Adam Piggott

Gentleman adventurer

Month: October 2019 Page 1 of 2

You need to vet your women.

Rollo has a great article up about how the majority of guys have little to no standards for choosing a woman. She likes you? Barring hideous deformities, then she’s in.

(photo courtesy of one of Rollo’s other posts on the subject.)

Whether it is an unsuitable woman that he is with now or an ex that left him for whom he harbors a burning hatred, men will attribute their poor relationship circumstances to outside agencies rather than their poor mate selection criteria.

Men will always seek validation in the choices they invested their lives in – particularly in the face of realities that contradict them.

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Friday hawt chicks & links – The muh white privilege edition.

The hawt chicks & links has had a tough old week, with work and responsibilities causing us to actually have to work and stuff. Quite horrifying, if you really want to know. Where’s this white privilege at, I ask myself. I gotta get me some of that there privilege that they’re talking about. My great granddaddy sure had a lot of white privilege. The mean old bugger had a Lithgow coal cart full, or so I’m told. That’s an old coal mining town just out of Sydney. Where my folks are from on my daddy’s side. And my mother’s side were croppers down in Camberwell, which is an outer suburb of Sydney now but back when she was a girl it was beyond the black stump.

So much privilege. Maybe I should pretend that I came from a family of naval historians, as opposed to one of my other great granddaddies who had a small schooner that he used to run goods from Newcastle to Woolongong in the mid 19th century. Got the nautical blood in me veins, I does. Speak like a pirate, I should. Or Yoda pirate.

Can you tell that it’s been a long week? Has it been a long week for you as well? Oh, I’m sorry; I don’t actually give a toss.

On with it.

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Violence solves many things.

Back in the mists of time when I was a wee lad growing up, figures of authority in my life would routinely utter the phrase, “violence doesn’t solve anything”, usually after I had been pummeling my younger brother for looking at me funny. Even at that tender age age I found it difficult to square these words with my observable reality. For instance, I had a few big books with lots of very cool photos about World War II. It seemed to me then, and still does now, that violence solved a great many things in that particular case.

Then there was The A Team. Sure, you never actually saw anyone die in one of the episodes; the funniest moment being the time a helicopter was hit by a missile, crashed into a cliff, bounced down the rock face and then exploded into a ball of flame, only for the crew to stumble out coughing a bit. True story, bro. But there sure was a lot of violence and they always seemed to win. Once again, violence seemed far superior to touchy-feely approaches such as talking.

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Her first loyalty is to team woman.

The Other McCain evaluates an article about a man discovering via a DNA test that his daughter was not in fact his. I was reading along while sipping my morning coffee when a passage struck me sideways. I’ll have to talk to Mr McCain about that spilled coffee; after all, it’s obviously his fault.

This is from the article that McCain was quoting:

The worst was to see the reaction of my daughter. She just cried and cried. It was like a nuclear bomb going off. . . .
On the day that I found out, I was like, I wanted to reject her, because I said my boundary was I will not raise another man’s child from an affair. My mom put me straight. She was like, “She’s innocent in this. Don’t blame her.” So I consider her my daughter. I just say she’s my daughter.

My instinctive reaction to this was along the lines of rolling my eyes and muttering under my breath. But then I got to McCain’s reaction and oh, boy.

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Plant burgers? You wouldn’t feed your dog this rubbish.

Two supposed articles in Saturday’s Weekend Australian explore the tasteful and tantalising future of pretend meat burgers.

Plant burger? It could grow on you.

Most burger enthusiasts might not bat an eye at the vegetarian option on a menu, but a fast-food chain’s latest offering could mark the beginning of the plant-based cannibalisation of the meat ­market.The release of its plant-based Rebel Whopper this week makes Hungry Jack’s the first major chain to offer a plant-based beef-imitation product, and the company has made clear who its target market is.

“There is a growing number of flexitarians and meat reducers who, while not necessarily vegetarian or vegan, welcome a plant-based option,” Hungry Jack’s chief marketing officer Scott Baird said.

Hungry Jack’s is the Australian iteration of Burger King, the change harking back to a stubborn local who refused to sign over the rights on the name he took out for his humble caravan hamburger business. And now they’re in the pretend meat business.

If it was any good, then why does it have to pretend to be something that it’s not?

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The book of 70 shit tests.

Heya, young dudes. Still looking for that special lady, that gorgeous someone to spend your valuable free time with while you wander slowly in the fields of joy? I bet you are, I bet you are indeed. It matters not their unfeminine appearance and behavior; what only counts is whether or not she will accept you, her veritable knight in shining armor.

But do you know how to measure up, oh noble knight that you are. Perhaps you are a bit confused at how to comport yourself. The field of chivalry is chaotic and bereft of the type of clear guidelines that a young paladin such as yourself could well make use. But fear not! For a veritable lady, a modern lady no less, has come forth to provide you with the list of things that must be done to … hang on a minute, just checking how she put it … oh yes,

Stay single until you meet a guy who does these 70 things.

Now your path is clear, young gentlemen of the shining virtue. So saddle up and prepare to begin your quest as you strive to follow the modern 70, yes, you read that right; 70 virtues which you must possess to win the lady’s heart.

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Chinatown wasn’t meant to be the entire city.

Once you understand and fully internalise the truth that all media is simply advertising, it becomes a process of gradual illumination as you step from reading between the lines to reading the inherent truth of the lines, within their own context. The last part is the key to it all; you are always reading truth in the media; it just behooves you to grasp whose truth it actually is.

It’s spring in the southern hemisphere which means that it’s time for the spring auction sales in the Australian real estate market. Because the Australian financial and economic systems are now deformed Ponzi clowns entirely dependent on the continuing appreciation of shoddy buildings known as ‘assets’, what once were simply homes are now the collective cooked goose propping up the entire shoddy edifice. Australia as a whole, not just the political class, are so entirely dependent on wealthy Chinese continuing to buy their country in order to prop up their own wealth that they will put up with just about anything in order to kick the can a little bit further down the road so they can at least sell and retire to the mythical Southern Highlands. Chinese navy announced visits to Australian cities and Chinese flags flying over suburban Australian police stations are all part of the ‘nothing to see here’ attitude that permeates every facet of proper Australian society.

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Friday hawt chicks & links – The couldn’t care less edition.

So much happening in the world right now that the hawt chicks & links almost doesn’t know where to turn. Trump pulls out of Syria, the Turks invade or something, and OH MY GOD, THE KURDS!! Can anyone explain to me why the Kurds are so important? I thought that kurds was something that you’d find next to your whey. I don’t care about the Kurds just the same way that I don’t care about the Turks; they’re not my people. Let them sort out their own problems. Some of them die sorting out their own problems? Why is that our problem, let alone our own fault? Nobody cares. We didn’t care about the Hutus or the Tutsis either. Nobody knew who the hell they were. And know that we know, we wish that we didn’t. Just like the Kurds. Stop pretending to think that the rest of us give a shit. I couldn’t care less. They could all die in a gigantic grease fire as far as I’m concerned and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid. Boo-fucking-hoo. I wouldn’t even pretend to make polite conversation about it at the coffee machine at work.

“Oooh, isn’t it tragic about those Kurds?”

“No, it’s not. Now get out of my way so I can get a coffee.”

I don’t appreciate the attempts to manipulate me into caring about some group with whom I know nothing about, care nothing about and have nothing in common. You may as well try and make me care about my ex-wife. You’re going to get a blank stare and an itchy trigger finger.

But Trump has pulled out the troops and it’s about goddamn time. Only took him three years. But why stop there? Pull them out of the entire Middle East, and Afghanistan, and Africa, and most especially Europe. Just keep them in Darwin so we can hold off the Chinks for a bit longer, (oh, who am I kidding.)

Click to read the rest only if you dare.

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A true holiday is no holiday at all.

Cappy took a holiday, his first real holiday in seven years.

The Ole Captain’s “vacations” include motorcycling to Alaska, hiking mountains, weekend binges, month’s long motorcycle trips, leaving home for months at a time, all to make up for lost time I was putting forth “maximum effort” in my youth.  These epic adventures and vacations are perfectly fine, and I would even say mandatory for a real life.  But people who put forth “maximum effort” tend to do it in all aspects of their lives, NEVER giving their bodies or minds the time they need to rest.  I just recently came back from a 5 day TRUE vacation where I did nothing but sleep, eat, and sleep some more with the Masculine Geeks at an Atlantic beach house.  The last time I had a vacation like that was 7 years ago at a wedding in Jamaica where there was no cell phone reception or internet.  The body needs to sit and rest for at least a week a year.  And by “rest” I mean “do absolutely nothing.”

Remember what I said the other week about rest and rejuvenation? It’s pretty important seeing as it could quite literally save your life.

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No man, no plan, no van.

A good man is hard to find. That’s how the saying goes. The term, ‘a good man’, denotes a man who is both desirable and obedient. That is what women say they want. The two traits, however, are mutually exclusive. Desirable indicates a man who is good at being a man, not a good man. For the manosphere this is nothing new, but it bares being repeated. Because we forget, we were not introduced to it, or we read the Wall Street Journal.

A good man is getting even harder to find.

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