Adam Piggott

Gentleman adventurer

Author: Adam Page 2 of 137

Don’t think your isolated farm will save you.

I am seeing a fair number of commentary from people on the dissident side of politics regarding the practice of stepping away from unfolding events. For example, in one of his latest travelogue videos Roosh V stayed at a friend’s farm in rural Kentucky. Roosh expressed the view that not only was it refreshing to tune out from politics while he was there but that it would be a good option to just get yourself a piece of land and bug out from the greater malaise and forthcoming calamitous times.

This view is at best misguided. When really big moments occur in history there is no escaping for anyone. All you can do is pick a side and fight. Take for example the German population of East Prussia. In his book The Fall of Berlin, Anthony Beevor makes a chilling observation on their fate at the hands of the Soviet Union.

“A population which had stood at 2.2 million in 1940 was reduced to 193,000 at the end of May 1945.”

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Podcast #117 – The I will survive episode.

The one where I describe the worst road trip across Europe, ever. Also, how I began to liberate myself from my recent divorce.

The book I was trying to remember for Cappy – Save the Cat.

Basketball boobs.

A few years ago I was at a staff party for a large bar in which I worked at the time. We had a big day of it out on the ocean on a charted boat. The bar girls were all in bikinis and the ugliest one among them was a strong 7. We anchored at a small island off the coast and drank and ate ourselves into stupification on the white sandy beach. There may or may not have been other substances involved as well. Finally the day became late and it was time to take the boat back to harbor. We ended up at a bar where a bunch of us did our very best to start a large fight but to no avail.

One of my colleagues had fake tits. We discovered that she had fake tits because I asked her. She confirmed that they were indeed fake thus solving a puzzle that had beset a bunch of us for a good quarter of an hour. This is a long time when you’re off your tits. In all honesty I was so far gone that it was hard for me to string a coherent sentence together.

I then remarked to the young lady that I had never touched fake boobs before. She smiled, a broad and open smile, the sort of smile that would have launched ships back in the day. Then she said that I was more than welcome to try them out for myself.

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Friday hawt chicks & links – The woke edition.

This time we’ll get communism right, comrades. That’s what all the socialists are saying. People, and I use that term loosely, gravitate to socialism because they do not measure up to competition. The problem is that when they join the socialist group there is a lot of competition to be the best socialist. Being the best socialist that you can be entails a competition of the woke. The more woke that you are, the more your stocks rise as a socialist. Unfortunately the modern socialist cannot escape the laws of selection even here as special groups get special dispensations and privileges. For example, if you are not white then you are automatically better than other socialists. This adds up and adds up until what does a white guy have to do to get ahead in socialism?

The hawt chicks & links for this week explores the crazy and dangerous world of socialism. May the frog be with you.

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The scientific case against redheads.

On yesterday’s post some commenters were confused as to why I included redheads in my opening salvo list of attributes you want to avoid in women if you intend on wifing up.

JohnC

Why are women with redheads bad for wives?

Kraemer

I would have liked Adam to make the distinction between genuine gingers and dyed red hair. Dyed red hair is a big red flag, gingers are like other women imho: many bad ones but don’t dismiss them out of hand.

Contrary to what some of you may think my inclusion of redheads, natural redheads, as being sub-optimal for purposes of a serious and stable relationship was carefully considered. My days of wilful and ill thought out behavior ended that fateful morning that I peered too far inside a threshing machine.

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The number one thing you must do as parents to raise successful kids.

Science Says Parents of the Most Successful Kids Do These 10 Things. That’s the headline. In reality it’s an opinion piece. Even worse, it’s an opinion piece from a guy attempting to flog his e-book. Here are his 10 must do things for parents to raise successful kids:

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The complete lack of diversity in downhill mountain biking.

I’m in Italy, more specifically Val di Sole. You’re all already more than familiar with this spot as you’ve all read my second book, Run Guts Pull Cones. Right? Right?

Crickets.

Anyhoo, I’m here for 10 days or until boredom sets in which should be a close run either way. The lack of posting has been due to a critical lack of the internets connections. I’m staying with old friends who recently purchased a large house way up on the side of a mountain. The view is rather spectacular. I tried posting a photo but for some reason the internet wouldn’t load it. Bad internet.

Anyway, I eventually sorted the lack of connectivity to the outside world by way of some high technology moves on my part. Specifically, I purchased a long cable and plugged directly into the router. Wonder of wonders, it works. Yippee for me.

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Friday hawt chicks & links – The fresh air edition.

Two weeks without the hawt chicks & links, let me guess – you all went outside and got some fresh air while playing ball with your mates and some hawt chicks walked by and you said hello and you all ended up getting cheeseburgers and cherry cokes down at Harry’s Bar, ammiright?

Or maybe you cried into your greasy, unkempt, matted, thinning hair.

But what I am saying?? The hawt chicks & links is no place for depressing tales or anecdotes. This is where dreams are made and perhaps even realised. Now I appreciate that there are some of you out there who haven’t opened your bedroom door in several years. And I’d really prefer it if you keep those doors shut tight. Some things just shouldn’t see the light of day. But the hawt chicks & links should, because we got links and we got hawtness and we got not much else, but that’s all right because that’s all any of you ever want. You’re so easy. I love it.

On with it.

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Deriving all your value from a girl.

A young man writes to Cappy about his life. He is despondent because his girlfriend left him for another guy. For the second time. As you would expect, Cappy goes to town on him. I particularly liked the long, drawn out sigh just a few seconds into the video.

On the one hand this young man shouldn’t have to pay someone like Cappy to tell him what he needs to know as the answers are all there on the internet and if he is familiar with Cappy then he must also be familiar with the manosphere. But denial leaves us prone to not being able to sort out our own problems due to its very nature; we put on the blinkers and we filter out the information that makes us feel uncomfortable. Which is why you sometimes need a third party such as Cappy to give you a good dose of reality.

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For want of a good mission.

350AD was a hell of a time in the old Roman Empire, unless you were those halfwits sitting all the way over east in Constantinople. If you were an actual Roman, not one of those diversity imports with which they were stuffing the legions, but a real honest to God Roman and not just any old Roman but a man, because the women just didn’t make the togas look any good, why it really was a good time to be alive. No joining the legion and having to scrape mud off your face for 20 years while you attempted to carve out a piece of the empire for yourself. That stuff was old galea. We had the Huns to do that job for us now. Better to sit around stuffing your face with anchovies while lamenting at the breakdown of law and order.

Those Hun imports could thrash away for decades on the battlefield, winning as much honor and prestige as they could carry home, but it would never make them a Roman. Everyone wanted to be a Roman, a real life citizen of Rome. The trick was to dangle the carrot in front of them; let them think that they had a chance to become a Roman, even though you knew that there was bugger all chance of that happening. True, every now and then you had to actually come through with your promise, for appearance sake you understand. I mean, the diversity imports were thick but even they would have eventually cottoned on to the fact that if nobody was getting the prize then maybe the prize wasn’t worth having.

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