Your fear of reality is noted

A preamble to a longer post that will come a little later...

I made a comment on WBC’s substack’s post on “the end of the world as I know it!” to the effect that his nihilistic defeatism was weak-sauce, thusly, and note the reply I got.

To which I could only reply in kind:

But aside the little tit-for-tat on the internet, what does that kind of response, reaction, way of thinking really say about people like WCB as well as David from Texas?

These are not men living life.

These are scared weaklings whining because it’s raining outside and even if they use an umbrella they may get a bit wet, and oh, it’s just all so terrible…

It’s pathetic.

Who gives a flying fuck if I get run over by a bus with my name on it tomorrow?

Shit happens. That’s life.

These “people”… their solution to everything is stay in bed because life might happen if you go outside.

Anything less than the comfort of your couch binge-watching Netflix with a Starbucks turd-tasting “coffee” mixed in with cancer-inducing sweeteners is a hellscape they can’t imagine without going into catatonic epileptic fits.

On one hand it pisses me off for how weak, weak, weak, WEAK, the average “man” has become.

On the other hand hand, I’m half-thinking, “Fuck-it, if these are the kinds of “men” we have to rely on to rebuild a civilisation worth having, it really is better if they don’t reproduce and just silently die off as they nest in their apartments like the fat self-grooming non-reproductive mice of Universe 25.¹ No one needs these oxygen thieves on the planet anyway.”

And on the third hand (hey, mutants are a thing in the post-nuclear waste-land, right?), if this is the majority, then perhaps the Kalergi plan will indeed win out, but then, even if that were a foregone conclusion, let me express this in the best Gen X classical reply I can muster for my entire generation:

So. Fucking. What?

Fight anyway. What else you gotta do? Groom yourself to death?

1. From here.

“A select group of mice, which Calhoun called “the beautiful ones,” secluded themselves in protected places with a guard posted at the entry. They didn’t seek out mates or fight with other mice, wrote Will Wiles in Cabinet magazine in 2011, “they just ate, slept and groomed, wrapped in narcissistic introspection.”

Eventually, several factors combined to doom the experiment. The beautiful ones’ chaste behavior lowered the birth rate. Meanwhile, out in the overcrowded common areas, the few remaining parents’ neglect increased infant mortality. These factors sent the mice society over a demographic cliff. Just over a month after population peaked, around day 600, according to Distillations magazine’s Sam Kean, no baby mice were surviving more than a few days. The society plummeted toward extinction as the remaining adult mice were just “hiding like hermits or grooming all day” before dying out, writes Kean.”