It’s said that men are the romantic sex. Guilty as charged, your honor. But we can handle it because our compartmentalizing brain lets us understand the full reality of female hypergamy and still not wallow in naturalistic nihilism.

There is a popular blog that sometimes goes into male-female mechanics. It’s hosted by an intelligent writer, a widower who ruefully reminds his readers that women are aroused by violence against them. He’s right, and such insights literally save lives and nations. Yet the Red Pill, like any pill, can be overdosed on. I find an excessive dwelling on soulless biomechanics repellent, like trying to live our one life with eyes compulsively fixed on the movement of a myriad insect legs in the grass.

You’ll find a more complete picture about men and women — of all places — in Milo’s critique of Jordan Peterson:

There is such a thing as the Chaotic feminine Peterson recognizes. She is the Whore of Babylon, rather than the Heavenly Bride. But Jordan only sees the Whore. This is a fundamental failing in his mythological structure: he doesn’t see the Ordering Feminine—the Lady as Heavenly City who gives a home to her groom. Men are constantly asking feminists to be more honest about male virtue. They have to do women the same courtesy. Peterson doesn’t, and can’t.

See this clip, which shows highlights from Love Story (1970):

The movie is loaded with anachronisms, starting with the female lead’s ball-busting Second Wave feminism. And yet, “nothing human is alien to me.” When Jennifer Cavilleri barrages Oliver Barrett IV with hostile questions, you don’t see liberals of their era, you see a lower class girl attracted to a handsome upper class suitor.

One of the things I liked about the movie is its visuals of the northern climate. If nothing else, the scenes of our protagonists frolicking in the snow make you look forward to winter.

The dude, Oliver, is me in one particular way: in his earnestness. I married a girl with a lighter shade of the same lovely brown hair as that actress. She and I visited New England about a decade after I lived there. Saw a bunch of new things, also checked out my old haunts. As we’re driving back home, she looks at me and says “I think we’re bringing a son home with us.” Nine months later, our baby boy was born.

22 thoughts on “Thanksgiving

  1. “I find an excessive dwelling on soulless biomechanics repellent…”

    One must remain a heedful student of both Adam and Eve’s living, Apollonianly-avian ontologies — riding the spiritual sea’s wings of radiating fig-wines toward the cruise-liner which sharply rafts down the vinifera river of red pills.

    Happy Thanksgiving… Doing up confit de canard. Should be quite satisfying… Even with all of this era’s faults, I’m proud to be a part of its unfolding; “picking up fruitful stones every day” and knowing the future gets tenuously brighter with each and every one. May the holidays treat PA and readers here admirably this year, ’rounding off its shiny cue’ particularly smoothly.

  2. EPG, I don’t doubt that your Thanksgiving was just right. Thanks for the wishes. I had a good one too. My father-in-law prepared the turkey days ahead, marinating it in salt water and the meat was juicy and tender like I’ve ever had it before. Also, all the best wishes to everyone who reads this humble blog. The things we have to be grateful for are innumerable.

  3. It is so good to hear that you have a son, PA. Whatever happens now, you have not lived in vain, your legacy is here. So good. So good.

  4. My bad. The rest of the quote is as follows:

    There is a popular blog that sometimes goes into male-female mechanics. It’s hosted by an intelligent writer, a widower who ruefully reminds his readers that women are aroused by violence against them.

    So it’s not CH.

    It appears also not to be Dalrock dot WordPress as his tagline is “Thoughts from a happily married father on a post feminist world.”

  5. Our Thanksgiving Table this year was winnowed down to three. Once mom and dad are no longer, it’s looking like the community center for me. I can aspire to be behind the lines, so to speak, though it very well could be on the receiving end. Dad did a masterful job in the kitchen. However the in-the-bird stuffing failed, for [reasons].

    The Turkey itself, may He rest in peace, was 10 lbs and moistful. As we all know, smaller birds are less likely to be overcooked, but they are also less fatty so not so much gravy. I don’t even want to talk about commercial turkey farms. Hopefully the old hen that we enjoyed was not too caged up and miserable, but what are the odds of that.

    It’s my conclusion that a plant-based diet is more healthful for the simple practical reason that it’s easier to get the more natural vegetables and grains than the comparably organic meats. However if you are able to hunt your own fowls and whatever else and raise your own, then more power is at your disposal to dominate your enemies and your wife.

  6. ^ I’m guessing it’s Jim.

    Happy Thanksgiving as well to all you weirdo Yanx who, every year, just when Christmas season is ramping up, begin buzzing about “Thanksgiving”…

  7. Jokes aside, Thanksgiving is something that Americans take pride in because it is a neat holiday that “rings true.”

    The pictures used to feature in the junior high history books, literally showed the Founding Fathers dressed up as turkeys.

    Those old men were serious and formidable men, yet they had a sense of humor too. I had an insight on this blog last year or the year ago, that Benjamin Franklin offered up the turkey as the national bird because he saw in it the essence of his countrymen.

    How do turkeys manage to survive, being the ridiculous animals that they are? The literal answer as everyone knows, is that they fly into trees the night over. The figurative answer, the esoteric answer, is something else.

  8. And but of course they are trying to take Thanksgiving from us now too.

    The most recent big to-do in these our culture wars, is the retconning of Norman Rockwell and his most famous painting, which is of Thanksgiving Table of 50s America.

    Sailer has an excellent thread on it, which has for comparison the popular artist who was Rockwell’s predecessor by the name of Lysenko.

    Lysenko was the guy who did the covers of the Saturday Evening Post, wtf that was. His work will be recognized to every good boy and girl, even if his name is not. His actually name is Leyendecker.

    Leyendecker is a topic-and-a-half, himself. He is criticized, by many commenters now, for painting beautiful and exaggerated young men, and terrible (and exaggerated) old men. But boy does he ever get something right, in his characterizations.

    Like Sailer says though, the retconning of Rockwell is a step beyond the typical Leftist retconning and overreach; it’s not even just bad taste.

    But what else is to be expected of them the cultural distorters.

  9. Yes, it’s Jim on blogspot. He nailed the political reality back during Trump’s first summer as President, when he wrote that the permanent federal bureaucracy intends to carry on as though Hillary were elected.

  10., for anyone who hasn’t had the privilege; one of the very best and most impoartant alt-Right voices, although in my view his commentariat was better several years ago.

  11. PA, long time reader here. I comment on occasion, but not a regular. This took me a few days to get written up, but it was necessary for me to share it with you and the rest of readers. It is what I’m am now thankful for this year. Maybe it would make a good post of it’s own. I’d certainly be honored, but I respect that this is your blog. Peace.

    As with all good things, it was never going to last.

    We have a new priest this year. Our prior priest had been here for almost 10 years and was remarkable for being so apolitical, doubly so for being in this standard left-coast metro.

    The new priest comes here after a long stint overseas. One might believe his only contact with the USA was through Netflix and Facecuck. Speaking of physiognomy, he has the most jarring case of Gayface I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing first-hand in a priest. I don’t get a pedo-vibe, so, I stay cool about it.

    Our parish has had bilingual Masses for years. Longer than the last priest was here. No one likes them, but most people are too cowed to speak up and out about it. Besides, it’s been decided at least two levels up. Short of a nationwide financial boycott, it’s not changing.

    But that doesn’t mean we have to take it completely like a bunch of passive, agency-less slaves.

    And so Thanksgiving Mass this year was the usual bilingual Mulligan Pie. Except that the new priest had to put his own spin on it. His tradition is to pass around a microphone for parishioners to share what they are personally thankful for.

    Incredibly to me, the Latin community showed no hesitation, nor shame, in sharing their thanks for “mi familia” and who-knows-what-else in their native Spanish. It’s all BS because I and everyone knows virtually none these people can’t speak English. Bilingual Mass is a psy-op. Propaganda. It’s the old Soviet trick of showing to a people they are powerless. The bolder the lie, the more effective it is.

    Well, it was more than this Heritage American could stand.

    After the microphone had gone around a time or two, about half of the very few Americans that did decided to share appeared to be displaying PTSD symptoms and AA flashbacks. I feel for them and their pain, but, sheesh, this is a family event. TMI bro. Eventually after a particularly banal share from a mystery meater near the front row the whole congregation spontaneously started clapping like it should all finally be over.

    As for myself, I’d had a good 15 minutes to stew and think of what needed said. Not being the public speaking type I was more nervous than you can ever imagine. No, even more than that. Surrounded by interlopers and cucks I was going to stand up and speak truth to poz. And people were clapping like it was finally, safely over. But, as John J. Rambo said, “Nothing is over. Nothing. You can’t just turn it off.” I raised my hand and made eye-contact with the youngster doing microphone duty. Well, what else could he do?

    At the risk of having shared too much already, I’ll spare my exact speech. I will say it was nothing anyone over 35 wouldn’t remember from their own youth: thankfulness for our Forefathers: puritans and pioneers that built a country from the ground up starting from nothing; thankfulness for our beautiful church building made possible by the sacrifices of our parents, grandparents, and actually great-grandparents; thankfulness for our religious freedom, etc.

    Now here’s the surprising part that made me need to share this with PAWorld, 28Sherman ex-pats, and all fellow travelers. After my little thinly disguised troll, a remarkable wave of peace and pride washed over me. For the first 30 minutes of Mass, I’d been feeling mad and agitated, like I do at every single bilingual Mass I’ve had to endure. But suddenly, I really felt great. It was as surprising as it was amazing. The tension was gone and I’d felt a subtle, but undeniable wave of peace hit me.

    It certainly wasn’t a great a speech. I’m not good at speaking extemporaneously and even though I’d had a few minutes to compose my thoughts, it wasn’t enough for me to memorize everything I’d wanted to say. Indeed, I forgot over half of the things I thought of to say. But those few sentences were enough.

    After a time sitting there my thoughts drifted to 28Sherman and how he always pushing people to make a difference in the real world, and to PA World and how he is the unabashed pro-Christian, pro-West blogger writing to keep the culture flame alive until the rest of the nation catches up. I felt like I had channeled them and everyone here that wants to restore our heritage.

    After Mass as we were making our way through the parking lot an older gentleman who I recognize as a fellow regular, but don’t know anything about, looked my way from a good distance away and held it far longer than normal. It was like he wanted to make sure I was saw him and he knew that I knew he wanted me to see him. Then he simply raised his hand above his head and waived. Nothing dramatic about it, but the message was clear: “you’re not alone, friend.”

    My friends, you don’t have to make the perfect speech, you don’t have to convert the shitlib’s and Christiacucks around you. You just have to stand up and let others know that you know from whence our Nation came. Let it be known our history is still appreciated in some corners. No matter their virtue signal, you get to stand tall and proud and say, “you didn’t build that.”

  12. Pingback: A Counterpoint to PA – Setting the Record Straight

  13. Came here through TWiR. Seems NRx and … The explicitly pro-white faction (?) of the alt-right are coming to a clash. Whatever you call yourselves.

    I’ve shortly debated Jews with Hipster Racist, I’ll give my take on women here.

    You’re absolutely correct in that women give love and joy to a man’s life. As I’m typing this, my girl is behind me, decorating the christmas tree. She is now 6 months pregnant with our first child. I love her very much.

    I wholly attribute our love to Jim’s ideas, to, as you say, soulless biomechanics. Without these fundamentals, our love could not have existed.

    Of all the men I know, perhaps 5% has a good relation with their wives. Probably even less. The younger men especially have simply no clue what to do, how to behave, what is normal. Hence: divorce, serial monogamy, spinster ladies, plummeting fertility rates. Emancipation is one of the biggest, if not the biggest problem ailing us. In order to cure it, must hammer the fundamentals, which is exactly what Jim does.

    If we do not need to live like this, ‘this’ being women repeatedly trampling on our balls, need to formulate an alternative. As it turns out, it is much easier to make a woman love you by displaying willingness to beat her than it is to stop a woman beating your balls by loving her. Thus, Jim’s wisdom is timeless.

  14. I have no disagreement with much of what you’re saying. My eye-opener was Doc Love’s column on AskMen, then from 2007 onward, the theoretical fundamentals and practical insights from the brilliant Heartiste. Like you, I owe a good deal of my success to red pill literature on male-female relations.

    The point I originally made, is that there is such a thing as ‘too much talk of soulless biomechanics.’ Everyone has his threshold of where it starts to feel morbid. This means that everyone has his preferred style of writing about those things, thus his preferred bloggers.

  15. The explicitly pro-white faction (?) of the alt-right are coming to a clash. Whatever you call yourselves.

    The Alt Right is explicitly pro White. That’s what the Alt Right is. There is no wing of the AR that is not explicitly pro White.

    Also, the clash in the AR has been ongoing since forever; it’s part of the deal, there is no resolution to it.

    To the extent that the AR is organized, it’s clashing.

    The brand problems with AR are well known. I generally refer to the Dissident Right, or Populism, or Nationalism.

    The question is whether any of these things can be promoted effectively and to White advantage, without being explicitly pro White. The answer to that question according to Greg Johnson, is No. He says that as long as we back down from the pressure point of being explicitly pro White, then that pressure point is exactly where we will be attacked. The extent that we allow for not-White in our ideology is the minimum extent to which we give ground.

  16. The Dissident Right is MEANINGLESS if it doesn’t grapple head-on with the basics, which is White Identity.

    And there’s no tiptoeing around the Jewish Problem.

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