Zero Hour

Why write about an event that was unsuccessful in accomplishing its stated objectives, had horrific costs, happened seven decades ago, and why write about it on a blog that has a largely Anglosphere readership?

Because it was 63 days of good fighting evil to the death.

And because President Donald Trump agrees with me that the 1944 Warsaw Uprising is a metaphor for the war of our time. We pray and prepare for an outcome that, disastrous or not short-term, will give the West a long-term victory, a new chance at life.

Had Hillary Clinton won the presidency, all of us would have understood Patrick Henry’s ultimatum “Give me liberty or give me death.” We would all be facing the same overwhelming odds that George Washington did in 1778 and the Home Army did in 1944.

Trump’s Holy Victory bought us time. Frankly, it also gave us courage — we stopped being afraid. And at some point we’ll have to pick a side and doing so, lead, follow, or get out of the way. In a recent post titled “Europe, Rise From Your Knees!” I go over what that means, especially the value of getting out of the way.

In April, I had a post titled “Physical Bravery and Young Age,” which looks at what it takes for a nation to produce brave sons and daughters.

It’s not over yet. It hasn’t even begun. But the air sure feels thick with anticipation. Rotherham has not been avenged.

Zero Hour (or W Hour as it’s called in Poland) is commemorated at 1700 hrs local time every August 1st with one-minute’s howl of air-raid sirens to mark the outbreak of the insurrection.

The Uprising was not a suicide mission. It was a well planned high-risk, high-reward operation with major initial successes. There is a saying about the five stages of the Warsaw Uprising:

  1. Euphoria when the first shots were fired.
  2. Hope when districts were liberated, tanks destroyed, enemy soldiers killed.
  3. Desperation when allies stood down, food and water ran low, civilian massacres began.
  4. Expulsion of the surviving residents and razing of the city.
  5. Glory forever.


A “formative” experience. In quotes because I was 23 and experienced. I didn’t get a girl I wanted after she and I messed around. I was an idiot because she was bad news. But young passion blinds, which is why boys off themselves over a piece of tail.

In my oneitis, I chatted up an older man I looked up to, my boss at work. Didn’t know what exactly to ask him, but it was the same question that nearly two decades later will have led ten million young men to google their way to Heartiste’s archives.

I didn’t expect the older man to solve my problem or to play Robin Williams to my Matt Damon, but… it would have lightened my load if he had at least said “That’s a damn good question.” A sympathetic pat on the back would have, maybe, made me forget the chick and pumped me up to charm the panties off another one.

Instead, his face took on a satisfied look as he said “Yeah, I married a good one.” That’s when I understood that there are no mentors. Nobody gives a shit about me, is what sunk in. It was a liberating epiphany because it forced me to accept two things: that I have to figure everything out for myself, and that I have to take what I want with nobody’s help.

I learned to walk on my own.

Boomers had severed every inter-generational link of accumulated wisdom and let GenXers and Millennials out into the world ignorant and deracinated. We’re fixing what’s broken.

Back to love: it’s incomprehensible to me, today, that someone can put a loaded gun to his temple and squeeze the trigger over a gash. It’s a matter of age. At 45’ish now, I can imagine having an affair with a lithe little college girl. It would be fun, laughs, rape-lust at first fuck. But having the kinds of feelings that would drive a man to reckon with his life? No way. There is someone I would die (and kill) for, and it’s not hypothetical-her.

I do feel love. It’s for a woman who is a beautiful mother. She believes that a boy needs his daddy and her every act, touch, and gesture follows that axiom.

A 23-year-old or a fifteen-year-old man today is somewhere else. Unlike me now, he’d kill himself over a fling. His prospects are also tougher than mine were. I didn’t have to work around obesity, Tinder, or zoophilia.

But he has the one thing that I didn’t: tradition.



Advice to a 15-Year-Old Man (by a CH reader)

This 25-point advice was posted as a series of comments by Vagina dominator at Chateau Heartise:

What do the pua manosphere and shitlords generally believe about women and how to live your life? If you wanted to redpill your 15 year old son (and perhaps give him nightmares) what would you tell him about women and getting laid? I have knocked out a quick list of Polonius-worthy points. You may agree, disagree, or like to add something.

1. It is men who are the romantics, not women, and men must guard against being taken in by their own romanticizing of the opposite sex. Be realistic about women. If someone farted in the lift, it is as likely to be a woman as a man. Don’t buy their bullshit.

2. Women are always looking for someone to look after them and pay their way, whether it is a man or, like nowadays, the State. Don’t be a sucker for women with your time and money. She wants to move house and needs to move some furniture? Let her call a fucking removalist. You have to play hockey.

3. Women despise men who are weak and allow women to push them around. But they certainly will use such men for attention and resources.

4. Women love strong and independent men who will master and control them and who have some social status (even if it is negative). They are attracted to such men whether they have resources or not.

5. Women are no more loyal or trustworthy than men. A lot of men are always looking for something hotter and tighter, if they could get it. A lot of women too are always looking for a better deal, whether it is a better “resources deal” or a better “man-deal”. Of course, for women too it is a question of “if she thinks she can get it”.

6. Attractive women can also have the clap or be looney, same as a heavily-tattooed woman that looks like a skank. You cannot “tell” just by looking at the package.

7. A man must control the women in his life or they will hinder, damage or even destroy him. Many men throughout human history have observed that women are often the great destroyers of a young man’s dreams. Don’t ever “give up” positive things in your life for a woman.

8. Society must control women. Women are not “civilizational”. Men build civilizations. Women only think of themselves. Women will always vote what *they believe* is good for themselves. They will never vote for what is good for civilization.

9. None of this can be discussed with women. They will simply say Not All Women Are Like That (meaning, “I am not like that” or “I do not like what I am hearing and will deny it even though I know it is true”)

10. None of this can be discussed with many men. It is a subject that can be discussed or raised only with care. A lot of men will find these views offensive. That is because they are pussywhipped, but do not say this to them. They may yet come around to reality.

11. There are many weak men in the world who think their best way to manage their relationships with women is to surrender and brown-nose and agree with everything they say and do. These “nu-men” are weak and scared and women know it. Remember, women hate, hate, hate weak men.

12. Some women can display reason and intelligence *when it suits them*. In the current arrangement of society, it rarely suits women to be reasonable, as complaining and claims of victimhood are for the most part much more profitable.

13. In your relationships with women, don’t ever panic or be forced into time-sensitive decisions. As a man, time is on your side. Remember, women age like milk. Men age like fine wine. And there are plenty of fish in the sea.

14. Relationships conducted at a distance never work. When you called on Saturday night and it sounded like a party and she said she was studying, well….look, I don’t want to break your heart, but you’re here, and the attentive and handsome young men are there. With her.

15. Never loan the bitch money or go pick up drugs for her or anything stupid like that. Her problems and her errands are hers, not yours.

16. Never move in with a girl. In many jurisdictions, after the passing of a certain amount of time, say 2 years, and if you “share bills” – like everyone fucking does in a share house – you may be considered by the courts to be in a de facto relationship (m*rried).

17. Single m*thers. Avoid. Like the plague. They have made bad decisions. They will make more.

18. There’s nothing quite like rawdogging except for
– pregn*ncy
– venereal diseases

19. Lots of women are bored and want to create drama in their life. These people always have “problems” of all kinds. They are always having pregn*ncies, abortions, miscarriages, fights with friends or f*mily, being evicted, having the car towed, trying to borrow money, arranging a drug deal, itching from vaginosis, having their house broken into, lost their purse, need help to get their essay in (want you to write it), are late for everything, often get drunk and hung over… Stay away from such people but in particular do not white knight for women of this kind. Women of this kind can spot a white knight from a mile away. Do not try to help them. Do not get involved in their life and dramas. Do not offer your opinions or advice. They will use this small involvement as a string to further drag you in and control you, hold onto you and drag you down with them. They may use pussy to drag you in. Careful, this whore will probably give you the clap.

20. Women lie. They lie all the time and they lie about everything, money, former boyfriends, how much they spent, where they have been, how much they drank, what time they got home, just the tip (sorry, no, that’s my lie), that they are on the pill, yeh, they remembered to take it, how many were in the train,…everything. You are advised to assume that they are liars until it is proven otherwise.

21. There’s an old sailor’s rhyme “If much make up by night, at morning sure fright.” You’ve been warned.

22. A lot of women like rough sex, or they like the guy to be demonstratively uh…”passionate” is I suppose how they see it. Take care with this. It is true that a lot of sex is about submission and dominance but there’s a range…and if she wakes up in the morning and decides she doesn’t really like you but she has bruises, well, you will be swimming in a lake of shit.

23. I know the Jews recommend it on every porn site and make it appear to be the ne plus ultra of sexuality and dominance but on the subject of anal “sex”, please bear in mind that it is exactly as disease spreading, unhygienic, and unhealthy as you would expect dipping your dick into human faeces to be. Think “I like this girl so much I am going to give her fistulas.” Does that make sense to you? Fuck the sicko Jews.

24. Who has she been with? Smackies? NIggers? Nigger smackies? Problem here is that it is no good to ask her because, as observed above, women always lie.

25. The Coolidge effect (regularly wanting newer pussy) exists. In a society where we constantly meet new people, where big cities, cars, and smart phones provide anonymity for brief and easy hookups, and where work takes us away from our families and the small daily joys of family life, we can easily overestimate the value of hole and find ourselves chasing it, living secret lives, in ways often too subtle to label stressing those around us and cheating ourselves of our daily equanimity. This is partly the result of the whole of modern society being hole-obsessed and wanting us too to be hole-obsessed. You are going to have to navigate this world as you get older. My advice is to just dial it down. Put yourself first. Don’t buy cheap shit (pussy) at a high price (a relaxed and happy frame of mind, friendships, your valuable time, control of the direction of our own life) where you find yourself blowing your load and wondering if it was even worth the bus fare. Anyway, I’m not telling you to be a saint. I’m just saying, think about this from time to time.

Five Fun And Simple Songs

Who says that you always have to be serious?

1. The AC/DC Laundry Dude

Three cheers for the improvisational creativity of a rocker who doesn’t have a drummer on-hand. What I mean is, high-concept White genius takes us to the moon, the planets, and one day to the stars. Our middle-brow élan is why some of us leap into a Norwegian fjord in a wing suit. And our fun-loving low-brow ingenuity delivers this:

2. Cher and the Two Young Fellas

Namely, Beavis and Butthead. PS: leave Warrant alone! But in the end, Butthead scores and that’s what matters.

BUTTHEAD: “So like, um, Cher, heh heh, I hear you’re like, you know, into young dudes?” [strokes her thigh]
CHER: “Yeah well, you feelin’ lucky, Butthead?”

Always be closing, gentlemen.

3. “Home Is Wherever I’m With You”

Hipsters, or hippies:

‒ Jade?
‒ Alexander?
‒ Do you remember that day you fell outta my window?
‒ I sure do; you came jumping out after me.
‒ Well, you fell on the concrete, nearly broke your ass, and you were bleeding all over the place, and I rushed you out to the hospital, you remember that?
‒ Yes, I do.
‒ Well, there’s something I never told you about that night.
‒ What didn’t you tell me?
‒ Well, while you were sitting in the back seat smoking a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last, I was falling deep, deeply in love with you, and I never told you ’til just now!

The most Edenic video you’ve ever watched:

4. Do You Want To Feel Happy?

Watch the next video. It’s one thousand Italian rockers playing the Foo Fighters’ “Learn to Fly.”

I was hanging out with a couple of musician friends last night. The impassioned drummer (a fellow with stratospheric IQ) explained to us how Dave Grohl is a brilliant percussionist, as we chilled out over beers and watched two hours of the band’s videos.

“You know, Italy is a country where dreams cannot easily come true. But it’s a land of passion and creativity. So what we did here is just a huge, huge miracle.”

It’s times like these you learn to live again.

5. New England

Can a simple rhyme, in this case the children’s song “Itsy Bitsy Spider,” in a medley with “Coming Around Again,” hit one’s emotional cortex? Carly Simon’s live performance at Martha’s Vineyard does it for me.

“Scream a lullaby”

What a powerful line. In the 1986 original, the song was about the middle class ennui. The way it reads to us now, is “don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.” But the nursery rhyme that starts at the 3:00 minute mark makes this a performance for the ages.

That part of the country… I went there with nothing, came back with something. My worst defeat and my biggest triumph. It’s better to reach blindly and fall than to sit tight and never know what you can do, as your best three years come and go.

If you know New England, you can’t not enjoy that concert against its chilly north Atlantic evening.

OK, I got a little serious here at the end.

Open thread.

Jukebox Wars

Ace was a shitlord theorist even back in high school. In this story, “D.J.” is named after his former calling. Bobby struck gold and now lives idly for women and wine, both in moderation.

Ace: I drove to the Jersey shore with D.J. and Bobby this past weekend. Remember the dive last year that you called the “dinosaur bar,” which was full of old rednecks?

PA: Yeah. I drank Miller Lite from a plastic cup. But it was our oasis from the dindu noise they played at all the other bars.

Ace: Rock music on the jukebox was nice, but what sat wrong with me, when you and I were there, is that we had to settle for that dump to finally hear our sound. And then, remember how those two scrawny Cholos went up to the jukebox and put on Reggaeton? You and I wondered why the fuck we’re in a place that’s full of drunk tough guys and nobody does a damn thing about this blatantly disrespectful act.

PA: They were more drunk than tough. But yeah, you and I didn’t do anything either. “It’s not the time yet,” is what I said. Not my home turf, pick your battles, the bartender isn’t doing anything so why should I.

Ace: So on Saturday, D.J., Bobby, and I popped into that same “dinosaur bar” and the music was good, if a bit long in the tooth. Older acts like Guns N’ Roses and Foo Fighters. Then, a fat thirty-something woman waddles over to the jukebox.

PA: Oh shit. That’s trouble.

Ace: Oddly though, she put on some of those old-school crooner selections. Perry Como and the like. I don’t mind it, but it wasn’t the right vibe.

PA: Definitely could have been worse.

Ace: Superannuated is what it was. So Bobby says “I’ll put something on” and gets up from his chair. He puts on Lush.

PA: Heh, we all know your feelings about Alternative Rock.

Ace: Yeah, it’s the faggiest fucking crap. Well, the song starts, and my reaction was “this sucks, this sucks…” and then the intro halts and… “THIS ROCKS!” And I told Bobby that this is surprisingly good. He laughed and said “You know I wouldn’t do you wrong, brother.”

After that, things went downhill. Someone put on ten, or realistically, more like six songs of pure undiluted hardcore ghetto rap.

PA: Who did that!?

Ace: It was a normal looking, forty-something White gentleman. There were three blacks there, and they started monkeying it up. And then D.J. commences to bust my balls: “I told you people enjoy that music — see, even the bartendress is feelin’ the beat.”

PA: The bastard loves to kick you when you’re down.

Ace: But I said “This is war” and asked him to remind me what was that Death Metal band he once played to drive the schwoogs from his venue. He said it’s Meshuggah. I asked him to spell it for me, and I went over and put that on.

PA: Nice move. What did the blacks do?

Ace: It was funny, the life went out of them and they just kind of sat huddled together.

PA: I remember D.J.’s explanation about how those arrhythmic parts unsettle them, besides of course the insane growling vocals. Something about how every fifth beat is off, that fucks with their heads.

Ace: So then, one of them goes up to the jukebox.

PA: Bring it on, jukebox wars! Did they escalate?

Ace: Surprisingly, no. They put on black artists but nothing obnoxious. Michael Jackson, that kind of stuff.

PA: See, you show some firepower and the other side is willing to negotiate.


We’re a fractured nation. More accurately, a hodgepodge of nations elbowing at each other in contested public space. The stuff of wars. Back in America, kids rocked around the jukebox. Today, smart proprietors control all music, usually by streaming Pandora.


I had some thoughts about the cycles of popular music here.


It’s time for a coffee. I take mine with Meshuggah.

Model Minority


People who are getting red-pilled will cling to some types of blue pill.

Full red-pilling is not that you arrive at the right opinion regarding conspiracy theories, or at some other esoteric destination. Intelligent, wide-awake people can hold a range of opinions on 911 truth, on religion, or other subjects.

Rather, full red-pilling means that you reject the authority of the liberal system over your thoughts, over your moral orientation, over reality.

And people who haven’t gotten there yet continue to grant that legitimacy to liberalism. So when, for example, their eyes open on the subject of blacks, they will feel the need to compensate for this deviation from Narrative by doubling down on their praise for a comparatively high-functioning guest-race such as Asians.

They are afraid of severing too many connections with the liberal establishment.