You can't thrive fully as a man until you've read the book Holes by Louis Sachar.
Stanley Yelnats. Wrong place. Wrong time.
Convicted. Sentenced to dig holes at Camp Green Lake.
Doesn't fit in. Clearly has ADHD.
Goes from low on totem pole to alpha fucking male.
Spits in the face of authority.
Leaves the safety of his quarters to live in the desert.
Heroic journey ensues.
Lives on a simple diet of Sploosh.
Embraces danger (yellow spotted lizard)
Comes back a fortified motherfucker.
Everyone loves him.
Lesson in there.
This bear market will hold many lessons
Shakes out weak mfs who've been sucking the tits of talking heads and tech companies for years
Meanwhile the primal souls been beyond these depths many times
And its feels like fucking home
Hope tomorrow is more red than a baboons ass
The only red light therapy a mf needs is the sight of their eyes bleeding while staring at deep red crypto charts unable to blink as a sudden rug pull sends them crashing to the depths of hell in just 30 sec.
From boy to man in half a min.
SBF wrote a letter from jail on this.
The only red screen you need is your entire crypto and stock portfolio bleeding like a stuck fucking pig forcing you to actually want to live a shorter life.
everyone knows everything now
information era is over
now it's about "retard maxxing" fr
log onto social media its all "studies" how everything is gonna kill you & optimize this optimize that, this tech, that tech
winners will get way from that shit & become retarded again
Waffle House this morning.
Black coffee.
Order T-Bone and eggs.
Standing at the bar.
Smoking my cig.
Manager comes up to me.
“This one’s on the house, boss”
Places food in front of me. Extra steak.
I nod. No need to even speak.
Eat my meal.
20 body squats between bites.
Cat call the boomer waitress.
Ask for entire restaurants checks.
It’s $2500.
I only have $2000 liquid & $500 sacs.
Rest of cash tied up in 10 leg MLB parlay.
Have her split the bill.
Throw my AmEx Centurion card down.
Stack $500 sacs like the twin towers.
No money left for tip so I let her see my naked shoulders.
Her lace panties fall to the tile floor.
Not even 9am and I’m king.
Todays journey has just begun.
True story time.
In Manhattan for meetings.
Absolute garbage bin of a city.
Buildings are vertical but the energy is horizontal.
Not a Waffle House in fucking sight.
Meeting with this pencil dick angel investor.
Looking to raise $1.9m for a new crypto venture.
Mastros Steakhouse.
Linen Capris. Button down (not buttoned).
Cig behind both ears.
Dress codes follow me.
Bust through the door like a 13 year olds first nut.
Heads turn quicker than Rickey Henderson.
Spot the rich cuck from a mile away.
He's sitting (of course) at the bar w/ a martini.
Bald. Navy suit. Black belt. Brown shoes.
First red flag of the night.
I redline it directly to him.
"Hey Brute. Nice to meet you. Take a seat."
I laugh in his face. No response needed.
$1.9 just turned into $2.9
Still standing. Presence ever increasing.
Waitress comes over. She's a 6. Good enough.
Order us both a glass of biodynamic organic wine.
Light my first cig. Still haven't spoken to him.
Can tell he's nervous. Clearly a rule follower.
Smell of American Spirit fills the room.
Customers start whispering. I own this space.
Wine comes. I taste. It's a 7.
Wine should always rate higher than the waitress.
Order 2 A5 Wagyu ribeyes. Blue rare.
"So I hear you're looking for some capital"
I still don't respond. Just a quick glance.
He's shrinking in his barstool by the second.
Might as well call me daddy.
Tell the waitress to put on the Yankees game.
Got $50k riding on the over. 7.5 runs.
Channel flips. 8 runs total. Winner.
Steaks come. Back to business.
Eat entire steak with my hands.
He's sweating. Right where I want him.
Still haven't said a word.
Unravel my napkin (never used it).
Write "$3.9m for 2%" on it with my burnt cig ashes.
Slide it in front of him like I'm going all in at the WSOP
He stands up (finally). Takes out his check book.
Hands me a blank check. Preston Waters energy.
I take a single Sacagawea coin out of my pocket.
Flip it to him. Light my second cig.
Walk back through the kitchen. Waitress follows me.
Hand job in the back alley. Hand her $10 in sacs.
2 kettle bells waiting there that I placed from earlier.
Walk back to Trump International Hotel.
Got another $3.9 to raise from the big man.
All in a nights work.
Heart of a fucking lion.
Sitting down is a psyop.
I haven’t sat down in almost 3 years. Not once.
I fuck standing. I sleep standing. I shit standing. I drive standing
Always vertical. Always closing. Eyes on the fucking prize
Prowling like a two footed shark in blood soaked waters
Killer mentality
Pressure creates profit.
When you live outside your means, you’re forced to ascend.
Open 5 credit cards. Check into a top hotel. Presidential suite.
Rent’s due every day. Room service steaks. Rare. Every fucking day.
Bang the maid. Fight the bellboy.
King in a week.
A lot of you motherfuckers lack turf.
Show up to the same Waffle House every. single. night. Tip the waitress with $1 coins and Marlboro lights. Make her feel like a Queen.
Eventually, when you need to hold court and raise 1.9 million, you’ve got your kingdom.
The Mission.
Ppl should never partake in endeavors that encourage the slowing down of breathing, heart rate, or the nervous system.
“Inhale 4 sec exhale 8 sec”
Fucking idiotic advice made for submissive twinks.
Your heart & lungs should be pounding so hard they’re practically begging to escape the prison that is your body.
Coffee, cigs, KB walks, standing sun naps, adrenaline from 10+ game parlays, WH HJs, the ending of Holes — all shown to put the body in pedal to the fucking metal mode.
I could literally die from laughter thinking of these missionless monk mode losers.
Chrysippus talked about this.
Being leveraged by massive debt is a cheat code
Take other’s $
Credit cards. Loans. Grandmas 401k/SS checks
Live massively outside your means
Lose it all & have the entire world including those you love seeking your demise
And watch yourself evolve
Metamorphosis of a degen
Just walked up to this rock bottom queen and blew a metric ton of cig smoke directly into her face.
Before the air cleared she was giving me a handjob.
Ackman types in fucking shambles.
Permissionmaxxing is already a telltale sign of homosexuality and neutered mindset.
But asking “may I meet you” to a woman is shattering the glass ceiling of hyperfaggotry.
May never be a gayer tweet.
Permissionmaxxing is already a telltale sign of homosexuality and neutered mindset.
But asking “may I meet you” to a woman is shattering the glass ceiling of hyperfaggotry.
May never be a gayer tweet.
I hear from many young men that they find it difficult to meet young women in a public setting. In other words, the online culture has destroyed the ability to spontaneously meet strangers. As such, I thought I would share a few words that I used in my youth to meet someone that I found compelling.
I would ask: “May I meet you?” before engaging further in a conversation. I almost never got a No.
It inevitably enabled the opportunity for a further conversation. I met a lot of really interesting people this way.
I think the combination of proper grammar and politeness was the key to its effectiveness. You might give it a try.
And yes, I think it should also work for women seeking men as well as same sex interactions.
Just two cents from an older happily married guy concerned about our next generation’s happiness and population replacement rates.