By David Futrelle
My new favorite Red Piller is Red Pill Duke, the not-so-humble proprietor of a blog called “Fight Club Theory” that purports to educate the masses on how to live one’s best bachelor life.
Most of his posts cover regular Red Pill stuff, ranging from lists of the “20 Rules of the Bachelor Life” (rule one: “No marriage!” seems a tad obvious) to the alleged disposability of the human male.
But sometimes he takes his little literary wings and just flies. Consider one recent post with the unprepossessing title “Coffee Shops and Bars.” In it, Red Pill Duke reports the result of a pre-quarantine experiment of sorts in which he spent a day tapping out his thoughts on a laptop while hanging out first in a coffee shop and then in a favorite bar.
It becomes quickly evident that he didn’t much like the cafe or its inhabitants.
The coffee shop is well lit, but full of society’s hipsters and posers. People plugging away at computers diligently working very hard to produce fuckall. Despite the crutch of stimulants and a perfect workspace, little seems to get done. Nearby a fat cow of a woman with a “speak to the manager haircut” walks in. She asks for a pen. She will likely crucify me if I give her my pen that says “www.redpillduke.com” on it. I say nothing while stacking up words in my mind to type later.
He never specifies which words he stacked up. I’d like to imagine they were cromulent, badger, metempsychosis, and shard. Those are pretty good words.
As a mysterious writer tucked away in the corner, I continue to mind my own business. I’m observing. A preserver of these evanescent moments of daily mundane activities. I am fitting in with my beanie and cozy sweater. My bulging muscles betray me and I fear their gluten intolerant noses pick up the scent of my toxic masculinity.
They probably did, if you spent your whole morning sitting nursing a single cup of coffee, scowling disdainfully at everyone around you. People can pick up on that.
Later, in the bar, RP Duke feels much more at home.
The bar is the yang to the ying of the coffee shop. It is dark and quiet.
Uh, the yang to the yin. No g. The Ying-Yang Twins are a rap group; the yin and the yang are the philosophical concepts.
A few of society’s more decadent and thus interesting, wander in and out of its cozy atmosphere. They talk of the truths of the town in quiet but more honest discourse. …
I belong here more than the coffee shop, not because of my demeanor or clothing choices. No, I belong here because everyone knows my name.
Huh. So you feel more at home at a place you go to all the time than at a place you’ve been to once. What an amazing revelation.
Also titties.
I once brought a woman I was seeing to this bar. I shit you not, I walked in and three fucking women gleefully shouted “Hey Duke” at me as I walked her in. The ultimate pickup artist couldn’t have planned a better dread game. … As we leave the bartender hugs me. This is the first time she’s done this. Her giant breasts press against my bulging chest muscles as my girl glares at her.
And then everyone in the bar stood up and applauded. That bartender’s name? Albert Einstein.
Amazingly, while RP Duke can use words like “evanescent” correctly, he sometimes struggles a bit with simpler ones. And he has a devil of a time sorting out some rather basic grammar. At one point he has this to say about the inhabitants of the bar:
They also know me cause I’m hear every week and my tongue loosen with each sinful sip from my steel member’s cup which dons my name.
There are a lot of sentences like that.
Yet the mothers against decadent delights decide that this drugs is bad while others are good.
In walks a man with a distinguished mustaches…. belay that. He shaved it off for the current flavor of the week.
The world may run on caffeine, but it is alcohol that stimulate true action and that is what makes change possible.
Here’s a thought, dude: try not to write when you’re drunk. Or maybe try not to write at all.
Oh, who am I kidding? Keep writing, dude. I always need material for my blog.
H/T — Big thanks to TakedownMRAs on Twitter, who introduced me and the rest of his followers to this delightful fellow.
Send tips to dfutrelle at gmail dot com.
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WWTH: when I was an employee interacting with the HR department I eventually learned to demand that the HR manager let me speak to her relevant underling. They were competent. She was not.
Her boss liked her though because he was even more incompetent and this way he wasn’t quite so threatened.
You really notice this is a very confident don’t give no fucks politically incorrect edgy manly man’s man when he’s afraid of what Fat Karen might think of him.
Actual photo of Red Pill Duke:
Wait. A Liefeld with no pouches?
This should not be.
It has also got seriously terrible perspective, among it’s other problems – unless Cap’s chest really does hinge open. 🙂
I guess that’s what they mean when they say “built like a fridge.” Clearly he’s got some six-packs in there.
@Cats In Shiny Hats
Spell check “corrections”? Or terms neither I nor Google are familiar with?
Inquiring minds need to know.
> LollyPop
Thank you for the information !
Strange how attributing a first name to designate a whole trend of persons is recurring. A pity for those who happen to have the name without the associated personality/behavior, though.
@Naglfar
Hair stuff has always been really complicated for me, mostly because I used to try and not care about how I looked (to combat dysphoria, I guess), so I mostly went with what seemed easiest. I had long hair for some years in my early teens, and I decided I’d never make that mistake again, because I hate the way it makes me look. In a strange turn of events, I find myself with long hair again and I don’t mind it. Apparently I just need the shaved sides to go with it, since if it falls down on both sides of my face, I feel like I look wrong, somehow.
I’m actually fairly certain I look better with short hair, but I somehow enjoy being able to put my hair up and trying for a nicer bun if there’s a festive occasion or some such.
@Surplus, Naglfar, Kat
Tear it out and short. Autocorrect got me and I was dumb and didn’t check it out, sorry.
@Stacey
Sorry for the delay in responding to your kind answer – been trying to think how to phrase this without sounding foolish or (worse!) patronising:
You’re a person with a lot of joy. That’s important to me – the world has it’s shitty aspects and there’s nowhere near enough joy in the world.
Glad I helped remind you of the good within the people in the industry. 🙂
Yeah the only people who should be invoking “Karen” are women of colour. Maybe just dark-skinned WoC, even. (I have a Facebook friend who talks about “Karens” all the time and it works because it makes sense in the proper original context.)
I have a friend called Karen who *is* a manager. She doesn’t seem to particularly like the term.
@Threp
Oh of course it’s ok, we Mammothteers come and go as life calls. I was away too working on my temple project, getting some guy friends oriented to new expectations and other cool stuff. I see I missed the hair style discussion but I was never a stylist anyway so didn’t want to mouth off. 🙂
Yes I do want to see and experience joy! Thank you for seeing that, again.
My art, my creativity and my time enjoying my guys are my joy. So is exercising my power. It all goes together and helps me send positive energy into the world.
Sending you positive thoughts!
Yeah, my coeliac arse is definitely going to want to avoid your toxicity, but I can’t bloody well smell the damned stuff. It only comes across in behaviour after all. (although if you do smell like toxic masculinity then what you need is a friggin’ shower, mate)