The Reactionary Mindset

“Reactionary” is one of those words that leads towards a certain amount of political heat. This article discusses it in a larger and more elemental context. I use “reactionary” here to describe thoughts and actions that are emotionally – perhaps reflexively – opposed to an initiating event.

In the political realm this can be a long process with a great deal of words and thought. In the day-to-day realms of the road and the office it can be brief or even unconscious. Whatever scale it occurs in, it is a response to the trampling of sacred ground, something tied to one’s space, self, or belonging.

It feels good. Boy does it feel good. Finally whipping ahead of that jerk in the fast lane, giving voice to that perfect comeback when they complain (again) about the coffee, or taking back that little piece of Europe that really belonged to you the whole time, being reactionary feels so very very good. It feeds those lizards and monkeys the psychologists say are lurking just out of sight in the back of our minds.

But it comes at a price.

The Price of Being Reactionary

Being reactive means that one’s self is defined by external factors. If he jumps, I duck. If he moves left, I move right. While the mind perceives this as fighting the good fight, this is an illusion; in reality I become a flailing accessory to the real actor, my opponent.

In the end I will be nothing more than a shadow complement to all the things I react against.

The natural human instinct to band together against opponents results in strong lines of communication between the members of the group that results. This results in feedback loops that reinforce certain ideas while drowning out others. The ideas that resonate will be ones that touch on strong emotions – anger, fear, superiority, schadenfreude – and are easy to transmit; in short, memes. Ideas that resonate less will be less transmitted and will fail to become central to the group consciousness.

Simple but meme-y ideas will have an advantage over fact-based but less resonant ones. This feeds the in-group social economy while drawing attention away from long-term real-world benefits.

Whether one reacts as an individual or as a member of a group, reactions become habitual and therefore thoughtless. When you find a reaction that gives you enough of an anger hit you will tend to return to it day after day.

There is nothing inherently wrong with having reactions to events. Used correctly and in their proper place they are helpful, even essential. If we had to think deeply about every event that ever happened we would all have been eaten a long time ago.

There are relatively few situations that always call for only one reaction. If we always react the same way, sooner or later it will be a mistake. It is difficult and rare enough for a man to scratch his head and evaluate himself. If he is part of a group that culturally reinforces the same set of reactions, how much more rarely will he step out and change when a new situation calls for it?

The man who spends his life responding to events with the same set of reactions will never strengthen the mental skills necessary for higher work. His reactions will be all he knows and the little culture to which he belongs will uphold that as a fine thing. He will vigorously defend himself against mental growth and reward himself for succeeding.

With the affirmation of his peers and the heady rush of his own success, how likely is he to grow beyond such low thinking? The borders in his mind will not be the result of thoughtful choice and deep reflection; they will be little more than the fault lines of whatever conflicts and dichotomies happen to surround him and he will wave his self-limitations as a triumph.

Treating Reactionary Thinking

There is a difference between having a response to a situation and being defined by that response.

The man who has a response is larger than the situation. The man who is defined by his response is smaller.

Neither man chooses to be large or small; it is simply who he is. Each believes himself justified in his position and actions. What a man becomes is determined largely by the choices he makes, and those choices are not independent of the values, beliefs, and perceptions he already has when he makes them.

None-the-less we can choose between differing paths of development as they are presented to us, and knowledge of final consequences can inform those choices. Of two men with the same character and values, the one seeing far and thinking deeply will often come to different conclusions than the one who plunges ahead with bold ignorance.

The difference is reflection.

Question: Do I derive value from engaging in conflict itself, or do I engage in it only when it is a necessary chore in the service of a larger goal?

Both victory and the comradeship of conflict provide reinforcing pleasure. If you serve no higher motive than that is all you are.

Question: Do I take meaningful time to sincerely learn on my own and to derive conclusions?

Peer groups do not only provide company, they provide input and reinforcement. The information and beliefs transmitted by your peer group will always be biased towards the social and emotional energy flows that hold the group together. Acquiring outside data is more difficult and often confusing.

Question: Am a willing to step away from the social structures that support me?

It is easy to say ‘yes,’ but if you have not yet done this you do not truly know who is in charge of your life.

The man who makes space and time for his deeper self will find it easier to avoid the reactive mindset because he trains himself to be regularly introspective and independent.

The man who inspects and prunes his relationships has better control over his life than the man who does not. A relationship is an open gate in the wall of your mind. Be careful who gets the keys and don’t be afraid to confiscate them based on bad behavior.

Book 1 Chapter 2

Quintus was tired of marching. It was one thing to tromp along a well-paved cobblestone road in the dry air of Italia or even Gaul, but quite another to push your way through a cool, damp forest so dense that sunlight did not reach you. From first awakening to the time he fell into his cot at night it was perpetual twilight. The birds had even stopped singing a few days ago. By Mithras, his feet hurt.

“Quintus! Over here, you goat lover.”

Quintus turned and saw a centurion waving him over. It was Flavius Attillo. A right nasty piece of work, he loved to stick it to the cohorts when he could.

“This ought to be good,” Quintus muttered as he slogged over to where Attilo stood. There were already several other legionnaires there as well. Looked like around a dozen of them. What was this about?

Quintus halted near the centurion and exchanged glances with several of the other men. They all shrugged or made some other sign of puzzlement. No one seemed to know what this was about.

“All right, turds, here is what I need you to do. Orders have come down the duct that there have been some sighting of barbarian activity in the vicinity of our column. As strung out as we are, we don’t need some mud caked chieftain deciding to prove himself by snatching a supply wagon or two, so we are dispatching small groups, like yourselves, to patrol along the column.”

More glances exchanged. Some shuffling of feet.

“I know, I know. You’re wondering why you’ve been chosen. To be honest it was completely random and you’re the winning hand so let’s make the best of it, shall we? Yes, what is it?”

One of the other men had twitched a hand up. Flavius looked at him in exasperation.

“Centurion, what exactly are we supposed to do?”

“You are to penetrate these woods and stay out of sight of the column, slinking around hoping to catch some barbarian turd unawares. Hopefully you can capture one of the pricks and bring them in for questioning. At the end of the day you can return to camp and sleep, but you are to be in the woods again before we begin the march. If you see anything too alarming, feel free to send someone to let me know. Any questions?”

There were none and they were dismissed to dispose of unnecessary weight. They would enter the dark forest with only their armor and gladii. They could bring rations as well. Within minutes the men were ready and they slipped into the trees.

*       *      *      *       *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *

Ulaf watched as his men built a wall. They had been preparing this ambush for over a week. There was a long line of brush woven together with the ground cleared in front of it. In front of the wall was a pit of wooden spikes covered with loose brush. This was all set several hundred strides away from the track that the Romans were set to take, thanks to Arminius’ guiding them. Other men had been sent out to harass the Roman lines and inflame their martial spirit, so that when the time came the foreigners would be all too happy to chase their tormentors into the woods.

It wouldn’t be long now. They would secure their homes from the incursion of the Roman filth. Just a little longer….

*       *       *       *        *       *       *       *       *        *       *       *

Quintus slipped into the brush in the pre-dawn murk. It had been three days with no sighting of the natives. He was beginning to think this was a waste of time. His compadres fell in along the line they were taking as they tried their best to move silently through the wood.

Quintus stopped and leaned back against a wide tree. The light was finally growing to the dim light that was the best this forest could muster, but at least he could see his own hands now.

He heard one of the other legionaries moving in close and he turned to greet them. Perhaps they had some news. What he saw instead was the painted face of a German. He opened his mouth to yell, but something slammed into his throat and he couldn’t make a sound. He saw a long piece of wood jutting out beneath his chin and felt warmth rush down his chest. It was his blood.

*       *       *       *        *       *       *       *       *        *       *       *       *

Ulaf watched the light leave the Romans’ eyes. Pulling the spear out of the man’s throat, he wiped the point off one the man’s tunic, then searched the Roman for anything of value. Ulaf stripped the armor off and tried it on. It was a fair fit. He would keep it. He also would keep the Roman gladius. He already had one but he could always trade it. There was also some food in the Roman’s pouch and a canteen.

Ulaf listened and heard the bird call that signaled the “all clear”. So his men had managed to overtake the entire patrol, then. Good. It wouldn’t be long now.

The Value of a Moose Turd Pie

For those of you unfamiliar with the concept of the Moose Turd Pie, it is the act of being purposely inept at some activity so that you don’t have to do it. When I was a little kid, my dad was a horrible cook. If my mom was gone, we would have toast or gummy mac-n-cheese. At 8 years old, I could cook better than my dad. However, my mom was fairly decent. Consequently, she would do 90% of the cooking while my dad would do the bulk of the work on the farm.

Now, my parents are getting old, and my mom is getting rather geriatric. She does what she can in her wheelchair, but she is unable to do much of the cooking or cleaning. My dad has stepped up to the plate, and it appears that he has become a decent cook in the last decade.

Thinking back to my grandparents, I noticed the same pattern. My grandpa worked on the outside stuff, but fumbled around with anything in the house until the point came that my grandma physically could not do it anymore.

Our Moose Turd Pies

I hate doing laundry, when we met in college, I would just wash and stuff the clothes in the drawers. I wouldn’t bother sorting, just dump the basket into my dresser and pick out the socks, or shirts out of the pile as I needed. My wife, on the other hand, spends time hanging up the closes, folding, ironing and the whole bit. I know how to do all that, but I couldn’t be bothered. I will help fold, but never along the right creases or whatever.

On the other hand, my wife abhors working on cars. Something as simple as changing a tire is beyond her, so she will leave it up to me. I know she could if her life depended on it, but I go ahead and do it. I like my tools to be put back where they go, and I like to know the nuts are on tight.

Conclusion

On the outset, these may seem like a negative behavior. I could take the time to do the laundry, but instead, I am “dependent” on her to make sure I have underwear in my drawer. She is “dependent” on me to make sure the car is running. In essence, we are working together as a team in this journey of life.

Liberalism~Psychoticism

Some interesting food for thought. I stumbled across this in the NY Post. It gave me some insight into the liberal mindset, which I think might help me understand them a little.

The American Journal of Political Science published a correction this year saying that the 2012 paper has “an error” — and that liberal political beliefs, not conservative ones, are actually linked to psychoticism.

“The interpretation of the coding of the political attitude items in the descriptive and preliminary analyses portion of the manuscript was exactly reversed,” the journal said in the startling correction.

“The descriptive analyses report that those higher in Eysenck’s psychoticism are more conservative, but they are actually more liberal; and where the original manuscript reports those higher in neuroticism and social desirability are more liberal, they are, in fact, more conservative.”

In the paper, psychoticism is associated with traits such as risk-taking, sensation-seeking, impulsivity and authoritarianism.

The journal said the error doesn’t change the main conclusions of the paper, which found that “personality traits do not cause people to develop political attitudes.”

But professor Steven Ludeke of the University of Southern Denmark, who pointed out the errors, told Retraction Watch that they “matter quite a lot.”

“The erroneous results represented some of the larger correlations between personality and politics ever reported; they were reported and interpreted, repeatedly, in the wrong direction,” he said.

 

Risk Taking

This study links the liberal mindset with risk taking. These people are more likely to abandon security and cast themselves to the winds of fate. This can be both a pro and a con.

On the positive side, this means liberals by and large are willing to step out without security, which can lead to great things. On the flip side, however, failure means destruction with no safety net.

 

Sensation Seeking

A personality trait defined by the search for experiences and feelings, that are “varied, novel, complex and intense”, and by the readiness to “take physical, social, legal, and financial risks for the sake of such experiences.”

Sensation-seeking can be divided into 4 traits:

  • Thrill- and adventure-seeking: Desire for outdoor activities involving unusual sensations and risks, such as skydiving, scuba diving, high-speed driving and flying.

Pretty self-explanatory.

  • Experience-seeking: Referring to new sensory or mental experiences through unconventional choices, also including psychedelic experience, social nonconformity and desire to associate with unconventional people.

Could explain the need to experience new things re: homosexuality, transgender, other sexual deviancies. Social nonconformity is not wanting to line up with established norms. Basically this all lines up with rebellion against authority.

  • Disinhibition: Preference of “out of control” activities such as wild parties, drinking and illegal activities

Again, a proclivity to rebel. Also why most homosexuals seem to fit in the liberal mindset, since their lifestyle is high-risk from the get-go. Also shows why they seek acceptance for their behavior. In the liberal mind, everyone that is sane thinks that risk taking is normal, hence their unwillingness to accept that there are others who don’t take their approach (BURN THE HERITIC!!!)

  • Boredom susceptibility: intolerance of repetition or boring people, and restlessness in such conditions.

Of course, to the liberal mind anything that is established as normal behavior is boring and the boundaries MUST be pushed.

Impulsivity

Leaping before looking. Going off of emotion not reason. AIDS did not become a thing without impulsive behavior. Having a thought or emotion flash through your mind doesn’t mean you have to act on it, or even dwell on it. Just because a bird flies over your head doesn’t mean you have to let it build a nest.

A lack of self-control. Of course, self-control is an oppressive established cultural norm so it must be opposed. It’s boring.

Authoritarianism

Which all leads to the desire to tell everyone else how they should be living up to your ideals, because after all, you’re much smarter than those oafish conservatives. How dare they prefer the established pillars of Western civilization? They’re boring.

Totalitarianism has been left-wing, for the most part. Hitler? Socialist. Stalin? Communist. Mao? Commie. Pol Pot? Commie.

Just trust your betters, they said. We know what’s best for you, they said. Remember that social norms are oppressive, they said.

Food for thought.

 

 

Feminism is Cancer

 

The official definition of feminism is a range of political movements, ideologies, and social movements that share a common goal: to define, establish, and achieve political, economic, personal, and social equality of sexes. This includes seeking to establish educational and professional opportunities for women that are equal to those for men

Unfortunately, feminism has morphed into a women’s supremacy movement. What was once started to give women equal access to voting and the workplace has turned into a movement that hates men and seeks to see women elevated to a pedestal. It’s not about equal rights, no matter what they say. It’s about establishing a gynocracy where women rule over men. This never turns out well.

When placed in positions of authority, the majority of women will turn to backbiting and payback. This means nothing worthwhile gets accomplished in lue of jockeying for favors and position. One could argue that the feminization of our society has led to the increased amount of vitriol and divisiveness.

The feminine nature is one of chaos and emotion. Left unchecked it is like the wilderness. Where once stood majestic landscapes and tended lawns is now choked with weeds and brambles. Where there once was order there is now chaos.

Where there once was beauty, there is now nastiness and a despising of all that is wholesome.

 

Do not let your female family fall prey to this insidious mentality. It takes innocence and purity and turns it into filth.

Feminism is just one of many ways in which certain forces seek to destroy our civilization. It has led to the LBGFIVHNASDVH1E74$4&6)8 movement and is starting to make noise about accepting pedophilia. Call me a conspiracy nut (Hi, Uncle Bob) but I see guiding hands behind this. Once America is destroyed, who is there to stand in the way?

Feminism. Is. Cancer.

STORIES OF MY EX-WIFE – PART 1* – Jammyjaybird

Picture it: Tall, sexy, legs up to her neck, an apple bottom that swings a bit too sexily when she walks in her designer jeans. Twenty-three-year-old American girl with a big mane of blonde hair, and she has a swagger, like she knows that everybody is always looking at her. She’s right. They are.

On our first date, two other guys try hitting on her when I go to the bathroom. I can’t blame them.

Second date, we bang for close to three hours. She’s on the pill and we go bareback and she’s incredible. After, I pass out and she cooks me fresh pasta. This can’t be real. She’s hot and she bangs like a minx and she cooks for her man.

But she’s blonde, and I like brunettes. Still, who am I to complain about this gift that has fallen into my lap.

I find out that she’s funny too, which is rare in a woman. She literally makes me laugh out loud—hard. How many women you know can make you do that? Today, I understand the humor was just a mask for her aggressive nature. But I didn’t know that then.

She works part-time near my apartment. Couple times a week, at lunchtime, she comes over for food and sex, in whatever order. One day, she says that we ought to be exclusive. I quickly agree. In my mind, it’s never going to get better than this. I’m happy. She’s happy. After almost a decade of dating—I’m thirty—the world feels reborn.

After a month, she goes home to visit her mother and father. I’m going to marry this guy, she tells them. I find this out years later.

We become inseparable. She’s a highly emotional person, reactive, full of laughter. This is not my usual cup of tea, but for some reason—that starts with ‘p’ and ends in ‘y’—I decide to strap myself to this rocket and see how far it goes. I’m entranced by her personality, her body, everything.

Halloween comes. I dress as Hugh Hefner, she’s a Playboy bunny. Bustier, fishnets, heels, pink ears. Out on the streets that night, we draw a thousand stares. Aw, who am I kidding—they were all looking at her.

We buy tickets for a journey to South America. Two weeks, no tour guide, just us and our combined weak-ass Spanish. We barely have the money to afford it but who cares. It feels like the world is our oyster. Photos from that trip still pluck a heartstring. It’s the best memory I have of our time together.

I know your next question. If she’s your ex-wife, weren’t there warnings signs?

Of course there were.

 

THE RED FLAGS

  1. The tramp stamp on her lower back. What a classic tell. I knew what it meant then, just like I know what it means now. I just didn’t care.
  2. The screaming fits when her desires cannot be fulfilled. On a couple occasions, I have to hold the phone away from my ear, the bellowing is so loud. My justification: It’s a phase. She’s seven years younger than me. She’ll grow out of it.
  3. The closet crammed full of designer shoes and designer clothing. On a part-time fifteen-dollar-an-hour wage.
  4. The Sex and the City ringtone on her phone. That damn song haunts me to this day.
  5. The way she walks a step ahead of me. She will not let me lead.

I knew these were red flags. I didn’t care. Here’s why.

  1. Her parents had a strong marriage. High school sweethearts, fun people, very loving.
  2. Her parents also liked me. A lot. Her dad gets drunk and falls off a roof into a pool the first night that I meet him. The second night I meet him, he tells me he loves me after I go around finishing other people’s cocktails in a tiki bar. Honestly, I loved that guy too. Everybody does. He is the life of the party, a larger than life character, an absolute force of nature. The type of guy that they will tell stories about for decades after he passes away. You know the type.
  3. I have total confidence in my ability to overcome relationship problems through the force of my own will.
  4. She’s smart. I assume I can reason with a smart person. (You know what they say about assumptions.)

I don’t remember how this happened in my head, but a year and a half of this rapturous passion goes by, without dimming, and I decide it’s time that we should get married. I search for and find a travel package – only $1000 for a winter trip for two to Vienna, Austria, plane and hotel included. She’d always wanted to go there.

I suggest the vacation. She gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. I purchase the package, then give her a card a day later. Inside I write: Do you know what’s going to happen in Vienna? As she reads it, I hold her eyes.

“What’s going to happen?” she says.

“Let’s go shopping this Saturday,” I reply.

Now she’s all excited. “For what?”

“You know for what,” I say.

Her eyes light up. She’s running around like a beautiful but overstimulated rat. That Saturday, with her at my side, I purchase the seven-thousand-dollar ring of her dreams, on credit. That was two months’ salary, more or less, at that time. Yes, I followed the classic advice for chumps, not knowing any better. (Today? It would be an eighty-dollar ring, or maybe just a kiss on the cheek.)

Interesting thing, though, was that I was the driver of the engagement and the marriage, not her. This is not typical. Usually men have to be dragged into a relationship. I guess it shows how certain I was that we were meant to be together.

Regardless, when we come back from Vienna with a pair of rings on our fingers, I have no idea of the absolute shitshow that was about to enter my life. And she is going to be the star.

 

Coming up in Part 2: How it all went bad.

 

*some identifying details have been changed.

  • Jammyjaybird