I have a new, Official Theme Song.  Without further ado, I present you with:

Screamin’ Jay Hawkins: I Am The Cool

Distinguished Organ,

On the eve of this Great Offensive I take the opportunity to offer you my gratitude.  Your sacrifice has been great these many months, and the character of your service is without peer.  You have put yourself to the hazard in this great War on Boredom.  Without your tireless devotion to The Cause we would be lost.

We have met the Enemy a thousand times.  We will meet him again.  We will fight him in the streets.  We will fight him in the bars.  We will not rest until he is vanquished.

There are those who believe that we can never defeat such a foe.  This malaise lurks in the darkest corners of the hearts of men.  His weapons are insidious, his action slow and terrible.  However, it is here that he betrays himself – for he cannot bear to face us honorably.

We will not defeat him by overcoming him, but by the act of fighting itself.  Our conviction will see us through.

Our Cause is noble.  Our battle is just.  Our courage shall not waver.  We will look the Enemy in the eye.  He will know our name is Death.

Faithfully Yours,

Max

Germans are a serious lot.  They like their women blonde and their warfare scorching.  They want perfection in everything, and will invent the math to have it when necessary.

I am very serious about my drinking.  I have, over time, worked it down to an art form.  I cannot call it a science because the outcome is never certain.  However, with a lot of practice and a bit of old Kentucky Windage, I can make it look like one.

Drinking is about method. Read more

Old music tonight.  A tune that has been out of my rotation for at least five years.  It has been a rough week, but this song is not helping my mood.  If I’m smart, I’ll lock myself in my office tonight and eat sedatives until I wake up in a puddle of drool.

I know that won’t happen . . . Read more

I stood at the gas pump tonight, staring at my boots, listening to the machine tick its way through my bank account.  I leaned forward to spit, but the sudden pressure in my jaw veto’d.

I tried not to think about what it cost me to get four deeply rooted wisdom teeth pried from my head.

I tried not to think about the $80 I spent on eggs, vitamins and vegetable juice tonight.  I refused to look at the gas pump.

Read more

(First Published at The Spearhead)

Denise Romano v. The Seduction Community

Denise Romano is no friend of pick-up artists.  Ms. Romano has accused pick-up artists of being abusive to women.  She claims that Game represents a kind of Fraud, invalidating consent for women who have sex with pick-up artists.

Ms. Romano believes that Game, and pick-up artists, are morally culpable for coercing women into having sex.  She believes that Game is a kind of brainwashing, that it manipulates the will, therefore constituting sexual assault.

Denise Romano is just bitter . . .

Ms. Romano argues ad nauseum that Game is morally wrong.  She attacks the specific terms that pick-up artists use, claiming that they objectify women.  She thinks that some pick-up artists are rude, awful jackasses who use women for sex without consideration for that woman’s feelings.

On some accounts, she is right.

Ms. Romano makes a Kantian argument.  Intentionally or not, she evokes the Categorical Imperative.

In the First Formulation of the Categorical Imperative, Kant states:

“Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.”

The first formulation is based on the “golden rule”, Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  A universalizable maxim is a moral duty.  A maxim must be logically consistent.  It is not logical to will that you can steal from others without allowing that they can steal from you.

So don’t convince attractive people to have sex with you unless you want them to do the same.

The Second Formulation is closer to Ms. Romano’s logic:

“Act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of any other, always at the same time as an end and never merely as a means to an end.”

This second formulation more specifically addresses Ms. Romano’s objection to Game and the Seduction Community.  Her real objection is that pick-up artists use women for sex without regard for their inherent moral value as persons (i.e. moral agents; people are capable of making moral choices, and therefore have moral worth).

If I were a Kantian, I would care.

The premise that seduction is inherently abusive assumes that people have a moral duty to one another.  Where does this moral duty come from?  Is there a divine law that we mustn’t break?  Does the power of Christ compel us?

No it doesn’t.

There is no such thing as moral obligation.  Morality is a social construct, an abstraction grown out of the human aversion to pain and death.  Right and wrong amount to personal injury and property damage.

How can this be?  If this were the case – if the world were, in fact, amoral – then life would be horrible!  We would all live in constant fear of pain and death.  The truth is, we do.  The world is a dangerous place.  It does not care about your pain.

Only you do.

Each of us recognizes the fact that such an existence – one of constant fear and danger – is miserable.  Each of us accepts, if only tacitly, a kind of great truce with our fellow man.  Thomas Hobbes calls it the Second Law of Nature:

” . . . that a man be willing, when others are so too, as far forth as for peace and defence of himself he shall think it necessary, to lay down this right to all things; and be contented with so much liberty against other men as he would allow other men against himself.” – The Leviathan; Chapter XIV

There it is again, the Golden Rule.  The difference here is that Hobbes isn’t concerned with universalizable maxims.  Hobbes suggests that we shouldn’t run around bonking each other over the head and stealing one another’s shit because a world like that would be miserable.

That does not mean we are obligated in any way to treat other persons with regard for their moral agency.  It means we must treat them with regard for their ability to kill us and take our shit.

See the difference?

Society is not based on altruistic principles, but on self-interest.  Each of us are responsible for our own well-being.  We are not obliged to worry about the wants or needs of others, except when we choose to.

As far as Game is concerned, Consent is the extent of the Law.

Here is where Ms. Romano’s argument thickens.  She holds that Game is a kind of Fraud, therefore legally invalidating any Consent given.

Ms. Romano’s premise relies upon the fact that Game is a form of deception.  Pick-up artists will often use a variety of deceitful practices in order to seduce a woman.  They adopt persona cultivated to entice women, they use canned material that is often little more than phony stories, they may lie about their names or facts about their lives.

Pick-up artists lie their asses off.

The problem is that lying and Fraud are not the same thing.  People lie all the time, and are guilty of nothing more than bad taste.  Pick-up artists lie and are guilty of nothing more than being douche bags.

Women wear flattering clothing to hide their flaws.  They use make-up to conceal blemishes and padded bras to accentuate their breasts.  They tell men all kinds of things to attract them, and sometimes they lie.

Does any of this constitute Fraud?  No.

Fraud: A false representation of a matter of fact—whether by words or by conduct, by false or misleading allegations, or by concealment of what should have been disclosed—that deceives and is intended to deceive another so that the individual will act upon it to her or his legal injury.

Fraud must be proved by showing that the defendant’s actions involved five separate elements: (1) a false statement of a material fact, (2) knowledge on the part of the defendant that the statement is untrue, (3) intent on the part of the defendant to deceive the alleged victim, (4) justifiable reliance by the alleged victim on the statement, and (5) injury to the alleged victim as a result.

Elements 1-4 are clear; they outline the constituent parts of a lie.  Element 5 is where things get tricky.  In order for a lie to constitute Fraud, it must cause injury.  Specifically, the victim must be deprived of rights or property.  Furthermore, any lies must be false “statements of fact”.

Opinions and qualitative statements don’t count.

When a woman has sex with a pick-up artist, she is not buying a sales pitch or exchanging goods or services.  She is engaging in consensual sex.  Sex is straight-forward, what you see is what you get.  There is no false advertising once the clothes come off.

Buyers beware.

One sticking point here concerns STDs; a person who knowingly endangers another without making their partner aware of their condition beforehand obviates that person’s ability to make an informed decision.

. . . And if you’re having unprotected sex or being incautious with your body, shame on you.

In most cases, when someone goes home with a person they have just met, they do so at their own peril.  If bad sex or a smirch on your reputation is the worst that happens, count your blessings.  Consider the ramifications of your actions before you act, there is no RESET button.

Denise Romano’s argument is the argument of a bitter woman looking to obviate her own responsibility for having slept with someone she regrets.  I am not stating that this is actually the case.  I don’t care.

Game is just nerdy guys trying to get laid.  It isn’t magic.  It isn’t hypnosis.  It certainly isn’t sexual assault.  It’s just a game.

If women want to stand on equal footing with men then they have to accept the fact that, when they wake up next to a Gorgon, maybe they should have said No to that last shot of Jagermeister.

As for Denise Romano, maybe she should stop drinking the Kool-Aid.

Every day is a test of my patience.  Some days I cope with boredom, hunting for tasks and purpose.  On other days I find myself repeating the same tasks ad nauseum.  Watching your work disintegrate over and over is aggravating, at best.

My supervisor informed me that something I had spent a lot of time on had been wrecked.  The city workers who destroyed it were still there.  I slammed the door against the wall on my way out.  I was a block up when my boss told me, over the phone, don’t say anything to them . . .

I stood there, looking at the mess the guys had made.  Oh well, they said.  I didn’t say anything.  The supervisor wouldn’t have heard me over his chainsaw.

I went back to the shop.  My boss was still stewing about the incident.  One of my co-workers, who was born in Guyana, started laughing when he saw me.

“Awww, sheeeat boy . . . ya talk ta them?”

“No,” I said.  ”Wasn’t worth the bother.”

“Dey naw say nothin’?”

“Nope.”

“Dey must saw you comin’, man.  Dat ‘rude boy’ walk,” he flared his elbows and swaggered a few feet.  ”Dey be thinkin’ Fuck No, Man, sheeeat . . . “

I’m the only one at work that can understand anything he says.

I got the reference.

I didn’t respond.

I walked in the door and dropped my duffel.  Before kicking off my boots, before pissing, or taking off my jacket, I poured two fingers of whiskey and washed down a milligram of melatonin.

I showered and sorted through a pile of clean clothes.  Now I’m sitting on the couch, trying to keep my eyes open . . .

Read more

You can tell a lot about a person by their drinking habits.

After a gluttonous holiday season, I have suddenly run out of whiskey.  Most of the time I am a monk.  I have to be.  I ration things for myself because I know that once I am moving I am at wide open throttle until the gas runs out.

I am a fiend.  If I have access to a liquor cabinet with more than just a lone bottle of booze in it, I will swim through it with the efficiency of military drill team.  I am sorting out the aftermath of my Christmas binge and I was reminded of some of my less flattering habits.  After running out of Maker’s, I was forced to take what I could get. Read more

I’ve recently jumped onto the Mad Men bandwagon.  I don’t watch TV, so much as pass out drunk in front of it.  I haven’t parked my ass in front of the tube so eagerly since Deadwood.  The writing on Mad Men is brilliant. Read more