I’ve smoked DMT infused Changa that made me think I was dying, sat underneath a tree as a bunch of clowns began to mock me in an alternate dimension that ripped open in the corner of my vision, wandered through the forest high on mescaline convinced I am the devil myself, but allow me to say: There is no drug as good as upward social mobility. You’re born as white trash. Your children grow up indistinguishable from the middle class. Your grandchildren have a blue check on Twitter and are privileged enough to parrot liberal platitudes. Then, before you exhale your last breathe, you watch your great-grandchildren seize control over the world.
That’s the dream, isn’t it? To raise children who are sheltered enough to be capable of raising daughters sheltered enough, to stand somewhere on a square with a “refugees welcome” or a “black lives matter” sign, as the first step towards their lazy career as a Twitter blue check at some government department, media rag or NGO. Imagine being an old man and realizing that your granddaughters truly have no idea how the world actually works, they are as ignorant and naive as a Dodo on Mauritius when faced with a hungry Dutch sailor. Well old man, if that’s the case, then you’re truly living the dream.
The rich and privileged can afford to be completely delusional and isolated from reality. If you want to understand how the world really works on the other hand, you have to talk to poor uneducated people: White trash, ghetto-dwellers, actual refugees (the “refugees” tend to be children of third world middle class families). Poor people can’t afford to hold socially fashionable opinions, so they will generally tell you the truth. Privileged people are so delusional these days, that you don’t need to be very intelligent to see through their nonsense, you just need to be marginalized. Who is the most marginalized person in American society? It’s your racist uncle Bob.
What’s the truth? The truth is literally everything your racist uncle Bob who dropped out of high school tells you during Thanksgiving when he had a drink too many: The Mexicans took his job, the vaccine is made from a genetically manipulated monkey virus, your daughter is not non-binary she just hasn’t been smacked on the bottom enough (if you don’t do it she’ll find someone else to do it)*, wealthy liberals fly to tropical islands to have sex with teenagers, the pandemic is over when they’re certain they got rid of Trump, China doesn’t give a shit about global warming and the Earth was intelligently designed 6000 years ago.
You heard me right: Every low status opinion is correct, with zero exceptions. Your racist uncle Bob has never been wrong. If you don’t have a racist uncle Bob (ie, you probably have a blue check on Twitter), then the closest you can come to pure gnosis is to take every claim made by “fact-checkers” and to believe the exact opposite. The truth disseminates into this world through obscure blogs like this one, articles that are deleted the next day and Facebook rants by “self-employed” divorced middle-aged men who live in small towns and suffer addiction to opioids.
Your racist uncle Bob is even right about drugs: You and me can go ahead and snort 5-Meo-DMT like there’s no tomorrow, but you can’t beat a Quaalude. If you don’t understand why boomers voted Trump, a twice divorced Godless hedonist, just realize: They saw him as their best chance to bring back the Quaaludes.
Part of becoming an adult means abandoning grudges. First you ask yourself if someone’s intentions were to help you, but the effect was counterproductive. If you have to answer no, then you ask yourself, if someone was unable to genuinely grasp what they were doing to you. If you have to answer no again, then you have to ask yourself if they were so overburdened with suffering that they became indifferent to yours. If you have to answer no again, then you have to ask yourself if they appear to feel genuine remorse. If not, then it will be difficult to abandon the grudge.
Another part of becoming an adult is the shock you feel when you realize you find yourself asking the same questions that people have been searching answers to for generations. You were raised with the implicit assumption that these questions were now obsolete. Then a glorified cold virus shows up and all of a sudden the people who never asked themselves what it means to be human lose their minds. What do the people who did not panic have in common? They’ve thought about the fact that they are eventually going to die and integrated that realization into their lives. If you haven’t, then you’re now left LARPing the zombie apocalypse whenever you visit the supermarket.
Something I notice in the Netherlands is that the Muslims generally don’t wear face-diapers. It’s one of these ethnic dynamics you’re not supposed to notice. The average Dutch citizen would interpret this as a complaint, I see it as positive: Their faith means they’re able to accept that some parts of life are outside of human control. Without your racist uncle Bobs, Americans would spend the rest of their lives as Chinese debt slaves, waiting for an epidemiologist to announce when they’re allowed to leave their homes again. For us Europeans, we would probably spend the rest of our lives as Chinese debt slaves if it weren’t for the fact that Muslim migrants simply can’t lie awake at night worrying about a glorified cold virus. They continue going to the mosque, they continue holding parties and they don’t wear face-diapers. Good for them.
Here’s another ethnic dynamic you’re not supposed to pay attention to, just for the heck of it: If a pale nerdy white teenage boy plays heavy metal music in the train, it will take five seconds before some lady walks up and asks him to put in his earplugs. If on the other hand, a young man who happens to be of sub-Saharan origin plays rap music that blares through the train, people will pretend not to notice it. Clearly middle-aged Dutch women must love rap but hate heavy metal.
It’s low-status for me to say these things, because these are things that are true, awkward and not that difficult to notice. We have the archetype of uncle Bob for us, who is supposed to remind us once or twice a year at the dinner table after one or two drinks too many how the world actually works. Then, throughout the rest of the year, we can continue to parrot socially convenient liberal platitudes on Twitter or at work, without having to be afraid of actually starting to believe in them ourselves.
I think in North Korea most families must have a racist uncle Bob too, who reminds them once or twice a year that the country is actually a hereditary dictatorship ruled by an overweight gnome in a palace whose grandfather claimed to be a communist. I can just imagine the North Koreans getting really offended when their racist uncle Bob tells them that he doesn’t believe Kim Jong Il once had five holes-in-ones during a round of golf: “That’s enough Bob… if you insist on insulting our dear leader and spreading conspiracy theories like some kind of racist cave-dwelling troglodyte, could you at least bring up the bare minimum courtesy to not do so around the children? Thanks Bob.”
I’ll say one more low-status thing: Progressive Dutch people will sign up for a lifetime of debt slavery, to live in an ethnically homogeneous neighborhood. Essentially multiculturalism can be considered a giant social experiment: It’s an attempt at figuring out how much money white people are willing to borrow, to afford the privilege of having socially convenient beliefs, without having to face the consequences of those beliefs.
If you want to live in a 1960’s version of the Netherlands, it’s perfectly possible: Just spend a lot of money! If you can only borrow 200,000 euro to buy a house, you’ll wake up in the morning from the call to prayer and you might have to spend some money every once in a while to fix the bullet holes in your wall whenever a cocaine deal went sour. If you go to the nearest local supermarket to buy some fruit, you’ll be greeted by the decapitated head of a lamb at the counter. It’s guaranteed to be halal!
If you can borrow 300,000 euro to buy a house, ie you both work a full-time shitjob, you can live around the ethnically Dutch working class, what we call “tokkies”. Dutch people will be reading this and asking themselves “really? 300,000 euro to live around tokkies?” but if you doubt me when I say it costs 300,000 euro to live around tokkies, you’re merely revealing yourself to be old. Prices have gone up by 12% compared to 2019, so yes, it now costs 300,000 euro to live around tokkies. Expect to enjoy random fireworks explosions in your neighbor’s garden during soccer matches on TV, five dogs on every square meter of park and competitions for parking space.
If you somehow manage to borrow 800,000 euro, you can migrate to one of the idyllic enclaves of the bourgeoisie: Baarn, Hilversum, Wassenaar, Bloemendaal, Laren, etc. This is where the Netherlands actually looks the way right-wing Americans hope the Netherlands still looks when they visit this country to find out where the Pilgrim fathers lived. If you can borrow 800,000 euro, when you go to the local park you can expect to see blonde teenage girls on horses, middle-aged men in polo shirts with wives who look twenty years younger than them, gluten-free shops in the middle of nowhere and grassy meadows where rare breeds of cattle that you’ve never seen before wander around. This is paradise, which by its very nature is always going to be unaffordable for 90% of the population.
There is however one thing your racist uncle Bob figured out that even happens to annoy me. Your racist uncle Bob stuffs his throat full of red meat and other animal products whenever he gets the opportunity. He is obese, diabetic, his kidneys have failed and he travels around in a mobility scooter, but at some level, he still appears to be full of life. My ancestors have spent generations, surviving through harsh winters during which all the plant life withered away. As much as I would like to believe otherwise, I’m sure this experience has left some sort of genetic imprint on me.
Why do I say this? Well, experimental evidence has simply revealed it to me. I have taken large doses of creatine in the past few days, as a consequence of which I now feel a sense of energy and confidence that has been absent for quite some time. Creatine boosts dopamine levels in your brain. For all practical purposes, creatine is basically cocaine for vegetarians. For what it’s worth, one of the things you’ll notice is that your mind becomes more eager to dominate.
The problem I’m dealing with right now is that at this point I’m increasingly convinced that I would feel healthier and more vital if I ate meat, but I find it difficult to morally justify this to myself. Mussels don’t have a brain, so I feel fine eating them, but I would like to have carnosine, l-carnitine and all the other goodies too. I would like to start eating Twitter blue-checks, but I’m afraid I would leave behind genetic evidence.
And ironically, this is once again where your racist uncle Bob reveals his true wisdom. Your racist uncle Bob doesn’t buy meat in the supermarket, from animals who have never seen sunlight. No, your racist uncle Bob brings his shotgun with him, steps into his pickup truck covered with bumper stickers and drives to the forest. Here he shoots a deer straight through the skull, just like uncle Sam, the Founding Fathers, Captain America and President Trump did before him, as soon as they stepped out of the Mayflower. The animal never noticed that its life came to an end.
Your racist uncle Bob actually reduced the total amount of suffering in the world: He killed an animal that would have died a slow death after being hit by a car, or eaten by a wolf or coyote. He is aware of this, but he doesn’t say it out loud. After all, the supreme virtue is to keep your good deeds secret. Even the Gautama Buddha probably looks down upon your uncle Bob from the sky above without condemning him. In Buddhist tradition, it is acceptable for a monk to eat meat, if he found the animal’s corpse and has no reason to believe it was intentionally killed by humans. Buddhist philosophy is relatively pragmatic in this sense. I suspect that intellectually consistent Buddhists would sympathize with your racist uncle Bob. Your racist uncle Bob risks being killed by prions from contaminated deer meat. Isn’t that noble?
There is however, one thing I have found that heals my mind even more than just some creatine or some N-N-DMT. That is meditation. There are some things that can be addressed with chemicals, but other things must be adressed through actions. I sit in the dark in padmāsana, gradually emptying my mind of thoughts. I embrace the complete emptiness that I experience, it is profoundly healing. In fact, it is a state of consciousness very similar to that experiened with a low dose of N-N-DMT. My advice to everyone is: Unless providence has already blessed you with the presence of a racist uncle Bob at your dinner table, who is simply a Zen sage in disguise, then find yourself a guru.
*If you can’t see the red imprint of your hand on her bum or she’s not crying, then she hasn’t been cured. Try again.