- The Method To My Madness
- Abiding Female Gaslighting Lowers Your Testosterone
- How I Learned Early On in Thailand How It's Done
- Sexy Brain
- What's The Science?
I'm starting slowly, much as I have been in my other series, Permanent Crisis Is The New Normal — Prosper Anyway. One approach to any series of posts is to barrage the readers with favorite and cherry-picked studies, books, interviews, and so forth—by those you've chosen to be your guides, gurus, and authorities.
Similarly, readers arrive with whatever their own baggage consists of in the same vein, and so you begin at some sort of distance of the minds. To solve this in my own eclectic way, I don't read many books at all—the last book I read was in about 2017. I used to read them a lot. Shit, from about 1985-1992, I read hundreds and hundreds—many of the great classics, lots of philosophy going back to the Greeks, and modern treatments of the same, loosely characterized. Then I stopped.
My thing, attitude, or proclivity has always been about how and what people think and how that's evolved. It's never about how to think or what to think, about anything. My research on that was finished in 1992 at the age of 31 and I believed and felt myself wholly competent to always and forevermore think for myself with zero shortcuts.
But I am a voracious consumer of what people are THINKING TODAY, principally by means of published articles, blog posts, and videos. Where that all lacks the polished perfection of the deliberated process of publishing a book, it's nonetheless about today. All books are outdated on publishing day. Accordingly, if you are going to write a book, think a lot about standing tests of time.
I'm going off on a tangent here, but the printing press was invented long ago, and while it did revolutionize the world, it was a snail changing the paths of other snails. Over a long time. I truly appreciate the reverence for that; and who wouldn't want one of those libraries of floor-to-ceiling leather-bound books on fine oakwood shelves—where the space doubles as a cigar-smoking and scotch-drinking refuge with wingback leather chairs in crimson? Still, if you had one of those grand libraries, you wouldn't really need to read any of the books. You've clearly attained the manly art of thinking already.
Who cares what those blokes thought in the context, pressures, and social norms of their times?
That said—and to be conciliatory towards the many lovers of books I know—I wonder how much more of a true thinking and reflective person one could be, for one's self, by dispensing with non-fiction, current-affairs books and just read really good novel literature: Tolstoy, Cervantes, Flaubert, Eliot, Joyce, Dickens, Dostoevsky (OMG), Tolkien, Melville, Fitzgerald, Austin, Steinbeck, Nabokov, Woolf, Caroll, Orwell, Lee, Rand. Yes, I consider Ayn Rand to be a superstar in terms of archetypal characterization. A read of We The Living, The Fountainhead, and Atlas Shrugged is worth a PhD in how truly fucked up most people are, juxtaposed with valliant heros.
The Method To My Madness
It's likely without exception that any dive you do into male testosterone research online marks you for spending lots of bucks for stuff—which makes complete sense if you're not sexually anticipating the next release of Grand Theft Auto from your cum-&-coke-stained sofa in mom's basement. Go off the reservation and every website you open and all the junk mail—thanks to soy-free cookies—will bear ads about the health of your dick.
Wouldn't it be great if, for the price of a $100 monthly auto-ship, your cock is hard via thought-control, your woman is pleasured and satisfied on your whimsical schedule, you never cry at a movie, and you always leave the toilet seat up?