Why Men Make Such Good Slaves

I played a lot of video games when I was a kid.

My favorite games were the ones that had “bosses” you had to kill at the end of each level.

Defeating these bosses was fairly straightforward: you simply observed their fight pattern, then maneuvered within them.

Once you cracked the code and figured out their fight pattern, taking these bosses out was a simple, routine process.

…

Some people want your soul. Some people will happily suck you dry.

But this is the minority.

Most people participate in the enslavement of men completely unaware, cogs in an emasculation machine they don’t even realize exits.

That’s why there’s no “head of the snake:” it’s the de-centralized enslavement of modern men.

Millions of men and women at millions of desks, part of a machine that slowly grinds you to powder.

Here is the three-part “move” the machine makes in perfect response to our male fight pattern—the move it uses to defeat and demoralize us as men:

1. Make us docile by reversing the flow of production.

Production no longer flows from men: it flows TO men.

The machine has made us docile consumers instead of endowed producers and creators.

The machine has ensured that we now TAKE things instead of make things.

This not only makes us greedy and distracted, it also undermines our own sense of agency by recasting us as grovelers dependent on outside agents for happiness and basic function.

One a man is mired in this consumptive docility, it’s time for step two:

2. Fuck us over.

This is where they pluck the fruit from the unguarded tree.

This is where they extract the money, the vote, the attention, the blood, the sweat, the seed.

It’s the moment of harvest for them, and moment of loss and humiliation for you and me.

The docility allows them to take it. But even a docile man won’t let such blatant taking go without a fight.

That’s where step three comes in:

3. Cauterize the wound with impotent rage.

Even a degraded man cannot let a thief come and go uncontested, else he will no longer be able to live with himself.

So the machine devises a brilliant solution: it placates this need by giving us the dignity of rage.

It is, of course, an impotent rage.

But it serves a function: it closes the wound and allows the man who has been robbed to recover a sense of equilibrium and go back to a state of harvestable docility.

“Fucking parasites!” we whine as the machine reaps us.

It feels good to rail. Yet it does nothing but deepen the trench and tighten the chains. For now you are complicit, a part of the game: you are no longer an outside victim, but a pawn with a feel-good role to play.

If millions of men revolted in true, productive anger, the machine would be destroyed.

But just a little bit of anger—in emasculated form—serves as a kind of inoculation that makes the machine stronger.

And so the cycle of enslavement continues:

Docility.

Brazen theft.

Impotent protest.

But here also lies the path of freedom:

Where you are expected to consume, create instead: reject their shitty pre-packaged food and pre-packaged entertainment and cookie-cutter houses and careers and family cultures and create your OWN fucking life.

When they take from you, don’t play into their hands with impotent rage: if their thievery can be stolen back through genuine, productive anger, then steal your shit back.

If it is a battle you cannot win… if the machine has taken at such an institutionalized level that fighting it would land you in prison or waste years of your life in fighting, then let it go. Do not give it a second thought.

Save your hot blood for creating.

It’s the only way out.

The jailer is assured by the wail of the man he whips, but the man who is silent fills him with fear, for that man has not yet been broken, and is thus still capable of escape.