Back to work, whore.

Since apparently the new intellectual thing to do is have really banal quotes in their original formulation as a sort of holy amulet to protect you from evil in the sense of signalling your greatness to the barely literate concitadins, allow me to indulge myself :

Motto: Si quis, inquis, dives est, tum cenare potest cum cupit. Si pauper, tum cenare debet cum potest.

The difference between mine and hers would be, of course, that mine's not utterly banal and consequently utterly misunderstood and misapplied. Or that I actually know what it means. Or other things. Go me.

Her who ? This whore : Don't Hate Her Because She's Successfulⁱ. Let's quote :

Love is dying, the system is killing it. The only acceptable portrayal of fulfilled love is with vampires and BDSM billionaires, not because those men are great but because there's no worry you'll meet one, enjoy your little fantasy. Now back to work, whore, you need fulfillment.

I don't know much about vampires, even if I was born in Transylvania. I know a thing or two about BDSM billionaires. Specifically, I know that they exist, and I know that an actual billion is not required.

How do I know all this ? Simply because I'm one.ⁱⁱ

It doesn't take much money to be a BDSM billionaire. You certainly don't need a billion dollars. You probably can't do with less than a million, but then again I wouldn't bet too much on this theory - who knows. In any case, all you really need is a certain outlook, which as best I can determine can only be obtained through blood. That is, other people taking bullets to the head for you. It can't really be taught and it can't really be aquired, if you're the sort that ends up in the kind of situation where people die for you then you're probably possibly going to end up as a "BDSM billionaire", or in other words the only kind of man with which a woman can have fulfilling amorous congress.

This used to be a lot more common not so long ago because of the Menschkeit model of camaraderie promoted by the Prussian military school. Pretty much any man that made it through the war and came back home would be one such "BDSM billionaire" simply through the working of the trenches. Pretty much every man had the chance to go play in the artillery shell holes, so in the end the world was full of them, and consequently full of satisfied, sated women, and art, and good stories, and all the rest of that stuff.

Nowadays the world is full of garbage. Seriously, look around you. Identify the one item that's not garbage. Do you even have a working definition for what "not garbage" would be ? Let us try together : something that your grandchildren would find just as useful as you do. Go fish for it now, I'm curious if in the multiple tons of garbage you swim a lifetime through you've got anything worth the mention. Let me know.

A world full of garbage is not particularly acute at any point, which means it's never going to be fulfilling in any case. The reason for this impasse is that men have recently started to take women at their wordⁱⁱⁱ, which is about as stupidly misguided as the reverse.

And so here we are, a society can only be dedicated to the advancement of people or to the creation of items. Either gore or garbage, there's not really much chance of mixing them. Athens or Sparta, there's not really any middle ground.

Of course just as there's not really any middle ground there's not really any stability, either. Athens is certainly past its current samt ar-ra's and Mars is rising quite red on the horizon. Soon enough we'll have a paradigm shift, and the nuns^iv of this world will be free to go write about garbage instead of whoredom, as it'll become increasingly rare and thus increasingly fascinating and thus increasingly exploitable.

Increasingly fulfilling, if you're the sort that can't fulfill themselves in the world (because BDSM billionaires are motherfucking scary, because your intellect is overactive and vagina sandy, the combo resulting in goyaesque imagery haunting you into a metaphorical corner).

Meanwhile life goes, of course, on. Somewhere else.

1. If you're going to be discussing technicalities on the level of "she's not a whore, she's a woman" please step aside. [↩]
2. And amusingly enough, one of the girls' significant other at the time she started saving to gtfo out of her bullshit-yet-typical American existence notably was convinced that I own a golden helicopter. For the record I do not, never have, don't intend to get one either. Heck, I don't even drive. [↩]
3. I was discussing my recent Rape is fun, or let’s fuck up Adria Richards with a self-identified "manly" friend, who told me that's the wrong approach, and let me quote,

   This is an intellectual debate. If she wins this debate, men will be further castigated and punished in the workplace for jokes.

   Here's the thing : it's not a debate, and it's not intellectual. It's a challenge, and it's quite sexual. Misconstruing a challenge as a debate and the sexual as intellectual is exactly how you end up talking forever to chicks that never get on their knees to worship that little bit they miss by design. Not for you and not yours, in any case. They're saving themselves for BDSM Billionaire Jesus on a stick, and if you think about it a moment you can't really blame them. [↩]

4. By which word we mean, of course, the intellectuals, even if it is, of course, a broken synonim for whore. [↩]