I AM LEGENDJuly 20, 2012
I have just started reading ‘The Game’ by Neil Strauss. Currently i’m quite fascinated with the book. Reading about ‘Mystery’ is quite illuminating.
The book was published in 2005. I have to assume ‘pick up’ was something that was already forming in circles well before the book came out. I am trying to determine a chicken / egg riddle of my own.. whether he discovered it online and practiced/added to it or if he simply figured it out on his own.
Who is he?
I want you to meet a legend. This is a story about a man. And from what i can tell, he figured out game long before the book came out but through the same trial & error process correlating actions of women through their responses and not words. He tried to educate me while i was still plugged into the Matrix popping blue pills like an addict.
This is my brother Chris. This is his story.
I’ve held off publishing this for a while now, it’s been in my drafts getting tweaked every day for the last 3 weeks. I wanted to make sure i got it as good as i could. I hope i did.
Game. Whatever ‘it’ is, he knew what ‘it’ was before ‘it’ had a name. He became an alpha although he didn’t start out naturally as an alpha, he certainly learned how to navigate the fucked up world of the SMP remarkably well.
He wasn’t always game-wise. He grew up very shy and preferred to keep to himself, whereas i enjoyed being the center of attention (until i hit grade 5, started to like girls and got way too shy and became a beta in training) He got teased a lot in high school. Probably due to his long rocker hair and slim frame. Because he wasn’t a jock or preppy kid with a BMW, all the girls were useless. The popular guys were no better. It’s easy to pick on the outsiders. I know.. i had it worse than him during HS. Then again, unless you’re a natural.. high school tends to always suck.
He kept to himself, and learned how to play the guitar. But rock was on it’s way out and rap was on it’s way in. So knowing how to riff Metallica wasn’t making the girls tingle. And his open opinion on the state of music’s decline did not endear himself to the ‘popular’ crowd at school. One day he got beat up for his troubles. He had had enough and said fuck it, and started hitting the gym. His motto.. become as big, bad and sexy as possible so no one could take that away from him. No one would ever make him feel lower than anyone else. No woman would have any power over him. He wanted to make damn sure that his body would never be an excuse for a woman turning him down or lack the physicality to best anyone. Instead he wanted it to be a weapon, to be able to instill desire from across the room, (or fear in other men) and put the onus on women to put out the IOI’s, to which he could freely reject or respond to. He hit the gym and put on the muscle. He studied ju jitsu.
He even went one step further and became a fucking male exotic dancer. The level of balls (pardon the pun) and confidence required to do that was immense. It was probably the most fearful night of his life, but he simply said ‘fuck it’… put on his costume and went up on that stage. Whatever old vestiges of him remained were wiped away.. and NightHeat was born. That was his stage name. Rock’n out with his cock out was his motto! Whether it was as a Cowboy, a Pirate or Barney the Dinosaur, the ladies of the night loved him. His success with them in the deep dark recesses of Sodom & Gomorrah helped fuel his abilities out in daylight combat with the elite snobbery and entitlement class.
If he chose you and you accepted, by god you were a fucking lucky woman. (from his perspective anyways lol)
He had confidence to spare. Charisma not so much, but it didn’t matter to him. He said that having to try to entertain women with conversation and listening to them yap about stupid shit was beneath him. “What am i, a court jester? Summoned only to provide fucking amusement to bitches? Fuck that!” That’s where his Game clashed with MGTOW. His aloofness was enough, but he didn’t require hooks or openers. Here his body language did all the talking, and his lack of want to speak actually got a bigger rise out of them than trying. He told me that the opinions of other people matter not one little bit if you have no respect for them. Why should you care about what anyone else thinks of you, especially if they’re strangers. Who are they? Why do they matter? Why should you care? Every meeting with a new person started with a clean slate, and actions determined whether he put points in the respect pile or in the you are a fucking idiot pile. There was no automatic given for either pile. You simply ended up in that box by your own way of acting towards him. And if you ended up in the idiot pile.. he let you know it right away. You didn’t like him. Oh well, so sad too bad. No skin off his back.
You always knew where you stood with him, he’d tell you the truth to your face and not sugar coat shit. If he didn’t like you, he let you know instead of lying to your face. He hated bullshit fake talk by people pretending to care, pretending to be your friend, smiling through their teeth when he knew they would rather be at home stroking off in a tub of peanut butter. “You’ve known me for 5 minutes and you act like you’ve known me for years? Gimme a fucking break!” He held nothing but contempt for those types. He didn’t need to build an army of faux friends or acquaintances. He hated Facebook and anyone with over 75 friends (unless they were all chicks you were fucking). He hated pretension and falseness.
Truth be told, he was quite a slob around the house and didn’t work too hard looking for jobs. His car was a piece of shit, rusting through, loaded with clothes and stage gear. Water leaked in from the sunroof. I’m sure there was mold in it. Yet he never had issues from the girls who rode in it. He always said ‘They should be so lucky that they even get to ride with me!’ He lived the MGTOW philosophy of only doing what he needed for himself, not the system, not the government, not what society needed from you, and not for any woman’s needs. “I ain’t working for the man!” he’d say. Just enough for him to buy gas, clothes. a gym membership and not work his life away toiling for a greedy corp to get trapped into the work-to-spend-to-work culture of the Matrix. He followed his own endeavors, picked up an AZ/DZ truck license so he could explore and traverse the great routes of the US and Canada and be his own boss. He hated huge snobby, urban, entitled cities like Toronto. He loved the country life where peoples heads aren’t so fucking inflated. That’s why he so loved traveling out west, down south or outside the GTA.“Girls in the city, they’re fucking ego whores. These stupid men in this city hit on them constantly without end, even the ugly ones.. and they think they’re all that! THEY THINK THEY’RE THE SHIT! THEY’RE NOTHING BUT SHIT!” He said country girls were less likely to be ‘infected’. Feminist ideology or STI’s.. take your pic, he probably meant both.
He followed the principles of Gene Simmons (dont get married) which he really tried to warn me about (wish i listened oh well). He always spoke in reverence about Gene.. how he safeguarded his assets, ran a harem with his ‘girlfriends’ blessing or blind eye. “Be like Gene!” he said. He spoke of the golden rule of awesomeness. If a woman doesn’t want to be with you, FUCK’M, it’s their loss. Share your gifts only with those accept your awesomeness on terms you will accept. “If a woman rejects you sexually, she is passing judgement on you. You aren’t GOOD enough for her pussy. Tell her to fuck off and move along to something else.” He was the heart-breaker, the showstopper, the main event! HBK!
He enjoyed his love of what many would call juvenile, puerile time wasters.. such as wrestling. He dressed like them, emulated them. He even went out regularly dressed as the Undertaker or Jeff Hardy. In retrospect i see it for what it was, his own take on Mystery’s peacocking. He never cared what people thought about his look. He wasn’t out to impress anyone and reveled in telling people off who might have disagreed. He also loved his country music. EVERYONE would bug him about his taste in music (and his wearing of cowboy hats) but guess what.. HE DIDN’T FUCKING CARE.. and he still got laid like tile. So take that you fucking cookie cutter salmon pinstriped hipster Nsync wannabe motherfuckers. (I’m sure that’s what he would have said)
Some of the stories of his are legendary. One time he was sleeping with a woman who was separated from her husband (morality does not factor into this. onus was on her, not him, no gun placed to her head, her choice, Chris went along for the ride lol) so he’s fucking her and finishes, when the hubby drives over to ‘talk’ with her. Seeing the car pull in, he puts his pants on, grabs his cowboy hat and heads to the balcony to hide. (2nd floor) Hubby comes in and senses something’s amiss and starts searching the place. No hesitation, Chris JUMPED off the balcony, landed and rolled under the awning. His hat fell off in mid flight. Hearing the husband coming onto the balcony he reached out to grab his hat and tuck it towards him like Indiana Jones grabbing his whip before the stone wall comes down. He said he could hear the movie theme play in his head as soon as he decided to jump. Duh da duh dahhhhh, duh da dahhhhh!
He was a firm believer in equality too! I never got to see this actually happen but a bunch of his friends confirmed this and had me howling as they recalled the story. He was in a seedy club playing pool on one of those coin-op tables. Some drunken broad was hanging around the table pinching him, grabbing him and groping him incessantly. He gave a few verbal warnings for her to stop acting like a dumb fuck. She must have taken this as a cue to escalate because she motioned for him to come over and hug her. As he walked over and brought his arms up, for no apparent reason she tucked her head under his arm and bit him hard in the ribcage (wtf??).
I don’t care how big of a man you think you are, getting bit hard where you get teeth marks left behind in a tender spot is going to register. So while she was biting down on him, he ended up wrapping his arm around her head and proceeded to give her a DDT. Don’t know what that is? You haven’t watched enough wrestling son!
So as he gets up and she’s lying there out cold, some Mangina comes up and knights himself questioning my brother why he did that! “Cuz she fucking bit me!”. Not content with the answer or seeing the bloody toothmarks in his tanktop the man from Camelot asked how he could possibly do that to a woman. “It’s because she’s a woman that i’m not kicking her while shes down right now. Get out of my face!” at which point my brothers friends also came around in a show of force that the white knight and anyone else best step away. He had no issues going tit for tat on assault. Play with fire, burnings likely to ensue. He always said “Women wanted equality so fucking bad, i say let’m have it. Who am i to deny them an eye for an eye.” There’s a moral to the story ladies.. don’t count on your privilege saving you today. You get as good as you give. Even Spock would find it hard to argue logic like that.
What made him great was that he took shit from no one, never lied, lived for what he wanted, strove for and reached every goal he set for himself. He had no inhibitions, and did not follow the eat, shit, breed, sleep principle the rest of mankind sheeplessly follows like programmed lemmings, tho i suppose biology and evolutionary psychology count for some of it. But to put your natural urge to continue the species aside, forgo leaving progeny and cast off societies relentless and maniacal urge to produce more consumers into it’s claws, well that’s one lesson i took from him and am happy to live by. I don’t need to immortalize myself and currently, no woman has yet shown her salt worthy of carrying my genes forward into the future. Not denigrating those who do choose to have kids.. it’s just the ultimate form of evolution to choose to ignore performing your biological imperative.
Yes he had his setbacks. He was cheated on once and took it REALLY hard, because his GF of the time fucked his best friend, so the betrayal ran extra deep. He had a couple runs where he went really dark game. Some could have questioned the standards of the ladies he hung out with, not their looks, but by virtue of his exotic work. But overall he was living life, loving life and showing me the way. All i had to do was follow his lead.
But i was in love, and heading towards engagement, and in full Beta mode swearing off his lifestyle because i was looking for the white picket fence and living into old age with my soul-mate.
There will be no more lessons to learn from Chris. In mid November of 2007 the complaints of his back pain turned out to be the final stages of smouldering Multiple Myeloma. After a quick rush to surgery to remove a massive tumor on his spine he underwent treatment. He always held on to the belief of mind over matter, mental visualization, the power of seeing yourself into good health. And he never let us believe it was getting worse, even as the symptoms did. He made us believe he would beat it. On April 11, 2008 belief fell to cruel reality.
I can only hope when it’s my time, i die with as much dignity as he did.
During those months while he was ill and recovering, my then soon to be fiance was instrumental in helping our family take care of him and support him. She found the time to sit with him and listen to his stories of his legacy he was leaving. Stories he would share with her and no one else. It’s probably the main reason i harbor no hate towards her. Life put her in the right place at the right time for that moment, for my brother. Even tho every time i told him during his illness that i was going to marry her, he would flash a grin and look away saying ‘You knowwwwww Gene would not approooove right?’. I guess he knew it wasn’t going to end well for me.. but he wasn’t going to chastise me for it. Had he not been ill and getting help from her, it would have been a different story for sure.
Chris has no more lessons to teach. But i wanted to leave his legacy here for others to see, for him to still live on and perhaps help guide others onto a path of confidence, doing things for your interests not the entitled expectations of others, and to live a life as your true self, not what others want you to be, not a cookie cutter shit biscuit. You’ll never be happy playing a role, you have to own who you are and live it!
He was a fucking Adonis who managed to live a lifetimes worth of fun, fucking, heartbreaks, open roads, sunshine, adventure and intrigue in those short 35 years. If he lived to be 60, he’d be like that Dos Equis – Most Interesting Man in the World types.
Brothers to the end Jobsquad, ill see you on the flipside!
This ones for you Chris! R.I.P.