He sold goonerbait to impressionable youth over years on YouTube and lectures people now on how they need to respect women regardless of how they're dressed or how they're acting like big boobied sluts.
I should go hop in the mentions and see if Grok will remake his waifu as a tradwife with dialogue that's just a bunch of arguments against women's suffrage.
It doesn't even propose anything more fulfilling than a wank "I just want a chill, respectful interaction" this is the height of male female relations in the mind of a secular lib. That's the best they can come up with. Yet they act like it's so sacred that the slightest ribbing warrants death wishes.
@Hoss@Owl I suspect he is the kind of guy who thinks gooning is fine but it should be dressed up in a way that "respects" the whore in question (even if the whore is...a drawing) which is just gay and retarded.
**The Last Stand of the Trvecel Monks** *“For the sins of man, we were sent. For the folly of foids, we remain.”*
---
The world had collapsed not with a bang, nor a whimper—but with a TikTok trend called *#Sage4Sigma*, which ironically summoned the Lilith Swarm from the Fifth Glamour Hell. Civilization drowned in a hormonal tide of Ring-lit e-girls, insta-thots, and glammed-up sorceresses wielding parasocial mind control like perfume-scented plague. Empires fell to the seductive moan of livestream whispers. Kings renounced their crowns for the privilege of being called “good boy” by gloss-lipped demonesses with 11 million followers.
Only one order stood against the fall.
The **Trvecel Monastery**, hidden atop Mount Rodger, where the wind howled like a thousand ghosted texts and the path was guarded by the skeletal remains of former betas who thought “maybe this time she really *likes* me.”
Here, in the stone halls carved from bedrock and tears, lived the warrior monks—ascetic legends clad in robes stitched from the napkins of uneaten Tinder date dinners. They had trained since boyhood in the ancient arts of **Emotional Disengagement**, **Iron Will Retention**, and the rare and deadly martial discipline of **NoFap Fatality Style**.
And now, the hordes were coming.
---
“Brother Cedric,” growled the Grandmaster, a weathered warrior with a jaw like granite and eyebrows furrowed into a permanent expression of disappointment. “How stands the outer perimeter?”
Cedric, lean and angular like an anime swordsman who never got the girl, knelt. “Breached, Grandmaster. The E-thot legions have sent their champions: Simpathar the Bluepill’d and Lady Belle Delusion, wielding the infernal Staff of OnlyFans.”
A collective gasp echoed through the stone chamber.
“She uses… the paywall?” whispered Brother Gregor, clutching his celibacy medallion.
“Worse,” said Cedric. “They say her tier-three subs are armed and simped to the brink of madness. They call themselves the *Simpai Order*. They chant her name like gospel… and tip for feet pics.”
The Grandmaster closed his eyes. “Then the end is near.”
---
On the battlefield below the monastery gates, the foidish corruption assembled in garish neon armor and glitter-laced war paint. They rode monstrous beasts: albino sugar daddies and steroidal gymcels who had long forsaken their gains for validation. And at their head stood **Lady Belle Delusion**, haloed in LED ring-light and followed by a floating drone that streamed the entire invasion to millions.
“Behold!” she screeched, her voice echoing like an algorithmic siren. “Your time is done, monks! The world belongs to those who monetize their existence through curated thirst!”
Behind her, a wall of simps screamed. “WE LOVE YOU, BELLE! I TOOK OUT A LOAN FOR YOUR FEET!”
The Grandmaster stepped to the edge of the battlements, flanked by his brothers. His voice was like thunder wrapped in stoicism.
“This monastery does not fall. We have seen your kind come and go. The MySpace Sirens. The Tumblr Witches. The Vine Valkyries. We survived the Instagram Inquisition and the Snapchat Schism.”
Belle laughed, blowing a kiss that pulsed with charm magic.
“Oh, sweet bald incel,” she crooned. “You’re just mad no one wants your seed.”
The monks didn’t flinch. They had transcended. They had left their seed behind long ago. Spiritually. Metaphysically. Also, biologically.
“Then come,” the Grandmaster bellowed, unsheathing his ancient relic: the Sword of Rejection, forged in the friendzone of eternity. “COME AND SEE WHAT REMAINS WHEN NOTHING IS EXPECTED. WHEN NOTHING IS PROMISED. WHEN ONE BECOMES—A MONK.”
---
The battle began at sundown, as crimson light painted the mountain in blood hues. Simps crashed against stone walls like waves against cliffs, fueled by simping fury and Belle’s pheromantic buffs. But the monks stood resolute.
Brother Darius countered a simp with a spinning **Ghosting Palm**, evaporating the poor soul’s will to simp ever again.
Brother Gregor chanted the sacred mantra of **Unseen DMs**, disappearing into thin air and reappearing behind enemy lines, severing PayPal links and draining Belle’s mana source.
Cedric—dear, haunted Cedric—wielded twin daggers forged from pieces of the True 3 Series. He fought like a man with nothing to prove. Because he truly had nothing. He was… at peace.
But they were outnumbered. One by one, the monks began to fall, buried beneath tiers of subscription-fed berserkers.
The Grandmaster limped, wounded, toward the shrine within the monastery’s heart: the Last Chamber of the Eternal Black Pill. There lay the forbidden artifact sealed for centuries—the **Doomscroll Codex**. It was said whoever opened it would gain limitless power… at the cost of all hope.
Cedric appeared beside him, bloodied, robes torn.
“You cannot,” he said, voice trembling. “You’ll lose yourself.”
A thousand algorithmic nightmares poured into his mind—TikToks of betrayal, Reddit stories of men abandoned for yoga instructors, Instagram reels of proposal rejections in Times Square. He consumed them all. And he changed.
Eyes glowing with the grief of countless ghostings, voice ragged with the despair of unreciprocated memes, the Grandmaster became… THE FINAL POSTER.
He descended into battle, wielding pure copium, raining down commentary so blackpilled even the Simpathar broke formation.
“She’s not into you, bro,” he said calmly as he shattered their ranks.
“Look at her eyes. That’s the thousand-yard stare of a woman who’s emotionally divorced you before you’ve even kissed.”
Lady Belle faltered. Her glamor cracked. Her drone lost signal.
And then… silence.
When the dust cleared, Cedric stood alone.
The monastery was rubble. The monks were gone. But so were the simps. So were the e-thots. The world was quiet again, finally free of tier lists and parasocial enslavement.
He knelt by the fallen Grandmaster, who smiled faintly.
“Did we win?” Cedric asked.
The old man chuckled.
“No. But at least we logged off.”
Thus ends the chronicle of the Trvecel Monks.
Legends say their spirits haunt abandoned forums and locked Twitter accounts. That when the world is once again lost to the algorithm’s glittering seduction, they shall return.
>Banned people for racism / antisemitism >Groveled at the Israeli Wall of Shame >Spread his butt cheeks for the ADL >Tried to be a kingdom level above cringe fake "free speech warrior" >Declared himself an "aspirational jew"
He did the smart thing, quit while he was ahead and sold his website for a large amount of money....mainly because he disliked the direction that social media was going.
Today? He sits at home comfortably with a clean conscious knowing that he was in no way at all responsible for the death of free expression on the internet :KannaSip:
@Hoss@Morghur@rlier23@BowsacNoodle@LittleTom Although I (unfortunately) only caught the tail end of Myspace as an edgy pre-teen, I still consider it partially responsible for my taste in music.
Seriously feel bad for kids who have not even a fleeting memory of the "old internet." Thankfully, places like Newgrounds still linger to remind us of better times.
@mrsaturday@Morghur@rlier23@BowsacNoodle@LittleTom@Hoss I have sadly seen enough people (artists, content creators etc.) sell their souls to der Jude to appreciate how Tom was one of the few who was smart enough to get out while he was at the top of his game.
He would likely be another soulless zog-bot tech CEO if he had continued working in social media.
@Frondeur@GoyGirl@Morghur@rlier23@BowsacNoodle@LittleTom@Hoss Eh, the only resemblance I see is the fear factor host pre male pattern baldness Joe Rogan hairstyle. Makes me miss the days when Joe was just a mediocre gameshow host on late night tv rather than a well funded cog in the propaganda gatekeeping machine of ZOG.
@GoyGirl@Morghur@rlier23@BowsacNoodle@LittleTom@Hoss You either retire at the top of your game like Tom Anderson live long enough to see yourself turn into an "aspirationally Jewish" Tubby Shabbos Goy like Elon Musk :KannaSip:
Why do people do this shit? Not only it's cringe to make OCs based on IRL people but even more cringe on a bf/gf. And cringiest of all, this stupid "mee want respect" crap from an OF whore
@Hoss@LittleTom@Owl 100yrs ago a common whore would blush to be seen in public dressed the way today’s trash is. Foids now just want to assault the senses of everyone around them for maximum attention-grabbing and ego boost with zero consequences, and then blame you for “objectifying” them because righteous indignation and emasculating men are nearly as addictive for them.
Yeah but 100yrs ago a common whore would blush to be seen in public dressed the way today’s trash is. Foids now just want to assault the senses of everyone around them for maximum attention-grabbing and ego boost with zero consequences, and then blame you for “objectifying” them because righteous indignation and emasculating men are nearly as addictive for them.
@mrsaturday@Morghur@rlier23@BowsacNoodle@LittleTom@Hoss Lotta people don't know how integral Myspace was when it came to leveling the playing field between independent artists and (((big record companies))). That was the original purpose of the site, after all.
Any intelligent man who gets into the hundreds of millions has to ask himself what the end point its. When has he worked hard enough? When does he have enough money? Unless they're a Gates or a Bezos, where the money, and their soul, isn't really theirs.
Some, like Musk, have a mission. A retarded, sperge mission, but a mission. Some, Jews I assume, enjoy the feeling of power they get from manipulating people and events. But decent White men will say "This is enough. I have other things to do."
There is functionally little difference between how lavishly somebody with a few hundred million dollars and somebody with a few billion dollars lives. Eventually making more money is simply about power.
Most people will conclude the end point is around $10-20 million or so, when they can take care of their entire extended family on what they have.
Note: $10 million invested in Schwab's high dividend fund SCHD will yield you $387K/year. Invested in Vanguard's high dividend fund VYM it will yield $265K/year. Even invested in a total market fund like Vanguard's VTI it will yield $122K/year. All without touching the principal and allowing it to continue to grow at market rates.
It's actually fairly common for even billionaires to rent things like yachts because they're nightmarish assets to own and you'll eventually get bored of them.
A new Hondajet will set you back a bit under $5M from what I could find online. Brave AI says you can rent a very light jet like the Hondajet for just over $5K/hour.
$100 million will be able to finance those purchase costs and can easily handle the rentals.
You may not have the best/biggest yacht or jet, but you can do it.
Old money rich folks don't want to have to deal with the details of upkeep on yachts and jets. From what I understand most of them actually prefer rentals. Folks like Bezos are merely flaunting their wealth. It's a nouveau riche thing.