You Are Not Safe Here
This is a site for me to speak my mind without feeling obligated to censor myself for the comfort of others. Something I’ve written on this page is sure to offend you, no matter what you believe in. It’s my safe space, not yours. Remain at your own risk.
Table of Contents
- Terms of Disservice
- Advertising Policy
- Diary of a Madman
I’m not willing to provide my real name here. If you insist on a name, call me Jack Cambion. I’m one of those Morlocks who work in the tech industry.
EIGENSCHWARZ exists because I’m not willing to submit to moderation just so I can exercise basic human rights like freedom of expression. It’s an online journal for me to comment on things I find on the internet without bothering other people, shitting on their cozy groupthink, or violating the sort of codes of conduct that the FIRE would denounce as “speech codes” if implemented at a college or university.
The name comes from an alias I was using on Alexis Ohanian’s Groupthink Incubator before I found enlightenment. I might still be shouting into the void from here, but at least I’m paying the cost to be the boss.
The site is currently made from a single Emacs Org Mode file and pushed to my host with rsync. There’s no RSS feed, and none of the content has a “permalink” for sharing. If this makes no sense to you, it’s your own damn fault for being an ignorant fucking Eloi.
Contact info is at the bottom of the page. Email me at your own risk.
Terms of Disservice
I use profanity, indulge in blasphemy, engage in what many people might consider hate speech, and share pornography here. I accept no responsibility for your safety or your delicate sensibilities. If your children visit this site and see something you’d rather they didn’t, that’s your problem.
If any of the above offends you, don’t visit this website. The back button is there for a reason. Learn to use it.
I don’t collect any data. My hosting provider collects HTTP server logs.
External content embedded in this site may attempt to set cookies, but I accept no responsibility for external content, if you’re still allowing third-party cookies you deserve to be spied upon.
This is a personal website, not a billboard. There is no advertising here. There will never be any advertising here as long as I control this domain. If you email me to ask me to host your ads/native content/SEO links I will reproduce the email with headers here and mock you.
If you work in marketing or advertising, here’s some advice: kill yourself.
Diary of a Madman
This is your last chance to back out if you aren’t willing to risk being offended.
This Looks Like Fun
My wife showed me this pic while we were fooling around before lunch. I wouldn’t mind being either of these guys as long as she’s there to encourage me. It’s not gay if it’s for her.
Seen on IRC
You think a date’s going well, but then they lean in close. As their lips brush your ear, making you shiver with desire, you hear the one word that ruins everything: “ivermectin”.
Instead of trying to build up an American-style professional military in Afghanistan, maybe we should have trained women to murder their husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons in their sleep if they were involved with the Taliban or expressed pro-Taliban sentiments? You know, since we couldn’t do the smart thing and not fuck with Afghanistan.
Erik Hoel: “Futurists Have Their Heads in the Clouds”
That’s rather charitable; I suspect most of them have their heads up their own assholes. However, he has some predictions of his own. The stuff about polyamory sounds like something straight out of Heinlein, and I doubt I’d get to be part of a throuple come 2050, but his predictions about VR addiction remind me of a far less successful sf novel than most of Heinlein’s work: The Unincorporated Man by Dani Kollin and Eytan Kollin. The backstory for that novel includes a “VR plague” where society and the economy collapsed so hard that human extinction seemed likely because people decided their electronic power fantasies were more meaningful than life in the real world.
Does Therapy Work For Men?
Somebody on r/menslib asks this question, and I’m not convinced most talk therapy actually works for men. I think it was invented mainly by men treating women, and the treatment worked for women because they were actually having somebody listen to and validate them. I suspect that in many cases they’ve never experienced that before.
Then again, I doubt most men get listened to or validated. We’re not used to having our feelings matter; we’re used to hearing that our feelings don’t matter to others and shouldn’t even matter to us. Conventional talk therapy doesn’t adequately deal with the psychological damage men suffer in the process of being socialized as men.
Then again, most advice from feminists and mens lib types about how men should deal with men’s issues boils down to “be more feminine”. It’s not bad advice in moderation, but it often gets treated as a panacea.
Is the Thought of an Incel a Real Thought?
I don’t believe incels are real. I think that men who call themselves incels could get laid if they got their shit together, became more realistic about their prospects, and stopped insisting that they deserved the adoring lust of female supermodels. These boys need to learn to swallow their pride—and maybe they should swallow each other’s semen, too. If they aren’t willing to try homosexuality, they aren’t really incels; they’re just choosy beggars.
Legend: From the Fjords
The first track on Eternal Champion’s Parallel of Death EP is a cover of a song by a long-defunct band called Legend. This band only released one album in 1979: From the Fjords, but fell apart after the death of vocalist Kevin Nugent in 1983. Half of the album’s eight tracks were epic heavy metal, and the rest were proggy rock. These guys were doing Viking metal before Viking metal was ever a thing. You can listen to the full album on YouTube.
Hounded by Miyuli
This looks like a fun porn comic to show my wife. An inexperienced warlock’s first summoning goes wrong in all the right ways.
Don’t believe anything you see on TV.
Don’t believe anything you see on the internet.
Don’t believe anything you read in the newspaper.
Don’t believe women.
Don’t believe men.
Don’t believe liberals.
Don’t believe conservatives.
Don’t believe anybody who would profit in some way from your credulity.
Trust no one.
Believe no one.
Refuse to care about anything irrelevant to your own personal concerns.
And don’t believe me, either.
Turnabout Is Fair Play
I guess this is one way to keep your partner from distracting you in the kitchen. Not that I mind my wife grabbing my ass while I do the dishes—or reaching around to grab my cock.
Abusing the Well-Being Subsidy
My day job offers a “well-being subsidy” where you can get reimbursed if you use your company-issue credit card to buy shit like massages, gym memberships, etc.
I suppose that if I was single and frequented establishments where massages ended with handjobs I could get my rocks off on the company dime as long as nobody looks too closely. I’d rather use the subsidy to buy heavy metal albums. Not sure I could justify them as motivational audio or sound therapy.
I doubt I could sell Death’s The Sound of Perseverance as either, for example. So I’ll just ignore it since I can get massages and handjobs at home and gym memberships are a fucking con.
Gonna show this to my wife later. I bet she’d like the art style.