When Momma Ain’t Happy

The following is a transcript of my recent talk on YouTube. The video version is embedded below. PE

We’ve all heard it before. When Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. It’s an interesting observation that says a lot about the world of men and women, a term undoubtedly coined for its accuracy. And it speaks to one amazingly simple but very dark reality. When women are upset, society considers it normal for them to make the people around them suffer. Take exception to me for saying that if you please. I’ll just refer you back to the term that our society coined. You can argue with it if you want to.

In the closer look, and we like closer looks around here, “When momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy,” implies that the unhappiness will be visited on the family. We are talking about mothers here, the female authority in the family. And when the authorities aren’t happy, their wrath isn’t limited to the man of the house. The children are often also in the line of fire.

And it is not just that we recognize the problem in woman as mothers. “Happy wife, happy life,” ring a bell? Of course, it does. You’ve heard countless blue pill simps utter these words like there was a pull cord in the back of their neck, almost always when there’s a woman in earshot. Once again, I put the term’s literal meaning into non coined verbiage that says the same thing. Happy wife, happy life, implies that any unhappiness a woman experiences in life will result in punishment for her husband or boyfriend. It will result in his life being an unhappy one. Not because he is disturbed by seeing her unhappy, but because his woman sees her bad feelings in life as a license to turn him into her personal emotional garbage can. It would be enough to make you angry at women if you weren’t so aware that these are the values our society instills in them from birth.

This is just part of the social contract that the western world drafted for men and women eons ago. Like it or not, these are rules implied by default in all human pair bonding. If you want that to be different in your life, it most likely means you have to pretty much create a new contract from scratch, and then teach any possible love interests to read Greek.

Meanwhile, this blue pill arrangement forms a baseline condition of constant, unaddressed relationship stress. It’s a lifestyle for many men of swallowed pride, stuffed anger and walking on eggshells. These men, which I argue are most men in monogamous relationships, maintain a hypervigilant existence, constantly monitoring their woman’s moods, which can swing like Duke Ellington. They are driven to live in and accept this kind of relationship hell because their whole lives they’ve been told the same thing women have; that this is normal. It just comes with the territory. Better to keep her happy, even if it doesn’t appear possible. Happy wife, happy life! Sheesh. Is it any wonder women outlive us?

Just take a moment to consider these guidelines, these dysfunctional expectations, which are so commonly accepted we coin terms about them.

And as I see things through my personal red pill lens, the only thing worse than these perverted rules are the men who abide by them religiously. They turn personal humiliation into a source of pride. Perhaps it’s the only way they can live with themselves. By leaning into the pathetic delusion. They preen and boast of their subservience. They speak at once with the tone of quislings seeking the approval of their betters, and as though they possess some form of special wisdom reserved for men just like them. No woman of theirs, by god, will ever be uncomfortable for a moment, no sir. That’s their ethos and they are giddy with self-approval over it. In some sick corner of their twisted little minds, they believe that failure to make a woman happy should, at the very least, result in emotional and psychological abuse. It’s a strange, and I think disturbing thing to brag about, especially when watching these men model this vomit-worthy simping in front of their children.

And to me, this is, to the very core what being red pilled is about, at least as red pills apply to relationships. Red pills are the rejection of toxic femininity and all the dysfunctional mandates that come with it. It may sound simple, but it’s a subject so dangerous to discuss that the only way most people can cope with it is to treat it with humor.

They laugh instead of crying, and instead of pushing back, and instead of challenging mothers to expect better of themselves than to abuse the very people whom they claim to love most. They laugh because dealing with the problem honestly would prompt more of what they fear most: women’s abusive wrath.

So, they opt to handle all toxically feminine characteristics the same way. By going full on simp, or by putting their heads in the sand. And as funny as they look in that position, they don’t seem to notice that their asses are exposed.

I’ve referred here to mothers here as authority figures in the family. I wasn’t implying that they were THE authority figures, but even in families with extraordinarily strong male figures, women still have a great deal of authority in the home as mother’s and/or spouses. It would be of great benefit to a lot more families if they wielded that authority less recklessly. Getting there, however, is a formidable challenge in a society that values toxicity in wives and mothers and never holds them to any meaningful moral restraint. That doesn’t just embolden bad women, it convinces them their abuses are righteous.

Most men will never raise their voice about that, though. They are too busy walking on eggshells and sticking their heads in the sand. When they get the ass-plowing they’re inviting into their lives, they just shove their heads in deeper, muffling their cries of anguish; a limp, tears in the pillow buttfuck in front of the entire world.

Then, when it all comes crashing down, some of them email me with a story I’ve heard 10,000 times, demanding I drop everything I am doing and dedicate my life to fighting for their case. I digress a bit with that, but it still speaks to the point. It is the weakness of men that enables this bullshit.

All this goes on, day after day, decade after decade, because men value women more than they value themselves. Scratch that. More than they value anything and everything. And because so many women are more than content to enjoy that kind of tyrannical power in life.

I find it amusing, in a twisted kind of way, that we have such a robust, widely accepted narrative of women as powerless; as oppressed, as victims. That narrative is a complete lie, of course, joining the ranks of all the other lies that the masses accept as truth about women.

Women wield enormous power, especially in the family. Power over men. Power over children. And I am not even talking about the undue power the state gives them. Women have, directly because of the interpersonal power men put in their hands, the sole ability to make or break most any relationship. The fact that they lean so hard toward using that power destructively is the topic for another talk.

Suffice it to say for now though, that the onus on this, as it always does, comes back to men. Why? Because men have great power, too. Expansive, sweeping power. Power that eclipses the power of exploitive, blue pill femininity a thousand-fold. They’ve just been trained to abstain from using it. Or shamed, rather, to use the correct verb.

And this is where our two terms pointing to women’s abusive control of relationships can serve a larger purpose. Viewed through the red pill lens, these are not just cutesy figures of speech designed to elicit knowing, acquiescent chuckles from a society that pedestalizes abusive women. These two terms, and the inferences we can be drawn from them, are a sterling opportunity for screening out female losers quickly and efficiently.

If you are one of the scores of red pill men out there still interested some form of long-term relationships, this is an area of great opportunity. For in the end, isn’t it true that you’d prefer a woman who is able to not only see the sickness these terms represent in affairs between the sexes, but one who is disinclined to embrace that sickness? Or, and I should make no bones about saying this, a woman who can be trained to reject the mentality that accepts such a twisted social contract?

I submit to you, dear listener, that her inclination to get on the same page as you about this matter can be sorted out in short order. Ask her what she thinks about the terms when momma ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy, and happy wife, happy life. Listen to what she says, carefully, and then let her know that you see this as evidence of a society that normalizes female abusiveness, and then listen to her again, even more carefully. Press her for thoughtful answers, politely challenge her thinking where indicated. And again, listen to her. Listen, listen, listen. She will, whether she knows it or not, be telling you everything about her you need to know.

Importantly, inform her that you see these things as the sick rules they are, and that when it comes to living by them you are not that guy. Heck, have her listen to this talk. Indeed, I heartily suggest, with a complete lack of humility, that my work is the definitive screening tool for whether a woman may be worth investing in to begin with. Start with the Red Pill movie and then send her to my talks.

And of course, this kind screening will weed out 95+% of your candidates, or roughly the same percentage of women not worth any investment anyway. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.

The point is that if you’re red pill, and you want a relationship with a woman, then there is no way to avoid putting these topics on the table for full examination. You have the choice, though, to get it all on the table early, and have it present itself in measured, thoughtful conversation, or later on when it comes out behaviorally, which I do not suggest is a productive path.

Here’s the rub. It is undeniable that this you go girl society enables, condones and encourages abusive female control. It is as obvious as stretch marks at slut walk. Yet because of gynocentrism, 95+% of women, and men for that matter, won’t be able to see it, ever, no matter what you do. The remaining 5% will only be able to grasp the truth with the help of a mentor.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, isn’t just to be that mentor but to first figure out whether the woman you’re interested in is teachable. You just have to be aware enough to discern that and based enough to gleefully 86 all non-hackers.

And that part is easy, too, even if your dick tells you it’s a bad idea. Women who passionately, emotionally object to my material are women you can never trust. They are women who want to live by these destructive, sick, terminally dysfunctional rules.

It is easy for me to picture it happening. You settle into the sofa with the woman of your interest to hear some red pill content, and shortly thereafter she is on her feet, informing you that if you buy all this hatred of women when there is, of course, none there, well then, you can just forget about her.

Listen up, men. This isn’t a good woman, offended by actual misogyny. She’s just another woman on the hostile defensive because she has been called out on her own bullshit. Her ultimatum is informing you that she has no use for a man she can’t punish into subservience, just like the world has told her all her life that she can do.

And of course, if you know that and choose to stick around, be my guest. I never pretend to tell another man how to live his life. Just don’t hit my inbox with the expectation that it will matter to me when she turns your life upside down. It won’t.

I mean, seriously, if we, as men, don’t own this shit in life, it will own us. And it does own most men. As for me, I rather like my life rejecting these rules with extreme prejudice. For some odd reason, it makes me like what I see in the mirror a lot more than I did when I used to worry about what made mama unhappy.

And that is it for this talk, gents. As always, I hope you’ve enjoyed, even if you haven’t, and we’ll see you next time.

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