I never jumped on the Tate bandwagon, which was too full of dudebros to accommodate my slender self. While I appreciated some of what he had to say—his forthrightness mostly—I disagreed with the arrogance and misogyny that came in commensurate amounts with his beliefs. Tate’s imaginary, “untouchable” empire seems to be crumbling under the accusations of no less than six female accusers of rape, confinement and human trafficking. One of the accusers comes with damning receipts: actual text messages from Tate displaying some weird blend of remorse and machismo for having “raped her” while stuck in the phrasing of a possessive boyfriend. Are you okay? I know you liked it even though it hurt you—that kind of nasty self-incriminating stuff.
If you thought Tate was a (criminal) mastermind, the sloppiness of his interactions with this woman—and others—paints a rudely corrective picture. But Tate has always been a boorish, sex-mad bull. You can review any number of his podcasts and interviews, and even with the caveat that he’s acting a ‘character,’ the consistency of his behaviour and what we now know of how he built his empire—through being a pimp for OnlyFans girls—indicates his persona borrows more from life than fantasy. When you accept that most, if not all, of what Tate said stemmed from the truth, the picture gets uglier than Dorian Grey’s 100th birthday. Here, have a look at Tate’s business model:
Young men and men who struggle with identity can find far better thought leaders and motivational figures such as Jordan Peterson. Finally, here’s a man who endured the worst of establishment abuse, bounced back from personal ruin and addiction, and who’s often contrite. He continues to try to uplift and inspire his fans. To a lesser extent, Sam Harris, a founding father of the dark intellectual web, once presented himself as a similar icon, albeit opposed to Peterson’s Christian ideologies. Once upon a time, Sam was the voice of atheism. Then Covid hit, and Sam showed us that the (often self-elected) intelligentsia are, due to their presumptions of superiority and criticality, perhaps more susceptible to influence than the common pleb.
Sam’s cerebral collapse started on Triggernometry’s show, where he said the quiet part aloud and claimed that any deceit of the public, however egregious, was morally permissible for the cause of usurping Trump.
“I don’t care what’s in Hunter Biden’s laptop,” Harris had told the hosts of the podcast Triggernometry. “At that point, Hunter Biden literally could have had the corpses of children in his basement. I would not have cared.”
From this point forward, no amount of backpedalling and straw-manning could save Sam’s reputation. Furthermore, and in tune with my attitude to the Covid amnesty crowd like Emily Oster, you are not to be wantonly given the reward of re-acceptance into circles of trust. Not when you haven’t fucking apologized or even realized why you’re wrong. In the instance you believe that Sam’s numerous, blubbering, post-meltdown entreaties have entitled him to amends, have a look at Sam’s latest hot take on Covid—where, like Emily, and the entire expert class, he was wrong on literally every possible scientific assumption about the disease. But that’s okay because he justifies it with doomsday fiction. No, really.
TLDR: “If Covid was way more lethal, killed children and didn’t behave opposite of how I (and the establishment) promulgated it would, then I would be right, and Brett Weinstein would be wrong. In any event, I’m satisfied with myself and ‘doing the right thing.’
Doing the right thing isn’t doing what’s wrong, pretending that it could’ve been right in an alternate universe, then never apologizing for what you’ve done in this timeline on Earth. Pure narcissism and denial. More up is down, Orwellian double-speak. But such is the language of our times. We have a ruling class that pushes safety with interventions and policies that are anything but. We have an influencer class who produce soulless garbage and project scripted performances and media to their followers—a herd that, blessedly, appear to be wisening up to the Davos puppeteers’ hands shoved up their idol’s asses.
Pink and co. turned off all the comments, which tells you what you need to know about the reception—or fear of one—to her shilling.
So we are waking up collectively. Although perhaps alarming, is that going by like count on that post, at least 300,000 people still seem trapped in the psychosis. (I cut off the image so as not to share the IG handles of people I know who are still in the Covidian cult.) How do we wake them? Should you or I even care? Joe Rogan recently argued for compassion since we cannot have a society that continues to fragment. I say let the fragmentation continue. Let the jesters like Pink, Sam and Andrew anoint themselves. Trauma and shameful regret are often the only way for people to learn. We do not learn from kindness. Losing dignity, trust or welfare teaches us lasting lessons.
Let the Winter of Repudiation commence. Bundle up; it will be long, cold and full of terrors.
—C