I discovered something recently that I didn't really want or care to know. The BDSM crowd rather dislikes the Fifty Shades books because they find them, "touristy."
But it's a tourist industry that is doing great business.
Maya Banks writes romance novels and she makes a decent living at it. I admire her ability to reliably deliver her books to her publisher on time as contracted for. She started with historical bodice rippers with a Scottish Highlands bent. Then when that market shifted she moved to thriller romances. Her KGI books are kind of like Tom Clancy books but with better porn. And again she made major bank. I doesn't matter what you think of her novels, you can't say the woman doesn't know her market.
Here is a cover from her latest series of books.
It's called the Enforcers Series
and no, there aren't any cops in it.
Where did this new market come from, seemingly over night?
The answer of course is that it came from radical feminism.
These SJWs, the radical feminists who spend their lives fighting the Patriarchy? They come to my clubs to be beaten senseless on crosses, chained to them by men dressed in uniforms very reminiscent of the Nazis. Yes, it’s a thing, as anybody who has ever been to a Goth club can attest. They demand to be tied up, burned, bruised, and battered.
Go on social media, and you will see SJWs telling us that Nazis are everywhere, that they are evil, and foul, and legion. They are in the White House, they are on Youtube, they are on Twitter, they are in Video Games. Nazis, everywhere. And so they march out into the streets, the Black Bloc, Antifascists engaging in what Tom Kratman calls a bit of political theater (not unlike Fascists once did).
But at the end of a long week of fighting the cisnormative heteropatriarchy, they come to be beaten by men dressed as Nazis, to the gritty beats of loud Industrial music in the depths of an Industrial park.
And what’s more, RadFems have come to resemble these very same Cenobites, covered in piercings, dyes, and tattoos, such that the difference between Hellraiser’s Pinhead and the average denizen of Slut Walk is minimal at best. And then they say “I’m a slut, but that doesn’t mean I consent.”
Then, off they go to have simulated rape, to cry “yes Daddy” to the men they hate, after a day of fighting the Patriarchy in the streets.
Now they will say there is a difference, that it’s all okay because they consented to it. They came to the club. They asked for it. And it is true, to some extent. There are rules in such communities. But why, if you hated a thing so much would you come to love its reflection so deeply?
There is something deep here, some psychological damage present in the West, such that we, as an entire civilization, have lost the ability to take pleasure in anything, and have merely exchanged pleasure for pain in everything we do. Pleasure has lost its novelty. We are like Slaanesh in the Warhammer 40k world.
Where once we celebrated achievement, putting a man on the moon, inventing, building, and learning… now we celebrate victimhood in a form of emotional sadomasochism. Everything is about being made to feel bad. Imagine coming to work in the morning, chugging your cup of coffee, seeing a friend and saying “hey, how’s it going?” Said friend responds cheerfully and happily, “oh, it’s been going horrible, I got run over by a bus, and discriminated against by HR, catcalled by a thug, and my house burned down then got sucked into a tornado! How’s it with you?”
It’s almost that ridiculous.
If you walked on the moon, check your privilege, because I’m a bigger victim than you. If you cured AIDS, fuck you, you were privileged because you’re white, or have a penis. They will say things like, oh you want to know what challenge is, Mr. Quantum Physicist? Challenge is trying to make it in STEM when you’re mentally ill, bipolar, on meds, when you’re a genderqueer black Hispanic Muslim lesbian from Somalia. Who got sucked into a tornado.
Forget curing cancer, cure racism, they say.
And then they, too, go to the club and get beaten by the guys with floggers and chains. Business has never been better, let me tell you.
I see it everywhere. I see women spurning “lesser” men, finding the most intimidating, scarred, barbaric thug on the dance floor and making out with him all night, and it hits me. I see barbaric men starting fights over stupid shit, and everybody drinking until they can’t see or walk straight, filing out of the club at 3AM to try and crawl their way home. This is our entire civilization right now. These people are in power, and are doing on a meta level exactly the same sort of thing I see from my DJ booth.
They scoured the world for the most barbaric and twisted belief systems they could possibly find, and said “come to our home. Beat us. Be our Nazis.” Islam, certainly, can do that well enough. It is more than willing. And so they come, hordes of men mostly (why bring the women and children in such a circumstance?).
The Cenobites are at the helm of our civilization, and they solved the Lament Configuration, and are taking us to the dimension where pleasure and pain are meaningless distinctions. Choke me, hit me, tie me to a cross and stone me to death, Islam. Kill me in the streets.
Then they can be a better victim, to achieve even less than they do now, to achieve negative achievement, to actually rollback civilization, to be nothing more than burka-clad objects, who can’t read, or write, or drive an automobile.
These RadFems don’t want less Patriarchy, they want more Patriarchy. They don’t want less Nazis, they want more Nazis. A civilization full of weak-minded fools has broken them, somehow. Deprived of any form of constructive masculinity, people have gone out to seek it among the barbarians. Better a Mohammed than a boy-man who thinks his gender is an Oscar Meyer wiener. You could sell them to a Saudi prince as a sex slave, and they’d experience true joy.