Reviving The Race of Men
From Great Reset to Great Unfuck
A Photo Unfinish
I was talking with a colleague in California, who was telling me about his brother who is a cold case detective. As part of his line of work, the brother deals regularly with the county coroner.
“Every day, another body,” the coroner recently remarked. “Usually a male between thirty and sixty. No symptoms. No medical history. Nothing. Only thing in common is the jab. Days, weeks, months ago. That’s it. But we’re not allowed to say anything. So we don’t.”
It’s California, and the guy is trying to keep his job. So I won’t say anything either.
And I won’t say anything about a nephew who recently moved to Oklahoma City to take a new job. A week later, he woke up dead. Thirty-one years old. His parents are devastated, but their faith in the vaxx is unshaken. It was just one of those things, they told me. No it wasn’t. But I didn’t say anything to that, either.
Nor will I mention that the funeral home business is booming. Pre-fabbed annexes to house all the bodies are selling like hotcakes.
Where The Bodies Are Buried
Across America, men in their prime are dying off in record numbers. Good news for the patriarchy’s ill-wishers—the only nontoxic masculinity is dead masculinity.
Not so good news when you are looking for a plumber.
Intended or not, America has found in COVID vaccines the Final Solution for her Male Problem. Men, whom her educational, government, legal business, and cultural institutions deeply despise, have gone from being told they are disposable to being quietly disposed of, and quickly forgotten.
Nobody seems to be much bothered by it. Least of all the men, who basically seem to be shrugging it off as just another occupational hazard.
Probably because men’s upbringing, education, and conditioning have drilled into them the reflex to unquestioningly lay down their lives for women and children in the face of danger. Not because, as the Woke would hold, their lives have lower value, but because their sacrifice is of the highest value. And will be remembered, celebrated and memorialized by those they leave behind, as part of the social contract enshrining that sacrifice as the right thing to do.
With COVID, all of that has been thrown out the window.
Men who got the jab as the right thing to do for keeping everyone —including their careers— safe, are getting yanked out of the race in record numbers, without warning, and without the finish line even in sight.
Their survivors are silenced. Their monuments are unmarked graves. Their memorials are recorded on Zoom for later viewing.
And those who remain chase after a normality that recedes further into distance the faster they run, while sirens of war, inflation, invasion, starvation, and privation clearly designed to disorient burst from every high place, flat screen and phone.
This is the Great Reset, where you will own nothing— not even your life— and you will be happy.
And happy we are. While gathering in-person for funerals and retirements is now a thing of the past, there is a palpable sense of relief for those who don’t have to deal with this shit anymore. I was chatting with relatives on the zoom session following the memorial service for an uncle who died in a New York nursing home on January 6:
Thank God he doesn’t have to see this.
Shrinking mortality, denied immortality, suspended morality— no wonder we are either checking out or dropping out in record numbers.
They are calling it the Great Resignation. And it’s taking a toll on the race.
Because men are purpose-built for finish lines, and cannot function without a race for something.
Cancel The Race, Cancel The Culture
Men need finish lines. That’s why they have always followed the sun. Because west is where the finish line is.
And when there is a finish line there is a race.
And where there is a race there is a future.
And where there is a future, there are men… and women who know how to get the most out of those men.
Men must always be in a race toward something, or cease to be a race.
The Great Reset cancels the race by removing that toward something.
And the Great Resignation is men’s response for having nothing to race toward— owning nothing.
They stop trying. They check out— body and/or soul.
While that may be fine with the Woke— a world run by a race of women and defective girls— you get the sense that it all comes down like the North Tower when the grid, the supply chain, and whatever else is holding society together finally gives way.
And when that shit hits the fan, nobody goes looking for a feminist.
Or gives a rat’s ass about your made-up gender and pronouns.
The Spirit of Ginevra
Men in America have forever forged west. And their women have followed. Especially their women. Because people in pursuit of excellence follow the sun.
Take the King family, forever naming their daughters Ginevra while their men forever forged west—Devonshire, Virginia, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, Oklahoma, Idaho, Oregon.
Youngest son Rodger, insisting there must be another way to make a name for oneself, rose from orchard to Oxford, moved back East, where his ambitions as an Ivy League don were ambushed, leaving him to a life of comfortable East Coast obscurity.
His daughter Nevvy, educated at Upper East Side private schools, learned well from daddy’s failure, and headed west for her professional education. She has spent a career in the footsteps of her forefathers, following the sun, picking up awards, winning grants, and granting interviews wherever she goes.
Take their namesake in all of this—Ginevra de’Benci herself— always moving west.
Her image—moving from Florence to Vienna, Liechtenstein, and Washington, DC.
Her spirit, moving from man to man—Leonardo da Vinci, Antonio Vivaldi, Georg Friedrich Handel, Percy Bysshe Shelley, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Leonardo di Caprio—as she inspires them with her wonder.
Water follows gravity. Dreams follow the sun.
Reindeer Games
America has always been a land of opportunity. And now forward-thinkers sense an opportunity in reviving the race of men.
But instead of tapping a market, they are trying to corner it. Take some of the new social media platforms as an example.
Gettr has a great user experience—speed, richness, exposure— but these benefits only fully accrue to the verified. Get the red checkmark, and your megaphone turns to a speakerfarm. You can post videos. Your profile is pushed in front of the masses.
How do you get that red checkmark? Not sure. Collect ten thousand followers. Or bring them from another platform. Or get in line. Right now, it looks like the best bet is to be a friend of former Trump adviser Jason Miller— the lovable teddy bear who runs Getter. Or know someone who is.
Truth Social, launched by DJT and run by Devin Nunes, takes Gettr to the next level. We are hearing it’s amazing, fantastic and beautiful—just like the Wall— from Trump himself. Just getting an account on Trump Truth— like getting a condo in Trump Tower back in the 80’s— is a thing. And where you are on line to get in is everything. Kind of like at a nightclub. The rich, the famous, the connected get in. The rest of us wait. For like a million years. And then the party is over.
Gettr and Truth are for the celebs.
Gab, brought to you by Silicon Valley escapee Andrew Torba, is for the plebes. Clunkier — like a bar— but with far more features. You can start interest groups, post videos, sell your stuff, watch TV, etc. Libertarian-level tolerance—and great community response—typically in minutes.
What’s challenging about Gab is reach. While responses to comments on Gettr come trickling in over weeks, responses to posts on Gab have a half-life of twenty-four hours. Often less. Running ads is expensive (compared to Facebook), and selective. Just because you want to buy ads doesn’t mean Gab is going to run them.
Now these entrepreneurs are free to run their businesses as they see fit. This is America, after all.
But free-speech social media platforms do not revive the race of men. Because all cannot run freely.
These are not races of men, they are reindeer games. Where a few get on the field, and the rest of us get to stand on the sidelines, root loudly, and hope we get tapped to play. Or pay.
The Great Unfuck
The Great Reset cancelled the race of men, consigned us to serfdom, and gave us the Great Resignation.
The Great Resignation demoralized workers, jacked up wages, and gave us the Great Migration from Woke social media to free-speeech platforms.
Migrating us back to the plantation/ cubicle culture of Office Space days, where you could say and think (mostly) what you wanted, and maybe— if you worked real hard or got real lucky— escape, or buy your freedom.
Free speech. But still reindeer games. And not the race of men.
And free speech without your freedom really isn’t free. Just frustration.
Bottom line: no employer, no president, no military intervention, no fly zone, no mandate, no political party, no election, no election audit, no technology, no drug is going to hand you your freedom.
You’re going to have to go there, and take it yourself.
But where to you go, and how do you take it? Especially if you’ve never really had it?
It’s through a journey I’ve come through my own experience to call the Great Unfuck.
Because it starts where you are right now, with what you are enslaved to, and takes you to where it no longer has mastery over you. You are set free, and you know it.
You may answer, “We are Americans and have never been slaves of anyone. How can you say that we shall be set free?”
Very truly I tell you, you are a slave to whomever you bow the knee. You are mastered by whatever memory you continue to replay. You are captive to whatever beautiful attachment you continue to click on.
Those bonds and chains are stronger than anything this world can lay upon you. And when you are free of them, you are truly free. You can feel physically feel it. And nobody can ever take it away from you.
Very truly I tell you, unless a man is unfucked, he can never be free.
What This Is About
The Five Stages of Unfuck tells the story of my own journey over 1,110 days, what I’ve learned, the price I’ve paid, and the freedom and peace I’ve avoided for far too long.
Hopefully by sharing, it will help you get there in a lot less time. I cannot predict what hardships you will face, what beasts you will have to slay, what demons you will have to drive out. Except to say that you will find a way, and you will be a better man (or his woman) for it.
There are five stages, spaces, or wildernesses to cross in this Journey to Unfuck. Each of them of increasing difficulty until you are saying you cannot take this any longer.
It is at that point when you finally see her. And that is when you are set free.
Some of this will be public. Much of it is personal. The personal stuff is just that, and I will share it with those who will support me in taking the time to tell it right.
Please subscribe here for more information, so you will be the first to know.
And we’ll start reviving the race of men, one man at a time.
Harvey Oxenhorn is a cybersecurity consultant, and author of the upcoming book, The Atrocity Algorithm: How the Media Became the Enemy of the People. Follow him on Gettr, Gab, and MeWe @HarveyOxenhorn