It’s All So Tiresome:
Cypher, Ramzpaul, & the Purple Pill

2,486 words

I’m tired, Trinity. I’m tired of this war, tired of fighting, tired of this ship, being cold, and eating the same goddamn goop every day. But most of all, I’m tired of that jackoff Morpheus and all of his bullshit.

— Cypher

There was a time in my life where I wore a black leather trenchcoat and sunglasses every day of the week. Even in summer. Especially in summer. It’s easy to wear a black leather trenchcoat when the wind blows high, but only true believers will wear this garment under the searing Mediterranean sun. Some things you do, despite being stupid and counterproductive, to signal something. In my case, I was signaling my adherence to the aesthetics of The Matrix.

We get the term “redpill” from The Matrix. It is enculturated enough that anyone who uses the term but then feels the need to explain that it comes from The Matrix sounds like an old man. It feels like reading a newspaper article about the internet in 1997. To become redpilled, to be a red pill, means to emerge from a manufactured reality and become aware of a different, higher-order reality. A darker reality. A reality which, frankly, seems to be evil.

We refer to the Matrix, or to the shared delusion of our time, as a dream state. Lemme tell you something about dreams — nobody likes to be awakened from them. Just last night, three beautiful women with wide, child-bearing hips were singing merry songs about my sexual prowess, and then in an instant — sunlight, a full bladder, and a noseful of my own morning breath. Sure, there are the ones where you’re naked in school, falling, or where you are being chased by an indeterminate, threatening something, but overall, dreams are nice and reality stinks.

When serious thinkers analyze The Matrix, they rarely mention Cypher. Masterfully portrayed by Joe Pantoliano, Cypher is the guy who’s taken the red pill, but hates himself and Morpheus, who gave him the choice for it. Now, we’re obviously supposed to hate Cypher for betraying his people and for choosing ignorance over the truth, but let’s not pretend that he doesn’t present a very compelling case for the blue pill. As Morpheus says to Neo before Neo is about to take the red pill: “All I offer is the truth.” The truth, as is often said, hurts. But everyone assumes that once you learn the truth, you can’t unlearn it.

People feel malaise at the world because they understand that it is a lie, that it is inauthentic. That a movie like The Matrix was produced, became enormously popular, and has greatly influenced culture and language is a testament to that fact. Even normies feel that something is off, that this is not how it was supposed to be, that they were somehow lied to, betrayed, that things are not as they appear. And thus, we have a demand for red pills.

But as we said, the truth hurts. Furthermore, success in any society depends upon pointing deer and making horse ^[1]. In order to demonstrate compliance with the ruling ideology, you have to say and do very stupid and counterproductive things — some even stupider and less productive than wearing a black leather trenchcoat in the middle of summer. But fear not. The marketplace of ideas has come up with The Purple Pill™, which both addresses your malaise at having to live in the shared delusion we call the official narrative and defends against the existential pain and social leprosy which are known side effects of the red pill. Enter the alt-lite.

Bear in mind that I’m not accusing any of these people of being controlled opposition, federal agents, or paid shills. No, they are successful and their product exists because their product is superior to ours. I’m selling red pills, which means you get to feel small and powerless in a world that hates you and wants you dead, and if there is to be victory, it will come at incomprehensible costs, so far into the future that even the young bloods among us will only taste it as old men. This is all assuming we don’t lose and suffer the repercussions of standing against the prevailing orthodoxy. Dissent isn’t fun if you’re a real rebel. Contrast that to what a guy like Cernovich or McInnes is selling: you get to be the cool bad-boy rebel, but at the same time be relatively within the Overton window and thus escape more serious repercussions. Well, Cerno and McInnes can escape repercussions. The Proud Boys won’t. But that’s a tale for another day.

You know what’s even cooler about the purple pill? It gives you a very clear friend/enemy distinction; it makes all problems solvable by increased coordination and effort (which also gives you a secret weapon in the internal fights — failures can be blamed on the egotism or laziness of your compatriots). In fact, stopping to think if you’re fighting the right fight is very counterproductive — winners have no self-doubt. ^[2]Usually, I link to an article where I already made my point to keep newcomers abreast of the older ideas, but this time I want you to read the comments. One guy asks me that if we can’t win by losing, and that we will inevitably lose by winning, then what the hell do we do? You’ll notice that I haven’t responded. It’s because I have no idea. All I can truly offer you is either the truth, or my honest uncertainty.

“But once we’ve redpilled the normies,” you say to me. Well, ok, we redpilled them. Cypher was also redpilled and then he was so disturbed by the reality of the red pill that he ran to the Agents and betrayed his friends in the hope of getting his memory erased and getting plugged back into the Matrix. So, how are you gonna keep them redpilled, especially when the red pill may as well paint a gigantic target on their backs, and we don’t have the resources to protect them? And don’t forget that a man can very easily forget things he knew, even things central to his old worldview, if it is beneficial to him. Especially if it’s psychologically beneficial to him. Money is meaningless, but respite from the psychic pain of being a dissident loser? That has a hell of a lot more value than mere dollars and cents.

Enter Ramzpaul.

The whole drama with Ramzpaul began with the corona lockdown. He was against it. He fought with Tiina Wiik, his Happy Homelands co-host, over it. At the same time, he blocked the Scandza Forum on Twitter because they were “white supremacists.” And then he engaged in a campaign to equate measures against corona-chan to soyboy snowflakeism. And then he retooled his Happy Homelands show by taking on fellow lockdown opponent Styxhexenhammer666 as a co-host. And then he invited Milo Yiannopoulos. Milo ghosted him, apparently because he and his entire “family” were sick (but Corona-chan ain’t real, folks). Then he had Laura Loomer on. Then he had Gavin McInnes on. Do you see where this is going?

Being a young white man, I have no particular attachment to the economy. In fact, while it is not 100% correct to call the economy a massive con job run by the old, nonwhites, and women on young white men, it is a good enough heuristic, and living your life as if it were true is a good way to extricate yourself from modernity. In fact, “crashing the economy” sounds like a pretty good deal to me. Now, some of the older white guys, specifically of Ramzpaul’s generation, were grandfathered in and have a stake in the economy. Naturally, they feel disgusted and horrified that the young bloods no longer want to be chumps.

I was never that scared of Corona-chan, either. Believe you me, reader, I know my way around rowdy oriental women (hint: they find black leather trenchcoats irresistible). One of the side effects of the red pill is that you might get denounced by your family and friends for daring to claim that the horse is a horse. Sometimes, they denounce you bad enough that you are eerily ambivalent about whether Corona-chan decides to whisk them away to the other place. And then you hate yourself for it and have another whiskey, for tomorrow we shall do it all over again.

But here, I’d direct you to the Z man of the Z blog who has likewise expressed skepticism towards the wisdom of the lockdown but without losing his mind. Z has problems of his own — failing to appreciate just how little “the economy” means to young white men — but at least he doesn’t debase himself by nodding inanely as Gavin “I french-kissed Milo and stuck a dildo up my ass to show I’m not homophobic” McInnes denounces Nazis (who are secretly all Feds) and proclaims his undying love for Israel. Skepticism of the measures our government takes to fight Corona-chan is valid. Skepticism of Corona-chan’s lethality is valid. Going full alt-lite isn’t.

In fact, here we see the core difference between alt-lite and Dissident Right. What are we fighting for? Our people? Or our Freedumbz™? More importantly, who’s the enemy? A Satanic pedophile globalist cult run by Hillary Clinton, George Soros and Bill Gates, which may or may not include Jews qua Jews; or a distributed, decentralized coalition of minor interest groups (one of whom may be Jews qua Jews) each trying to get a handle on the greasy levers of power, in which groups compete against each other but can cooperate to undermine anyone trying to insert sanity into the system, most members of the coalition unaware or only partially aware of the existence of the coalition or their membership in it? I think you can figure out which form of the enemy is easier to contend with, and therefore, more amenable to packaging in the purple pill.

Corona-chan doesn’t have to steal your Freedumbz™. Globohomo has already taken everything of consequence from you. 2nd Amendment guys like to beat their chests about how they’ll use their guns to protect what is theirs, but far more important for military success than guns is social organization. And you don’t have the right to organize the way you choose to. The Civil Rights Act took away the freedom of association, and with it, the makings of a militia capable of protecting anything. When you have no organization, your guns count for nothing. All you can really do is play “Fortunate Son” as the government burns your house to the ground, Waco-style. But five unarmed men with a functioning organizational structure and clear friend-enemy distinction? There’s no end to the damage they can do to globohomo.

And what of your freedom to go out and work? That’s a freedom? People are empowered and ennobled by toiling away, building someone else’s dream? Give me a break. ^[4] Globohomo wants you working, white man. You have to toil in the fields so that fat POC women can have 10 children by 15 different fathers. You have to sit in a stuffy office, bent over a desk, so that the hens in HR can have someone to torment and get paid to do it. You have to address stuffed shirts as “sir” because some obese boomer needs his Social Security, retirement stonks package, or whatever. Globohomo also wants your wife working, and not giving birth to white babies, cooking meals for the family, and turning the house into a home.

But this is not about truth. It’s about packaging a compelling narrative which eases the malaise of living in the simulated reality, whilst maintaining the illusion of normalcy — or at least allowing the user to feel normal. So, yes, railing against an evil Satanic pedophile cult that’s coming after your freedoms will have to do. You might even want to have valiant Donald Trump doing his darnedest to protect your freedoms from said evil Satanic pedophile cult, because people like their golden-haired heroes. While we’re at it, why not throw in Donald Trump’s plucky sidekick Q ^[5]. Disney shows us that people respond well to plucky comic relief sidekicks.

Ramzpaul isn’t the first Cypher of the Dissident Right. Ryan Faulk of the Alternative Hypothesis tried dialing it back and instituting an egopolitan Faulkland ^[6] (or so Travis LeBlanc would have you believe). But Alt-Hype fizzled out because his heart wasn’t in it. His heart wasn’t in it, because there was no alternative narrative to latch on to, except the stupid and autistic one he concocted himself. Trav LeBlanc nuked that narrative from orbit.

But our good old friend Ramzpaul is smarter. He latches on to the existing alt-lite narrative of Satanic pedophiles and imperiled freedumbz. His new friends Styx and Gavin are there to greet him with open arms. And yes, we’ll see Ramz sit through many inanities with the Loomers and McInneses of the world for the same reason I wore a black leather trenchcoat in the middle of summer: If you wanna be part of the team, you gotta play the part. If it means unlearning what you learned, unknowing what you know, and un-taking the red pill, it will entail that.

It started with corona, but it’s not about corona. It’s about being tired of fighting, tired of being demoralized and demonized; it’s about the pain and suffering inflicted by globohomo on dissidents. By alienating us from the social fabric, globohomo injures us in ways that aren’t easy to bear. Our ancestors charged into machine gun nests and took them by storm, but they had the full backing of their society, and they’d have received a hero’s funeral in the worst-case scenario. Whatever we do, we do alone, except for each other. If we fall, few will mourn for us. If I am hit by a bus tomorrow, I doubt many of my former friends will show up at my funeral.

As things get more real and the pressure mounts, expect more Cyphers — and more high-profile Cyphers. Sadly, not all of them will be obese embarrassments like Matt Heimbach. Some will be respectable and affable men like Paul Ramsey, older guys whose grounding and guidance are direly needed in a movement full of young bloods. Above all, understand that deconstructing the purple pill is paramount to our success. The purple pill is a chance for our guys to make a separate peace with globohomo the second their resolve wavers (and their resolve will waver). If our movement is to succeed, it must be destroyed.

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