There’s a new disease spreading among American men of intelligence, class and accomplishment, characterized by total disgust of the victim’s surroundings. The victim becomes increasingly repulsed by the pointlessness of his job, the venality of his co-workers, the stupidity of the people he meets on the street, and the boorishness and dullness of the women he is expected to date. He becomes sullen, forlorn, and anti-social, preferring to self-medicate with alcohol and commiserate with his trusted friends. Self-help books and prescription drugs either don’t help or defeat the purpose of helping by destroying the victim’s mind. Vacations to other places, particularly foreign countries, can temporarily ameliorate the symptoms, but every inch of progress made while away is undone once the victim returns home. The only way to cure the disease is for the victim to leave for good.
I’m calling this disease Roosh Syndrome. And I’ve got it.
To be sure, I didn’t realize I had it right away. I ran through every rationalization in the book to keep myself from facing the truth:
- “You’ve got a well-paying job! The economy’s bad, you can’t afford to take chances!”
- “You live right by one of the top party schools in the nation. Plenty of hot co-eds to fuck!”
- “It’s just a phase. You’ll get over it.”
This and more kept my mind away from the truth my subconscious sought to reject. When I took sick days just to sleep in and stare at my bedroom ceiling, I ignored it. When I began losing my cool when talking to people I held in contempt (almost everyone), I justified it by saying I was being honest to myself. When I started drinking to the point of blackouts and barfing – something I hadn’t done since I was an idiot undergrad infatuated with the devil’s buttermilk – I didn’t think twice of it. Every crack that appeared in the dam of my reality I painted over and forgot about. But while you may not be interested in reality, reality is interested in you.
I finally snapped over the summer. I can’t deny it any longer – I HATE Albany.
I hate almost everything about this reeking cesspool of a city. I hate the cocksucking two-bit politicians who lie every day of their lives without a bit of remorse. I hate the tenth-rate lobbyist pimps who are only here because they couldn’t hack it on K Street. I hate the corrupt, incompetent, wannabe-guido mayor and the brain-damaged mouth-breathers who keep re-electing him. I hate the useless, fascistic police force that can’t stop murderers and muggers from wandering the streets but can bust every harmless underage college kid who pounded a few beers on Saturday night. I hate the rude, dumb civil servants who have everything a middle-class mediocrity could ever want but still indulge in being fat, ugly, mean-minded little fucks. I hate the encroaching urban blight, I hate the perpetually gray skies, and I hate the Empire State Plaza.
And I decided that I had to get out of the Capital Region as soon as possible.
There was one big problem – money. A bad economy means the average worker can’t be choosy. And on the off-chance I DID find a new job, it was a near-certainty that I’d be making less than I did now. I’m not terribly materialistic, but I DO have student loans to pay off, and there’s something comforting about knowing that you have a standard of living above many of your peers.
I didn’t care. I had to get out of here. Something had changed in my brain, a switch had been flipped and broken off in the new position. I used to be a pragmatist, only concerned with what would keep me comfortable and alive for the moment. Dreams? Eh, they can wait, I’ve got bills to pay. It was this spirit of realism that led me to take this government bureaucrat job to begin with.
But now, I was different. I couldn’t justify this self-imposed life of pointlessness any more. I couldn’t sate myself with promises of doing something about my life later, when I had more money or fewer worries. I had to take action.
I polished up my resume, punched up letters of introduction, and sent them both out to a million different places. I went to job interviews, shook hands, and BS’ed like I was back in high school trying to get into Fucknozzle U. And last month, I struck gold.
Years ago, I vowed to myself that I was going to leave America eventually. I don’t want to become another statistic, another faceless mediocrity who lives only for whatever cheap, pointless pleasures the government-corporate complex allows its peons to indulge in. I want to see new lands, experience new cultures, and meet people who aren’t as hopelessly broken as the average American. I’ve only had a few tastes of what life is like outside of the land of the cowardly and the home of the slave, but they’ve left me with an unquenchable thirst to escape.
I’m not ready to go. Not yet. But this is the most meaningful step I’ve ever taken towards creating my new life. The first move I’ve made towards giving myself purpose, instead of merely drifting by from day to day with a diet of alcohol and sex to satisfy me.
Yesterday was my last day at work. I’ve spent the past week saying my goodbyes, packing up everything I own and making arrangements for what I can’t fit in my car to be shipped out. Today, I’m heading out to see my family and friends for Christmas. On Sunday, I’m leaving the Capital Region for good.
The new job, as expected, pays less than my old one, but I won’t take much of a hit in my lifestyle. It’s not like I needed cable TV or a Netflix subscription anyway. I also won’t be wasting away in some corner office surrounded by morons anymore, and I’ll be living in a place I’m familiar with and love. Most importantly, the job will allow me to gain a skill set that will help me in my future endeavors, more so than doing state government makework could ever help.
Posting will likely be sporadic next week at both blogs, as I’ll be busy moving in and acclimating myself to the new job, and what little blog time I have will be spent working on the back-ends. I’ll return in full force on January 3rd.
By the time you read this, In Mala Fide and Retrotic will have been transferred over to the new private servers (web and mySQL) I ordered. I’ve also purchased the Thesis theme, though I’ve only been able to install it over at Retrotic so far. A very big thanks to everyone who’s donated or otherwise helped me out.
Living in America is like being a zombie, an endless torture for anyone who isn’t a mindless member of the Crowd. Today, I begin my journey back towards the world of the living. Today, I begin my new life.
{ 47 comments… read them below or add one }
Which country? or just another state?
[Just south of the border, though I'll be spending a fair bit of time on the other side. - ed.]
This is the first post of yours that made me sit up and read. I think freedom improves your writing. Hope you won’t wait as long to take the next step.
Japan?
[Nope. I just love that song. - ed.]
Good luck to you, FB! I presume you’ll update us on your new stomping grounds soon.
Good luck on moving and adapting.
Was thinking about a quote from Hazlitt or someone else which sayd something similar along the lines of “whenever people travel and assume that things will be better and change will occur just due to the surroundings they are wrong because ultimately their own innate self is not happy with whatever is going on”
bad paraphrase on my end
perhaps more game more women more parties would have made Albany just as good as the new place?
[Doubtful. It would have needed more sun and fewer morons running around. And maybe a quality escort service. - ed.]
Best of wishes.
As an expat for ten years, I don’t miss the Western world at all. When I lived in America, I used to travel abroad for vacation. When I went back to America after my vacation, I had the unmistaken feeling that I had come back to a jail.
Now I am happy living abroad. Good salary, nice people, meaningful life, good women (not the monsters that live in America), excellent climate….
When I meet American people and I tell them which country I live they look at me with contempt and pity. But I have pity for them too. The difference is that I know both countries and they don’t know what they are missing.
Having said that, let me give me some advice: before going abroad, make sure you have a good job in the country you are going to live.
You sounds happy in your writings. Good for you.
All the best for the new job and especially the new direction in life! :)
Bravo sir! I made a similar decision 6 months ago and have never looked back. I’ll bet Rivelino will be posting something similar in a few months. For me it was the realisation that my routine was out of alignment with my mission. Deida’s “Way of the Superior Man” has an excellent chapter on it.
Great decisions, including Deep Purple.
Good luck!
(From the Boomer)
An inspiring post to be sure, but please, less tease, more details! I find myself at a similar crossroads at this point in my life, and I need some inspiration.
[Coming very soon, along with a new look for the blog. - ed.]
The mangina-controlled lamestream media calls this condition the “midlife crisis”
The most severe cases occur in married men once they realize the utter hopelessness of their thirst for freedom, but single guys get it too, but to a much milder degree.
I thought Fred used to be a used car salesman at a car lot, a salesman if you will, go back to your entrepreneurial roots and start a business. There is no better feeling then being successful AND your own boss.
Good luck bro.
I respect it
Damn, major props! I hope that men everywhere will wake up in the same way you have.
Amen, brother — amen and amen.
I’m two steps behind you. Merry Christmas!
*chic noir walks by monisor ferdinand’s abode and hears that he’s moving*
hey there buddy? Long time, haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays.
speaking of roosh
Game tips for guys from a girl
http://imboycrazy.com/2010/12/for-dudes-only-how-to-for-sure-blow-it-with-a-great-girl-part-1/
fellas number 14 is very important.
Game tips for guys from a girl? Sounds like they could never be important.
On topic, good luck Ferd. I was looking into expatriating when I was in Okinawa, but it all kind of fell apart when I went crazy.
I regularly tell young people in their 20s: Get out of this country. It offers years of crisis, and no pay for you. I’m older and got to experience the late-90s boom, and have a few more problems in leaving. But I’d go to Hong Kong, Singapore, Shanghai, or Sao Paolo to see what living in a functioning urban economy was like. Only when enough productive people leave to end the siphoning off of wealth and initiative from the young and male will the central state that is absolutely SUFFOCATING us collapse. The sooner it does, the more useable infrastructure will be left to rebuild upon.
Go, young man! Your victory will be mine, too.
Best of luck, Ferdinand.
It is good to know that there are a group of peers and like-minded men are are in the same boat I am.
Congratulations and good luck, Ferd.
BOYCOTT AMERICAN WOMEN
Why American men should boycott American women
http://boycottamericanwomen.blogspot.com/
I am an American man, and I have decided to boycott American women. In a nutshell, American women are the most likely to cheat on you, to divorce you, to get fat, to steal half of your money in the divorce courts, don’t know how to cook or clean, don’t like to have children, etc. Therefore, what intelligent man would want to get involved with American women?
American women are generally immature, selfish, extremely arrogant and self-centered, mentally unstable, irresponsible, and highly unchaste. The behavior of most American women is utterly disgusting, to say the least.
This blog is my attempt to explain why I feel American women are inferior to foreign women (non-American women), and why American men should boycott American women, and date/marry only foreign (non-American) women.
BOYCOTT AMERICAN WOMEN!
My cure for Roosh Syndrome is being poor and non-white.
I work in a rural ghetto shithole where cops laugh at you when you call them for anything less that assault with a deadly weapon, and live in a slightly less rural and ghetto shithole paycheck to paycheck. Still, it’s home, and it’s tough to think about leaving when you can’t afford to move.
See, I’m not white, but I certainly feel for ethnic white nationalists. I mean Hawaii is an overpriced class and race-riven intellectually dead and economically stagnant land of the lotus eaters, but I’m fucking Hawaiian. This is what I came from and what I’ll return to. It’s amazing how much that can kill the anomie and ennui. Most of America? Well, what can I say. To steal an old quote “There’s no *there* there.” A torrent of mass media vomit and regional homogenization is killing a sense of place and a sense of a communal history.
I’ve had my time abroad (and can tell you that once you’re really fluent in a language you find people from other cultures just as inane and irritating in their own way), I’ve had better pay (and miss it everytime I need to see a doctor or mechanic), I’ve had the company of intellectual peers (and will say that I prefer the company of humble idiots to self-deluded brains).
I’m not knocking your choice, Ferd. In your shoes I’d do the same damn thing. But I gotta say, the peripatetic answer is only palliative and curative. Until you got something that means more than your own individual existence to anchor yourself on, then you’ll keep on having to float away, and the older you get the tougher it is to keep on moving.
Good on yer Ferds!
And congratulations on your excellent taste in Black Sabbath, oh wait, Deep Purple.
If you make your way to Oz make sure you look us up, and I’ll make sure I have some quality snoo and grog lined up for your stay.
I have no idea what people mean by saying that this post and your *changed* attitude is a change for the better. I like you just the way you are and reckon your posts through the back end of this year have been inspiringly brilliant. Go hard son, and go long. Rage, rage into the night. Do that and you’ll always have some mates to make sure the going’s good and wrong.
Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and all the best to you and your loved ones, and my best wishes for you in your new digs.
Cheers Ferds, I’ll be having a dozen oysters and a case of beer in your honour starting right about….NOW!
Albany?!! There’s your problem. I’m upstate from you and have been reading you all along thinking you were from around Watertown. I could have told how much pain you’d be in from the suck of Albany before you had ever gone there in the first place. Everything you say is true. It is a dirty, characterless shithole that truly is gray all the time, even in summer.
But are you an “expat” now? That is its own form of ugly American.
This is damned awesome and I’m living a vicarious sense of liberation through you!
Good luck.
Maybe it’s me, but I’d keep that job with the state and attempt to accrue as much vacation days and pension credits as possible. Yeah, Albany is probably a hell-hole, but there’s nothing like a generous vacation policy to make life worth living.
And arguably, Empire State Plaza is the only redeeming quality about Albany. You can get a better education for nearly the same price at SUNY Binghampton and without the reek of a party school. :-)
Just south of the border, though I’ll be spending a fair bit of time on the other side.
Somehow, I think I know where that is, but I’ll leave that for you to reveal at a later date.
Boycott American Women says:
*****************
FIXED for ya:
Train American/Western women to be obedient and submissive.
Well, Merry Christmas.
Good luck, man. I know how you feel. Enjoy your freedom.
FB,
That’s the next step you’r doing. But the next step after it is when you will burn you CV and start you free work.
Good for you sir. Make a good go of it.
Cool! I did the same thing once, and it was a good decision. I hope it works out equally well for you, FB.
Take it from someone who’s lived outside of the U.S.: Once you learn the language, the grass is most definitely greener.
FB, I am proud of you. That is the way a man acts.
Having slept my way through Long Island’s finest at AYNUS (whoops, SUNYA), I needed to get out, and went to Italy, myself.
“Game tips for guys from a girl”
Ahem.
http://davidcollard.wordpress.com/2010/11/15/women-policing-the-hierarchy/
Hi Ferdinand,
Never commented here previously, but as another mid-20′s guy working a mind-numbing government-associated job in albany and a relatively steady reader I’ve appreciated the game and local politics perspective on our shitty little city.
It really is gray alotta the time but at least the nastiness of the thugs and assorted trash on lark on s. pearl has done alot to hone the inner hardness, and it seems that it’s motivated you enough to leave. It’s good to hear that. I’m working on that myself; nyc seems like a much better playground.
Anyway good luck with your move and keep up the good works. If you’re ever in albany, you’ve earned a beer or two just hit me up through the email from the comment.
You are an inspiration to a lot of us.
Becoming Alpha – aka Rivelino – is no longer linked?
[Screw-up on the back end. Fixed. - ed.]
Best of luck to you Ferd.
Believe me. I’m from the Capital Region myself. I lived just north of Albany in Latham for most of my life. Ever since I went to college in Boston, I dreaded coming back for any reason. Now I live just outside of Boston, and though the distance isn’t all that far from upstate New York, the difference in quality is mind-blowing.
Albany is just…inane, trite, mediocre…everything about it revolves around the state worker mentality. I had a minor job at Albany Med during my summer breaks from college that used to just kill my soul. It wasn’t so much the job as it was the people…nice enough people, but just soul-crushingly incurious about everything around them.
That whole “party school”?…SUNY Albany of course, right? Oh my god, ugliest campus ever created…literally, no joke. I was always told the same thing about hanging there…”go party with the SUNY kids…ultra party school…bang some easy drunk chicks”…
OH my god, i wanted to bash my head in every time I ended up hanging with those idiots.
What’s been the difference in Massachusetts? Well, I think there being a sense of history and place (geography) greatly helps things out. Oddly enough, Albany is surrounded by a huge amount of historical and geographical significance, but you wouldn’t even know it growing up there. It exists as it’s own bubble…it might as well be situated in Nebraska, or Ohio, or Georgia…it doesn’t matter because no one there cares where they are, much less carries a regional identity linked with the rest of the Northeast.
I’m sure there are Albany-type cities in almost every state of the US. Countries like the UK certainly have their fair share of places like these as well. They’re probably more common than we’d like to think.
However, here’s what bothers me (and probably yourself) the most about Albany (and it’s equivalents elsewhere). As you grow up in the area, you either become increasingly content and cloistered within your web of friends and family (often bolstered by long-lasting multi-generational bonds…i.e. your entire extended family lives within 5 miles of you, and you often attend school or go out drinking with countless cousins of yours)…or you gain some interests, some geographical curiosity, and some ambition that extends beyond the intellectual bubble that Albany sits within.
Once you gain these things though, you’re made to feel foreign and odd for odd. How is it different elsewhere? Even if you live in the suburban rings around major cities like Boston, New York, Philly, LA, Dallas, etc…the city offers a geographical, historical and cultural context. Rural areas often have their own context that is entirely different, but just as much their own. Capital-city bubble regions such as Albany subside on their inflated worth as capitals…without offering anything culturally worthwhile. Where do most people in Albany work?…by a vast margin, the State. As a result, the area is “modestly” wealthy, but not enterprising or unique (there’s no defining regional industry, nor demographic difference)…it’s completely mediocre and average in every way possible, and the people there are mostly a reflection of those characteristics. I’ve learned that this alone accounts for the ennui you’re feeling. Man, I felt it myself there.
Cities have their own problems. Rural areas have their own unique problems. International living has it’s realities as well. Yet for young, aware, men like us, we NEED significance in our surroundings, especially as our jobs give us less and less of that (in comparison to generations before during the last 50-60 years). I hope you’re getting more satisfaction where you are at this moment!
Oh yeah two other fun things about Albany! First, the girls are mediocre as hell in looks. Second (true fact), the water in the area is highly mineralized…the water is HARD! When I used to go back home to Albany for college break from Boston, I used to take showers and wash my hair…and half an hour later feel this light layer of invisible chalky scum on my skin and hair. My hair in particularly used to get all crinkled and wavy (I’m totally straight-haired), and my skin used to feel all dry and scum-chalky. I always noticed an inordinate number of guys using gel in their hair, and girls going out with that whole wet-wavy curls look…and wondered why it didn’t see it as often elsewhere. It all looked uniquely stupid. Well, hard water is the culprit. Man, that did a number on our looks…screwed up our hair and skin without even realizing it! Over here in Massachusetts and Boston, the water is relatively soft…no surprise that I (and everyone else here) has no need for hair product whatsoever. Just shower, rinse, and you’r looking good and fresh.
Damn, I do NOT miss Albany one bit, at all. I’m sure you don’t either. I can’t tell you how good it is to read someone else’s experience with this boring craphole!
Excellent post Ferdinand, I concur about my own habitat. I have also read the excellent Roosh post. I’m glad to know that I’m not alone in my disenchantment with women here, and indeed most things here. Traveling overseas was my pandora’s box and I am glad it’s opened. Now I just have to get myself out and into the wider world. I know this is an older post so I am not sure if you’ve made it out, I need to catch up. But best of luck either way. This world is so big, so much to it, staying put can feel like living death.
PS I’d gladly get you a bottle of fine Kentucky Bourbon as well. Keep up the good work Sir.
Curing yourself of Roosh syndrome would mean finding a way to live contentedly in your country of origin. You are basically planning to just do the same thing Roosh did. :P
I once heard of curing Roosh Syndrome with either penicillin or membership in Al Queda.
Well this is very interesting -I happen to be in a similar position. I’m not getting laid much, but I currently am raising money for the democratic party – and I don’t feel “accomplished” at all. So why? I spent over half a year in different parts of Europe. Now I’m determined to go back. Alcohol is very difficult to not drink, since I live in a college town (Columbia MO) and there isn’t much else to do. Now, in Stockholm, I could go and do very often the thing I enjoy the most, which is chess. So, Ed, I’m in your situation. Mid-twenties crisis. Money is tough to save. I don’t have any student loans or other debts, actually, but I need to get the f@## away from the US. Any suggestions? I’m thinking of going to Germany with a little bit of money, since they have what is called “an open border policy”, and then going to Stockholm…Or vice versa..But truthfully, I don’t know much about what I’m doing..I just gotta get out of here!
“I once heard of curing Roosh Syndrome with either penicillin or membership in Al Queda.”
Yes, this is the ‘Uh Doctrine’ of curing anomie. Peshawar is always hiring.
{ 15 trackbacks }