THE RETIRED DOG PREACHES MONKHOOD
I have a special kind of rage for the reformed pussy hound who suddenly discovers “discipline” after running through enough women, hotel rooms, situationships, screenshots, clinic visits, and emotional wreckage to qualify for veteran benefits.
Now he wants to tell young men:
“Retain your seed, king.”
“Women are distractions.”
Easy to preach fasting after you ate the whole buffet, licked the plates, flirted with the waitress, caught something treatable, and found God somewhere between the lab results and the ring light.
These guys are not always selling wisdom.
Sometimes they are selling retirement guilt.
Sometimes they are selling the last chapter of their own dirty little autobiography as if it were the first chapter of your life.
A young man who has never been wanted does not need some used-up nightclub prophet telling him desire is weakness.
He needs discipline, yes.
He needs standards, absolutely.
He needs to stop being ruled by porn, fantasy, thirst, and female approval.
But he also needs someone honest enough to say:
“Brother, I’m not above the thing. I survived the thing. I abused the thing. I got bored of the thing. Now I’m pretending I transcended the thing.”
The man who already drowned in pleasure wants to sell swimming lessons to the kid who has never even touched water.
Miss me with the monk costume.
You still smell like the strip club parking lot.
More transmissions: https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence
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