A Tale of Two Grifts: Keffles vs. TheQuartering

Watch any trending livestream long enough and you will notice that conflict keeps eyes on screens better than any policy breakdown ever could. A careful explanation of a housing bill will not hold a room for ninety seconds but an accusation will hold it for an hour plus. Attention is counted, sold, and paid out, so conflict and outrage are converted into billable inventory, and the advertisements ride the wave.

None of this requires a conspiracy, only incentives. Nobody has to be told what performs, because the numbers say it publicly and in real time, and anyone with a webcam can read them. The machine is crude enough that a drunk could run it.

The most reliable input is grievance. A grievance arrives pre-loaded with a villain, a deadline, and a reason for the audience to stay, and it resists correction: disputing it costs more than making it, and the dispute arrives days late to a smaller room. Injury, staged correctly, is cheaper to produce than expertise and pays better.

In this article, we will break down victimhood as a business model, using two of Victimhood Inc.’s most notorious entrepreneurs: Jeremy Hambly (TheQuartering) and Lucas “Clara” Sorrenti (Keffals). They agree on almost nothing, which is the point of this case study: strip away the politics and the same steps run underneath both operations.

The Five-Step Method

Victimhood Inc. is built on a a five-step procedure. Any operator in the attention economy can learn it, and the peculiar thing about the two figures examined here is that they learned it independently of each other, on opposite sides of of the political aisle, and arrived at the identical mechanism.

Step 1: Chum the waters. 

Before the injury, there is the provocation that makes it possible. The operator stirs the pot on purpose, names an enemy, aims a stream at a controversial figure, launches a coordinated campaign, or simply leaves the door open. The enemy is baited, the hive is kicked, and the response is then presented as an unforeseeable attack. This is the step that separates the wounded from the wounded-by-design, and it is the step almost everyone discusses least, because the operator has every economic reason to pretend it didn’t happen.

Step 2: Endure the crisis

Now that the trap is set, you wait for someone to spring it. It could be a ban, a wave of harassment, a supplier who cuts ties, or a rival who lands a sharp remark. The wound doesn’t have to be deep; it simply needs to be readable. It needs an antagonist with a face and a name.

Step 3: Apply partisan framing

The injury is handed to an audience already primed to read the world as a war. The person who hurt you is not merely a person who hurt you—they are your side’s enemy, and they acted precisely because you are what you are. The antagonist is recruited as a member of the other camp.

Step 4: ?????

The wounded figure settles into the posture of the innocent. This is the cheapest and most essential asset. From this posture, any criticism becomes persecution, any setback becomes proof, any question becomes bait.

Step 5: Profit

The audience is asked to convert sympathy into a transaction. Patreon tiers. Coffee bundles. “Founders” inventory. The register varies—solidarity on one side, resistance on the other—but the arithmetic is the same: the wound is the inventory, and it must be turned over.

None of this requires that the injury be fake. It requires only that the injury be usable. Both figures under examination were, at moments, genuinely wronged. The model doesn’t rest on whether the wound is real. It rests on whether the wound can be reopened on schedule.

Keffles the Anarcho-Communist Transexual Fart Dominatrix & The Great Retard War of 2022

In March 2022, Lucas “Clara” Sorrenti could be found giggling to himself in his goon chamber as he made a name out of treating “ratioing” as sport on Twitter, months before Elon Musk bought the platform and renamed it X. The Keffles ratio method was simple: quote-tweet an easy target, direct the sycophantic handmaidens who make up his audience to the post, and watch his lame ass one liners like “Trans Rights are Human rights” receive more engagement in the replies than the original post. His targets were often mainstream names, in order to maximize his reach: Lauren Southern, Ben Shapiro, and a couple of other usual passengers in Conservative Inc.’s clown car. 

Then came Destiny. Destiny has spent years declaring his love and support for trans folx, so why does Lucas hate him? Because Destiny said transexuals should disclose their status to their partners before sleeping with them. Sorrenti admits he doesn’t disclose his transexual status. That admission, if taken at face value, describes the conduct of a serial sexual assailant. 

Stealthing is the act of depriving a sexual partner of the information they need to consent. It applies to condoms, and it applies to disclosure. Destiny criticized transexuals who sleep with people without disclosing their transexual status while Lucas admits to engaging in sexual assault proudly, and openly. Ironically, he also accused Destiny of rape by heterosexual stealthing (removing the condom during sex without consent) before walking the accusation back.

Later on, Lucas picked a fight with Destiny over trans-identified male athletes playing in women’s sports, and on March 23, 2022, Twitch suspended Destiny for “hateful conduct.” Sorrenti immediately bragged about his direct hand in the ban: “he picked a fight with me. he got banned. i won.” Within days of those tweets, in which he gloated over deplatforming a peer, a Kiwi Farms thread on Sorrenti opened. Lucas would later call that thread the “original sin” and the “reason a rifle ended up in her doorway.” But the sequence still begins with Sorrenti kicking the online beehive and teabagging wrecked honeycombs.

The Great Retard War of 2022

PICTURED: Joshua Connor Moon, Owner & Operator of the Kiwi Farms

The industrial version of this method was #DropKiwiFarms. This was not a subtweet but a wide-scale deplatforming campaign supported by large industry names salivating at the idea of deplatforming the Kiwi Farms for any reason. Cloudflare, DDOS Protection services, and other top layer infrastructure necessary for both forum and basic web hosting. Keffles named Joshua Moon, the operator of the Kiwi Farms, as well as Tim Pool, Libs of TikTok and many others as enemies.

On August 5, 2022, Sorrenti was swatted in London, Ontario. Someone sent emails to city councillors impersonating him (using both his online persona “Clara” and his birth name). The messages claimed he had killed his mother, possessed an illegal firearm, and planned to go to City Hall to shoot every “cisgender” person (a Marxist, Queer-Academia label for people who decline to adopt fictional gender identities or participate the queer lifestyle). Police treated the threats as credible, obtained a search warrant, and sent the Canadian equivalent of a SWAT team to storm Keffals’ cum-crusted goon temple. London Police Chief Steve Williams publicly confirmed it was a deliberate third-party swatting attempt and opened a criminal investigation.

CAPTION: Still From “Trans woman, Twitch streamer Keffals doxxed, arrested by London, Ont. police at gunpoint”

Transexuals everywhere rallied around Keffals, building him a press kit and coaching him until he could cry on command for a media that still looked kindly on transexuals, back before the “trans kids” movement went mainstream. GLAAD was running day-long media trainings for trans advocates as early as 2016, teaching “effective communication tools” and “how to do media interviews with journalists” , and the broader movement had already mastered the art of the sympathetic sit-down: Bruce Jenner’s 2015 Diane Sawyer interview was widely praised as a masterclass in media preparation, with commentators noting it was “no accident” that he “allowed himself to be vulnerable, shedding a few tears”.

This incident was immediately and primarily attributed to Kiwi Farms and the various influencers from Conservative, Inc. whom Lucas named as enemies. The swatting launched the high-visibility #DropKiwiFarms campaign, which generated mainstream media coverage and positioned Sorrenti as a central martyr figure for the cause. 

Concurrently, Lucas launched a GoFundMe framed around “urgent safety needs” such as moving, replacing equipment seized by police (shopping spree, girlfriend!) and building a “legal fund”. It raised over $100,000 CAD. The narrative of a pitiful, victimized transexual activist under existential threat proved extremely effective at converting attention into cash.

PICTURED: Keffles’s feminine Gamer Hump

The initial goal was specific: move overseas for “safety” (pursue a “lesbian” relationship with another transexual in Ireland), recoup losses from seized devices, and build a legal fund. After the initial target was met, the page was updated to say all further donations went “directly to my legal fund which I will be using to seek justice.”

Total raised: approximately $101,353 CAD.

A significant portion was used to pay a full year of rent upfront on a new apartment, estimated around $28,000. This was not listed as a primary use on the fundraising page. Money went toward travel, new streaming and professional studio equipment, furniture, clothes, helping friends with gear, and personal security consultations.

Private messages later surfaced in which Sorrenti expressed anxiety about how quickly the fund depleted and noted spending on “travel and replacing furniture and helping my friends out and buying new streaming gear and clothes,” adding that if people found out “I am definitely getting cancelled.”

The high-profile legal action against the London Police Service that was repeatedly referenced as the core justification did not materialize at the scale or in the form donors were led to expect. A Human Rights Tribunal process was mentioned, but it did not deliver the public reckoning or body-cam policy changes framed as the goal.

Timeline overlap with later public discussion of substance issues fueled additional questions about whether any portion of the emergency funds supported personal struggles rather than the stated safety and legal purposes.

Donors were sold an urgent, narrowly defined emergency: safety plus a legal war chest. A large share of the money funded Lucas’s hypersexual queer lifestyle. When questions arose, scrutiny was often framed as bad-faith attacks rather than accountability.

The #DropKiwiFarms campaign succeeded in its immediate goal when Cloudflare dropped the site. This was widely celebrated by Sorrenti’s audience and other pro-censorship advocacy groups as a victory for “safety and accountability”. The Kiwi Farms remained online, however, subsisting on a Tor node and then resurfacing on the clear net again, more resilient than ever. #DropKiwiFarms had failed. In the end, Joshua Connor Moon rose from the ashes of his own forum, the phoenix of the Retard Wars of 2022, crowned not by anyone in particular, but by the simple fact that his forum was still online. 

The promised high-profile legal reckoning against the London Police Service never materialized at the scale or in the form donors were led to expect. A Human Rights Tribunal process was floated into the air like a shiny object and then simply dissolved into the dark. Lucas filed the complaint on April 10, 2023, seeking $75,000 in damages for injury to dignity, feelings and self-respect plus $50,000 for loss of income and other damages, along with demands for body cameras and mandatory human rights training for officers .

In February 2023, after publicly discussing a drug addiction dating back to the GoFundMe period, Lucas faced backlash as the grift collapsed. By May 2024, TYT had issued a correction titled “Keffals Is a Fraud,” following an in-depth investigation SomeOrdinaryGamers (Mutahar) investigation. 

The same month, the case remained unresolved, with critics alleging that the “legal case” with the Human Rights Tribunal of Ontario was “dead” and that Keffals had been “lying about its status to avoid questions related to the money”. The only public record of the proceeding is a 2024 confidentiality decision addressing a third-party access request—an order redacting Sorrenti’s home address, telephone number, and email from the adjudicative records, rather than any ruling on the merits of the discrimination claim itself (CanLII, Sorrenti v. London Police Services Board, 2024 HRTO 924). No public reckoning. No body-cam policy changes. The curtain fell on an empty stage.

He attempted a few more grifts, but like his penis after the Thai chop-shop sex change, the business had been liquidated, the assets were gone, and the remaining inventory was purely decorative. Keffals and his censorship advocacy work were memory-holed within a deluge of inconvenient truths that plague the transexual movement as a whole.

Jeremy Hambly (TheQuartering), Senior Vice President of Culture War Grifting, Conservative Inc.

Jeremy Hambly, the Quartering, chums in plain sight. After allegedly getting on the phone with his YouTube representative and having the Kino Casino clips channel taken down, his hypocrisy has been on full display. The audience he claims to champion has noticed. His own fans are turning on him, and his censorious behavior has been on blast ever since the clips channel got yeeted back in April 2026. A man whose entire brand was “I cover the controversy” now finds the controversy pointed at him, and he has no coverage for that. Which is a problem, because he wants the threat. He needs it. And a man who has been repeatedly located, doxxed, and dragged through the internet’s ugliest corners does not forget how it happens. He remembers. He just doesn’t care. 

PICTURED: PPP & Andy Warski, Owner and Proprietors of The Kino Casino

So what does he do? Step one of the old playbook: chum. He walks his property like it’s a plant tour, doling out landmarks the way a frustrated real-estate agent shows off a listing. Fence line. Tree line. The way the drive curves. Enough geography, mapped out in casual beats, that any stranger with a search bar and a grudge could find the building by lunch. It is not just the bragging of a man who feels safe, but the staging of one who needs to feel victimized. He talks about his marriage, about friends in the house, about being a man under siege in his own home. He frames his wife as a protected class: untouchable, sacred, off-limits, right up until the moment he needs her, at which point she is back to being the prop again, the human shield with a name and a face, hauled out to prove the man has something to lose. 

Every stream is another pass over the same coordinates. Every mention of the wife, the house, the friends, the yard is another line item in an inventory he pretends is intimacy but that is the whole trick of it: he packages reconnaissance as rustic domesticity, and the audience mistakes a man reading his own address book aloud for a man opening his life.

But here is what the playbook always gets wrong, and what Jeremy Hambly has never once learned in ten years of doing this: you cannot run the Victimhood Inc. cycle forever on a supply of wounds that keep coming from the same hand. That is why the fans turned. It was never really about the boys at the Kino Casino. It was about watching a man who spent his career selling outrage finally get measured by his own ruler.

VIDEO: Jeremy showed up 40 minutes late to TimCast, smelling like alcohol, got the show cancelled, then called Tim “very unprofessional.” He said he doesn’t need to be on time “because I’m a professional.”

So watch the rest of this Jeremy saga, because it will unfold in the order it always does. There will be an incident. There will be a villain, named within the hour, probably “blue-haired feminists” again, because Jeremy is too scared to call any of his detractors out by name. There will be the trembling monologue about the safety of his family (Heather, four dogs, and the bull), with links to his digital tip jars posted underneath. It will be very moving. It will also be very monetized.

Every grievance gets a partisan coat of paint, every setback a villain, every silence a conspiracy of his enemies. He tells people he’s going out. Casino. Bingo. The backyard. It’s location disclosure dressed as small talk, and then it’s doctrine: the mundanity is the cover, the itinerary is the hook. A man who has already been mapped, still dropping pins, still narrating the layout for anybody who cares to listen. He is not careless. He is performing carelessness, because the martyr needs an audience and the audience needs a map. Some men build a bunker. Jeremy built a content calendar.

He does not hide from the trolls. He invites them to try to ruin the business. Ruin the coffee business. Flag the YouTube channel. Come to the door. When someone does come, he tweets that they came. When a clip channel makes the marriage a circus, he answers on the main account, which is how you make sure the circus sells tickets.

CAPTION: Casual Ralphamale Win

He taunts them by name and category and states the transaction outright: “Every time they do something stupid, I just turn it into more sales.” “I’m monetizing them.” “This video is bait for those idiots who are just helping me monetize this channel.”

He taunts them by name and category and states the transaction outright: “Every time they do something stupid, I just turn it into more sales.” “I’m monetizing them.” “This video is bait for those idiots who are just helping me monetize this channel.”

Don’t Cha Wish Your Culture War Rant Got You Canceled Like Me?

Oh, we about to get it just a little hot and sweaty in this motherfucker

The mechanism is identical: injury, betrayer, innocence, weapon, ask. The only difference is packaging, and ideology supplies it. Two influencers on opposite sides of a political war, sincerely opposed to one another, each discovered independently that a wound framed as persecution and sold as solidarity or resistance is the most reliable inventory in the attention economy. You don’t slaughter the goose. You just keep collecting the eggs and calling it a movement.

There is a pleasure in exhibiting the wound, and it is not a pleasant one. The humiliated figure restages the humiliation, and the restaging is the product. The audience receives it, the figure receives the payment, and each gets a version of the same satisfaction: witnessing, and being witnessed, at the site of the damage. The compulsion is shared and the arrangement is mutual, which is why it never resolves. It’s a feedback loop with a payout, two mirrors facing each other and calling it a business.

Don’t Cha Wish Your Victim Complex Had Tiers Like Me?

And beneath all of it lies Thanatos: the drive toward the wound, toward a state in which the self is no longer required to do anything but be wounded. This is not a literal wish to die. It is the pull to re-signify the self as the object of the wound, because the wound is the only thing that produces payment and the only thing that produces an audience. The identity is built from the reopened wound, and to close the wound is to dissolve the identity. So the wound stays open. The camera stays rolling. The footage is already in the can. The thumbnail is already made.

Don’t Cha Wish Your Grift Was Hot Like Me? Don’t Cha?

Why Sodomy Will Not Save the West: The Homosexuality of Women Hate

Thanks to Lindsay Clancy, we once again get front-row seats as Conservative, Inc. defaults to its most predictable death rattle: transforming itself into a perpetual motion machine of pure reactive fury. Mass sexual frustration has seized the White male population, leaving online commentators to funnel their collective impotence into relentless, blanket hostility toward women of the West.

But how did we get here? Let’s rewind the tape to that one Charlie Kirk/Turning Point USA campus raid, the one that launched Nicholas J. Fuentes and his Groypers into the fever dream of dissident-right infamy.

There, amidst the shouting and the shoving, a follower of the hispanic homosexual feline posed a question that keeps bubbling up from the conservative underbelly far more often than anyone in polite company cares to admit: “How is anal sex going to save the West?”

What is the strategic objective of driving an ideological wedge between men and women? 

The answer is rooted in Judeo-Capitalism, as most things seem to be these days. Consider the machinery beneath the spectacle – the systematic proliferation of debauchery among the goyim by an elite class leveraging the digital panopticon to monetize moral decay. The strategy is twofold: lower the barrier to instant gratification while simultaneously sabotaging the natural magnetism between the sexes. Flood the culture with pornography. Normalize every vice. Watch the birthrate crater and the households splinter. Men and women, estranged from each other, chasing digital dopamine while the family unit dissolves into irrelevance. No households. No children. No future.

White global population in 1900: 36%. White global population in 2018: 16%. White global population 2025: 7%-10%. White global population 2060: 3%. White global population beyond 2100: less than 1%.

As a cute little added bonus, the same machine that profits from Western decay also bankrolls the Israeli genocide machine in the Middle East. The pornography funds the bombs, while the resulting sexual alienation provides the perfect distraction to carry out slaughter without domestic consequence. It is a perfectly calibrated closed loop, and the goyim and their weak, useless sperm are merely the raw material fueling the furnace.

The transgender pipeline, actively recruiting the young and the vulnerable, guiding confused adolescents toward irreversible choices before their brains have finished developing. These are not separate battles. They are auxiliary prongs of the same offensive, deployed in concert to achieve a single objective. Plant the seeds early. Dysgenic behavior, carefully cultivated and normalized, takes root in the developing mind long before maturity offers any defense. The family unit, that stubborn biological reality, is subverted, fragmented, rendered obsolete. And the birth rates among the native population collapse, a rapid, irreversible decline that its Zionists architects track with cold satisfaction.

This is pure demographic warfare, conducted on every front with chilling precision. The foreign populations flood across the borders, weaponized as instruments of displacement, engineered to rewrite the ethnic composition of the West in a single generation. The Israel lobby, that well-oiled machine, bleeds the national treasury dry, funneling billions to a foreign state while our own infrastructure crumbles and our own citizens go without. Two fronts, same offensive, coordinated and deliberate. And it leads to the most damning question of all, the one that haunts every conversation, every debate, every desperate attempt to chart a path forward. What the fuck is OUR end game? Where is the counteroffensive? Where is the strategy? Where is the will to survive people?

So, Western Man, how IS Sodomy going to save the West?

The conservative ecosystem, for a moment in the late 2010’s a coherent front, now lies fractured and bleeding over the very questions that should unite it. Sexual politics. Cultural decadence. Biological reality. The traditionalist critique of the sexual revolution and its modern mutations remains foundational, undeniable, essential. But something has curdled in the machinery. The rhetoric has degenerated, slipping from principled critique into something far uglier. An online grievance industry has emerged, a content-hungry machine that feeds on resentment and produces outrage on demand. The legal system, portrayed as a weapon against men. Modern dating dynamics, reframed as a war of attrition. Cultural shifts, accelerating toward the abyss and blamed on a single demographic. All of it, every legitimate complaint, every valid observation, is funneled into a generalized, simmering resentment against women. The movement that began with a critique of decadence has become decadent itself. The traditionalists have abandoned tradition for scapegoating.

Carl Johnson Esq. was cooking with those tweets tbh

Observe the scrotes in their natural habitat. Furious, impotent, desperate for answers, and completely incapable of finding them. Watch them struggle, watch them flail, watch them point fingers at women, at feminism, at the dating market, at everything except themselves. The collapse of the household is not primarily an organic rebellion by women. That narrative is convenient, satisfying, and completely wrong. The collapse of the household is structural, engineered, and deliberate. A century of ideological engineering, applied with chilling consistency across every cultural front. Economic shifts, carefully structured to privilege the individual over the family, to replace interdependence with isolation. Traditional authority structures, systematically eroded by liberal governance that understood the mathematics of civilizational decline. This is the reality that the grievance industry refuses to confront.

But the tragedy does not end with the engineering. Watch the response of the men who claim to defend tradition. Reflexive hostility. Performative outrage. Scapegoating and resentment rather than constructive leadership. They drive women away from the traditional spheres that once offered meaning, stability, and purpose. And in doing so, they guarantee that Judeo-Marxist political movements remain the only alternative offered. The left does not have to win hearts and minds. The scrotes do the work for them, driving women into the arms of the very forces that engineered the collapse in the first place. The machinery turns. The scrotes rage. And the architects watch with cold satisfaction.
Historical societies understood something that has been systematically erased. Men and women are different. Different behavioral tendencies. Different vulnerabilities to institutional pressures. Traditional sociology and classical theology, dismissed as outdated, recognized the architecture of survival. Because women are biologically and socially oriented toward consensus, caregiving, and social cohesion, they are often more susceptible to the dominant institutional signals of the era. In an environment where media, education, and corporate culture aggressively promote progressive social doctrines, social contagion spreads rapidly through peer networks and educational institutions which have primarily become dominated by women.

However, the historical response to this susceptibility was never indiscriminate hostility; it was the establishment of firm, benevolent, and patriarchal structures within the household and the community. Order requires leadership and when male leadership abdicates its responsibility (or replaces authority with online resentment) it leaves the domestic sphere entirely unprotected against hostile cultural influences.

Treating the relationship between men and women as a zero-sum conflict is a quintessential modern, liberal delusion. Judeo-Marxism frames the family as a battlefield of class struggle, casting the husband as the oppressive bourgeois and the wife as the exploited proletariat. When the self-proclaimed dissident right adopts this exact dialectic, they aren’t subverting the system; they are merely laundering Judeo-Marxist social engineering through a new, more toxic filter. The practical consequences of this dynamic are evident in several distinct ways.

First, it accelerates the erosion of the household. The household, already fractured, crumbles further under the weight of engineered chaos. A civilization cannot survive without children. Children cannot be properly raised without stable, enduring marriages. These are not cultural preferences. These are biological imperatives. But the subculture that has risen from the wreckage offers nothing but resentment. By nurturing a deep-seated resentment toward potential wives and the very institution of the family that could preserve them, these men render household formation impossible, ensuring the cycle of rot continues until our civilizational decline becomes truly irreversible.

Second, it intensifies ideological polarization. Demonize women for absorbing the default views of elite institutions. They are products of the machinery, conditioned by the universities, the media, the corporate apparatus. But the traditionalist response is not understanding. It is condemnation. Hostility. Demonization. And the women watch, they learn, they adapt. They no longer see traditionalist men as protectors and providers. They see hostile actors, enemies in waiting. And in that climate of perceived threat, they flee to the only refuge available. Progressive political alliances, progressive narratives, progressive promises of safety. The traditionalists, drunk on their own grievances, the traditionalists play their assigned part as uncut, industrial-strength pussy repellent and the women don’t argue, they just leave the building.

The restoration of society depends on the restoration of the patriarchal family unit. The path forward requires a rejection of two dead ends: Feminist egalitarianism, which reduces the family to a collection of autonomous individuals and Reactionary woman hate, which reduces women to scapegoats. True authority, the authority that actually sustains civilizations, is protective. Sacrificial. Stabilizing. It is not a license for domination but a responsibility. Men who wish to see their culture preserved must focus on practical means to build the conditions that make traditional life viable. This extends to cultural competence, which requires understanding the ideological landscape well enough to guide a household through it, rather than simply reacting to headlines and digital outrage.

Look, I get it. Women fucking suck. They are often narcissistic, fickle, and seem allergic to accountability, but let us look at why nature equipped them with these traits. A woman not broken by a fatherless upbringing, raped or psychologically rotted from within by modern academia is hardwired to strive towards being attractive to their male peers. Let’s take a closer look at everything you claim to loathe. The vanity. The obsession with image. The constant hunger for attention. You frame it as moral decay, cultural collapse, evidence of civilizational decline. But watch through a different lens and you will see nature’s marketing campaign in full swing. We are primates, dressed in designer clothes and digital filters. And the female, whether she knows it or not, is hell-bent on improving the product. Enhancing the packaging. Maximizing the appeal. All for one purpose. Landing a man worthy of bearing children. The very traits that trigger your resentment are the evolutionary mechanisms that make her a woman.

So when you find yourselves spending your nights in your crusty little goon temple, furiously typing Substack articles about how women are the root of all rot eating away the civilized world, take a moment to look in the mirror. You are part of the problem. Let’s be real. You are just a guy who has decided that men are more interesting than women. That is the hidden variable in every equation, the unspoken premise of every rant. It is time to come out of the closet. Time to be honest with yourself about why you are really writing that article about repealing the 19th amendment. It has nothing to do with saving the west and everything to do with your subconscious desire for a big ol’ stinky dick up right up the pooper.

The Inherent Homosexuality of Women Hate

Let’s address the irony that sits at the absolute center of modern women hatred, gleaming like a disco ball at a gay wedding. The Incel circles. The red pill forums. The digital monasteries where young men have voluntarily excised women from their cognitive landscape entirely. They have built a world without the female principle. They have curated a digital ecosystem devoid of feminine energy. And here is the brutal, hilarious truth: for a group of guys who claim to be the last vanguard of biological reality and traditional order, the warriors of evolutionary truth, the defenders of heterosexual imperative, their entire daily existence is functional, digital homosexuality. They wake up to men. They listen to men. They work out to men. They critique the vascularity of men. They analyze the head shapes of men. They rank the cheekbones of men. They go to sleep thinking about men.

They have built a life that revolves entirely around the male gaze, the male voice, and the male form. They are the most successful homosexual community on the internet, and they have never been more oblivious to it.

Observe the average online woman hater in his natural habitat. The alarm sounds. The earbuds go in. And immediately, the voices of other men are phallically pumped directly into his cerebral cortex. Three hours of podcast content, typically men in their late twenties, none of whom have touched a woman in recent memory, all debating the mysterious labyrinth of female psychology. If women do happen to wander onto the set, they are inevitably some flavor of glorified cam-girl, possessing all the personality and self-worth of a discarded fidget spinner. Don’t expect to see a woman with her soul intact or her wits about her; those types are far too busy living actual, productive lives to participate in this charade. The whole production is just a closed-loop system of pure, unadulterated male speculation, complete with a revolving door of plastic eye-candy whose only job is to nod at the host while he explains the complex geopolitical significance of his latest online beef. It is the ultimate digital sausage fest, masquerading as a high-level summit on the future of the species.

The “Western Man” arrives at the gym, a cathedral of iron and vanity. He does not look at women. They are spiritual distractions, temptresses, obstacles on the path to enlightenment. Instead, he spends sixty minutes meticulously critiquing the physiques of other men. The vascularity. The shoulder-to-waist ratios. The quadriceps separation. His gaze lingers. His judgment is severe. His notebook is full.

He returns to his apartment. The social media application is opened. The ritual enters its final phase. Four hours of head shape analysis. Facial aesthetics. Testosterone estimation. He stares at the faces of other men. The jawlines. The brow ridges. The zygomatic arches. He catalogs them with the cold precision of a taxidermist. He has opinions about their chins. Strong opinions. Absolute opinions. He has never been more passionate about anything. The cheekbone projection is adequate. The mandibular definition is suboptimal. The nasal bridge is acceptable. He makes mental notes. He makes spreadsheets. He makes judgments that would make a eugenicist blush. This is not a hobby. This is a discipline. This is the only thing that makes sense in a world of chaos and women. He is not looking at men. He is assessing specimens. And he has never been happier.

This is the routine. This is the movement. This is the man who will save Western civilization. He has not thought about a vagina for the last twenty-four hours. Not once. Not even as a theoretical abstraction. The thought has not crossed his mind. It has not registered. It has not penetrated. He is far too consumed by the zygomatic arches of other men to spare a single neuron for the reproductive anatomy of the opposite sex. He is pure. He is focused. He is the vanguard. He has achieved a state of total cognitive chastity that would make a Trappist monk blush. He has transcended biology. He has ascended beyond desire. He is the last defender of tradition, and he has not so much as imagined a woman in an entire day. This is not repression. This is clarity. This is discipline. This is the path forward. He is the most committed heterosexual in human history, and he has never been more certain of anything in his life.

At no point in this twelve-hour cycle does a female voice enter his life. No female perspective. No female presence. His emotional spectrum is mediated by men. His status is determined by men. His grievances are validated by men. The approval he craves is male. The enemies he fights are male. The aesthetic standards he worships are male. All of it. Every particle. He has built a world without women and called it heterosexual resistance. He has never been more certain of anything.

He has not thought about a vagina for the last twenty-four hours. Not once. Not even as a theoretical abstraction.

This rot has been festering deep within the American Right for decades. From Mark Foley to war hawks like Lindsey Graham, the archetype remains identical. The performative conservative man who prefers the sterile, high-status company of male elites to the messy, essential reality of a traditional home. He chooses power, institutional validation and the approval of other men but he recoils from the domestic struggle that actually preserves a civilization. He occupies his life with abstract talk of empire and hierarchy but remains pathologically detached from the foundational work of raising children or sustaining a wife. He has never so much as lived with a woman. He has never so much as raised a child. He has substituted the club of male senators for the embrace of a family.

You see it every night, on the right, left and in political bodies across the world: reptilian politicians who worship the hollow architecture of the state and flinch at the household. They view the chaos of a family not as a legacy, but as an inconvenience to their curated and artificial lives. They project an image of iron-willed strength while refusing the one act that produces it, which is the creation and protection of a family. Ultimately, their obsession with male-only institutions and their alienation from the feminine reveal a diagnosis rather than an insult. They are men who have built their entire worldview around a facade of traditionalism they are personally incapable of living. They are the most oblivious figures in the capital, forever certain of their own posture, yet forever fundamentally wrong about what it actually means to be a man of a nation.

From Mark Foley to war hawks like Lindsey Graham, the archetype remains identical. The performative conservative man who prefers the sterile, high-status company of male elites to the messy, essential reality of a traditional home.

She is not your Mommy.

If you are not a psychopathic homosexual, then you are just one of those sad ass dudes… The ones who spend their lives looking for a woman to be a soft place to land. A cushion. A pillow. A warm, receptive surface to absorb all that emotional debris left over from being raised by an emotionally unavailable single mother. If you think this might be you, pay attention to the way you speak of the role of women in your life as a whole, because the way you talk about them is not a commentary on them but a confession about you. She becomes a mere extra in your own resentment-fueled soap opera. She is nothing more than a convenient plot device in a narrative you have scripted entirely for your own ego. Unfortunately, not every woman is your mother.

Unfortunately, not every woman is like your mother.

Stop performing the theater of basic etiquette as if it were an achievement, because a woman of substance is looking for a leader and protector, not a child seeking a surrogate mother to reward his mimicry of manhood. You are not entitled to a helpmeet while you remain a stunted, bitter recluse. Stop waiting for a woman to fix your internal collapse because she’s not coming. Start building the frame that makes it easier for her to find you. Build the substance. Women are expected to do this every day. Makeup. Outfit. Biggest fucking smile. Answer phones. Greet customers. Eat shit for eight hours behind a desk and for fucks sake, at least men have the privilege and satisfaction of doing real work. Women are always performing. The men are building… but then there is you, complaining. Resenting. Shitting down their neck online for being as sick of the world as you are for all the same reasons. At least nobody is telling you to smile while you eat shit.

The grievance industry and its algorithmic amplifiers have done their work well, turning men and women into permanent adversaries instead of natural complements. This conflict is entirely manufactured, engineered to drive the sexes apart, crater the birth rate, and dissolve the natural bonds of society. Men retreating into digital spaces to nurse resentments, fixating exclusively on other men while fleeing their God-given duties to women and children, is not strength. It is a sterile, inward-looking evasion that accepts the very demographic suicide the architects of this decline intended.

Under the weight of modern social engineering, men and women share the exact same struggles and the same fundamental enemies. Reversing this managed decline requires more than policy tweaks or cultural complaints. It demands an end to the posturing, the performative outrage, and the stale habit of blaming the other side for everything. Men and women have to abandon the imported scripts of bitterness that tell them they are natural enemies, and they have to reject the false paradigm of sex warfare altogether. That paradigm serves no one except those who profit from division and fragmentation. The real work is unglamorous and patient: setting aside grievances, recognizing shared interests, and rebuilding what has been deliberately broken. It starts not with grand gestures but with ordinary people choosing cooperation over conflict, and that choice, repeated across enough households, is what actually changes things.

The Death of Kosher Conservatism

There is a specific kind of political commentator that dominated the mid-2010s. He was smart enough to sound credible, careful enough to stay monetized, and vague enough to avoid committing to anything that might cost him a sponsor. He talked about facts and logic, debated college students, building his brand around being the reasonable one in the room. These operations peaked around 2021 and have been quietly contracting ever since. The through-line connecting all of them is the use of bot networks to simulate cultural relevance and careful brand management to stay palatable to advertisers. If you want to understand how this brand of conservatism operates, and why it is failing, the Daily Wire is the most instructive place to start.

The Daily Wire was built by Orthodox Jewish conservative Ben Shapiro alongside co-founder Jeremy Boreing, with funding from Texas oil billionaires Farris and Dan Wilks, who also bankrolled Dennis Prager. What they got for their investment was the institutional home of what you might call Kosher conservatism: pro-Israel, willing to fight meaningless culture war battles on trans issues, DEI, and Hollywood, but careful to stay within certain limits. Never too edgy, and always advertiser friendly. The kind of conservatism that wins debates and changes absolutely nothing.

IMAGE: Moishe “Six-Shooter” Finkelberg didn’t even bother to tuck in his god damn shirt before saddling up with his faithful companion, Patch

For a while, it worked spectacularly. The Daily Wire became one of the most-watched conservative media operations in the country. Then Facebook substantially altered its algorithm in 2021 in ways that disadvantaged political content on the platform. The Daily Wire’s subscriber count peaked that year and has been declining since.

The audience moved on but the Daily Wire did not. The culture kept shifting. The institutions kept going in the same direction. Facts and logic, it turned out, are not a functional counterstrategy when the people running things do not care about them.

There is also the question of authenticity that the bot situation raises. The view counts that made the Daily Wire look like a thriving operation appear to have been substantially assisted by purchased traffic. When the spending on that stopped, the numbers reflected something closer to reality. A video featuring both Shapiro and his beloved Shabbos goy Matt Walsh pulling 7 live viewers is not the signature of a healthy media empire.

Boreing stepped down in early 2025 amid rumors of internal drama and serious concerns about the company’s financial health. The vanity projects, particularly the film division and the broader attempt to build a conservative Hollywood, had reportedly burned through enormous resources without producing equivalent returns. Shapiro’s daily program still has an audience, but the trajectory is clearly trending downward with no obvious path back up. His pro-Israel positioning has become a liability.

Shapiro is not the only figure whose brand of careful, advertiser-friendly conservatism is running out of road. The same audience attrition, the same gap between the performance of relevance and the reality of declining numbers, shows up across every major figure who built their career on the same model.

Tim Pool started his career during the Occupy Wall Street protests in 2011, when he rigged a consumer drone with a camera and streamed live footage to the internet, giving people a view of the demonstrations that the mainstream press could not easily block. The Guardian called it a clever loophole. He was twenty-five years old, working as a citizen journalist, and producing content that actually mattered. He went on to work for Vice and Fusion, building a reputation as an on-the-ground reporter willing to go places other journalists would not.

Then, somewhere around 2017, he stopped going anywhere and started sitting in a room reading other people’s articles into a camera.

The transition happened gradually and then all at once. Pool built a YouTube channel around a carefully maintained persona: the left-leaning skater kid from Chicago who was so troubled by what the left was becoming that he felt compelled to document its excesses. He called himself a liberal. He insisted he was not right-wing. He said “I don’t know” and “it’s complicated” so frequently that it became a running joke among his critics and eventually among his own audience.

Tim’s fence-sitting was deliberate. He must have known on some level that his audience was watching because he gave them permission to drift rightward while maintaining plausible deniability about having done so. If Tim Pool, a self-described liberal, thought the left had gone too far, then maybe you were not a bad person for thinking the same thing. This worked well through the early Trump years, until Pool’s content calcified into a formula so predictable that multiple people independently charted it out. Minute one introduces a topic. Minutes two through ten repeat that topic in slightly different words. A Marvel reference appears somewhere in the middle. Civil war gets mentioned at some point. The audience is reminded to buy doomsday prepper food buckets from that day’s sponsor. Every day, five videos a day at peak output, the same topics recycled endlessly with the energy of a man who had long since stopped caring.

Meanwhile, the compound he built in rural West Virginia, which acquired the affectionate nickname Beanie Ridge among the people tracking his career, became a soap opera unto itself. His million-dollar crowdfunded news venture, SCNR, collapsed after co-founders accused him and his brother Chris of botting and promoting fraudulent sponsors. Tim fired the entire staff and revoked their access to the YouTube channel, the AdSense account, and the bank account. He allegedly held his former business partner’s cat as leverage in the subsequent dispute, which required police involvement and got covered by the Daily Beast.

In 2023, Tenet Media, a content venture Pool entered alongside Dave Rubin and Lauren Chen, was allegedly funded by $9.7 million from RT through shell companies and fabricated investor identities. Two RT employees were federally indicted over it. The DOJ indictment names Pool as “Commentator-2” and reveals he had negotiated $100,000 per weekly episode before signing on. Lauren Chen and her husband appear to have known where the money was coming from. Pool claims he did not. What the indictment also reveals, almost incidentally, is that RT was frustrated with him because he only shared one Tenet video that week. He was a bad return on investment for a foreign intelligence operation, which is either exculpatory or just a different kind of damning depending on how you look at it.

Meanwhile, at Beanie Ridge, Pool employed a dedicated skate park manager, listed his girlfriend as COO, and built out a roster of dozens of employees and contractors across multiple overlapping projects with no apparent organizational structure holding any of it together. He invested roughly half a million dollars in a coffee shop venture, spent around a million on the skate park, and put $15,000 into a sword. His Pop Culture Crisis side channel, which he promoted heavily as a brand expansion, was pulling under 5,000 views per video. When a graphics card died on set and nobody replaced it, he threatened on air to shut the entire IRL operation down, then spent the episode cataloguing how nobody he had hired was managing anything while acknowledging that he had made every hiring decision himself.

His music career is worth a brief mention. In 2022 he released an official music video called “Only Ever Wanted,” recorded while wearing the beanie, which sounded like late-era Linkin Park attempting to be U2. The production buried what was apparently a decent natural singing voice under layers of autotune, and the drummer’s practice pads were visible in the shot, indicating the recording space had not been properly soundproofed. He spent multiple consecutive episodes responding to the mockery the video received, which made everything considerably worse.

By the time Pool appeared in the White House press pool in April 2025, still wearing the beanie he has not visibly removed for the better part of a decade, the distance between where he started and where he ended up was almost too large to process. He used his White House question to complain that journalists had been mean about the new media seating arrangement. He did not ask about policy. He reportedly only removes the beanie in the presence of Jewish interviewers, a detail that is either deeply funny or deeply revealing, and is probably both.

The core grievance Pool cannot let go of is that the mainstream press refuses to take him seriously. The problem, which he has never appeared to fully reckon with, is that he spent a decade positioning himself as an enemy of the establishment press and is now confused that they treat him accordingly. He mistakes being contrarian for being insightful, which is exactly what happens to the kind of person who intellectually peaks in college.

Pool’s arc, from citizen journalist with a drone to a man reading Daily Mail articles about a train derailment thirty miles from his house, is at minimum the story of someone who started with something real and lost it. Jeremy Hambly never had the something real to begin with, which makes his version of the same trajectory somehow even less flattering. He watched what the bigger channels were doing, identified the formula, and copied it. The problem is that he was copying Tim Pool at Tim’s lowest-effort period, which meant he was already working from a degraded template before he even began.

Tim Pool drops his iconic headwear and shows off his bald dome on camera.

The mechanics of Jeremy’s operation were straightforward once exposed. He purchased bot engagement to inflate his YouTube analytics, tailored his uploads to whatever was trending on Google or Twitter, and built his entire content strategy around latching onto popular topics and grinding them into dust. Star Wars. Marvel. Brie Larson. The Karmelo Anthony case. He produced dozens of videos on each; some built on speculation presented as fact, with tweets and comments sections treated as sourced reporting.

What makes Jeremy a genuinely interesting case study, rather than just another mid-tier grifter cycling through the same outrage topics, is how transparent the envy became over time. The deeper you look into his career, the more obvious it is that he wanted what Tim Pool had: the compound, the audience, the aesthetic of being part of a movement rather than merely adjacent to one. The difference is that Tim Pool, whatever his considerable failures, was once a working journalist with real sources and real networking ability. Jeremy is a guy from Wisconsin who would be more naturally suited behind IT help desk.

For the full drama breakdown, MikeyNoMoh covers it in far more entertaining detail than I could manage.

Jeremy Hambly is the furthest this business model could degrade before it stopped functioning entirely, which makes him a useful place to stop and take stock of what all three of these careers actually have in common. The through-line is not an ideology. It is the specific way each of them mistook audience capture for influence. Shapiro won debates, built a company, and changed nothing about the culture he was supposedly fighting. Pool positioned himself as a journalist while building an increasingly elaborate compound from which he covered the news by reading newspaper articles out loud. Hambly watched both of them and concluded that the formula was the point, that you could skip the credential entirely and go straight to the content farm.

They were all, in different ways, right about that for a while until the algorithm changed, the bot spending dried up, and the audience that remained started noticing what they were actually getting in exchange for their time and money. The reasonable conservative brand, the one built on facts and logic and careful brand management, pro-Israel positioning and never saying anything that would get you demonetized, turned out to be a product the market eventually stopped wanting.

Additional Reading

Vox Day column on Ben Shapiro chickenhawk accusations (August 29, 2005)

Kiwifarms thread on Tim Pool

Kiwifarms thread on Ben Shapiro & The Daily Wire

Kiwifarms thread on Jeremy Hambly / The Quartering / MTGHeadquarters / Unsleeved Media / Midwestly – Alcoholic, Addict, Cry-bully, FLAGGOT, Man-baby, Grifter, Cancel Pig, cucked by (((Adam Sellers))), pisses in basement, shits pants in public, lecherous, banned Ren-Faire miscreant, scammer, sex pest

When Did Punk Become so Fucking Lame?

As you walk into one of your old favorite punk venues, the smell hits you first: stale beer, cigarettes, weed, and whatever they’re burning on the grill in back. The walls are a collage of band flyers and stickers, old and new. The kind of visual noise that used to mean something dangerous was happening here, and you let yourself believe that it still does for a moment, until you spy that familiar set of flags on the wall.

Source: Tumblr

The progress pride flag, often accompanied by the trans flag, with that triangular stripe of black, white, brown, pink and blue bolted onto the front of the original rainbow like a bumper sticker on a bumper sticker. The flags are positioned at eye level, which is how you know they aren’t simply decoration but active indicators of the politics and policies of the space you’ve just walked into. Next to it, or near the door, or sometimes on its own folding signage, is often a list of rules: No racism. No sexism. No homophobia. No transphobia.

SOURCE: Iamge source: From Berkeleyside’s August 26, 2026 feature on the venue turning 40. Photo by Ximena Natera for Berkeleyside
SOURCE: Iamge source: From Berkeleyside’s August 26, 2026 feature on the venue turning 40. Photo by Ximena Natera for Berkeleyside

I have become accustomed to finding these same symbols in any space that advertises itself as a home for alternative culture: the pride flags, the posted rules, the promise of radical inclusivity extended warmly to every conceivable identity.

It’s in these moments I stop and ask myself: when did punk become so fucking lame?

Source: Tumblr; Reclaiming slurs is one thing, but let’s be real: there’s no universe where a “Pansy” or “Faggot” patch reads as cool, tough, or edgy in any way.

The original punk venue was not a safe space and was never meant to be. The crowd was unpredictable, the bands were hostile, and nobody was particularly interested in making you feel validated. Punk was antagonistic toward everything and everyone, including the left, and especially including you. It was nihilistic, uncomfortable, and deliberately offensive, and that was entirely the point.

There’s a specific moment in the life of every subculture where it stops being a place people escape to and starts being a place people escape from their own boredom. Punk hit that moment somewhere in the mid-2000s and it’s been accelerating ever since. The kids showing up weren’t running from anything real. They were running from comfort. When the primary audience of a subculture is suburban kids looking for an identity that feels dangerous without actually being dangerous, the subculture reorganizes itself to serve that market. The edges get sanded down, the hostility becomes performative, and the danger becomes an aesthetic choice rather than an unavoidable consequence of showing up.

The Underdog Myth Killed Punk from the Inside

The underdog myth didn’t originate in punk spaces but it fed directly into them. Lauren Southern’s recent essay traces how Hollywood spent two decades building a cultural framework where social failure was repackaged as moral virtue, where the outcast wasn’t just misunderstood but secretly superior to everyone around them. Punk absorbed that mythology completely. The aesthetic of marginalization became aspirational, which is a contradiction that should have been fatal but instead became the product.

The Narcissism Of The Underdog by Lauren Southern

A love letter to normies.

Read on Substack


Once being an outsider is something you can purchase and perform, the outsider has become the establishment. The patch collection, the record crate, the right zines, all of it functions as the underdog myth made wearable. You’re not rebelling. You’re cosplaying someone who did.

Retail Therapy for Radicals

Stores like Hot Topic are underrated villains in this story, and not for the reason people usually cite. The standard critique is that they commercialized punk, that they took something raw and sold it to mall kids, and while that’s true as far as it goes, the more interesting and more damaging thing Hot Topic did was engineer the order of operations in a way that made the politics feel like a natural conclusion rather than a sales pitch.

Source: u/SaveMyStardust on r/Scene

Growing up in the 2010s, you didn’t buy the politics first, you bought the aesthetic: the “Blood on the Dancefloor” band tee, the rainbow-studded belt, the black skinny jeans. The aesthetic came pre-loaded with a set of cultural associations, a tribe, a vocabulary, and a list of acceptable opinions that nobody handed you directly but that you absorbed through proximity the same way you learned the words to songs you never consciously memorized. By the time the politics arrived, the groundwork was already laid, you had already self-sorted into the tribe and already knew what the tribe believed, and dissenting from those beliefs didn’t just mean having a different opinion. It meant losing the aesthetic, the community, and the identity simultaneously, which for a teenager is not a political cost but an existential one.

Source: Tumblr

Counterculture has always had a complicated relationship with commercialization, but there’s a specific cynicism in selling dissent as a lifestyle product when the dissent in question is fully aligned with the dominant institutions of the moment. A patch that says “smash the patriarchy” is not threatening to anyone with actual power in 2026, and everyone in the room knows it, even if nobody says so out loud. It is a loyalty signal, a way of communicating party membership and tribal affiliation to the other people in the room who already agree with you, which is the opposite of resistance in every way that actually matters.

Source: Billie Joe Armstrong (Green Day), Green Day’s 2024 “Saviors” tour

Defanged, Declawed & Neutered

The visual language of punk, the aesthetics, the venues, the zines, got repurposed to carry a value system that is, at its core, deeply institutional. Academia preaches it, corporate HR enforces it, and legacy media publishes it, and the fact that it arrives wearing a leather jacket and a circle-A patch does not change what it is or who it serves. It was absorbed by a new establishment that learned to speak the language of rebellion while building its own rigid orthodoxy underneath it, and when the New York Times, Human Resources departments, and your local punk venue all agree on the rules, you are not looking at a countercultural movement anymore.

Source: Tumblr

If punk is defined by antagonizing the dominant cultural institution, then the genuinely countercultural position right now is not what’s being sold in those venues, on those shirts, or in those zines. The punk spaces you can find on Google Maps, with their posted rules and their progress flags and their promise of radical inclusivity, are not places where anything threatening to power is actually happening. They are where the narcissistic queers in power go to feel edgy on a Friday night, after a couple of poppers and a Slippery Nipple, surrounded by sycophantic handmaidens who all showed up wearing the same uniform of dissent and call it a revolution.

Real counterculture doesn’t advertise itself, doesn’t have a dress code or a flag or a posted list of approved opinions by the door, and it was never designed to make you feel safe or validated or welcome.

Source: Tumblr