I'm sure my five loyal readers have missed me. My new job has kept me occupied for the last several weeks but now my schedule is more or less set in stone: I work overnight shifts, 11 pm to 7 am. Your body adjusts quickly once you've done it for a few nights in a row. I keep myself fueled with Earl Grey tea, hot wings, energy drinks, and cigarettes. Therefore, manosphere denizens who stumble upon this blog should not take fitness tips from me. You shouldn't be taking them from a man with the handle "Beefy Levinson," anyway.
My job forces me into close quarters with the lower classes. Often enough they're decent people who have allowed meth or alcohol to destroy their health. It's only confirmed my belief that modern people are desperately wanting for some higher purpose. Whether you're a king or a little street sweeper, sooner or later you dance with the reaper. In the mean time, people need a sense of belonging to a higher order, of a hierarchy in which they recognize their place in the cosmos. Otherwise, life becomes a drudge with binge drinking and drugs to relieve the existential tedium.
One morning a customer and I shared a smoke together. Somehow our conversation moved to my personal background, and I told him I was in the seminary for two years.
"Oh yeah? I was an alter boy."
As he was in his sixties, I replied, "Oh yeah? Et introibo ad altare Dei..."
"Uh... ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam... Christ, I can't believe I still remember that."
"It's like the Hotel California man. You check in but you never check out."
For those who found me via Return of Kings, I should resume my normal publishing schedule this week. I've got a backlog of articles built up so you'll get your fix of hot doses of truth soon enough.