Redemption Dictated by Divine Bullies

2030 words.

If you count yourself as a member of what is popularly known as “Beer Race,” you most likely recall the news concerning Bud Light’s rapid decline caused by the consumer revolt triggered by the corporation’s endorsement of mincing ghoul Dylan Mulvaney. The news was expressed in polar opposite tones as “The White Man Says No More!” This interpretation was correct, since both the Global South and the Gender South do not consume the beer in question. I was reminded of this event recently when I was forwarded an article in Bloomberg stating that Bud Light’s sales have never fully recovered, despite their partnership with the virile oaf Shane Gillis.

Considering the timeline here is done by quarters, the sharp decline between Q1 and Q2 is likely the organic response to the new marketing, but the “official” backlash began in earnest at Q2.

I am sent these updates periodically because when this controversy grew through the cracks of our concrete into the warm sunlight of mainstream awareness, I advocated that the heat ought to be kept on Bud Light. All too often the cultural critics witness a negative reaction to something they despise, celebrate a victorious skirmish, and immediately stand down. I posited that the boycott – in reality a mass abandonment of the brand, as the consumers were not organized – must persist to send a message. They must be made an example of, so egregious was the affront.

Of course I wasn’t going to organize any of this myself; I just started watching The Shield.

Readers might recall that the shift towards progressive-stacked influencers was not the result of an even spread across all alternative media as is often reported, but the ambitious plan of Bud Light’s marketing department to break into new markets and (I am certain this word was used in the creative meetings) evolve past their (I am also certain this term was used) stale, pale, and male legacy consumer base. To cut a long story short, White Boy Summer kicked the door down and screamed go screw, girls drool, wooden doors, TND, etc.

What is beer to me? It’s dealing with crushing bureaucracy by being silly with my wife alone in our Millennial Gray home.

The quest for victory can become an intoxicant insofar as those possessed by it often settle for mere fixes rather than the, and only I now realize this metaphor has gotten away from me, let’s say Island Made of Heroin. What did he mean by this, good question: what I mean is that we expect our enemies to admit defeat earlier than victory is assured.

How do you teach a corporation anything at all? If you have ever worked inside one, you will be aware that there is a multitude of rationalities for failure conjured in the interest of saving jobs and maintaining structural integrity, especially within the executive class. The uninitiated would be amazed how frequently the boardroom simply accepts “I hear we are going into a recession” as sufficient wallpaper to cover any gaping hole. One might also cite sunk cost fallacy as the reason Gillette refuses to admit failure over their inexplicable hostility towards their loyal customers.

Despite all this, suffer they have, and the penalties have sustained for Bud Light. Cries throughout This Thing of Ours rang out proudly, “Dimes Vindicated Once Again,” “Being Correct is Back,” “I do like and I do subscribe, share even!” To my fellow good men and the frankly shockingly high percentage of females who consume this content, I say belay; we must tarry… for a time.

The challenge presented to us, the Psychos That Matter, is thus: how can we be an even more deeply sunk cost? How can we be a crater? How can we never be priced in?

Make no mistake, I do not ask these questions in an attempt to whip together a new movement. The Dissident Right is not a movement, it is a pressure cooker, or more accurately a mosh pit. What we offer onlookers is energy and internal combustion. Over time it is destined to draw these outsiders in, and it will threaten to overtake the main show around the nucleus of, and I now understand this metaphor has wandered into the weeds, I guess bullet time judo. Opposing the implied consensus, we don’t need to unite on a shared vision. One could even say the discourse is primarily driven by our most incandescent certifiably insane. We have no shortage of exiled academics and fringe prettyboys conducting plastic surgery on this emergent organism, but if their scalpels dig too deep they will drown us all in blood. For this reason, I am in no way suggesting a fracturing of imagined cohesion when I say that we need our most unhinged to rise to the occasion to become our most meticulous.

Bullies are the bones of this thing, and they must be empowered. My utopia is one where they are also traumatized with drugs and spells, but I am trying to make these articles more audience friendly.   

As the center of gravity of this space deepens, more of our disaffected enemies will sulk towards us. Their experiments in mass migration having failed, their blind forays into transgender normalizing resulting only in tears, their dalliances with Turbo Liberalism leaving them wandering like trashed and lacerated zombies, they will gravitate into our space in search of some form of sanity. You have likely already witnessed this with familiar faces freshly friendly to the rhetoric they previously wanted punished with the full weight of the state; like Bud Light they wish to avert course without admitting fault. We assume that the humiliation subroutines are already operating within them.

As our talking points are adopted – pickpocketed – by the mainstream and even our most controversial dopes enjoy mass exposure, we will detect the reverberations of precipitating victory in the air. This acceptance is an important step, since even the most aristocratic amongst us realize that they require the biomass to prop up their prestige, and Elite theorists would do well to remember the primary lesson of Machiavelli’s “The Prince” could be interpreted as a 16th century “How to Win Friends and Influence People”: at the outset, one must acquiesce to the existing hierarchy of power and ingratiate oneself to survive even as they dominate. In other words, the consent (even love) of the people is essential to supreme influence. Ingratiation, on the other hand, can quickly lead to absorption, and ultimately slavery. Proximity to the status quo has the tendency to corrupt the peripheral organism, so eager it is to slice off its irregularities to please the center of power.

It’s for that reason you need to think carefully about the secret intentions of people who just recently entered ranks. Consider how much you have been infiltrated during the negotiation, how deeply the abyss has stared into you. We must consider more filters rather than fewer.

In the case of Bud Light, they want their audience back and they think they can achieve this by ceasing their degenerate actions, assuming we will forget this was a detailed plan from its inception. It is not enough to be punished through public failure: offenders must be morphed into advocates against their previous position as the price of readmission into our world. They must be completely inverted, just as an abortion advocate seeking redemption must become a proselytizing pro-natalist, or to put a finer point on it, advocacy in favor of transgenderism must become vehement advocacy against it, with the exact same planning, ambition, and investment applied.

There must first be sacrifice, and the loss of revenue does not count. Like the female pitbull owner mauled by her furbabies or the Open-Borders pamphleteer who ends up sexually assaulted by subject of their cause, consequences are not the same as punishment. Each crisis that drives the awakened opponent into our circle was likely something we explicitly warned against and were oppressed for our trouble.

This isn’t easy to do, and these campaigns cannot be propelled by those so eager to make friends or find a backdoor into the society that for one reason or another cast them out. Women will find it difficult to stay the course because they think like little girls, but little girls in actuality think like deranged warrior goddesses. That is how we can reach satisfaction when, and only when, beholding someone’s will utterly shattered; to think like our tiniest princesses.

The only way to be certain the defendant has learned their lesson is to correct the damage done, actions which will be driven by the transformation into a cultured thug against their former self.

You can do this at home, for fun, for free some say. You can come up with a hypothetical list of how a former enemy must prostrate themselves before you, as opposed to our current strategy of celebrating victory in a split-second and then abandoning the topic entirely. Very rarely do we revisit or fixate on stories after the Economy of Takes has inflated and burst the bubble, and it takes a bold determination to drag these stories back into the limelight. This is what we must demand of ourselves: to dredge and spread.

Let us continue with the Bud Light example: we know the Marketing Director behind this was a woman, and she was vocal about wanting to expand into new customer bases even at the risk of the established ones. To some that may sound sensible, but if you think the LGBT population is going to save your brand, you’re dead wrong in all cases. Billions have been squandered hoping that queers can outspend straights, it’s never happened and the only people who are still enticed by this prospect are particularly silly women.

What a handsome mouth.

So, Bud Light not only has to fire all the marketers involved in this debacle (check,) do so publicly (X in pirate font) but they will also have to fire the majority of their female employees. They must publicly admit they let a silly lady get into their heads and get them all twisted around, but the boys are back, and all these extra pillows are going straight into the trash. Women are over. Women is going away.

This should be done before a council, ideally streamed online and whatever cable channel people still watch. A public trial where records are taken and verdicts are meted out. There is probably some reality show where two gay men try to sell a house to their adopted baby, this can slide right in there. Promises will be made to create new messaging to broadcast endorsements of their working class roots, buttressed against resounding condemnation of the transgender delirium. They will invest a quarter of a million dollars into ensuring Taylor Swift is impregnated by a White man who has never typed a single word on the internet. They have the liquid capital to achieve this.

The trauma of humiliation will be the furnace within which we hammer our oppressors into the new vanguard. Bud Light’s next campaign is Shane Gillis explaining that “trannies shouldn’t drink beer because they just go and molest more children.” His words, not mine.

This is all achievable within your lifetime if you possess the gumption of balls to reach out and grasp it. Right now it has assumed the form of a consumer revolt, but the essence of this whole affair must be retained as precious diesel. All that is required is you stick with these stories, turn your vindication into harassment and then systematize that harassment with whatever technic you can muster. Most importantly of all, you must elect those from your sector with the coldest of hearts and the most sun-bleached souls to carry out this critical task.

We define the terms of success, and the corporation is a wonderful approximation of the human animal in the sense it has boundless internal resources to avoid admitting culpability, ensuring it never learns anything from its mistakes. The dynamics of the negotiation are never equal, and for too long revolutionaries and reformers alike have been called to the table ultimately permitting themselves to be stripped naked and enslaved.

The fight is over not when our enemies clandestinely admit failure, but when they turn to us to chart the arduous path to reconciliation, eager to hear our strategy. Victory only comes when we are happy, and I see far too many people smiling.

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