I saw a few tweets a while back about “racist bodybuilders” supporting Trump. My mind immediately jumped to the movie “Pain and Gain.” Probably because of the scene where the victim says “I was kidnapped and tortured by bodybuilders!” I got quite a laugh out of the reference. Then I started thinking about the link between bodybuilding and racism, as an intellectual exercise.

I’m sure many of my readers have been to websites which are devoted to weightlifting, diet and general fitness. It’s true that you can find some serious racism in such places, more so than any other random forums one could find on the internet. Why is that? What links a serious fitness/self improvement mindset with racism? Again, this is just an intellectual exercise, so I hope my readers will give their own thoughts and correct me if I’ve gone off the rails.

So, you’re a skinny little nerd or a fat fuck. You decide you want to change, and you search the internet for bodybuilding advice. Yes, you will come across some sites that regurgitate the same old bullshit and try to sell you magazines and other products. You learn what you can from them, you’re starting to see a little improvement, and you go further down the rabbit hole. You find the “dark underbelly” of fitness sites. The “anything-goes” forums on sites that are about weightlifting, Paleo, etc…but the forums aren’t just about fitness.

This is where you meet the guys who give you great advice, ideas that goes against mainstream diet/fitness teachings. The men who tell you to eat a high-fat diet, to gorge yourself on good calories while lifting heavy with low reps. You start following the advice of these dudes on the forums, and WOW! You’re seeing massive gains, getting stronger every day. This counter-culture advice is working.

Now you start to wonder why you had to get all these great tips from anonymous guys on the internet. What about all those magazines you paid for? Why didn’t you learn this from the sites you paid a membership fee for? You don’t need all this special, overpriced equipment. You don’t need all the supplements and powders that are now crowding you cabinet and thinning your wallet. What the hell? You begin to think that maybe the mainstream media of bodybuilding, and by extension all mainstream info/media/news outlets……are lying? Maybe they just want to make money and sell products….while these guys you’ve been talking to lately are the real deal, they are giving you good info and you don’t have to pay for it. Grab your tinfoil hat, boy….you’re starting to get suspicious of the “narrative.”

You now doubt everything you watch/read. But when it comes to bodybuilding, you don’t have to take anyone’s word for anything. You can try stuff out and see if you get results. There’s no way to fake that. You start applying this to other aspects of life, you doubt any piece of info that you cannot personally verify. You see “doctors” claiming that your pecs are just single muscles, and any workout focusing on them gives the same results. But your boys on the internet give you 3 different workouts for your chest, treating the muscles as different groups. Your boys are right, incline/decline etc make your chest grow in new ways. Fuck what the paid shills are saying, you’ve cancelled all those magazine subscriptions, you don’t listen to “doctors” anymore.


Achievement Unlocked: Broscientist

You got into all this because you wanted to have a better body and be a more healthy, attractive guy. You’ve discovered that even though you were either scrawny as fuck or fat as Hell before, you can change your body. Diet and exercise work. You know this for a fact, since you’ve seen the results yourself.

You try to share this awesome information with people. You want to help the fatties and other unhealthy people. What do you get in return? “It’s genetics, it’s not my fault. Dieting doesn’t work, ya know. I’m healthy at any size!”

This is not true. You know it’s not true. With hard work and discipline, you can get whatever kind of body you want.

Then you start recognizing this same bullshit narrative applied to other aspects of life. Most importantly…race. “Everyone is the same! We’re all exactly alike, race is a social construct!” You don’t believe anything you hear, so you search for crime statistics, IQ stats, etc. You analyze the raw data and realize….no, we aren’t all the same. Some racial groups are way more violent, dumb, and prone to lives of criminality and living off you tax money. The data is right there in front of you!

So you go back to those bodybuilding forums and click on some threads that aren’t about fitness….only to discover that the other broscientists, like yourself, have already discovered these things and have been discussing them for a long time. You read all the posts, the links to DOJ and FBI data….you don the ole’ foil hat again and try to figure out why the media is lying about the evil white man and the poor, noble savage being unjustly crushed underfoot.

Achievement Unlocked: Racist

Why does the whole country go nuts when a white person kills a black person in self defense, yet remains silent when 4 black men rape and kill a white girl? Who is controlling this narrative? How fucking deep does this rabbit hole go? I just wanted to get jacked, how did I end up doubting everything? And what exactly is this “Jewish question” I keep hearing about?

This is my theory of how bodybuilding and racism have become linked. If I have any racist bodybuilding readers, I hope you will comment and let me know if I was totally off-base on any of my speculation.

This was just a light-hearted post, a mental exercise that I enjoyed. I hope at least some of you got a kick out of reading it.

Every interaction with co-workers, at least at my workplace, begins with “How’s it going?” or “You doing alright?”

My answer is always the same: “Wonderful. It’s a great day to be here at work, and I’m glad I was able to come.”

I say this because I always consider it a blessing to be able to get out of bed and make it to work. There was a time when I considered being able to work a “given,” until I separated my shoulder a few years ago and was not physically able to do my job. I was paid for the three days I took off, of course.

Most people would consider an unexpected few days off work, with pay, to be a good thing. I did not. I felt useless. I felt like a waste of space. Because I was a cripple, I was not contributing. I was not being a productive member of society, and I hated it. Ever since then, I consider waking up with all my limbs functional and ready to work to be a blessing.

Even on days when I’m tired, when I’m sore, etc….I still respond that same way when someone asks me how I’m doing. Because even if I don’t really mean it when I say it, just speaking those words motivates me and makes me believe it.

Why the Hell am I talking about work, or how blessed I feel to wake up every day and do my job? The backstory isn’t particularly happy, but it’s on my mind and I feel that there’s a lesson to be learned from it.

Saturday morning, my friend Jesse got called in to work. He was supposed to have the weekend off. He arrived at work as I was leaving and I asked how he was doing. To put it mildly, he made it clear that he wasn’t in a good mood and wasn’t happy to be there on his weekend off. He wasn’t thanking God for his ability to roll out of bed and put in a good day’s labour.

He finished the job he was called in to do at around 2 pm that day (this past Saturday.) He headed out to his truck, preparing to go home and enjoy the rest of his weekend.

He didn’t make it to his truck. A co-worker found him passed out in the parking lot. Luckily we have an ambulance at work, and he was loaded in and sped towards the hospital.

He didn’t make it. He was pronounced dead on arrival… massive heart attack. H was 51 years old.

I firmly believe that he is in a better place, so I don’t mourn for him. I do mourn for myself and the others he left behind, as we are the ones deprived of having him as a friend, a Father, a Husband, a Grandfather. He was all of those things.

This is a somewhat grim and somber reminder to all of my readers: Be thankful for every moment. Don’t wake up grumpy and irritated. Don’t curse the fact that you have to go to work. Don’t wish you could just go back to sleep. Your body will get all the rest it needs one day. Any person in their 70’s or beyond can tell you how much they appreciate each day, since they know their time isn’t too far off. I promise you Jesse didn’t suspect that his time was short.

I wonder what he would have done differently if he had. I like to think he would have told our employer to fuck off and spent the day with his family. No one wants to die at work, for their family to get that phone call.

I don’t understand people who say they “aren’t a morning person.” What better time than morning? When you wake up, realize you still have the same number of arms, legs, fingers, toes etc that you went to sleep with and have a whole day ahead of you to experience life? It can be cut short without warning.

Cherish every moment, even the bad ones. Even when you are doing something you don’t particularly want to be doing, or you have to work on your day off. Let the people you care about know that you love them. Don’t waste a single minute of this life.

RIP Jesse.

Good Evening, Gentlemen.

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted, so I had to use my opening to get into the feel of this. I’ll start with an explanation of why I’ve been absent for almost a year. The reasons are many, and all are meaningless excuses.

To begin, there was a time when my best friend McMurphy would make remarks about how he doesn’t like to write here because when he does, I just bury his post in my own posts and no one notices it. I love you, McMurphy. You’re my Brother. You’ve had the limelight for 7 months, and you set a page view record. Congratulations.

My next reason is where things get complicated. “Enlightenment” is a bit of a loaded word, but that’s what happened to me. I suddenly realized a lot of important things about life. I finally, after years of chaos, reached what is commonly called “Zen.”

Yes, that sounds like some Hippie bullshit and I’m not going to go too deep into it here. If anyone wants to know more, you can converse with me in the comments section or on Twitter. I will, however, discuss how reaching a Zen state has kept me from posting.

There was a time, early in my Manosphere blogging career, when I actually went looking for things to write about. I would purposefully visit sites like Slate, Salon, Vox, Jezebel, you name it. I would go to these pits of ignorance in the hope of finding something outrageous to make fun of, or something that would piss me off enough to produce a good angry rant. I didn’t always read trash sites for material, but when I couldn’t find inspiration organically, I would “bottom feed.”

Several months ago, I lost the desire to write about feminazis, SJWs (Social Justice Warriors), insane liberals, etc. I tired of my blog being negative. I just didn’t feel the hate anymore. So I paid my IT guy to go through my archives and get rid of all my outright racist, sexist, “bad” posts. I decided I was going to “re-brand.” Yet I still couldn’t find the motivation to write.

I realized a few days ago precisely why I couldn’t find the motivation to write. I had always relied upon anger, hate, annoyance, etc to fuel my writing…and I just don’t feel that anymore.

I was on Twitter earlier this evening and several people were encouraging me to start writing again. I’ve had a lot of people email me wondering why I haven’t been keeping up the Podcast or doing YouTube videos. I didn’t really realize, for a long time, that people actually enjoy my work and wonder about my absence. I appreciate all those who gave me a kick in the ass to start writing again. Specifically “The Man The Myth,” , Braivo, and last but by far not least, my Uncle Mitch.

I’m writing again because of their support, among other reasons. Now that I’m done with the love and Zen shit, it’s time to get serious.

Mitch and I are both coming back because, aside from my reasons stated above, the Manosphere is becoming a bunch of supposedly straight guys jerking each other off for positive reviews of their shitty e-books, stupid ads, and affiliate marketing bullshit.

We were MEN, once. We wrote for one reason: To Help Men.

I’m seeing a lot of trash cluttering up my Sphere. Roosh, who the media would happily call the “Leader of the Manosphere” is starting some bullshit “neo-masculinity.” He’s claiming that Evolution doesn’t exist. I’m scanning articles from Manosphere “men” as I decide to make a comeback, and on many sites, the fucking ads take up more room than the writing. This is unacceptable. This is embarrassing.

In short, you pups are fucking with my Zen.

I pay money for this Domain. I pay for hosting. I pay my IT guy to take care of this site. I’ve written, done podcasts, made YouTube videos, and never have I asked for any money or Ad Clicks. I do this because it is my deepest, most heartfelt desire to HELP MEN. And I have been failing at that because I haven’t been writing. I haven’t been helping men. I’m gonna fix that now.

When I was talking to my Uncle Mitch earlier tonight, he joked “We are the old men of the Manosphere.”

I responded that I’m only 29 years old and I’ve only been around the Manosphere since early 2012. He then explained to me that, sadly, the previous generation of Manosphere writers, barring a few, have gone dark or sold out. Shit, look at RoK (actually please don’t, it’s terrible). They now have “sponsored posts” so salesmen can pimp their product in the guise of writing to help men.

I don’t like the direction the Manosphere is going. I’m not gonna joke about it on Twitter anymore. I’m back. Uncle Mitch is back. #ManosphereBeefs is hilarious, but it’s time to get active. I’m not gonna waste my time getting in feuds with shitty blogs. I’m simply going to start producing quality, ad free content again. No donate button.

I will let the readers decide who actually has their best interests in mind. Uncle Mitch will be joining me on trying to right this sinking ship.

We were away for a while, but we have come home to roost. We will not let the Sphere we helped build turn into a morass of trash filled with wanna-be Buzzfeed bullshit. So stow your listicles and your “natural testosterone boosting tips” that I wrote about two years ago (and got attacked for).

I’m on the fence and I’m crowing. Come get some.

-Dr. Illusion


“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”– Lao Tzu

At 24 years of age I was awakened to find myself at a wretched and disgusting place in my life. The previous four years I had been working in a soul crushing job because I lacked the willpower and motivation to go out and find something new that I actually enjoyed. I was your typical cubical dwelling rat in the race of life. I hated my life so much because I didn’t have any real hobbies outside of work other than drinking myself stupid while playing Xbox games. I was eating nothing but greasy fast food like McDonald’s burgers and fries. I’ve never worked out my entire adult life. At my fattest I was 265 pounds and I was kind of amused, yet at the same time depressed that I weighed the maximum allowable weigh-in weight for the heaviest division in the UFC.

The UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) has always held a special place in my heart since I was a kid. My dad rented the old VHS tapes of events and we would spend entire weekends watching grown men beat the absolute shit out of each other. The beginning years of the UFC were basically an Americanized version of Brazilian Vale Tudo (anything goes) fights, aired on pay-per-view for the world to enjoy. There were no weight limits, minimal rules, and the best martial artists across the globe were invited to fight each other in a single-night, eight-man tournament for a prize of $50,000 to see who had the most dominant and effective fighting style in the world. This was orchestrated and created by the now famous Gracie clan, the creators of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. They wanted to show the world that they believed they were the most effective martial arts system. To accomplish this goal they had the smallest member of their family, Royce Gracie, fight in the tournament. They wanted to show that you didn’t have to be some muscled up tough guy to be effective with the techniques they taught. Royce defeated all of his opponents that evening controlling them with BJJ and finishing two of the three with a Rear Naked Choke in less than two minutes. This was a showcase for Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu the world over. People were stunned that such a small man was able to control and dominate opponents much larger than him.

Many years had passed since I had watched those old VHS tapes of the early UFC fights when I walked into a bar at the age of 21. On all of the television sets they were playing a live PPV broadcast of the same UFC. I was actually shocked that the organization still existed, remembering growing up reading about how so many states and governments were trying to ban the sport. I grabbed a beer, sat down with a friend, and was instantly taken in by the action. This modern day version of the UFC was FAR different from the VHS tapes I had watched as a child. No longer was it just random sized guys fighting against each other. There were weight classes, more standardized rules, and a referee that actually had the power to stop the fight. As the night went on and the beer kept flowing I found myself cheering with the crowd of people just watching these fights on television. From that night on I found myself a Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) super fan. I read up on every single top 10 fighter in each division, I went through video archives on the Internet of old fights and absorbed every single second I could. Every weekend before a fight I would blow up Facebook inviting all of my friends to join me at a local bar to watch the fights with me. When I first met my friend Doctor Illusion he would buy the fights so we could save money on beer and food and just watch them at his house. They were some wonderful times.

Shortly after getting into watching MMA I discovered the comedian and UFC commentator Joe Rogan’s podcast, The Joe Rogan Experience. Joe offered an insight and more in-depth analysis into the world that I had become absolutely in love with. One of the things he talked about that really caught my interest was Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. I knew of the martial art because of flashbacks of the first UFC tapes I had watched with Royce Gracie, as well as it being commentated on during modern MMA fights. In the modern fights the grappling was (what seemed at the time) the boring stuff that happened when the fighters hit the ground and tried to work for submissions, the kind of thing that usually got booed at live events. I was intrigued because it was a way to defend yourself and there was no getting punched in the face, something I was happy to hear. I looked up local BJJ gyms and was really wanting to check it out, but I told myself I didn’t have the time or the money because of my job’s scheduling. Excuses.

As detailed in previous posts on this blog, Doctor Illusion introduced me to mushrooms and they have had a profound effect on my life and the outlook thereof. They showed me the patterns of thinking I had been stuck in for years, truly “outside of the box” moments of clarity. This pattern was well worn in my brain like a path through the woods that had been traveled over and over and over again that prevented anything new from being grown upon it. After a few trips I realized I could do better, I could step off of this rotten path that was doing me nothing but causing pain and anguish. Albert Einstein is credited (but widely debated) as defining insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. So I can say with certainty that mushrooms cured me of my insanity and brought me to reality. I hated the job I was at, so I started to shoot my resume to every tech job I could find and one company finally hired me. After I got out of that horrible job I told myself I was actually going to attempt the things I wanted to do like BJJ, so I e-mailed the owner and instructor of the local BJJ gym. I wrote him on a Monday afternoon and he told me, to my surprise, to show up the next day in a t-shirt and shorts. I say to my surprise because I had expected him to tell me to show up next week or maybe the following weekend. Subconsciously I knew there was a part of me deep down that would have allowed myself to back out and not go if the instructor hadn’t said to show up the next day. I would have over thought it, letting the fear of the unknown scare me out of just trying. I took a deep breath, replied to his message and told him I would be there. A 100% affirmative I would make it, no “maybe” or “might” in the reply. That was it, I was locking in with my words that I would have to hold myself accountable if I didn’t perform the task. Something I honestly had never really done for something that mattered before in my adult life. I had a goal to show up to this gym and try this martial art out.

I showed up to the gym the next day 30 minutes before class and sat outside in my car in absolute fear. I was terrified of what laid beyond the tinted windows to the school. A strange group of guys that I did not know, all practicing and learning something I had absolutely zero clue about other than the MMA fights I had watched on TV. Deep down inside of myself I heard a voice telling me “You can just put your car in gear and drive away. You don’t have to face the dragon and demons that are behind that door!” but I took a deep breath, stepped out of my car and walked into the gym with a pair of swimming shorts and a black t-shirt. It was a pair of swim shorts because I owned nothing but blue jeans due to being a fat fuck that was terrified of anyone in public seeing my skin. I chatted with the instructor for a few minutes and then was introduced to a few of the guys of the school. To my relief, everyone was friendlier than I could have imagined. They all shook my hand with a smile and said they were glad I had come to check them out. We started the warm up stretches which were basically yoga poses. I strained for a majority of them since I had not done any kind of physical activity for more than 6 years and was just not used to using my body in any real capacity. We were then shown a few techniques by the instructor and paired up with another student to practice the moves. I constantly apologized to my partner that I had no clue what I was doing and felt really ridiculous, but they assured me that it was totally normal. After the 45 minutes or so of drilling techniques the class was bowed out. PHEW! I made it to the end of the class without quitting and was pretty proud of myself. The instructor then turned on a timer on the wall, set it for 5 minutes and proclaims “pair up with your partner and let’s roll!”…what what? What’s this about? The guy I was drilling techniques with grabs me and tells me now we’re going to actually live spar. Oh boy. We both crouch down to our knees, the timer beeps and my partner plants me on my back and starts putting all of his weight onto my chest. I made some very loud noises and grunts as he moved for position that nobody else in the entire gym was making. I felt like my chest was going to just collapse from the weight being placed on it. My partner climbs on top of me and I try to push his weight off of me, so he wraps my arm up, fall back with it between his legs, then slowly lifts his hips onto my elbow and I tap out. Holy shit, that was fucking awesome. I knew that he had absolute control of my body and my arm could have snapped like a twig from the pressure. The round ended after a few more times of me making grunting noises and tapping out from either being arm locked or being choked. I was drenched in sweat, I could barely breathe, and to top it off I had a different guy standing in front of me asking me if I wanted to roll. “Yeah sure”. Beeep. “UUUNNNGGGH”

I knew 100% after that first day I wanted this in my life…so I kept coming back. I kept getting my ass kicked. I read on the internet all day at work about how to get better and the best advice I found from higher ranked guys was to keep showing up. There is no one technique or movement that will make your life easier than continually showing up. Remember to breathe, slow down, to not to hulk out and try to muscle guys who know what they are doing. There were a few times in the first couple of months where I was so exhausted from class that I could barely drive my car home…hell, once or twice I cried like a bitch because my body hurt so much. With that pain, that voice deep inside me would flare up and say “You could just stop showing up. You could end this pain and be way more comfortable just sitting at the house”…but I pushed through, I’d show up the next day and roll some more. After about 6 months some new guys would show up and I could just mop the floor with them. I would tap them out at will or have enough control to where they could only move where I wanted them to. Then the round would end, a blue or purple belt would slap hands with me and dominate the little bit of ego I was building back into the ground. Stay humble.

I’ve been training Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu for over two years now. I have made some of the closest friends I’ve ever had and truly felt apart of a tribe. Also In that time I made small changes to my diet such as cutting out soda and most fast food. I trained at least 4 days a week. I dropped from 265 pounds to 220 pounds.For the first time in my adult life when I ran into people I hadn’t seen in a long time I was complimented on how great I looked instead of the usual “holy shit man you’ve gotten fat!” like I had grown accustomed to after high school. My self-confidence has multiplied a countless number of times. I recently started an actual diet to lose more weight and have since lost another 10 pounds. Success breeds success. Around a year and a half into training I achieved the rank of blue belt. The day I received my promotion I had at least three guys come up to me and tell me they pegged me to quit after my first week and were proud I stuck it out. One slapped me on the back and laughed about how I was the guy that would squeal like a kid anytime pressure was placed on me my first month and to look at me now. I can say without any hesitation this was one of the proudest moments of my life. I put in so much time and effort, took so much bodily punishment, all because it is an absolute passion to fight. It makes me feel alive every time I step onto the mats and I will continue to do this until the day that I die.

Here’s some before and after pics of myself to show what just showing up to BJJ did for me.


Thanks for reading.

*edit – I’m getting feedback from a few people that they are considering joining BJJ after reading this…if you have any questions please feel free to hit me up on Twitter @warriors_zen and I will be glad to help and answer questions.

Good lord watch out, the police of America are out to kill all black men! Or are they? Another shooting, another round of riots after the Antonio Martin Shooting. The shooting caught on film, including Martin pulling a gun on the officer – http://www.theguardian.com/us-news/video/2014/dec/24/cctv-footage-antonio-martin-gun-police-missouri-video

Were Eric Gardner and Michael Brown victims of police brutality or just stupid criminals who got what they deserved?

James Bond gets to fuck a grandma instead of a college girl! Praise be to America, the progressive land where you too can work your ass off to have sex with crusty old hags.

One of Doctor Illusion’s coworker stops by to chat about the workforce of blue collar jobs

As well as – The fall of America to Progressivism and Socialism. Can this land be saved?

Find out on this episode of Illusion Radio with Doctor Illusion and McMurphy!

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Doctor Illusion and I sit down for another podcast, this time chatting about Officer Darren Wilson’s non-indictiment, the UN Arms Treaty, and getting off this rock known as Earth to ensure our species survival.

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I’ve been watching the growing “crisis” in Detroit for a while now. For those of you who aren’t following the story, here are the facts: The water department in Detroit has shut off water to thousands of people because they haven’t paid their bill. Now these people are trying to sue the city/water department/whoever to get their water restored and their bills forgiven.

Here’s the thing…. Some of these people owe over $10,000 in late bills. I don’t have a water bill, so I can’t comment on my average monthly charges, but when I did have a water bill it was usually around $60. Considering the staggering amount of money these individuals owe….they must have stopped paying their bills months or even years ago. And the water only got shut off now, after months and years of non-payment, because the city declared bankruptcy and is tightening the belt on expenses. YEARS of not paying the bill, and now they cry and point fingers because their service is suspended. I don’t know about you, dear readers, but if I forget to pay my bills (electricity, mobile) for 2 months, the service is suspended until I bloody well pay for it. These people should be grateful that they slipped through the cracks for as long as they did.

Now, on to the part I want to discuss, and put out there for debate.

These Detroit residents are now claiming that water is a “human right” that should be provided for free. They have even brought their story to the United Nations as a “human rights violation.” I’m going to give my thoughts on this, and would enjoy hearing the thoughts of readers, as this is a topic that got me thinking and debating with myself….so weigh in so I can stop talking to myself, I look silly.

We need water to live. Life is certainly a human right, but in my opinion the right to life is not being violated unless someone is actively trying to take your life. No one is killing these people, nor are they being denied access to water. Many of them say they are buying bottled water from the Dollar Store. They are only being denied access to a service that they signed a contract agreeing to pay for. They broke the contract, they lost access to the service. That’s fairly clear cut. Now, supposing they are so poor that they cannot afford to buy bottled water either…is it then our place to step in and give them water, thus admitting that they cannot take care of even their most basic needs, like children? Perhaps, if they have no better faculties than a child, they should have their drivers licenses revoked, along with their right to vote and enter into legally binding contracts?

The US spends billions every year in humanitarian aid to developing foreign nations. Hell, after we bomb you we send care packages and help you rebuild. Should this money instead be used to provide for the American third world, AKA Detroit and places like it? If the US Government will spend all that money on foreigners, why haven’t they stepped in and paid the delinquent balances of these Detroit natives? I’m not advocating for this course of action, but it’s certainly worth pointing out.

Building and maintaining the infrastructure of a municipal water system is expensive and labor intensive. I know this for a fact, because I’ve worked in that field. I spent a year as a contract electrician for the City of Mobile Water and Sewage Department. Someone has to pay the employees and cost of materials, plus electricity etc required to get that water to homes. If 40% of residents are not paying their bills, and the water keeps coming, those who are paying on time have to carry the balance of the load, leading to constant cost increases, which is precisely what was occurring in Detroit before the shutoffs. The cost kept going up every month, to make up for those who weren’t paying. It’s not a sustainable business model, and we now see the end result. Could this be avoided by subsidies from taxes? Well, if we’re going to use tax money to give free water to some, but not others, that’s not fair to those who are paying taxes AND paying their water bill. So why not just use tax money to support the water company, and everyone gets free water? Through thought experiments such as this, it’s easy to see how Socialism comes about.

When I think of this as “my problem” I come up with lots of different solutions, all of which take personal responsibility out of the hands of the people in question. The real question becomes…”Is this our problem? Is it my problem?”

Thought experiments aside, my personal opinion is that these people need to pay their bills, as they agreed, and stop crying to the UN about their rights being violated. On a person to person basis, this is a clear cut solution. But this problem is systemic, and let’s be honest here….it’s not just a problem in Detroit. Any city that has a certain ethnic majority faces these same issues. So what is the large scale solution to this systemic problem? I’m told the poor will always be with us, and we have to deal with them. I’m open to suggestions. Since he’s the only liberal that I have any connection with, I hope Kid Strangelove will toss his thoughts in on this.

So, friends…is water a human right? What about food? Cell phones? Health Care? And how do we handle situations such as this going forward? Should we turn the water back on and let the taxpayers eat the cost, or risk the spread of disease from poor sanitation caused by lack of bathing?


-Dr. Illusion


Quick Note: I was recently banned from Twitter and had to create a new handle, you can now reach me at @GoodDktr and you can always email me at info@illusionofsanity.com. You can also reach me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/doctorillusion

A few days ago, I was at work and got a call from the Mistress. I knew something was wrong, because no one calls me while I’m working, especially her. So, with some trepidation, I answered the phone while wondering if my house was burning down. When her voice came on the line, I could tell she was in a panic.

“I’m on the side of the road, the truck went dead and it’s smoking!”

Oh, shit.

“Did it overheat? Did you see the temperature gauge spike? What was your oil pressure like before this happened?”

“I don’t think it overheated, I would have noticed, I think! I wasn’t really looking at the oil pressure! I don’t know what’s going on!”

Oh, boy. I told her to pop the hood and check her oil level. It turns out she doesn’t know how to do that. This is when I realized that a lot of this situation is my fault. I gave her a truck and never taught her how to do basic maintenance and troubleshooting. Damn.

I’m not going to bother relaying the rest of the conversation, but thankfully my friend Justin from work happened to pass by and see her on the side of the road. She said “Justin is here.” I responded with “Thank God,” hung up the phone and went back to work. Justin immediately realized the truck was overheating, poured water from his beer cooler into the reservoir, got her to crank the truck, and then put water in the radiator. While it’s tempting to be frustrated with her for not knowing what was happening, or for not paying closer attention to her gauges, the blame for this situation is ultimately on me. I should have taught her more about this vehicle.

When I got home from work, she told me “I need to know more about this truck. I don’t need to know everything about every vehicle, but I damn sure need to know about this truck if I’m going to drive it.” Truer words are rarely spoken.

This brings me to the point of this post. You need to know your shit. You don’t have to be a master mechanic, but you better know the ins and outs of your own vehicle. You don’t have to be a gunsmith, but you should know how to break down, clean and lubricate any weapon you own.

Would you carry a gun you don’t know how to use, one that you haven’t practiced with? I didn’t think so.

But your knowledge should go beyond just knowing how to use your gun, as I said earlier. The same with your vehicle, your lawn mower, your cell phone, and every other device/machine in your possession. It’s not enough to know how to work it…you need to know how it works.

As traditionally “unmanly” as this may sound….read the manual, and don’t throw the damn thing away. As my good friend Dustin once said when discussing vehicle trouble “Shit doesn’t just fail.” I asked him what he meant by that, and he responded, “While every part on your truck will eventually fail, your manual tells you when you should replace every part. It’s very uncommon, if you follow the maintenance schedule, that you will ever end up on the side of the road.” And he was completely correct.

Read the damned manual, and follow the instructions. Then put the manual in your filing cabinet, because you may need to refer to it for part numbers, instructions on replacing a particular part, etc. I know the silly trope of “Men don’t read the instructions” and “Men don’t ask for directions”and all that other silly shit. That’s just stupidity.

To give another example, I was on Craigslist a while back and noticed a guy selling a tractor for dirt cheap. It was nearly brand new, and judging by the pictures, was in great condition. So I called him up and went to check it out. He turned out to be some white collar Asian guy who didn’t know shit about his equipment. He informed me that it just wasn’t running right and he had done everything he knew to do (replaced oil filter, air filter, carb, etc). So I loaded it into my truck, brought it home, and spend $8 to fix it. I replaced the intake push-rod and set the valve lash. And guess what? It clearly states in the manual to check your valve lash every year. His loss, my gain.

A man should know how to maintain his possessions. And, to call myself out, a man should make sure his wife knows the basics of her things, as well. If you rely on things like vehicles for transportation, guns for self-defense, and mobile devices for communication…learn about them. Read the manuals, watch YouTube videos, take stuff apart and put it back together. It could save you a lot of money, headaches, and time spent on the side of the road. There is no knowledge that is not power.

-Dr. Illusion

Good googly moogly, another podcast has been published. Doctor Illusion and I break down the Michael Brown suicide by cop, ISIS beheading civilians, and Anthony Cumia’s ejection from SiriusXM Radio.

With the RSS feed in full swing there is no need to upload to Youtube anymore. Hooray!

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