My Photogenic Life Before Social Media

It seems I've lived my life at all the wrong times. I probably would have been really huge on social media if the technology had showed up 5 or 10 years earlier.

But it didn't.

During the most photogenic times of my life, modern social media didn't exist. No YouTube. No Instagram. You'd be amazed at some of the things I've seen and done. But I can't prove it.

Sure, I've got some old stills, a few low-res videos floating around, and some video tucked away in an old format. Should have sent it all off to to be digitized a long time ago. But I didn't.

And most of it wasn't caught on camera, of course. 

Then at the dawn of social media, I entered a new phase of life. I became more of a hermit monk. And since 2010 or so, it's been almost impossible to take an interesting photograph of any moment in my life.

Anyone who was in school from 2009 to 2021 probably has thousands of Facebook friends. I graduated from my very last kind of "school" in 2003. If it even counts. I've followed a few people from work, but it's just not the same. 

There was no video running the time I did 30 pushups to impress a girl in Chicago. I always hit it off with women on long bus trips. It never failed. She was on her way to Canada and I was headed home to Seattle. I was specifically instructed not to dance on the tables. This pattern would repeat itself several times in my life. 

She was too spirited for me, but I said she'd be perfect for a friend of mine. She got a slight crush on me when I said that, but I meant it. She was tall, blonde, fit and gorgeous, but we're completely wrong for each other and I told her so.

Where was social media when thousands of adoring women hung on my every word a few treated me like garbage or threatened to stab me?

During those glory days, I used to bring friends along to show them how to do the same. In part because I'd never remember all the miraculous things I did. They were almost nothing to me. Half the time, I wouldn't even remember five minutes later. It's just who I was.

But when they saw what I could do, when they saw the results, they were awestruck. 

I'd be singing and dancing with people, inviting myself over for a chat with someone else's buddies, and five minutes later, doodling something in a notebook, oblivious to the "legendary" moment everyone had just witnessed when I had everyone cracking up laughing. 

Where was social media when the band chased me down and made sure to invite me to come to all their shows?

I brought friends for two reasons. One: to show them how to have an awesome life. 

Two: Because I had CRS. Couldn't remember stardom.

Friends would remind me of my seemingly impossible feats. They'd quote me to my face. Saying things like, "Do you remember 5 seconds ago when you said X?"

"What? That? Oh, I was just messing around." I mean, why wouldn't you climb on top of a desk and sing a song acapella? Why wouldn't you grab all the girls and dance with all of them all night in front of their boyfriends? Why wouldn't you demand girls do you a favor whenever they ask for something?

I have to say, though. It really starts to burns your quads when 20 girls in a row want to lambada with you.

I became the kind of guy Neil Strauss wrote about. Without a tour, without a band, without a stage, I was almost as big as Motley Crue simply by sheer force of personality alone. And it didn't escape the notice of that rock band touring through Seattle.

Where was social media that time I went downtown and in a few minutes nearly stole the groupies right out from under some famous guyliner-wearing band. These were the girls waiting to screw the band. But I showed up in a plain white button-down shirt and for a moment, they seriously considered whether they wanted to ditch the band and hang out with me instead. 

Until the singer and guitarist came out and I was thinking, "Wow. I know who these guys are. I know one of their songs. Wait. Did I almost steal their groupies?" It wasn't Three Days Grace, but it was one of those. You know the type.

And on a night that I looked like "an undercover cop", the locals told me.

Whenever I asked, what random girls always volunteered to do for me was a little surprising. Basically, they'd do anything if it was fun. They'd do it for a guy who was a complete stranger, dead broke, jobless, and slightly overweight because girls feed on energy.

Energy matters more than clothes. Fun matters more than right and wrong, good or bad. It matters more than the plans they had to bang some rock band. 

Things were a little different then. But the principle still holds. Tommy Lee took this principle much farther in Strauss' book, "The Game". But I didn't learn it from him.

Women taught me how things really work. 

Not by their words, but by their actions. It's absolutely vital to know the difference. Well, it's vital if you want them to volunteer to give you a free lapdance or something.

Wow. Until now, I'd completely forgotten about the girl who gave me a bunch of free lapdances. She was pretty cool for a short girl. 

One question. Is that fact more amazing if she was a stripper? Or is it more amazing if she wasn't one? I'll leave that to you to decide. 

There are things I don't brag about, but being the fun guy in a club gets you treated at least as well as being the fun girl in a club. If you've ever been to a strip club, you know how well the dancers treat girls who visit. 

Well, that's how I was treated. Like royalty.

I learned how to broadcast energy on the frequency that women have fun. How to turn it on at will and put a smile on almost any girl's face by putting her in my energy bubble. Technically it's not flirting. This buys you a few seconds, but you'd better know how to to follow it up. 

You need to know how to get a girl addicted in seconds. How to become a human crack pipe. And it's so simple, I'm surprised guys haven't figured this out. 

I'd also learned how to turn women on like crazy and start making demands, giving them hoops to jump through. How to get very special treatment from the staff who were always on a very different vibe than the talent.

I learned to control a room with class, grace, poise, and with emotion. How to dial that energy way down and suck people in to the mood of a good old country song in karaoke and how to dial it up again without being a dancing monkey.

But it's so powerful, even when I dial it down to the lowest setting my animal magnetism causes married women to blush and scurry away from the powerful male charisma because otherwise they know they'll be putty in my hands.

Is this true? Or is it a mindset which creates a self-fulfilling prophecy?

And over the years I've also learned what not to do. Never approach a girl from behind. It's never a good thing. Not when she's alone. Not when she's with friends. 

The weird thing is women always treat me so well, I often forget how to deal with their shit tests. And when women succeed at seducing me, they rarely give me any last minute resistance I've heard so much about. Lean back, guys. Not forward. You have what they want.

It's almost never necessary to tap a woman on the shoulder, although I found one exception in LA. You can almost always make her come to you instead. Make her earn your attention.

But I grabbed a woman by the arm who'd just arrived. She said, "Wow. You work fast." I told her I was tired of watching all those women walking by. So I took what I wanted and we had a great time. True story.

Since learning how that works, I've done something similar on several occasions. But that's because the usual rules simply don't apply to me. They really don't. 

I learned a hand gesture that is guaranteed to make some women really angry. (Not the gesture you're thinking of.) But if a woman's angry, at least you've got her attention. At that point, your job is to not care that she's angry.

Flagging down a woman is like hailing a cab. I wouldn't suggest forcing one to stop. But if they decide to stop, things get interesting.

Women walk around like a train that must never be derailed. They're queens in their own minds, and the weak, pathetic world bends to their every whim.

I found out women in a certain shopping mall pay no attention where they're going and simply expect you to move out of their way like every one else. After about five women in a row refused to respect my space, I learned what they were doing and decided not to move. The result: Several women moved out of my way.

One didn't. Within seconds, I was face-to-face with a very cute girl blessed with some gorgeous curves who was very, very intrigued and definitely wanted to meet me.

I had plenty of witnesses (but no social media) the night I burned through every member of the wait staff. None of them could handle me, nor could they quite put their finger on any specific thing I'd actually done wrong. But not one of them came back to our table twice.

Back in the old days, my friends would take me out to restaurants just to see how I'd treat the waitresses. Which entirely depends on how well-behaved they are, of course. 

If they didn't treat my friends well, they'd slink away with the whole table cheering about what I'd said to her. Either I was Meryl Streep from The Devil Wears Prada or Neil Patrick Harris from Harold and Kumar go to White Castle, depending on the occasion. I was ice cold or white hot, but nothing in between.

I can't even catch a break when a camera crew catches me in action. I told a reporter at Charlottesville who was looking for "white nationalist" to interview "That's too bad. I'm not a white nationalist. I'm a white supremacist." She instantly did the universal "GET THE F---ING CAMERA ROLLING NOW" gesture, of course. 

I never did put my great grandpa's Bible down and referred to it in addressing every question she asked, with answers like, "The people who say Jesus is a Jew know nothing about Jesus and even less about Jews."

But once again, social media wasn't there. The one time one of my buddies should have his cell phone camera running and my buddies weren't rolling. These guys just aren't prepared for this stuff.

He seemed to be unaware of the camera even while he was being interviewed on camera. Situational awareness, guys. It could save your life one day.

Anyway, the Crow later said he thought I was flirting with a girl again and he thought he should come over. It did end in a hug. That feminist reporter sure had a soft bosom.

Like I said, other than the long hikes two days in a row, Charlottesville was basically like a pleasant picnic for me. Others freaked out and killed themselves over it or got arrested, man-handled by the mob. Libertarians had it rough.

I guess God was right about all that stuff. Good thing I listened to the Psalms about a dozen times in a row.

The interview that got me doxed (and I knew it probably would) was going on stream with Azzmador. But I knew going into Charlottesville I was going public and what the risks were. 

I guess the thread that runs through all these years is that love, patience, knowing your worth and not giving a damn what anyone else thinks is the key to figuring out how to move through the world as a man.

And if I'm gonna go to a rally where nobody's calling themselves a white supremacist and nobody will talk to the journalists, then I guess I'll be the white supremacist who talks to the journalists. 

I'll be the guy who invites the rock star's groupies to meet up with me later if they want.

I'll be the guy who insists that my girl has good taste in women because I don't want her bringing home just anyone.

I'll be the guy who parties harder than anyone you've ever met. And I'll do it in the middle of the day and provide my own soundtrack.

I'll be the guy who is an absolute legend and the master of any arena.

I'll be the guy who's so humble, I almost never talk about any of it.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg from the "play" column of the resume. Between work, life, love and travel, there are way too many stories from my life. The internet can't contain them all.

But looking at the try-hard attention-seekers on social media today, I think if social media had happened just a few years earlier, I would have been a really huge social media star with sponsors and groupies and the Dan Bilzerian set-up. But less cringey.

Of course, that didn't happen. But I still took off pretty big. By some strange, totally unplanned coincidence, I showed up to super-charge the "centerfold" of the #1 DMX-powered podcast for 100 power-packed weeks.

I guess when Almighty God was making the white man a force of nature, he showered an extra heaping of whiteness on me. 

And if there's a moral to the story, there's nothing stopping you from being more like me. The worse things get in the media, the better my life gets. The weak fall to ruin and I just keep getting stronger and sturdier and more powerful with every passing year.

So God bless and go with Christ.

And all the people said "Amen." Hail Jesus!


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