The Simple Pleasure of a Good Cigar and a Stiff Drink
While it gives me no pleasure to document the ongoing decline and disintegration of the West and the waist-deep bullshit the average man has to wade through from the propaganda ministry on a daily basis, I must admit I’m happier now than I’ve ever been.
I learned to let things go.
Writing is my catharsis, where I let it all out. After that, I return to my daily life trying to make it as pleasurable and worthwhile as I can now that I’ve freed myself from both the prison of the mind and debt slavery.
One of the simplest and most satisfying pleasures is heading down to the beach when I’m in the Caribbean, or a scenic overlook when I’m stateside, with a bottle of red wine and a quality cigar in tow. In the Caribbean, naturally I avail myself of the hand-rolled Cuban cigars available on nearly every street corner. I also enjoy a nice, stiff Caipirinha if I don’t take the bottle of wine with me. This is an experience that costs maybe a few bucks and brings me great pleasure.
Stateside, a $20 bottle of wine and a $10 cigar will do. It’s the pleasure only a dedicated minimalist can appreciate.
I was never too interested in the vivisecting world of cigar, wine, and liquor snobbery that pervades the materialistic West. The simple pleasure of doing something for the fun of it seems lost on the poseurs, constantly trying to one-up each other with their competitive conversations and conspicuous consumption. The real talent comes from being able to enjoy both the high and the low experiences in life, something these guys will never know.
I have more fun spending $5 abroad than they can have spending $500…never realizing it’s not about how much money a man spends but his state of mind.
Sitting under the cove palms, listening to the crackle of motorcycles in the distance, watching the waves crest then splash ashore, enjoying watching children play at the beach, and appreciating my newfound freedom away from the corporate plantation are some of the happiest experiences a Red Pill man can have.
And, unlike my life as a citizen turned migrant worker in the States when I’m accumulating money for my next set of adventures abroad, when I’m truly “home” on the lush Samaná peninsula, most days I can wander around and find a chica who’s ready and willing to have some adult fun with me.
What could be better? Feeling good after smoking some rich, unfiltered tobacco, a nice buzz, and a satisfying sexual release with a dark-skinned hottie? The stress melts, and I cherish the simplicity of being able to do this more than I ever did the Gilded Cage of materialism I found myself in during my 20s.
What’s your pleasure?
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