Category Archives: Stories from the Road

Notes from a Dystopian America, 2019


Hell couldn’t be much worse than modern America

I see a pregnant woman working the late shift in a convenience store and my first thought isn’t, “Aww, a family is forming.” No, my first thought is: Who is the poor bastard who is going to be on the hook for 18 years of debt slavery and possible imprisonment as his reward for being a dad? Yes, there are exceptions and families do rarely stay together. But, we all know this is the exception rather than the rule. All she has to do is throw “dad” under the bus. With a distant look in her eye, she overcharges me for my stuff and I bring up the fact she rang up one of my items twice. She denies it, puffs out her chest, and rather than starting a fight over 99 cents I just let it go. Normally, I’d raise hell, but it’s already been a rough day as my company’s corporate credit card was declined – yes, it was fucking declined – after I had to spend all day scamming a ride from the mechanic to the hotel room while my aging truck is worked on.

Earlier this week, I stopped for diesel fuel. Walking in, I saw a young white male dressed up in his Army uniform about to report for duty. I couldn’t resist asking, “Why would you fight for a country that hates you?” Stunned, he didn’t really have an answer. He murmured something about paying for school. I could tell by the look on his face he knew I was right. This country sees you as nothing but fresh meat for the grinder, a worker bee to exploit if you are a white male.

In my travels, I visit a lot of big corporations. You know, those corporations that broadcast their gleaming, sparking images to the world. The dirty underbelly of these manufacturers of consumer crap is stunningly different from what they want the world to believe. The dungeon-like reality is the polar opposite of the glossy image. Often, entering one of these manufacturers of say, wash powders or even candy is like entering prisons complete with facial scans and demands for ID and signing away rights before entering the compound. Seeing where the things we buy are produced vs. seeing the image presented of these products in the media can be nauseating when when compares and contrasts the two. It’s stunning to see the disconnect first hand. America’s carefully crafted image is nothing but make believe.

I’ve been noticing I’ve had the give a fuck taken right out of me in my 9 months that I’ve been ghosting/working in the matrix. My mood is bleak most of the time. The social environment here is awful, no matter which state you’re in. It has been a painful experience as I work out the money to leave again. From blue haired fatties populating the checkout lanes as I buy groceries, to the snooty looks women give me for being alive in the hotels I stay in when my truck is broken down, to the Orwellian two minutes hate I see the few times I catch a glance of the cheap, mainstream media talking heads in musty suits, America is truly one of the most miserable places I can imagine. This is why I haven’t been writing as much. This country literally sucks the will to live right out of me.

On a brighter note, Candace Owens and Roseanne Barr were giving the #MeToo movement hell on Candace’s new show this week. Owens also said the closest thing she’s seen to white supremacy is the feminist movement. Indeed, feminists walk around the U.S. as if men like me are nothing but dirt under their feet. I truly despise them.

Like this article? Has the blog helped change your life in a positive way? Buy one of my books from The New Modern Man Originals section of the Recommended Reading and Viewing page or buy anything from Amazon using this link. You can also sponsor The New Modern Man or make a donation for as little as $1.

Stories from the Road: Damsel in Distress


Stories From the Road: Won’t you help me, male utility object?

I’m back on the road truck driving. For those of you who are regular followers, you’ll know this is how I fund my adventures and I’m also working towards an early retirement abroad.

Here’s a story from the road I wrote in my journal this morning that I thought you might enjoy.

A white girl just asked me to spot her while she backed up her semi that she parked the wrong way. I thought about it for a minute, then all the shit they’ve talked about men for my entire lifetime flashed through my mind as well as the use and financial abuse they’ve leveled on not only me but countless friends of mine and my readership.

So, I told her no.

She immediately flew off the handle and walked away flustered waving her hands in the air. My day is already off to a good start.  I’m making them live the Don’t Need A Man™ mantra. Not your male utility object, babe.

I got some shits and giggles out of that one. She was probably about a 6 or 7 SMV. It was kind of surprising that she was out here driving. But, you know how things are today. Penis envy has gotten out of control and women try to be just like men instead of just like their more fruitful, happier grandmothers.

I also enjoy tormenting them when I see them working in menial jobs all over the country, telling them something like “It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, was it?” in reference to their employment.

From moms to job slaves in a couple of generations. Social engineering as practiced by a sociopathic elite is powerful. And dangerous.

Like this article? Has the blog helped change your life in a positive way? Buy one of my books from The New Modern Man Originals section of the Recommended Reading and Viewing page or buy anything from Amazon using this link. You can also sponsor The New Modern Man or make a donation for as little as $1.

Stories from the Road: Motorcycle Camping at Choke Canyon, Texas


Another practice camping session

I’m now making the final preparations to head out west for my nomadic motorcycle camping trip. Practice road trips on my bike and with my camping gear are helping me refine the process so things will go smoothly once I’m in the more isolated stretches of the country. They’re also helping me experiment with living off the grid and to prepare for future experimentation with workamping.

I started with a trip to the Gulf Coast the weekend before last. This past weekend, I made my way down to Choke Canyon State Park in South Texas for another practice camping session.


A cactus plant in bloom in South Texas

This time around, I was able to enjoy a tranquil lake, take in the sights and sounds of fowl and other wildlife, and got to see cactus plants in bloom. At night, some coyotes howled nearby before making their way off into the brush. The problems of the world seemed so far away. It was just me, a tent, and my bike. The natural world seems much more appealing to me than the artificial world most people never escape, and I’m already glad I’ve undertook this challenge. Hopefully, it will show men what they can accomplish with their newfound freedom once they become minimalists and/or MGTOWs.

I now have some saddlebags and a tail bag on the way for my bike. I could get by with just a large backpack and some tie-downs but the bags will give me extra flexibility. Namely, I want to bring along an air mattress. Sleeping on the ground just isn’t for me.

The trip will still have a minimalist flavor, though. I’ll be documenting the sights and sounds as well as my methods along the way.

P.S. I got to stop at a San Antonio strip club while I was in the area. I visited MGM Cabaret just outside the city limits. It’s the only nude, BYOB club in the area. I met quite a few (mostly overweight) chicks working there. I didn’t get any lap dances, because I hate the American strip club format (pay for an unrelieved erection – umm, no thanks) but I did get quite a few phone numbers. Strippers can be fun to hang out with.

Like this article? Has the blog helped change your life in a positive way? Buy one of my books from The New Modern Man Originals section of the Recommended Reading and Viewing page or buy anything from Amazon using this link. You can also sponsor The New Modern Man or make a donation for as little as $1.

Good Morning from the Gulf Coast


Good morning from the Gulf Coast! I’m back in ghosting mode as I return to the States for another work cycle. Meantime, the next month or two will be about enjoying time on the road before returning to the machine to earn some money. That will be followed by more adventures abroad.

While my official road trip won’t begin until next month, I decided to start prepping now. What better way to prep than getting “lost” with a road trip to a state park I’d never visited before about 500 miles away from home? One situated right by the Gulf of Mexico. I had never set up a tent before last night and had never driven so far (all at once) on my bike. There was a sense of accomplishment as I successfully pulled off both.

There’s something to be said about tent camping. I thoroughly enjoyed the simplicity, peace, and tranquility my first tent camping experience brought me. I hear birds chirping now as the sun comes up over the horizon.

Spring is already in full bloom here on the coast. I saw two rabbits scampering outside as I walked around, reminding me that life in the natural world goes on while life in the human world becomes bereft of pleasure – at least in this culture.

More to come.

Like this article? Has the blog helped change your life in a positive way? Buy one of my books from The New Modern Man Originals section of the Recommended Reading and Viewing page or buy anything from Amazon using this link. You can also sponsor The New Modern Man or make a donation for as little as $1.

The Adventures of RF: The Girl That Chased After Me on a Four-Wheeler


Being chased down the road by a hot black girl on a four-wheeler beats what I could have been doing today – licking the boot and preparing for another fake news installment

I had an interesting encounter with a sexy girl today.

It all started when I was out riding around on my motorcycle at one of the pristine beaches here on the Samaná Peninsula. There were fewer scantily clad women than usual taking dips in the Maui blue water, but I was in the mood for some love after throwing down a few Presidentes.

I looked around to see if I could find a hot one chat up. No such luck. So, I messaged one of my regular FWBs on Whatsapp and set something up with her.

On my way to meet up with her at the hotel (my FWB has a boyfriend – bitches are never loyal, we’ve discussed that before) I passed a hot, very dark skinned girl riding a four wheeler. She was still wet and had obviously just been at the beach. Somehow, I missed her. After waiting around at the beach for a looker like her to show up for so long, as luck would have it I met someone blowing kisses at me as I drove by on my way to hook up with another chick.

I flirted back with this sexy morena as I passed her. I thought that was that as I sped on by, arriving at an Alto (Stop) sign way before she did along the palm-lined road. But, I noticed through my rearview mirror she had sped up. I decided to wait until she caught up with me, as this would likely turn into something good. As she arrived, and I got a better look at her I noticed she had obviously been drinking quite a bit. She began to tell me how hot I was and that she wanted to jump my bones.

What a conundrum.

I whip out my phone, tell my FWB to stay home, and end up running off to the closet hotel with this sexy black girl who immediately proceeded to climb on top of me and give me absolute hell in bed. It wasn’t long before I felt that familiar feeling – when a girl climaxes – and the intercourse starts feeling really good.

She then told me to jump on top and get my nut. It was some of the best sex I’ve had in a while. And that’s saying a lot because I go through more women than most men go through changes of underwear. After it was all said and done, I followed her back to her house (to find out where she lived so I could come back for seconds sometime) and we exchanged numbers.

I wrote all that to write this: This is what I live for. The excitement and variety of life and exciting, sexy women I never, ever had back in the States. I mean, who would expect on something exciting like that to happen on an average day? A hot black girl chasing you down on a four-wheeler just so she can fuck your brains out? Meanwhile, American women are busy deifying themselves in a cloud of #MeToo “My pussy is too good for you!” cuntery directed at men. But, I’m enjoying happenings like this abroad.

How’s that for juxtaposition?

This memorable tryst was a very nice way to close out my last few weeks here on this tropical island before returning to the States for another work cycle soon. It’s nice to know possibilities like this still exist, and there are truly sexually liberated cultures in the world. (Not the pretend sexual liberation of the Anglo American variety.)

I always felt like something was wrong when I was back home. Being deprived of moments like these in the matrix only to enjoy a smörgåsbord every time I leave proves my instincts were right. Relations between the sexes suck (and not in a good way) back home. Am I glad I left! I so thoroughly appreciate every experience like this I get to enjoy. I’ll remember many of these hookups into my old age.

Like this article? Has the blog helped change your life in a positive way? Buy one of my books from The New Modern Man Originals section of the Recommended Reading and Viewing page or buy anything from Amazon using this link. You can also sponsor The New Modern Man or make a donation for as little as $1.

The Adventures of RF: All Night with a Venezuelan Chica


A night to remember with a Venezuelan girl

When I’m in the mood to come up for air from being submerged in a Puritan culture, I can really go through women and engage in risky behavior. During a month long adventure, I probably went through a dozen women in Colombia with nightly drinking and dancing and occasional binging on cocaine.

It started the first night as I was whisked away from the airport to the clock tower at the center of town by my taxi driver. That night, I ended up in a club getting hit on by sexy South American women eager to get my clothes off. It was literally like being in a different universe, transported from stolid, work-obsessed, sex-hating Anglo America to the Garden of Eden. The first night I ended up on top of a very pretty Colombian girl who was dancing naked for me in my room while doing lines of some very good blow and taking Aguardiente shots.

I continued sampling the poon of different girls each night.

Little did I know, I was becoming something of a legend among the girls who frequent the clock tower. It seems after a few of them got a piece of action with the white boy in the fedora who speaks Spanish fluently, likes to party, and knows how to have a good time, all of them wanted to compete with each other to see who could show me the best time.

As it turns out, a girl I had only talked to in passing a few times during my month-long adventure in South America would turn out to be my most memorable experience. While I was partying and screwing other girls, she would calmly tell me to come with her, that I’d have a better time with her than those other bitches.

I figured she was just trying to get a free ride at my expense, but nonetheless took her number down. I wasn’t to hang out with her until my last night in Colombia. In the haze I finally decided to start texting her. And, she finally talked me into it. There was just something about the fire in her dark, pretty eyes when she talked about fucking me that convinced me I needed to sample this Venezuelan chica. I remembered that fire as we texted even though we had only talked in person for about 10 minutes.

She told me, “Me encanta follar, y me encanta cocaine. Yo se que te gusta los dos. Mi amiga se me lo dijo.” She was heavier than the other girls but it wasn’t an American heftiness. No fat rolls or sagging, she was just plumper than most of the girls I normally sleep with.

I ended up taking her on a nice date that evening, drinking my usual Caipirinhas (which she didn’t like, so she drank beer) only to realize after we had eaten our steak dinner that time was running out if we were to have a full night sinning together. I had to go out with a bang in South America! I originally wanted to head out for dancing, but decided it was best we head back to my room.

We spent the entire night doing lines, talking about everything under the sun, kissing, and screwing. We stayed up all night learning about each other, talking about our hopes and dreams and life experiences. We’d get high, then end up in all kinds of interesting positions sexually. I personally like to have a bitch sit on my face and wriggle as I lick her vagina before we have intercourse. (But I won’t just lick any girl. I have my own personal criteria.) I do remember she liked having her hair pulled. Ah, that luscious, long, flowing dark hair. It went all the way down to her waist.

I also remember her tattoos. And her honey-colored skin. What it felt like to be on top of her as she looked up at me with a smile and demanded I give it to her hard. And her sweetness and vulnerability. Much like my own, well-hidden vulnerability after my hopes and dreams were destroyed by the reality of the world of media and female nature.

It was a magical night, and it all seemed to pass by so fast. What I liked most about the Venezuelan chica was the fact she made me feel good inside, as a friendly, feminine, human version of the White Lady we both were enjoying. This is the point American women always miss about men. They think we just want sex. Of course we want sex, but there’s more to it than that. As any good whore will tell you, men want to be loved on, and crave female companionship and friendship as much or maybe more than the sex itself.

Before I had to leave for the airport with a nose full of rocks, she put a smiley face sticker on my phone as something to remember her by. Being the terribly sentimental man I am, I still look at this sticker at least a couple of times a day and remember the Venezuelan whore who made me feel happier than any American girl I’ve ever dated. (This is a recurring theme, as the $40 Mexican whore also made me feel happier than any American girl I’ve ever dated.)

I still stay in contact with her, and consider her a close friend after the night we spent together. This is why I left corporate America. I have been starving for life experiences like these for half a lifetime. And now, I finally get to have them.

Like this article? Has the blog helped change your life in a positive way? Buy one of my books from The New Modern Man Originals section of the Recommended Reading and Viewing page or buy anything from Amazon using this link. You can also sponsor The New Modern Man or make a donation for as little as $1.

Traveling the World Makes a Man Realize There is Very Little Freedom in America


Modern American propaganda makes the nation resemble a scene from They Live (1988)

America might have been founded on the principles of freedom and personal liberty, but there’s very little of those ideals left in the nation since the clandestine corporate takeover of the Land of the Fee slipped the attention of a credulous, sheeplike population. Those are tough conclusions most any awakened man will come to when he starts spending extensive amounts of time abroad.

There is much more freedom abroad than in America, particularly in Latin America for the Libertarian-minded individual. So much freedom, in fact, it makes this author realize just how much of it we have lost back home. Notions of “freedom” and “liberty” proclaimed by politicians and businessmen make a man who knows scoff at those who falsely promote them.

Here are two important examples of how the Puritan-derived prohibitions on drugs and sex in Anglo America have needlessly curbed personal liberty and contributed to the development of a leviathan police state breathing down our necks.


Leaving America is in many ways, like leaving a jail cell


Marijuana is the rage right now in Anglo America as state after state plays with convoluted legalization schemes. But I’m way past that. The entire Nixon-era Drug War needs to be ended permanently. Personally, I’d like to see cocaine legalized. I’m living proof a high-functioning adult can dabble in it without becoming a hopeless, basket case drug addict.

For instance, since arriving I’ve realized cocaine is everywhere in Colombia. Taxi drivers have been offering me free samples, virtually everywhere I go others are offering me free samples. Of course, I don’t turn them down. The men and women offering me these samples often do so in public areas with police presence. It doesn’t take a genius to reach the conclusion that police in Colombia obviously have decided lax enforcement of drug policy is better than ruling your citizens with an iron fist, pushing the drug trade into the underground and making it violent.

Has this destroyed the society creating a nation of drug addicts? Absolutely not. People in Colombia are healthier looking and healthier acting than the avaricious, slovenly slobs and welfare queens back home.

In fact, as Portugal has proven decriminalizing most drugs actually makes rates of use and abuse go down. From The Independent:

Portugal decriminalised the use of all drugs in 2001. Weed, cocaine, heroin, you name it — Portugal decided to treat possession and use of small quantities of these drugs as a public health issue, not a criminal one. The drugs were still illegal, of course. But now getting caught with them meant a small fine and maybe a referral to a treatment program — not jail time and a criminal record.

The result? The lowest drug overdose rate in Europe.

Among Portuguese adults, there are 3 drug overdose deaths for every 1,000,000 citizens. Comparable numbers in other countries range from 10.2 per million in the Netherlands to 44.6 per million in the UK, all the way up to 126.8 per million in Estonia. The EU average is 17.3 per million.

Once again, it seems to me the propaganda machine that runs America has been successful in making people terrified of recreational drugs – when in fact there’s nothing to be afraid of but a police state meddling in everyone’s lives, and ruining people’s lives with criminal records.

The Drug War demonstrably makes the drug “problem” worse, as any prohibition does. Anglo America apparently did not learn from its wildly unsuccessful prohibition on alcohol. Who’s winning the Drug War in America? The drugs.


Sex isn’t banned abroad


Each night, shortly before midnight prostitutes line up to ply their trade in front of the clock tower in the walled city of Cartagena. Johns select the lady of the night they want to spend their night with, in full view of police who are there to keep the peace – not arrest lonely guys for hiring a willing adult to enjoy some pleasures of the flesh with.

Of course, prostitution is legal here as it is in many countries.

And the whores here are some of the most stunning, beautiful women anywhere. They aren’t strung out on drugs (even though most of them WILL have powder in their purse, use of it is commonplace and modest in a tolerant society), they aren’t being taken advantage of as most of them earn more money than they would at an exploitative GloboWorldCorp job, and they don’t look down on men as the “perfect” princesses in Anglo America do.

Just imagine – the juxtaposition of militarized police throwing Johns to the ground in Anglo America (often teachers, blue collar workers, and professionals who just need to get laid) alongside the image of prostitutes working in full view of the national police in Colombia. If that doesn’t strike you as worrisome when it comes to the loss of freedom and liberty in America, nothing will.

Then imagine a society in which getting caught with drugs will get you in trouble, but at the same time possession of drugs is tolerated up to a certain point. That’s Colombia. Then you’ll see another loss of freedom and liberty.

It doesn’t take too many experiences like this to make a runaway slave want to stay gone. America can shove its fake promises of freedom. I want real freedom, not the corporate trademarked, fake kind: the freedom to consume. I do know this. When those founding fathers cried, “Give me liberty, or give me death!” they weren’t kidding. A little liberty, when given to a former corporate slave is indeed a life-changing experience. There is, quite simply no other way to live.

Like this article? Has the blog helped change your life in a positive way? Buy one of my books from The New Modern Man Originals section of the Recommended Reading and Viewing page or buy anything from Amazon using this link. You can also sponsor The New Modern Man or make a donation for as little as $1.

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