My Father On Doing the Right Thing, for the Right Reason

My Father On Doing the Right Thing, for the Right Reason (SBP)

I grew up with my Father telling me to do the right thing, for the right reason. For the longest time, I parroted it, not fully grasping the implications of it; i.e. what it truly meant and why it was important. Lately, that’s changed.

Since roughly last year October*, I’ve been on a new leg of my now 8 year long journey. That is – being able to live with who I am and slowly changing the parts of myself, with which I find difficult to live. As I’ve accumulated success and experience with women, I’ve not been the most moral or upright person. In fact, I describe it as having been a snake. I’ve not gone around selling people bridges or snake oil or gone around lying to everyone I know. But I have been very inwardly focused, selfish, and unfaithful when I dated. I lived almost entirely for myself, my own enjoyment, and my own satisfaction. If you ask me if I am or was a bad guy, I’d probably have a hard time giving you a straight answer. But what I can honestly say, is that on some level I was not satisfied with who I was. In fact, I was downright disappointed in who I had become. Though I attained success with women, it seemed as if I unwittingly traded something for it and came out worse for it. I’ve been trying to rectify that, by doing the right thing for the right reason, whether it meant telling a future girlfriend my past history or a current one, before we had sex, that I had HPV, and losing her in the process.

One of the ways my Father explained why he always sought to do the right thing for the right reason, was so that his conscience was clear no matter what happened. So that he had no trouble sleeping.  So that in his mind, he was at peace with himself, regardless of what happens. That’s not to say he’s rolled over in the name of his principles, but he has paid a high personal price at times, for this modus-operandi.

I’ve noticed while watching my Father is that his character is near unassailable; impossible to be assassinated. A reputation for doing the right thing, for the right reason, has formed his shield and sword, at times, when he’s had to battle unscrupulous people in the realm of business. In my own family, everyone assumes the best of my Father as he’s proved himself, time and time again. In my own eyes, I’ve not laid witness to him breaking his principles of doing the right thing for the right reason ever.

Lastly – it seems like doing the right thing for the right reason has a cost up front that makes it difficult to do. But as you keep doing the right thing for the right reason, the cost gets lower; it gets easier to do. Eventually it gets to the point where it’s habit, and the cost is near non-existent, as far as you’re concerned, for the benefits far outweigh the drawbacks, after enough time. In short, doing good rarely pays off in the short term, but pays handsomely in the long term.

Conversely, doing the wrong thing for the wrong reason carries a small cost, if any up front. But over time, it gets more and more costly. Often times, you do not know you’re paying for the negative consequences and outcomes until it stabs you in the back or bites you in the ass at the most inconvenient time (sounds like credit card debt). As you  get further and further set in your ways, you either reap what you have sown and it’s painful, or you can kick the can down the road, double down on your ways, only to pay up later, and even more than you can fathom. It’s a vicious cycle that’s difficult to get out of, as you pay a price no matter what. The hit to your reputation and the difficulty of changing habits, will be with you long after you make the right decision.


*Inspired by the advise I’ve had in conversation with Ace and conversations I’ve had with my Father.

Why My Father Casts a Large Shadow

Why My Father Casts a Large Shadow (SBP)

For most of my life, my Father has cast a rather large shadow.

Strongman who may have competed in the Olympics, had he not blown out his shoulder over-training [correction coming soon – I know my memory’s tenuous on this one]

0-X in the navy. Stellar career.

CEO of this or that company. Took the company from millions of dollars in debt, months behind schedule, with little stockholder confidence left to under-budget, ahead of schedule, and confidence in the company restored. One such company was going to be broken into a bunch of smaller different companies on government order until he fixed it!

Four kids, a doting wife, and the respect of everyone who encounters him.

Not long ago – he told me his secret.

“Son, to get ahead, you’ve got to get good at doing things you don’t want to do when you don’t want to do them.”

Often times, if you don’t, you’ll find yourself doing more things you don’t want to do than before, at an even worse time.


My Father On Communication

My Father On Communication

I credit my Father with my advanced (for my age) ability to articulate my thoughts and ideas effectively.

He taught me early on the value of good communication and himself gives it credit, for a large part of his success in life. As he tends to cast a very large shadow, with little apparent effort, I believe him.

One of the core ideas that he told me early on, was the idea of reverse-engineering. Similar to reverse psychology, it involves taking a sentence that one speaks, pretending one is now the listening, and discerning all the ways such a sentence could be understood. Supposedly, if someone is a level 10 communicator, what they say could be taken 10 different ways*. If someone is a level 50 communicator, what they say could be taken 5 different ways. If someone is a level 90 communicator, what they say could be taken 2 different ways. At level 100, if you follow the analogy, what you say could be taken but one way: the way you meant it.

And if you think about it – this concept is not a new one. Rather it’s one that’s not often reflected upon, at least not directly, When someone tells you to “consider your audience”, as is common advice for writing a speech, they’re telling you figure out where someone comes from. That way, knowing a certain few particulars about an audience, you can narrow down the ways they might interpret things you say. Knowing your audience can raise you anywhere from 5 to 10 to even 20 points on the 100-point communicator level scale**.

Politicians and public personalities, be they government, military, or private, all are dearly acquainted with this concept. Should one person let the wrong thing slip or say something slightly wrong – and boom – they’re under fire. At least, only metaphorically, unless you don’t live in a ‘free’ country. Nowadays, however, with the advent of political incorrectness, the average person is becoming familiar with this idea whether they like it or not, lest they draw the ire of the politically crowd SJW mob.

Finally – the most important point is that the responsibility always lies on the speaker, the writer, not the listener, or reader, for comprehension. No one can know the speaker’s mind, so it is up to the speaker to articulate himself as clearly and concisely as possible. Should the listener not understand the speaker in the manner desired, it’s the speaker’s responsibility to correct that. Rightly, or wrongly, that’s just the way things are.


*This applies to actions too.

**Fictional scale that my Father made up to explain his point.

My Father

The biggest inspiration in my life has always been and always will be my own father. He’s my first and last role model and the lynch-pin of my family.

I remember at an early age, sitting at the dinner table at a family friend’s home, catching myself imitating his mannerisms, without even thinking about it. When he crossed his arms, I’d cross my arms. When he sighed, I sighed. When he laughed I laughed.

I’ve watched, slowly, as I’ve become him more each year. I have his habit of over-explaining things, usually because the average person I talk to requires it. I’ve watched as I’ve sought to minimize risk, and eliminate it, when prudent, as he does and has advised me. I’ve slowly picked up on his values and bit by bit am adopting them as my own. Loyalty and honesty are what my Father values above all else, save his own family.

Hell, even my mentors share my Father’s values and one in particular, who’s like a Father to me, even shares an eerily similar backstory.

Should I grow up to become even half the man he is, my life will probably be a success close to my wildest dreams.

In honor of him, I’ll post about him this week, if not every day, at least today, Wednesday, and Friday.


Requiescat In Pace

Earlier this week, I found out that an old friend of mine, Mitch Sturges, committed suicide.

Requiescat in pace 0 (SBP)

I hadn’t had a good conversation with him since April last year, and now I feel terrible about that. I didn’t leave things on a good note, and now I’ll never have the chance to.

The least I can do, however, is tell a piece of Mitch’s story, and why he is important to me.

Four years ago, first serious girlfriend, who I’d been dating long distance for a little over a year, broke up with me right before my final exams. I was devastated. Morose. Hopeless. This was to be the true beginning of my journey. Had I not had help, I shudder to think of what might have been.

Mitch, was that help. I’d been reading his blog, Veritas Aculeus – The Truth Hurts, for months in 2011. After reading a post of his about his dealings with a submissive lawyeress, I emailed him asking for advice about that. He was Simon Rierdon, then.

Requiescat in pace 8 (SBP)

A while later – I emailed him asking for help, after my girlfriend had broken up with me. I was inconsolable. My parents offered their sympathies and some help, but there was only so much they could do. I didn’t know where else to which I could turn.

Requiescat in pace 1 (SBP)

Requiescat in pace 2 (SBP)

Requiescat in pace 3 (SBP)

Requiescat in pace 4 (SBP)

Between May 2012 and December 2012, Mitch and I exchanged at least 72 emails, most of which I sent.

He took me under his wing, answered all of my questions. Messed with my head a little. Called me on the phone, took my calls. We’d often have phone conversations that would last three hours or more. Eventually, he switched over from Veritas Aculeus to Apocalypse Cometh and remade himself as Bill Powell. He would comment on my fledgling blog, in various names, offering encouragement and advice. He would link to my blog, sending views to my way. He’d talk about posts he liked, I’d talk about posts of his I liked. Hell, he even offered my blog legal protection. The copyright of my blog, the “footer”, which I need to update, was his own:

Requiescat in pace 7 (SBP)

Talking to him gave me a sense of hope I had lost, and made me feel like I was not crazy. That was a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time.

He introduced me to a lot of different blogs and got me in touch with a variety of different people, Dr. Illusion, Matt Forney, being one of them. He encouraged me to reach out to many more, as I had been doing before.

There’s another thing I must give him credit for. My [relatively] newfound love and respect for my parents.

In December 2012, we had a long phone call where Mitch told about his father passing and how he regretted not telling his old man he loved him a little more. He instructed that I ask my parents if they loved me and make sure they knew I loved them. Despite the fact that my family is not big on emotions, I took his advice. After the phone call, I promptly asked my mother.

“Mom, do you love me?”

“Of course I do, Son.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.”

I then tracked my Father down and asked him.

“Dad, do you love me?

“Is it not obvious, after all your mother and I have done for you?”*

“I guess, I just haven’t heard you say it in a while.”

“I used to say it a lot, when you were younger. You don’t remember.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Son.”

Given that I was watching a movie with my parents when I took the call from Mitch (which lasted for about 1 hour), I was unsurprised with my Father’s response. Though it may look a little unreasonable or uncaring, it was not. I’ll have to tell you another story, some other time about my Father to explain the asterisk.

Since then, I’ve learned more about my parents. Talked with them more. Talked with them about my blog and various posts I’ve written. My love and respect for that has only grown since then. I give credit to Mitch for helping me take the first step on that path. Now, I am free to say, that were either of my parents to die tomorrow, morose and devastated as I’d be, I’d not sit in a corner, with a bottle of Jack and regrets as my only company. It’s a comfort, especially now, as my Mother recovers still from a stroke that nearly took her from me over a year ago.

Mitch, in his own way was one of the forefathers to the manosphere. In his own way, he was a like a father to me. He was the first one to reach out to me. He was the first one there for me, at times when no one else was. I miss him already. I only wish that the last thing I said to him, was the thanks he deserved.

I love you, Mitch. Raise hell, up there.

Requiescat in pace 6 (SBP)

Requiesce in pace, frater.


Why They Didn’t Get the Vote

Imagine the hottest or prettiest girl you know. Enough that you’d want have 101 dalmatians…er, babies and then some with her. Think about it long and hard. Focus on all the details of her face, her curves, edges…

Why They Didn't Get the Vote (SBP)

…stop touching yourself, you pervert.

Now think.

She’s never wanted for food, water, or shelter. A different man buys her dinner every night. Another man buys her drinks. A third man repairs her car for free, at the speed of text. Not to mention she didn’t buy that car and rarely if ever even pumps her own gas, let alone does any other maintenance by herself. Hell, in today’s world, men will even cook for her.

Besides wiping her own ass and dressing herself, there’s not much that actually does for herself…or even needs to.

Now ask yourself. How firm a grip on…reality do you think she truly has? How well, do you think she truly understands how things work or what it takes to get things done? If you took away her beauty…how well do you think she’d perform in the real world, all by herself?

Now think of the average woman. Not a smokeshow, but cute enough, with a sweet personality.

Why They Didn't Get the Vote 2 (SBP)

Now, think about it and be honest. How much would that girl truly do for herself that someone else wouldn’t happily do for herself?

…and that’s why women didn’t have the vote.


The Perfect Attitude

The Perfect Attitude

Dear Women,

jokes, like stereotypes usually have a kernel of truth. They’re also an effective way to communicate ideas and information, especially if said ideas and information is unpalatable under normal conditions.

The picture above is another good example of such a thing, though many woman who lack senses of humor may not find it educational, let alone funny.

What’s the kernel of truth? The attitude. It’s true – there’s no such thing as a perfect woman. But a great attitude can’t make up for a lot! Or add that extra sheen to the package deal, to help seal the deal.

The woman above? Her attitude is light-hearted and playful. It’s about pleasing him. It’s about loving a man despite his flaws, even finding them endearing. Loving the man as he is, not who you might wish he was.

The above woman is a woman who gives herself to a man, completely, without reservation or hesitation.

Of course, ladies – doing such a thing opens oneself up to the possibility of being hurt, if you choose the wrong man (and some of you do that on purpose!). That’s why in the past, there was no such thing as a boyfriend and that men and women were married off early.

You can’t just give yourself completely to any guy.

But you can still have the same mindset, just in a matter of degrees.

Besides, ladies. These days, you are learning as men have always known, how hard women are to please. Why not please your man? It’s a much simpler, more rewarding endeavor, I promise.



H/T for the image: Wimminz – Mind Your Language


Zodiac (SBP)

Probably the biggest thing that’s helped me out with regards to improving with women and other endeavors is recognizing patterns. Helped me with unraveling the truth of history and helped me learn from my own.

I’ve never really had more than a passing fancy in astrology. Despite this, I can’t help but notice patterns. That I’m a Leo and the most important women in my life tend to be either Pisces or Sagittarius.

  1. First girlfriend in highschool? Pisces.
  2. Girl I messed around with after my first girlfriend and I broke up? Pisces.
  3. First serious girlfriend, from end of highschool to the end of my first year in college? Pisces.
  4. Second serious girlfriend? Sagittarius.
  5. Third serious girlfriend? Sagittarius.

Those are the ones whose birth dates I distinctly remember. I may have to do a little research later. It seems a preponderance of Zodiac Compatibility Charts one can google (besides various “readings”) seem to support my experience. Below’s a few easy to read ones that are pretty similar to all the others I’ve seen.

I can tell you right now now – the relationships with both women who were Sagittarius, were the best ones of my life.

Zodiac 2 (SBP) Zodiac 3 (SBP)


Lessons Page

Lessons (SP)

Unlike normal college, you don’t accrue student loans while attending the School of Hard Knocks because you tend to pay up-front for each lesson. Still, the costs of these kinds of lessons can be just as ruinous if you never transfer from the School of Hard Knocks to College of Learning From Your Own Mistakes or the Ivy League-grade, University of the Mistakes of Others.

So, in no particular order, until I take the time to go through them all, here some of my lessons, that you may put an “old head on your young shoulders”. I’ll constantly update this page as I go.

  1. What is she looking at?
  2. Body Language 1
  3. My First Major Fail
  4. Second Major Fail 
  5. Lesson on Body Language and Fail #3
  6. Connect Four
  7. On Being Operational
  8. Operational Failure


The Difference Between an Atta-Boy and an Oh-Shit

The Difference Between an Atta-Boy and an Oh-Shit

…is one minute.

My squad leader sent me GPS coordinates, with which I could navigate to RTB with my Google Maps. I had a choice of two routes – a 21 minute route and a 15 minute route. I had plenty of time to get there by 0545hrs in the morning, as long as I left no later than 0500 to get to the parking lot at 0530 and Mount Vestie by 0545.

I woke up and remembered all the construction I’ve been through and decided that the 15 minute route might have construction blocking the path or slowing it down. I knew I should have done a route recon last night. So, the 21 minute route it is. Besides, I took a buddy to RTB this way before, so I thought I’d be fine to do it again. Arrival at 0532ish, says my GPS. Not too bad. Right before I have no choice but to drive through the gate off post, I realize that maybe the 15 min route was better. Too late now; in my haste to get in my car I left my military ID and any ID at all in my wallet at home. My GPS leads me to my turn and…it’s a median and a red double-sided gate with a sign that reads “Do Not Enter”. I swing past it and turn around. Park my car a little bit off the median, a tad in the ditch. Hop that fence and ask a fellow in APFUs where if the Mount Vestie was close by.

Him: “Oh yeah, about 400 meters up.”

Me: “Is there a turn around here, I don’t have my ID on me.”

Him: “Yeah, the turn’s not too far back. And there’s no gate!”

I should have ran that exact moment up the road to Mount Vestie. I would have been on time with minutes to spare.

But at that moment, I thought I could find a better answer than the one I had, i.e., park my car in a proper parking space so it wouldn’t get towed. I drove out and when I didn’t see my turn in two minutes, I drove back and parked where I was before, only a little deeper and not as obvious. Hopped that fence and ran. Checked my MGRS GPS to double-check where I was and then ran more.

About 30 seconds to a minute before the clock struck ’45, I heard the scream of formation being released for PRT. As I ran up searching for my platoon, I mistakenly locked eyes with a platoon trainer, and gave my name and initials, as I was late by a minute.

Unfortunately, being late was the least of my worries…my squad leader had attempted to cover for me and said I was at formation when I wasn’t…

Even more unfortunately, command decided not to take this as the minor issue it was, and are calling it an honor violation. Now, my squad mate’s career will suffer and if he ever does go to Ranger School, it won’t be with me our any of our class. Between myself the few people I’ve talked to, the only person who blames myself for my squad leader’s jeopardy is myself. The student PSG blames the guy who whispered into my squad leader’s ear to say I was there, at the last minute. Two other guys blame the platoon trainer for being unduly harsh, something with which he seems to have a pattern of being. But the stark reality is, had I not been late, the events of that day would have never transpired. My squad leader would never have had to make that choice.

All because I wanted a better answer, instead of the one I had right in front of my face.