Everyone is wrong about sleepovers
Move over Kat Rosenfeld and Cartoons Hate Her
Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you can’t have strange sexual encounters at someone else’s house
I haven’t read any of the takes on child sleepovers because I don’t have kids. I know there’s supposed to be a moral valance that it’s bad for people to not care about The Children but most fathers don’t really care about their own kids and it would be even weirder for me to care about other people’s kids beyond wanting them to grow up to be the kind of people I’d want to share society with. If sleepover-engineering or sleepover-prohibition help, I’m all for it but I’ll leave it up to individual households to litigate. In the end, some will be upset they don’t get to attend, some will be fine/fun, and some will experience something between boredom and the Jimmy Rice treatment.
Designing Women
In general, you want people with skin in the game opining on things rather than interior designers. When I say, “interior designers,” I mean the pundit class using their platforms to furnish your country with policies that create highways, railroads, migrants, vinyl chloride detonations, foreign policy, and brief encounters between the Brooklyn Bridge and Mexican Navy—all on someone else’s dime. Two prominent voices whose names come to mind are Matt Yglesias and Ezra Klein, two people always figuring out great ways to spend other people’s money. I would add to them Noah Smith for whom there is plenty of skin and yet no game willing to bear him inserting it.
Were I king, I would give all migrants full permission to move into these men’s literal backyards where they can vend so many of the tacos I have been hearing good things about. And while it isn’t really my place as king and I know almost nothing about these men’s gardening habits, I would put down hard Substack money that I can smoke them all on landscape architecture. I could decide the fate of America’s yards, front and back if only you let me rule over you with my green thumb and whichever finger this is 💅.
You Barely Live Once
In the old America that any next regime inherits, there are far too many ugly things. There are also far too many human beings with nothing to do, and even more with nothing worth doing to do. This too is an ugly thing—the waste of a human being.
While I know very little about raising kids, I know a lot about making them. In fact, I know how you can make them with total strangers who have never met you–using only your wit and charm. Yes, you can have sex with people you just met, whose names you don’t know, without even speaking, and you can even have sex with them when there’s no place to have sex but this is not quite that essay. I will probably never write that essay because I am old and crusty and married and it’s unbecoming/braggadocious. Rather, this brief aside is here just to bolster my ethos a little. If economists can be immigration experts, I can be a Substack sexpert just like
or my fellow anon .
Back in the day, when I used to work in sales, I had a line I would use on people, especially if we were running a promotion they thought was too good to be true or had a catch waiting to be discovered. I would say that, “You want to have an aggressive marketing plan so you can have nice sales guys.” If the marketing is good, the sales guy can only get in the way. In truth, I was actually pretty skilled and hyper-aware of the many pitfalls and flourishes that can break or make a sale but the sentiment is actually legit and it’s true—people want to buy things from chill people and not off-putting sharks. You can buy McDonald’s every day but you will only remember the person who sold it to you if they fucked up or gave you stank attitude.
As I said, I’ve never been a red pill guy or indulged much in PUA stuff because I never needed it. I am not saying that I am better than those guys (I am), so much as I’m quite positive they have entire diagrams to display basic things I know intuitively or don’t even know I know at all. A lot of PUA writings essentially diagram the dance-moves of successful human interactions which normies don’t think about, or want to think about, or know but don’t like to talk about.
One of the things I knew in college and still know to this day is that vibes matter. I don’t mean astrological aura stuff although, please don’t go around being a cosmic piece of shit. I mean, sounds, scent, and lighting. I’m a sperg and pretty sensitive to various sensory things, especially sound and light which means I try to curate these things for my own benefit but find many people who probably don’t even like me are still able to enjoy my attention to detail when I apply it.
Immortal Palaces
The national makeover is not a frivolous project. It is not even economic makework, a fine enough thing when done right. It is actually a critical aspect of the next regime’s security. It creates a gap between old and new which no one with eyes can deny.
In my own home, I have dark walls, stained glass, and lots of indirect lighting. In college, this was not an option. I never had posters on the wall or sports stuff or anything all that chic. I had an automatic coffee maker lofted directly next to my bed so I could wake up and caffeinate without even getting up. Somewhere there was a George Foreman Grill with burnt cheese crusted onto it. But I also had a three-branch tree-light, a silver lava lamp with purple lava, and a computer with two speakers and a subwoofer. When my smelly roommate was gone, I used to sit in the room with the overheads off, a little low lighting and some chill music playing like St. Germaine or anything from Mushroom Jazz, and leave the door cracked. Sometimes girls would poke their heads in accidentally or not so accidentally and come in for a drink inevitably leading to our own sleepover.
Which brings me back to the sleepover discourse. The obvious take is that there’s no universal answer on whether it’s right for your kids. Some people are going to take an isolationist approach for cultural reasons, some will take it out of safety, and some will eschew it in favor of optimizing for risk, fun, or maybe just a night out while your child torments someone else’s parents.
But the obvious take for me, the one everyone is missing, is that adults should have sleepovers or at least parties that resemble them. The main threat people lock onto with the sleepover discourse is the threat of sexual contact/debasement. Well, sexual contact is a bad thing if you don’t consent or can’t. But what about horny adults who would consent if only someone created a pretense and offered? Preferably in the right, low-lit, acoustically hospitable environment where everything smelled like fresh laundry upon which you could get your freak on?
Single adults who would like to have more sex than they’re currently having should have parties that more resemble a chance to throw on some silk, eat a little pizza, and get groped in their PJ’s. That’s right. Since everyone thinks the potential to hit freak-off levels of transgression is real, here’s my proposal and menu for a sleepover-themed party.
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