I have oft been critical of the modern addiction to spectator sports, but not for the same reason as those on the Alternative Right, which I generally fail to see as anywhere on the Right of the masculine cultural compass, but merely on the Right of the sissy liberal portion of the modern political compass.

I decry spectator sports because it amounts to an addiction to proxy agency and degrades the physical and psychological autonomy of the man who, from his alienated seat, feels that he belongs to the process he is witnessing.

The others I read commenting on this—other than Donovan and Waggener, who are on the True Right—on the Alt Right call sports “sports ball” and correctly see sport spectating as a diversion of the proxy agency addiction, which they wish was focused on the other facet of human life that negates masculine virtue through addiction to the proxy force illusion, politics.

Of course, the Phony Right, the American conservatives, do not even understand the concept and hence are lost. Those on the Alt Right at least understand the celebrity sports addiction for what it is and then conveniently forget that political engagement is the alternative application of the same delusionary addiction to the worship of the actions of another.

In the ancient Greek world sports were sacred, not even open for general viewing. Women, for instance, were not allowed to watch the Olympics. This is where men contested on holy ground before the gods.

In Rome, sports survived on the Greek model and there was a parallel track that became like our own obscene addiction to proxy action, with chariot racers and gladiators becoming wildly popular, even though they remained slaves. The Romans made certain that their athletes were denied citizen status. As the value of citizenship declined the significance of this was eroded. The original idea of Roman spectator sports was exemplary, that if this slave could die well, with dignity, then you, citizen, can face the enemies of your nation with at least equal vigor and virtue.

All such models fall into corruption as have ours. However, viewing the sixth game of the World Series between the Cleveland Indians and Chicago Cubs, last night, interspersed with advertisements from the two presidential candidates—the criminal and the clown, one offering to lead us blindly into the virtueless night and the other to guide us with one gracelessly open-eye through the same sewer—I noticed the strong, bearded man on the mound for the Cubs, named Arrieta. I do not know anything about this man other than the fact that he demonstrated all of the traditional Indo-European virtues of grace under pressure, high performance in the face of the highest performing antagonist and the ability to calculate coldly under extreme emotive pressure. In our post-moral world there is no place for a man such as this other than as a cog in a war machine or in this popular economic wheel of meaningless victory and defeat as, like the Roman gladiators of old, he contests in a ritual setting with the obsolete weapons of an earlier age [clubs and rocks]. I understand that Arrieta’s purpose, in the modern scheme is to distract us from the doings of our master, whether it be Boss Trump of Queen Crude. But consider, that our master’s purpose in this same scheme is to distract us from the doings of his unseen masters and we have come full circle.

Consider further, reality, a real prospect in the masculine life of the few remaining human males in this zombie world, that you might be walking down the street with a lady, being threatened by three Dindu warriors.

If during this terrible incident, you could be passing one person who stands next to their automobile, would it be Queen Crude boasting about its small environmental footprint, Boss Trump, boasting about the fact that this vehicle is made by American hands, or the MLB pitcher, Arrieta, out there washing his car. The fact is Dindus do not attack within the proximity of such men—just in case they might be inclined to interfere. Masculine virtue casts a pall of intrinsic deterrence upon the weirdly weak savages that hunt the current subhuman landscape, peopled as it is with pale meat-puppets and dusky savages.

In ancient times people like Queen Crude and Boss Trump would have been labeled demagogues and not sought in times of crisis. We, however, seek precisely their type in our own delusional quest to affect the wielding of power scaled beyond our very comprehension. In a time of true crisis, such an attitude, whether it be “sports ball” or “political ball” will be the death of us. If a great flood hits, do we stand and argue like Boss Trump and Queen Crude, or do we act with meaning and grace under extreme pressure in a world where suddenly pulling on a rope will mean more than all the words spouted by all the politicians from Demosthenes [People-strong] down to today?