8 Things I noticed about the Former Soviet Union 14

While reclining here in the stain-resistant faux leather sofa of my hometown, Newcastle’s, premier Cafe Nero and gazing out of the open bay windows onto the sun-kissed streets and hordes of deformed, obese and orange-coloured people my mind turned to the past four weeks in the FSU (Former Soviet Union) spent with Messrs. Krauser and Torero. For those of you chaps yet to embrace a lifestyle of global arbitrage and jetting off to various Euro destinations for well-deserved and guilt (white and otherwise) free holidays then let me randomly pick some idle musings out of head/nose and give you a list of Stuff That I Noticed about the FSU.

1) It’s very clean.

Perhaps this was just the place I was in but it was refreshing and pleasant to see streets completely free of litter and spatters of chewing gum. It was eerily clean. I accidentally dropped an empty bottle of water and ran out into the road to retrieve it, lest a passing paramiltary club me senseless. I like cleanliness and you can really tell a lot about a place by the hygiene levels. Without an army of street sweepers China would be a filth-infested cesspit within 24 hours; as most Chinese people can’t bear the thought that by making an effort to put rubbish in a bin rather than drop it they have in fact ‘lost’ that tiny piece of effort and can’t be guaranteed its return: it’s a truly zero-trust society, which is probably explained by it’s long term dabbling in communism. Take a look at Newcastle; it’s filth strewn because a high proportion of the people are foul benefits-scum. Consider Singapore: spotless; because although it’s full of Han chinese (racially) they are Chinese who give a shit. And last of all we have the Filipines, were I’d see people sitting in their front gardens in their hammocks literally tossing their own garbage on the ground in front of their feet.


2) It’s monocultural

You walk around for the first few days and feel this low level buzz of contented happiness. Is it because you’re on holiday? No: you analyze the feeling and it’s different. It’s something more low level, something more in the background. For a few days further you can’t put your finger on it but then you get it: it’s the monoculturalism! Yes: monculturalism is one of the great pleasures of life. It’s so pleasant knowing the average Joe shares some racial affinity with you, his ancestors have a shared history through shared conflicts, trials and tribulations and that if push came to shove and the barbarians showed up, he’d be beside you with a rifle. Obviously all that’s shoved down our throats now in the UK is that multiculturalism is good just because. I challenge most Londoner’s to travel abroad and enjoy the age-old benefits and pleasures of everybody sharing similar beliefs and backgrounds to realize which one leads to a higher quality of life.

And it’s not about being white. Japan is monocultural. So is China. And Ghana. Libya. Togo. And on and on… Have you ever considered that when moronic Anglosphere backpackers go abroad to experience ‘vibrant’ cultures and then come back and get all misty eyed talking about the wonderful cultures that what they’ve actually done is experienced a monoculture as a tourist?


3) There are a lot fewer men

You walk around and think “where are all the men?”. Several Russian tourists I’ve had on dates in blighty have said the same thing; that the most shocking thing in London was how many men there are. Walking around the streets in the FSU is weird; it’s like some natural disaster has occured. It’s pleasant though; as women, when bred right, are charming sparkles of light and energy and having more of them walking round all over looking nice and pretty and bouncing along is a thing that I’ll never get bored of.

Where are all the men? Don’t try asking the local women or you’ll get a horrifying red-pill wake up call regarding solipsism and the Feminine Imperative: they don’t know and they don’t care beyond how it affects them. Bless. I was on a date in Prague once with a Russian girl and bored of her prattle about how lots of women in Russia ‘were now smart, ambitious career girls’ I asked her why all the men are dying. She stopped dead and gave me a flabbergasted look. She didn’t know they were and she blatantly didn’t care. It made me hate her and I learned an important lesson: this is women’s nature but it’s best to avoid exposing it as it makes me hate them.

It only takes an ounce of red pill to work out the answer. Men take the emotional brunt of poor life opportunities. It’s not about poverty per se, it’s about frustrated urges to produce and to achieve. If you have a political and economic situation where men’s natural drive to define themselves through work and achievement is neutured and frustrated then it eats them apart in a way that it doesn’t to women. Everyone gets less to eat, the women want more stuff and nag the men and the men get suicidally depressed. It’s morbidly fascinating to research the Russian death rate and see the blue-pill/Feminine Imperative journalists utterly unable to either understand or admit to any other reason for the male death rate rather than alcoholism. Their pyramid of lies simply can’t acknowledge the aforementioned differences in male and female psychology.

Those men that can’t avoid it, ie most of them, have to do two brutal years of military service. They’re farmed out to god knows where and suffer. A lot of recruits turn to drink to get through it and the ones that dont still enjoy the ritualized drinking culture of the forces. The result? A lot of young guys that by age twenty three have crushed spirits, a bleak outlook on life and a terrible alcohol problem they can never shake. And there you have it: depression, alcoholism, suicide, stress and obviously sexist healthcare provision.

It’s actually karmic. The USSR has recreated the natural paleolithic and pre-industrial death rate for men and is now reaping the rewards: loads of hot women. Those poor young guys entering their national service in a way ARE getting a reward for it: they leave it almost guaranteed to be assigned a couple of hot, pleasant and respectful girlfriends, HB7’s or 8’s and then to effortlessly acquire a wife.


4) Stuff is shit and expensive

The mistake a rookie traveller makes is assuming that stuff is cheap in poor countries. Wrong. I can buy a laptop cheaper in Singapore than Indonesia. I travelled in the Filippines and all the hotels less than five star were shit and cockroach-infested. Same in Indonesia.

I thought our apartment was expensive and I couldn’t believe plugs were often held in place with sellotape or that we had a shower curtain rather than a screen door. Local girls that saw the place said it was ‘amazingly good value’.

You quickly learn to take everything you need with you. My hair clippers broke and I checked out the options at the local, state-run department store. Total crap. The food in the supermarkets is suprisingly expensive; far more so than the UK. I don’t know how the locals afford to eat. God bless capitalism and all the cheap, wonderful stuff it allows me to buy.


5) The Women are Hot

If every twenty year old Anglosphere male was given a free and compulsory two week vacation to Russsian then came back and saw the difference in quality then within days feminists would be being dragged out into the street and thrown on pyres and fat women would be tarred and feathered in the streets. The first time I went to Croatia I had a mini nervous breakdown; I looked around me and saw just how radically different the quality level of women was and inside I wept. Why! Why was I denied this in the UK? It just made life so much nicer having attractive women everywhere. They’re like the little sprinkles of hundreds & thousands ontop of a cake. Life might be tough and you might have a shit day at work but every day you’re reminded why you’re slaving away.

The most devastating thing is that after a while you realise the amount of 9’s isn’t that much different but the real difference is created by there being a lot more 7.8’s about and a total absence of any girl between 15 and 35 who classifies as a 6 or lower. You realise that virtually ALL girls have the basic genetic attributes to look attractive, provided they are raised right. Time and time I’d see very attractive girls and realize that fundamentally there was nothing there which wasn’t in the British gene pool it was just that in Britain she’d have been overweight, blotchy and ill-proportioned by age seventeen. She’d have had years of junk food and alcohol abuse, bad diet and lack of exercise. Her hardened attitude would have raised her T and dropped her O levels and it’d have shown. She’d be a fat, orange, tatooed horror dressed in velour, low-hanging jogging bottoms and Ugg boots.

In summary in my opinion there are more hot women because of a combination of the following factors: genetics, economics, national diet and of course the biggie, the market forces at play in the sexual market-place.


6) Nightclubs are as your teenage self dreamed they were

When you’re a naive, young chump in the UK you believe that nightclubs are “where all the hot girls are”. Then you start going to them and see the cesspit of  horror they really are. First you have to queue to get in and they reframe it like they’re doing you a favour. Often you get turned away. The doorstaff are intimidating bullies. The drinks are overpriced, the place is crowded and it’s strewn with filth and debris. Hordes of drunk men throng every wall and crowds of unpleasant and unattractive women gyrate on the dancefloor in cheap, unfashionable tube-dresses revealing their flabby, untoned bodies. Let’s contrast this with my experiences in the FSU.

I roll up and there’s no queue and I simply walk inside. I pay to get in and it’s expensive. The security staff are terrifying but keep themselves to themselves and are quietly professional rather than weirdly frame controlling. The place is immaculate: there’s literally not so much as a discarded pint glass anywhere. The toilets are immaculate: like those in a hotel. I walk in to the main area and the dancefloor is crowded, with twenty girls. All 7’s, 8s and 9s. There are literally no men on the dancefloor. It’s like being in one of those brain-numbing dance-music videos they show back to back on MTV Dance. It’s unreal. You walk around and the hotness level is off the radar and better still, all the guys are total chodes. You go to get a drink and there’s no queue at the bar and the drink is no more expensive than a restaurant. As the night wears on more and more girls arrive.

Ultimately it’s not actually a pussy-factory because a core difference is that FSU girls go to nightclubs to go to nightclubs and not, like their slutty, drunken British counterparts to get fucked. It’s still worth it though. You go home thinking “that was all right actually” rather than the usual feeling you get in the UK after an evening in a nightclub, which is that of feeling like part of your soul just died.


7) People are miserable

It seems like the national hobby in FSU countries is being an utter cunt to each other. Never before have I met people who are often deliberately unpleasant when they could be pleasant because they want the thrill of ruining someone else’s mood to slightly perk them up. Old ladies in tobacconists deliberately shouted at me when I couldn’t speak fluent Russian or gleefully slammed my produce down on the counter to annoy me. People walk around with dour, expressionless faces or sour expressions. Life is tough? No more so than Thailand or the Filippines but they’re happy and cheerful over there.

I think some of it comes from the national character of slavic peoples as I’ve noticed a similar, but lesser, trend in the Polish and the Serbians. It seems to some extent the modus operandi, the running joke and theme by which people interact is to over-emphasize the dour and make a joke of it. Whereas the British greet each other with discussions of the day’s weather the Russians often like to discuss that day’s interaction with rudeness and bad fortune. An uncanny amount of jokes involve people dying or losing everything and killing themselves. Add ontop of this decades of terrifying communist oppression and perhaps you learn to keep your sentiments to yourself.

It’s changing, though, and the women are leading it. Young girls walk around with happy smiles and a skip in their step and do a good job of lightening the mood and re-educating the bourgeoise that yes, it’s ok now to be happy: you probably won’t get locked up.


8) It’s pre-feminist

There’s some feminism here. Not the crazy, out-of-control juggernaut to totalitarian gender hatred and misery that we have in the Anglosphere but you still have girls getting an education and going to university. Chatting to locals, all of whom coincidentally happened to be hot twenty-something girls, they were as interested in their career as western girls were but all, without exception, wanted to get married and had a far more sensisble perception of their timeline regarding this. This comes from the still very strong social pressure, otherwise known as ‘society’, to get married by age twenty five and then have two children.

I guess the FSU bears some resemblance to the UK in the seventies. Things had definitely loosened up a bit and girls could now go to University if they were smart enough and pursue careers, but there was still very strong societal pressure to get married and reproduce on a sensible timeline. Will feminism in the FSU follow the same path and will it be equally fucked in twenty or so years as we are now? Somehow I’m not sure. The circumstances are different. The women are definitely smarter and more logical with better temporal projection. The men are definitely more manly and brutish. Perhaps this is the difference that matters?

The other wonderful thing is noticing how much less men and women hate each other. Coming back from the FSU to the UK you notice the simmering contempt that women under forty seem to have for men. FSU nightclubs are full of smoking hot girls having an endless stream of hopeless, badly-dressed chodes coming up and dancing in front of them and to our amazement we never saw a girl blowing one out. They were all politely dismissed, or perhaps an eyebrow was raised, but most were given a little pat of encouragement, a few seconds of interaction as a reward and then subtly shown the door. Imagine what these poor sods would encounter in the UK! They’d have a nervous breakdown.

Walking round the streets what I saw was men and women in harmony. The constant abrasion between the sexes which is the recurring feature of life in the Anglosphere was missing: happy couples were everywhere – normal people devoid of all the poison that feminism has slowly let sleep into the interrelation between men and women.

Happy travels!