Soy Fields Forever

Soy Mass
Nature is Satan’s church.

Glycine max or the soybean is an edible legume native to East Asia. Soybean seeds are encased in a hairy pod about three to eight centimeters in length. Each pod contains two to four seeds five to eleven millimeters in diameter. Soybeans are cultivated for their oil and meal: their meal provides a cheap source of protein for livestock and processed foods. The USDA estimates that the Global Soybean Production 2016/2017 will be 336.62 million metric tons.

Soy contains isoflavones that mimic the activity of estrogen in your body. Your body can’t distinguish between natural estrogen and these phytoestrogens (plant-derived xenoestrogens), both of which bind and activate estrogen receptors modulating gene expression. People who consume large amounts of soy risk developing hyper-estrogenism.

There is a reason why vegans and most vegetarians soon begin developing symptoms of general insanity. Though these symptoms are present in male vegans and vegetarians, many of whom I would hesitate to call men, no more are they apparent than in women.

Women naturally have higher estrogen than men (though this may not be the case for much longer). Estrogen is, in fact, the primary female sex hormone and is partially responsible for what makes them women. While high estrogen in men may make them more prone to use the term ‘Sunday Fun Day’ or let Somali refugees fuck their wife, high estrogen in women can lead to a variety of unpleasant side effects.

You are what you eat. We have become sentient soy masses. I see it in the faces of men and women my age: an amorphous, androgynous physiognomy betraying seething passive-aggressiveness. Their placid demeanor masks a hideous inner monstrosity that I can only assume looks somewhat like the blob monster from Akira made of texturized soy protein. Election season was misery. I lost all my friends in college. Though I rarely discuss politics with people outside of my immediate family, they somehow found me out. I was an imposter.

The soy mass is easy to control. He follows directions, he doesn’t ask questions. He is ideal for the type of compartmentalized labor ubiquitous today. I can’t say Kaczynski didn’t warn us. Nobody would listen. However, the soy mass is able to find work and even move up to management. You won’t be so lucky. Interviewers can sniff out people who aren’t team players, people who aren’t SELF-STARTERS.

Upon graduating college and failing to secure employment, you will move back in with your parents and enter a stage of your life I’ve dubbed Interview Hell. Your only human connection will be your parents and the interviewers you speak with two to three times per week. All of your friends either don’t speak with you anymore or have moved out of your hometown and are living fulfilling lives in the major U.S. cities. You will rapidly exhaust the RPG dialogue tree with your parents and have the same conversations over and over. Their growing disappointment with you will soon become apparent as you start sinking back into that endless ocean of electronic entertainment.

What is a man to do? Nobody ever told you a damn thing about being a man. Outside of some failed attempts by your father to get you interested in sports, no doubt interspersed with lectures on how it’s important to “be nice to girls”, you haven’t a clue. You are stuck in Interview Hell, and until you make that Dantean voyage out of the Inferno and into the Purgatory of our post-industrial society, you will remain. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Without employment, without money, you are stuck in your rotting hometown. Twenty odd years have gone by and all that remain are ghosts. Your elementary school evokes memories of better days. Days spent with your friends who have all since passed into the nostalgic halls of memory. The places you remember remain but are eerily devoid of life. Above all, you just really miss everyone.

The first things to go are your social skills. Prolonged isolation does this to you. When you only have interviewers to talk to for months on end, you soon forget what it’s like to have a genuine conversation. You’ll end up listening more than speaking and your words will come out in a jumbled mess. Your solitude won’t make you more productive either. You’ll spend your time in between interviews playing old computer games and watching movies you’ve already seen.

Phone screens lead to in-person interviews where they find out you’re not a soy mass and reject you. Americans smile too much. Maybe it’s all the sunlight. I’ve always perceived smiling as insincere. Guys only smile when they’re about to stab you in the back. Politicians and salesmen smile all the time. America is a country of politicians and salesmen.

I can’t help but feel like a caged animal doing party tricks during interviews. The entire interview process is absurd. You can’t get to know someone in thirty years, let alone thirty minutes. The same old questions are asked and I give the same old responses. Tell me about a challenge you’ve overcome. I kind of want to die but I got out of bed this morning. What do you do in your free time? Post jokes about bitch Asian girlfriends and Mark Zuckerberg on Twitter. Where do you see yourself in five years? Dead in a Hollywood swimming pool.

The last interview I went to the girl told me her company was all about having fun. I almost walked out. Your multi-million dollar tech company is not about fun, it’s about gradually sucking the life out of small business owners so your founder can fuck kids in the Philippines. They promptly sent me my rejection the next day.

We must beg and grovel like dogs for the remaining scraps on the desiccated carcass of the American economy. What automation won’t replace will be taken by the billions of huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The middle class isn’t shrinking: there is no middle class. By the end of the decade the last remaining source of income will be selling our organs to Silicon Valley startups.

25 thoughts on “Soy Fields Forever

  1. While I sympathize with your position (I was a NEET and Final Fantasy XI Paladin before my father kicked me out), it’s not really quite as dire as you make it out to be. From your post on Guild Wars, I gather you live in California. Well, the unemployment rate in South Dakota is 2.8%. It’s not that far from California, and there no one really cares what your political outlook is as long as you can do the job. I’m not saying you need to be a coal miner; there are IT/accounting/etc. jobs to be had too.

    And then there’s the military. Judging from your writing ability, you probably have a college degree. Why not look into commission in the Air Force or Navy (assuming you are a sane person and don’t want to be shot at by ISIS [Army/Marines])? A commission could get you a lot of free training, a trip abroad (all expenses paid) to England, Germany, Italy, Korea or Japan, and a nice entry on your resume.

      1. Just make sure you get a commission – don’t go enlisted. And get a good job in intelligence or signals or something like that. Recruiters will try to screw you over – they want to get people in the shitty jobs no one wants. Don’t listen to them, they need you more than you need them.

        It’s not that bad. Yeah, you can’t quit, but if you quit your job where would you be? Yeah, you have to pass the PT requirements, but that just means you can’t be a disgusting fat slob. Yeah, you have to do whatever your boss tells you, but how is that different from any other job?

        The worst thing that could realistically happen if you go Air Force/Navy is that you get assigned to some rural American base instead of somewhere cool like Japan. But whatever, get in shape, save some money (tax free BX!), and use your GI Bill when you get out to get a compsci MS or MBA or whatever you’re into.

  2. This is interesting. I’m glad you posted it, I gave a couple of these articles to some of my friends–Discotheque Juliette mainly–and sadly I don’t think they realize the horror they engage themselves in. I’m not to say I’m the most WOKE in history, but I definitely know my way around stuff like it, it all comes with composure and self-reliance, not depending on anybody. That’s where the true mental health issues lie.

  3. In just five short months it will have been seven years since I moved back in with my parents, after my failure to become employed during my post-college rooming days.
    My town is exactly as you describe. A tiny ghost town that I had the honor and privilege of watching every friend I once had move away to a metropolitan city, one by one, in search of that vaunted consumer life that we’re all supposed to be living. There’s nothing left here but specters, memories and drug addicts.
    I’m regularly asked by my parents why I don’t pursue X job or go after Y cute girl, but they know the answer before they even ask. I don’t have to explain myself to them, they know full well already– but I get the feeling that they still have some small sliver of hope that I will have a future. They do not pose such questions to my three-hundred-pound older brother who spends all his time playing the latest dudebro first person shooter and seething with passive-aggression as he visibly contemplates the murder-suicide of all of us.

        1. Younger millenials and Gen Z. I’m not too familiar with Gen Z, but they will have it worse than us in many ways.

      1. FB, you’re a brilliant writer. You could write a book. It is the story of a generation: the hikikomori come to late capitalism. I have a sibling who is one of these.

        The only thing the book would need, is the grace to see the suffering, even when it’s self-inflicted.

  4. This is my exact life. I’ve been interviewing for 8 months now, while living in my childhood bedroom.

    1. It really is a form of prison. Not learning, not meeting people, not ‘progressing’ with life. Just waiting for harpies in HR to email you.

  5. I can’t tell if your work erodes or inflames my few remaining convictions. If you have a ‘target audience’, I’ve been doing my damndest to leave it for 8 year. I can’t. And somehow, I’ve developed an abiding disdain for protestants.

    Thanks I guess

  6. A beautiful piece.

    I’m a bit opposite – I’m very successfully financially, I played all of the right social games to get where I am. But it doesn’t change the essential hopelessness of it all. You have more money to get more distractions from the void, but they’re just distractions. The things that matter – things which are beautiful and pure – things that came easily to men before us: a loving girl, genuine innocence, a sense of transcendence.

    They’re gone. No thousands dollar adventures restore them, and even great wealth merely grants you the slight security of not having to hide your soul constantly. The modern world beats you down constantly, crushes you daily, and spits on your most hallowed dreams until you’re nothing left.

  7. Be careful what you wish for. I passed from graduation to Interview Hell to full-time jewb. I’m a year and a half in and sometimes I miss being a NEET. We really aren’t cut out to climb the corporate ladder and talk about our personal lives with overweight women and effeminate men. I miss being able to wake up at 9 A.M. and spend all day playing vidya, reading 50+ year-old books, gymceling, and watching obscure movies at night. Plus side of being a wagecuck is I can afford to shop at WholeJews, and I bought my motorcycle with cash.

  8. How do we reconcile muh feelings with the reality of the post modern hellhole? Im lonely and its suffocating. Money, job, education, i have it all and its fucking gross. I want to be a hunter gatherer. I want to get away from these demons.

    1. Homelessness, in America, is like a third-worlder’s Great By and By…all the adventures of palaeolithic hunting and gathering, some middle ages when you hit the clink, and plenty of turned on, masculine, non-addicted friends if you know where to look. Arcata, CA. Huge Stoic scene there, believe it or not.

      Modernity is too safe. And yet, we’re animals who seek salt, fat, and warmth. We’ve culdesacked ourselves. For now…

  9. I’ve been in interview hell for almost a year now. Not sure what to do, but I can’t take it for much longer.

  10. sell the organs we have left; they’ve already stolen our hearts. this is what the soymass is: a heartless husk. not simply heartless in the sense of being unloving and unlovable in more than a superficial way, but heartless in the sense of lacking vitality. the soymass is an utterly anemic being. is there blood in its body? if so, it does not seem to flow. it cannot muster the will to stand up straight. watching netflix is reliably its favorite hobby. at least in a video game, you are an agent.

    starved of oxygen, the soymass’ brain has liquefied as well. your parents had the right idea when they said the television would turn your brain into jelly, but the misidentified the substance. you are forced to feign interest in conversation with the soybeings as they jump topics from one netflix show to another. their model of human interaction is the verbal analogue of channel surfing. it is one of the more viscerally disgusting aspects of life in the here and now. the image of the beer-bellied bugman sprawled out on the couch, illuminated only by the soft glow of his laptop, is a portrait for our age.

  11. I hope you make it out of hell. I was there for a while, I made it out. But I remember the people who haven’t, maybe that’s why I read your blog.

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