The State of the Stack

For November

November, a month of upheaval, a crucible of transformation. I was cast out unceremoniously by the Bugman—a shadowy figure of mediocrity masquerading as authority. The irony bites: lesser men wielding power over those who surpass them. It stings, yes, but it galvanizes. Such is the way of the world for those who dare to rise above its mediocrity. From this loss, I have gained a new frontier, a new horizon, and a renewed determination to pursue my chief aim: a life lived on my own terms.

To live as the master of one’s fate is not merely a goal; it is the Will to Power manifest. It is to choose what you do, where you do it, and with whom—all while securing the unassailable freedom and prosperity to make those choices without compromise. This is no pipe dream but a deliberate path, one paved with responsibility, not blame.

Blame is the currency of the weak. It is the abdication of agency, the cry of the herd: “It was done to me!” Responsibility, on the other hand, is the hallmark of the strong. It declares: “I shall do something about it!” To take responsibility is to seize the reins of fate, to wrest control from the indifferent universe, and to create meaning where none existed. The difference lies not in circumstance but in response—one wallows in helplessness; the other ascends through action.

In this vein, Howard Roark, the architect of The Fountainhead, serves as a kindred spirit and a guide. Roark, misunderstood and maligned by the collective, stands alone against the tide of mediocrity. He refuses to compromise his vision or his integrity for the whims of the masses. When others clamor for conformity, Roark asserts his individuality, his sovereignty. His journey is not about pleasing others or bending to their will—it is about self-reliance, the ultimate form of responsibility.

In his climactic speech, Roark declares that the creator does not live for others. He creates because he must, because his work is an extension of his being. To Roark, altruism—the demand to sacrifice oneself for the collective—is the antithesis of greatness. It is the poison of collectivism, which seeks to subjugate the individual to the herd. Communism, socialism, and all their insidious siblings whisper of equality but demand submission. They kill the spirit of the creator, the innovator, the Übermensch.

And so, I suggest The Fountainhead as the inaugural text of the Anti-Library Book Club. It is a testament to self-reliance and a rejection of the false gods of altruism. Roark’s story is a battle cry for those who seek to create, to stand apart, and to live authentically. It reminds us that to compromise one’s vision is to die a little, to sacrifice the sacred for the profane.

Altruism, in its most corrupted form, asks us to become nothing so that others might become something. It cloaks itself in morality but demands the destruction of the individual. It aligns with collectivism, the great enemy of freedom and excellence. To resist it is not selfishness; it is the highest form of self-respect.

This is the path I walk now. My chief aim is to build a life of unassailable independence. I will refine my skills, not to serve a master but to become my own. My journey will yield the health and wealth necessary to sustain and expand my opportunities. I will build a resilient foundation—investments, a secure home, and a thriving enterprise—that can weather any storm, be it personal or societal.

Roark’s defiance, his refusal to bow to the mediocre and the malevolent, inspires me to act deliberately. I will shape my life with unassailable self-regard, taking full responsibility for its course and outcomes. No one can do this for me. No savior is coming. To rely on others for my future is to abdicate my power.

This November, I declare war on mediocrity, collectivism, and compromise. I will live as Roark lived: a creator, an individual, an Übermensch. Let those who would tether me to their vision watch as I ascend beyond their reach. The Anti-Library Book Club begins here—with a call to arms, a rejection of the herd, and a celebration of the self.

Upcoming in December

In December, the paid tier ascends to new heights: the launch of book clubs, beginning with The Fountainhead, and essays exploring its depths will reside firmly behind the paywall. If you waver on the edge of commitment, now is the moment to leap. Parapolitics essays and other unflinching dissections of this age’s decadence will also retreat to the inner sanctum, where the rot of the altruistic bug-men can be exposed with unrelenting clarity. There, I will name the enemy with a precision unsuited for the open forums.

Yet let it be known: the work of awakening—of becoming who we truly are—remains free for all. This is essential labor, for only through this shared striving can we overcome ourselves and transcend the herd. Choose your path wisely; the will to power demands no less.

Coming Soon

The foundation is already laid: www.antidotetomagicalthinking.com stands ready, a gateway to what is to come. The work has begun to construct a course that fulfills the vision my mentor, Dr. Christopher Hyatt, always urged me toward—a vision not for the faint-hearted but for those willing to embrace the crucible of self-transformation. Dr. Hyatt, author of The Psychopath’s Bible, was a relentless advocate of a radical, uncompromising path—a push toward selfishness, self-reliance, and the destruction of the false idols of conventional morality. His philosophy dismantled the comforting lies that bind most to mediocrity, revealing instead the raw, untapped potential of the human will.

This course, born of Hyatt’s fierce clarity and tempered by my own journey, is more than mere theory. It is praxis—an invitation to live the work, to put skin in the game, and to embody the relentless will to power each and every day. For to build this is not merely to teach but to become the very thing we espouse: a self-reliant, self-creating individual who thrives in the chaos and forges their own meaning.

This is not a path for the timid, for it demands the abandonment of illusions and the courage to stand alone, fully responsible for one’s life and destiny. The Psychopath’s Bible calls for the ultimate act of rebellion: to see through the empty promises of altruism, to reject the stifling herd, and to cultivate the power and freedom that only true selfishness can bring. In crafting this course, I do not merely seek to guide others but to challenge myself—to embody this philosophy as both creator and subject.

If you are ready to step beyond comfort and convention, the work begins here. This is the antidote to magical thinking: not passive dreaming, but active becoming.

Best wishes for December

and Keep going

p.s.

An essay launching the book club will drop in the next 24 hours.