Prologue: this shit is, like, my opinion, man. There are lots of other opinions. This isn’t canon TRP. I am not trying to crowd out people who disagree. Respect for those who differ (with noble intentions). I would like to know what you disagree with, and why, because you might just be right, and I might have something to learn.

YOUR METAL-AS-FUCK FACT OF THE DAY: every trace of carbon and iron in your body was forged in the heart of a star. That’s where those elements come from.

Bible-literalists and Young-Earth Creationists are going to have some difficulty with this post, because my philosophy on frame and on game hinges entirely on one very big assumption: we each are granted a finite amount of time on this planet, and nothing more.

Ok so the big bang happened, or maybe it didn’t. I don’t fucking know. No one does. People who claim to know for sure what the fuck caused us to be on earth are full-blown retarded. Sorry not sorry, and get the fuck over yourself. People who believe one way or another but have doubts are less retarded, but still human – and thus still mostly retarded. We all are. Humans are fucking idiots. Look at us. We are goddamn hairless apes, pretending to have self-control, pretending to be civilized. Our species is walking on a razor’s edge between existential annihilation, and the less shitty-but-still-shitty alternative: life as we know it. Basically, but for some huge paradigm shift we will be one of the shortest-lived species in the history of Planet Erf. (second only to the pocket fox).

Mini TL;DR: shit sucks for humans in general. Accept it as fact, and let’s talk about making the best of a bad situation.

Why does all that matter? Because accepting things as they actually are is the red pill. Being idealistic, wanting things to be better, hoping for global peace… all good in principle. You be the change or y’know some other fucking bumper sticker feel-good cliche. But while you are caring about the whales or coexisting or whatever, always keep your feet firmly planted in the shit. Otherwise you’re just a pretentions dick, handing out life-lessons with no real authority to do so.

Which brings me to my next point: hoping, wishing, and praying does fucking nothing. If you think that it does, you’re goddamn delusional. Sorry not sorry, if thinking thoughts made things happen, no women would have clothes on ever. In fact, if any of that shit worked, wouldn’t things be fixed? Aren’t 4 billion Christians, Muslims, and Jews enough to sway our invisible outer-space all-father to step in and fix shit? If yes, WTF, bro – where you at, spaceman? If no, WTF humans – are you fucking insane? How could you not see by now that we have to do it for ourselves.

DO IT FOR OURSELVES……DO. Hoping, wishing, praying… trash fucking garbage. However, DOING…now that is the shit right there. That good shit. That fucking primo shit.

Plan, Execute, and then (and ONLY then) you may bask in the awesomeness that you have become.

Who do you want to be in this life? Keep it to yourself because I don’t fucking care – but you should. I can only tell you who I wanted to be, and how I started pushing that boulder up the hill.

I wanted to be the opposite of who I was. I’ll spare you the lifetime original, suffice to say, shit had to be radically changed for me to warrant continuing to be alive. I had two choices: (1) Do most everything differently than before, or (2) take the Smith & Wesson Express. Dark days, y’all. November 2011 was rock-fucking-bottom. Oh you’re angry? Fuck you. November 2011 Dimes will take the Pepsi challenge against the most hard-core TRPers on here in a head to head angriest-motherfucker-on-Planet-Erf-off, and fucking ruin all competition. My whole fucking life had melted. And it was a shitty life. I was grieving a shit-stained, fucking half-assed excuse of a life…and I was aware of my situation. Hating everything that you have, losing it, and then suffering actual grief for the loss of trash… some of y’all know what I am talking about. That’s top-vintage misery. So that’s my anger pedigree, fuckers. Can I be in your club, now?

But then, I decided to just not be that fucking loser anymore. I started looking at PUA shit, I started lifting, I started reading. Gave up cable. Gave up social media. Gave up alcohol. Didn’t give up weed, because fuck that noise. Weed is awesome. Gave up DISTRACTIONS. What are distractions? They are things that distract, you fucking idiot. Distract from what? Your fucking mission. What is your mission? Up to you. Though it should include: Lift to be fit for you, Cardio to be fit for you, Financial security to free up worries for you, education for you, a skill or craft for you (and for humankind), empathy for others who are not so lucky as you. Feel free to augment that list as necessary. Fucking females isn’t on that list, because it’s not your mission. If it is you are doing this wrong.

Pussy is a trophy earned by men who are kicking ass at their mission. Put that on a fucking bumper sticker. Then send me a free one, because I made it up. There is another good one in there somewhere about pussy is a trophy, but no participation trophies are given out to losers or something like that. You think of it, and post it here. And be rad.

I didn’t like most PUA shit, because it was just too contrived for me (no disrespect, it works great for some). The old me contrived everything, and that motherfucker had to go. Old me exercised timidity and trepidation in every interaction. I wanted to BE (as in forreal BE) a bad motherfucker. Then I could actually listen to that awful JBY (just be yourself) advice and have it actually work. JBY is bullshit for 99% of us because the “yourself” part is a shit-ass pussy. BUT when yourself is a mad-dog alpha motherfucker, being yourself is all you ever need to be. It’s the “self” that has gotta change, not the advice.

So what was the Catalyst? It was FRAME. Frame was the fucking game changer, because frame allowed me to decide the man I needed to become to truly be alive. I didn’t know about frame until I came to TRP. It is the reason I am still here, and the reason I spend my precious time giving fucks about my bros here.

What’s a frame? A frame is you, shitbag. The best you. The non-shitbag you. The you that eats no shit, takes what he wants, backs motherfuckers down, charms panties off of women way hotter than you thought you could. But frame shouldn’t be faked. It can be. It shouldn’t be. You are cheating humankind if you fake your frame. The earth and our species need real men, and there is a fucking global shortage.

I decided my frame was fit. I started working out. I decided my frame was a better brother, and a better son. I make an effort daily. I decided my frame did not bow down to women or men. I became mindful of my actions and reactions, and slowly shifted my interactions with those around me to reflect that I was not someone who catered to the needs of others before my own. I decided that my frame was funny, so I started reading, watching standup, bullshitting with colleagues, branching out with new friendships – to broaden myself and have more material to draw upon in crafting funny stories or making jokes. I decided that my frame did not consume media, but rather created media. I started learning how to produce music. It is frustrating as fuck, but I believe it will be worth it. I decided my frame was not a hater. So I try to be positive or neutral.

Positive or neutral doesn’t mean dishonest or indirect. Be candid about something that is really shitty. Beat a motherfucker’s ass if he pushes you to that point. But try to make good out of it. If you say “this is shitty”, follow it with “but we can improve it by X.” If you can’t come up with any way to improve it, say – “this is shitty, but I want to improve it and cannot figure out how – please help me close friends, family, someone with more expertise.” If you have to put your hands on someone, do not use excess. Always try to explain your actions during or after. Hopefully, it can be a learning experience.

I decided a lot of things about my frame, and made adjustments. This took years. YEARS. And I have years more before I can even say I am close. I will never be there because my frame is not content, ever. My frame recognizes that there is always better, and will die before giving up trying to improve. Improve at what? At everything.

And dudes, it’s exhausting, but exhilarating. It starts to click - subtly at first. But the world takes a new light. It becomes your world. Not a place for you to get by, but a place for you to conquer. Those who have found some success, please back me up on this, some people will be skeptical.

You pick a frame, and you earn that fucking frame. You live it, you breathe it, you cultivate it. You remain mindful at all times of “frame motherfucker frame.” It is the most important aspect of your person because it defines your person. You will slip. You will be lazy and skip the gym or the mantra. You will let old habits creep in. you will revert to nice guy ways, and blow a deal with a hot lady. It’s natural. But your frame doesn’t back down from a challenge, and isn’t a piece of shit quitter. That pain or embarrassment you feel when you fuck up, call it tuition. The cost you pay to learn a lesson. Suck it up, and try again.

So you have a frame, now let’s talk about GAME. You will need very little of it, once you are at your best. TRP has some solid advice on how to interact with women, how to plan outings, how to talk to them, how not to be made subservient. But really, if your frame is correct – the hardest part is done. Women want a man who achieves – it matters very little at what.

I’ll give you an example. I know a surfer dude beach bum with a solid 8 wife who is a goddamn heart surgeon. How did that happen? Mostly because the dude is really good at surfing, loves what he does, and knows he is fucking awesome at it. People know him, he has status, he has confidence, people come up to him to say hello and shake his hand – because he is good at standing on a narrow plank on a fucking wave. It’s not like he is curing baby cancer. He ain’t a pro making tons of cash, either.

What’s my point, surfer dude didn’t game shit. Didn’t come at her with canned lines. Dude didn’t drop negs. Dude isn’t super handsome. He is fit as fuck, but you can do that too. He ran almost no game. It was all frame that put him where he is. And if she leaves his ass, he isn’t going to be any different than he is now. He will replace her ass with a younger doctor within 6 months. She knows it. He knows it. It’s a happy marriage. Frame, brah.

Game helps understand interaction, but means dick if you aren’t someone worth interacting with.

So back to the beginning. You are comprised of metals which were made inside a star. You are a fucking miracle. Not the Jesus kind (no disrespect, divine or not Jesus had some really powerful, really rad shit to say about being a cool cat to others) but the kind of miracle where it is just so fucking unlikely that it might as well have been impossible. You aren’t special. None of us are. But, you are all you’ve got. Appreciate what it took to get you here. Appreciate the innumerable unlikely events which had to unfold “just so” which resulted in you watching a glowing screen right this moment. Really consider it. Weed helps with realizing the magnitude of what a preposterous shit show this all is, but also how cool it is to have front row seats.

Are you going to fucking waste your time on this planet? You have so very little of it left. For you, don’t squander it. Be bold in your actions, seize every fucking day and make some good use of it – doesn’t have to be much to be worthwhile. Be noble in your thoughts and intentions. Live by a fucking code of honor, which is the only fucking thing that separates us from the goddamn animal kingdom. Protect your honor like the precious asset that it is, and do not compromise. Do that for human kind. Men lead. Lead by example. Or follow with loyalty and vigor.

Keep your word, so don’t give it often or lightly. Use your fucking muscles – they are insanely complex and really fucking awesome. Most everything you use frequently gets weaker, suffers wear. Use muscles and they get stronger, faster, bigger. Think about how ridiculous that is. Again, weed helps. When you exercise and use your body as it was intended, your brain works better, faster, more efficiently. You will build confidence. You will like you. You will project assuredness, which everyone will respond to. Most will respond positively.

Do not waste this precious gift of life, this fucking crazy unlikely, one in a billion trillion opportunity that we each have been given.

Shit sucks for humankind. But certain individual people are crushing it. You know some of them. You probably dislike them. I did. But now you have all of the tools and knowledge you need to be rad and fuck life up her hot little ass. If you choose to be sedentary, choose to be a hater, choose to be timid – you’ll get no pity from me or anyone else. You will die unfulfilled, unrealized. And before you die, the last thing you will feel will be brutal, crushing regret because you made the wrong choices. Or when your life flashes before you, it will be filled with accomplishment, with hard work and triumph, and with smoking hot ass.

Its up to you, Brah

EDIT:bold, spelling