Gods and Sky-Mommies

It’s hard to tell whether the idea of modern male stock falling in love with cartoon characters is as funny as it is tragic. Really, the answer comes down to what you find more stimulating: a healthy society or the details of online autism. If you fit the profile of the subject at hand then you don’t get a say either way, but maybe you’ll learn something from reading this. 

During antiquity men and their waifus would be crucified and burnt at the stake for Youtube cringe compilations and online mockery. These days you can be an ironic memer, so to do the same now doesn’t really matter provided it’s kept within the bounds of just fucking around. The term comfort character may be considered a sort of surrogate for its predecessor to shepherd lonely millennials through adolescence. You can still catch flack from fellow travellers but at the end of the day, 'it’s all just a joke, bro,’ and the term simp eventually loses its punch. It is still fun to watch, and can be dissected of its components, lobotomised deep within the workings of an ancient psyche. It’s interesting to point out that the modern capacity to thirst before an idol isn’t unlike its archaic predecessor. The boy with the moustache may have predicted the death of God, but he didn’t get waifus and femdoms. Simping: what in all accounts is a need to impress an object of devotion, executed through man putting himself before it (or her). This may go two ways, but either extend from the same allegiance, extending intern from love—a retrospective description of an inherent appreciation for form, likely resembling some mechanism to human flourishing. All humors are integrated as of a broader movement, however easily diverted and misunderstood in the modern climate: where the individual is standard and raw objectified pleasure assumed an exclusive moral value. To shift these humors back into place, we’re gonna have to get grimy. 

What men are doing is putting themselves before an idol, in worship of its majesty. What’s prefaced is a love for qualities from which comfort may be generated, first and foremost devotion to a given form. Where the psychology becomes perennial is the degree to which devotion be concluded. In God is allowed a tie to something greater, and purer than the mundane, providing security in assurance that worship be compensated with divine return, if not heaven then moral sanctuary manifest in the fruits of everyday virtue: neighbour loving, charity work and Samaritanism. To offer selfless attendance to others is to revel in divine, if not atheistic righteousness, a sensation present in obedience to gods and earthly matriarchs alike. When Christianity preaches love, it espouses an ideology which at some point germinated from a feeling generated in isolation to a time, usually late at night, when the body contracts so humors may balance to a state sentimental. This nocturnal peace presides as catalyst to a period when prayer may be practised, and the psyche is tender and impressionable. Think about how many religions source their legitimacy to messages from dreams—a feeling as close to a nightly embrace as it is the seed of holy doctrines. By extension, the Love between a man and his god at this state and time may alternately arise in that of someone clutching a body-pillow. This sensation of security, of love for the divine is humbleness, the same piety which wears a brown robe and bowl-cut in the name of pacifism. Humility can come in the form of various offerings: through the tenderness of giving, and to a further degree, the endurance of descent. In order to prove infatuation, intense love may be delivered in the form of devotion: if not hugs and kisses then obedience to sacrifice of the ego before a matriarch, and in receipt of all to impress her. Who needs to worry about the burden of the ego anyway when you have a greater power and or beauty to worship?—stripping such a burden may prove a relief in itself. Submission to the sort of femdoms millennial men like means the surrender of integrity, and into a position akin to a child. Before a parent a child is nothing, and man likewise to God. It’s striking that millennials call themselves littles in semi-fetishistic relation to another playing the role of parent, but at the same time interesting that religions echo a notion of man before the all powerful, or heavenly father. Degradation in the name of a Skymommy echos of puritans and nine-tailed cat whips, but i’d say the psychology draws closer to Islam (or Submission in Arabic) and its form of prayer in particular—presenting the body before God, face down as a receiver—of heavenly guidance of course.

To navigate emotions in respects both trivial and professional is to suppose that sex drive, love, God, and societal structure all jive in the same direction—if so then those fetishists should really start putting down all the weird stuff and start picking up a Bible, or vice versa, or better yet: synthesise the two as a new method of practice—for encoded within male psychology is a capacity to catharsis in obedience, for God, fellow neighbour, nation or the majesty of fictional women. This primordial instinct is the glue which holds human collectives together, a faith if not immediately for the sake of man himself, then secondarily through the whims of holy doctrines which happen to serve the interest of human prosperity. What we see in idol worship is praise of the feminine, of fertility—then more: health, structure and recognition of a form to strengthen and exist as of. This capacity to societal form finds itself paralleled by beauty-forms of the feminine. Such forms are to be eternalised and set in stone, as they accompany the sandy remnants of past civilisations alike.

As in Greek statues and Indian temples, the worship of women, and of feminine beauty serves as a model from which life may fortify and flourish in all other aspects. As a manifestation, figmas are no different, but the markers of an energy diverted from historical gravity, nested amidst the safe atomisation of a modern climate. Now lost and unknown to itself, primordial lust is set not in stone but plastic to more prolific a degree and less a passion. That’s not to reject all pop culture products and argue for their customers to be systematically gassed though. Call it what it is, but to reject the worship of idols would be in essence to reject all else transcendental. If an artistic expression evokes to the soul, gravity, then tame serotonin and or libido to a state harnessable to generative ends. If man is to put himself before the glory of the feminine, navigate with skill.

Idol worship may be handled with care. What we see numerously is the impulse entwined in confusion with a pubescent subculture of masturbation and irony, to be hinted towards in meme Copypastas and expressed with a sheen of flippancy for video game and anime characters—partly as a cope to avoid complete admission to what, be it in earnest, suggests a fixation beyond the dysgenic if you are looking to maintain reasonable credibility amongst other pack members. Honestly having a waifu sings of genetic failure and loneliness—that’s why the practice derives its name ironically. Expressing such an interest socially demonstrates either brass balls or a mild communicative awareness; doing so outside of an image board is to commit a memetic suicide elemental as the laws of chemical reaction. The term simp developed for a reason: to corrode potential soft spots like acid. Personal affections become an advantage to outside forces. Simping, however you deem it, comes off smoother once glossed with a coat of insincerity, because it's harder to hold someone to 'just a joke bro'—regardless, it is there. You can downplay such sentiments as derivative of online meme culture, but its practice calls back to something perennial in man’s nature, with a potential to be understood and furthermore perfected. As for The Church of Gadget Hackwrench, once you understand exactly what a fixation is, exercise may be practised to further a conclusion, and perhaps quicker an abandon in pursuit of more proper manifestations.

The snag is this: Once ironic, worship may be exercised to the perpetuation of not religious deities, but those mechanism to such irony, as indulgent media sapping profit from attention spans partial to easy thrills: nothing gospel, but more intricate than an average jerk-off. The Japanese construct their smut with an autistic attention, so there’s plenty for roaming consumers to form guild and fanbase over—not to the gravity of a religious cult, but comprising enough sweaty weebs to mildly float memetic tides before the sun implodes.

This model of idol runs short before reaching righteous consideration to a sentimental quality, but exists to other explanations: maybe as a quirky gimmick, or material for shock value, or just because everyone else is doing it on Reddit. Irony then serves not as a cope, but appropriately for idols ineligible for true righteous worship.

An idol should be worshipped by its extent to broader human health, strength and beauty, and not as a mascot for being contemporarily edgy in a repressive culture—else passion may not flow to its fullest conclusion, nor be recognised of the same gravity. An idol must have a merit definable to its form, and an extension to evidence both broader divinity and circumstantial manifestation. It must be understood and interpreted correctly by universal code, else purged memetically of heretical distortions. An idol must be akin in potential translation to reality as it is artistic generation, and never, ever shared with peers or family members… ever.