Chimping Is For Chimps. Don't Be a Chimp.

Chimps don’t run the roost. Men with shotguns run the roost.

Men with shotguns have always run the roost.

The more important point, though, is who those men are loyal to.

Definitely not chimps. In fact, they typically hate chimps. Chimps are annoying, disordered, and volatile. If the chimps make enough racket, they will be swiftly and violently dealt with.

Sometimes, the men with guns are run by an even bigger man with an even bigger gun. Sometimes, its run by a group of bitter wives. Other times, by shopkeepers or ideologues. But never, ever, by chimps.

The French Revolution was a chimp out on a massive scale, culminating in the 2-year Reign of Terror, that ended with the moderate Thermidorians.

There is nothing more repulsive than chimps, chimping out, and, worse of all, being subject to the capricious and brutal rule by chimps. The greatest balm for those under such regimes is that they are due to expire sooner rather than later.

Chimps can claim small victories—and, as seen in The Terror, a few big ones, but history rarely graces them with anything greater than modest concessions after much loss of blood and foaming at the mouth. These tiny victories, often referenced to reinforce their delusions of power, provide further evidence of the their impotence. They scream for months, protest in the tens-of-thousands, pen angry letters, and inundate feeds with memes, and the result for their effort are peanuts while business as usual continues on behind the curtains.

Chimps are neither the captains at the helm nor the strategists in the war room. They are the crewmen in the belly of the ship shoveling coal, cooking dinner for the officers, and scrubbing down the deck.

99% of the time, the chimps are ignored, abused, and used for the captain’s ends.
But I’m being rather generous with this analogy.

Chimps are typically so far removed from power that it’s more like them listening to someone who is being told what’s going on by someone who’s being told what’s going on by someone who’s being told what’s going on by someone watching what’s going on and occassionally gets to inch a few pawns forward.

The chimp’s relationship is so vicarious that their devotion and interest in American national politics, the war in Gaza, or US-China trade relations is absurd. The average Liverpool fan has more influence on the results of the 2025 Premier season than we do on the day-to-day happenings of national governments—at least at the higher eschelons (which is what most of the chimp-outs are directed to).

Kash Patel, do this.

Donald Trump, pen this executive order banning the import of African turtles.

Don’t invade Iran. Or invade Iran.

Withhold funds from Israel. Or give them all the munitions they need to blow Gaza back to the Stone Age.

Crack down on Mexican grandmas selling tamales outside the train stations in Chicago.

Some of these demands have turned into victories. Ross Ulbricht was freed. Iran’s nuclear program was stifled through tactical strikes. Trump backed off on tarriffs while tightening up on the border.

But there are two points to bear in mind: these were decisions made behind closed doors with kingmakers and leaders, with chimp outs having very little to do with the results.

Chimping out might have moved the needle slightly on a few issues, but that does not remove the fact that millions of people devoted themselves to pleading big Mr. Government to do their bidding. These victories are scraps, the fruits of chimps begging the men in control to throw them a bone.

The pleas might be written in strident terms. They might be framed as demands. They might be full of expletives and chest-thumping. They might even include the flinging of feces (real or digital). But they are all essentially the same: begging the powerful to do the will of the primates.

Here’s the thing. If you plead, you are a subject.

The chimp champions running victory laps right now and roaring, “We must chimp out our way to victory! We must poast BASED memes and push the administration to ban transgenders from taco stands!” or whatever their latest crusade is—it’s pathetic.

It’s a bunch of beggars high-fiving themselves after getting in a suit’s face and demanding a few more coins be thrown their way—or else.

Maybe the suit is sympathetic today—or a bit nervous because his security detail’s distracted—and decides to buy the chimps a stalk of bananas, but he’s still living in the penthouse on 5th Avenue while they are sleeping at the bus stop and muttering amongst yourselves that they’re the real influencers.

Stop it.

The king chimps are beggars whose middling follower counts and their collective screams of outrage have deluded them into thinking they’re King. They are not. They are largely irrelevant, and their inflated sense of self is an embarrassment.

Men like BAP, Moldbug, Milo, Shapiro, Carlson, and other well-connected intellectuals might carry some sway in policy formation and setting the course of a nation, but Alexander Dugin, “the brain of Putin,” is little more than a minstrel for Putin’s own policies based on real politik, political bonds, the aspiration for more power, and an eclectic hodge-podge of ideas that have guided him. Dugen has as much influence on Putin’s decisions as the Russian Orthodox patriarch .

And that anon with 10k followers on X raising his hands to the heavens now that the needle’s been pushed on H1-Bs? What power does he really have?

Not much.

Don’t mistake this criticism for a call to despair. Quite the opposite.

Those 10k X accounts and TikTok influencers could actually be making concrete, positive changes and exercising concrete, real power—within their sphere of influence.

It’s easy to affect change locally. Our politics have become so disembodied and distant that most Westerners have forgotten this fact. Instead, politics is something that happens to us while we moan about it and pontificate on what should really be done to fix things. Outside of the vigorous but pointless debates over the dinner table and on social media, we experience ourselves as subjects. The discourse simply runs cover for this fact.

But, locally, you can easily move from a subject to an author. You can, actually, make a difference. Get involved in the school board. Start a reading group. Run a successful car washing business and funnel money into good, local causes. Connect yourself with the board of a museum. Clean up the rivers and beaches. There are a million things we could be doing other than pontificating over US-European relations on X.

Industrious, sharp, and socially graceful men have:

• Revived local industries
• Restored safety to mid-sized towns
• Cleaned & beautified natural spaces
• Driven ideologues out of schools
• Inspired groups of young men to lift themselves out of despair
• Created programs to help farmers & government better incentivize environmental preservation
• Swung districts for Trump in 2024

Pennsylvania wasn’t won by the indiscriminate rattling of a saber online and incessantly riling the chimpanzees into a frenzy. It was won by a gay, sassy, determined activist, Scott Presler, and his team. Yes, social media poasting was a part of that, but it was part of a larger strategy and accompanied by boots-on-the-ground campaigning.

This is not chimping out. This is getting shit done.

The more time spent chimping out (and deluding ourselves that it’s really, really important—that we’re really, really moving the needle with pepe memes), the less actual shit gets done.

The less shit that gets done, the further and further our enemies encroach, the weaker and weaker our position, and the more and more our country, our people, and our future goes down the drain.

You cannot save yourself by talking and memes. You save yourself by getting the guns.

Most time spent online (even by “creators”) and almost all time spent chimping out is empty political masturbation.

Don’t chimp out. Get yourself and your people the guns.

Maybe not now. Maybe not in a year. But in 10, 20, or 30 years, make sure that you’ve got the biggest, the baddest, and the most guns.

Channel all that energy, outrage, repugnance, frustration, dissatisfaction, and misery into building the world you long to see.

You won’t get that world by sitting around whining, no matter how loud your protests or how wild your gesticulations.

The world is full of losers who will fritter their lives away complaining and making excuses.

The future is won by those who dare to do.

Cortez. Patton. William the Conqueror. Robert Guiscard. Creton. Robert Denard.

Don’t waste your days moaning online.

Devote the few years, months, days, hours, breaths that remain to bless your descendants with the excellence of your life and the scale of your accomplishments.

Burden them with your greatness.

Fill their chest with pride at the knowledge that your noble blood flows through their veins.

Enough of the complaining.

Onwards—to greatness or a glorious end in its pursuit.