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WDH – pdf 392
Click: here
Author: C .T.
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AmRen’s BS
I recently quoted to Claudius the following sentence from Saturday’s article in American Renaissance:
Violence or shrillness will never convince white people who may well have doubts about blacks but think it is immoral to be ‘racist’. Talking about ‘Jews’ as the source of the problem smacks of Nazism—another violent movement that did us great harm.
You can pass up such bullshit once or twice since Taylor is quite reluctant to become wise about the JQ. But yesterday AmRen published another article speculating on the Great War as the primary aetiology of Western decline, considering Christianity as a bulwark for Western mental health. (Long before Christianity became ‘corrupted’, the Europeans had already committed miscegenation on a gigantic scale in the American continent.)
One of the reasons I will continue to translate my chess book into English for this site is that I need escapism from white nationalism, race realism or whatever you call it. The Americans’ religious obstinacy is exasperating, unable to see their parents’ religion as the number one cause of their racial misfortune.
I’m not even going to repeat what I’ve said ad nauseam about Christian ethics, which includes the mixing of blood that the Iberians perpetrated here. It’s more than explained in the books that appear on the sidebar. But it exasperates me to see that these American racialists can’t advance a single micron in their quest for an accurate diagnosis of white decline, despite the fact that all the historical facts (see my sticky post) scream in unison about who’s to blame.
So I’ll keep writing about chess. No more Jared. No more Greggy. No more bile secreted when I see paragraphs like the one quoted above…
Claudius:
You don’t consider Johnson an enemy of the White race?
Would you take less umbrage if I labeled him ‘Traitor’?
He’s a homosexual.
He never commended Hitler, Himmler, the SS or National Socialism.
He chastises William Pierce and his books.
He refrains from promoting hatred against non-Whites; in fact, he downright denouces hatred and racism.
It’s one thing to abstain from promoting violence; one risks losing their platform / job / get doxxed / get arrested. But denouncing hatred is going against Umwertung aller Wertes.
Some might call Greggy ‘a stepping stone’ for crossing the axiological Rubicon. I think he’s ‘a stepping on a nail’ – you waste time, you continue to suffer.
It’s preachers like him that are slowing down the transition of Happy Mode into Angry Mode, by promoting schizo double-think like ‘I hate other groups because of multiculturalism… I don’t want to hate other groups’.
He’s siphoning money from would-be racist whites. He’s siphoning awakening Whites’ time with his bullshit articles. He’s siphoning White Hatred away.
Without Hate, we are defeated. And the first targets of our Hate should be White traitors who stifle our Hate.
Yesterday a new visitor posted this comment arguing that we shouldn’t criticise Greg Johnson so harshly. I pointed out that there were many entries on this site about Johnson and that I had summarised my views about him on pages 9-11 of Day of Wrath (DOW), indicating that my book appeared on the sidebar. But this morning that I checked the sidebar I noticed that while there is a link to get the hard copy of the book, there was no link for the PDF, which I just added it to.
DOW also contains English translations of some chapters of my books in Spanish on the terrible, even infanticidal treatment with which entire cultures treated children. In a crucial scene from Game of Thrones we see Bran freak out when the three-eyed raven shows him the human sacrifice of an adult in the remote past of Westeros. What this book shows is that, in real human history, these sacrifices were made even with children, including the American continent in which I find myself.
Those who wish to know why I have gone so far into the dark side of our past to understand the present—just what the raven wanted Bran to know!—should consider this book. Reading it together with watching the Russian film that I talked about in my previous post will help the visitor understand why I have generated the austere, and sometimes sullen gravitas, of my current personality.
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Best Russian film
Those who have read Pierce and Kemp’s books will know of other very dark hours for the white race. But without images or a good novel, like Julian by Vidal, it’s almost impossible to convey what happened with the proper emotions. Since Hollywood is in enemy hands, what is filmed there about the past distorts historical reality to the point of axiological reversal. But the best movie ever made in Russia, Andrei Rublev, transports us to one of these terrible moments as if we were in the cave of the three-eyed raven retrocognitively seeing the historical past. Tarkovsky’s film is three hours long and was shot in black and white (YouTube link here).
In the second part of the film, while the Russian Prince is away his younger brother, hungry for power, allies with a group of Tartars and attacks Vladimir. We see flashbacks of the Prince and his brother attending a church service. The non-white invasion of the combined armed forces on horseback and the resulting carnage is shown in great detail. The city is burned, the citizens are murdered and the women raped and murdered.
One scene shows a horse falling from a flight of stairs and being stabbed by a spear. Another shows that a cow is being set on fire. Fomá narrowly escapes being killed in the city and escapes to the nearby countryside, but when he crosses a river he is shot in the back with an arrow and killed.
The Tartars make their way to the barricaded church, now completely decorated with Andrei’s paintings, where most of the citizens have taken refuge. The Tartars show no mercy and slaughter the people inside and burn all the painted wooden altarpieces.
Andrei saves Dúrochka from being raped by killing a Tartar with an axe. The bishop’s messenger is cruelly tortured into revealing the location of the city’s gold. After being repeatedly burned, he has liquid metal from a melted crucifix poured into his mouth and is dragged away tied to a horse.
After that, only Andrei and Dúrochka are left alive in the church. A traumatised Andrei imagines a conversation with the late Theophanes the Greek, mourning the loss of his work and the evil of humanity, while Dúrochka absentmindedly braids the hair of a dead woman. Andréi decides to leave his profession of Orthodox Church painter and takes a vow of silence to atone for his sin due to the idiotic Christian commandment to never kill another man, even if he was a Tartar invader.
In the next film segment, Andrei is once again in the Andronikov monastery while famine and war dominate the country. He no longer paints or speaks but keeps the girl Dúrochka with him as a silent companion. After a few scenes, a group of Tartars stops at the monastery. The blonde Dúrochka is the perfect paradigm of Andrew Anglin’s words that I quoted in On Beth’s cute tits:
What I am ‘claiming’—which is in fact simply explaining an objective reality, based on accepted science—is that women have no concept of ‘race’, as it is too abstract for their simple brains. What they have a concept of is getting impregnated by the dominant male.
This girl, Dúrochka, ignores the atrocities that the Tartars had done in the Russian town and is fascinated by one of the soldier’s shiny breastplates. Still sitting on their horses, the Tartars tease her and play with her, but a soldier likes her, puts on her a horned helmet and dresses her as a bride, and finally decides to take her with him as his eighth wife, the only Russian wife of the non-white Tartar. Andrei tries to stop her from leaving him, but she spits in the face of the miserable Russian monk to let her go with the powerful Tartars. The scene perfectly portrays the mentality of white women but ultimately it is the fault of men like Andrei who, instead of fighting, obey the ‘love thine enemy’ gospel message.
Today in the morning when I went out for a walk to warm my feet on a cloudy day, a revelation came to me about all those scenes which can be seen in the video embedded above from 1:25 to 2:10. Yes: white women of our time are behaving like Dúrochka, jumping on the horse of the mighty: the Allies and Jews who wrote history books after WW2. Otherwise they would be on the side of their ethnic group, which would mean transvaluing all values concerning the Third Reich.
However, what Stalin’s hordes did in Germany is no different than what the Tartars did in the segment linked in the previous paragraph. And none of the main WN authors complains about this on their misleadingly called ‘white nationalist’ websites. That’s why I said yesterday that not even the commenters who visit this site are priests of the 14 words.
For any of them to become a priest, he wouldn’t only have to want to multiply with Aryan girls like the SS booklet I’ve been quoting. In practical terms this means hostilely taking over the State and destroying feminism in a single day through a massive rape of the Sabine women (insofar as today’s Western women are not as decent as the women whose pics appear in the SS booklet I’ve been quoting). See the section in On Beth’s cute tits where an MGTOWer says that in patriarchy men have the power of sexual reproduction, while in feminist society it’s women who have that power.
It also means founding, in the new extremely brutal ethnostate, a kind of reply to Hollywood’s brainwashing machine by filming the Allied atrocities in Germany and in the forced labour and extermination camps of the Soviet Union, where huge numbers of Germans were deported never to return. No one who doesn’t feel compassion for the slaughtered Germans has the right to comment here, since besides the 14 words I am also a priest of the 4 words.
Remember that.
The Dúrochka-like women in today’s West are simply jumping on the horses of the powerful. And the American and European males aren’t really men but a kind of neochristian monks (see for example what Mauricio recently said about Greg Johnson: a perfect paradigm of today’s ‘white nationalism’). Even their WN websites remind me of Andrei Rublev who, in those apocalyptic moments for Russia, instead of transvaluing Xtian values plunged himself into theological discussions and felt guilty for killing a single Tartar.
Only those who, unlike Rublev, have left Xtian ethics behind will be capable of saving their race.
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The human side of chess, 9
‘Why do chess players grieve so much after a defeat?… Because defeat is like a little death’. —Manuel Suárez / Boris Zlotnik
What to do after defeat
None of the chess fans I know knows that mastery of the game is due to factors that have nothing to do with his will. Only in a small group of vocations can a human being aspire to be a child prodigy. Music, mathematics and chess are paradigms. Some compare Bach’s music with mathematics, whose logic is inherent, or a priori a Kantian would say, to the human mind. Also, as a special form of computation that is chess, early training can turn a child with special characteristics into a Capablanca, for whom chess was his mother tongue. The same can be said for Russian and former Soviet republics players who, unlike my very modest level when I played Monroy, reach grandmaster norm at fifteen or sixteen.
Few things have impressed me more than the autobiographical part of Capablanca’s My Chess Career. By winning a match against American Frank Marshall, the Cuban reached the level of a grandmaster without studying a single opening book. This is the most representative fact that I can think of to point out how someone with good genes who learned to play chess from the age of four, and developed the edge of his mind in that computational area, can become a world champion. Capablanca’s brain, the ‘chess machine’, was trained in the span of life in which one is capable of developing new faculties. That is why music conservatories do not admit students after a certain age. The same thing happens in chess.
The neurological development of certain areas of the brain differs between a Capablanca or fifteen-year-old GMs and the rest of the hobbyists. An even more terrible truth is that a high IQ is innate, and has to do with the ethnic group to which one belongs. Not having heard this, many have pursued the mirage that, through sheer study, they would become grandmasters as if it were something similar to obtaining a doctorate in physics. In reality, the rating that a young man learning the game in his twenties can develop is relatively modest, and even the level of a child or pubescent if he doesn’t have the right genes for this game. If we study chess to reach the equivalent of a doctorate, the knowledge acquired can help us to be excellent instructors, but it won’t necessarily allow us to play like the first boards in the world. Like the violin or piano prodigies, in chess what counts is how much we train certain areas of our brain in childhood, puberty and adolescence. Using a crude computational analogy, what really matters is the kind of software our brains were trained with, in addition to racial hardware (nowadays, there are no active chess GMs of the black race).
In the introduction I said that the talks of some amateur fans motivated me to write this book. One of these friends is called Alcides, who is well educated in chess. In the café where we talked Alcides played matches with Yayo, who doesn’t read chess and doesn’t even know how to maintain the opposition in a king and pawn versus king ending. However, Yayo generally beat Alcides in matches. On several occasions I spoke with Alcides about the Lasker manual. He likes the original German version better than the shortened English and Spanish versions. One of these versions once wore on a coffee table, but as usual Lasker’s pupil was swept away by Yayo. Alcides is capable in his profession of computer science and handling of computers. But despite his chess and computational knowledge, his uneducated rival has a better brain to play chess. Let’s put it iconoclastically: Lasker’s manual, and in fact all the chess books that I know, are bad and anti-pedagogical because they don’t start from a vital axiom about the game: the development of certain brain areas differs among people and even among the races.
It is not my intention to discourage Caissa’s suitors. But the young aspiring would spare a lot of dreams if, at home or school, we had been given this elementary class in neurology and raciology. Personally, given my father’s talents in music and visual arts, that was where I could’ve excelled (think of prominent Mexican filmmakers in Hollywood like Cuarón, Iñárritu, and del Toro), not computational business like chess. But even if we take all of this into account, compared to Cuba the chess level in Mexico is low. If we add to this that many of us are ageing and that we don’t have good instructors, those Botvinnik and Averbach that the Russian children and lads had, it will be virtually impossible to make the quantum leap to become GMs. Here I can’t help but come to mind a photograph of instructor Botvinnik with a young Garri Kasparov next to him. It also comes to mind that both of Fischer’s parents were Jewish. His biological father was a brilliant mathematician (Ashkenazi Jews are the ethnic group ranked the highest on the IQ scale).
Listening to a thirteen-year-old boy play Beethoven’s concerto for violin and orchestra is like watching some children from the former Soviet republics play games of blitz. Such is the virtuosity of these Paganinis of Caissa that they give their colleagues a five-minute lead, by just two minutes of their own, and destroy them with diabolical precision. No matter how hard you study, you’ll never play blitz games like that: an infallible measurer of the level of a boy whose mother tongue had been chess. To meditate thoughtfully on what we read in chess literature, to put our games to Fritz to understand them better, to consult the Encyclopedia of Chess Openings to see where we made the imprecision, to play one tournament after another to accustom to fighting chess, may be instructive but not necessarily to jump significantly in skill level. At least not to take the leap that some young people fantasise about. Our brain is already formed, formatted I would dare to say.
Presently, the edge of my mind manifests itself in my speciality of understanding the psychic havoc that abusive parents cause—an area that has nothing to do with chess. Capablanca, who never undertook the chess study marathons that many unsuspecting do, played infinitely better than I and other inveterate scholars. I have said that few things have impressed me more than Capablanca beat a GM during a match without studying a single opening book (on another level, this is exactly what happened in Alcides’ matches with Yayo). At twenty Capablanca had not played a single match with a grandmaster, and he beat Marshall with a crushing score of +8 = 14 –1 (eight games won, fourteen draws and one loss). This is the fact that best illustrates what a genius is. If the pedagogues were humble enough to accept the innate deficiencies of the child, they would know that he won’t speak as fast as the Jew Ben Shapiro, or that he won’t obtain the title of GM of chess at thirteen as did the Nordic Magnus Carlsen, who would conquer the sceptre.
(Thirteen-year-old Carlsen in Norway giving a simultaneous exhibition.) We don’t need to rank high on verbal IQ, the speciality of the Jews, to become a champion. But we do need to rank high, like the Nordics, Slavs or Asians, in spatial intelligence. If you still want to play under these circumstances, my suggestion is that you write an intimate diary about your emotions in the game and your love of the game taking these facts into account.
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SS booklet, 6
Are not this peasant and that farm girl [pics in German booklet] in their simple, straightforward and austere manner, best suited for the SS-man as wife and as mother of many children?
______ 卐 ______
Editor’s postscript:
When I closed the comments section for a while from the first day of January I linked to a page of mine where I said that those who identified a hundred per cent with the SS agenda could continue commenting and left an email for them to offer their comments via that mail.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but apparently no one who visits WDH fully identifies with what the SS said even in popular, illustrated booklets like this one.
For this reason, after this post I’ll change the subtitle of this site from ‘A site for priests of the 14 words’ to ‘The site of the priest of the 14 words’.
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The human side of chess, 8
5 Tort – Computer
HAL 9000 and man
I didn’t play this last game with a human being.
When I play with my computer it seems as unequal a struggle as competing in arithmetic with a calculator. As mathematician John von Newmann told Jacob Bronowski, chess is not a game: it is a special form of computing. But before Newmann, Lasker had already intuited that an entity ‘that could keep millions of variants in mind would not need planning’, the theory. The so-called ‘chess theory’ is a crutch for us mortals. The machine that sees billions of actions shows us the quintessence of chess not in its scarlet facet, but its pure and soulless logic. (Despite what fans of A.I. say, the computer system still has no soul.)
When I was fifteen, I went with my father to visit Robert Schirokauer, who changed his name to Robert Hartman, at his house in Cuernavaca. Hartman played chess and I brought my favorite Alekhine book: the beautiful games of his youth that my dad had given me.
Hartman told us that the machine would never beat man ‘because it was Man who programmed it’. Robert S. Hartman was wrong. This game, and on another level Kasparov’s games with Deep Blue, should move us humans to great swallowing of our pride. By the way, it was from Hartman that I learned the word ‘axiology’. His dense book The Knowledge of Good: Critique of Axiological Reason, whose Spanish version my father acquired before Hartman died, is still in the home library. Metapedia’s critical article on the anti-Nazi Hartman was started by me.
HOME GAME
November 2003
French Defense
1 e4 e6
2 d4 d5
3 Nc3 Nf6
4 Bg5 Be7
5 e5 Nfd7
6 Bxe7 Qxe7
7 f4 O-O
8 Nf3 c5
9 Nb5 ?!
It’s incredible but this move, which had given me so much success with the players in the park in similar positions, could be inaccurate. The rebuttal the machine applied to me—virtually the rest of the game—is so mathematical that it is terrifying to see such precision in a soulless object.
9… a6!
10 Nd6 f6
11 c3 Nc6
12 Be2 cxd4
13 cxd4 g5
14 g3 fxe5
15 fxe5 g4
16 Nh4 Ndxe5!
From this piece sacrifice Chessmaster didn’t let me go. It won the initiative until my surrender.
17 dxe5 Nxe5
18 Nxc8 Raxc8
19 Rf1 Qb4 +
20 Qd2 Rxf1 +
21 Bxf1 Qe4 +
22 Qe2 Rc2
23 Qxe4 dxe4
24 Rd1
When I made this move of my rook and the next ones I thought I was going to get a certain counterplay and equalizing chances, but…
25 … e3
25 Be2 Rxb2
26 Rd4 h5
27 Re4 Rb1 +
28 Bd1 Nd3 +
29 Ke2 Rxd1!
… I didn’t see this move!
30 Rxe3 Nb2
31 Rxe6 Rh1
32 Re7 Rxh2 +
33 Ke3 Nc4 +
34 Kf4 b5
35 Kg5 Rxa2
36 Kxh5 a5
37 Kxg4 b4
38 Kh5 Rf2
I confess that since move 33 I was taking back several moves: something that can be done to a mindless machine that cannot complain. But not only did I not find a checkmate net; there was not even a continuous check.
39 Kg6 Kf8
40 Rb7 Ne5 +
41 Kg5 Nf7 +
42 Kg6 Nd8
43 Rb8 Ke7
44 Nf5 + Rd7
45 Kf6 Nc6
46 Rb7 + Kc8
47 Rh7
I couldn’t move the rook to b5 because its rook would take my knight and the fork would come.
47 … b3
48 Rh1 a4
49 g4 a3
50 I resigned
I played this game with Chessmaster 8000, although then the Chessmaster 9000 version arrived. Only now, thirty years after having reproduced it for the first time thanks to one of Alekhine’s books, do I understand the French Defense between Capablanca and Reti played in New York, 1924. Capablanca played 9 Qd2 instead of the one I played and beat the Jewish Reti. The strongest commercial program for analysing games now that I review this book for publication is Fat Fritz 2. I do not doubt that if that new engine analysed the above game it would find moves that neither Chessmaster nor I could see.
Stanley Kubrick was a chess fan. I remember a photograph in which he is seen playing on a break with George Scott during the filming of Dr. Strangelove. In the annexes that come with the Chessmaster program you can read that in Kubrick’s film 2001: A Space Odyssey the HAL 9000 supercomputer faces astronaut Frank Poole in a game of chess en route to Jupiter, and beats him.
But losing to a heartless machine like Chessmaster doesn’t hurt. The first tournament defeat that hurt me was neither more nor less the first game of my first chess tournament, which I played at the age of fifteen outside of what is now called the World Trade Center: the tallest building in Mexico City at the time. My opponent was the strong player Enrique Monroy, who with white opened with a Ruy López in which, with black, I tried to use a defense that Alekhine sometimes played. In part, my defeat was due to the tournament organisers not even informing all of us about time control. I played as if the time limit was not for the first 40 moves, but the entire game. That resulted in that even after reaching the time control I was responding to Monroy’s moves as if it was a blitz game! These were not yet the days of electronic chess clocks. We used mechanical clocks. At that time, losing by default meant that a little red flag on top of one of the two faces of the clocks dropped. Even though I was ignorant of the time control rules in the first round of my first tournament, I blamed myself for the defeat. It was so embarrassing for me to have been beaten that, once I arrived home in a dazed state, I told my parents that the game had ended in a draw…
Watch Chris Martenson’s latest video.
Hopefully his and Dr Geert Vanden’s fears are based on fact, as coupled with the looming dollar collapse and the depletion of oil it would lead to the much-longed-for apocalyptic scenario for priests like us.
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The human side of chess, 7
4 ‘The Russian’ – Tort
In pursuit of a metaphorical king
I played this game in a tournament of the Ibrahim Martínez club in the Colonia Roma in Mexico City: a neighbourhood that Alfonso Cuarón made known to the world with Roma, a film that I have criticised on my website The West’s Darkest Hour. I couldn’t say it’s a great game but I’m including it because I used to enjoy reproducing it at home, safe from the agonies of live fighting. Even after playing it long ago, I am delighted to see how I crucified the poor white king in the first row of the board. As in the games in which I defeated Norgaard and friend Marco, the direct attack on the king is what gives us the greatest pleasure. Not during the tortuous live game, of course; but safe at home, with beautiful Staunton pieces of wood, and with our living room fireplace lit.
FIDE TOURNAMENT, IBRAHIM CLUB
Time control: 2 hours / 40 movements
February 24, 1993
1 e4 e5
2 f4 d5
The Falkbeer Countergambit.
3 exd5 c6!?
I prepared the Nimzowitsch variant of the countergambit especially for this game. I had made inquiries about the opening repertoire of my opponent, Manuel García Marquina, a young white man nicknamed ‘The Russian’ in chess circles. The referee of the event himself had the indiscretion to tell me that he was playing the King’s Gambit. ‘Really?’ I replied with wicked eyes and a smile. And I went home happy to prepare a line for the Russian: a variant that surprised him.
4 Nf3
Another possibility is 4 Qe2. After this game I heard these words from a fan who was surprised by my victory: ‘The Russian is a specialist in the King’s Gambit’.
4 … e4
5 Qe2 Nf6
6 d3 cxd5
7 dxe4 dxe4
8 Nc3 Bb4
9 Qb5 +
Already in the postmortem, according to some beautiful variants played by the machine, 9 Bd2 would have been better for Black.
9 … Nc6
10 Ne5 Bxc3 +
This opens the a3-f8 diagonal. But if 10… Qd4; 11 Tb1 Nd5; 12 Nxc6 and the resulting complications seem to leave White better. I confess that these calculations, and countless others, I do thanks to my computer system. Only with these sophisticated toys that play first-rate chess have I managed to delve deeply into many of my games.
11 bxc3 O-O
12 Nxc6??
12 Ba3! could have tied the game after 12 … Re8; 13 Rd1 Qc7 (but not 13… Qa5 because 14 Qxa5 followed by 15 Bb5, winning); 14 Bd6 Db6; 15 Bc5 and draw by repetition of moves.
12 … bxc6
13 Qxc6 Bg4
14 Ba3 Re8
15 Qd6 Qa5
16 Bb4 Qa4
17 Bc4 a5
18 h3
And now the direct assault on the king:
18… Rd8
19 Qc7 Qxc2
20 hxg4 Qxg2
21 Qxf7 + Kh8
22 Rh6 e3
23 White resigns
Chess players are sadists. Many of us were abused as children by our parents and, as we must honour them, we take it out on scapegoats. My youth idol Alekhine beat his wives and suffered attacks of violence. Once he lost a game he destroyed some furniture in his hotel and occasionally threw his king across the room. And it was Alekhine himself who said: ‘During a chess tournament a master must envisage himself as a cross between an ascetic monk and a beast of prey’.
An American journalist asked the former champion Spassky, of style influenced by Alekhine, if he believed that the young Seirawan, then the promise of the United States, would conquer the crown. Spassky replied that he doubted it, and added that to become world champion it is necessary to be a kind of bird of prey, a potential murderer: a gift that not all chess players have. In no other game or sport do players speak of ‘killing’, ‘destroying’ or ‘breaking’ the opponent as in chess (remember my quoted diary: ‘I had always wanted to kill Marco with a queen sacrifice’). The type of chess player Spassky refers to sometimes plays in order to engender the morbid pleasure of seeing his opponent bow down. In 1971, a year before being crowned world chess champion, Bobby Fischer (1943-2008) responded to Dick Cavett during a television show: ‘The greatest pleasure? When you break his ego’ referring to the opponent’s ego; and there are those who have said, with some hyperbole, that Fischer had the mentality of a killer.
Unscrupulous psychologists insert electrodes into the rats’ pleasure centres in the brain. They are then conditioned to push a button for ultra-rewarding stimulation. Electrode-implanted rats become addicted to infinite pleasure; so much so that they stop eating and, when they put a metal floor where they will receive a strong electric shock if they step on it, they gladly do so in order to touch the button and artificially masturbate their neurons. What does the torment matter if what is pursued is the absolute glory of that moment!
The players I know appreciate my electric chair metaphor. They say it’s accurate to illustrate the gambit that we do in life when we play in tournaments. Like me, they have suffered horrors in a gambling room that sometimes looks like a torture chamber. But the apparent masochism of faithfully subscribing to the next tournament is inexplicable to them. These gambling addicts, with no insight about what they did to us as children, must have a huge motive for revenge that compels them to hunt down a metaphorical king. We cannot attack those who gave us life. But in the game we can crucify our opponent from time to time.