The Most Disappointing Blogger of My Non-Acquaintance

Laguna Beach Fogey aka Admiral Cod.

Here’s a sample:

<i>Most mornings I stop by the local coffee house, where, naturally, I order tea. The place is usually crowded. Businessmen in not-quite-right suits. Younger guys with product in their hair. Sour-looking career girls. And then there are the ubiquitous older men, long hair, t-shirts, and flip-flops, reading the LA Times or WSJ, multi-millionaires who retired at 55 and spend their day chilling out at the beach.

Mothers pop in with their children, spoiled young things with a taste for lattes. You have not seen soccer moms until you have seen Orange County soccer moms. They really are a cut above the rest. They often remain very fuckable in their yoga pants even in their 30s and 40s. Drinks in hand they all mount the Escalade and ferry the kids to school.

My brew of choice is an expertly calibrated blend of 62% pure white tea and 38% green Japanese sencha. White tea, I have found, has a more exquisite flavour. If black tea is a fortysomething cougar, and if green tea is a free-spirited hippy chick into yoga, then white tea is a delicate 16-year old girl, silken hair and dewy lips, blossoming into womanhood. I recommend it.

There is a gym nearby. It specializes in Pilates, which, so far as I can determine, is an elaborate stretching session for hotties in yoga pants, and for which the hotties themselves (or, more precisely, their husbands) probably dish out a considerable amount. For women like these, life is just one big photo opportunity.</i>

The pretense reeks off the screen. The self-promotion. The inveigling of oneself in someone elses’s fantasy taken on-board, nay, imbibed, drunk, slaked and overwhelmed out of anything authentic and merely a facade made a replica. Thrust forward as the real deal.

I’ve never understood James Bond infantilism. Just like I’ve never understood Superman infatuates. I’ve been to brothels and I know what’s real and make believe. I’ve seen venereal disease.

Imagine the mindset that wants to, desires to, writes and evokes his own spirit as an actor in a movie played out for boys bordering on puberty. It’s way more captivating than anything you’ll ever sit and stare at on the TV or in a cinema.

Life must be like one long joke on oneself yet you pretend no one is laughing and everyone is observing. I used to imagine the girls were watching me at high school, through a secret lens, overwhelmed by my masculinity. I knew it was a farce.

What sort of thing pretends that this is real?

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16 Responses to The Most Disappointing Blogger of My Non-Acquaintance

  1. Pat Hannagan says:

    Laguna Beach Fogey
    Playboy banker, Investor, Exile, Black sheep, Einzelgänger, Romantic, Nationalist, Ex-Jesuit schoolboy, Bastard, German-Viking-Anglo-Saxon, Bon vivant, Clothes horse, Traveller, Failed mercenary in Africa…ad maiora nati sumus

    Imagine writing that about yourself in all seriousness.

  2. Pat Hannagan says:

    Yes. I love the way he likes to “name drop” types and associate himself by insinuation.

    It’s very Vox Day.

    You know, like:

    “The other day, as I was bench pressing my extended family who are all baptists and one with God, with one arm, I happened to notice a girl fingering herself and couldn’t but help also note it was me she was remonstrating her clitoris over.

    It was at that moment that I recalled kicking the winning goal after a challenging duel with an Austrian who was built like a machine and played like one. My son walked in the room, naked, throwing his todger over his shoulder as the mist of the spa bore down on our fevered pecs, and I couldn’t help but put out a cigarette in the next room with my own bent round a corner.

    Spying the mirror i admired myself and remarked: “Tyger! Tyger! burning bright. In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye. Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”

    No one replied which I took as complete subservience to my awesomeness. I am an American after all.”

  3. Reg Sipco says:

    But, think for a minute. Imagine that what he writes is true and he really is doing what he says he is. Imagine just how pathetic it is to have lived an entire life based on a work of fiction and promoting yourself as the epitome of self-enlightenment.

  4. Reg Sipco says:

    Older men are ubiquitous in LBF’s world. They’re everywhere!

    Unlike him, who is an older man who takes selfies. He probably gives himself gobbies also.

  5. Reg Sipco says:

    Younger guys with product in their hair.

    Product? Product?! Wtf is “Product” but the put down of a geriatric with Brylcreem lamenting the advent of teflon frying pans?

  6. Reg Sipco says:

    My brew of choice is an expertly calibrated blend of 62% pure white tea and 38% green Japanese sencha.


    Condescending yet at the same time self-celebrating. The “Japanese” (man unafraid of other cultures) “sencha” (ooooo) is not only “expertly calibrated” it’s his ” brew of choice”.

    One wonders if LBF has any idea of how much of a pastiche of 80’s yuppiedom he just made himself out to be.

    If black tea is a fortysomething cougar, and if green tea is a free-spirited hippy chick into yoga, then white tea is a delicate 16-year old girl, silken hair and dewy lips, blossoming into womanhood. I recommend it.

    What? No. He has no idea. He thinks Gordon Gekko still rules and everyone admires Charlie Sheen. I have no idea what the foundation for his fixation and association of tea and sex is but, I also note. senior citizens also like a good tea and lie down as they settle back into retirement village sofas.

  7. Reg Sipco says:

    Mongol Invasions
    Over the weekend I escorted one of my young lady friends on a shopping spree to South Coast Plaza, an upscale establishment specialising in mostly high-end luxury goods.

    We were there ostensibly to find her a new handbag, although I was lured in by the Berluti, Rolex, and John Lobb stores, as you might expect.

    The expedition, however, soon resulted in us standing around gawking at the throngs of pygmy Mongols swarming along the walkways. It was as if the Golden Horde itself had descended upon the place, driven into a frenzy by the sales.

    When I was a young boy, growing up in New York and Connecticut, I used to imagine the battles that took place in the area in colonial times. These days, I admit to you, thanks to the mass infusion of temporary visitors to these shores, I increasingly find myself picturing the guerrilla race wars that certainly (I hope) will take place in this country in future. An inspiring thought to be sure.

    “Good Lord,” my girl later said to me as we walked out, “three-fourths of the people in there were Asian.”

    “Indeed,” I replied.


    How soi-disant. And a “young lady friend” just casually thrown in. Tres Cool. Tres, uber Yank. Tres untermensch.

  8. he on dat phaggy time cuzz lol
    does this dude even lift??

  9. Yeah, well, at least I acknowledge my James Bond schtick is just that, a schtick. Hence the references to Get Smart and Austin Powers.

    As for the sex stuff, for whatever reason I had a shit load of Church Ladies – and their Church Boys – latching on to the character early on. Throw in a lot of raunch and it lets everyone know what’s what. I never claimed to be a family man.

    If I didn’t write the sex, I’d be just another boring 9/11 truther. Sex sells, just ask the DS types.

  10. Anon2 says:

    Totally agree about Laguna Bitch Faggy.

    I mean, who would write an elaborate blog about some vicarious fantasy life that is so distant from his mediocre reality that his deep inner pain is evident.

    In reality, he is a British omega male who is in his 50s, and does not really live in Orange County. His biggest issue is Neo-Nazi racism, and nothing bugs him more than seeing a white woman with *any* non-white race of man (since he wrongly assumes that if not for the colored man, HE would be with her, when in reality she would prefer celibacy over him).

    You are right. He is one of the most pathetic bloggers out there.

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