Envy Desire
Hanging out with the cunty dolls and the volcel sodomites
“Are you ready for the most subversive piece of cinema of the past 4,000 years?” the dude introducing Aimee Armstrong’s short film Envy/Desire asks the Sovereign House audience, “Are you ready for your brains to get fucked out of your skull?” I put the house copy of Julius Evola’s The Hermetic Tradition that I had been browsing back in the bookshelf next to where I’m sitting. The crowd, mostly young hipsters, cheers. I notice a fat bearded guy wearing a T-shirt that says RACEPLAY EXPERT on it. The film begins.
Bella (played by director Aimee Armstrong) is a trans woman who thinks she’s scored the hunky straight cis man of her dreams in Ethan (played by George Olesky). But something is amiss when Ethan starts dropping hints that their fantasies of each other don’t quite line up as she had expected. “My love for you is a mix of envy and desire,” Ethan tells Bella. “He’s an autogynephile,” Aimee’s spicy trans TradCath friend Natasha (played by Salomé) tells her. Cue a montage of Bella going down a Wikipedia rabbit hole of articles on AGP and Ray Blanchard. Alas, it’s true—Bella returns to her apartment to see Ethan trying on her clothes and makeup. Her hetero fantasy has been ruined. He’s even been watching sissy hypno videos that tell him he wants to get fucked by big black cocks. Bella tries to go along with it, even bringing girlmode Ethan to the café for her regular cunty dolls meetup with Natasha. But Ethan can’t hang with the dolls—it’s cringe and annoying when he tries to be a girl. His wig looks stupid with his chiseled jaw. Bella and Ethan have a big fight over it, and he leaves, declaring that he’s going out to get fucked. He soon comes back with post-nut clarity, ready to return to his normal cis man self, and that’s the end.
Then there’s a Q&A period with Aimee and Salomé and George, moderated by Betsey Brown. “Are there any dolls in the audience?” Aimee asks the crowd, but no one speaks up, “I don’t think any are here.” There’s a question about autogynephilia and Aimee says that she uses it as a device to self-satirize Bella’s obsession of having a straight guy. She doesn’t really want to spend too much time talking about AGP and that she doesn’t want her film to be seen as propaganda for Blanchard’s transsexualism typology and whatnot. “This is a film about chasers, it’s not about trans lesbians,” Aimee says. “But it is about trans lesbians, isn’t it?” someone else asks in the audience. The conversation moves on, and the actors talk a bit about how they met. Aimee and Salomé met on the set of www.RachelOrmont.com back in 2022, and then the following winter Salomé took George’s acting class at the Gasda theater in Greenpoint. Salomé first appears in this Substack at the de Vere Ball, and George appears throughout, as the Richard Burbage to Matt Gasda’s Shakespeare (or de Vere, I guess…?). A trusted gay source tells me that George is “hot as a gay guy, disgusting as a breeder.” George is one of the downtown Dimes Square indie theater staples, but he’s also got such a quintessentially typical “actor” personality that you could just as easily imagine him living in Hell’s Kitchen and hanging around with the Broadway normies. Aimee and Salomé, by contrast, are pure Dimes Square characters, though Aimee is from London and just visiting. Salomé walked in the Elena Velez Fall 2023 New York Fashion Week show “The Longhouse,” she’s occasionally photographed with the Red Scare girls, and the last time I talked to her she was about to fly to Düsseldorf to do modeling work. I met Aimee at a house party in Crown Heights last summer, where there was a funny mix of like clout-obsessed Manhattanoid edgelords and fake revolutionary L-Train podcasters. We had a lovely conversation. I also remember there was a wet T-shirt contest.
After the screening I’m posted up with the cunty dolls on a bench in the Sovereign House courtyard smoking weed and like half a pack of Aimee’s cigarettes and the dude in the RACEPLAY EXPERT shirt pulls up and introduces himself. He tells me he’s familiar with my writing and so on. His name is Basil. Aimee honey I loved the movie it was absolutely fabulous, he says. Hanging out in our general vicinity is Saint Q, another gay reactionary niche Twitter personality and friend of Aimee, Salomé, Basil, et al., and he tells Basil that he thinks he saw Mommy Milkers show up at Sovereign House and then promptly leave in a huff when she saw Basil there. (I met Mommy Milkers at the de Vere Ball, and in my writeup she’s referred to as “Salomé’s mother” since I didn’t know she was better known as “Mommy Milkers” at the time. She is an Eastern European immigrant woman with huge jugs and wildly racist opinions.) Oooooo how deliciously delightful, Basil cackles, my enemies fear me. You got beef with Mommy Milkers? I ask him. Baby, I got beef with allllll those cryptoleftists who tried to smear and bury the Basil-pill back in 2021. I was in the groupchats, I got all the receipts. I was in the groupchats with Bronze Age Pervert and Anna Khachiyan and Glenn Greenwald and Ben Braddock and Li Fang and Jack The Perfume Nationalist and Mommy Milkers and FilthyArmenian and AsukaHomo and other associated orbiters and lowbies, and Jack The Piss Faggot tried to smear Basil, “Basil’s an autist Basil’s a sperg, Basil’s anti-social, Basil’s obsessed with the Culture War™” and had me kicked from the groupchats, they smeared me because they were implicated in the TQ™, the Tranny Question™ (Basil is keen on mentioning the trademark), which is the same as the Gender Question™, which is the same as the Porn Question™, and so on, It’s All One Thing™, it’s Sexlectics™, and now a few years later the right is coming back around to the TQ™, the right is ready to take the Basil-pill—and Crumps, what good fortune it was for me to come out tonight and meet you, now you have no choice but to write 5,000 words on the Basil-pill—this Basil-pill is none other than the potent anti-left political tool I had perfected years ago, a holistic political critique and litmus test for the right, but Jack The Piss Nationalist gatekept and smeared me and poisoned the well to protect the Caitlyn Jenner GOP and the perfume podcasting cartel’s take-selling brand, he and those other barnacles on Anna Khachiyan’s glamorous asshole messed with the wrong faggot, they thought I was just some other Afghan migrant goat fucker, bitch I’m still Aryan, descended from Pashtun kings (he shows me pictures of himself in Afghanistan hanging out with Taliban fighters), oh honey, they sure messed with the wrong faggot, they messed with the Barebactrian… but let me be clear, I’m not Gay™, don’t ever call me Gay™, I’m a volcel sodomite who occasionally fucks men, I’m well aware of how degenerate it is… anyway, I will destroy Jack’s fledgling media career and his pathetic Perfume Pisscast, the seeds are being planted, come summer he’ll be back to selling junk at his mall kiosk in suburban Texas. Of course, I would never countersignal BAP or Anna Khachiyan. When I read Bronze Age Mindset I immediately lost 100 pounds. Anna and BAP are above my critique… they are merely misguided by lesser minds, but all will be corrected in time. As you know, Anna has completed her transition from 2019-era dissident left media market (Chapo, TrueAnon, and so on) to current-year dissident right, under BAP’s auspices, which has meant her transformation into the contemporary Paglia™, Red Scare is branded as Paglia-coded, Jack The Piss Faggot gave this up when he tried to glom on to Anna and take credit for making Paglia relevant in the dissident right Twitter discourse, and of course Twitter is where we weatherballoon takes that 6–18 months later come through mainstream channels and prestige television, so what this means is that BAP is to Nietzsche as Anna is to Paglia, they’re weatherballooning the coexistence of BAP-Nietzsche™ and Anna-Paglia™ in a mainstream media ecosystem, they’re testing whether this can be a marketable ideological nexus for mainstream consumption, and this cross-pollination goes both ways, Anna is making BAP palatable to HBO, making his ideas presentable side-by-side with something like Euphoria. Why does Chloe Cherry go on the TrueAnon podcast on January 6? What is Glenn Greenwald doing on his ranch in Brazil? Are you familiar with Hairy Studs Volume 4? It’s All One Thing™. Sexlectics™. (He points at his shirt) Raceplay. Baby, this shirt is a Basil original, one of only two in existence. Soon you’ll be writing 10,000 words on Basil. Anyway, when Jack and the other piss and smegma collecting adult diaper scat fetishist faggots who sent Jack their dick pics—by the way, Crumps, you’re always welcome to send me pictures of your big white cock, I promise to cherish and never share them—when these faggots say that “Paglia never missed,” they are making Paglia a proxy for Anna, a subtle and obfuscating reversal that is intended to flatten Paglia’s controversial pro-NAMBLA and pro-porn positions alongside her palatable mainstream anti-feminist anti-leftist positions, in other words they’re trying to smuggle cryptoleftist faggotry back into the dissident right, which ultimately floats downstream into mainstream culture a few years later. Sexlectics™. This is the Basil-pill that they tried to bury a few years ago, but they’ll be on the run with the new offensive that Chris Rufo is planning for this spring and summer, one that will take the TQ™ head-on. Watch when the discourse shifts around Pride Month™ to the question of Porn™, Porn™ in schools, watch the Paglia Discourse™ then. Aimee finally chimes in. Crumps is a leftist, she says, he doesn’t believe in any of this. Is Basil is accosting you, she asks me, and I say no, I’m just letting him riff and it’s interesting. Crumps may be a leftist, Basil says, but he is nevertheless fertile soil for the Basil-pill seed to be planted, and now he has no choice but to write 20,000 words about Basil and the TQ™. Oh Aimee, Basil suddenly realizes, oh Aimee baby, you know I love you, it’s just that I don’t think we should live in a society where you can legally change your gender on your driver’s license. You understand that, right? They still had people like you in ancient Afghanistan. And I absolutely loved the movie, it was hilarious, you were fabulous as ever, oh we had such a fabulous time when we hung out in London. Oh darling, I hope you don’t mind that I stole the show on your big night…
jesus christ