Everyone’s
retarded now. I don’t mean that in a bad way. In
fact, as soon as I heard about retardmaxxing, my first
thought was I want to be retarded too! You may think I’m
joking. But I’m actually giving you the secret to
the universe.
Marc
Andreessen is a retardmaxxer. It’s not every day
you associate the ‘r’ word with someone whose
head is literally shaped like an egg, but that’s
exactly what he claimed recently on the 20VC podcast.
Andreessen
is obviously a genius. At age 21–while his contemporaries
were rewinding a VHS copy of Wayne’s World with
a pencil—he was building Netscape, taking the internet
from an ugly wall of text for nerdlingers to a visual,
mass-market tool for all of us. Way back in 1999, he was
pioneering cloud computing. In 2011, he published his
“software will eat the world” manifesto–a
perfect crystal ball for the modern global economy.
Nowadays,
he weaves vast amounts of data across history, economics
and science into must-read analyses, earning him the title
of Silicon Valley’s Most Visionary Thinker. Now
he can add another title: ‘shortbus conquistador.’
I bet it comes as a huge relief to his giant, overworked
engine of a brain.
Andreessen
is a fan of YouTuber Elisha Long, who coined the phrase
“shortbus conquistador.” A retardmaxxer par
excellence, Long extols the virtues of being retarded
to his +300 thousand subs, from his backyard.
But what is retardmaxxing exactly? In the simplest terms,
it’s the art of doing over thinking; it’s
turning off our hyper-analytical brains and moving our
bodies through time and space—aggressively and imperfectly.
It’s how you stop fighting your own thoughts, silence
your inner critic, and let your body and intuition execute
organically.
As
a writer, the idea is enticing to say the least. Writing
is clawing at your own brain. Hours disappear into thousands
of microscopic judgments—the perfect word, the perfect
rhythm, whether to Oxford comma, excising the passive
voice and the dangling participle. It’s why so many
writers love booze. It quiets the bossy editor that’s
been barking orders inside their heads all day.
Writers
like me have been locked in information overload since
2020, bingeing on hot takes and unfolding Twitter narratives;
obsessing over the sudden spike in urban decay; government-corporate
censorship; globalists advancing on us; the lies and distortions
of Covid and a thousand other outrages. I’m fried.
But
I’ve discovered a solution to all of it: pretend
I’ve got nothing between the ears. I highly recommend
it for everyone. Here’s why.
It
kills analysis paralysis.
Have
you heard of the GenZ stare? It describes that vacant,
deadpan look Zoomers often assume in social and professional
environments. We tend to blame it on smartphones. Elisha
Long has another theory: the blank stare does not indicate
an inert mind, but rather an inert body resulting from
couch potato scrolling. Their expression freezes as their
minds lock in and overthink every potential path and outcome.
Too afraid to make a mistake. Too afraid to engage. Freeze
mode ensues.
Analysis
paralysis has emerged as one of GenZ’s defining
features: What if I fail? What if she rejects me? Retardmaxxing
tells them: ‘You cannot think your way across the
chasm; you just have to close your eyes, shut down the
rationalizations, and leap into action.’ Because
thinking is basically cope. It’s avoiding the vulnerability
of doing The Thing. The only solution is to take action
without conscious striving and over-calculation.
All
over Instagram and TikTok, I see Zoomers waking up to
the reality that their analytical egos have become a cage.
The only way out is to deliberately play the fool so they
can finally execute. For better or worse. Because triumph
is, generally speaking, on the other side of humiliation.
Or, as one X user put it, “retardmaxxing is basically
exposing yourself to small, survivable uncertainty so
you become better at acting without guarantees.”
In
fact it’s the antidote to PFC hegemony. The prefrontal
cortex is a brilliant employee but a terrible micromanager.
At its best, it plans, reasons, solves problems and predicts.
It also evaluates and restrains social shame, which prevents
embarrassment and regret. But just as easily, it can talk
you out of productive tasks—like going to the gym
or applying for a job.
Like
a boss that can’t delegate, the PFC calculates all
possible routes and outcomes. Before long, your brain
is binge-watching worst-case scenarios while the amygdala
screams, “We’re doomed!” Anxiety cosplaying
as productivity.
Retardmaxxing
outsources thinking to the ‘second brain’
in our stomachs, where the task of thinking is performed
effortlessly. Lined with more than 100 million nerve cells,
the gut is a neurotransmitter factory, producing 95 percent
of our serotonin. It sends way more signals to our brain–via
the vagus nerve–than the brain sends back.
Gut
instinct is real. Your stomach analyzes environmental
stress, social vibes and immediate danger long before
your slow, deliberate prefrontal cortex can formulate
a complete sentence.
Have
you heard of the Yips? It’s what happens when elite
athletes suddenly forget how to perform a basic movement
because they’re thinking too hard about performing
it. The golfer can’t sink a two-foot putt. The pitcher
can’t find the strike zone. All because thinking
barged into the body’s territory.
Reflexes
are light-years faster than conscious thought. Elite athletes
don’t win by consciously directing their muscle
contractions. Rather, by getting out of their own way.
It’s why elite athletes often sound comically dim
in post-game interviews. You can’t be Cicero and
win 14 Grand Slams.
Because
the body is smarter than the ego. Your conscious mind
wants to look intelligent; your unconscious wants to perform
intelligently.
I
explained retardmaxxing to the one pro athlete I know,
an ex-OHL player, currently on a hockey scholarship at
Dalhousie. He looked me dead in the eye and said, “I’ve
been retardmaxxing my entire life.”
It
bypasses the tyranny of the ego. In college, you may have
studied the archetype of the Holy Fool. He appears in
Shakespearean drama, Italian Comedia dell’arte and
Russian literature. The Fool doesn’t care about
appearing smart and competent, but rather being effective.
Ego transcendence in a nutshell.
Lieutenant
Columbo mastered the art. Unbothered by looking foolish,
he asked dumb questions, bungled details and bypassed
the defensive armor of his hyper-intellectual, narcissistic
foils.
Congressman
Brandon Gill is a virtuoso retardmaxxer. Notice the blank
expression, the Brylcreemed forelock, the face of a small-town
high school football captain who accidentally wandered
into the halls of Congress.
Now
watch him question witnesses.
He
speaks slowly, with an easy Texas drawl. His questions
are short, plain–almost painfully earnest. He never
sounds clever. He doesn’t posture or grandstand.
Just one simple, obvious question after another.
Across
from him sit institutional elites—the opposite of
retardmaxxers: professors, bureaucrats and experts whose
authority relies on projecting intelligence. Rep. Gill
sidesteps all of it with a folksy cadence. Before they
know it, they’ve wandered into a trap of their own
making. The execution is so calm and matter-of-fact, you
almost pity them.
Ronald
Reagan was another stealth retardmaxxer. Consider the
following exchange between him and Jimmy Carter during
the 1980 presidential debate:
Carter:
Governor Reagan, as a matter of fact, began his political
career campaigning around this nation against Medicare.
Now, we have an opportunity to move toward national health
insurance. Governor Reagan, again, typically is against
such a proposal.”
Reagan:
“There you go again.”
It
was like watching two uncs at the Thanksgiving table:
one, a chronic hand-wringer; the other, breezing in with
a joke and a pumpkin pie. The audience laughed–the
spell was broken. Unc Reagan went on to win 44 states,
including California and New York.
It
derives from age-old wisdom. “Retardmaxxing”
sounds gritty and contemporary, but behind the edge-lord
veneer is wisdom handed down from the pristine heights
of classical philosophy.
Kierkegaard
argued that if you try to think your way to a perfect
decision, you will end up paralyzed by dread and anxiety.
The Stoics recognized rumination as a mental prison. Marcus
Aurelius always reminded himself that over-analyzing public
perception, future anxieties, or past mistakes was a waste
of energy. In Taoism, Wu Wei emphasizes Effortless Action–a
concept introduced by the wisest of warriors, Lao Tzu.
The
Bible frequently mentions retardmaxxing. In Ecclesiastes,
we are told: “Whoever watches the wind will not
plant; whoever looks at the clouds will not reap.”
King Solomon says if you wait for the perfect conditions
or try to analyze every outcome, you will accomplish nothing.
The theme of intellectual arrogance hindering action recurs
throughout Christian theology.
Have
I read Kierkegaard? Well, no. The Tao Te Ching or the
Stoics? Alas, no. But the Bible? Also no. The endless
‘begats’ and cubits and pronunciations of
Mephibosheth and Nebuchadnezzar and sentences that run
half a page were all too much for my retarded monkey brain.
However,
I did listen to Father Mike Schmitt’s hugely popular
Bible in a Year podcast. All those heavy themes of exile,
war, betrayal, idolatry, rape and murder? Father Mike
distilled them into an easy-to-swallow daily pill, and
relayed it all with the reassuring warmth of a kindergarten
teacher reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar.
I
didn’t know it at the time, but that’s true
retardmaxxing.
It
makes you funnier (and you have more fun). Unless you’re
German, ‘funny’ doesn’t come from the
prefrontal cortex. It’s what the dark impulses of
your Id must bypass for the funny to take shape. This
is the whole foundation of improv—what the world’s
funniest people all study.
Wit
is what happens when you strong-arm your ego into submission.
Charisma happens when you stop over-filtering your actions.
Those
internal filters—the mental scolds that toss doilies
on everything you say and do—they accrue as we develop
into adulthood. Retardmaxxing restores permission to yield
to non-malignant, child-like impulses and not obsess over
looking stupid or offending.
Retardmaxxing
is saying the ridiculous thing that pops into your head.
It’s doing the pool cannonball at the exclusive
country club. It’s introducing a little chaos to
a room full of stiffs.
The
mental filters are why we stop living. Conversation stiffens.
Humour dies. Nobody falls in love. Then end.
Retardmaxxing
is breaking free of The Machine. Like all great theories,
retardmaxxing reaffirms things we already knew. In particular,
that the smartphone outrage machine is a sustained assault
on your attention. The algorithm doesn’t inform;
it colonizes our minds and monetizes emotional volatility.
Every swipe is another dopamine pellet. Another outrage.
Another confirmation that civilization is circling the
drain.
Retardmaxxing
is about cancelling your emotional subscription. To observe
rather than judge the chaos and resist letting every contrary
opinion hijack your nervous system. You are not obliged
to react to unfolding events. The gospel according to
Elisha Long:
Retardmaxxing
= maximum cognitive security for traversing the schizophrenic
landscape.
The
internet is thousands of voices whispering in your head.
Let
nothing surprise you. Let nothing disturb your peace.
Let nothing corrupt your spirit.
Be
in the world, but not of the world.
Retardmaxx
it.
Living
in a permanent binary-judgment state of ‘this is
fine’ and ‘this is an outrage’ is a
recipe for psychic exhaustion and, ultimately, despair.
It’s
why I’m leaning hard into retardmaxxing. I’m
catching my brain before my hair lights on fire. I no
longer judge. Like the bearded Zen master sitting cross-legged
on a mountain, I observe. Judicious, detached, cosmically
serene and blissfully retarded.
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