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July 14, 2022 - Tate Speech - Andrew Tate
13:32
Tate on Christmas
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Merry Christmas!
I decided to do a Christmas message because I think a lot of people have the wrong idea about me.
They look at me and they go, you hear about that tape guy, you know, he's a four-time kickboxing world champion, he's tall, he's He's got a world-class network, every worldly good a man can possibly desire, unlimited beautiful females begging to birth his sons.
Surely, he's arrogant.
But no, I'm as humble as they come.
I'm a nice guy.
For that reason, I decided to make this Christmas message to inspire all of you lessers and peons to one day possibly get onto my level.
So this is going to be an inspiring message for you all.
Sorry about that.
Obviously, I'm trying to film my Christmas message, and they sent a very polite man to tell me that although I spent $10,000 on this hotel suite over Christmas, along with all the other rich Qataris and everyone else who has the great idea of staying in such a beautiful hotel in London, that I'm not allowed to smoke.
I said, for $10,000 a night, my friend, I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want.
So I apologize for the interruption.
Anyway, where was I with my Christmas message?
The message for next year is to never give up.
I think so many of you out there, you're existing in your peasant life.
You wake up when the alarm goes off.
You go to your job.
Sorry. My balls. Okay, you go to your job.
Crazy.
You get paid your wages and you're like, how did Tate get all that money?
That guy has a hundred million dollars and here I am slaving away and maybe at the end of the month, I might get five or six thousand.
I can pay my 401k.
I know it's easy.
to look at me and realize that I'm a better specimen of man.
In fact, not only am I a better specimen of man, I am actually fulfilled with divine purpose.
I'm one of God's favorites.
Imagine you're God.
You're building people all day.
You're gonna end up going, you know what?
Let me make a really cool one.
I mean, you make the peons and the peasants and then you're like, you know what?
Let me just make a real badass just to see what happens.
I'm God's favorite.
So I know you're looking at me thinking, I'm working my job and my life's shit.
And I'm never gonna be able to buy Bugatti Chirons on my debit card or stay in hotels for $10,000 a night and tell the concierge to get fucked and smoke anyway before all my women come around for my Christmas gangbang.
I know.
But I don't want you to ever give up.
Because that's what this Christmas message is about.
I don't want you to ever give up.
Just because you're gonna die and nobody's gonna give a shit doesn't mean you shouldn't try your very best when you're here on Earth.
I mean, it's Christmas Day today.
You're about to have Christmas dinner with a bunch of other insignificant losers.
Think about it.
Your dad's a fucking bitch.
Your mom's stupid.
Your sister, brother, whoever.
Losers.
Aunt.
Aunt.
Your aunt.
That favorite aunt.
Dumb as fuck.
I mean, they might be successful to you.
Like, she has a BMW.
They're not actually successful.
They don't actually put ripples into spacetime.
If they died, nobody would care.
And when you die, nobody's gonna care.
And you're going to raise very average children, because you're a very average person.
And it's just like a continuum of meteorocracy.
A continuum of insignificance.
You're all going to die eventually, and nobody's ever going to care.
I mean, the other peons who know the peon, someone might write a Facebook post, but no one, the world doesn't give a shit.
So I know that upsets you a little bit, and if it doesn't, fucking should.
And you're thinking, but I want to make a ripple in space-time.
I wanna be like Tate.
I wanna be cool.
And you're thinking, but I can't.
I just don't have the genetic gifts.
I don't want you to ever give up.
I want you to believe in yourself.
If you try really, really hard, and you work, and you save all your money.
Okay, no, still ain't gonna work.
All right, let me change it.
If you go to the gym every single day, And you train as hard as you can, and you eat right, and you stick to a diet, while all I do is booze and smoke.
No, I'll still be stronger than you.
That ain't gonna work either.
In fact, it's actually quite interesting.
What I would like you to do, my Christmas present to you all, is some self-awareness.
If you watch this video, I'd actually like you to genuinely undertake the following exercise.
I'd like you to go into the bathroom, strip down to your underwear, and look in the mirror what an average piece of shit you are.
You're such an average piece of shit that you don't even have the self-control to be selective about what food goes in and out of your own fucking mouth and to lift some weights up and down for 20 minutes a day so you don't look like complete trash.
You can't even do that!
You look like shit!
It's the easiest thing in the world to change.
It's a biological certainty that if you stop eating like a gluttonous moron, And go do bare minimum exercise, you're going to be in the top five percentile of body shapes on the planet.
And you haven't even managed to do that.
You're a fuck-up.
What kind of fucking human existence is that?
They talk about average.
Hey, I'm just your normal guy.
The normal guy is a fucking loser.
The average guy is a fucking loser.
If the average guy and me want the same pussy, guess who's getting it?
And that girl, when I get it, she will share me with other women, she will never complain at me, and she'll do anything I say.
When the average guy gets it, he has to give up his whole life to keep her.
He has to marry her!
Love you.
Gay.
Nothing gayer than getting married to a chick.
I want you people to understand something.
For this last year, and I know it doesn't seem very long ago that it was New Year's, right?
For this last year, you've had all these big hopes and dreams and aspirations, and you've achieved precisely fucking none of them.
You've made a little bit of money.
You paid your rent.
You bought some food.
With your spare money, you bought a bit of Bitcoin and watched the Bitcoin price, praying for it to go to... I don't know what you guys even need it to go to to be rich.
You don't even have a Bitcoin, so we need to go to fucking 100 million for your fraction to be worth something?
Losers!
And you've achieved nothing.
You know that the world's getting locked down.
You know that global enslavement's coming.
You've not even managed to get a second passport.
You haven't joined the war room and got a second passport.
You haven't had endless women birth your sons.
You have progeny.
You haven't built a bloodline.
You've done nothing.
You call your year successful because you've managed to eat and pay your rent the whole way through.
Congratulations.
And on top of all of it, something which is effectively free to do, that we just discussed, like go to the gym a little bit and not look like fucking human garbage, You've once again failed that.
But I don't want you to ever give up.
I want you to truly, truly believe in yourself.
And I hope that next year things are different.
I hope next year that your brutally mundane existence is blessed with blossoms of excitement.
I hope you get to live with some adrenaline.
I hope you get to be spontaneous.
I hope beautiful women actually want to talk to you.
I hope you tell your boss to get fucked.
I hope you get to live the life I get to live every single day.
For even a week of the 52.
Just one week to see how gorgeous life is from outside the Matrix.
I really hope you get to do that.
The odds are you won't, of course.
Because you have been conditioned to be a fucking slave.
Because everybody you know is a slave.
Everyone around you is slave-minded.
So of course you're a product of your environment.
Think about the people you're having Christmas dinner with.
Do you want to be any of them?
Fuck no!
You don't want to be any of them people.
We're all fucking losers.
You know, earlier today, this is a completely true story, I was having lunch, minding my own business, having lunch by myself, eating roast turkey, when some guy, a little bit drunk, but polite, Hey man, I've seen you on YouTube.
You made that video calling out Jake Paul.
He had the fur coat on.
Hey, this guy's from YouTube, points at his friends.
Hey, man!
Hey!
They're all a bit drunk.
I'm like, hey, guys.
Hey, come have a drink!
Come have a drink!
I was like, oh, for fuck's sake.
I didn't really want to, but it's Christmas.
I'm humble.
Sure, I'll come have a drink.
So I'm sitting there with six dudes, all 30-something guys, right?
Turns out... Turns out they all work together.
And he's a middle manager of some finance firm.
Some other guy's an intern at some finance firm, etc.
What do you do, mate?
And you know what's actually when you know you're brilliant?
You know you're brilliant when you don't want to tell the truth about yourself.
Because you know it's going to be awkward when everybody pales into insignificance.
Like, I'm trying to be polite now.
So I don't want to come to the table and everyone hate me.
I don't want to spread any negativity.
But if I tell the truth about myself without bragging, everyone's going to be miserable.
I'm a kickboxer.
Oh, you're a kickboxer?
I used to do a bit of kickboxing.
Yeah.
Oh, really?
You're a kickboxer?
So that's your job?
Yeah, I'm a kickboxer.
Oh, really?
So you were good then?
I was okay.
Oh yeah, no, this guy's a world champion.
You're a world champion kickboxer.
And what happened across the next five minutes of conversation is, well, every time they talked about women or cars or where they've been or what they do or their job or who they are or their accolades or anything, I destroyed them.
I didn't even mean to.
I was just existing.
Oops, I'm a kickboxer.
Yeah, I'm a multimillionaire.
Yes, I'm staying in the best hotel.
Yes, the fucking Lambo outside is mine.
Yes, I'm sorry.
I'm fucking sorry, okay?
But it's not my fault.
They're just so fucking lame.
I can't even sit around normal dudes and tell the truth without just people ending up going quiet.
They stopped talking.
They stopped telling their stories.
They stopped interacting with each other.
Because before me, it was all, hey, you know what, next year I might buy that BMW.
But when I'm at the table, you can't say that.
You can't say it.
I just look like a fucking loser.
Because you are a loser!
That's how the world works.
It's all about comparison.
So you're sitting around the Christmas table.
You're sitting with your family saying, Hey, you know what?
This has been a really good year for me.
I've managed to pay my rent, and I've eaten food, and I've managed to save up, and I've bought 0.2 Bitcoin.
And next year, I really hope I get a 10% raise at work.
And you know what your family's going to say?
Do you know what I would say?
I'd say you're a fuck-up.
I'd say you've wasted an entire fucking year and done nothing of significance.
I'd say the things you've done last year pale in comparison to the things I've done last year, and the things that you will do next year pale in comparison to the things I will do.
It is a spiral, a death spiral, in which you will perpetually fail in comparison to Andrew Tate for the rest of your fucking human years.
And when you die, if by some freak accident our graves end up next to each other, everyone's gonna read my headstone and ignore yours.
Because you're fucking average.
And there is nothing worse on this planet than Mr. Fucking Average.
Nothing about you.
From the way you look, to the things you say, to the people you associate with, absolutely nothing about you is exceptional.
You are brutally mundane.
Your last year, if I was forced to endure it, would be a level of depression in which I have never experienced.
Your last year, the happiest day of your life, was worse than the average Tuesday of my existence.
Your last year was shit.
Your upcoming year is going to be shit.
You look like shit.
You think like shit.
Everything about you is shit.
And unless you do some kind of massive, dramatic overhaul of your entire existence, you are going to die as the piece of shit you are.
If by some freak accident and I pray to God this doesn't happen because it would be it would stain me even in death.
If by some freak accident, your tombstone and my tombstone end up next to each other, everybody's gonna read mine and ignore yours.
You're insignificant, like all the other billions of people in history who are insignificant, who died and nobody gave a fuck.
We still talk about the kings of old.
Don't worry, they'll talk about me when I'm gone, and my son will continue bringing honor to the bloodline.
The name Tate is here to stay, but you?
You don't mean a fucking thing.
And your children don't mean a fucking thing, and your shit family don't mean a fucking thing.
All of you are insignificant.
You're the peons and the peasants, which have been dying since the dawn of human time, and nobody gave a fuck.
Merry Christmas.
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