So, what’s it like getting old, the kid says to me, which was pretty off the wall considering I’d just managed to elicit the “you are dead to me and do not exist” response from some silly bint by pointing out, quite correctly, that she was a delusional bitch and the architect of her own downfall, and nothing in her future indicated any likely change.
I did a hnuh sort of laugh and smiled, it sucks kid, but not the way you’d think.
There is a constant production of stuff, TV shows, films, literature, news stories, reportage, and indeed porn and video games, and it all feels like the monty python spam sketch, I’ve seen it all before.
Partially this is my fault, with a few incredibly rare exceptions and circumstances, if I have seen it or read it once, there is zero attraction is viewing or watching or reading it a second time, it’s like going out for a sunday drive, and driving the route from your work to your home, but not as different as that would be…
I’ve seen and had every variety of cunt and asshole and tits there is, and the not so varied personalities that inhabit them, I’ve ridden and driven enough different vehicles on enough different roads that frankly no, I don’t give a shit if <insert maker here> is bringing out an all new model for 2014, it won’t be different enough.
I’ve also done enough of the off beat off piste off colour off spec custom shite that none of that holds any allure either, fucking factory 2014 harley ain’t interesting, some asswipe at chlamydia county choppers throwing 20k worth of chrome and billet at it don’t make it any more interesting, just makes it even less rideable.
I want my fucking flying car. Hell, I’ll settle for a self driving car that is genuinely 100% self driving.
I want the next gen display screen with 1 mm square RGB pixels that I can hang like wallpaper… on all four fucking walls and the fucking ceiling, it’s not a holodeck but it’ll do.
I want fucking AI, real AI, that can simulate an intelligent person to have a conversation with, or that can simulate porn, or anything else I want, but credibly, no uncanny valley stuff.
I want the fucking clothes synth, that can make me new clothes every day, and shred and wash the old ones when I feed them into the hopper at night.
I want the domestic service droid that can cook and clean and make me a coffee the way I like it and bring it to me too.
I want to be able to legally shoot in the head every asshole that annoys me, hell that and some longevity serum and I could single-handedly consume the DHS ammo stash.
I want to go back, or ahead, to a time when what you wore, what you rode, what you did, all actually said something quite specific about you, you know, back in the day when there was one proper custom chop in amongst the rest of the bikes outside the bar (and it was prolly mine… fnaar fnaar) and you could walk in the bar and unerringly immediately identify the fucking owner.
NOT this sort of shit
What the holy flying fuck, specifically the last pic on the pics page…
Jesus fucking wept bitch, what the holy flying fuck is going on these days???
IF you got your pic taken ON your fucking bike, you were riding the cunt.
If you weren’t riding the cunt, you were kicked back and chilled, not holding on to the bars like it is some fucking childrens ride in the supermarket entrance way…
That’s how you do it… by all means put ONE fucking hand on the bars, casual like, but not both, ever, and hey, my bitch never touched the bars on my bitch, and my bitch was ridden properly, note the scrubbing on the tyres and the fucking front “silencer”.. and yeah if you’re interested 44t rear sprocket, 4speed and kicker, and SU carb.
You see what I mean about defined roles, self declared bohemian biker bitch in the top pic wouldn’t be seen dead on on a skanky old 4 speed shovel, which incidentally used to average just under 70 mpg thanks to the rear sprocket on long runs to various Mediterranean locations, which she also wouldn’t be seen dead doing.
But I’ve DONE ALL THAT SHIT, it is the overstatement of the century to say that this boy is notably underwhelmed when born again bohemian biker bitch and her ilk decide to get all radical and go buy themselves a harley or a 1400 bindit to park in the garage and pose on like a dweeb on sunny days.
It’s not just ennui, the local guy I talked about a few days ago who has ridden everywhere on a little honda c90… now that is class, the bint in the first pic, it’s just fucking window dressing.
The bint in the second pic, her first real experience of pillion was on the back of that shovel, and this was the trip, 3,000 road miles, bitch was all gung ho before we left, and her freinds telling her how beautiful mont blanc and the tunnel and the alps is in late Feb early March, and all that other good shit… and fuck yeah she has ridden bitch before with other guys and loved it… I just laughed and said your friends ain’t never done it on a motorsickle baby, not even at the very leisurely 500 miles a day pace I had intended to set for a newbie like her, 8 or 9 hours in the saddle each day…. and you ain’t never done it with me.
Camping in the foothills of the alps on snow, get up, pack up, load up, fire up and hit the road in search of coffee, and then the long climb through the snow and dropping temperatures up to the top, it wasn’t fun for her any more.
We’d been married a few months, which was a fucking mistake anyway, but that trip killed it, I used up the last of my authority and influence, and by the end of it nothing on god’s green earth could have persuaded her to get back on the bitch, she flew back, I said fuck it and stayed another six or eight months, I forget now, came home to divorce papers..lol
Bohemian biker bint is cut from the same cloth, and it is old and boring and tired and seen it all fast forwards to the end, skip, skip, skip, don’t wanna see it again, life is too fucking short.
It ain’t new.
Sit here in my man cave and check out the cunt on the internet, damn if there is much out there I actually want to fuck, see, I can’t conceal my experience, and my attitude, and these delusional bitches fucking HATE it.
Bad boys get all the cunt huh, not so fucking much, like everything else, it suffers from the sweet shop syndrome, sweet tight virgins, done it, 16 year olds, done it, porn stars, done it, just dropped a kid in the last 12 hours, done it, just about to drop, done it, and not once, and not just those things.
I’ve met one, just one, that had something new to offer that would have kept me happy for a few years till that got old news too, and quelle fucking surprise she was as delusional and fucked up as the rest, so that was a non starter too.
Gaddafi type despot with my own harem of slave girls, nope, not done that, not likely to either, more’s the pity…
That’s what I miss kid, the sense of *everything* being new and unknown.
I could do with some brown ale, but I can’t be assed to go out and get some, seeing as I am already mostly nekkid and relaxed, fuck it, I’ll make do with some OJ and coffee and a smoke and some zap de spion…
Now, about my fucking flying car…
(I’d tell y’all to geddof ma fucking lawn, but I aint got one…lol)