Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

October 29, 2016

The importance of fitting a label.

Filed under: Wimminz — wimminz @ 12:50 pm

For some 40 odd years now people have been calling me a biker, I’ve pretty much always had a motorcycle, for long periods a motorcycle was all I had, I’ve ridden all sorts of places like for example UK to Greece and so on, and even done a stint or two long distance dispatch riding, which means minimum 2,500 miles a week, winter and summer… hell, I have a nice motorcycle outside right now.

But in myself I’ve never called myself a biker, I owned bikes for many reasons, and while I have enjoyed riding them places, I have also enjoyed the ability to get in a car, wind the windows down, turn the heaters on full pointed at my feet, and roll a cigarette and smoke it while doing 70 mph.

Things were a lot easier for me back in the day in warmer climes, getting on a bike was like getting in a car, whatever you were wearing, grab the keys, job done.

Today I’d need to get dressed up, leathers and boots and helmet as a minimum, maybe waterproofs if I was going anywhere / any distance, and that’s ten minutes getting dressed, whereas I can just walk out the door and get in the car, which is what I will do today, despite it not raining, despite it being an overcast but so far dry 12 degrees (C) not exactly horrendous riding/driving conditions.

Today you see I have a choice, I do actually have a motorcycle and a car at the same time, for much of my life this was not true, and the other factor is age, which means time, which means experience, I’ve ridden everywhere in every weather, and the novelty has worn off.

Which is OK, because I didn’t spend the last 40 years calling myself a biker, because if I had my current attitudes would quite justifiably get me branded the most wimpy least committed biker in the country, while all the punk kids on their 125’s ride short journeys around town every day in all weathers.

See, that’s the other thing, I can’t see the point in making a short journey around town on a motorcycle.

But wait, it gets worse, most of my car journeys are to places and people, and I don’t want to ride a motorcycle to places and people, I just want to go out for a ride, and not go anywhere or see anyone… it’s no longer a form of transport for me, in that sense.

So we have an issue here with labels, “biker” doesn’t fit, nor do any of the variants like “Born again biker” etc, and it is an issue because human beings insist on using labels as a form of shorthand categorisation of everything, and when you do not fit the label they have given you, why, then it is your fault of course.

As discussed a post or two ago, what label do you use for someone who can talk about paedophilia on a blog but who in real life goes to great lengths to let everyone know that they absolutely will not be left alone with any children because it is the only viable method left to minimise the risk of being falsely accused in the future of historical sex offences? It certainly isn’t one of the usual mainstream labels, and that causes issues, because the whole point of labelling is to simplify and categorise.

I had a not a million miles away false historical allegation swing by me a year or so ago, I’d taken the bike to go to a job and someone at that site decided that I reminded them of the biker who had sex with them at a rally back in 1990… and my “never seen you before in my life” was met with a hand that waved it away with a dismissal, they were ever more sure it was me, and not just me, but biker me, until I pointed out I wasn’t even in the UK in 1990, one of my several extended periods abroad, so good luck with that one girl.

Of course the guys are all WTF dude, you should have hooked up with her, whoever it was obviously floated her boat, you’d have had a free fuck.

As I type I have an extra free fuck, the chick is in to me, and 25 years younger than me, and leaving aside all the other negative points, the significant one is she accused her ex of domestic violence, to da po-po… not just privately “my ex was a bastard” but actually made a complaint.

There is a label for you, I can put my hand on my heart and tell you I have no fucking idea if her complaint was valid and truthful, or false, or anywhere in between, I don’t care, she made a complaint.

The label is she ran to someone else and complained instead of shutting the fuck up, eating that shit and learning that lesson, that label tells me everything I need to know, she is unfuckable. Even a free fuck on offer holds no attraction.

The free fuck isn’t an irresistible lure, the nice harley parked outside isn’t an irresistible lure, both *would* have been, many moons past, but many moons have passed since then, and being out on a bike no matter what the weather or road conditions isn’t the lure it once was… not that it was, so much as I was in place A and wanted to be in place B, and the motorcycle was the only practical way on offer.

The next new cunt looks a *lot* different in your head and heart when you have had maybe 3 in your entire life, and when you’ve lost count of how many you had, you can put labels on it, call it “experience” or call it “getting old” or call it “been there done that” but it is all the same thing at heart, it ain’t new to me any more.

And that’s the label that counts, it is no longer new and exciting and unexplored, it’s a re-run, so I know what I like and unless I’m getting what I like, I ain’t interested.

It’s not ennui, it’s getting refined tastes.

Tomorrow is supposed to be a bit warmer and sunnier, I’ll think about a ride tomorrow… if not next summer ain’t that far away…

Which is why, I have ALWAYS been troubled by people who have allegedly done some *thing* their entire fucking lives, and yet who can’t bear to be dragged away from it, and can’t face the prospect of losing it.

It’s possibly the most significant difference between Hitlary and Trump, property and resort development, it’s like booooorrrrring… maybe a casino on a spaceship or mars, but short of that, it’s all been there done that got the tee shirt bought the tee shirt factory, so politics as another aspect of business and going from being a billionaire to being the first trillionaire… I can see that.

The clintons, noses in the political trough their entire lives, billy boy made POTUS so that’s all that’s left for hitlary… I CAN’T SEE THAT SHIT.

I can’t see the after dinner speaking circuit or the corporate board membership either, houseboat down in the smokee goin alligator fishin’ I can see… wanting to stay in the game another ten years…. no, can’t see it.

Moralistic issues aside, one the one hand we have the fat ugly screeching triggered feminist, and on the other hand we have this..

Guess that’s what happens when all that non existent (cos we ain’t born with penises are we grrrrls…) male privilege is removed from the table and all you have to offer is your body, suddenly taking care of the appearance of that body matters.

Now there ain’t none of these I’d give house space to, but I’d fuck a few of them, which puts them all a million miles ahead of most of their western counterparts, but the killer is (language barriers aside) I’d be quite happy to sit at a bar and shoot the shit with them all night, no sex, because unlike their western counterparts they might have interesting things to say, or realistic aspirations in life.

Notable the significant numbers of white men hanging out there, but again, if you’d been going for 4 weeks every year since 1977, wouldn’t you think that by now you’d want a change, something different, something new, something where you can feel the quality.

Notable none of the white men know how to play the game there, all dressed in tee shirts of cheap cotton shirts and cargo pants…


… stroll down there in a silk shirt with a light cotton jacket over your shoulder and some chinos and leather shoes (miami vice) and you’ll be beating them off with a stick.


*you* will be the something new, that doesn’t really fit any label, and that was always what was wrong with the biker label for me, it certainly wasn’t the right label, not even close, but I was more biker than many who declared themselves as such, and it was a label that at least was not as incorrect as many others.

Trump, for his due, labels hitlary correctly “She’s a criminal” and the donald would know, given lifelong dealings with mafiosi and teamsters, the clinton campaign labels everyone else incorrectly, assange is a paedo, trump is a misogynist, the beat goes on.

Like the pussy riot skanks, I could only vote in the us elections by becoming a dead democrat and voting several times, unlike them my choice would actually be very simple and very basic.

I’d be voting for the candidate who used labels most accurately.

It’s what happened in the Brexit vote, I’d guess that 75% of those who voted remain did so because they bought the fear and awe campaign, and I’d guess that 75% of those who voted exit did so because the fear and awe campaign was so obviously vile and false.

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