Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

September 21, 2013

Nooo Peee Ceee – part deux

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , — wimminz @ 8:07 pm

Ok, so lets start with some pix..

20130921_103005 20130921_103022
20130921_103058 20130921_103048

You see this is the thing I like about the Noctua HSF, although it comes with dual fans you can remove one and it is still a kick ass HSF, taking the maximum possible volume between the banks of ram, gfx card and the case panel.

Because I bought good spec, and because I attached the two Vector SSD’s to the Intel sta3 ports and not the Marvell ones, and because I wasn’t daft enough to stripe them, one click on the inbuilt motherboard easy tune and you can choose between fast and very fast, where fast is 100% stable and within limits for everything, in my case an instant 25% overclock… 4.875 GHz.. this is rock stable and air cooled and fucking silent, but most of the time the cores are running as low as 1.3 GHz doing lowly shit like firing up office or simply unpacking an archive…. the RAM is of course overclocked by the same amount.

My archive test file / folder was 4,710,951,556 bytes in size and contained 2,941 Files and 119 Folders, and it wwas basically a backup copy of the internal storage of my mobile, so *every* imaginable kind of file in there, movies, music, photos and of course the entire android / dalvik OS for the phone itself.

Decompressing it takes 31 seconds.

Compressing that to a new archive with normal compression works all 8 (or if you prefer all 4 dual cores) processors at around 75% utilization and 90% clock … for 2 minutes and 29 seconds.  Compressed it is a 4.18 gig rar

If it set it to maximum compression in takes 2 minutes 35, and gives a 4.07 gig rar.

If I set compression to store, eg none to speak of, it takes 17 seconds, and gives a 4.38 gig rar

Now I could have sat here and talked about playing Crysis 2 at 1920 x 1080 on a 46″ screen with every possible graphics setting set to the highest possible setting and the whole think being silky smooth and gorgeous, but really, if that sort of thing is all there is then buy a fucking games console.

HD Tune Pro is giving me max / min figures of 359 / 293 megabytes/sec for both SSD’s. They should be the same, they are identical. This is the Benchmark test by the way, closest to real world, I could have quoted the random seek for a 8 megabyte file test, which gave 509 megabytes/sec.. the image below / right is actual from this box and test series.


As for noise, I can hear the battery electric clock in the bedroom (I’m in the lounge) tick, but the only way I can hear any noise at all from this thing is by putting my head behind it, and I can then hear the gentle sigh of the exhaust fan… or by putting  CD/DVD in the drive.

Main-board is 38 degrees and CPU is 36, CPU fan is doing 580 rpm, the two chassis fans (both 120mm) are doing 690 and 770 rpm, ambient in here with the heating on is about 23/24.

This, to me, is the result of the ethos described in part one, FUCKING silent, FUCKING cool running, FUCKING stable, FUCKING fast



September 15, 2013

I’ll buy that for a dollar….

Of course it’s the line from Robocop, I fucking dread to think what the reboot will be like, the old movies were very tongue in cheek and slightly anarchic, having seen the trailer for the new one, it seems to be little more than an cgi explosion orgasm, with no doubt a few strong leading wimminz thrown in.

The point is though, the bald guy with glasses with a skank ho on each arm uttering that line in the film, yup, at 50c each they were “worth it”.

Winter is coming and I just bought another quartz electric fire for the kitchen in the mornings, I put in on for 30/45 minutes when I get up and before I go to work,  I buy one every year because without fail at least one of the bars dies every year, and at around 20 bucks a pop they are essentially a disposable item, not something you would ever trust to leave on and walk away.

At 20 bucks a pop, they are “worth it”, same as the two skanks above, not because it is great value for money, but because it is cheap enough there is no hesitation or pain involved when it comes time to throw it in the trash.

Basically, there are three ways to meet wimminz;

  1. Directly in real life
  2. Virtually on-line
  3. Via the agency or actions of others

and each of those can be subdivided;

  1. Directly in real life
    1. Socially at a pub
    2. At work
    3. Randomly when shopping etc
  2. Virtually on-line
    1. pay per sites
    2. free sites
  3. Via the agency or actions of others
    1. set up dates by matchmaking friends
    2. invitations to events such as weddings

I have colour coded these, red text is never ever fucking do it, it always has the potential to cost you a LOT of money, purple is danger will robinson, your judgement is affected and you are spending money, green is I’ll buy that for a dollar.

Which brings us to several important points.

  • If you are looking for something, you may as well set your stall out and state exactly what you are looking for, and exactly what you offer in exchange.
  • If you treat making a sale, any sale, as a greater priority than making the exact sale you want, then, by definition, you are not going to be happy with the sale, so, by definition, you are deliberately setting yourself up for disappointment and dissatisfaction.
  • If you allow others to “haggle” you to a difference price, then you are in the same boat as above.
  • If you are quite content to sit there every day reading a book, and not making any sales or getting any kind of interest, you are golden.

Which brings us back to the various methods by which you can meet wimminz, the red text methods are all ways in which you are guaranteed to NOT be able to just set out your stall and sit back and chill.

The red text methods are all market trader methods, doing whatever it takes to make a sale.

Red Pill is a LIFESTYLE choice mother-fucker, if you are allowing mates to set you up on blind dates, if you are allowing wimminz at work to flirt with you, if you are paying agencies such as websites to get you in contact with wimminz, then you are not red pill, you are a blue pill niggerz.

Time to fucking man up bitch.

Stop investing ANYTHING of yourself or your time or your emotions or your money, over a dollar, on wimminz.

The purple text, well, it depends where you go, the pub I go to, when I go to a pub which isn’t that often any more (I used to practically live in the bastards, there at opening time and still there at chucking out, 7 days a week) is a red pill pub, chances are there will be not much more than a dozen guys there, all mature, all doing their own thing, no fucking wimminz, not even behind the bar. Red Pill.

If I went across the road to the student pub, which is heaving, it would be Blue Pill. Because I am making a conscious choice to occupy the same room as a bunch of skank ho entitlement pwincesses.


Sure, lots of the “buy that for a dollar” wimminz I talk to flake and fade away, and what have I lost? So I don’t get a fuck I was never going to get, or I do get a fuck with crazy, there is no mileage whatsoever in thinking maybe if I message her, if the bitch was into you she will message you, if she does not message you she is not into you, and you messaging her ain’t gonna change that.

What it WILL fucking change is you, it makes you a market trader, desperate for a sale, a pussy begging mangina niggerz mother-fucker…. because you just invested more than that thing was ever worth, and not a guaranteed buy and get, but to con yourself you are still in the game.

Back in the 70’s I knew a couple of guys who used to travel around all the pubs and hotels doing auctions, they would promo it for 24 hours prior, do the auction, and literally skit to the next town and start the 24 hour promo.

They sold pens, they used to buy them for 50 pence and sell then for 4 pounds and 50 pence, a 900% markup making 4 quid profit.

If you went to their auctions, you would never ever know or realise they were selling pens, because they had a bunch of quite good stuff, surplus stock, all going cheap, cheap because it was surplus and not much markup, and it consisted of anything they could get. So you get ghetto blasters and stuff brand new for 49 quid instead of 110 and shit like that…

You get 100 people at a pub auction, and maybe 20 high value items going cheap, you’ll sell maybe 10 or 12 of them.

The stick was, the auction starter, he would go into the sales spiel, describe some of the high value items coming up, all genuinely quite tempting stuff, and then he would hit them with it, so I know you are all genuine buyer I am offering these fine quality metal cartridge ball point pens each one worth 9.99 at just 4.50 a pop, and only those who can bid by waving  one of these pens at me can bid on these other luxury items and fantastic prices.

He’d sell 50 pens in the next 5 minutes…

He’d sell more pens in a day than a large stationers would sell in a week.

Bait and switch.

He’d never say he sold pens, or a bait and switch low ball cognitive dissonance merchant, he’d say he was an entrepreneur pulling in over a grand a week.

Same way blue bill mangina niggerz will never admit to being such a thing, they will tell you how many bitches they have on the go, and bear in mind, the pen guy was one of the few smart enough and hard working enough to actually pull it off.

Sure, he made a lot more than a dollar, but he invested a lot more than a dollar, way too much to walk away from with the casual disregard you will walk away from a half full dollar cup of coffee, and not give a second thought ever again to the half a cup of coffee left, or the 50c it cost you.

So the thing to do is avoid, completely, like the plague, all those things in red text, just don’t turn up for it, enforce it with your total absence from the game.

And the green text stuff, if it involves anything of any value from you, don’t do it.

How the fuck can you sit home alone in your man cave you fucking techno hermit, is the response, because the blue pill says alone = lonely and saddo, and the blue pill says you have to go out and meet wimminz to get any cunt, and the blue pill says a lot of other shit.

And it is like the punters at the pen sellers auction, they all think they are being smart and clever and are watching out for all the expected tricks on the high value items coming up, and none of them notices that every single one of them just got taken.

Shop like a man, whether it is groceries or cunt, go in with a list stating exactly what you want, look at and for nothing else, put that and nothing else in the trolley, and accept no substitutions or BOGOF deals of any kind, pay up, GTFO.

I go to one wal mart sized outlet near me, I buy the packs of 24 bog rolls if the price is right, and I buy the 1 Kg instant coffee tubs if the price is right, and I buy the proper coffee packets if the price is right, so sometimes I’ll buy one of those things, or two, or all three… sometimes I’ll walk out empty, and I never buy anything else…. I don’t go there very often, I don’t have to, I am a single man and I have 2 x 24 sealed packs of bog rolls stashed in the bathroom… cos they were a deal at 50c a roll.

I’ll buy that for a dollar.

September 14, 2013

Safe sex

This is a thing you’ll see used almost universally on profiles and discussions on swinging / fucking sites, what they are actually talking about is the guy wearing a condom while fucking the wimminz in the cunt or ass.

Blowjobs are not included, so of course there is wilful and deliberate ignorance (that gets very irate and very angry very fast if you dare to challenge it) about the relative risks of STD transmission via oral sex vs vaginal and anal sex.

Red pill alert.

What you are about to read is raw red pill, this may expose you to the fact that you have been blue pill thinking this, all the while thinking you were red pill all the way.

  1. If you actually study the subject, you’ll find that the term STD in its broadest sense can cover all sorts of things from the truly serious such as HIV all the way down to “I have an itch”, and in some case is even expanded to cover things that are not diseases, such as pubic lice.
  2. If you actually study the subject, two things leap out at you,
    1. Condoms, when treated as a preventative of STD transmission, have varying efficiencies depending on the disease in question, with rates ranging for a 60% reduction in risk up to a 99% reduction in risk, but, same as for pregnancy, condoms are not 100% effective
    2. In the cases of *some* STDs, condoms can actually *increase* the risk of transmission, vs bareback.
  3. Now, one of the things people really do not want to discuss is the *huge* disparity between transmission risk, depending on *direction*

Let’s take #3 first, on one side we have the “receptacle” which is what it says it is, INTERNAL flesh, be it mouth ass or cunt, on the other side we have the cock.

Transmission from receptacle to cock is much much much harder than transmission from cock to receptacle.

If you are a hetero guy (holds up hand) who *never* eats or licks cunt (holds up hand) you are way ahead of the game, because you have zero receptacles.

If you eat cunt you have one receptacle.

If you are a bi/gay guy you have two receptacles.

If you are a wimminz you have three receptacles.

Just as not all diseases are equal, not all receptacles are equal, some diseases prefer oral as an infection path, some prefer vaginal or anal.

And of course not all cunts or mouths are equal, different brands of soap, different diet, all kinds of things come in to play, so it is the same as not everyone in the office getting the cold bug that goes around.

So, the first part of this red pill on safe sex is that wimminz be most at risk of catching something, and guys like me be least at risk, and the risk *gap* between those two cases is fucking huge.

You simple CANNOT take transmission risks from cock to receptacle, and from receptacle to cock, and lump them all together in one big pile. It is dishonest.

I want to take a moment to talk about risk, if wearing a condom is “safe sex”, then you can simply pop one on, and fuck some skank with HIV, no problem, you’re protected…. right? no?

No, lets say condoms are 90% proof against HIV

Lets say as a man with HIV, fucking a wimminz who is “clean” gives you a 1 in 20 chance of infection, e.g. on average if you fuck her 20 times you can statistically / probability wise almost guarantee infection, fuck her 10 times is a 50/50 risk, fuck her once its a 1 in 20 (but, that first shot could also be on target..)

Add a prophylactic, with 90% reduction in risk, which is 9 outta 10

If it was 1 in 20 before, it’s now 1 in 200, so fuck her 200 times you can statistically / probability wise almost guarantee infection, but, that first shot might also do the job, depending on your luck.

In other words, when play with risks it is just a question of iteration, if you keep playing long enough you roll a six, add a bother dice and keep playing long enough and you’ll roll a double six, add another dice and keep playing long enough and you’ll roll a treble six.

This then is not “safe” anything, sure, it is safe-er, but that ain’t how it is marketed.

Russian roulette with a revolver with 1,000 chambers and 1 bullet is not safe Russian roulette, it is just safe-er than playing with a six gun, keep playing and you die, 100% guaranteed.

Nothing that is 100% guaranteed depending on the number of iterations is “safe”.

Less people die per air-plane mile than per auto-mobile mile, so it is safe-er, but, the flip-side is there are no fender benders that everyone walks away from completely uninjured when a plane crashes.

So to reiterate the first part of this red pill, while using condoms can REDUCE risk, it doesn’t eliminate it, and in any event it is a tiny bit like pregnancy in the sense that it is mainly a wimminz problem, and the more you fuck the more likely you’ll hit the jackpot.

The second part of this red pill is human nature, people driving clunkers with dodgy brakes drive a lot more carefully than that same person in a car with airbags / ABS / ESS / etc, it’s a known fact, we all have a safety comfort zone, this is too unsafe and dangerous, this is too safe and boring, this is just right, so if you alter things and give them a safer car, they drive more aggressively to get back into that comfort zone.

Hand anyone a bunch of condoms and talk about safe sex, and they will go out and fuck people that they would not fuck bareback.

Disagree with me all you like, I’m a 50+ year old man who has seen and done it all, and that is all I have ever seen. Take it as Gospel.

The third part of this red pill is symbolism, totems, and bullshit.

I’m gonna talk about the swinging community, and again as a 50+ year old man who has seen and done it all, let me tell you the difference between the swinging community and everyone else.

Swingers admit they fuck around.

Bit like the old joke about there being two types of men, those who admit to having a wank, and liars.

Swingers admit they fuck around, and often the condom, or lack of it, is used to make a distinction without a difference, a line in the sand, a way of differentiating one person they are fucking from the others, that’s it, a psychobabble prop.

To use the russian roulette analogy, this is like being presented with a selection of revolvers, the safe sex swingers / fuckbuddies which are 1,000 chamber jobs, and your regular partner / husband / wife, which is a six chamber job… and playing with all those revolvers.

To reiterate the first part of this red pill, being a hetero male who doesn’t eat cunt, ever, or kiss, ever, I am already a 10,000 chamber revolver.

And so we come to the last part of this red pill.

And while the blue pills in all of you can intellectually see all the sense in what I have said up until now, this is the bit of the red pill that is like the grainy sour grit in the bottom of a cup of medicine, the hardest to swallow, but, the bit with all the goodness…  that first bit of the cup was just a prophylactic…lol

And here we go.

As a 50+ year old male (YMMV is you are 40’s, 30’s, 20’s, but not as much as you may think, not so much it puts you on a par with the wimminz) we have to examine what happens when the hammer does not drop on an empty chamber, but a full one.

I personally know some people who are HIV+, one I first met in 1993, she doesn’t know when or where or how she caught it, to look at her today you would never know, she looks and acts fine. I met her via I guy I know and knew, he met her, she disclosed she had HIV, me and everyone else told him to run the fuck away, he didn’t, they are still together 20 years later, for the first few years they were careful, protected sex only, then one night drunk he thought fuck it, then it happened again, then he thought fuck it and stopped bothering, still got tested every six months.

Eventually, after 12 years of fucking her bareback, he caught it, again you wouldn’t fucking know, it basically doesn’t affect his life as much as people I know with diabetes or people I who who are allergic to wasp stings.

Basically, for the man, if you get something that looks or feels nasty and painful, you go to the doctor and you can take some shit and the *symptoms* disappear.

Sure, the infection is still there, but the symptoms aren’t

It is a known fact, due to regular blood screening in hospitals, coupled with bizzarro rules about disclosure and privacy and so on, that a minimum of 250,000 people in England have Hep-C, with a population of 53 million that is one in 200

it is also a known fact that there were only 7,000 *reported* cases last year, the symptoms are indistinguishable from over indulgence in alcohol, which so many do nowadays.

That factual statistic, 250,000 known infections, v 7,000 reported cases last year, is a useful guesstimate for all other STD’s, only 1 in 35 is reported, because only 1 in 35 generated enough symptoms in the patient that they went to a doctor to get whatever it was seen to.

That and the other fact, and it ain’t patriarchy or misandry, just biology, that basically this shit just doesn’t affect men that much, but it really does affect wimminz, and more often that not that effect is manifested in their fertility, or lack of, or their menstrual cycle, and the discomfort of, or in the smell from their cunt, and the embarrassment of…


Now and again I counsel young men, I tell them the following;

  1. Risk is something you take, and you own, if you take a risk and it comes up snake eyes you have to own the consequences.
  2. If you want kids, well, STD’s can affect sperm production and quality, but the real deal is whether the mother has any.
  3. Going to a clinic regularly and using prophylactics does not make you safe, and if it comes up snake eyes, and then you infect someone, you are doing it knowingly, and that is a criminal offence, and being a man, you will get charged.
  4. A condom does not make someone fuckable, the way to reduce risk is to be discerning, wash your cock and balls immediately before and after fucking, and hydrate, so you can piss immediately after fucking and before washing.
  5. Do not eat or lick cunt
  6. Do not suck cock or take it up the ass.
  7. Lots of things and spots and minor damage can naturally occur to your cock, it doesn’t mean you have VD, you can damage it on wimminz cunt stubble for example, but until it heals, stay away from cunt…
  8. EVERYONE fucks bareback, just because they and you do not do it together, does not mean they or you are safe.
  9. If you don’t want kids, or are living alone, and you have no symptoms, it’s not your problem. Obviously it is FAR better to not have any health issues, but the same thing applies to smoking and drinking and eating well,we still do them.
  10. Just because something is communicable does not suddenly make it exclusively your problem, see point #1, you are responsible for YOUR health, own it, and expect everyone else to do the same.
  11. Unless you are a really unlucky sonofabitch, you could be a walking STD petri dish and not even know it, so why is it a problem, just because the infection is SEXUALLY transmitted, as opposed to something you get off a toilet seat or a dirty cup or food or by breathing?
  12. Buy a dictionary and read the definition of the word asymptomatic.

The red pill, STD’s are a wimminz issue, just like cunt cancers and tit cancers and all the rest, not my fucking problem, and won’t be until every hospital has a specialist MEN’S HEALTH department to go along with the fucking specialist wimminz health department.

Prophylactics are just wimminz way of countering the increased risk of the contraceptive pill, which allows all wimminz, not just the village bike and whore, to have a large cock count.

I make a point on swingers sites of saying my policy is bareback or fuck off, I’m just picky about who I fuck, I have to tell you two facts.

  1. I have yet to fuck a wimminz who did not have some variation of “no glove, no love” on their profile/advert.
  2. I have yet to have any of these wimminz even mention condoms when we fuck, bareback. No glove, but my cock went in all three receptacles, because that is another of the points I make on my advert, access all areas or fuck off.

To sum up, all sex involves some risk, my attitude is you use your brain to mitigate that risk, not a condom, which is just a way of deceiving yourself, and if you are a hetero male who doesn’t eat cunt or kiss, and who is hygienic and picky, you’re still at risk, but you are waaaay ahead of the crowd.

If you are a young wimminz, then your risk factors are astronomical, and a lifetime cock count of three is pushing your luck.

In closing, if you are  young wimminz, one of the biggest problems you dramatically raise the risk of with a high cock count is cunt cancer, no fucker but me will tell you this, but give yourself another 40 years and you will see the empirical truths for yourself….  every wimminz I know with cunt cancer or even just a cunt cancer scare that was caught early and had medical intervention, had a cock count in three digits.

I shit you not.

September 12, 2013

It hurts, being a soldier, behind enemy lines.

In the postbag, stuff from guys toughing it out and swallowing red pills like ludes at a dead concert, yeah we know we are doing the right thing for our own survival, but why does it hurt so much?

In brief, it hurts because you are down behind enemy lines, on your own, it sucks, but it is better than being in the trenches outside Damascus.

It hurts, because not only the ones you correctly identified as your enemies are out to get you, but also those you formerly incorrectly identified as allies and colleagues.

It hurts, because it is lonely, you don’t have the faux comradeship and faux companionship you had before.

It hurts, because it is supposed to….

As for Damascus itself….

Well, in my day job, I turn up on site, after a bunch or resellers of resellers of resellers have resold a product, and outsourced parts of that product to four different suppliers at the end of four different reseller chains, of which I am but one.

The customer, the site, it is a major high street brand with over a thousand outlets in mainland England alone, you know the name, hell, you’ve probably spent money there yourself.

Fact is I could pull a couple of other equally large or larger jobs out of last weeks diary, the only reason I don’t is I couldn’t give *any* clues about who they are or what they do, or you would immediately know exactly who they were, but, the story is *exactly* the same.

So 5 site visits in a row to 5 different sites, and in every one, I cannot do the job I was there to do, and the reason I cannot do it is not;

  • that someone else forgot to tell anyone to do x
  • that someone wasn’t told by someone else to do x
  • that x itself wasn’t documented and planned up the wazoo

you get the picture.

No, the problem in every case is that everyone prior to me in the process has played their part, but the process itself is specifically designed so that no one person has any knowledge or interest in what those following on are supposed to do.

So one guy will come alone and install a new cabinet over there next to the spare power sockets, and another guy will come along and install the dsl/pstn lines over there next to the existing phone sockets, and the distance between the two “there’s” exceeds the length of the RJ11 cable supplied to connect the two together.

And nobody has done anything wrong, and everyone, even me, who doesn’t do the job he turned up to do, can get his paperwork signed, and everyone goes home happy, except the customer.

When things *do* work out, it isn’t because everyone is working to IS0/BS/six sigma or any of that crap, or because everyone is a certified nintendo developer, or because the whole project is managed and documented so well.

It is because there are enough people in the system like me, with a spread of knowledge and experience much broader than my job description calls for, who can go the extra mile in some cases, and use their fucking brain in others, so that the next guy in the chain can do his bit and forge another link in the chain.

Not *because* of the system, but *despite* the system.

If you think the fields of politics or economics or war are any different, you’re in for a rude surprise…. especially if you find yourself in a trench outside Damascus.

So, enough time has passed I can tell you a true story.

Anyone who has been in the armed forces knows it moves on bullshit paperwork, just like the jobs I describe above, with the added pleasure of you yourself being a thing with a number, not an intelligent free agent like I am at work.

So, let’s call him Pete.

Pete is an army driver, he is given orders and papers, go to the motor pool, draw a truck and 30,000 litre trailer, go here and fill the truck with diesel, then go here and deliver that 30,000 litres of diesel, then bring the truck and trailer back.

So, all goes well until Pete gets to his destination with 30k litres of diesel, and he is told we got no room, the bunkers are full, go away.

Pete goes back to the fuel depot, told to go way, no paperwork for no 30k litre delivery.

Pete goes back to his base and the motor pool, told to go away, no paperwork for a truck and FULL 30k tanker trailer.

Pete goes to a pub down the road to ponder his dilemma, everyone has been scrupulous in doing their job, nobody has done anything wrong, in fact to fix this problem, someone would have to exceed their authority and do something wrong.

Pete sinks a couple more beers, pondering all this, and a friendly local farmer offer to solve his problem, he will buy the 30k litres of diesel, at a discounted price, of course.

Pete sells the farmer the diesel, returns to base with an empty truck, waved straight through, job done, paperwork filled, away you go brother.

Of course, sooner or later the missing 30k litres was flagged and Pete got dishonourably discharged, which in reality didn’t bother him a bit, saved him 5 more years in the green.

Ok, we all know Pete did the wrong thing, but the situation he found himself in was not one of his own making, and if he hadn’t had that exact same sort of shit every other day of his life, he might have done the right thing that day.


But things become slightly more likely to escalate out of control in totally unplanned directions that have no stop, pause or rewind buttons, when you are playing around in potential war zones.

And if excuse like “but I did everything my job sheet said, and I got it signed off” or “but I was unable through the actions of someone else to complete my job sheet, but it clearly wasn’t my fault, so I got it signed off” become ever so slightly more annoying when we are not talking about a customer whose site is hard down with no net connection, but when we are talking about a village and 5,000 inhabitants turned into grit and brown paint.

So, brothers, it may be unpleasant to find yourself down alone behind enemy lines, but it will get several orders of magnitude more unpleasant if you are dumb enough to stick your head up outta your foxhole and ask where the pussy has gone.


August 29, 2013

Ya got to have fucking intuition mate…

Further to a chat with a mate about a recent skank ho of mine.

So he says to me, you not bonking skanky this weekend, I told him no, that one has run its course.

Damn he says, she showed promise, had a lot going for her, what happened?

Quelle fucking surprise I told him, she fucking lied to me.

Ah he says, I knew you said a couple of weeks ago you suspected it.

Yeah, didn’t have any fucking proof until a couple of days ago, but had that gut feeling summat wasn’t right, and when it comes to wimminz I always trust my gut feelings, no matter how fucking vague.

Of course, being a wimminz, as soon as you call them on their bullshit their fucking attitude instantly shifts forever, but like the lass upstairs who waited all of three days of mourning for her boyfriend who was carted of by po-lice in handcuffs, before literally moving in a new guy, but as she said to him as the po-lice hauled him away, she wasn’t cheating on him, no sir.

As I said to my mate, and to the skank in question, it’s not the fact she fucked someone else that bothers me, she has had so many cocks and cunts another one doesn’t make the slightest difference, her value was already zero.

It’s not even just the fucking lying, although that is a big part of it, no, what really gets me is a/ thinking she could bullshit me, and b/ acting like a spoilt child when she gets caught, and revving up the hamster wheel in order to avoid having to face the reality and consequences of HER choices and HER actions.

How the fuck am I supposed to respect *anything* about a spoiled three year old who has ridden a thousand cocks?

One fucking day, just fucking maybe, I will meet a woman, and by definition this would be a woman and not a wimminz, familiar with the concepts;

  • Ignoring the future consequences of your current actions does not in any way negate those consequences.
  • every single choice you make today has repercussions for your entire future life
  • once you break something, like trust or your word or not having told a lie to an individual, you can’t *ever* go back to the way things were
  • once you change the way things were in one area, you change the way things were in all areas

The last one is the doozy, once you lie, or otherwise change the playing field by your actions, there is no more “mates rates” if I sell you something, there is no more pay me back that 50 as and when you can, no rush, there is no more sure, grab a coffee, pull up a chair and tell me your troubles, I no longer give a fuck.

And you gotta remember, I am the least likely guy to indulge in any of the nicey nicey shit and buy you a drink to chat you up or flowers or crap, sure, if you are here and sucking my cock all night I’m happy to feed you coffee and mebbe some vittlins, if I am eating too, usually zero financial expenditure of any kind on my part (apart from anything else, doing something dumb like buying the bitch some flowers for her birthday = instant loss of respect for ya) and even so, you still gotta trust your fucking intuition when something ain’t right, and that means INSTANTLY start thinking and acting like it is game over, even if you might get another fuck or two out of the skank.

So he says to me, basically you just don’t trust *any* wimminz do ya bro.

I tell him, no I don’t, and so far I have been proven right 100% of the time.

And you know how men fuck up, they apply LOGIC and REASON, two utterly alien concepts to the situation, and thus come to the conclusion that she can’t be doing x, because there is no possible fucking upside for her in doing x, and nothing but a multitude of downsides reverberating down the path of her future.

So he grins at me and says hey, it could be worse, we could be living in Damascus.



August 20, 2013

Conversations with wimminz…

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , — wimminz @ 3:01 pm

AfOR – So what’s the best thing for your kids? For you to have a man in your life, or for you to not have a man in your life?

Wimminz – To have a man in my life.

AfOR – So what’s the best way to make sure you don’t have a man in your life? To put him first, or to put your kids first?

Wimminz – (subdued) to put my kids first.

AfOR –

Wimminz – gobble

And it really is that simple, not to make a wimminz think, that’s a hopeless task, but to determine if this wimminz in question is a completely unredeemable skank ho that you never want to put your cock anywhere near, or a wimminz worth fucking.. AWALT of course.

Anything born with a penis that WON’T present wimminz with stark choices like that ain’t a man, it’s a niggerz.

Niggerz only ever get skank ho’s, still AWALT, but bottom of the barrel AWALT.

Filters, which is what a red pill attitude is, they don’t so much, when it comes to wimminz, filter out type A and let through type B, because our filters are always nested, so what they do do is present to second third and fourth stage filters a *different* selection of wimminz than a blue pill attitude will get you.

There is no quick questionnaire or set of pass / fail tests you can give, you pretty much have to live a righteous lifestyle, and by doing so you attract less of the wrong kind of people and more of the right kind of people.

Live a righteous lifestyle, and you will find that the conversations you do have with wimminz will change, and indeed the type of wimminz you end up having conversations with will change.


Back in the day, there was a biker’s saying, what’s the difference between a Honda CBX and a Honda C90?

The answer was you don’t mind if your friends see you riding a CBX.

If you apply this to wimminz, you are in for a world of fucking hurt.

August 7, 2013

It’s an inconvenience

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , — wimminz @ 1:52 pm

When I was raised as a young boy, the principle of inconvenience applied.

If I inconvenienced my father by using the last of the milk, I was inconvenienced in return, by being made, immediately, no matter what I was doing or wanted to do, to go to the shop and get some more, thus minimising further inconvenience to my father.

The principle was that I could only be taught not to inconvenience others, by being subjected to immediate inconvenience myself, until such time as I rectified that which I had caused the injured party.


  1. My inconvenience was to persist until the inconvenience I had caused another had been remedied.
  2. There was no scalar relationship between how minor the inconvenience I caused the other, and any upper limit on my own inconvenience in rectifying the inconvenience I had caused them.

This was back before the days of VCR/PVR etc, so being sent to the shop could mean missing the one airing of Dr Who for example.

If I had broken something worth 5 bucks that I had to replace, it was of no consequence if the only way that I could immediately raise that 5 bucks was to sell a toy that I had been saving up for for three months and had just paid 50 bucks for to the kid next door, that was *my* problem.

There were times, as a small boy in short trousers, where these lessons were so infuriating that I would lie in my bed and dream of planting brambles and thorns on my parents graves when they eventually dies, and dance around singing Hallelujah… lol…

There were times when I said out loud to my dad that all these rules and discipline and stuff just wasn’t fair, he told me straight, “Nobody is keeping you here boy, I’ll drive you down to the children’s home right now if you don’t want to live here any more.

Needless to say, I decided that life not being fair was better than being an orphan in a kids home…


When I apply this principle to others (and lest you think I am a hypocrite, to this day I still apply it to myself, both in my personal and business dealings) that rather than punishment or abuse or beatings or anything else, just immediate inconvenience in return for any inconvenience to me, until the inconvenience to me is remedied, I am and was of course accused of being abusive and controlling and evil.

Pure coinkydink of course that I am talking about me applying this principle to a wimminz, or via her to her womb turds, and it sudden;y becoming controlling or abusive or evil behaviour on my part.

I’m not quite sure why, but today it struck me that much of what is wrong with the world today is based upon a lack of the simple principle of those who cause inconvenience to others being themselves inconvenienced until they remedy the issue.

It was of course FUNDAMENTAL that simply offering to pay for a litre of milk was a non starter, that does not remedy the inconvenience of opening the fridge to get some milk for my latte and finding none, when I left a litre in the fridge last time I opened it two hours ago.

The remedy to not having milk in the fridge was for the offended to place milk in the fridge, and as soon as humanly fucking possible, because I am still waiting for my fucking latte.


Some years ago in a foreign country I cut across the traffic to a petrol station, long and short of it was I caused an accident in which I hit another car with mine.

The police turned up, took all the details, nobody was injured, just bent metal.

I said to the other guy, how much is your car worth? He told me, I said I’ll draw the cash and hand it to you within 24 hours, that way you can buy another car and not have to wait weeks for the insurance, frankly I was relieved enough nobody, inc his pregnant wife in the passenger seat, was injured.

24 hours later as agreed we all meet in the police station, the police ask the guy if he is happy, he says yes, the guy paid me, just off to look at another car, police ask me if I am happy, well, as happy as can be expected (seeing as I am several hundred thousand pesetas down and had to cancel a holiday, but hey, they didn’t need to hear that) just glad nobody was hurt. So we all go across the road to a bar and have a drink, done and dusted.


I have had the same in business, customer pays me, I build the thing they want and ship it to them, it arrives smashed up by the courier, or missing entirely etc.

Do I tell the customer I will chase it up with the insurance etc?

Do I fuck, I immediately order bits and build a replacement, and leave the customer out of my ongoing battles with the courier and insurers.


It is why I have a good name.

It all goes back to the lesson on inconveniencing others.

It is why wimminz and niggerz have a bad name.

Back in the day, when a woman’s virtue was all she had of value, the cost of raping a woman was the same as the cost of taking one as your wife for life, e.g. fucking huge and lifelong.

Stealing or damaging a mans’ tools meant you had to support him until you replaced his tools, with equivalent ones mind, not cheap knock offs from toolzone

Until such time as you had made reparations in full, you yourself were not entitled to shit, and the only limit on inconveniences to yourself was that they must not further delay your ability to make reparations to the injured party.

Some things, like preventing a child from growing up with a father, you cannot ever make reparations for, and so the minimum tariff should be that you and your entire genetic line, including all your offspring, and all theirs, and so on, are eradicated from the gene pool.

Either that, or when faced with such an injured party where it is physically impossible to make reparations, you should be faced with the injured party deciding what damages should apply.

If you break into my house and steal my late father’s tools and sell them for a baggie of crack so they can never be recovered, then there is no good claiming that it is possible to purchase good quality modern equivalents for 5k.

It’s not just the milk in the fridge thing, where you should be forced yourself to go out and source and deliver to me the complete list of stolen tools, and not simply cut me a cheque for 5k and walk away.

It’s the “my dead dad’s tools” thing, where you can’t buy the individual spanner he bought as an apprentice and used all his life, thus denying me the ability to pick up and use a tool that my dad handled, only ****I**** can decide what that is worth to me.

You don’t get to discuss or dispute or argue that valuation.


Actually it just occurred to me *why* this whole subject popped up in my head, a good mate is getting involved with what may well be a fairly decent wimminz… yup, AWALT and all that, but she has womb turds, and my mate was concerned about discipline.

I told him, you move in with her, her kids are her problem, you only discipline them by proxy through her, never directly, so if her kids drink all the milk in the fridge you make her go out immediately and replace it, at whatever inconvenience to herself.

If she chooses to pass on that inconvenience to her kids or not, that is up to her, not your lookout, but unless she immediately inconveniences her kids by telling them to go NOW to the shop and buy milk and come right back, you may as well split with the bitch now, because it is only a matter of time.

August 3, 2013

There are no beautiful sunsets in hell.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , — wimminz @ 12:47 pm

When things are shit all over and going to hell in a handcart, there are no nice and pleasant interludes or options available.

You don’t get a steady linear relationship between good things and bad environments, and of course it cuts both ways, it isn’t just the case that it is difficult to find good things in a bad environment, it is also the case that if it is difficult to find good things, you’re in a bad environment, no matter what anyone tries to tell you.

For those men out there still looking for the NAWALT wimminz or the decent relationship with their sons, it isn’t just that these things are hard to find in this feminazi environment, it is also that the mere fact that these things are so fucking difficult, I dare to say impossible, to find, that highlights just how bad this feminazi environment is.

All the blogs and other social commentary I read treat these things like we are on the upward slopes of a bell curve, somewhere in the foothills, see my phrase above, “GOING to hell in a handcart” and boy we better be damn careful of things will get a lot worse boys and girls.

I beg to differ, we are at or near the peak of the bell curve, we aren’t *going* anywhere, we already *arrived* in hell, and the handcart is burning to ashes around us.

This complacency about the dire situation we find ourselves in is of course deliberately engineered, if we were not in such dire straits, there would be no need for such endemic social engineering, there are 999 new wimminz on offer, 500 new houses for sale, 750 cars, 200 motorsickles, 50 films and 10 flavours of ice cream, and I don’t want any of them, at least, not at the prices being asked.

I tire of the internet, there is nothing new out there, I tire of the film industry, there is nothing new out there, I tire of the games industry, there is nothing new out there, I tire of the dating and fucking sites, there is nothing new out there.

It is not that I crave only the new, it is that I am tired of the same old used up shit being repackaged in every more glossy bullshit packaging at ever inflated prices.

You can put lipstick on a pig, it is still a pig, no amount of extra make-up and cosmetic surgery and marketing is going to change that fact one iota.

What’s worse, it is also no longer an honest to god pig either.

The hysteria and insanity and rank desperation that pervaded PoF just twelve short months ago has now spread to the fucking/swinging sites, and hysteria like all memes spreads like a contagion.

Skank ho’s are now finding real difficulty finding two men, of any calibre, to MMF them, and they are throwing their toys outta da fuckin’ pram.

But we can forget Fannie Mae and Prism and Snowden and stock market algos, because all the yank embassies are going to close, on worldwide alert for raghead muslim terr’rist atrocities, which will kill less murricans than Chevy brakes, and Kim Kardashian is back after a week away, and Si Cowell has got some gold digging slut pregnant, fuck it all.

Refried 1975 beats it all hands down babe.

July 28, 2013

25 years




Take a look at the two pictures above, and tell me what the connection is.

Sussed it? No?

It’s the same bitch with a bit over 25 years in between, in the latter pic she is 45 years old, in the former around 19 and a Playboy and page 3 model.

Now I can’t claim to have been a male model when I was in my late teens, mostly I looked like shit, long hair, patchwork leathers, 135 film cans stuffed with grass / speed / acid, and some sort of illegal motorsickle to hand, but now in my fifties all the Viagra in a pfizer warehouse couldn’t get me hard enough to fuck the creature she has become.

Not that I have aged badly, but I didn’t suddenly turn into Paul Newman in my mid forties either, I guess I still look like shit, most of the hair is gone and what’s left is #1 cut and highlighted with grey, the motorsickle is now a legal item, and the beat goes on.

But I still wouldn’t fuck this skank.

So she was more fuckable than me, now she is less fuckable than me, ergo her fuckability, has fallen all the faster because she used to be say an 8, than if she used to be a 5 or less, and either way it has fallen faster and further than it has for men on average.

Whatever power you might have when you look like the young Pepper in the first pic, 25 years later when you look like Pepper today, your opening gambit had better be an expression of how much you want to stick your tongue up my ass, and in a beauty contest between my ass and her face, my ass would still win…

I shit you not…

Months now seem to go past as quickly as weeks used to back when I was a boy, this is logical and inevitable, but nevertheless the view looking back is different from anything you can theorise as a young lad.

I knew the flower of youth was brief, but I never knew just how fucking brief and fleeting it was, especially for the wimminz, that and the purity of virginity and a fertile womb, you know what, I’ve plowed that furrow first, and it ain’t all that, but it is all the wimminz had, and they pissed even that pittance away.

Fact is the old dowry system where you basically had to bribe a man to take your daughter off your hands, that was only half the trick jack, the other half was once she took you name her family burned those bridges behind her, it really was for better or for fucking worse, unto death.

Because that was the only way to keep the bitches in line, for their own fucking good, take a look at those pictures again, the hot sex kitten vanished 20 years ago, the last 15 years she better have been storing up credits raising the kids, the last 5 raising the grandkids, cos without that credit you get what you see, all liability, absolutely fuck all to offer, and from here on in it gets worse every day.

Wimminz as chattels, the most evil nadir of the patriarchy, apparently, the view looking back from your fifties is different, it was the greatest kindness we ever did the useless fucks… far better than they deserved, for their own good.

And guess what, it was organised and maintained by the women of the day.

As I sit her and type this, in the last 24 hours I have one 26 year old, one 35 year old, one 38 year old, and one 42 year old wimminz, all of whom want to submit to me, a man in my 50’s, totally, sexually, and a couple of others who want to submit partially, or so they say.

Which one is winning the race? The one with the youngest flesh, the prettiest face, the biggest tits?

No, the one who doesn’t just want to submit sexually, who doesn’t even have to be told to use any spare moments worshipping my cock or with her tongue up my ass in preference to talking, the one who wants me to own her totally, the one who says she has nothing to offer me but herself, little as that is.

The one, in short, with the strongest grip on reality.

Young men, NOTHING that ages as badly and as quickly as wimminz do is worthy of your worship or adoration, nothing that ages this badly and quickly is pure, or healthy, nothing that ages this badly or quickly is capable of anything that lasts longer than the fleeting changes that ravage them.


If the ideal age for a wimminz is half the man’s age plus seven, then that is a moving target, you have to get a new wimminz every two years.

This isn’t a bad thing, if you want a relationshit longer than that, get a fucking dog…

Course, if you started choosing dogs on how hard they made your cock throb, you’d have the same fucking issues, so start choosing wimminz by the same criteria you choose a dog.

By that yardstick the bitch above who has the strongest grip on reality and wants me to own her is the clear winner, and some of the others have better attributes, physically, but it is no coincidence that this one will rather spend three hours using her mouth on my balls / cock / ass than talking, and no, this doesn’t make her NAWALT.

She is AWALT, she is just a bit less addicted to delusions of pedestal pwincess status than her sisters, which is just because she fucked up harder and faster and got to face some of the consequences faster than her sisters.

She is still a liability to any man, but she knows it, and is prepared to earn her daily keep sexually, and by feeding me, keeping the coffee coming, and doing domestic shit.

The value of the dog is he knows his place, once he loses that he loses all value, and this bitch is the same, the only value she has is she knows her place.

I wouldn’t kick her out of bed to fuck the 26 year old with the pretty face and porn slut body, I wouldn’t have to, threesome it is and then kick the 26 year old out of the bed.

25 years pass, if looks are all you have you are fucked, if “a way of life” (to nick the biker ethos, AWOL) is all you have it improves with age and practice, I have this shit down cold and smooooooth, practice makes perfect.

A one time gift of minimal value due to constantly refreshing supply like youth and virginity and fertility and beauty, that’s a one shot game with a fucking short half life.

Fuck being a wimminz.

July 26, 2013

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