Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

December 11, 2013

I could just be unlucky

or maybe I have some sort of genetic deformity that emits a secret pheromone, or maybe god just hates me.

I mean, otherwise, what are the chances, you know what I mean…

It is statistically improbable beyond the point of credibility or belief that mere bad luck on my part can account for me to spend fucking decades drifting through life, imagine a being walking amongst the teeming masses, and yet I have managed, so far, to completely and utterly fail to meet even one single wimminz who didn’t lie through her fucking teeth for a pass-time, and who said one thing yesterday and did something completely opposite today.761Bv

I mean, can you imagine something where you have a guy, and every single dog they have ever met bit them…. you’d start to get suspicious… maybe the guy is giving off “bite me” smells to the dogs…

And then you dig deeper, and find that guy has never met another guy who has had a different experience, sure, he has met a few who claimed different, and when you point out the puncture marks and scabs they claim Fido was just being playful and didn’t mean anything by it.

At what point are you going to stop and say, you know, maybe this guy isn’t the salient factor here, maybe we should be looking at these dogs.


I chose dogs for a reason, the reason is that you can argue both sides of the coin, back in pre-history did early humans adopt early dogs and tame them, or did early dogs adopt early humans and tame them…. it’s a bit of a quandary, but either way we are now in a place where dogs are a man’s best friend overall, and vice versa.

Now, if human beings are just DNA‘s way of making more DNA, you can start to get into some interesting thought experiments.

Here are some;

1/ It is not necessary for DNA (or indeed RNA) that males and females get along all cosy like and everybody wins, in fact you can look at things like the life cycle of the Malaria disease, provided nobody loses so badly it affects the propogation of the Malaria, Malaria doesn’t give a fuck.

2/ Nor is it necessary in sexual reproduction for the two sexes to get along all cosy like as equals, in fact, I will challenge you to name a SINGLE species anywhere on the planet where this is true…. as long as reproduction takes place at a rate sufficient to sustain both evolution and population, all is good.

3/ Alpha males / pack leader was one way for a male to ensure continuation of his DNA, and the competition served evolution too, and then came speech, so it stands to reason that if speech were all Star Trek Vulcan and always 100% truthful / logical / accurate, at least when it came to matters of sexual reproduction, it wouldn’t work, the liar will win every time. Yes, this is your child.

4/ Genetically speaking, the evolution takes place in the male, XY and all that, and genetically speaking, a foetus is somewhere between a symbiote and a parasite on the host organism, so in evolutionary terms, the female needs something extra to make up for this, and that extra was to become a parasite to the male, and live off their effort…. Suddenly communication came in to play… Yes, this is your child.

5/ Genetically speaking, it is only in the last 150 years that the female stood *any* chance of being caught out in such a lie, humanity lived in small isolated groups that didn’t mix much, everyone in the community *was* a relative. It took the advent of the railway to provide enough mobility that a female could produce a child that clearly was *not* related to anyone in the village… Yes this is your child does not work when the child suddenly has brown eyes, or red hair, or dark skin.


I touched on this yesterday, with the what will the wimminz really do thing.. but the point here is this.

Genetically and evolutionary wise, the last 150 years of technology and the ability to breed outside the local gene puddle is such a short time it isn’t even the blink of an eye.

Hell, it was only the invention of the chimney in the 1500’s which changed the way houses were built that permitted people to fuck in privacy, before that it was one big room…

Up until this time…

Far from the patriarchy being a privilege, it was the only possible way that you could sell a guy on the idea that he had to sit still and be a host to a parasite that lived off the fruit of his labours… and such labours were such a significant part of each man’s total output that the mere idea of any of them being stolen by a cuckold was serious, serious, shit.

As the Stones sang, the so called privileged patriarchy alpha male was in effect, from many many many viewpoints, no more than a beast of burden, and any so called male privilege that he got was in fact no more than the minimum you could possibly do to convince any beast of burden to stay harnessed to the yoke… no point being a plough horse if the wild ponies eat better, I want my fucking fresh yummy oats.

I see a wimminz lie to me, one week promising me the earth, next week I do not exist, bitch is doing me a fucking favour, she is showing me her inability to fulfil her end of the bargain and provide me with my fresh yummy oats every day, so I refuse to put on the harness and yoke and be the beast of burden.

Again, as I alluded to in the last piece, from the DNA perspective this sounds like an instant lose / lose proposition, but no, because now the wimminz are parasites on the state, and the state is putting men to the draft as beasts of burden.


You know, I got a *lot* of shit for fucking a wimminz and her daughter, but honestly, get fucking real, you turn up in my presence with another adult female that is younger and more fertile than you, WTF do you think I am going to think? One thing I *do* know for sure is it ain’t *my* fucking daughter, so why should I not want to fuck it?

Seriously, where is the payoff for me for *not* fucking you both?


Sure bitch, *you* don’t like it, but to prevent it all *you* had to do was stay with the father, assuming you even knew who that was…. if you dump him you can’t complain if 20 years later some other random guy is as willing to fuck her as he is you.

But, to get back to the plot.

Instead of being parasites on individual men, or on small groups of related men, now wimminz be parasites on the State, and I fucking DEFY any of you to come up with a better definition for a creature that takes their entire life and gives nothing back but more of their own DNA other than a fucking parasite.

Men went from having a parasite that was at best carrying his own child, and at worst carrying his brothers or cousins child, either way there is a LOT of his DNA there, and he gets to see and influence that child throughout their growing years…. to the situation we now have, where the one person LEAST likely to be anywhere near their own DNA is the father, but, via the State, you still get to pay… and not just for your own personal parasite, in exchange for regular fresh oats, but as a social bill, and no oats in return.

For the parasite, the wimminz, there is no downside to all this, in fact it is win/win, now they can not merely have 5 kids by 5 fathers and maximise the DNA mixing, which is their role as host to the foetus, which, if male, will be the actual engine of evolution, but they can pull a train of 5 guys for each pregnancy, and let the most fertile sperm win.

The only downside to all this is the beast of burden, who is supposed to just carry on pulling that plough, not getting any fresh oats, and shut the fuck up, while also accepting that his *individual* role in that evolutionary DNA mixing lotto machine is minimised to the maximum extent possible.


So the world as a whole is looking at the engine of everything, the ultimate host for all subsequent tiers of parasites, the working man, as a boiler, and they are pouring more and more coal under it and demanding ever greater volumes of steam and ever greater levels of superheat, because, you know, that is all parasites can do (Scorpion and Frog bro) and when rivets start creaking and seams start rumbling what do they do?

They pick up a hammer and start beating on the individual rivets and seams, and, to an extent, yeah, this can actually work, if you are a fucking lunatic with a death wish who is feeling very very fucking lucky.

Back in the day, in the old Board of Trade days when you were sitting your Chief Engineer exams, they used to throw in the odd not so trick question, to see if you were awake and thinking…. one of these questions was, “What steps to you take when the main steam line fractures?

The answer was of course “The engine room steps… and fucking quickly.” Because 60 to 90 seconds later everything in the engine room is bathed in superheated steam, it’s not just dead, it is cooked and tender enough to fall off the bone.

If you suspected a boiler was getting near failure, you opened all the valves, dumped the hearth and aimed hoses at it to cool it down, ideally you did all that in a few seconds, and then took the fucking engine room steps or equivalent, and retired to a safe distance, and you did not return until the temperature inside the boiler was below boiling and the pressure was open to atmospheric.

You didn’t run up with a hammer and start trying to beat on the rivets and seams in question.


Well, let’s look at that, we have a population of parasites, wimminz, and their parasites, kids, that have already vastly exceeded whatever resource consumption they could get directly from males as individuals.

So the situation evolved to the one we have today, where the required resources for the parasites are taken from the males en masse, socially, via the State.

And you think a big war, which of course means MALES going off and getting killed, which even further unbalances the situation, is going to solve anything???

The facts are that there is a direct correlation between the number of years a parasite, wimminz, stays in a monogamous relationshit with a single host, man, and the maximum number of womb turds she can produce, when you look at society as a whole.

Statistically speaking the catholics/jews/muslims/you name it in 40 year monogamous situations out-breed everyone else.

Simply because the individual males, hosts, responsible for that level of parasitic activity stand for it, they get fresh oats daily.

Sans the State, wimminz can *maybe* support 1 or possibly 2 kids, but it is a life of grinding hardship, and nothing is off limits, 2 dollar whoring is good… and this is a big maybe, most will abandon the kid or kill it, as they will already not have enough resources for themselves.

Expect lots of die offs, kids first…. if TSHTF

Nothing that involves silencing those creaking rivets and seams is a solution, it is a part of the fucking problem, at this point the solutions are not going to be pretty.

An engineer is someone who can look at doing nothing until the boiler blows and everyone is fucked, some time in the future, who knows when, keep kicking the can, or turning the spigot back from 110% to 40% for the foreseeable while repairs are made, and people start dying NOW in large numbers, and not see any real choice or difficulty.

September 8, 2013


It really does bother me how widespread ignorance has become, it bothers me more how profound those levels of ignorance are.  I don’t have to give examples here, you can all think of them, from lack of basic education in maths / science / history to genuine dumbass stuff.


It is a mistake to equate lack of intellect and education with lack of cunning, and it is a truism that those with some intellect and education vastly under-estimate the efficacy of raw cunning, usually by claiming it is not applicable here.

I spent much of this weekend talking to, and listening to, some of the gutter yoof of today, mid to late teens stuff, and of course I was their age once, and I have a functioning memory, so I can see where a lot of their shit is coming from, but I can also see some remarkable shifts in degree, in many areas.

I spark up a cigarette, I know smokes aren’t a health food, but cancer is a possibility / probability some time down the line, it is not an immediate concern, immediate concerns are I want a smoke, a coffee and a blowjob…. these are things I want today, I’m not going to forgo those pleasures today, because there is no guarantee I get anything tomorrow, so I grab it when I can.

Discussions about Syria or the petrodollar or fiat currencies are discussions you can’t have, they don’t know and they don’t care, they care about what is in reach, right here, right now.

Discussions and plans for tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, those are for rich cunts, even paying the landlord at the end of the month, that’s a long way away, here and now ain’t.

Making a series of instant gratification choices as they are presented by opportunity doesn’t require any intellect, nor does knowing any of 200 or so “trigger phrases” that can be spurted out on demand to produce a pavlovian response in whoever they are said to, for immediate advantage to the sayer, whether it is how to get a “loan” out of the social security to how to bullshit the po-lice or the magistrate.

I haven’t done drugs for years, many years, but when I was young I did, and me being me, if it was worth doing, it was worth doing to excess.

To put it bluntly, I spent months at a time, with the odd very rough day interspersed when I was straight, and I was hanging out with, according to common knowledge, the most dangerous and despicable elements of society, and I am not stupid enough, even under a blogging pen name decades later, to put any of it down in writing in any detail, but I laughed real hard when I first read some of Hunter Thompson‘s stuff, hey bro.

During this period I was particularly fond of acid, and so I spent a lot of time totally whacked on the stuff, and came to understand dogs extremely well indeed, and by extension, people.

If you ever really wanted to know what it would be like to be a creature with a smaller brain, but still an intelligent creature, such as a dog, just do loads of acid and spend time with your dog, preferably out in the woods.

Life gets sliced up into lots of small things, and those things absorb your entire attention, until the next thing intrudes and pushes that moment away to make way for the next.

If I say “vinegar” you can taste and smell it, and if I think of one of those times out in the woods with the dog, I can smell not just that dog, but that breed of dog, and to this day I can recognise that breed of dog by how they smell, it’s a good smell, I had good times with my dog.

If you had been around in that area at that time (late seventies) you might on one occasion have seen a guy in leathers sat on a proper outlaw hardtail chop, one built to run and run fast and corner well, in a car park of one of the new supermarkets, high on acid and toking on a spliff with a sawed off shotgun casually leant against the sissy bar, while my bro was off in the supermarket in question, it was his gun, he left it with me to go in and take a bottle of scotch, I can’t remember your faces, or the exact town or supermarket, or the exact month or year, or what specific reason the guy was carrying for that day, I remember there was one, but can’t remember what it was, I can’t remember much about worrying about the po-lice, or anything else.

I can remember in very great detail the sunlight showing off the engraving on the stock, and noticing and marvelling at the similarities to the engraving on the sissy bar, and realising (duh) with a whoosh that REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED who did the engraving on the sissy bar for me was a gun smith too, and next thing I know my bro is back with the bottle of whiskey, “time to boogey” he says, and off we go.

I can remember later than day a veritable convoy of po-lice vehicles surrounding us, they were looking for a couple of bikers with guns, we didn’t have any, my bro had gone off and done whatever it was and returned, apparently without the gun, I didn’t know and never thought to ask until after the po-lice left us, we weren’t the ones they were looking for, we had no weapons, and all bad-ass bikers look alike to the straights, and it was all no big deal, over as soon as it was over.

Just one of many many many moments in a life lived moment to moment, thanks to the intervention of drugs in my case rather than any innate don’t give a fuck attitude, and yet I slid through it all relatively unharmed and unscathed, simple animal cunning was what did it.

I really do have to stress that point, whatever intellect and “what about tomorrow, and next week, and next month” smarts I had were suppressed, chemically in my case, but the method doesn’t matter, the results do.

Even functioning only on animal instinct, it is extraordinarily hard to truly fuck up, because said animal instinct is a *lot* smarter than we want to accept, intellectually, and yet, it is only there as a by product of millions of years of evolution, it SHOULD be good at this shit.

I had occasion to go back to that area some time ago, and bumped into some people who knew me, or knew of me, back then.

Much to my surprise, and disquiet, I apparently had an awesome reputation as a very mean, very dangerous, very badass individual.

How the fuck can you possibly say that, I never hurt anyone or did anything to anyone!” was my reply.

No,” the guy says, “you were way too cold and smart for that.

What the fuck are you on about?” I ask him, while noting that he is growing uncomfortable, he is thinking I am angry with him, thinking about my past, that he thinks he knows about.

He tells me, “I was sat right here, and you were sat right over there, and REDACTED who wasn’t exactly a big softie say something about ya missed me cos of beer coming out of a bottle, and you just jerked the bottle and it spurted out and hit him in the face and said no I didn’t

Now that he mentioned it, I did sort of recall the incident in question, he continues..

so REDACTED grabs the bottle from your hand, smashes it against the table and raises it to shove it in your face, and he freezes, and the whole fucking pub goes quiet watching, and there you are, as usual, no expression on your face, looking at him right in they eye, with that small smile of yours.. no reaction, no flinching, nothing, stone cold bastard, waiting to see what he would do, and after a few second he puts the bottle down and walks away

I tell him, “dude, I was on acid 24/7, you don’t think, you don’t plan, you don’t analyse, you feel, you react, you experience.

I could tell, he wasn’t buying it, and trotted out a couple more stories, to which I gave him the exact same answer, he still wasn’t buying it, but then, he had never done acid.

My dog was smarter than him, my dog would not have needed the explanation, yowf…

Heinlein kinda said it in his 1941 short story Logic of Empire

But it is intellectual mind defending itself by ascribing intellect and intent to actions by others that outwit it, because to accept otherwise is to accept that intellect does not trump everything else.

You got outwitted by a dumbass, dumbass.


Any “education” that does not, as a priority, teach the student about the inherent dangers and weaknesses of that education, is itself suspect.

Back when I was being taught engineering, much of what I was taught was what engineering could not do, and the myriad ways in which things could go wrong, and leave you worse off than when you started.

A simple example is using plastic metal to “fix” a leaking compression fitting, the correct fix is strip the union, clean it up, new olives and maybe some PTFE tape, once you use plastic metal you have to cut the offending section of pipe out and make a new one.

Engineering is no longer taught this way.

Nor, it seems, is anything else, from economics through politics to sociology.

And it is these “last week I couldn’t even spell engineer, now I are one” types that rule the roost, they have an education, they know this because they have been told it is so, not by any empirical analysis.

And while I would not wish to praise the total lack of education of the yoof of today, and to a slightly lesser extent those in their twenties, and a slightly lesser extent those in their thirties, the less edumakayshum you are burdened with, the more chance there is for base animal cunning to come to the fore, hopelessly short sighted and amoral as it is.

They are not necessarly burdened by this lack of an edumakayshum, whereas they would all benefit from an education, but that has been systematically destroyed alongside the rise in feminazism and the rise of the state.

January 14, 2013

It’s a wild world

I make lots of small bets with myself, like “that’s it, that bitch ain’t gonna ask me for another fuck” and so on, and often times I find myself wishing I was a much bigger cunt than I am, so that I could name names, post SMS history, use actual images.

It would be a lot easier to explain what I am trying to say that way.

For want of a better moniker, jane49 falls into this category, we met, we fucked like bunnies for a month or two, she pulled some typical wimminz dissembling bullshit on me, I called her on it, she went away with her feelings hurt, we still talk now and again, but she ain’t gonna ask me for another fuck, that’s my bet.

I’d quite like to fuck her again, massive tits, smells nice, good company, but that is just one aspect of her personality, the other aspect is the career girl…

Just this morning I was talking to another chick, this chick has been diagnosed as schizophrenic, but the ironic thing is, unlike jane49, this chick knows she has separate and conflicting personalities and desires, jane49 doesn’t, so as soon as her sexual life with me started to creep out of the petri dish that her career girl life imposed, everything got closed down.

It’s a fucked up world when those with severe mental issues are more honest with themselves and you than an apparently got it together independent career girl.

But it all serves to remind me of a simple fact of (my) male psychology, and that simple fact is that if a wimminz does not fuck me for two weeks, she is fading fast from my radar, and as soon as you start fading from my radar it is the good things that fade first, sure, I remember the GG cup tits, but with fondness not lust, meanwhile the negatives occupy more of the remaining radar plot, the skin that really should have been better on a 30 year old, the weight that really should have been 40lbs less, the way my bathroom stank of hairspray when you did stay over and got ready in the morning…

And then these fade too…

And then some months later I hook up with a chick who wants me to come over and use and abuse her, so the bitch gives me her address and zip for the GPS, and I think, “Hey, jane33 lived in that village, wonder what she is up to now” because the fact is jane33 fell off the radar, the same way jane49 is now, and so the road to oblivion and old age smelling of cats and piss is paved for all these wimminz.

There are a lot of janes’ out there that I simply pass on, unfuckable and nothing about them would induce me to waste an hour of my life in their company, and without exception if you could wind the clock back ten or twenty years, or cocks, or whatever, go back in time, they would have been different, they would have been a jane33 or a jane49.

I don’t even feel sorry for these janes’ any more, I don’t even sigh at the wasted potential… my life is too short to expend even that much time on their plight, because it is totally self inflicted.

But I am aware that there is a general social cost, a debt stored away for future redemption.

I am also acutely aware that I am living a lifestyle that is tailored to minimise my exposure, while living off the fat while I can, my current lifestyle is no more moral or high born than a crow, hopping across a battlefield and eating the eyes of the dead.

Fuck it, rather pull up some old David Allan Coe and chill.

But, I have to be honest, there is a nasty part of me that hopes he is still in contact with jane49 when the wheels fall off her wagon, ayup, “How’d that work out for ya?” and “Told ya so!” spring to mind.

See, let’s take jane49 as an example, the story and details will change with the jane, but the basic backstory and principle is all the same.

Jane49 has a house on a mortgage, but it is a modern mortgage, (back when I was a lad doing accountancy a mortgage = a debt = a liability, nowadays people call it a fucking asset… go figure) negative equity special before we even get a property crash, but thankfully for her she has some tenants in that are paying enough rent to cover the mortgage payments, so she just isn’t looking at what could go wrong here, or how wrong it could go, so her eye is firmly on the fact she just rolled a bunch of sixes in a row, and the only permit-able reality is she is going to be able to continue to roll sixes… you can try to talk to her about it, and she will accept that other outcomes are possible, dislike where that train of thought is going, and dismiss the whole issue, after all, she is rolling sixes.

She has a job here, some distance from her house, so she has a flat on a lease / rent, and her job is basically sales, and it is a foreign owned company, and 99% of what they sell is basically cheap imported crap from china.

Between this that and the other, despite the company car, she doesn’t save any money, all those salon treatments, nights out and so on.

So of course all it takes is a blip in the UK economy, which is tanking, or a blip in the chinese economy, or a simple thing like a blip in the exchange rate or shipping costs, and the whole business model of the foreign company she works for crumbles.

She isn’t going to get ANOTHER job elsewhere in sales, because the sorts of things discussed above hit the whole economy, it’s not like the kenyan coffee company goes tits up because of a civil war in kenya, so you can go work for the colombian coffee company instead.

The first thing the foreign company will do is drop the 9,500 chinese made things from the product line, and go back to the 500 EU made things, that’s called restructuring, and that means job losses across the board.

A “career” in sales isn’t a great thing when the economy tanks, and you have no savings, no transport when the company car is taken, no home because yours is rented out, and oh yeah, house prices just dropped 30% so you can’t sell as you owe £130k on a place that might sell at £100k, if you are lucky.

You’re now mid thirties, so your best reproductive years are behind you, and all you can do is wail that “Nobody could have predicted this!!!

Me coughs politely… “‘scuse me bitch, I did predict this, exactly… so remind me, bitch, this career of yours that was more important than a relationshit with me, how did that work out for ya?

And then we get to the nitty gritty… even if she threw herself at me, what’s in it for me?

It was all fine and dandy when the bitch had a disposable income and could feed and clothe herself and turn up at mine with a bottle and some eats, or I’d go to hers because she had a nice place and the heating was on and there was coffee in….

But NOW? Now you don’t have shit?

The really interesting thing, for the boy that used to do accountancy within me, is if you do a balance sheet for her life NOW, when everything is find and dandy and her career comes first, she is left with net liabilities, and if you do another one where she has lost her job / career, and her house is in 30% negative equity, she is still left with net liabilities, and to be honest, they aren’t THAT much greater than now.

The difference will be in the cash flow, income and expenditure department, she won’t be able to service those liabilities, or me…

And that little detail is what is going to screw up so many people that you won’t believe….

That little detail is why I can walk through the city centre, and see few people, and see almost nobody with bags of shopping, and all the shops are empty…. it’s not just a question of assets and liabilities, it’s a question of cash flow.

The greater your liabilities, the greater your minimum cash flow needs to be to keep you above economic stall speed, but the effects are the same when you hit it, game over and you fall out of the sky as an independent economic entity.

There is an old saying about being nice to the people you meet on the way up, because you will probably meet most of them again on the way down.

A lesson the janes of this world will learn the hard way.

January 4, 2013

It’s a jungle out there

There is a lot of talk about the pinnacle of feminazism… articles like this (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2256850/How-feminism-blame-breakdown-family-Left-winger-Diane-Abbott.html), and suchlike, but I have long said that you have to go where excesses are not merely permitted, but celebrated, to find the pinnacle.

The pinnacle of AWALT can arguably be found in the swinger community, and within that community with that subsection that consists of cohabiting or married male / female couples that regularly invite extra males to fuck the wife in question.

At this point I really do wish I could post some pictures, but that would be wrong and inviting trouble.

So I am going to start by asking you to imagine a hamster wheel running at top RPM, but with the bearings and everything else shot, a huge final death wobble on, but still actually rotating at this point.

What you have in the swinger sense is the female of said couple above, but this is a female well past her sexy prime, overweight or fucking obese, time doing a hatchet job on her, has to book 5 guys to “come around tonight and fill me with cum, any holes u like” in the hope that one or two will actually turn up, and none do, and she does the same thing next night, going dogging up secluded hill, with the same results, then posts an appeal at midnight, anyone wanna come and fuck me, with no results.

Where the choices are book ten guys that you select from profile and pics and maybe 2 or 3 will actually turn up and fuck you, and none of them are after anything more than a pump and dump, or go to a club scene where you can get ten guys to pull a train on you, but you don’t get to choose who.

The days of buy me drinks all night and maybe I will let you suck my tits are back there somewhere with the dinosaurs.

Yes folks, the swinging world is the last secret refuge of the entitlement princesses, Conan Doyle style, and somewhere under the island / hidden valley there lies a volcano about to blow its top.

The 35 year old obese cum dumpster loses out every time to the 32 year old in reasonable physical shape who hasn’t yet slid that far down the slope, and that is the real volcano rumbling away under the island.

The entitlement pwincesses seeking validation are already sliding into the magma chamber, on the slippery slope of ever decreasing SMV / sexual market value, and by the time they get to the point where they drop the “I’m being picky because I can” bullshit and sycophantic verifications from the three sad dweebs they did fuck last year to the reality of having to go dogging to get some cock and taking anything that turns up to dump a load, it’s no longer a slide, it is free fall city.

Jane49 is on the back burner, as / when / if she wants my cock again she will call, nothing I can do to influence that, so nothing is exactly what every sane man should do, nothing about jane49 that is…. never ever ever ask her when you are going to meet or fuck again….

Pulling the bits you like out of Jane49 like GG tits and a juicy cunt and ignoring all the defects is like taking a dump and a piss in a pot of stew and expecting people to compliment the dumplings…  you either take a bowl or pass…

Jane50/51/52 etc serve no purpose except to substitute for jane49 while jane49 is doing whatever passes for thinking about as / when / if she wants your cock again.

In fact calling it Jane49/50 etc is misleading, better to use mathematical notation  such as N and N+1, so JaneN and JaneN+1 etc… remember it is a fucking jungle out there, and survival of the fittest means the fittest to survive, not those who can do the most reps with 25kilo barbells.

Meanwhile back on the island of the damned once you get your survival shit down pat you get time to kick back and observe, and what you will observe is that it is a jungle out there, JaneN and JaneN+1 are in competition just as red in tooth and claw as anything they were prepared as a species to hand out to you, ape man…

And you can always spot the other ape men, those who have not learned the lessons, on the island of the damned pwincesses, they are the ones cracking jokes like “She asked me to give her nine inches hard and make her bleed, so I fucked her three times and punched her in the nose” and the ones making observations like “so the profile text is full of shit about safe sex and no condoms = no play, and the profile pictures show her being sandwiched by two bareback cocks..” all of which goes down like a lead balloon and cues a storm of wimminz and their pet niggerz dissing him for oppressing other people’s freedom or some such shit, or having an attitude problem.

JaneN and JaneN+1 face a problem a lot like western economists with QE, or outsourcing, or offshoring, or any of the other shit they pull.

It is always a race to the bottom, and it is always a tiger that once you climb on its back you WILL stay there, because you don’t know how to get off and are too scared of the consequences to try.

Just yesterday alone while using the browse function, I came across two profiles that stated “no I will not fuck your dog and then you” or variations upon the theme of bestiality, which is a classic proof of the race to the bottom, obviously enough requests for this are floating around for these two wimminz to feel the need to put that in their profile, and those requests can only come about because there are wimminz with lower SMV who have already offered this to these guys… N & N+1 can only go in one direction.

And let us not forget, what we see here is NOT the depths of depravity, this is arguably the PINNACLE of feminazism, in the swinging scene where the excesses of the pwincesses are not merely tolerated, but celebrated….

……. the magma chamber below the island of depravity hasn’t done much more than pass some gas yet, we are still in reel two of the show, many years ago I told a young woman that the day would come when she would beg for the opportunity to suck some cock in exchange for a dollar burger….

I said it because I remembered some mestizo puta blowing a donkey while some truck drivers stood around drinking beer and laughing, the better the job she did the more coins they threw at her feet, and it was fucking COINS, not notes.

those days are not here, not yet, we haven’t started the third reel, not yet….

…. but… anyone with eyes and a brain only has to look around and see UNSUSTAINABLE write large everywhere, in my city the January sales have materialised, but the shoppers have not, not only are there empty units in prime locations all over the industrial estate, but in the lawyers and solicitors quarter of town there are now empty buildings and offices in the street.

The empty lawyers offices and empty shops in the city centre are more significant than the empty industrial units in the industrial estate in so far as they show how far the rot is progressing.

December 14, 2012

I have been challenged…

… by a friend, to explain exactly what is going on with a current FWB

(I should explain, in the spirit of full disclosure, there is a reason for his question, this FWB has come a lot closer to my affections than the usual pump and dump material, for the purpose of this post we will call her “Julie”)

uuuh, it’s a wimminz, innit…” was my reply.

He laughed and said you don’t get off that easy, I want you to be charitable and play devils advocate and argue in her favour.

You mean blue pill?” I say

Nope, I mean red pill, but on an individual level, like you’re a cunt because the wimminz have taught you that is what they want and how to survive them, so do the same for her, on an individual level, who taught her to be what she is?” he says

As always happens, we soon drifted off topic, but I woke up this morning and found myself still thinking about it.

The fact is, it was a good question, and it is a good question because it is a hard question, and it is a hard question because to answer it honestly, I will be forced to examine some of my own armour and learned reactions to the wimminz….

Imagine if you will a man living alone out in he wilderness, and imagine a wild dog floating around the man’s camp, sniffing for scraps, there are a few possible scanarios;

Group 1

  1. Man shoots dog
  2. Man chases dog away
  3. Man stays in camp, dog stays outside camp 100 yards away
  4. Man entices dog into camp.
  5. Dog decides to walk into camp.
  6. Dog decides to attack man

From options 4 and 5 above some further options pop up;

Group 2

  1. Man attempts to domesticate dog and succeeds
  2. Man attempts to domesticate dog and fails
  3. Dog attempts to attach to man and succeeds
  4. Dog attempts to attach to man and fails

Group 1 option 1 is Jonathan Vass, as discussed yesterday, Group 1 option 6 is of course the FRA

Group 1 options 2 & 3 is the MGTOW theme…. I’m sure you can work out the rest.

Group 1 options 4 & 5 are the interesting ones though, because they involve contact between man and dog, and either option 4 or 5 can lead to any of the options in Group 2, and I’m sure you don’t need me to point out which is an analogy to what when it comes to men and wimminz…

But, if I am going to be truly honest with myself, which is where my friends question comes in, Group 2 option 3 is what we all seek, the dog bonding to us, always assuming it is a dog we like the look of in the first place… the love of a dog for his master.

The unquestioning love of a dog for his master.

To be fair, this is the kind of love men want to give wimminz, until they get the shit kicked out of them for their troubles, so we end up either cowed and tails between our legs niggerz or fuck it growl at everything and bite first chew later post wimminz men….

Which is my friends question, but it was sneaky, because it did not allow me to generalise all wimminz, but asked me instead to look closely at one individual dog, and judge that dog on its individual merits.

It’s doubly sneaky because it invokes the nostalgia and yearning for Group 2, Option 3, that thing we all seek, the companionship and love of a good dog.

It’s trebly sneaky because it makes me choose between actually coming up with a considered answer to his question, or simply chucking out a stock answer, AWALT, end of discussion.

It’s quadruply sneaky because it is not a challenge to AWALT, this individual wimminz is still AWALT, the question is, how did she come to be that way, and is it by choice, or was she as much a made thing as I am?

It makes me examine my own thought processes.

  • Notably, it is a man, and not a wimminz or a niggerz that poses such a question.
  • I realise that much of my though processes with wimminz involves a negative check-list or weighted score, quantity and quality of tramp stamp skank ho tats, check, she’s a skank ho.
  • I realise that much of the “slack” I give the more favoured long term FWB is simply no more than the absence of certain of these check-list items, wow, this bitch only has 84 of the 100 possible flaws, and only 6 of the 10 most serious red flags…
  • I realise that somewhere in my sub-concious, with this particular FWB, as well as a reasonably low score on the negative check-list, there are actually some things about her that I like and approve of…

So group 1 option 3 dog attempts to domesticate man, man looks at dog and grins, it’s a mangy cur of a mongrel bitch with plenty of bad habits and fleas, but… it makes the man grin.

The man’s friend sees this, and asks the man, why does this individual dog make you grin, it shares more in common with the other curs roaming around your camp than it has to set it apart from them… and what caused this individual dog to be the way it is.

It is a bloody good question.

It is a bloody good question because I cannot answer it without also answering the same question about myself, and not in a superficial way that I have, because I got accused of wanting to fuck my own kids up the ass by my psycho skank ho ex who also made an FRA against me for good measure… but in detail, what sort of man ignored the red flags with the psycho skank ho ex, and why, and how was HE made, and so on back in time….

All the way back to the pre-pubescent me who just knew various things, the sun rises in the east, water is wet, and one day you will grow up and fall in love and get married and have a family of your own and boys who will call you daddy.

I have been making a serious, possibly fatal in the longer term, mistake.

Take a 5 gallon pail of water and tip it out at the top of a slope, watch how it runs downhill, how obstacles and other things change the flow, you can never get the same effect twice, if you think so you ain’t looking close enough, that flow is life, my psycho skank ho ex is a large rock downhill of where I was tipped out into this world, and my serious and possibly fatal flaw was looking at where I am now, the pattern I have made so far, and assuming that that is pretty much it, this form has basically been determined.

I am the pinnacle of my evolution.

The flaw is that change only stops with death, so I must continue to flow downhill into the future and find new patterns and channels and obstacles, or I can die.

I did not HAVE to allow my psycho skank ho ex to do what she did, at the first touch of that obstacle in my life I could have rebounded and found another path, one that cut around her instead of one that washed over her.

I face the same choices in the future.

“Julie” the mongrel cur faces these same choices in the future, and the future starts now.

The man in the camp grins at “Julie” the mongrel cur, because she chose to do what 99% of the other mongrel curs who walked into camp did, but with variations.

The man’s friend asked the question, and the man is forced to conclude that some of those minor variations are that in this mongrel’s history are that it chose to rebound and find another path when it met certain obstacles…. unlike the man, who just assumed he was smart enough and tough enough to overcome… the cur yelped and ran away… who was smarter?


In 1988 I knew an alcoholic, nobody had any time for him, but he had respect for my father so I would talk to him and buy him the occasional beer.

He was an alky because he fucked up, married into a banking family, and blew it by drinking too much and becoming an asshole.

He said one thing to me that I have never forgotten, and the older I get, the smarter it seems.

When I was 20, I knew everything and my dad knew fuck all,
when I was 30, I knew a fair bit, and my dad wasn’t as stupid as I thought,
when I was 40, my dad knew a damn sight more than I thought he did.


“Julie” the mongrel who has wandered into my camp?

Well, I’m sitting here laughing to myself, remembering my dad pissing himself at a scene in a Pink Panther film.

Sellers / Clouseau is harassing an organ grinder outside a bank, of course he completely missed the fact that the bank is being robbed, as he fixates on the organ grinder, does he have a permit etc…

Sellers “Do you have a li-cence for ze minky (monkey)?

Organ grinder “Listen mate, I don’t take his money, and he doesn’t tell me what to play.

That’s kind of the deal with the man in his camp and the mongrel.

October 9, 2012

There was a kid’s toy….

…that had a rider / driver wearing a crash helmet, you pressed the helmet and the head inside span around to show a different face / expression.

Expand this slightly from the toys limited by 50 cent mechanics choices of two “heads” to anywhere from 6 to 20, and you have not just all wimminz, but all people.

These aren’t all different personalities, but different facets of the same personality, and you only get to see the one that is ascendant at that moment in time.

Nothing at all says that different faces that pop into the helmet cannot have opposing desires and attitudes with regard to any specific thing, I can want a cigarette and not want a cigarette at the same moment in time, whether I actually smoke one depends on what face is showing.

Controlling behaviour, whether it is controlling smoking or controlling taking shit at work or controlling my interactions with wimminz is then simply a matter of controlling what faces or facets of my personality are allowed to spend time being visible in the helmet as my outward public face / personality trait.

By the same token, NOT controlling behaviour is to let any face that wants to take its turn in the helmet, and the next face in line is always the one that shouts loudest to be next in the helmet.

One of the tenets of MGTOW is “Judge people by their actions, not their words.”… so Fred / Wilma will turn up at your place at 7 pm as agreed if that is what they actually want to do, forget what they say they want, and similarly 7 pm will come and go and no sign or Fred / Wilma and maybe even no excuse, if that is also what they actually want to do, forget what they say they want.

Wild horses won’t stop the face in control at 6:45 pm from doing what it wants, so it is just a question of is the face in control at 6:45 pm the same one that said they would be at yours at 7 pm, or not…

While all people have this facility, in the case of wimminz that mechanism is tuned and maintained and lubed and honed to perfection, you can be sat with a wimminz who is showing face #27 of her repertoire, look away for an instant to pick up your coffee cup, take a sip, go to put the cup down, look back at the wimminz and there is face #13, and you never saw the transition….

Of course, everyone CAN control which face is showing, watch the “out of control” wimminz suddenly control herself when the boys in blue arrive, watch the “in control” wimminz suddenly break down and cry when the niggerz appears on the scene to support her, watch the kid run home and not actually start crying until they get to their own driveway, watch the police, watch the judge, watch the politician…

So, why do people do it?

Basically it’s a coping mechanism, watch the skanks on the slut walk, just daring everyone NOT to call their bluff that they are really just pathetic scared lonely unfuckable losers, campaigning for the *right* for the unfuckably ugly and nasty to walk unmolested at night, because lets face it NOBODY molests them, except drunks, and that is the fucking problem, so try and bring about a state of affairs where another face in the helmet can deny that the real reason for this is that they are unfuckably ugly and nasty, and claim that it is because they have “taken back the night” (from whom, precisely)

And so, we come yet again to a hard wired evolutionary trait, a process that develops over millennia and longer, stuck in a technological society that arose from nothing in the last century or two, not even an eye-blink in evolutionary terms, and so everything is out of sync.

Treating wimminz as we do in modern western society is LITERALLY as insane as taking a large predator such as a bear or big cat for a house pet, and claiming that all you have to do is treat it nicely and it will be nice back and never fuck you up, just because that is it’s nature.

Predators and other animals may well have less faces to choose from to display in their helmets, but the transitions are just as sudden and rapid and unpredictable, the only thing you can predict with any certainty is that these transitions will indeed occur.


Let’s take an arbitrary environment, let’s say it is a lush valley, let’s say that valley can support 2,000 lbs of carnivorous predator.

Nature has a choice, 2 x 1,000 lb huge predators, or 20 x 1oo lb medium predators, or 2,000 x 1 lb predators.

Nature being a fan of playing all bets at once you’ll get 2 x 500 lb predators, big cats or bears, 8 x 100 lb medium sized predators, fox / wolves / coyote, and 200 x 1 lb small predators, shrews and voles etc, and yes all my sizes and weights are off, but the principle is sound….

There is a valid argument that back in the day man did not domesticate dogs, so much as dogs domesticated themselves to benefit from living with men…

In the last 50,000 years man has influenced dog’s breeding, but not genetics or heritage or future genetic potential, and so we now have much bigger dogs than would exist in the wild, and some much smaller dogs than would exist in the wild.

Man has been living with woman for far longer, and just because there is no Kennel Club for wimminz, it does not mean that selective breeding is not taking place, nature ALWAYS has a seat at the table, and now we get CONTENTIOUS.


DNA is in many ways just DNA’s way of making more DNA, as far as nature and DNA is concerned, if a million human babies are born today then a million new DNA replicators are born, nature and DNA does not care if this or that individual breeds, you cousin’s DNA is close enough, if he breeds and you don’t DNA wins.

But on the smaller scale, the selective breeding is always taking place, being contentious, having two children and giving them a hell of a start in life is one strategy, having ten and letting the dice fall where they may is another, nature being nature both strategies and everything in between will be played all the time, nature is a numbers game.

And so to the bone of contention, nature and DNA have no stake in “failed” genetic experiments, you can be homosexual or heterosexual or bisexual or anything else, but if you don’t breed, then nature and DNA are quite happy for you to write your own individual genetic material out of the never ending story.

For much of human history, having six kids that lived and four that died was normal.

So wimminz today retain the ability to simply write off three of four kids, whether to abortion or abandonment or even being killed by their mother, it is hard wired.

But wimminz today also retain the ability to HAVE six kids, but many / most are stuck with 2.2, and an ever increasing number, the unfuckably ugly and nasty, and stuck at a big fat 0

This then, is where and why and how the faces come in to play, and with the exception of the “breeders” many of those hard wired faces are useless and surplus to requirements, but still there, still wanting face time in the helmet, and as the saying goes, the devil finds work for idle hands.

If you think nothing on the planet infuriates a feminist as much as telling them they should be at home surrounded by six happy kids, because deep within their own programming tells them the same thing, try that same line on the unfuckably nasty, or the infertile, or the ones who have “postponed” kids for a career, and you will discover the human equivalent of the very short fuse attached to the very large bomb…. Usain Bolt isn’t fast enough to light that fucker and sprint for safety…

…but if you watch REALLY closely, you can just about catch the 1/1,000th of a second transition from one face to another.

September 16, 2012

That dog won’t hunt.


There are lots of words for the same thing, feminism, equality, affirmative action, as usual with words that are actually written in lowercase but uttered in uppercase, their true meaning and intent is usually the direct opposite of their written intent and meaning.

Operation Iraqi Freedom” to give just one example…

So, let us look at the picture here on the right…

One of these is a retriever, one is a hunter turned gamekeeper.

One is trained to be a guide dog for the blind, one is trained to be a police / military attack dog.

They are not the same, they are not equal, they are not fungible, and speaking as someone who has always owned Alsatians, THEY know this, you only have to watch an Alsatian swagger through a crowd of other dogs of other breeds, to see this fact.

The ONLY times I have ever seen anything other than swagger from an Alsatian around other dogs is when they meet Doberman, then they both swagger, in an entirely different way, and then you see some real “equal but different“… “uh huh, you think you can run and hunt motherfucker, you’re “it”….” zoooom…

Of course when I am speaking of the nature of Alsatians I speak of their true nature, when they live with a minimum of two others of their kind, the mini pack, not the solitary hound at home.

A friend of mine used to keep a dozen of them, go out in the field / long grass / woods and see the two frolicking in front of you and wagging their tails at you, then, if you were smart, notice the other ten at all points of the compass around you, either stalking you or guarding your perimeter, depending on how they saw you….

Feminazi society will and does mandate, and enforce by law, not just Labrador as police dogs and Alsatians as guide dogs for the blind, at a push you could sorta squint and get away with that one, but terriers as guide dogs, sausage dogs as sheep herders, chihuahuas as police attack dogs, danes as varmint / rabbit hounds, pugs as trackers…

Not only this, but it is off to the vets for anyone who dare criticise this.

Comment that the pug makes a better police attack dog than the chihuahua, and off to the vets with the pug, to remove whatever “unfair” advantage it may be “enjoying“.

Wimminz are the soft and fluffy nurturing ones, while the evil men are all nasty and creepy and evil and must be kept awy from kids….

Just sayin’……



August 6, 2012

Standards, everyone’s got them, all different

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:48 am

It’s interesting, because you can talk to a young chick who takes around 300 new cocks a year doing porn, and ask her where she draws the line… the answer is always one of three things, and the one you hear first is “animals”

O really o’reilly, so you take 300 new cocks a year, but you draw the line at 1 dog cock…. how very interesting.

picture yourself as a man, which would you choose, the chick who has taken 300 human cocks in the past year, or the chick who has taken 1 dog cock, I know, a moot point because the chances of either of these chicks being honest with you about their past is basically zip… but to get back to the standards.

Once you get that the chick above isn’t actually saying no to dog cocks, what she is doing is drawing a line in the sand that is the other side of WHAT SHE IS ALREADY DOING, declaring stuff on the other side of that line to be no-go, and then pointing at the line itself as a proof that she has “standards” and is therefore a moral agent within herself.

Chicks in porn always do this (and so do chicks not in porn, but chicks in porn have to do it consciously) line in the sand thing, there is one thing they won’t do “at work”, whether it be anal, double anal, bukkake, rimming, there is always something they hold back from, and this is their proof to themselves that they have “standards”

Other chicks who don’t do porn also have these “standards” and they are equally bizarre and arbitrary, I have talked to chicks on PoF IM and the bitches are as hot as fuck for me to use and abuse them, then suddenly we will hit a “standard” and she will just vanish into thin air.

That standard WILL be as arbitrary as I have cropped/long hair, lots of / no tats, blue/brown eyes, and when you hit one of these “standards” the chick always vanishes.

Wimminz are unlike men, when you hit a wall men want to know what it was, where they stand, a man will be happy with “sorry, but you look too much like my ex”, he may not like it, but it is something to hang your hat on and walk away from, wimminz on the other hand just want to snap like a dry biscuit and walk away with no backward glance and no explanation.

I have had wimminz who I have met (as agreed) in a pub, and we grab a drink (she pays) and we sit down, and then I will say something that ran up against one of her “standards” and she will “go to the toilet” which means leaving by the back door, never to be seen again.

Fuck it, I have a free drink >;*)

Wimminz of course change their appearance almost daily, you can go on to PoF and look at a wimminz profile and say she has 4 profile pics, all will look different,in one she may have blonde hair, in a another red, in one she is dressed like a nurse, in another in an LBD, in one she is posing in front of a bike or car, in another she is lying on a bed…

If you are wise and do not use public profile pics, you have a choice when she asks you for a pic, do you send the pic of you working at IBM in shirt and tie, or do you send the pic of you wearing a vest working on your Harley? Pick the wrong one and the bitch will vanish.

Good luck with guessing, such as seeing references to Mr Grey in her profile and sending the smooth bastard in the smart duds pic, because there you are operating on logic, and logic has nothing to do with this shit.

Good luck (re above) knowing what her ex looks like, and choosing to send the pic that doesn’t look too much like him, because as often as not, when she says you look too much like her ex, what she actually means is too much on one side of her ex, when what she is looking for is too much on the other side of her ex.

In fact the only hard and fast rule regarding these standards is that any action, words or behaviour on your part that triggers these “standards” or even threatens to question them, is an instant death sentence as far as any further contact with said wimminz is concerned… at that point you become irredeemably creepy, or a bastard, or maybe both.

Which can be difficult, because these standards always have three things in common;

  1. They are completely hidden
  2. They are completely arbitrary
  3. They are not to be brought to concious awareness in said wimminz “mind”

If you are drawing analogies to land-mines, you are on the right track, if you think having any dealings whatsoever with wimminz be anything other than walking through a fucking minefield then allow me to introduce you to brothers who have been the victims of False Rape Accusations to the police, or false DV / child abuse accusations in secret family court.

Saying “Huh?” and questioning the relative merits of 300 human cocks vs 1 dog cock is an exact equivalent to dancing a fucking jig when you have suddenly been told you are standing in the middle of a fucking minefield.

If you are SMART and shut the fuck up and listen, you will often hear a monologue, the TRUE vagina monologues, as the wimminz in question indulges in a series of castles in the sky, self delusions and outright denials of physical reality, as she wards off the evil spectre of having come face to face with one of her own “standards”… you yourself are still history, but listening to this psychobabble can be instructive in itself.

Catch-22 doesn’t just apply to the military, it is a fundamental part of the BIOS of wimminz, and it cannot be understood, because it is just delusional garbage, but to the wimminz that delusional garbage is more precious to them than any man ever could be.

Wimminz know this about each other, and like the mad hatters tea party, wimminz get on with each other because they all know the only thing you need to know about wimminz, that you never, ever, ever question the logic or sanity or validity of anything they say, ever, because to do so is to reveal that the minefield actually exists….

March 25, 2012

Sometimes, wimminz can be so sweet…

…and I mean that in the way that when you hear wimminz at the school gate talking about their little tearaways affectionately… eg not that fucking much… lol

…so anyways, one of my skanks calls me last night, basically she has been on PoF and found a guy and met him (and wimminz are sooooooooo different from men huh… lol) and rocks up back to his pad and blows him but doesn’t feel like fucking him, so she thinks “Hey, I am in the same town/city as AfOR, I’ll just give him a bell and see if he is in and feels like fucking me!

So that is what she does, and as I have been playing Mass Effect 3 (talk about a mangina niggerz game) and am just about ready for bed, but frankly a quick fuck would not go amiss, I accept her offer… she knocks on the door, walks in, I bend her over the sofa and raise her dress and fuck her doggy style… within 5 minutes she has gone, she got what she wanted, I got what I wanted, and brother, there is nooooo illusions here about the nature of wimminz, or what wimminz want, or indeed any pretence from these wimminz who make the grade with me and get past the first fuck.

And so sometimes we “see” each other on-line, or we text, and there is no bullshit, no snide “are you busy” crap, any more than meeting someone else in aisle 8 at the local supermarket, you are both out there shopping, browsing, looking for something to tempt you… big deal.

And this really is the thing, like the mums at the school gates with their shared bullshit “aww he is so cute” attitude to little Terence calling Miss Moorcroft the head teacher a skank ho, once the cat is out of the bag, there is no putting it back.

Once you get THAT level of honesty with a few wimminz, there is no putting it back, it is not just that you know you could never go back to being “in a relationshit” with these wimminz, the point is THEY know it, so there are whole encyclopaedias of shit tests they will not even bother pulling on you.

They may however call you from time to time and offer you a quick fuck.

Of course, this is 100% opposite of everything you have ever been told about the wimminz, and what they really want from men, and how to get a wimminz, and how to keep one and make on happy etc etc etc.

Thing is, there are a quite a few wimminz on PoF that I meet that I quite like to talk to, and even quite like, one is a whore, OK she isn’t plying that trade right now, but she did for many years and would do again if there was a way to prevent her kids finding out about it… it’s all image you see, not what you actually do, but what other people think you do…

So anyway, this whore, she says to me one day “I love you AfOR and love to hang out with you, but we can never ever fuck, because you know what women are really like, and I know what men are really like

And we grin at each other and I say “Yeah, but if we did the sex would be really good” and we both laugh, because it would be, or it would be really awful.

But we have that thing that I have heard tell many couples get AFTER the divorce is settled, when they are finally at least partially honest with each other for the first time in years, and both admit fucking someone else.

That “thing” is that you don’t actually like that person as a person, the illusions and rose tinted glasses and romantic bullshit are all stripped away from your eyes, sure they may be great to hang out with, but to live with as a couple, ugh….

… and that is what my whore friend was referring to, because she spent years fucking men for money, she figured she already had the best of them, and didn’t want the rest, and as for me, she knew that I knew all wimminz were exactly like her.

We had our first “shit test” when I said she was a whore, present tense, and she said used to be a whore, my attitude prevailed, and I said “baby, you will know better than me, ALL wimminz are whores” and she said “yeah, but at least I am honest about it“, and I said “yeah, and you probably gave good value for money too.” and that is where we became mates…. not good mates, but like my skank ho’s, no bullshit mates.

March 23, 2012

Any chick can get laid any time

while no man can…..

I am sick and fucking tired of hearing this same old same old bullshit.

I fuck more wimminz than most men, and I interact with a shit load more for the purpose of fucking them, which means that compared to *most* men I can speak with some authority, because I have essentially done some market research and “our survey says”.

Now at this point I will ask you to note that I make a clear and distinct difference between what the wimminz will say in an actual survey, and what is the truth…

9 out of 10 wimminz say their pussies prefer…… being filled with cock and cum

There is this idea going around that any wimminz can get laid at any time, day or night, and yes a lot of wimminz are saying that too, and yes there is an element of truth in it, IF THE WIMMINZ IS PREPARED TO ACCEDE TO THE MARKET FORCES EXTANT AT THAT PLACE AND TIME, and that may include blowing the local homeless wino in an alley to fulfil the claim that any wimminz can get laid at any time.

One of the regular ones you hear is even morbidly obese wimminz can get laid, but boys, the cock count is astronomical, and no it does not mean she is so attractive and that is why she has had 200 cocks at the age of 35, it means she is so hideous she had to stay partially dressed and give alley sex to any drunken marine recruit that wanted it, and NO FUCKER even came back for seconds.

The flip-side is true for men, any man can get laid at any hour of day or night, but you will be fucking some truly hideous and disgusting creatures….  I had a work colleague called S****, he used to smell, and lived out of bin liners in a succession of flop houses, I figure he used to get laid now and again because he now and again mention some bitch he was in a casual relationship with, but I have to tell you, I would not want to fuck any wimminz who would fuck the likes of S****…. you know what I mean boys….

99% of the reason I get to send a few messages on PoF, exchange 2o or 30 SMS messages and then meet and fuck as kinky as I like is due to the market forces extant, and they are that most wimminz are gagging for it, and not getting it…..

The other 10% is I know all wimminz are filthy lying whores who worship the cock, so I am not constantly cock blocking myself by treating them like decent human beings

While it is fun an exciting to think of myself as a sex god, the truth is I am a fairly average looking skinny fucker in his fifties with a fairly average cock, chicks always think it is a lot (at least an inch or two in length and girth) bigger if you have an attitude that you are going to fuck the shit out of them and they are just warm meat… they love that crap.

So if Mr Average skinny fucker with an average cock can get the wimminz to spread so easily, you can basically go one of two ways;

1/ You can go the marketing route and claim that it is all the Lynx effect.

2/ You can go the factual route and observe that there appears to be a market niche for what I offer, no strings kinky sex at essentially the drop of a hat via the convenience of on-line shopping H^H^H^ PoF.

Option #1 flatters, so it is easier and nicer and more ego stoking to buy into.

Option #2 is the cold hard truth.

My whole internet dating strategy is to simply, no more and no less, increase the size of the selection pool, so that I am not reduced to the situation of either fucking wimminz who will fuck guys like S****, or staying at home and having a wank.

“any wimminz can get laid” is not merely a lie, it is doublethink…

It is said by wimminz and niggerz in denial to pretend that they only reason THEY aren’t getting laid tonight is because they can’t be bothered to make the effort.

It is denial of the fact that you either get to fuck the unfuckables like the smelly and fat, or you get to fuck the total sluts like me or the skanks I fuck.

It is denial of the fact that you are confusing and substituting fucking, for and with human social interaction and relationships.

None of the skank ho’s I fuck are relationshit (of any kind) material… get over it.

Now your only problem is do you choose AWALT or NAWALT, if you think it is NAWALT then good luck with that, you are in for a miserable life as a niggerz slave.

There ain’t no such things as unicorns or magic or nice marriageable free wimminz.

Wimminz were only ever relationship material when they are denied all of the freedoms that the modern western wimminz has, the freedom to act without ever personally facing the consequences, the freedom to unilaterally place all the blame for anything, even made up shit, on the men around them, and the freedom to not have to actually do anything productive to earn a living.

Start separating out that shit into discrete piles.

Unicorns and relationship material wimminz and wimminz who can get quality cock at the drop of a hat are all make believe.

Plow horses, cum buckets, and wimminz who are near enough my equivalent and can get my cock without too much hassle, are all very much the reality of the day.

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