Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

November 14, 2012

Little Bo Bernanke

The riddle / rhyme about Bo Peep works for the wimminz, leave them alone, and they’ll come home, wagging their tails behind them.

It’s not the first time I have seen parallels between wimminz and sheep, both run away if you chase them, both bleat a lot, both are as dumb as a box of rocks.

Which brings me to a recent story kinda doing the rounds, which suggests that humans aren’t as intelligent now as they were a couple of thousand years ago.

The author is correct, and also deeply mistaken.

The brain is a muscle in exactly the same way that my biceps are, the more they are worked the more powerful they become, (within limits, severe overwork will damage them) and the less they are worked the more atrophied they become.

In this example we would equate the power of the muscle with the intellect in the brain.

The more you use your brain, the more intelligent you become.

At this point, please do NOT confuse intelligence and that thing known as an IQ test, which is in reality no more than a reading language and comprehension test… “Roofs are to houses as xxx are to options 1, 2 and 3

Means sweet fuck all if you can’t speak English, or can’t read because you were never taught, or any number of another things

I could print that test question in Chinese ideograms and 99.99% of my readers wouldn’t know it from a menu item and a takeaway, so they would get an IQ score of zero for that one…  clearly, any test of INTELLIGENCE would not depend upon language.

use as many or as few of these items as you choose, and get yourself from this side of the river to that side of the river over there, without getting your feet wet.. the person who does it in the minimum time is the winner” is much more of an intelligence test.

I know someone who did this and won, after much argument with the judges, by wrapping his feet in two refuse sacks and taping them up with duct tape and swimming across… HE got fucking soaked… his feet however were indeed dry.

So let us look at a list of the skills one needs to master, and exercise the brain in doing so, in modern western society…

  • Nobody builds their own house, so construction skills are not required, nor are skills such as cutting down trees to get wood or smelting iron ore to make nails etc
  • Nobody catches or prepares their own food, it is all pre processed and much of it is partially or wholly pre-cooked.
  • Nobody makes fire, click, oven turned on.
  • Nobody makes tallow candles, click.
  • Nobody makes clothes, or repairs them, no one can sew or darn, a skill ALL men had 50 years ago.
  • No job needed, guvvmint will give you a cheque, especially if you are a wimminz with womb turds
  • No entertainment needed, turn on the idiots lantern
  • No sanity needed, always doctors on call
  • You get the idea

It is quite possible to get to say 30 years of age and never to have once had to puzzle a single thing out in order to stay alive, in fact it is not merely possible, but it is extremely likely to be so.

In fact, it takes extraordinary dedication and talent to die young in western society… I’ve lived over half a century and I do not know ANYONE in western society who;

  1. starved to death
  2. failed to obtain both clothing and footwear
  3. got eaten by a predator
  4. died of dehydration
  5. failed to get any access to medical treatment ever
  6. failed to get access to dietary necessities (no more rickets etc)
  7. died of dysentry or cholera or dihorrea or malnutrition
  8. etc etc

Hell, I have known people so abjectly stupid they got shit-faced on psychotropic drugs and ended up unconscious, smashed up and bleeding somewhere, minutes or hours away from certain death BEFORE they would ever regain conciousness or do anything about it, and STILL someone came along and called someone else who involved some other and saved their worthless fucking lives.

Contrast this to some places on the planet where pre-teen orphan kids think themselves lucky, literally, if they can find some rotting fish heads to eat.

I walk up and down the aisles in my local supermarket and I feel like that 2,000 year old man, aisles and aisles of stuff made to be eaten, but no actual fucking FOOD….

Take away the biscuits and crisps and pastries and cakes and sweets and instant meals and pot noodles and nappies and 4,096 varieties of shampoo and you have maybe 10% of the supermarket left, take away the booze and you’re down to 5%, take away the tobacco and you’re down to 3% left which is actual fucking food.

Three time so far in my life I have seen supermarket shelves emptied of bread, and shelves full of plain flour, emptied of milk, but tins of condensed milk and cans of powdered milk and the odd carton of UHT long life milk left, cleared of instant meals, but 2 Kg bags of rice and tins of curry and chile left.

I have visitors to my crib laugh, because I buy bog rolls in packs of 24 and never have less than 6 on hand, I never have less than 5 kilos of sugar on hand or a kilo of coffee, never have less than a dozen tins of some sort of meat and a kilo or rice.

What they don’t realise is that a case of 8 (400g)tins of beef curry, 8 tins of chile, 8 tins of minced beef and onions all at 90p a tin, plus a 2 kg bag of rice, and the odd things like a fresh onion or three and some herbs and spices will keep you not merely alive but well fed on one good meal a day for almost a month, and none of that shit goes off in 24 hours without refrigeration etc, and push comes to shove you can do it all in one pan cooking style off any heat source good enough to simmer a couple of pints of water.

Sugar and coffee and bog roll and a few bars of soap and whatnot and you’re good to go.

A 15 Kg bottle of butane or two, regulator and gas ring and you’re really good to go.

That lot and four 5 gallon plastic jerry cans full of potable water will all go in the boot of a car, which is itself shelter from the direct elements of wind and rain, and you really really are good to go.

I’m not even “prepping” and I have nearly a month’s food and shit to hand, and I can move it all to a car in maybe 5 minutes.

I mean really, what the fuck were these people in NY thinking of???

I just got my quarterly bills for the crib… crib includes a workshop out the back, and in the crib it is a technology wet dream, approx £90 each for gas, water and electric, this is £3 a day for gas water and electric, £4 a day if you include teh intertubez cable sub

This all means I can live COMFORTABLY and run a fucking car on £100 a week.

In reality I live better than kings did as recently as 100 years ago.

But then, I don’t live with a fucking wimminz… when I did the bills were £300 a week and MY fucking lifestyle was no different.

However, on the other side of Europe the Greeks have refused to put Athens metro fares up from 1.4 euros to 1.75 euros (both figures are heavily subsidised) because to them this is an “austerity measure” too far…


Because the fucking wimminz will be up in arms.

They are in for a rude fucking awakening, but thank fuck I am too old and ornery to be drafted for WW3…

October 31, 2012

Ain’t fattening no more frogs for snakes.

(It means do not put too much effort into improving someone when they could leave, and you will have lost too much of your money, time, and energy/love. The moral is you should find a fat frog to begin with.)

The red pill is a curse, a bit like the toxoplasma gondii brain parasite, once infected, or more accurately once the infection is cleared, you just can’t look at some shit the same way ever again.

Once you rid yourself of the blue pill that tells you to fatten frogs for snakes, well, you just can’t look at some shit the same way ever again. No Sir.

When the wimminz realise that you have given up frog rearing, they will look at you with that peculiar “does not compute” crossed with “waiting for the predator to strike” look, and that shit you either know what I am about from first hand experience or you don’t.

But, once you have swallowed that red pill and had that particular meme / parasite burned from your brain, damn but that shit makes you aloof and philosophical, 100% of wimminz endeavour and 100% of niggerz endeavour, which means 95% of human endeavour, is like watching cows graze, it apparently has purpose, but it is devoid of all sentience.

A couple of PoF chats I have had recently…

Wimminz “I am waiting till I find someone who is my equal!

AfOR “Well I suggest you become a lesbian then.


Wimminz “Why are you so nasty to me when I lust after you so much?

AfOR “Whatever


Thing is, I’m more than willing to date a “fat frog”, but she better have got fat by her own efforts, I am totally unwilling to date skinny frogs that expect me to feed them, or partly fed frogs that got fed by other men, they are pump and dump material, and self made fat frogs are like the proverbial unicorn shit….. in theory there may be some out there somewhere, but scientists have yet to discover them.

Sometimes you think you may have found a potential candidate, but bide your time, chances are she is just holding her breath, blowfish style, or if you are really unlucky, so inflated with toxins she is about to burst.

And so I have become, Zen like, the Restaurant At The End Of The Hypergamy Universe for the wimminz, and they want to come along and choose from the menu of my accumulated wisdom and experience, they want to order scrambled eggs, but they want it without any milk or butter in the ingredients, and free range zero calorie eggs, and by the way I have no money so can I have this on layway where the bills never come due and I can sit here and keep ordering exotic dishes.

So I point them to the sign above the door, “Ain’t fattening no more frogs for snakes” and the sign above the bar “No credit” and the sign over the other door, “Exit

They look at me like I am mad, and gesture around my restaurant at the end of the hypergamy universe, where all the tables are empty, and say but I have NO customers, you have to treat frogs nicely if you want to have customers, so I just smile at them with a well fed predator’s grin and say, “That’s the way I like it baby, this is MY place, and I LIKE IT LIKE THAT

I remember Frank Future, he was delicious.

And so the penny drops, and most of them stomp out of the exit while telling me I have a very small penis and will never get a real woman (thank fuck for that, the plan must be working) and a few of them start to blubber that life just isn’t worth living, so they too stomp out of the exit when I direct them to the funeral parlour 5 doors down… of course, being wimminz, they end up in the massage parlour next door… hey, it was nearer and easier, right…

November 26, 2011

Skankin’ dreadstop

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:46 pm

Well tonight was an interesting night.

It was interesting because it proves that anyone can fuck up, even me… lol

The signs were all there early on, and I broke my own rule about limiting my expenditure to one cup of coffee and splashed for the motel room, basically on the promise of total sexual obedience.

What I got was (apart from dumping two loads into her) was total disobedience, didn’t matter what I said, she had to resist just doing it, and then denied utterly that she was being anything other than totally obedient.

So for me instead of an all-nighter it was a “fuck it, I’m outta here” and since I had not been hitting the vodka bottle I could do just that, get in my car and drive…. there was nothing else to do because false advertising, a wimminz claiming she is something she is not, eg 100% obedient in bed, is a total turn off, and fuck it, I ain’t there for the company or conversation or to keep my feet warm…. the skank ho also did not read my profile and complained about my cigars… told her straight, my profile says “smoker”, your profile says fuck all about stretch marks and a sagging belly, and also says “occasional” drinker… gesturing at the half empty bottle of vodka that was nearly full two hours before.

I have no clue if she is still there, or DUI on the way home, not my problem (again, archived SMS / IM / etc so my ass is well and truly covered) when what should happen on my drive home but the fugly skank with the great bod mentioned previously rings me to tell me her teenage daughter is having a stayover at her dads, do I want to come over and use and abuse her for an hour or two.. lol

BTW, you gotta check out the Red Riding Whore link at the bottom.

So anyway, back to the plot.

The plot is you gotta learn to listen to your instincts, no matter how quietly they whisper in your ear, in this case when I spoke to this skank on the phone prior to meeting her she sounded as thick as shit, not so much a conversation peppered with “yeah”, “hmm”, “You know”, but a conversation consisting mainly of such inanities, and a little voice asking me what the fuck am I doing talking to this dumb bitch…

I could have saved the 40 spondulicks I blew on the motel room, on the other hand, it was a timely lesson well worth 40 spons, and fugly with the hot bod came through to save the day anyway.

Then I come home to find a message from a 29 year old chick on PoF, we’re off for coffee the coming weekend, she is buying, so the skank above and the red riding whore slut below both have that “surplus to requirements, sold as seen” status firmly embedded in their psyche, and I have had a top up of the attitude required to exist on the same planet as wimminz, you really do get desensitized to what useless lying fucks they are, and getting desensitized is incredibly fucking dangerous…

If you are lucky, and have made your own luck, you will find yourself in a motel room, sober, with a car outside and SMS / IM etc archived in the cloud, and some fugly skank ho slut lying on the bed available to fuck, but zero further interest.
Shrug, walk away, get in car, drive away, get on with YOUR life.

If you are unlucky, and have not made your own luck, you will find yourself trapped with the bitch, whether just for the night, or for far longer, or the light at the end of the tunnel is the FRA train coming to smash you.

Thank God I am a Man.

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