Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

January 2, 2014

Here comes the mirror man…

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:54 am

It’s one of the truisms of the men’s world nowadays that whenever a guy describes his story with the psycho ex in great detail, out of the woodwork come a bunch of other guys who are all OMFG, I feel like you have been spying on my with concealed cameras in my home for the past seven years, because you just described EXACTLY what I had…

Yeah, wimminz all be unique little snowflakes… not.

So sooner or later you realise the wimminz play-book has only a limited number of tactics in it, and you can soon learn them all, and then spot them all.

The guy feeling like he is all WTF I don’t understand what is going on there must be something but she won’t tell me what and I do not UNDERSTAND this because literally one minute it was fucking great and next thing I know for no reason that I can see or discern it’s like I don’t exist… bwaaa…

.. is one of them.

You have all felt it and been there.

It is quite excusable, the FIRST time you experience it first hand, to give a fuck, and to want to know what is wrong and what you can do to fix whatever it is, because you have no fucking clue… this is after all a man’s nature, to fix things and understand things.

It’s not like she has told you you are through and go FOAD, so you know where you stand.

Giving that fuck is however extremely dangerous, it can and does quite easily lead to escalating drama and consequences down the line, life changing ones for you, possibly even life ending… certainly false accusations and the abduction of any children you have with her, this shit is really only a matter of when, not if.

Not giving the fuck is what happens when you learn it is just play #x in the wimminz play-book.

But.

Men being men, they still want to understand, so here is your explanation.

To a guy, you can introduce the concept of a “sandbox“, a figurative word to describe a situation where you have a thing going on in life, and that thing, like the sand in a kid’s sandbox, is kept contained and constrained within its strictly defined boundaries, so as not to contaminate everything else.

Tell him to sandbox his work, or his drinking, or whatever, and gets it and is fine with that.

Try to introduce this concept to a wimminz, and the first thing you get is wonder, and then their heads assplode and bits of hamster wheel and toilet roll go flying everywhere, because they can never actually grasp the idea of having one thing that is kept entirely separate from the rest of their lives.

Proper masculine men *can* make great engineers and lawyers and coders and so on, because of this, for the duration of the exercise they can set aside what they ACTUALLY know, and pretend to work with only what is inside the sandbox knowledge.

I personally know of several instances of chains of small groups of people that were specifically set up to reverse engineer a patented product and come up with something that did the same job but that was patent free, that all failed spectacularly because one wimminz or one wimminz and her beta niggerz in the teams failed at sand-boxing, and the end product was a litigation nightmare.

I knew a guy once, years ago, he was a truly great liar, not because he could convince anyone that his lies were truth, but because every time you picked a hole in one of his lies, he just told another lie to fill it, and he could keep this shit up for hours, so long you forgot the original premise and even the will to live.

Contrast this with a wimminz, who will quite quickly just lose it and start shouting at you for not believing her, and then going silent and not answering any new questions, or giving the same answers as she gave already.

Wimminz can’t sandbox, and they know this, instinctively.

So, to get back to the thing that started all this, some poor bastard stood there in confusion and going all WTF???!!!??? And if he is unlucky giving a fuck, and if he is experienced enough at the wimminz play-book not giving a fuck.

If I steal 5 bucks from your wallet, I *know* I stole 5 bucks from your wallet, I cannot remove that knowledge from my head, and so I cannot perfectly mimic the guy stood next to me, who did not steal 5 bucks from your wallet, doesn’t know fuck all about 5 bucks, or your wallet, and doesn’t much give a fuck either way, as long as nobody is pointing the finger at him.

I, being the one who knows he stole your 5 bucks, am anxious to avoid any probing questioning, and specifically any further answers that might arise out of my answers to those questions, the guy next to me, he doesn’t give a fuck.

The wimminz, knowing instinctively that she cannot sandbox, acts like the guy who stole 5 bucks, they will avoid the potentially unpleasant and embarrassing situation, and all the questions that arise.

They cannot sandbox, so they are not going anywhere near letting the guy know WTF was going on with regards to him, because they know that will open the door to other stuff, stuff that they do NOT want to discuss with him, or have him know, or have him question her about.

Now, I am not saying that this necessarily tells you whatever it was that was her real reason, specifically, so you can’t take this and say OK, this is proof she is fucking some other guy, that isn’t what it is at all, it could just as easily, and in fact is more likely, to be the case that whatever she was or is doing now, it is incompatible with and mutually exclusive to, something that she previously told you about herself.

That *might* be that she is fucking some other guy, or it might be that she works checkout at walmart and doesn’t sell real estate like she claimed, or the dead husband who was going to babysit the wombturds so she could come see you ain’t dead, he just had to work extra, and the imaginary babysitter of course couldn’t cover, or it may even be something a simple that there is something about herself being a fuckup that she doesn’t like, and there is no way to answer your questions without exposing that flaw to you.

The point YOU need to get as a guy, is that this play-book move ALWAYS has the same motive behind it for her, and that is keeping you in the dark about something.

It is more important to her that you do not know X,
than it is important to her to spend time in your company.

That, my friends, is all you need to know.

She would rather not be with you and keep her dirty little secret, than be with you and have her dirty little secret be exposed, and face questioning about it, questions to which she does not have good answers, which leads to more questions, etc etc etc.

Whenever you feel that WTF?!>! moment, or see a brother going through it, that is what is really going on.

So, I have a question for you, specifically for those of you who haven’t truly learned the wimminz play-book yet, and who still give a fuck, even a tiny one.

Why are you giving a fuck about someone to whom keeping their own dirty little secrets is more important than treating you like a decent human being?

What possible positive future or outcome do you hope for?

Push for answers and a resolution and the next thing you know the po-lice will be grabbing you by the collar, slapping the cuffs on, and charging you with harassment and intimidation and abuse.

And you STILL won’t be getting those answers you seek.

I have never yet met a man who had any of those questions answered honestly by the wimminz in question.

I know ONE man who had them answered posthumously when plod knocked on his door to inform him that his ex wife would not be collecting the kids as usual because she was dead, plod didn’t know anything at all about a sister, any sister, or any sibling, as next of kin, much less the sister who the wimminz was visiting every weekend for the past 5 years, 2 years separated and 3 years of marriage. Oh, and by the way, was he aware his ex wife was a swinger, and did he ever swing with her? Plod let him into her (used to be his) house, to get the kids clothes and toys, so he grabbed her laptop and later went through it. Then he found out.

It didn’t make him any wiser though, or tell him any USEFUL data that he had not already been given, simply by the fact that she preferred to keep him in the dark and fed on shit, while he went WTF?

Feel WTF? No freely volunteered info forthcoming from her?

Really, what else do you need to know?

Wimminz understand THAT message both instantly and perfectly.

Why don’t you?

January 1, 2014

Paying for sex.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 2:45 pm

I used to say, often, that I never paid for sex, and this was true, even when I was running a bar that catered to the US 6th fleet and got freebies from the girls, I was fucking whores and not paying for it…

Yet, in many ways it is also true that I never got sex for free, even the casual meaningless one off swingers site hookup involved the cost of a PC, the electric it used, the internet connection, and the extra hot water and soap shower afterwards.

Now I could talk about certain romantic days in the year, which could be any day with a “y” in it, or absence making the heart grow fonder, or whatever, but the fact is da wimminz have quiet periods too, and sometimes they will get to thinking of you, and, if you haven’t made it too unpleasant on them hamster wheel wise last time, who knows, maybe they will drop a dime on you.

And so it is, a couple of the lads are around, because frankly it is fucking pissing it down here, (this pic is my “recycling” bin, the fuckers left the lid open last collection, 19 days ago, as it was empty, nothing to recycle, so this is 19 days rain…)IMG_20140101_130504s and I have the heating on and endless supplies of good coffee and chillin’ sounds, and we are discussing shit like all the crap games on Steam, it’s like yank TV, 999 channels and nothing I want to watch, although Crysis 2 did get another outing last night, and new years resolutions.

So yes, my resolution for this year is get the bobber back together, road legal and on the road, it’s been too fuckin’ long, so that was discussed a little…

… and my phone goes, an SMS

So, there is this chick, we have been on and off, fucking wise, a couple of times already, off because she goes off on some hamster wheel insanity, on because when she isn’t on the hamster wheel insanity I connect to her quite well and the sex is fucking great, I don’t mind admitting this, I don’t see the problem, am I only supposed to fuck stuff I find revolting? How does that work?

So, the SMS pops up, and this point I’d better mention that one of these guys is a dude I have known for many years, married with kids now and freely admits his wife is nuts, but.. you know the score, at least he is getting his oats regular and there are the kids to think of, and the other guy is someone I have known 3 or 4 years, and this new years is his first anniversary of a nasty break up, he spent last new years in a police cell as a result… so…

The SMS pops up, and I get the oh noes you’re not really going to talk to the skank again are you schtick, and I am like, sure I am, the fucking was damn good, and it may be on the cards again if I play it cool…

But dude, they both chime in, look at the money you spent on the bitch….

So I had to explain the following points;

  1. Yes, I did spend considerably more money when I was in her company than I would have spent had I been sat at home alone for those same periods of time.
  2. A goodly proportion of that money was spent on me, for example if I buy her ingredients so she can cook me a meal that I like.
  3. A reasonable proportion of the money was spent on her, in such a way that at the point of spending I knew I was never going to see that money again, and that is the attitude I took while spending it, that it was being spent, never to be seen again.
  4. Despite all this “needless expenditure on a wimminz” I remain firmly in credit with the bank, all bills paid, zero debt, etc etc etc, so essentially I was spending money I could afford to spend.
  5. Even if you take the worst case scenario, paint it black as possible, include everything you possibly could and call it money spent on the skank, yes, that way it adds up to a large number, call it X bucks, but when you divide that number by the number of hours I spent in her company….. call it Y hours…
  6. I got, all together, five or six months of sexual entertainment, and some comforts and shit too, so that Y hours really is pretty significant, and as far as the X bucks, the married guy visiting spends more than that on being married in two weeks, and the first anniversary single guy spent more than that in fines in one night for punishment for decking the bitch, a straight right into the mouth, she flies back unconscious, in response to her spending 27 seconds (as recorded by CCTV) slapping him around the face for talking to “another girl” in the bar, the other girl being the chick he used to see every month when paying his rent to the flat rentals agency.

I wouldn’t like to sit here and give an actual number for the sum X bucks total / Y hours total and get an hourly rate, the margin for error is about the same magnitude as the number, so we are talking something of the order of a buck fifty / two bucks an hour, plus or minus up to 100%

So, the point of all this.

I would struggle, I really would, with the idea of handing over 50 quid or 100 bucks for an hour with a whore, or whatever the going rates are now for a HOT young 20’s all holes open for business whore.

It’s not the paying for it, it is too much money for not enough time is all.

Fifty quid / 100 bux for two hours I’d go for it, 50 for three hours I’d block book in advance.

Similarly, I struggle with the whole “girlfriend experience” thing, because it involves not just money, which I spend when I am with the skank in question, but time spent doing what SHE wants, which I do NOT do when I am with the skank in question.

Yes, I have spent significant amounts of money while being in this skanks company, over a period of 5 months or so, but as an hourly rate it prolly works out less than what I have spent on Steam, and it is money spent on MY leisure time, I wouldn’t be whining about spending money on a holiday to Acapulco, and dividing it by the number of times I got laid on that holiday, because I did other things than just getting laid, and the same holds true here.

Essentially, I didn’t do anything out of character, or that wasn’t selfish or in my own self interests, in fact the only way you can really fault it is from the “girlfriend experience” perspective, where you spent time with someone because you love them and they love you…sic..

Hell, if you want to talk about being a loser, look at this guy.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2531893/Nandos-fan-spent-1-000-meals-85-branches-win-free-food-life-discover-competition-ended.html

But even then you can say at least he got food in exchange for his money, even if his stated purpose was a complete failure.

My stated purpose was a complete success, for the time we spent together I had unlimited kinky sex and very pleasant company and comforts.

The sour taste bit keeps coming back, as I was trying to impress upon these two guys, that I was “paying for sex”, no cash, no gash, and that is the bit that sticks in the blue pill craw.

And the pseudo red pill craw too, you should not be effectively supporting these skanks by paying them to continue to be skanks.

Which is the point at which I depart company from many self professed MGTOW types, while not claiming to be MGTOW, or indeed anything else except me, I do not see how I have betrayed myself or my principles here.

So, I paid for sex+, (because I got a lot more than just sex, so I call it sex+) informally, not formally as with a whore.

Fucking frog and scorpion guys.

Paying a scorpion to dress up as a frog so you can have freaky kinky monkey sex with it doesn’t turn that scorpion into a frog, it was dress up, pretend, make believe.

WTF is porn, or marriage, or career, but make believe?

So the SMS came in, at this stage that is all it is, your guess is as good as mine as to whether I am going to spend any time with that skank in future.

Would I, given the opportunity? Hell yes…

In preference to the “closer to free” swinging NSA hookups? Hell yes…

Why?

Well, if you have 1,000 bucks in the bank and only so many meals you can eat in a day, would you choose between the 99c BK daily or the $5 Minute steak and blow job?

Very important point here, the INSTANT you stop talking discretionary spending and start eating in to bills and hobbies and garnishing future pay-checks to buy jewellery and gifts are cars and houses, it is an utterly different ball game.

Time is something we also spend, yeah, sure, I’d like it if the skank in question gave me all that she did out of pure love and the money ended up even, like a dog would like two dicks, but that wasn’t ever on offer.

I spent the money and the time, and the combination of the two was that I can look back on the time I did spend with that skank and grin, I had a fucking good time, and a good fucking time, and it was time and money well spent.

===================================

Of course, perception is a funny thing, I could take on board and internalise the whole paying for sex is wrong thing, or I could cut my cock off, or I could throw the baby out with the bathwater.

What is the ultimate goal here?

1/

To live by a set of rules in the hope that following these will somehow make life better.

2/

To do things (and fuck wimminz) in such a way that you can look back on them and grin and go YUP and should you be presented with the opportunity to take that ride again you go YUP. No regrets.

Seriously.

It is a profound question.

Let us say, right now, just for the purposes of example and argument, that the X bucks spent was 500, and the Y hours of cool company and creature comforts and kinky monkey sex was 250.

$2/hour

I could be sat here now with one of two outcomes;

  1. An extra $500 in the bank, but none of those memories of that kinky sex and creature comforts and good times.
  2. My current positive bank balance, and all those memories.

It’s back to that profound question about the ultimate goals here.

What matters is that FOR ME, I took the better of the two options.

Isn’t that what this should all be about, what is GENUINELY in my own personal long term best interests, looking back with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight.

Yahbut, they say, you clearly have a soft spot for this skank.

So?

I have a soft spot for Milan, doesn’t mean I want to fucking live there for the rest of my fucking life.

Where did this idea come from that ANY and every positive (or even non negative) opinion or feeling about a thing that is overall pretty bad and fucked up is a betrayal and dangerous etc etc.

Yeah, AWALT, AWALT means All Wimminz Are Like That, it does not mean that you are not allowed to find beauty in the curve of a tit or the folds of a cunt or a cute ass bent over in front of you.

You know there is really no purpose in your so called freedom and enlightenment if you gain the courage to declare that AWALT; but lack or lose the courage to state that some aspects of the female form are fucking beautiful, and that you do not regret one second that you spent enjoying that.

December 19, 2013

Into every life, a little rain must fall.


I often see democracy described as an absolutely crap way to run a country, and the only thing positive you could say about it was that all the alternatives were worse.MjAxMy1hYzU1YTQyMzYxZGE5M2Y3

Patriarchy, eg the way we used to run the world up until 1880 or so, could arguably be described the same way.

If you want to play devil’s advocate, you can make a case that wimminz are no worse than men when presented with an opportunity to exploit an unfair advantage, and all we are seeing now is da wimminz exploiting a whole slew of unfair advantages.

It is a sad fact of life that life is unfair, some people catch cancer at 16, some people catch a bullet, some are born the wrong colour for where they live, some are born with the wrong number of limbs or senses.

You can’t do anything about those so afflicted, but you can treat them with some compassion and humanity, and that is where it all falls down, because compassion and humanity are essentially charitable things, and when you legislate giving to a charity, it ceases to be a charity, it becomes taxation.

Chivalry, or other words to describe treating a wimminz with respect, opening doors, giving up seats, goes the same way, it is a charitable act given freely by those so inclined, but as soon as you legislate it, it becomes a tax, and it is no longer given freely by anyone, even those who would have given it freely in the past.

The recipients of charity might not have liked being the recipients of charity, “living on the parish” as it was known when my dad was a boy, before the welfare state and social security, was a thing of shame, nevertheless those who lived on the parish were grateful for what they were given, and there was a certain level of influence by the parish, if you were the modern “neighbour from hell” type, don’t expect more than stale bread in your weekly package.

The recipients of a “right” obtained by universal taxation are however quite a different breed, it is my fucking right, cunts, fucking give it to me NOW! ALL OF IT!

Now, let me tell you something you may not be consciously aware of.

You know those old sci-fi stories where they talked about robots making everything so nobody had to work, and they imagined everyone would lead a life of leisure.

Well, they are not sci-fi, thanks to industrialisation and technology, to all intents and purposes, nobody has to work, if you want to be fucking picky about it, maybe at most 2.5% of the population have to work.

For the first time in human history producing enough X for everyone is not a back breaking job that involves everyone, it isn’t even easy now, it is easier than that, it is trivial, so trivial that producing enough X for everyone is the last of the problems you face, the real stick is selling X, in a market flooded with similar things.

When I grew up, there was a fucking telephone, that is it, you could walk into ANY fucking house in the UK from Buckingham Palace on down, if they had a phone, they all had the SAME FUCKING PHONE.

Today, a list of telephones that you sit down and make with pen and paper, even if you manage somehow to do the research and list every single make and model and shape and colour and design and variety available, no mean task all by itself, said list is out of date the instant you finish it.

Telephones are just an example, you can say the exact same thing about anything and everything including tins of soup, trainers, cars, pencils and even fucking toilet roll for christ’s sake.

The other 97.5% of the population who don’t actually work, well, let them be hairdressers and sales advisers and computer programmers and HR types and real estate agents and clerks and shit, and give them money in exchange for this non-work, so they can choose between ( I just did this at Tesco website, search for “toilet roll”) ONE HUNDRED AND MOTHERFUCKING THIRTY MOTHERFUCKING SIX results / matches.

How many types of fucking soap powder does the planet fucking need, Tesco ALONE has more varieties of fucking soap powder than Heinz used to have as fucking product lines…

But far from the sci-fi dreams where this 97.5% of the population who don’t actually fucking work live carefree lives of leisure and pleasure, we all know is the reality is they would all be bored shitless, and within 12 months all of them would have become radicalised suicide bombers campaigning for the rights of rabbit droppings to remain undisturbed or some such crapola.

Hence, the pretend make work that they all do.

So, what price the economy, if 97.5% of the populace serve no purpose whatsoever other than being given some make believe make work to keep them out of trouble and make them think they have earned the money they splurge over choosing between which of 2,635 varieties of cup cake to eat with which of 385 varieties of coffee flavoured beverage?

If they stop “work”, it just means more idle hands for the devil, it doesn’t actually make the slightest bit of difference to how many different varieties of tampon the various manufacturers are able to produce.

Which goes some way to explaining something.20131124_o10corps

This… click it for the full size version

All that variety… not.. all those separate companies competing against one another…not… all that choice… not.

So here is a thought, as evil and crap for everyone except those who directly own and run those ten companies that own almost everyone one else in consumerland, what if like democracy and patriarchy, the only positive thing you can say about it is every possible alternative is worse, many of them much, much, worse…

If 97.5% of the population never having anything except a make believe fake job is crap, what if all the alternatives, including the sci-fi life of leisure, are worse, many of them much, much worse.

What if, everything about society and the economy and politics was fucking crap, but it just happened to be better than all the alternatives, so instead of leaving well enough alone all we have been doing if fucking with it in the name of equality or liberty or freedom or human rights, well, suddenly, not only is it all still crap, it is even more crap, so much so that increasing numbers of people start to question those alternatives, yeah, I know they are all worse than what we HAD, but in reality, how much worse are SOME of them, than what we have NOW?

What if, now things are going to hell in a handcart, the brakes, which were appeals made to my better nature, to my charity, no longer work, because the charity was taken away and replaced with a taxation, moreover, a taxation without representation, an unjust tax, one I DO NOT FUCKING LIKE…

What if, in an attempt to ensure that exactly the same number of raindrops of the same composition and the same size  falling at the same speed and same temperature on everyone, equally, we end up destabilising the weather to such an extent that only the extremes are now possible, fimbulwinter, or 40 days and nights of rain, or a Bradbury drought?

I’ll tell you something else that has changed, DRAMATICALLY, since I was a child, no, not human nature, that is immutable, but human beliefs.

Never, in all my born days, have I met so many people who GENUINELY believe in all kinds of arcane, improbable, implausible, and down right impossible shit, but then I wasn’t around in the middle ages.

Combine this with the facts that;

  1. the last of those who saw first hand the effects of a real war on white man’s soil are now in their 90’s
  2. the last of those who saw first hand the effects of a major economic bubble and depression are all dead
  3. the last of those who saw first hand the final stages of the rollout / step change from one fundamental set of technologies and industry to the next are all dead

And it doesn’t look good, unless you find change “interesting”, and I use that word in the sense of the Chinese curse, may you live in interesting times.

How ever much rain is falling on us men as individuals and absent fathers and guys living alone etc etc etc, it may well be time to invoke chamberlain and peace in our time, and macmillan and you never had it so good.

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?

<crickets>

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.

LETS ALL HAVE A BIG WAR.

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.

December 9, 2013

well sheeeit…


You see, while it may be true that there are more dyed in the wool red pillers who have been through the mill of the wimminz more than me…  the-frog-and-the-scorpion-metaphor-for-big-government-statists

It is also true that despite this vast experience, I have never quite managed to completely throw off the feeling of WTF when I see wimminz number 45,654,837 exhibiting exactly the same characteristics as all those that went before.

It is not so much that I have problems learning the lesson, more that I have problems accepting that the wimminz will never either learn the lesson or evolve into something more honourable than pond scum.

It is, in short, a never ending source of awe and wonder for me.

Will these worthless cunts truly never learn, will they truly, to the last one, charge at full speed like lemmings into the wall and rebound into the catfood aisle?

Which begs the question, if a dyed in the wool red piller like me has problems truly accepting and internalising it to the point where there is no longer any shadow of WTF at yet another bug trying to fly through the windscreen at 70 mph, how the fuck are the young guys and blue pillers supposed to cope?

Fact is we can’t expect it, we can only hope for the best, while watching the slow motion train wreck, which pretty much depends on young guys NOT getting it until they have been bitten by several scorpions…. it is a fucking harsh reality.

Harsh realities are becoming my speciality lately, fuck it, if Albert E could do them, I think I am entitled.EINSTEIN-ANTI-SEMITISM-QUOTE

I was chatting to a skanky ex last night, somehow we got onto the subject of me meeting Mrs Right…. I told her…

What you wimminz never appear to get, it’s like this, some wimminz sits down at the table and I have to tell her, before she opens her mouth, I have met and known hundreds of wimminz before her, and ultimately they all stung the frog, so the fact is there is sweet fuck all that she can say to me that I have not heard before, so what does that leave as options?

She simply didn’t get it, her only answer is NAWALT, which is exactly what I just said doesn’t fucking exist, or if it does, I have never seen any sign of it, which is the same thing, pink elephant.

*I* didn’t fuck it up for this latest wimminz to sit down at the table, all her sistahs did, and judging solely by my experience to date, they didn’t fuck it up for her either, cos she is just the fucking same.

Tell me why I should take ownership of, or responsibility for, this problem.

Lovely mental image from something posted on another forum.

Your cunt is not a fucking clown car.

I’ll level with you, just for the sake of experimentation, more than fucking once, I have had something steady going where the skank promises me everything, including eternal fidelity and obedience and loyalty, and it’s been OK, and I get this nagging itch, and so I say, just once, “I love you”

Of course I don’t, fact is I don’t even think I know what love is anymore, it’s just three words and eight letters, devoid of meaning.

But, every fucking time I have done it that “relationshit” has self destructed within 7 days, and I have gone from a wimminz who pledged everlasting loyalty and obedience to a wimminz who wouldn’t even respond to a text, blanked, dead, I fell off the face of the earth.

Hello Mr Frog, meet Miss Scorpion.amazon-speed-gun

There is literally no limit to the disparity between what a wimminz will say to you one week, and how she will act the next or previous week in real life, it is beyond fucking bizarre.

How do you convince a young guy that literally every sound that will ever come out of a wimminz mouth, without exception, will sooner or later be proven to have little or no connection to reality.

Actually this also applies to literally every word that ever comes from a wimminz hand too.

So what do you do with scorpions when you are a frog?

Pretty much the only thing you can do that will work is make them property with literally zero rights, but there is fuck all chance of that this side of a total collapse because there is always some niggerz cunt all too willing and eager to drink the wimminz kool aid and listen to what they say, and promise…

Then there is the problem of scorpions playing dress up s frogs, and other frogs trying to make cozy with scorpions, so pretty much all you can ever do is only ever go swimming across that river alone, no exceptions, don’t even go near other frogs.

Now here is a nugget of pure gold and pure truth.

Tell a wimminz about Aesop‘s tale of the Frog and the Scorpion, and what does she see?

It ain’t what YOU see asshole.

She sees two things.

  1. A scorpion who did not die alone
  2. A frog who did not have the chance to go near any other scorpions ever again.

I shit you not.

Why are you acting all surprised, this is EXACTLY in line with how wimminz act in family court when it comes to custody and contact between the kids and the father.

It’s a bit like taking some green recruit fresh out of boot camp and airdropping the poor bastard in the middle of afdiggastan, amongst people who have spent generations growing up and living in circumstances that make boot camp look like all expenses paid disneyland and free hookers too.

Telling him he is hot shit is enemy action.

 

 

December 7, 2013

The Necromoronicon

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 2:43 pm

As Peter Cook said, jokingly, wtf made anyone think whales were intelligent, when was the last time a whale produced a top 10 song.

It got me thinking, or what passes for thinking, about that which must never be mentioned by name… *s*n*t… and in particular alt.binaries.e-books

So, just for shits and giggles, I set newsleecher to download everything from the “dailies” for the last few days, which queued up a total of just over 2,000 e-books.

Once downloaded and imported into Calibre, it was time to clean up the dupes, a few of these were mirror dupes, mainly they were the same book in different formats, anyway, when done, 1,331 unique titles left.

Now go through and select every title with a wimminz author, calibre pops up the book cover so even if the title doesn’t give the content away the cover does, click remove from library.

Down to 358 books

Go through them and see from the cover which ones are clearly written by wimminz using androgynous nom’s de plume, or men’s names, delete

161 books left

delete all the warhammer and star trek crap

122 books left

Nota Bene, these are just BROAD filters, exclusion filters, excluding only wimminz authors, and 100% of their output in fantasy sex shit, utterly opposite from an inclusion filter, such as sci-fi only, ignore everything else.

In this 122 books there is a fairly broad range, tom clancy, feynmann, a little sci fi, a couple of westerns, a couple of crime/detective ones.

But the point is from my random sample of some 2,200+ titles, we are down to 122, which represents about one half of one per cent.

eg 99.5% is chick lit crap.

Now, I’m a reader, not a writer, but let’s take DMJ’s book.

I have not read his book. No particular reason, it falls into the cluster of things I do read, so why haven’t, why, so far, has Broken Roads been that one thing NO retailer can track, the sale that was not made, the lost sale? At least as far as me as a unique potential customer goes.

Number one is I dislike the price disparity, 11 bucks for a hardcopy paperback that is printed and bound and packed and shipped and lands at my door, but 7 bucks for an electronic version that DMJ could have produced himself with Calibre, and yes I understand the vast marketing reach of amazon and resellers margins, but really? 7 fucking bucks for something that has a unit cost of maybe 0.5 cents to process and deliver electronically?

Is DMJ getting the lion’s share of this 7 bucks? I doubt it.

Is the 7/11 bucks ebook/hardcopy price break indicative, eg it costs 0.5 cents to produce and distribute an ebook, and 4 bucks to produce and distribute a paperback? I doubt it.

Number two, again, speaking personally, I got no use for poxy proprietary file formats, nowt wrong with epub, Amazon can kiss my ass with their kindle lock-in, I will either read a ebook with Calibre on my main PC or Moon reader on my Samsung Note 10.1.

Number three, I have nothing against paying for shit that I consume, you can tell from the above that I know how to get pirate copies of anything I want, and yet my PC and Android devices are littered with software and apps and data that I have paid for.

The stuff I have NOT paid for is simply because either;

  1. the pirated shit simply worked better than the paid for shit
  2. the shit itself is worth max maybe 1% of what the seller is demanding
  3. I already paid for that shit five times over (eg music) and to this day you don’t offer that shit to me in a format I want to use
  4. I just wanted to look and play, not keep and use, but you don’t offer a working demo
  5. while I am happy to pay for the shit itself, your insistence that you will bundle it with a bunch of shit I do not want and not give me any option about installing it without that other shit made it a no sale
  6. I’m not prepared to buy your other proprietary device or service (kindle / xbox / ps4) just so I can use this shit.

But I cannot enter into any form of negotiations with you that I could if I was dealing with you face to face over a shop counter, not because electronic trading forbids such things, but because you simply are not interested in selling anything to anyone who does not want it your way, up the ass.

Number four, market dilution, see the above where >99.5% of literary output is wimminz writing shit that frankly, if I tore the pages out and wiped my ass with them, I’d have more shit on my ass than when I started… the ONLY way I know of DMJ’s book is because *******I******* fucking found him and it in my browsing and clicking, so tell me, why should I give one red fucking cent to your marketing machine Amazon? Why should DMJ, for such a putative sale?

In fact, it is the likes of Amazon and the other publishers who diluted the fucking market in the first fucking place…. I should be able to walk into a high street bookshop and ask where the science fiction section is, and when I get there I should be able to find the hard science fiction section…. good luck with that.

If I have to trip over piles of 50 shades on the way in the shop I am not fucking going in.

I don’t mind paying DMJ to read his shit, to me it is the same as buying some beers for the guy jamming down the pub or telling a story over a fire.

I don’t see why I should have to pay Amazon for something they have not done, marketing, as far as my individual potential purchase is concerned.

That is like being in the pub anyway because you were wandering down the street and fancied a pint and spotted a likely looking watering hole, so you walk in and there is this guy jamming with a guitar, and you go up to the barman to get a drink and maybe listen to the guitar guy to see if he is any good, and some cunt in a bow tie walks up and gets in your face and demands a 5 buck entry fee before I can hear any notes guitar guy plays, hey, bow tie cunt says, I’m his fucking agent, I promote his act, fucking pay me.

end of numbers

This ain’t about DMJ or his book, this is about media, distribution, business models, etc etc etc.

When the unit cost of publishing a single book from a single author is measured in cents, or fractions of a cent, and you seek to make money by making trillions of such micro transactions, that what fucks shit up.

It was EXACTLY the same in the early days of the internet, it used to take money and effort to get online, and sure you didn’t like everything you found, but you didn’t find crap because nobody had the resources to upload crap… even when it started to take off as enough of a mainstream thing that there was now a world wide web and a web browser, and therefore potential viewers, you spent a ***LOT*** of fucking time ensuring that NO page on the website was over 50 kilobytes, and the front page better be less than 25 kilobytes, and this was for EVERYTHING, including graphics, check everything for load times over a 9.6 or 11k modem connection, and load processes, ALL the text better load first, while the gfx downloaded line by line as the images appeared like a slowly lowered blind.

The came Assholes On Line and (in the UK) Freeserve, no more cost per minute for the modem connection, and just like the chick lit, it turned to crap, world + dog had websites, contents of my desk drawer in puke technicolor and BLINK and all 230 web safe colours.

It just devalued and buried everything else.

==========================================

we live in a world where you decide to buy a coffee, si you go to starbucks / costa / wtf and who cares it all tastes like shit and the fucking cardboard cup is literally a greater cost to the shop than the coffee / milk / electric to make it.

you know how much the cost is of the chicken in a mcfuckits? 6p per portion, that’s about 10c american, eg it is the cheapest ingredient

you know what the so-called managers in high street retail food chain shops (I mean restaurants here, not walmart) spend most of their time doing? juggling staff and rotas to achieve the industry target of making wages never exceed 40% of the TOTAL costs of that particular outlet.

all of the above are factual by the way, so, back to tracking the sale that was not made for DMJ’s book, in my particular individual case, I’ll buy that fucker when TRUE values are represented, eg Amazon treats it like a loss leader, and go “Hey DMJ, we just sold another copy of your book to some guy called AfOR, here is the 5 bucks he gave us, and here is 6 bucks from us, making a total of 11 bucks for you.

Maybe then I won’t have to download 1,000 books to find 50 that I might possibly read, it’ll be like publishing used to be, you know, in the bad old days when you walked into a bookshop and found it full of Petersen how to books and the latest Larry Niven and Clarke and Dictionaries and Thesaurus and maybe even a Gazetteer or two.

Music is already there, so is video, only video I watch now is fly on the wall shit.

Turn your speakers up. And the sub-bass… To 11

December 6, 2013

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…


Pinky just got kicked to the kerb, FoffI was supposed to be going there to bone it tonight, but despite the lack of a hamster wheel there was no lack of the usual wimminz fare of say one thing, do another, and frankly my life is too short, no matter how good and kinky the sex was, so kerb time it is.

So… sitting here having just discussed it with a couple of the lads down the pub. Nothing of value was lost, because there was nothing of value there anyway, if there was, she would not have said one thing and done another… QED

So… further to a comment one of them made, it’s all about the feelings, and channelling Derek & Clive, you got to have fucking intuition mate, and channelling AfOR (because you almost certainly DO have fucking intuition mate), you got to fucking listen to it.

I had *that* feeling last night, that hard to describe feeling, that combination of being kept in the dark and fed on shit, and knowing something ain’t right, and wondering why you’re the last one at the party to get the joke.

Ask me to explain it, or justify it, or back it up… and I can’t, I can’t give you anything except I had that feeling, and knew it was significant, and recollected other times I had had that feeling.

It’s not a feeling that just applies to your dealings with wimminz…

This guy

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2518874/Father-receives-photo-XBox-One-duped-Ebay.html

He had that feeling, in his own words.. “It came in a brown envelope. When the postman gave it to me I kept asking him if he was sure this package was for me and he kept saying it was.”  he KNEW…

Like I said, justification, explanation, supporting evidence, I can’t give you any of that shit when I get that feeling, all I can tell you is I have that feeling, and that feeling has ALWAYS BEEN FUCKING RIGHT.

A guy asks you “do you think my wife is cheating on me?“.. he already knows the fucking answer, he has that feeling.

Thing is, Pinky that just got kicked to the kerb, she could no more adequately explain her actions and choices than I could explain the feeling, I do not mean I will never know what went on in her head, I mean even if I had a nanosecond by nanosecond replay of whatever did go on in her head, I would be none the wiser… observing the process in her head is as much use as observing the feeling in me.

None.

Every guy I have ever met who gets that feeling starts playing what if scenarios in their heads, looking for an answer or explanation or enlightenment, they will never get it, that urge to look for answers is the “dark side” of that feeling.

If I had listened to the dark side I’d have gone to her place as planned, and maybe been greeted by plod, maybe been greeted by darkness and locked doors, maybe been greeted by who knows what, the dark side of that feeling wants knowledge, explanations, answers, understanding.

With experience, you get like me..

As DMJ says in a current piece, I get that feeling, I go snake eyes, people do what they wanna do, if da bitch wanted me to know where I stood or what the fuck was going on, nothing would have stopped her from making sure I knew… NOTHING…

The very fact that I did not know is the feeling, is the reality, do not be attracted by the dark side Luke, come over here to the light side, go snake eyes with me, turn that car around, drive home, edit your contacts on the phone to move the skank from “current” to “skanks” + “blocked“, turn your back, walk away, she is literally dead to me.

There is no animosity, there is no hate, there is no desire, there is no wanting to know, there is nothing, there is only memory, fun while it lasted.

Past tense.

Move on, chilled, take the opportunity to do something you want, play Skyrim, go down the pub for a pint, walk the dog, anything, as long as you are snake eyes.

Snake eyes, stopped me going to her door, stopped a possible altercation, stopped possible po-lice involvement, stopped me continuing to feel that (unpleasant) feeling, stopped me giving a fuck, stopped me seeing her as anything except past tense.

No good EVER comes from ignoring snake eyes and going to the dark side and embracing that feeling, none, ever, not ever.

DMJ’s article was spot on, snake eyes != (is NOT equal to) Mr Nice Guy

Mr Nice Guy gets fucked over and loses, every time, BECAUSE he is trying to be Mr Nice Guy.

As I discussed elsewhere here, when I was arrested for my alleged FRA from the psycho skank ho ex, the initial reaction was to convince the po-lice that I could not have raped the bitch because I am a nice guy and rape is alien to me, the fact that I didn’t rape the bitch is irrelevant, I wanted the po-lice to SEE that I didn’t, and the only way to prove a negative is to try to make the other guy like you, and to do that you WILL lie…. you will, for example, deny any sex happened, and the DNA will prove you lied about that, and at that point you’re left with admitting you lied about the sex, but maintain you never raped anyone… good fucking luck with that.

Despite the fact that the FACTS are that early this week Pinky wants to spend the rest of her life with me, *some* fucking thing happened while I was 200 miles away, I dunno what and I never will, all I know is I had that feeling and next thing I know I am being blanked.

*IF* I had been dumb-ass Mr nice Guy enough to turn up at her door, and *IF* plod were there, there is no possible thing that I can say to them that will do me any good whatsoever.

Snake eyes, now the FACTS (verifiable by GPS and extensive digital records of texts etc etc etc) are that early this week I was there and everything was perfect, and I ain’t been within 50 miles of there since, and when whatever it was happened in the last 24 hours happened, I still did not go there, and I will never go there again, or attempt to contact her again.

Bottom line, I may well get “that feeling” again, but it won’t be Pinky behind it.

The last ship on that route already sailed.

If I get that feeling again, even if I get it 1,000 times, it will be 1,000 different causes / people, and in 1,000 cases snake eyes will kick in, and in 1,000 cases within 24 hours it will be ancient history… that is a scab I will ***NEVER*** pick at again as long as I live, I just discard it like a lizard losing its tail…. or a turd I send off to the coast with a flush.

Pinky2

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 1:57 pm

Having had a lot or correspondence from guys worried that the pink and the brain thing was a sign of me getting cuntstruck, and thus focusing on some absence of negative aspects of a particular wimminz, and transmogrifying that into thinking there are many positive blue pill aspects to her.

Fear fucking not.

Was never on the cards, but in any event in my experience the moment you say something non-negative about a wimminz, you just made yourself a hostage to fortune and have between 24 and 72 hours before that one comes around and bits you on the ass.

As it was in this case, still no hamster wheel, but that didn’t negate the ability to pull another typical wimminz stunt and act one way while saying another.

I have the attitude nowadays that wimminz be 50 dollar cars, ride em till they crap out on you… sometimes you get one that seems like a real good buy and just keeps on driving, sometimes you comment about that, hey, this one is a diamond in the rough, doesn’t mean you think it is a new car with a no questions asked unlimited mileage parts and labour and loaner warranty.

I ride the tiger as and when I can, while the going is good.

Doesn’t mean I think kitty just got domesticated and would make a good house pet.

Just because I see theoretical potential in some skank, doesn’t mean I buy into it or have forgotten that if wishes were horses nobody would walk.

Yeah, I’d fucking *love* it if it were not so, but it is, and one thing I do know is that there is sweet fuck all that I personally can do to change it.

Just sayin’…

 

December 5, 2013

Pinky + the Brain and AWALT

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 2:17 am

I have thought long and hard about this, because I have a unwritten rule that I don’t write anything uniquely identifiable about myself or others… also… I don’t write anything about those who don’t deserve it.

However.

If this friend reads this, forgive me, nobody else (but me) will know who you are, and I am not talking about you as a person, rather using you as an example of something greater.

I have a friend, they were in a car crash, suffered a head injury, and permanent brain damage. When I say brain damage I am not talking about drooling all day and having to wear adult nappies, I am talking about the brain no longer working as it used to, so think “stroke victim” rather than lobotomy patient.

This friend is female, and yes it is a relationshit friendship not a platonic social friendship, eg we fuck… and no, I’m not fucking a ‘tard, any more than a guy who is blind or lost a limb is somehow unable to consent as well and as fully as the able bodied brother he has.

AWALT, but, without invoking crap like “there is an exception to every rule” and such, what I do find is that the behaviours and responses I have come to know and learn and accept when dealing with wimminz, AWALT, frequently fail to manifest in this person, and interestingly, they fail to manifest coincidentally with manifestations of the brain injury.

The result is that I can have *proper* discussions with this person, I don’t have to watch what I say or how I say it, not that I do anyway, but the lack of the typical wimminz responses means that the conversation does not die then and there, communication continues.

Now, I’m not a stranger to people with TBI, but, in the past it has always been other guys, guys who fell off motorcycles, guys who stopped lead, guys who had accidents at work, but, not being a fag, there was a whole area, namely sex, that I never ventured in to… and in any event, guys ain’t wimminz…

This person is the first wimminz I have known with TBI, and of course there is a *vast* variety in outcomes and symptoms from TBI, so even if I met 999 others they would probably all be different, but, that doesn’t detract from the validity of this particular individual as an observation.

Thing is, I *very* strongly suspect that prior to her TBI, this is not a person I would have wasted any time on, classic strong empowered independent single mom stuff, but one of the classic symptoms of a TBI is trouble with memory, concentration, attention, or thinking, ain’t that they can’t do these things, is that doing these things is *hard* work and requires all their attention.

Result, someone who finds *all* thinking hard and exhausting work, and literally not enough thinking hours in the day to spend any of those mental CPU cycles on spinning up the hamster wheel… result, someone who despite being female, is generally pleasant to be around, and who doesn’t expect me to modify *my* behaviour in *any* way whatsoever, on the contrary, she knows she is brain damaged, and therefore VALUES my behaviour as a reference point, something to cherish, not something to alter.

To give an example, after fucking a regular AWALT wimminz, I may, sometimes, if the mood and the devil takes me, wipe my cock on her curtains, just to see that look on her face…. you know where I am coming from when I say this, I can hear you laughing.

So, I used the word “person” and not the word “wimminz” because it is so *unusual* to get a frown and a small smile and a verbal comment that isn’t really a complaint, it wasn’t taken as one of the male patriarchy disrespecting the pwincesses’ chamber and furnishings, it was taken as a guy being a guy, albeit a not very nice one, and the lack of “seeking conflict” that we would expect from AWALT wimminz (because conflict is also very hard work for her brain) has the result that I now wipe my cock on the duvet, which gets washed anyway, not the curtains, which probably don’t get washed more than 2 or 3 times a year normally.

Now, I don’t want you to get distracted with thoughts that within weeks you are going to see my proclaiming undying love and impending nuptials on this blog, and then she becomes editor in chief.

I’m just trying to highlight the fact that despite apparently being “brain damaged”, it is this very damage which has chronically limited her capacity to spin up the hamster wheel, and the end result is, for me, a somewhat unsettling deviation from the AWALT carrier that we are all used to.

Instead of, as I am used to, being told that she “can match me” or “is as good as me” or “I like a woman with spirit” etc, none of which are even remotely true, I’m presented with with someone who I only had to tell, once, when we first met and fucked, that (if I spend a night in bed with you) I like being woken up every day with a blow-job.

We *did* have a discussion about blow-jobs recently, because she has two styles, one which is intended to make the guy shoot his load, and one which is spending an hour or more just using her mouth and tongue to give sensual pleasure, and during this discussion, in which she indicated that if there were any preferences I had or improvements she could make I should tell her, she stated that she was hoping to maybe figure somewhere in the top 3 blow-job-ettes I had personally known, I went silent thinking about this, she didn’t do anything I expected, just said it’s obvious I’m not that good yet, I have to practice more.

WTF… why can’t all wimminz be like this…

I really, really, really want to stress the point that I don’t want y’all to be sidetracked by thoughts of AfOR walking some skank ho wimminz up the aisle while proclaiming eternal love and here is my wallet and here are my balls, or any of the other predictable shit.

The point is that in this particular case, this particular brain injury, the results have produced something that is by far the mildest case of an AWALT wimminz that I personally have encountered, by far the most *complementary* female I have encountered.

Is she perfect? FUCK NO!!!! She isn’t even good. She doesn’t have anything to offer, even she knows this and will say it.

She has the full compliment of AWALT skank ho check boxes ticked.

The point is, one tiny change, one tiny injury that makes thinking hard work, that makes no brain power left to run the hamster wheel, far from damaging or ruining this creature, it has made her more of a woman than any of her contemporaries, it has made her genuinely pleasant to hang out with, it has made her positive traits more pronounced while neutering the poison in her more negative traits, far from being a disability or an injury, it was a fine swiss finishing school, making the most of what actually was there, even if you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

Until meeting this person, I personally never realised just how huge a part the hamster wheel played in *all* aspects of wimminz’ make up, I thought it was just itself a product of some entitled bitches personality and attitude, take away the hamster wheel and she will still be an unpleasant poisonous bitch, that was how my thinking went.

But no, take away the hamster wheel, and she becomes much more like one of the guys, sure, he has flaws and issues, but mainly he never puts a nanosecond of effort into making his flaws and issues your problem, so you can hang out with the guy and have a good time, call each other ass-holes, mean it, laugh, hang out some more.

I think I am experiencing fag-world, without actually being a fag, I can hang out with something born with a cunt and tits, and fuck it, but without the hamster wheel, so it is as chilled as hanging out with the guys.

It all begs an interesting question, has modern technological civilisation freed up so much previously used female intellectual capacity, that said newly freed capacity, in true devil finds work for idle hands form, was used to spin up the hamster wheel and turn AWALT wimminz into pointless hateful worthless skank ho’s?

If so, if all male newborns are circumcised, then all female newborns should be lobotomised, they’d still prolly grow up to be skank ho’s, but maybe not so psycho, no hamster wheel… yeah yeah, tongue in cheek…

It does however raise an interesting question, and I am fully aware that I put myself firmly in Klaus Barbie territory by voicing it, that it *might* theoretically be possible to replicate, perhaps chemically, this person’s TBI, and see if it had the same effect in other wimminz, does making thinking *hard* work kill the hamster in the wheel?

If it does, then the dumbing down of society and idiocracy may not be such a bad thing, as far as peaceful intersexual relationships are concerned…. with the caveat that “dumb” wimminz still have enough mental ability to run a hamster wheel at a squillion RPM, the secret is making thinking hard work.

Dumb wimminz don’t need to think to survive.

We can thank big daddy guvvmint and the welfare state for that.

I suspect “zero” rights and benefits and protections would serve the equivalent of making thinking hard, you’d have to think constantly, which would be hard.

Because it’s seasonal…

 

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.

lol

 

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: