Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

October 21, 2013

Flying pigs, part two

In part one I mentioned Calhoun’s mice metropolis experiments, and the point that I kinda thought “everyone knew about this“, until I realised the truth was nearer “nobody under 50 has heard about this“, due to a post on another blog that drew parallels to Calhoun’s “beautiful ones” and the phenomenon which is known in Japan as “grass eaters”

In the mice metropolis experiment, these mice *looked* bloody good physically, but far from preserving themselves in readiness to exploit the die off, they died off too… they couldn’t handle *any* change from the existence they had forged.

The, to me, most important points of Calhoun’s experiment will likely be missed by those it is new to.. so, let me summarise…

  1. Mice heaven was divided into 16 equal segments, and each segment could provide for all the needs of up to 200 mice… for a theoretical maximum of 3,200.
  2. The experiment started with 4 or 6 mice, I forget which now.
  3. Each segment was identical, even down to provision of water and food.
  4. Nevertheless, the peak population never got beyond 2,200
  5. There were ***NO*** survivors of the die off phase.
  6. The population clustered, it didn’t spread out equally across the 16 zones.

point #5 is the one, this wasn’t some theoretical computer based life simulation based on foxes and rabbits etc, and *nobody* in the experiment expected it to end in extinction.

Sadly in 2013 if google hasn’t indexed it, it doesn’t exist, so it is only in my memory, not a link you guys can follow,  that Calhoun said in an interview much later that it was almost like god / dna / darwin was watching, growth expanded to fill most of the space, eventually realised that this was a closed system with no way to breach the boundaries, and so the same grow and expand triggers that made the population squabble, ended up just turning off the lights and going to sleep and never waking again.

In effect, there were not enough possible moves or options left for the mice to evolve, it was a monoculture, and at some point some inbuilt trigger in dna flipped over to extinction.

Not all species that become extinct do so solely because they cannot eat and breed fast enough to overcome predation and environmental changes, many species that should have been able to carry on just quit.

Not enough moves left in the game.

Which makes an interesting thought experiment

If these grass eaters, or “men going ghost” / MGTOW, are a direct analogy to the beautiful mice, then they are not a sign that marxism / feminism has had its day, but that homo sapiens has had its day.

Time for the next evolutionary step.

Homo makemeasammichbitch

The bit everyone forgets from Idiocracy is the obvious fact that if Not Sure hadn’t stopped them from irrigating the crops with Brawndo, everyone would have been dead, pronto, even before the remaining functioning stuff fell into dust and killed them that way.

OK, Earth isn’t a closed system / monoculture, so species extinction, maybe not, species speciation, maybe so, maybe so with bells on.

Maybe we are in the middle of such a speciation right now.

Certainly, as far as I can tell, wimminz and niggerz aren’t actually human, it is far more useful to think of them as some sort of alien body snatcher copies, they just imitate rational thinking beings, rather than having any ability to indulge in individual rational thought themselves.

It is interesting that in sci-fi whenever there is a call for a creature that copies the host organism, said creature always takes on the appearance of a human female… the *only* exception I can think of is an early English sci-fi film in which the creatures took on the appearance of young pre pubescent boys… it ended with a famous scene of the guy imagining a brick wall to avoid thinking about the bomb in the suitcase that would wipe them out.

As we now know, there is at best a vague and passing *positive* link between brain size and complexity, and intellect.

In my travels and in my life I have met some very very important and wealthy and influential people, and with truly rare exceptions I have come away with a profound impression of disturbing levels of stupidity, just a sense of “them and us” that makes any imagined psychopathy in what I wrote above look like a candle next to a bonfire.

To sum up.

I have never taken up the mantle of myself as being a PUA or having mastered game, it just does not sit right with me.

Nor does the whole grass-eater / MGTOW thing

I would caution men who are dissatisfied with the legal and social systems in place today, that MGTOW may not be something to aspire to, it may be nothing more than dropping out and spending your remaining time ensuring that you make a handsome corpse, for about 3 hours until morbidity sets in.

Perhaps, instead, aspire to evolving yourself into a different creature altogether, a shape-shifter that can pretend it is human, but unlike the wimminz and niggerz, the camouflage is not to conceal the lack of a functioning brain, but the presence of a keenly analytical brain.

October 25, 2012

Whores charge, sluts fuck for free, and barn find cunt

The title is something I always repeat to myself like a mantra after pumping and dumping a slut, it is important because you need to reaffirm, not so much what wimminz are, but the categories into which they can be put, at every opportunity.

Someone asked me a while ago, “what’s the best way to ensure a wimminz goes away after you pump her?” and I sort of dismissed the question by saying that that was indeed the 64 thousand dollar question.

But the answer to that question is often very simple indeed;

  1. demonstrate that you can read her like a book
  2. prove this by giving her the best night’s sex she has ever had

Now to a guy you’d think giving a wimminz the best sex she ever had is a pretty much guaranteed to bring her back for more, the next night, and the next night, etc etc

To the wimminz, however, what you have done is the equivalent of visiting the hick in the country and finding the priceless 1922 Bugatti in the barn, wow, suddenly it is a treasure trove.

However, even the most inbred banjo playing red necked motherfucker of a hick, having sold the barn find 1922 Bugatti, does not look at the wreck of the ’47 John Deere model A sitting next to where the Bugatti was, and think that is also worth a million dollars….

To the wimminz however, the old tractor is worth just as much as the old Italian car, after all, both were sitting in her barn, therefore it is her barn that is bestowing the value on these things, not that any of these things might have their own individual and unique value of their own.

So to the wimminz when you gave her the night of best sex she ever had, you showed her the Bugatti in the barn, the barn being her cunt, so now she figures that there is no way you can ever top that, you already showed her the Bugatti, so if there are any more Bugatti’s in that barn, then you are the least likely person on the planet to find them, you peaked.

Instead she will embark on a desperate and frenzied search for lots of other guys, hoping they will also be able to find priceless Bugatti’s in her cunt.

They won’t, of course, they won’t be proving that they can read her like a book by giving her the best night’s sex she ever had, they will be what she had as her staple sexual fare before you found that priceless Bugatti in her cunt.

By then of course, she has lied to you, she told you she was visiting granny’s grave when she was desperately fucking anything that moved, hoping to find another Bugatti, and some part of the bird brain registers the connection between you being able to read her like a cheap trashy book, and your ability to find that Bugatti in her cunt, and the fact that she basically lied to you, thinking she was being sneaky and would be able to find a string of other guys, all of whom could find priceless gems in her cunt, but hell, that didn’t work out so good.

Admit she fucked up and come crawling back to you for more? Get fucking real.

You can read her like a book, remember.

Plus, there is always the problem that you already found the Bugatti in her cunt, and nobody else found anything except some old cum, so maybe there is nothing of value left in her cunt to find, even for someone who can read her like a book like you can, and THAT would be a real downer for her.

Guy’s, being practical creatures, may get item 1 above, read her like a book, easy enough, OK, AWALT, she is a filthy lying skank ho slut, gottit… but item 2, how am I supposed to be the best she ever had?

That’s actually dead easy, and goes hand in hand with her knowing you know item 1 well enough to read her like a book, she only has to believe that she is in for a sexual treat par excellence for it to come true.

This follows on from cock pics, sure there are ways to frame the pic so the same cock looks bigger or smaller, but ideally from cock height, e.g. the height of a wimminz on her knees about to blow you, and from that position, and just off hard enough that it hangs down under gravity, but not cold shower shrunk and limp.

Such a pic is what it is what it is, but enough wimminz will see that pic and decide, irrespective of reality, that you have a big cock, and want to ride it, where size doesn’t necessarily mean physical size, it means desirable size.

So the more she wants your cock the bigger its desirable (as opposed to physical) size, and the bigger its desirable size the more she wants your cock, and the above method of taking a cock pic maximises the cues and triggers for desirable size in what passes for a wimminz brain.

And the more she believes you can read her like a book and will be a sex god, the more she feels like she is being fucked by a sex god, and lo and behold here is a 1922 Bugatti in your cunt, it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy.

She will fulfil her part of the bargain by being your obedient no holes barred I will do anything you want you are the best ever I love you I love you I love you master fuck-slut you could wish for.

Of course, 10 seconds after you part company that is all history, all irrelevant, all the last chapter in her life, all the found but now sold Bugatti, so she needs to find a new one, and a new finder, and absolutely nothing that she said last night is worth a damn thing this morning or ever again.

Learn these things my son, and cunt/cum dumpster diving will never trouble you again…

You KNOW FOR A FACT that the days when that barn / cunt contained ANYTHING of ANY VALUE WHATSOEVER are loooong gone, if indeed they ever existed, and so it stands to reason that if the barn / cunt contains nothing of value, that value judgement must of necessity also be applied to ALL words and ALL actions made by the owner and proprietor of that barn / cunt.

This barn USED to contain a 1922 Bugatti, of course, there ain’t much here now but rat droppings and dead pigeons.” and that is the exceptionally rare and unique ones… most never contained anything of value, and the only intrinsic value they had was way back when they were new and fresh….
…and let’s be honest, that’s pretty much novelty value, because the nature of the beast is that the instant it starts to get used, it becomes used cunt, and then it is just a question of when, not if, it becomes like all the other multi-cock used cunt out there.

Some stupid cunt in Japan paying three quarters of a million to fuck a virgin, I had that for free buddy (and yes, genuine tear the intact hymen teen virgins) and that’s all it’s worth.

Paying three quarters of a million for EXCLUSIVE ACCESS to virgin cunt, that is a different proposition entirely, we used to call that “marriage”, but nowadays it is a contract that cannot be enforced by the buyer.

Demonstrating you can read a skank ho slut like a book, and giving her the best night’s sex she ever had, all for free, and then having her of her own volition bail and dump you the next morning in search of new Bugatti’s, that my friends is fucking priceless.


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