Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

May 12, 2013

Sooner or later…

… wimminz always revert to form.

There is an English comedian called Jack Dee, he specializes in a dry delivery, and 99.9% of his material I can take or leave, but away back when bungee jumping was the new rage and everyone was doing it, Dee made a very funny (to me) comment, it boiled down to “fuck bungee jumping, I wanna see bungee climbing, where they climb as far as they can up a cliff before the elastic yanks them back down.

It made oi larf… indeed.

And I was reminded of it last night, when the latest wimminz, who had been putting on an act of reasonableness and sanity and sexual submission in a bid to ensnare me, reached that point where the tension on the bungee cord exceeded her ability to maintain her grip on the cliff face of the façade she was presenting, and snap, runaway hamster wheel accelerating away at ever increasing RPM towards bursting speed.

The process as usual is characterized by the wimminz reverting to type, and me feeling like a rather stupid and crazy four year old child was trying to manipulate me into doing buying them the ice cream, or whatever it was they wanted.

Of course me asking pointed questions like “What part of this insane behaviour do you think any man anywhere on the planet will look at, and decide he needs more of it in his life?

Of course the “out of control” tantrums are anything but out of control, they may involve risky and stupid and asshole behaviour, but there has been an innate risk assessment performed, so inevitably it looks like what it is, very bad acting indeed.

Of course at this point lots of readers are going all oh noes, wot iz he doing, these wimminz be crazy, why doesn’t he stay away, no cunt is worth it.

Yeah, except these crazy bitches don’t vanish off the face of the planet if you refuse to have anything to do with them, so unless you are going to be  hermit, you are going to have to learn how to deal with them.

There is  world of difference between drawing a line and saying at THIS point I am no longer a participant bitch, just a fucking observer, and being INVOLVED, and it is the being INVOLVED that the above lunatic behaviour is, by some fruity wimminz logic, supposed to trick you into…

Think of a vehicle with a diesel engine starting to eat it’s own lube oil and run away…

Those who are INVOLVED in that vehicle stand waaaay too fucking close, and put themselves in harms way attempting to interfere and change the outcome, while those who are merely OBSERVERS distance themselves and digitally record.

So the bitch’s hamster wheel revs up to eeeek speed, and she plays the “you don’t want me to stay / appreciate me / look after me / love me” card, instead of saying “No baby please stay and I’ll make it up to you” I just give the shrug and say she is an adult, if she wants to go, go…

Bluff called she goes, only to engineer a reason to come back 10 minutes later, but of course, being a wimminz, this isn’t coming back calmed down and lesson learned, oh no, it is coming back doubled down on the crazy shit.

So I stand in the doorway and shrug again and ask her why she thinks any man in his right mind would let some crazy acting bitch into his home, this is of course met with disbelief, I am sooooo NOT responding the way all “good men” have been trained to respond to a pwincess in a tantrum, so she stomps off again, in even greater disbelief that I will not wescue da pwincess from a situation entirely of her own making.

“You are an adult, you are capable of making your own decisions, and suffering the consequences, if you choose to act like an insane bitch, it is your decision”

So she stomps off, proceeds to ring me every ten minutes for the next hour and a half, no worries it all goes to answerphone and when a sufficient quantity of calls have been received the number gets added to the reject list.

I chill some, get in to bed and sleep the night through, untroubled by dreams or drama or conscience.

The moral of this story, she was on a bloody good deal with me, but instead of seeing all the good bits, all she could see were the missing bits, so she focused on them, and kept doubling down in an attempt to manipulate me into doing them, result, she is back to no man, minus all the bloody good deal stuff she was getting,  and I didn’t lose a moment’s sleep over her transition from current squeeze to history.

Impatience, an inability to sustain the course or play the long term game.

This is what wimminz ARE

This is why you don’t let them in to your lives, you don’t introduce them to your circle of friends, you don’t tell them who your employer is, you don’t tell them your personal history, you don’t introduce them to your own family… these things by definition make you INVOLVED, not an OBSERVER.

This is why you pay no heed whatsoever to all the stuff people look at, she is old enough to have learned these lessons, all that jazz, wimminz are NEVER old enough to learn any lessons.

AWALT motherfucker, everything else is just a fucking act.

If people wanna go bungee climbing, fine, they are adults, their decision, just DO NOT GET INVOLVED.

You can fuck people without getting involved.


You can’t fuck someone and then do the insane pwincess, wescue poor widdle owd me, stunt with someone you are INVOLVED with.

You can’t make false accusations of rape and domestic violence against people you are INVOLVED with.

You can’t bail out of marriages and take people to the cleaners that you are INVOLVED with.

Sooner or later, ALL wimminz will pull this shit on you, and there is a 99.999% chance that it will happen right after you (accidentally) do something reasonable and treat them like a rational human being with feelings, and not a feral wild animal, and they will pull the epic shit test on your ass, as this psycho skank ho did to me last night.

I’m sorry (no, I’m not), you appear to have confused me with someone who gives a fuck whether I ever see you again or not…

She got it, you know, she really did get it, in the end there when the shit test failed epically and the tension in the bungee cord had just snatched her away from the cliff face, in that Wile E Coyote moment..

She said I was a stone cold bastard with zero feelings for anyone and an empty space where my heart should be.

Yeah, whatever, bitch…. I’d consider that high praise indeed, if it had come from someone I could respect.

Sooner or later… it’s not a lesson you can unlearn, thank fuck.

January 21, 2013

Fucking Crazy

I was, last night, fucking a crazy that is… comes from the school of do as I say, not as I do, I guess, but anyway, there I was, fucking this self confessed crazy bitch who fried her brain’s biochemistry years ago on ganja.

OK, I wanted a fuck, but really the reason was this, when I started talking to her she reminded me of a crazy chick I knew and fucked in around 1980, bitch would go moo and maa and all that shit and smoke some grass and then take a handful of mogadon, and then we would get it on, crazy bitch but an interesting fuck.as

So I took it in my head to do some brideshead revisited and fuck a similar ish crazy bitch 30 years later in real time, but 20 years later in crazy bitch time, as this one was 40 and had been hitting the pills for 20 years.

Shit that amused me back then was frankly boring as fuck when it came out of this bitch’s mouth, heard one delusion / psychosis heard em all, heard on tale of infantile sexual abuse heard em all, heard one vile attempt at poetry heard em all, heard one the aliens mind control nazis po-lice and coming to get me heard em all…

… and so it was that at 11 pm when I had finished plundering all her holes and dumping my cum, I did the whole make me a coffe bitch thing and got dressed, and set my phone to do the Fake Call Me thing in five minutes, drink my coffee, phone goes off so I give her the whole Babe-I-gotta-go-the-mothership-is-calling-we-are-moving-the-invasion-date-up thing and get the fuck out.

And so it is that as midnight strikes I am sitting in my warm german mothership listening to the muted beat of the straight six diesel at 2500 RPM on roads largely deserted because of the ice and snow, reflecting on the passage of 20 years of self medication on crazy bitches, and brothers, there are a lot of them out there..

And I move on to the other bitches on the production line and realise I have done it again, I have reached that stage beyond asshole game and arrogant asshole game and extreme asshole game and gotten to “meh” game, that cycle where my desire for new cunt is sub-zero, and any amount of pleasure extracted from dumping my cum is always exceeded by my distaste for the bitch involved.

As the miles hum by I come to realise something, the end of 2012 and the beginning of 2013 has seen a startling shift in wimminz, and I was too close to the cunt to see the trees.

Bitches are starting to get desperate and scared… it’s the fucking swansong and they know it.

In the last six months bitches have NO money, stories I have seen and heard, interest only mortgage (by definition, NONE of the capital paid off) with a year to run and ZERO possibility of a re-mortgage, bitches have to choose between buying food or buying heating oil, bitches have to choose between buying food or putting fuel in the car to come see me and get fucked, bitches being told their jobs are at risk, and they realise they have no savings and debt falling out of their asses, bitches considering getting back with their ex’s, because the ex is still working and has money, bitches who are accumulating broken appliances around the house, because they have to money to repair or replace, and so, in short, bitches who are getting more desperate and ironically MORE demanding, they less they have to offer and the greater their need.

Take back the night and take back the streets, the bitches are getting scared, because they can walk through the city in the day time in a week day and see less people about, less shoppers, very few people carrying bags from shops, and they are starting to feel alone and vulnerable, not a part of the crowd.

The city I was in last night fucking crazy is known for being an an area that paradoxically lost most of the native industry and so is poor, but also had a shitload of development money thrown at it, so there are gleaming new city centres and white elephant buildings, and out in the burbs it is all mass unemployment and petty crime and drugs.

The younger wimminz, in their twenties, can trade cunt for drugs, the older wimminz hand over their cash cards to the dealers who go to the hole in the wall every week and draw out the monies paid in by the state for child benefit and then hand over the dope.

Wimminz who fuck up have cash bounties put on their heads for s severe beating, and even I raised my eyebrows at the prices, spoke to one chick living in fear, she knew who put the bounty on her, and she knew it was £100, but she can’t even earn that sort of money on her back, not even at £10 a time because it is all she can do to get one guy to pay £10 to fuck her, mark to market economics at its best…. fuck me back in 1980 it was 50 quid for a good beating, and 50 quid in 1980 is worth at least 500 today.

I drove into the place at around seven pm, and from the motorway exit to the bitch’s flat I did not see one single pub or shop open, most of what I did see was not merely shut, but boarded up…. times are hard when not even the paki’s will move in and open a corner shop, and not even the chinks will move in and open a takeaway…

…and this isn’t even a sinkhole estate, this was a *good* area of the city in question…

To be honest this was largely why I decided it was time to do some fucking crazy, she lived in a city I hadn’t been to for a while and it was an excuse to go there and drive through it, thinking when she opens the door I can always decide no way and walk away, but when she opened the door it wasn’t that bad so I stayed and fucked it and got distracted from my alternate purpose by her crazy.

I’m glad I did, because otherwise the local picture is the only one you see, and you can end up with confirmation bias.

I’m also glad I did because fucking crazy was enough to tip me over the edge and complete another cycle of fuck / don’t fuck.

I’m also glad I did because the serenity of cruising back along deserted highways in the mothership gave me time to think and realise that lately the wimminz have been getting desperate and nastier with it.

I’m glad I did because all these things are feedback loops, they all play a part in my losing interest in fucking bitches for a while, and my losing interest in fucking bitches for a while allows me to see all these things a little more clearly than when dumping some cum is on the agenda.

As an interesting anecdote, fucking crazy is also convinced that 2013 is when it starts to go bad for real.

Fucking crazy reminded me of an old story, allegedly true. (this is from before the days of mobile phones and breakdown cover)

Guy is driving along a road in the country, and THUMP, gets out and finds one wheel has fallen off his car, the wheel is easy enough to retrieve, but of course the 4 wheel nuts are all long gone.

Guy starts cursing and kicking the shit out of the wheel in question, when he hears giggling behind him.

Guy looks around and sees a brick wall “St Eustatic Mental Hospital” on a sign, and this fella leaning on the wall.

Fella leaning on the wall says “HI, I’m a patient here, got a cigarette

Guy thinks what the fuck, could do with a smoke myself to calm down, so pulls out the smokes, hands one to the fella and lights both up.

Fella says “Why don’t you take one wheel nut of each of the other three wheels, and use those three nuts to attach that wheel?

Guy is impressed at this, and says so.

Fella says “Listen mate, I’m fucking crazy, not stupid.


January 4, 2013

It’s a jungle out there

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 27, 2012

New Year’s Reolutions in hi-def

“My mother made me a homosexual!”

“If I sent her the material, would she make me one too?”

and so I find myself looking at what I am, and wondering if I would have made me like this, I doubt it, because it isn’t very nice, but on the other hand as a design adapted to the environment and stimulus around me, I can’t really fault it…

…since it is that time of year for photos of the year past etc, I’d have to pick something abandoned as a picture of myself, maybe Baikonur cosmodrome, but maybe just an abandoned whaling station or old hard rock mine…

… I don’t mean one of those cavernous empty spaces where everything was pulled out and sold for scrap, I mean those places where the receivers came in one day and everyone just put their tools down and walked away and haven’t been back since.

I have a workshop out back with all the usual stuff, welders and compressors and air tools and paint equipment and bench power supplies and oscilloscope and a lathe and cnc mill and so on…. in the past year I’ve used the milling machine once and a few of the spanners and hand tools, everything else hasn’t been touched…. I have to question the purpose of it all.

To be sure, the capacity and capability is there, but the drive just isn’t, and my main reason for not saying fuckit and ebaying everything is I still have a sense of identity tied up with it, I still see myself as an engineer, and an engineer without tools is like a man without a cock and balls… there is a difference between not being able to fuck and not wanting to fuck….

The indolent, sedentary and reclusive lifestyle of MGTOW is attractive, so attractive it is very easy to get totally into it, and end up doing sweet fuck all with your days, day after day… and while this can be a good thing, not working for the man or the wimminz, it can also be a bad thing, not staying healthy, not staying fit, not staying active.

On the other hand, I am in a minimum energy transfer orbit from here to there, everything is shut down to minimum, even my activity, I am in many ways like the tools in the workshop, the old 10 MHz Hitachi oscilloscope may be junk by modern standards, but it works, and if you ***need*** a scope chances are 1 MHz is way more than enough, and suddenly the old Hitachi is worth its weight in gold.

I could go through the entire workshop like this, it is as far away from the dream tech palaces that you can see on the telly with the bad ass chopper builders vs bad ass hot rod builders type programs as you can get, it is all old and obsolete crap, and more than that PORTABLE crap.

So my old lathe only has a 4.5″ swing over the bed, but it is rigid and has 3 and 4 jaw chucks and screwcutting / power feed and a VFD drive, and the old mill only has a horsepower at the spindle and 2,500 RPM at that and only a 12″ x 3″ and 3″ working envelope in XYZ, but, it is surprising what can be done with that if push comes to shove.

And that is why it, and I, have sat idle, push hasn’t come to shove, I’m still in that minimum energy transfer orbit, which is nothing if not minimising burn rate and maximising remaining resources and ability, when I eventually arrive wherever it is I am going, or if I never get there, prolonging survivability.

My resolutions for 2013 are pretty much getting the motorsickle back on the road, I already did a lot of the hard work back along the way before I lost interest when my FRA hit the fan, lot of powder-coating, new wheel and steering head bearings, new tyres, skimmed disks and rebuilt brakes, only really a complete re-wire and some paint and tidying up to do, new chain and lights etc….  and try to get some more work on the black economy, and… that’s about it….

Back in 1974, which is the first time I can CONSCIOUSLY remember seriously thinking about my own personal future in some detail, I will admit I never got much beyond the year 2000 in my future gazing, that was a big enough stretch, and it probably included a fucking flying car… but, I’m sure I’d have been secretly pleased to know that there was a one off truly hand built (nobody can even identify the engine maker, much less the motorsickle maker on my bike) bike in my workshop, even if the fucker wasn’t running.

I’m sure I would also have been pleased that I was still listening to good music, and that I had worked my way through a ton of cunt.

I would not have been pleased at the idea that I was economically inactive, and I would have found it hard to credit that I was short of money, or back in the UK living like a hermit.

The electronic and computer revolution was simply not on the radar, a personal spaceship was a simpler thought than a personal computer, and my handheld smartphone that does fucking everything including location fixing…. shit….my dad grew up in the UK with no fucking running water…

Since I could never have predicted back then that I and the world would be where we are now, one thing I have learned is the futility of sitting here now and trying to predict where we will be in the year 2030…  2015 is only two years away and it’s a real push, except I can see the wheels falling off the wagon already.

So, getting my motorsickle back on the road, keeping my head below the fucking parapet, and emptying my balls now and again into some skank, that’s it for my predictions and resolutions for 2012, so as far as resolutions go they aren’t exactly 4k hi-def 32 bit colour

May your 2013 be as free from interesting moments as I hope mine will be.

I don’t actually believe that though, the economic reset has to hit, and if it does fixing up my motorsickle may become the last of my priorities, or, it may become the only thing that matters…

… that’s the only problem with minimum transfer orbits, you’re committed to a destination, and you have to get there safely and stock up again before you can embark on another excursion, I’m going to enjoy the relative tranquillity of this excursion while I can, I probably won’t get another one… none of us will…. meantime all I can do is continue to imitate a boring rock that is not on a collision course, such a low priority I fall off everyone’s radar, fuck it, not like I have a choice.

April 27, 2012

inch by eights

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 12:11 pm

Inch by eight in brass countersunk head was perhaps the commonest brass wood screw made, certainly there were very few things that you could make, from a yacht to a table, that did not involve using them.

Inch by eights used to be bought by the pound, or if you were on the continent by the half kilo.

I just saw a box of them for THIRTY FUCKING FOUR UK POUNDS STERLING, so intrigued I go online and the cheapest I could READILY find were £4.74 excluding 20% VAT and shipping per 100, and of course who knows where they were made, what grade or quality of brass etc.

This free wordpress does not allow the uploading of video, if it did instead of just watching yesterday I would have videoed my lathe running at a very sedate 300 RPM and the very special sound of a nice sharp and well profiled cutting tool skimming the surface of some 2″ diameter aluminium bar in an old fashioned and rigid lathe.

While I was watching it, and sipping my coffee, and I will admit craving a smoke, for it was at such times that I used to smoke… lol… it occurred to me, no wimminz has ever “got” the sound or feel or smell or look or process of a lathe or mill making a nice cut and changing one thing into another.

They just don’t “commune” with it like a man or boy will.

Same with coffee, they just don’t get a good coffee being poured slowly over a full brown cane sugar, or the makings of the same, all the wimminz just want a one button latte machine, they aren’t into the process itself.

While not a religious person, I am quite happy to grab bits of any philosophy that suits me, so one of the things I grabbed from Zen / Buddhism many moons ago was the idea of each day doing at least one thing very slowly, and savouring it.

I could have spun the VFD up and spun the lathe spindle at 3,000 RPM and done the job in a tenth of the time…. in the same way that I could have bought a one button coffee maker instead of my old German do everything manually job, or I could just stick with instant.. lol

Same with smoking, I always used to hand roll, and it is the hand rolling that I miss as much as anything, or maybe that is the old addiction pathways talking, but I did enjoy rolling…

But getting back to the inch by eights, I remember an apprentice in a foreign port (that happened to be where I was living at the time) being sent ashore for a few kilos of inch by eights, and returning with the tale that there were none to be had, and subsequent conniption fit by the shipwright, which included the words “…not fucking possible…” and “…commonest woodscrew on the fucking planet….”

Except fast forwards 20 years and come and live in this city, and I know two places where you can walk in and walk out again with inch by eights, and only because I live here AND come from a trade background… they are not in Google, you either know or you don’t… and most of the time what you know is that the last supplier shut up shop a decade ago.

Same thing for this city goes for non ferrous metals, the last supplier / vendor closed 10 years ago….same thing for car radiator repairs, car paint mixed on demand, I could go on and on.

That old shipwright would never have believed it, that you can go to a City and find it almost impossible to find any inch by eights in brass, and even then a few pounds is their TOTAL stock so good luck asking for seven pounds of screws.

This is but another side effect of the feminazi mangina niggerz and wimminz world we live in where everything male was reviled and derided… I stand in my workshop looking at my old English lathe and milling machine (and other tools) which I converted myself to CNC yonks ago complete with 5 micron glass scales and DRO etc, and wonder if I should sell, after all they are worth more money now than they have ever been and are huge and awkward to move and house, and being realistic just how much actual use do either of these machines actually get?

And then a day like yesterday comes and I listen to some metal cutting, and I don’t even care that I can just walk out and do a job like that on demand.

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