Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

Was a great song, Tommy Tutone if you don’t remember it.

I appear to be in the habit of playing old songs while driving back from my latest fuck, and of course songs have that ability to transport you backwards in time and space, and sometimes when that happens to you, you also get transported back to an earlier mindset or attitude, and sometimes that earlier attitude and your present attitude sync like an old piston engined bomber’s engines, and thrummmmmm…

When *I* can’t be bothered to fuck you in the morning, turns out it isn’t a symptom that as far as I am concerned you are used up and of no more interest, turns out it is something that sounds very very similar, but which despite the similarity is profoundly different.

You are utterly lacking in all sexual attraction, forever.

Last night was spent with fugly with the 1 face and 8 body and me doing an all nighter, I have fucked her before, and I fucked her last night, harder and dirtier, but this morning? Nothing… no urge…. no desire….. not just not for her, but not even for a wank in her proximity.

So while Tommy was singing “for the price of a dime I can always turn to you” the penny dropped, because it was the 80’s and I was at a fair and some kid in front of me said to some other kid “Let’s split, I already been on all the rides here“, which sums it up, in more ways than one.

The kinky ho’s are more fun than the ho’s who lie and say they ain’t kinky, because the more extreme “rides” are on offer without having to go through any bullshit, and once you’ve been on one roller-coaster you don’t need to ride it again, so you go to the next theme park / skank ho and ride it / her.

Like any ride / coaster, I don’t care how many have ridden it before, or how many will follow me, or what they think of it, to me it is a new ride, and I will drop that dime to ride, and afterwards the coaster / skank ho means as much to me as the dime itself, not the monetary value, that unique individual coin.

You see THAT is the thought that resonated from my past, brought me back to today, and slapped me in the face so that I was aware that this is now my attitude, individual wimminz mean as much to me as individual coins in my pocket.

From where I am sitting I can look outside and see a world, but it is not the world you inhabit, because in my world the current “intrusion” is the wimminz and niggerz wailing because the latest thing is “honour killings” and last night some skank ho was on TV wailing because her skank ho sister poured petrol over herself and lit it, and died of course, because to her sister and this “culture” it was better to be dead than to dishonour the family by divorcing the (inevitably, according to the living sister) allegedly violent and abusive husband…

…and there I was thinking, yeah, I agree, not with you, bitch, but with your dead sister.

but then this is congruent with the world you whores wanted, where your choices are to be either;

1/ some slut I have fucked “all the rides” on.

2/ some slut who I could conceivably fit into my schedule to be a future item #1 if she ain’t no more than a dime’s worth of effort.

3/ every other slut on the planet, ever, both now and into the future.

and if you don’t like that then there is always the gasoline + matches option, perhaps I will toast marshmallows over your pyre while ruminating that AWALT, and corpses don’t count so even some skank who does prefer death to (family) dishonour can only get any credit after the fact of self immolation.

I was called “psychopathic” and “sociopathic” and every other shaming language label you can think of in secret family court, no shred of proof or evidence of course, just “do you still beat your wife“, and none of those allegations or accusations were true.

And then a funny thing happened, monkey see, monkey do, I’m still not xxxpathic, but I sure have learned how to ape it, wimminz, welcome to the world you worked so hard to create, a world in which you mean as much to me as an individual dime in my pocket… and even that only if you can perform some service for me, if you cannot then your worth is that of grains of sand in the Sahara.