Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

Everything is a finite resource, as the wimminz are finding out, the amount of chivalry, or willingness to eat shit, in John Brown, Jon Doe, Joe Public et al is also finite.

Once that reserve is used up, as far as the wimminz and niggerz be concerned, you might as well be mouldering in the grave, they have no use for anything or anyone that they have to use for, if it has no utility to them, they discard it as so much crap.

I want to divert you from this for a moment, think of all the zombie movies you have ever seen, and all the zombie books you have ever read.

In the REAL WORLD, if some zombie plague ran riot and converted 99% of the population into the walking dead, you wouldn’t need to shoot the in the head to destroy them, all you have to do is wait 72 hours for the flies to have landed and the first eggs to have hatched, and the maggots to crawl out.

In cinematic horror terms, the walking dead would be far more horrific than rent open bodies, blood stained clothes and a blue complexion, they would be crawling with maggots too.

In the real world in another 168 hours, no matter how hale are hearty they were before being zombified, the maggots would have eaten enough connective tissue for the zombie to be rendered immobile, another 144 hours would see them reduced to bone, cartilage and hair.

It is both a testament to, and an indictment of, western civilisation that 99.99% of people are so far removed from fundamental biological principles that they do not understand that only ongoing life holds the corruption of death at bay.

Frankly, the maggots don’t give a fuck what your beliefs were before you became zombified, what sex you were, what your politics were, what station you held in life, to them all flesh is grass and they are there to graze.

Burying our dead in boxes, or setting fire to them, and buying our meat in shrinkwrap or tins, and having weekly refuse collections and sewerage systems, has hidden all this from most of us.

But it doesn’t make it go away, it just hides it from public view, security theatre at its finest.

Similarly, things like PoF that extend a wimminz ability to effectively put an interested male on hold, while sampling some of the other interested males, does nothing to change a man’s innate biological programming.

Putting a man on hold is like refusing to put more than 5c on a bet with that individual man that you and he have ANY kind of future together, it created an instant biochemical change, that man will never, ever, ever play “all or nothing” with you ever again, no matter how long you may live, no matter how long you have a hole in your ass.

He may indeed play with you again at some point in the future, but not with his whole wallet on the table, and not for keeps, just for fun and shits and giggles.

Just as it is in the nature of the maggot to put its entire life into eating THIS meal, irrespective of the quality, it is in the nature of a man to play all or nothing and to commit totally to his first woman, his first born, his first car or motorcycle, and when those things are taken away, to indulge in nostalgia.

Not for the love, or the innocence, or the wasted years, or the possibilities, or any of the other things the wimminz or niggerz assume, but for the simplicity and purity of being in a place where you GENUINELY looked forward with you entire being and saw nothing more than putting your entire life into eating THIS meal, and being eminently satisfied with that.

I have over the years ridden just about every motorcycle ever made, over vast distances and many national and cultural borders, and while I might smile at the thought of being born on a a Harley (and whenever we say that, we mean a particular model, and specific individual bike) the fact is I would have been quite happy to settle for my first bike that I owned myself, a BSA A10, and still be riding it, and to have never ridden another bike.

When I look back in “nostalgia” at my old A10 and the adventures we had, I’m not blind to the fact that I have ridden much better bikes, in any way that you care to characterise “better”, but the fact is I would have been CONTENT to stick with the A10, and forsake all others.

It is that ability to be content that I mourned with nostalgia for many years, not the A10, and it is only now, 35+ years later, that I have again reached a place where I am content to keep my current bike, and never ride anything else ever again.

I have rediscovered my ability to be content, and I have done so by rejecting all of those who would take away the meal before me at a whim, all those would would place me on hold, in all walks of life, not merely wimminz and niggerz.

You get ONE FUCKING CHANCE to take my call, and hang up all other calls and call waitings, and deal with me exclusively, and this very INSTANT you fail to do that, well fuck you and this meal you claim to be setting before me, AND EVERYTHING ELSE YOU CLAIM TO OFFER ME IN THE FUTURE.

If you are not prepared to make me your priority, then you have absolutely nothing I am interested in, to me you are just a meal for other less fussy maggots.

You are the walking dead zombie emperor, not only do you have no clothes, the fine raiment you think you wear is nothing more than a coat of maggots, consuming your dead flesh.

Soon enough, you too will be mouldering in the grave, along with everything you did, everything you claimed to believe in, everything you were, everything your could have been.

There will be nobody to mourn you, not even the flies and worms and bacteria that made you their last meal.

Go on to PoF and ask where have all the good men gone, announce that you are looking for your soul mate, and understand that what we actually hear is “Where have all the good maggots gone?” and “I want my soul maggot!”

A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle, or like a zombie apocalypse film needs maggots to cure the problem in less than a fortnight, it is the “uncanny valley” of feminazism, the gulf that cannot be crossed, and the only tool in the box to counter this is the suspension of disbelief….

…. rather like the unaired pilot for the 2000 remake of The Time Tunnel, in which our wimpy male hero is accompanied by Mr Steroid Abuse, and two wimminz, one white and one black, one kick-ass and one super smart, and they all don GI rags and transport themselves back to the World War 2 trenches in France, and not only do the two chicks rock, none of the 1943 GI grunts in the trenches even notices two wimminz in tailored fatigues…

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I will close with a word or warning for those who place their trusts and hopes for the future in “Market forces“…

My current / final motorcycle, nobody know what it is, even what make it is, it has been altered to such an extent that even older bikes wander up and say “Is that a xxx?” when looking at the engine, and even then they are not sure, because so many alterations have been made (and no, there are no telltale badges or embossed castings left)

It does not have indicator lamps, it does not need them, like everything else (including the pillion seat) extra to the basic premise has been removed, everything else has been altered and evolved.

I mention indicators for a specific reason, yesterday I drove an absolute top of the range top spec german automobile, it didn’t have any “lamps” at all, in the filament sense.

Back in the day a turn signal was a clear 12 V lamp with a 4/5 watt filament housed in an amber lens, 4 watts at 12 volts DC is 1/3rd of an ampere… one turn lamp and the front and one turn lamp at the rear draws 2/3rd of an ampere, so the “indicator” circuit only needed a switch, and a can containing a bimetallic strip that was heated enough by 2/3rd of an amp to break the circuit, on / off / on / off every second or so.

Das new kraut auto had no lamps, in the filament sense, everything was LED’s

Suddenly you can’t use the mechanical properties of a bimetallic strip passing current to make your blinkers blink, so you have to make up a PCB, presumably based somewhere on a 555 timer circuit and an oscillator.

Now, electronics CAN be made as rugged and long lasting as anything mechanical, but that costs money, and this is where your “market forces” come into play… so shave 5 cents off here, 10 there, 15 there…

Which is why the top of the range all the extras brand spanking new german luxury limo had non functioning indicators, and instead of popping into an auto factor to buy a replacement generic bulb, or a replacement generic “indicator flasher” can, the on board computer told the new owner to take the car to the authorised dealer for a repair….

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