Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

Time is a funny fucking thing, especially when looking back upon it in your own personal life and history.

I cannot, with any shred of honesty, look back on myself at 25 and state that I was the same person I was then, and when I was 50… to be sure I can say I aged pretty fucking well, despite all the lifestyle, and I can in many ways favourably compare myself with a modern 25 year old in 2012, but, there are still huge differences.

Some things in life fluctuate over time, such as the age at which a child becomes an adult, and the age at which an adult retires, and one of the walls you hit is the one that states if you have a kid NOW, you will be a fucking pensioner before that kid is an adult.

Other things you become aware of is the realisation that murderers get separated from their family and society for a shorter period of time than young kids in an acrimonious separation / divorce, and whatever the future holds for those kids no-one can put time back in the bottle and give them the childhood they deserved, complete with both sets of parents and extended families.

One of the conversations that I keep having with young wimminz is the conversation about actions having future consequences, usually utterly predictable ones, and having to carry forwards the burden of whatever actions and choices you made in the past.

Wimminz are SPECTACULARLY crap at this, I will relate a story about a young wimminz who with toddler age kids who ends up with videos of her being gang-banged all over the internet, and the wimminz go all oh noes, but until I mention that in 10 years time those toddlers are going to be in school with the 2022 smart-phone and one of their classmates is going to walk up in the playground and show them videos of mummy being gang-banged… then the wimminz get SCARED… but until I mentioned it, it never occurred to them.

I had a chat with a young lad in his twenties last week, I used to roll with what he now calls the grey-beards, legends of old and 1% ers through and through, and I kept saying the same thing to him, things were different man.

And I find myself like some cross between Hunter and Hopper, a modern Mephistopheles who was lucky enough often enough to walk away unscarred and unscathed, trying to impart words of wisdom to the young buck, who is all “Wow, you were THERE for that legendary event” and far too fucking eager to cut me slack I do not deserve.

We’re sat there at the table, smokes and phones and keys and coffee.

I say to him “You know the old adage about there being no such thing as an unloaded gun?” He says yes, but I stress the point as he has little hands on experience, there ain’t no such animal as an unloaded gun.

He’s up to speed on that one so I reach out and tap one of the smartphones on the table and say “There ain’t no such thing as a digital device that ain’t recording”

I wait for that to sink in and add, “and that includes the digital devices you can’t see.”

That sinks in for a minute or two and I go all Hunter / Hopper on him again.

“This is the digital age man, this shit is everywhere, so common it is invisible, but it is there…” I take a sip of coffee and refer him back to some of those “you were there!” legends, and hit him with “… and I wouldn’t be fucking sat here now, if this digital shit was around back then… dig?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, the penny is dropping.

We only got away with that shit because it was organic, analogue and hand written or hand types paper records and hand filing, no instant recall or access to anything, a record search meant someone going into a cellar and going through boxes of paper files, by hand.

Back then I knew a guy who used to forge post office savings books, deposits and withdrawals and remaining balances were written by hand into a book, and then stamped, and this guy had some artistic talent and used a socket set to make the concentric rings of the stamp, forge a £5k balance, which was a lot of money back then, and go into a post office (not the same one where the deposits were allegedly made) in overalls and draw £300 a day and talk to the cashier about just having moved house and doing a mountain of renovations..

How far would that shit fly in the digital age?

Computer says you have no money.

And this applies across the fucking board.

Cut’s both ways too bro, if you were smart or lucky or crooked enough to get files altered during the transition to the digital age you were golden.

Computer says you have no history of violence.

Just as bad is when the computer records are fucked the other way.

Computer says you have a history of sexual abuse and domestic violence.

I tap the fucking smartphone again, say “Digital age” again, and look at one of the skanks there, and say “If you had been recording that night last week, instead of complaining to me about being assaulted, which frankly you bear 95% of the responsibility for creating the situation where it happened, Mr X would now be in prison on remand awaiting trial and guaranteed conviction and prison time for sexual assault”  Which would be wrong, because the whole truth is that everyone involves was drunk as a skunk and what’s more were all scum. Just because the guy was born with a penis however he would take the fall.

The digital age man, edited sections of a story are even more powerful than listening to or watching the whole tape…

So, back to the subject in question, and the two wimminz there who are available for pump and dump, but who want more from me.

The edited sections of the story that portray you as a decent young wimminz only work in scenarios where the man doesn’t give a fuck about the story, because you are pump and dump material.

The whole story is another matter, the whole story is what eventually comes out when you spend enough time with someone, and if the whole story involves you being pump and dump material in the past, no way you can expect the current man to see you as anything else.

Changing the story doesn’t change the person.

Just as the only way you get to hear about any legendary stuff we pulled back in the seventies is to listen to one of the greybeards, because that wasn’t a digital age.

It also means that very, very, very few of those stories could even happen today, and if they did, we wouldn’t be sat here grinning and shooting the shit.

It also means that the shit you DO pull today is gonna follow you around forever, for values of forever that fall short of mushroom clouds over what were once google data centres.

Not only can you not wind back the clock, you also can’t get away from digital surveillance and recording, and those data points never fade… what I typed in to a web forum in 2002 is as fresh as what I typed here a decade later in 2012.

The Jimmy Saville story isn’t really a story about privilege and fame and groupies and sexual exploitation, JS lived his life like groundhog day, HE never changed, it is really a story about how the changing technology changes the landscape.

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