Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

“I’m late and it’s worrying me”

“So take the morning after pill bitchez, not interested, not my problem, now, are you going to bounce up and down on my cock or what…”

This is one reality, once you wise up and reject the fiat currency capitalism and work ethic, you render yourself legally and financially immune to the whole child support racket… hell, I have a very good friend, a fellow FRA victim, who said fuck it and goes to the doctor once every three months to get a sick note for stress and anxiety caused by the FRA, he’s been doing it four, getting on five years now, living off the state, doesn’t work a lick, he says his is the only sane response to a state that amongst other things punishes men and fathers and rewards FRA’s and skank ho single mommies.

Here in Cornholeville, if you know where to look, you can tell that despite all the bluster and bullshit the ill winds of financial collapse are finally making themselves felt at the highest levels of the local state teat, the council and councillors.

Naturally with all these people the response is the same, shades of the two leased german executive saloons on the driveway being the last thing to go, while the fridge is empty, have to keep up the appearances of success at all costs.

And so it is that all the high profile very visible and very expensive stuff is all ring-fenced and untouchable, while on my regular evening drive to visit and check on an elderly relative what I first assumed was a dead street light has evolved into patches of urban darkness, the street lights near shops and junctions remain on, the other are going dark as early as 6pm

To be sure, each 400 watt sodium light turned off is a saving of say ten hours @ 400 watts = 4 kWh of electricity, which at current domestic prices = 4 x 14 = £0.56p

From the Cornholeville PR blurb about this, we have some 72,000 street lights costing some £3 million in electric every year, so perhaps a 10% reduction in this is £300k per year…. these are best case scenario numbers.

At £2 million a year each, the police helicopter would make a far greater saving, you just don’t need a fucking helicopter to catch burglars and twocers, it is a fucking scandalously profligate waste of resources.

You can ALWAYS do this, create a list of the shit that REALLY matters, road surfaces, signs, and furniture in good order, regular rubbish collection, maintenance of public lands and pathways, enforcement of local civil and planning regulations, some basic public services such as a library and you’re good to go, not much else that is important to the community, and lo and behold you just accounted for a 5% slice of the pie chart of local government expenditure, assuming you are allowed to see the actual figures that is….

The other 95%, that’s all shit, ring-fenced shit.

Wimminz be like this, tell em something has to give and they always start looking at the 5% of basic essential stuff, while the 95% of non-essential bullshit is ringfenced and simply not up for negotiation.

For X amount of money I can either go out and buy an iPhone5, or a separate washing machine and tumble dryer, hell, I can walk into my local bike shop and buy a brand new 2013 Triumph Bonneville (assuming I was daft enough to want one) for £99 a month, I know one wimminz paying that for a fucking Sky subscription, and another wimminz paying that for an iPhone5 + iPad on network subscription….

My washing machine and tumble dryer means all my clothes and bedding and towels and everything are always clean and fresh and dry, it has UTILITY.

For all its faults, a new bonnie would make me mobile and give me transport and allow me to commute Auf Viedersehn Pet style from the UK to Germany Monday to Friday to work, it has UTILITY.

To be fair, these are tough choices in some ways, I can sit at home with clean and dry clothes and a bonnie to get me to work, and no toys to entertain me or distract me or pass the time, but nevertheless this is life, you have to make choices, and the choices are not always as easy as these, and the future consequences not as easy to predict.

I faced such a choice when my own psycho skank ho he went nuclear and dropped an FRA on me to steal my kids away, suddenly all the “right” and “best” options were taken off the table, the only choices left sucked donkey balls and had impossible to predict future consequences.

God, Allah and Fate willing, my sons will reach the age of 16 and no longer be subject to the whims of the secret family courts, that is one of the more concrete future milestones in my life, between here and there everything is hazy and obscured and unknown, so making choices is tough.

Of course WHEN they reach 16 they will have their own agenda’s, and it is quite possible that psycho skank ho mummy has managed to instil a belief in a dead beat abusive dad who never gave a fuck about them and who they are better off without. Nothing I can do about that.

On the other hand, it is also possible they will decide to find this “daddy” and see for themselves what the fuck it is all about.

In THAT scenario it doesn’t take much brains to work out that there is a world of difference between them finding some broken down loser who has taken it up the ass from the skank ho and the state and cried in his beer, and them finding a man who when faced with a harsh choice decided that his sons would find a MAN, a man who could still be some use to them, teach them shit, hopefully help them catch up a little on the essential knowledge and skills they have missed out on.

But……………

I WILL NOT EVER LIE TO MY SONS, neither will I ever say anything other than this, no matter what the incentive, to anyone.

The above paragraph alone means that I will never seen my sons before the age of 16 (or maybe ever) because until that age those in control of their lives, psycho skank ho mummy and the secret family courts etc, will ensure that I do not…

“Mummy says you hurt her and you don’t love us and you left us all alone”

Should I be given or offered any hope whatsoever of seeing my sons, it will be on condition that I do not do anything but meekly accept such statements as fact, which means if I went along with the bullshit and effectively condoned the actions of psycho skank ho and the secret family courts et al, the person the boys might eventually be allowed to meet might well be their biological father, but he would not be a man, or anyone they could respect, or anyone ever able to help them… nor would his word be worth a damn when he did say “I love you Son”

Tough fucking choices for a man and a father in 2012 AD, and I am only one of hundreds of new men each fucking day drawn into the machine and faced with these choices.

While I am not incarcerated, my doors have locks but I hold they keys, my rooms have light switches on the inside, and I can come and go as I please, I have much in common with the wrongly convicted prisoner serving a very long sentence for a crime he did not commit.

I can continue to refuse to accept my guilt, and do the whole 16 years of hard time, or I can go along with what the machine wants, accept my guilt and get out on parole in three years with good behaviour.

In the latter case a man went into prison, and died there, and what came out was not a man.

I said above, I will not lie to my sons.

That means that when they are 16 they may walk up to me and say the following;

“So dad, what you are saying to me is that in order to preserve yourself, you basically abandoned me and my brother to mum and the courts.”

and I will have to say “Yes Son, because it is not a battle I could have won, I would have lost and gone to prison and made every lie they told about me true, and you and your brother would STILL be a ward of the courts and property of your mother.”

Do I feel good about that? Do I feel proud of it? Do I feel I have done my duty as a father? Do I feel that I have shown my love for my sons? etc etc… fuck no.

It’s a gamble, your mother and the state pointed a loaded gun at my head, so I had to make a tough choice, and the tough choice is to give up all hope of being a father to you, ever, in the hope that in doing so I could at least teach you something worthwhile, how to be a man.

I don’t hope that you boys will ever love me, or ever like me, or ever want to spend time in my company, I haven’t earned any of that, and I am not going to give you any whiny shit about I wasn’t allowed to by your psycho skank ho mummy or the state.

I DO hope that you boys will see how a man acts when presented with truly horrible choices, and learn from that, and perhaps in time respect me a little for it.

I DO hope that you boys will grow up to say their dad was a cunt, but at least he was a man… and maybe feel a little pride that that same strength rests within you boys too.