Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

I dunno, 20, loaded, beemer, fringes of the hollywood elite, and you still can’t get fucking laid??? Yeah, there are problems with wimminz and niggerz and society and blonde sluts, but come on man.

If you want to *not* get laid it is dead easy, don’t socialise, either in real life or virtual, if you don’t go to pubs and clubs in real life, and if you don’t go to dating sites in virtual life, not getting laid is about as difficult as not flying when jumping off a building.

The first para of Elliot Roger’s manifesto ends.

“… all because the females of the species were incapable of seeing the value in me.”

I suspect the ants in the driveway shared the same incapacity, but that didn’t bother young El, because young El didn’t give a fuck what the ants thought.

If your only metric of “X” is what other people think of you and see in you, then whatever “X” is, one thing it is not is any form of inherent internal value.

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So, you’re fuckbuddies with Tom and Dick and Harry, but you want to be my friend?

Bitch, it is not possible to list the multitude or depth of ways in which you are wrong, wrong, wrong…. if you are not draining my balls then I have zero utility for you.

Note also the use of the verb, a DOING word, not a talking about word or a promissory note or some teasing perhaps maybe offer.

I have been talking far too much about my work on here, unhealthy from a professional perspective, but on the other hand it is like going down to the river and actually measuring the water levels every day, it keeps it real.

It doesn’t matter if you are a wimminz or an employer or a private customer or a relative or social acquaintance, it is in my nature to rapidly tire of any shit being passed my way, and it is in my nature to know when the cusp is approaching, and it is in my nature that one day the particular ant farm in question is shut down, eliminated and thrown out.

It is a non-reversible process.

What I am talking about is my brain, the autonomous part not under conscious control, which is only the intellectual surface layer that writes these words, not the layer below that gives rise to the feelings and attitudes that these words are about, I can’t make myself love you, or like you, or have time for you, or want to fuck you…

Those ant farms may not have been there in the first place, but once they are gone, they are gone.

Once you say to me you want to friend-zone me you’re telling me what you think of me, and what you think of me is that no matter what your feelings and wishes on the subject, in practice you have made the decision to cut me off from that which was once available… it’s like a pub that says sure we’d love you to come in and hang out and buy drinks, we just ain’t ever going to sell you alcohol, or tolerate you drinking your own on the premises… you cease to exist on my radar.

Once you as an employer demonstrate that you do not actually value me as an individual employee, but see me in a completely mercenary way, what the flying fuck do you expect other than that I see you in exactly the fucking same mercenary way, you are a utility to me, no more.

You do NOT get to talk to me about my awareness of the company and it’s stated marketing and business goals and achievements, or my goals for personal advancement or achievement, and being strictly candid here buddy, when you start that shit with me now in 2014, I’m sat there thinking what the fuck do you think this is? 1991? Behind the fucking curve dudes.

You do NOT get to talk about it because you ain’t fucking interested in listening when I want to talk about what interests me, professionally speaking, which is take some money from the incompetent fucks in head office that make my job harder and make us all look like assholes to the end user, and give it to me, win-win for everyone.

Bosses telling me about career advancement options just sounds like some skank talking about the future possibility of being granted access to all three of her holes… yeah, maybe I will buy your used car for 100k, at some point in the future, if you’re nice to me in the meantime, and loan it to me, hey, the gas tank is empty, deal with that will ya…

Bosses telling me about other employees who have climbed the fucking ladder is like some skank telling me about other guys who have had or do currently have access to all three holes, I’m not saying I wouldn’t have some of that, but it really ain’t worth what you think it is worth, and it certainly ain’t worth any pay now mebbe get it later layaway shit.

If you want to deal with me, you have to put shit on the table NOW, otherwise we are all blowing smoke up each other’s asses.

I suppose to some I am an old has been over the hill mofo, but I don’t *feel* old, sure, I don’t delude myself that I haven’t changed since my late teens, but the changes aren’t really all that great, it’s all fairly linear so far, the accelerating slide off the precipice of old age hasn’t kicked in yet, but I get sooo easily bored.

If I never have to listen to another niggerz tell me about some other guy who was *intimidated* in a work situation by some other fucker it will be too soon.

inTIMIDated

do I strike you as timid motherfucker?

Just cos I’m some old skinny cunt, you think any cunt anywhere in a western world work situation is going to push me around? Hell, I don’t even have a fucking problem if the Elliots of this world turn up at work and go postal, because these people always shoot certain individuals and not others, FOR A FUCKING REASON, it’s targeted shit.

The Breivik’s of this world, who specifically target random people *purely* because of the impact, are rare, rare, rare, rare motherfuckers, and if I have to declare empathy for the Elliot’s or Breivik’s or the victims of this world, I’m afraid it’s going to have to be Breivik, at least there is evidence of intellect in the planning, if precious little of it in the risk/rewards department.

I don’t pretend to know either what Anders or Elliot had going on in their minds, but I have read both their manifestos, and if I am to judge them by that alone, and surely a self published and authored manifesto is the best metric of all, then both failed miserably at achieving any of the goals set out in their manifestos.

Both of these of course had manifesto’s, as do politicians and companies, and in effect people with fuckbook pages and bucket lists, and if there is any theme running through here it is that those with a manifesto wish to have their actions or themselves perceived in a certain way, and if observation is worth anything, this is a sure sign that they will be rather amateurish and ineffective in what they do.

Contrast them with Dr Shipman, who didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought, who in fact was quite happy for nobody to know anything, while he quietly and efficiently killed at least 150 THAT WE KNOW OF.

Office Space, the film, at least got that right…. Milton fucked the whole company, and sat on the beach drinking cocktails.