Wimminz | Wimminz - celebrating skank ho's everywhere

January 28, 2014

The nature of things.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: consequences — wimminz @ 11:47 am

You can watch a youtube fail video, and, partially because you just clicked a link on a video that announced it was full of fail, pretty much be able to predict every fail in it, and sit back and say to yourself what dumbasses they were.

I have discussed before that 90% of the ship sinking takes place in the last 5% of the time period from when the incident started to the last bit of the hull disappearing below the surface.

What we have here are two different sorts of fail, riding a pedal bike at a massive jump is the kind of instant fail where consequences follow actions within 60 seconds, we tend to call this sort of stuff stupid and foolhardy and crazy and irresponsible.

The other sort of fail is more like the ship sinking, it is a process that can take many hours, or even days, or weeks, or months, or years, so in theory there is plenty of time, but in shades of the frog being boiled slowly, there nevertheless comes a point where the end result becomes inevitable, even though it may still take hours or days or weeks or months or years to actually happen, you have gone beyond the point where mere actions could have prevented the final outcome…. you are past the point of no return… your plane may have 3 hours of fuel left, but the nearest safe landing / refuelling point is 3 hours and 5 minutes away.

Nobody builds groups of houses already collapsed hanging over a cliff edge, they build them thinking they have all the time in the world, and fact is if the house lasted there 70 years it may have seemed like all the time in the world, especially if you looked at the annual observed erosion for the first 10 years..none… but erosion doesn’t work that way, it goes in fits and spurts. One day the apparent cliff edge was 100 yards away, the next day that whole section starts sliding south.

The house arrowed sold at auction for 100,000 US bucks, AFTER the fucking cliff collapse started, but a mere 6 months before the house itself started to drop into the sea, nobody local would have bought it, had to be someone non-local that thought the erosion was done for another 70 years.

Just had a skanky cow on the phone to me, she likes talking to me because I don’t talk bullshit, the love of her life that she met 6 months ago, well, its coming apart in tears, booo hoo, I’m like WTF, it was obvious it was doomed on day fucking one, then on day 17 you tell me X, day 31 you tell me Y, day 44 you tell me Z, and quite frankly any single one of those should also have set alarm bells ringing…now you are sitting there blubbering acting like some shit just SUDDENLY happened…. WTF… dumbass…

I could sit here and listen to dumbasses who bought new build houses built on flooplains whining about how stupid the yanks are for living in tornado alley, well, I could, if they hadn’t been cut off for three weeks by the flooding, so I am saved their hypocrisy in that at least, and ok, buying a house on a floodplain isn’t as “instantly” stupid as riding a pedal bike as fast as you can at a monster ramp, you may well go years before facing the consequences, but just because the pain isn’t instant doesn’t make it any less inevitable and stupid.

There is this skank, I have told her to her face, she could be, if she chose, the perfect bitch for me to own, and she knows this and agrees that I am right and all the rest of it, and the only problem and reason it don’t happen is she is herself her own worst enemy, and she knows this and agrees that I am right and all the rest of it, and what she desperately needs is an older and wiser man like me in control of her life to prevent her making a series of poor decisions with ongoing consequences that ripple out on the sea of slurry that is her life, and she knows this and agrees that I am right, but no, she is her own worst enemy, and she knows this too and agrees I am right, and she is going to go on exactly the way she has been, because like the stupid bitch who bought the house on the cliff, she manages, contrary to all the evidence, to convince herself that any consequences are small enough for her to be able to cope with, and far enough away for her not to have to worry about them yet.

If a wimminz or a niggerz buys a car for 250 down and 250 a month for 48 months, they don’t think about that 48th payment and being able to make it, the only payment on the radar is the next one, and frankly that is a bridge they will cross when they come to it, no point worrying about it now.

That’s the common thing, “worry”, worrying is bad, so you label something as worrying and you have an excuse not to do it, cos worrying is bad see, it’s amazing what you too can achieve when you go around and start re-labelling things in your life, this is no longer financial planning, its financial worrying… and since worrying is bad, we don’t do that, no sir… wow.. result..

“Worrying” is what “boring” people do.

Years ago in the early days of the intertoobz there was a bunch who has a motto something along the lines of “we are the bikers who say DILLIGAF and LAGNAF” where of course that is do I look like I give a fuck and lets all get naked and fuck.

Dilligaf is a word I have used since at least the seventies, and I use at as a word, not an acronym like cee pee yoo, but like laser or radar.

So only boring people worry, fine, I’ll get my slippers, and as sure as summer follows winter, sooner or later the cunt is back, oh dear I have a thoroughly predictable problem that is now biting me in the ass, can you help… I just shrug and say “dilligaf” except if it’s fuckable, hey come on in baby I’ll make it better, then shrug and say “dilligaf”.. that shit is outta my league, me being a boring old worrier and all…

Of course, I am lying to all these people when they announce their natures to me, what I actually think and feel is “you are fucking dead to me” not as in I’m gonna kill you, but as in you are already dead, but since saying those 6 words takes more effort than not saying them, and since it slams several doors shut, I don’t say them…. hey, I might get another free filthy fuck out of it by keeping my mouth shut, but my semen is the only thing I am ever going to give them.

I will help *anyone* who is trying to get ahead, but the instant I realise that that person is fucking dead to me, because they have made a conscious choice not to “worry” or whatever, I won’t piss on them if they are on fire.

Ultimately it is all about MY choice and MY life, I use the youtube fail video at the beggining as an example because it has an important difference, I can wince and curse and anything else, but no matter how often I click on the link, it doesn’t affect my life or involve my life.

On the contrary, if you watch several hours of Russian dash cam videos you can see quite clearly that excessive speed caused 95% of everything, and then when things started to go wrong 50% of them could still have avoided the worst of it, by aiming behind the other vehicle, and not trying to swerve away and pass in front of it.

Whereas these people I talk about it is real life, and if you are stupid enough to NOT think of them as being fucking dead to you, they WILL involve you in their own ongoing failures… and more often than not that is a deal where you get the pain and none of the pleasure.

I wish the world was different, but it isn’t, I wish people were different, but they aren’t, hell, I wish there was an illuminati in control, but there isn’t, just a seething chaotic mass…. evolution works on political and financial and social levels just as well as it works on species.

The most compelling argument for change I can come up with is the fact that we haven’t had enough change recently, too many things have been too stable for too long, shades of John Glubb, but the very definition of evolutionary change is that THOSE ALIVE NOW DO NOT CHANGE, they are merely different to the subsequent generation, and so on.

For those of us reading this, that means you might indeed find a NAWALT wimminz, but she will be 3 years old, so it ain’t gonna do you much good…. on the contrary if you try to go looking for her you’ll get branded a paedo and thrown into jail.

I really *do* understand that many of you are desperate for a change, you hate the way your life is right now, your country is right now, your society is right now, but it will change, just don’t be so busy finding fault with what you see, that when the change comes, you are standing on the wrong bit of cliff.

Take an hour out of your life, and even if Kenneth Williams / Carry On isn’t your cup of tea, stick with it, it is a history lesson too.

Comments (1)

January 26, 2014

Madame Guillotine

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: index finger, madame guillotine — wimminz @ 1:10 pm

Back in the day, there was this metal shop, this place had been going so long it still had all the shafts and pulleys in the ceiling from when it was belt driven by a single steam engine.

Down one end, near the door you went through to get to the toilets, there was the guillotine, this was an old machine even then, with a small electric motor, maybe 1/2 hp, spinning up a pair of very large flywheels at the top, and these woked through some reduction gears to a crank, and mounted on that crank was a con rod that connected to the guillotine blade.

This thing probably took 4 or 5 seconds to complete a stroke and return of the blade, and anything metal that would fit in the throat of the machine, which was about 2″ wide by 1.5″ high, it would cut…. possibly a solid bar of 2 x 1 stainless would make it choke, but I wouldn’t bet on it, it was used for cutting 1 x 1 and 2 x 1/4 steel bar all the time.

I remember this shop, and this machine, because there was a “thing” in this workplace, now, every workplace has a thing, if you look long enough you will see it, in this place it was as a worker walked to the toilet, he would pause at this machine, and then look at the blade going up and down, and as it started the down stroke, poke his index finger in and out of the throat of the machine.

I remember at least three of the guys at that shop were missing the ends of their index finger, and it didn’t stop anyone else from doing it.

Hell, I cannot deny that I did not feel the pull… I wasn’t daft enough to do it, but then I didn’t actually work there day in and day out…. that is significant.

There is a conversation that I almost never have with skanks, I have it in my head when they ask, and then I am all meh, what’s the point explaining, it does me no good.

The conversation basically says that if it has been 4 weeks since I have seen and fucked you last, then I have lost interest in you, the pull of madame guillotine has faded.

At that point if you want to get back to me again, you do all the work, and all the driving… cos I can’t be assed… I’m not in the workshop, so madame guillotine has lost her allure…

As I said up there, every workplace has its thing, sometimes it isn’t a crazy thing like sticking your finger in a guillotine, sometimes it is just part of the job, a fisherman working with a capstan winch for example, you do that shit every day so you forget all about the (quite justified) fear and caution you felt on your first day on the job the first time you saw it.

It’s also a group thing, groups of guys in a workshop will have a thing, but the same number of single guys working alone would never have that thing…

I dunno, maybe I am different, or maybe I have (due to the environments I have been in) seen more than my fair share of people maimed and killed by machinery, but I am very much of the “are you sure you want to do that” and “this is going to end badly” school nowadays, it’s almost like watching youtube fail videos, you just know it is going to involve the protagonist getting hurt, you don’t actually have to see into the future, it’s not a different reality that has not yet come to pass, it is more like you have seen the explosion, now you are just waiting for the shock wave and noise….

I remember a guy telling me, he knew this guy who was at an early atom bomb test, and the guy was saying there is this incredibly bright double flash, and then this quite beautiful fireball, and it is all *completely* and *utterly* silent…. of course if you are 3 miles / 5400 metres away, at 340 metres per second it takes a rather astonishing 15 seconds for the sound to travel to you…

It’s only when the sound / shock-wave hits that it sinks in how big an event it was, not just pretty sparkly fireworks.

Even without the pay-off of emptying your balls and an orgasm so powerful it makes you go blind for 30 seconds, there is enough of the madame guillotine factor to explain why guys get burnt by wimminz, go back to another wimminz, get burnt, go with another wimminz, get burnt, etc… rinse and repeat.

You stick your finger in… just because… hard to explain, hell, all the other guys do it, and you only get bitten if you are too slow or your timing is off…

There isn’t actually any pay-off, as such, its just what you do to fit in, at that time and place…. no fisherman has any time for the guy who won’t take his turn on the capstan winch, next time the boat sails, he will be left ashore…

This is one of the unintended and unexpected consequences of the fragmentation of society and the destruction of community, not only will we never again see the village memorial listing the names of all the men who went off to the Great War and never came back, and, frankly, they signed up because their mates did… never again will we see the masses of men signing up for marriage and co-habiting LTR’s… there is no workshop with many men any more, they are all separated into their own workshops so to speak…

Don’t get me wrong, the stuff you can do over a TCP/IP connection is awesome, but, you can’t weld another guys toolbox shut after bolting it to the bench, or glue their cup down, or any of the other shit you pull when you are one of a group.

Madame guillotine just doesn’t have anything like the same temptation unless you are in the company of other guys, many or most of whom have stuck their finger in her throat… whether you are alone with her or watching her over t’internet, you just don’t get the urge, because there is nothing there to belong to.

Years ago, no, make that decades ago, none of my close friends lived more than a ten minute walk away, then as time passed and technology evolved the geographic spread increased, now, none of my close friends live closer than an hour’s drive away, that right there is the reason I don’t get up to some of the crazy shit I used to…

It’s not the nuclear family or the village community, alone, that we have been industriously wrecking, and it is the sub-conscious hankering for that that has driven the meteoric rise in social media such as fuckbook.

And now the same thing has happened with sex, far from these technological tools *allowing* us to meet and date and fuck people from outside a 5 mile radius, we are now as a mass of people generally preferring and selecting and rejecting people, simply because they live too close to us…

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see which way the trends are going…

Suddenly, instead of having to wait for the two week vacation every year to go hundreds of miles away so you could do shit you would never dream of doing in your own home town, like fuck a different guy every night, now there is no home town, and every hook up you make is in effect a vacation one, not on your own doorstep, so instead of being the temporary holiday excess, it becomes the daily norm.

We are, now, way past the point where this positive feedback loop became self sustaining.

I am a participant in something, it should hit the mainstream in autumn this year, and when it does, I will be able to video blog… ok, I could now, but I choose not to… but this thing will have that same transition phase effect on EVERYONE with a webcam.

And, another piece of the old walls of the old society comes crumbling down.

Comments (14)

January 25, 2014

The welfare state, nationalised industries, and education.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: George Loveless, nationalised industries, Social Security, welfare state — wimminz @ 1:06 pm

Sounds like a big topic, it’s not really.

For my sins/virtues/one reason or another, I have travelled at lot of the world, and lived in a lot of countries, and they were all quite diverse, so it wasn’t like spending some time in the UK, the US, Oz, where the cultures all had a common root.

I have also seen life from many levels, from literally the millionaire lifestyle to the other extreme, where you went for a month trying to avoid all human contact of any kind and if you eat anything two or three times a week you were doing OK, and what you eat was not a meal, but a bland all one thing to fill your gut, think plain rice or pasta, and, much in between, the insides of various cells etc.

Drugs and alcohol, yes, have played with those extensively for extended periods at ridiculous daily doses too, and they have played with me, friends often make comments about myself and Hunter S Thompson having a lot in common, I doubt that, but I’ve read his shit and can directly relate to a lot of his experiences.

I say all this for one reason and one reason only, you have to know where a guy has been (in life) to know where he is coming from (in attitudes) and thus know what weights to give anything he says.

You know what I am going to say, you know where I come from, you can put these two together and then make further allowances for the differences between thee and me, and come up with the truth as you would have seen it, had you been there.

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The Welfare State.

I’m sat in a prison cell with another guy discussing this, and he tells me social security is not security for the individual, it is security *for* society *from* the individual, it means that the thief has ZERO defence for stealing from you, he has no need to, in order to live.

Somewhere along the line we lost our way on this one, single skank ho mommies make more “take-home” nett than I do before taxes, and not being economically productive, they do nothing for the state, nor do their offspring, parasites one and all… this is not what “social security” was meant to be for.

Abolishing this excess means abolishing all the state employees who have a job doing the paperwork to dole out this excess, and they are the stumbling block, not the skank ho single mommies, they have no political power.

I can say for myself that my life would have taken a different path if the UK in the past 30 years was not such a soft welfare state, I don’t know if it would have been a better or worse path, I do know it would have been different, and remarkably so, not just a little bit.

I know from my own experience that *surviving* in the physical sense takes very little resources, just some food two or three times a week, the problem is to get ahead in society you need an address, and a place to wash and wash your clothes, and a place to store clean clothes and other basic possessions.. I know of several in their fifties single guys whose possessions fit into a couple of plastic trash sacks who live in one room bedsits, it’s enough to stay warm and dry and get the occasional temp or contract job and keep the cycle going.

If you don’t own an electric heater you don’t use much electric, you bundle up to stay warm.

Skank ho single mommy living off the state does not just live a better life economically than me, she does this AS WELL AS having enough surplus to support 2/3/4 kids.

My own “hard times” are a great leveller, it is really, really, really fucking hard for me to get depressed when I can walk out to the kitchen and see 3 x 750g tins of instant coffee, a couple of kilos of proper coffee, brown and white sugar, milk, and electric to do it all with a kettle, filter coffee machine and proper expresso machine, there is food in the freezer, 36 bog rolls and a dozen bars of soap in the bathroom, gas for hot water, gas for heating and cooking, and a warm and dry bed to sleep in.

Not going anywhere near anything else, just those basics, I can take a shit or make a coffee and smile at myself because there were plenty time in my life where either one was impossible… the glass is half full…

The welfare state was never intended to provide a better standard of living (with more job security) than a working stiff (me) could gain by doing a steady 40 hour a week job. The fact that it does (for skank ho mommies and the faux disabled) is not a fault of the welfare state. It is a fault in implementation.

It hasn’t been gamed by the single moms, so much as by the whole new departments that are needed once you start paying single moms to be single moms.

The fix is simple, just one rule, no exceptions, each adult over 18 is entitled to 50 quid a week for housing and 50 quid a week for everything else. Paid weekly, in cash, if you can’t be bothered to go and collect it on the day and time stated, then you don’t get it.

But what about the children, well, if you can’t feed or house them you can, if you choose, give them up to the state, for good. Or they can starve to death, or you can rent them out to paedos, or anything else you like, but you do NOT get rewarded financially for having them, and you do NOT get to blackmail the state with their welfare, you had them, your problem.

The welfare state will still serve its basic function, perfectly, as described to me most excellently by that man in that prison cell.

Nationalised Industries

Yeah, I know all the arguments, but it is the same as the welfare state, if it is kept lean and mean, and no empire building is allowed, nationalised industries can beat everything else into a cocked hat.

Obviously the old soviet system where there were state owned factories making shit like toothbrushes is one very bad extreme, the other very bad extreme is where everything is privatised, but it is illegal to opt out…

Of course we are always, without exception, talking about infrastructure, a national power grid, all working at the same voltages and frequencies, a national rail grid, all running at the same gauge, curve radii and so on, a national road network, with standardised sign-age and which side you drive on, a nationalised water and sewerage system.

Nobody argues that a nationalised weights and measures system is bad, because it isn’t, there are no downsides to it, and again, like the welfare state, it is this extreme that nationalised industries should be aiming for, not the other extreme, which is what the British NHS is today, 1 in 60 of the entire population of men women and children in the country is working for the NHS, the biggest employer on the planet with 1.4 MILLION employees… a minimum of a million of them should be sacked…. people talk about “if kalifornia was a country” well, the NHS is a country, in the economic sense, and a fairly fucking big one, within a country (the UK), and this is NOT what a nationalised industry should ever be.

Oh look, shades of the welfare state, whole departments springing up out of nowhere, to cater to all sorts of people who were NEVER the original intended recipients of the service. Gastric band on the NHS, boob job on the NHS, fertility treatment on the NHS, the list is almost endless.

Education

There is really no point, you are either already expecting the same answers as the above, and you’d be right, or you are not expecting the same answers, in which case you are part of the problem.

In my own lifetime the budgets expended on education and the number of people employed directly or indirectly in education has grown like the fission of bacteria, and yet the mean standards of education delivered to each child have utterly collapsed, and ironically they have collapsed so far that the vast majority of children leaving school today are too dumb to even realise just how fucking exceptionally dumb they are, rural farm hands in the 1800’s able to compose and write stuff (George Loveless) that is beyond even the capabilities of the current pupils teachers, make no impression if the children are never shown what the rural farm hands wrote… and have that “I don’t understand what he is saying” moment, eg you cannot speak English as well as a man born in 1797, who was a ploughman, eg spent all day looking at a horse’s ass, trudging behind it one furrow at a time.

===============================================

There is a direct analogy here, if you lack anything except the most basic programming knowledge, not only can you never write a program of any complexity, you can’t understand a program of any complexity either, you just have to take it on faith, or not, that the program is giving accurate and truthful answers.

You might see the difference between GTA-V and this, but you won’t know how or why.

To be sure, these lacks of knowledge don’t matter much when the real person, “AfOR”, plays the virtual character “poop” (cos it’s easy to type) in Skyrim, but what if you ARE “poop” and it IS real life(TM), which is the direct analogy.

You’re fucked, totally and utterly fucked, beyond all possibility of redemption.

Note the similarities between all three things above, all of them, in and of themselves, are laudable things that work well when first implemented or when pared down to the basics, but as soon as we get “fat” and get enough surplus for parasitic empires and ecologies to grow and thrive within these host structures, the whole things starts to go to shit.

The problem is not, never has been, and never will be, these basic things, and you cannot make them evil by giving them a dirty name like socialism, you are missing the fucking point and labelling the wrong thing with the wrong label.

You are looking at someone with the early stages of cancer, screaming CANCER!!!!, and shooting them in the head, you threw the proverbial baby out with the bathwater.

In this, you are doing the bidding of the bathwater, which held a gun to the baby’s head and said you ain’t taking me without killing the fucking baby first asshole.

Because you lack the coding skills to see the differences between BeamNG and Cryengine3, sure, you can see the differences on screen, but you are being asked to select one set of code over another here, and you lack the coding skills, and this tactic works, you do not see that the person or institution presenting you with this choice IS THE FUCKING PROBLEM, so you just call it all socialism or conservatism or liberalism or libertarianism or spaghettimonsterism, and become part of the problem, in gaming terms, you become the NPC, the non player character, you are just there to make the static backgrounds look animated.

And this is BY DESIGN.

George Loveless was born in rural Dorset it 1797, and grew up to stare at a horse’s ass all day ploughing a single furrow, but, he did have a basic education, English and Maths, and he then went out and used that as a foundation to educate himself.

The fucking OBSCENITY that is the western world in 2014 is that the majority of the population have access to the libraries and the internet and the people who do know something, and do sweet fuck all about it.

Yeah, there are guys who because of distance can only connect to me via the internet, so they use me as some sort of learning resource, and I’m not knocking that, but I sit here, qualified time served engineer, lots of world experience, workshop out back with mills lathes welders compressors oscilloscopes bench power supplies IT stuff up the wazzoo and you name it, and a fairly decent education to boot, and you know how many people in real life ask me to teach them how to do X?

None.

None this year, OK, the year is young so far.

None last year.

None the year before.

None the year before that.

Now I know none of the guys on the net who use me as a learning resource live close enough to me to do any different, but you live close enough to some fucker, y’all just gotta go out and find them.

And no, they are not going to pay YOU to teach you any shit, or go looking for you, or make any offers to you… we all been bit by that one before.

Or you can sit there and pump iron and play battlefield4 and empty your balls into the odd skank ho and kid yourself you are a survivor, when you’re just one of the “beautiful ones” (search this blog) as discussed previously…. because you aren’t growing and expanding your knowledge and skills.

I’m in my fifties and this time last year I knew dick about Cisco, for example, and compared to the guys who do know Cisco I still know dick, like the coding example given above, however I know enough, I LEARNT enough, to learn a new skill, a new job, a new employer, a new salary.

Got to tell you guys, Debbie Meaden was right on that one, “If I’ve learned anything during my career, it’s that if you sit at home doing nothing, … nothing is exactly what will happen”

The State has abandoned, completely, the idea of teaching anyone anything, you are on your own, literally, as you never have been before.

You, I, We, we are all fucked, totally fucked, and it may be that with dedication and effort and luck, all of them sustained for year after year, you too could be in a place where a man in his fifties works 40 hours a week and his gross pay is less than some skank ho single mommy in her 20’s can get nett.

Would I swap places with the young slut? Would I fuck. Talk about vulnerable and weak and worthless and unable to modify her environment.

The opening scenes of Up In Smoke were as funny as fuck way back when, I was different then, had my whole future in front of me, and the world was different then, “Start with strawberries… you may work your way up to these goddamned bananas….. when boy… when.. are you gonna get your goddamed act together?” I still laugh at it, but it ain’t the same sort of laugh. I’m not laughing at the same things, or in the same way.

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January 24, 2014

The make-your-own-paedo kit

Filed under: Wimminz — wimminz @ 10:47 am

Yes, it’s a contentious title…

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2545081/I-dress-new-man-girlfriends-LIVID.html

“My friend Clare was one of the first to voice her opinion loudly and clearly. ‘Haven’t you heard of independent thinking, woman?’ she snapped. (sic***)

I was taken aback. After all, I wasn’t asking Richard who I should vote for, or getting his permission to drive the car.

The irony is that if I told my friends that I was growing my hair at the suggestion of my daughters Ellen, 22, and Elise, 20, no one would bat an eyelid.”

It’s all groupthink*** and shades of Chomsky’s manufacturing consent… which brings us to the contentious title.

I have said this before, here, and in real life, and to wimminz, there are two reasons a person does not do something “wrong”, and let’s take a contentious example like fucking an underage wimminz, reason 1 is “it is illegal” and reason 2 is “I have no desire to”, of course, both these reasons are condensed shorthand, it is not simply a lack of desire in the sexual sense, it is far more complex than that, but the glib summary is good enough.

My position has always been that reason #2 is the more trustworthy, as it is the more enduring, I wouldn’t do it even it if became legal, and reason #1 is the least trustworthy, not only might you do it if it became legal, you might do it if you believed the chances of detection were small enough…

Nevertheless, reason #2 stood alone all by itself has become socially unacceptable and inadequate, one must now wax lyrical and at length about all the reasons why such a thing is “wrong”, and of course since this is itself manufactured, there is the danger or doth protest too much, so you feel angst, and that makes you vulnerable to manipulation, because no longer is it good enough to merely not do a wrong thing, you must justify it.

The truth and your inner and innate nature becomes a casualty, we can no longer say things like “I’d quite happily shoot the cunt” about someone we were never in even the slightest danger or actually killing, we were just expressing frustration.

Which leads us on to unnatural behaviour, I look around me and see all sorts of people, not just men, behaving in ways that I find completely alien, we dismiss it by calling it gay or faggy or pathetic, even though it is none of those, except perhaps pathetic, the one thing it absolutely is not, is manly.

Back in the day, being manly about something meant you controlled your actions, you didn’t need laws to coerce you to do this, you just did it, because to do otherwise was to open a can of worms on a slippery slope and then start dancing.

Some of you may be ahead of me here….

So, sticking to our contentious subject of fucking the underage, although the principle we are talking about here applies across the board, so it is stronger in everything else with a lower social taboo and tariff, which is everything else, just about…

Reason #2 is being systematically destroyed, for any and every subject you care to name.

What’s left?

Reason #1, and fact is, reason #1 was never much use, it was little more than window dressing and a fancy pint job for reason #2, so once you destroy reason #2 you start to find out just how fragile reason #1 is.

Straying away from the contentious issue of paedos…

Last night I’m talking to this slut with comedy (huge) tits, her husband is in the services deployed abroad, and when the cat is away the mice will play, her interests include , but are not limited to, Toys, Watersports, Threesomes, Taking Photos, Swingers Clubs, Spanking, Soft Swing, SM, Separate Room Swapping, Same Room Swapping, Safe Sex, Role Play, Rimming, Oral, Making Videos, Group Sex, Fisting, Dogging, Cybersex, Blindfolds, Anal, Adult Parties, and so on, and oh yes, there is a 4 year old kid, so she can only accommodate after 7pm or during the day when the kid is in nursery…

She has no intention of giving up the swinging, or ever letting her husband know anything about it, as to the marriage itself, does she see it lasting? Fuck no, but she doesn’t want to bail out just yet as being married is a lot more comfy and secure than being a single skank ho single mommy slut.

You see what happens when you destroy reason #2 and are left only with reason #1, it just isn’t strong enough, it doesn’t actually prevent anything, it just makes people sneaky and deceitful… and slides them into the gutter, which is where we would all have been without reason #2

Getting back to the contentious, I’m not a paedo, so I have no idea how effective it ever was to hang out near primary school playgrounds with a pocket full of lollipops, but I do know that I have not enough fingers on one hand to count the number of skank ho single mommies who have explicitly offered me their underage daughters for sexual purposes.

Thanks to #2 being eradicated there was no safe way for me to ever even fucking consider going to someone in authority and reporting a child at risk, think about it, you know this, there are a million ways that could turn around and bite me on the ass, big-time, and the ONLY POSSIBLE upside is it might, just might, improve the lot of a child I have no genetic relations with, this is ITSELF irrefutable proof of how reason #2 gets destroyed, right there…

My only possible option is to do what I have always done, exit stage left, WITHOUT antagonising the skank ho in question by telling her what I think of her for pimping her own fucking flesh and blood, you know how that will end too..

And so, in shades of a rising tide lifts all boats equally, a falling (moral) tide not only exposes the mudflats, but it makes what were previously dark and hidden depths no more than wading pools.

If 4 wimminz have openly offered me their daughters, then there are 400 who would have, but for reason #1, they can’t be sure there would never ever ever be a price to pay, or their image would never suffer, the lostprophets guy sure had no problems finding wimminz quite capable of participating and providing their own children and babies as victims, and there is no other possible conclusion when there are text conversation recorded in which he says as plain as day words to the effect of lets fuck your 2 year old baby, and the wimminz in question are still talking to him six months later.

Reason #2 was why I oh so nearly got fucked in my own FRA, I was there, I had in my own head a 100% perfect videotape CCTV record of every moment since I met the bitch, I knew how totally and utterly false and malicious and without basis the whole fucking thing was, but, thanks to reason #2, I could not conceive, and I mean that most literally, I could not conceive of the type of mind and morality required to tell such awful fucking lies, and that “stunned into insensibility” thing nearly cost me everything, because if you treat it all as some terrible mistake in some way, and not deliberate enemy action, you lose.

I learned.

I learned my lesson.

Reason #2 still exists within me, but unless the scenario in question is actually illegal, a breach of reason #1 in other words, reason #2 is given the response “Duly noted” and ignored.

It’s not illegal to fuck some slut while her child is asleep upstairs and her husband is off in Afdiggastan, sure, it’s immoral as all get out, but so fucking what.

*****I***** didn’t marry the poor bastard or make him any promises, and at least I won’t give the bitch a dose which she can give him as a coming home present, and I am keeping electronic records, if he ever says anything to me I hand him a USB stick, there you go jack, there it is in her own words, literally, and she joined fucking sites and met plenty of guys long before I came on the scene. (and in all her holes)

Dude, he is gonna kill you, people say, no, he ain’t, I have heard that one so fucking often, and then the guy steams up and looks me in the face, and it ain’t because I am 6 foot 10 and 300 lbs of pure badass muscle, because I ain’t, it’s because I am looking at a fucking loser who isn’t even man enough to either control his own bitch or kick her to the kerb, and he knows it, and I didn’t do it to hurt him, because I don’t give a fuck about him, or his bitch, but, I kept digital records, which prove that throughout, well, you will wish that everyone else who cuckolded you was as straight and decent and honourable as me, which ain’t a fucking lot, to tell the truth, but at least I went into a crooked game and made sure I was the fairest and most open player there.

Small mercies bro.

I’ve been in your shoes, my empathy is genuine.

Reminds me of an old (biker) tee shirt I had in the early 80’s

As you are now, I once was.

As I am now, you will never be…

That shit will fuck you up or make you stronger, I said stronger bro, not nicer…

Comments (1)

January 22, 2014

Despicable moi

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: AWALT — wimminz @ 11:43 pm

You know the old adage about you can tell if a politician is lying, their lips move, and of course it will be no surprise to anyone on here that the same adage holds true for wimminz…

Well today I just had a phone call from a guy I know “virtually”, he is pretty much walking in my shoes, maybe two years behind me.

And yet we have both been presented with irrefutable (as in the kid with chocolate all over its mouth claiming it hasn’t eaten the chocolate cake) evidence of the latest squeeze lying, and both our responses were the same, calling them on it in a snarky fashion, and both the wimminz responses was the same, block us.

But because I am a couple of years ahead of him on this path, I see this as a victory, the crapola car I was test driving that was marketed as a high end coupe crapped out and caught fire, saving me money, and yes, the disappointment hurts me for literally 60 seconds and I’m over it and it is forgotten, he sees that too, but the hurt is more and lasts much longer.

Well, he rang me tonight after his latest bitch blocked him, to tell me that a penny has dropped.

This particular penny is that in increasing his “Wimminz-Fu” and becoming ever wiser to the ways of da wimminz, and realising that far from increasing exposure sooner or later, just by statistical chance alone, ensuring he comes across the fabled NAWALT wimminz, what it is actually doing is exposing to ever greater depths of profundity and universality and truth that AWALT is the only thing there is, and the penny itself is that this knowledge is itself affecting him, and as a result he himself is giving out some sort of vibe, and he is turning into something that the wimminz instinctively avoid, as they pick up on this vibe.

I say “Uh-huh… and…?”

And, well, he ain’t really happy about it, and I remember that feeling too, I also remember it from way back when I found out Father Christmas didn’t exist, and some magic went out of the world.

It’s called growing up mate, or did you think you could declare that AWALT, and there would be no further ramifications?

If AWALT is true, then it stands to reason AWALT are gonna dislike you intensely, if for no other reason than the simple fact that 99.999% of people who are thoroughly dishonest and unpleasant do NOT see that as a wonderful and fun fact about themselves, they see it as some piece of dirty laundry best not washed in public, and your wimminz-fu is saying to them, very loudly, I am a mirror that will reflect the true image of yourself back at you, so come and gaze long and deeply into your reflection.

Not Gonna Happen.

The whole thing (male / female relations) becomes some sort of absurd Shakespearian farce, I’m coming over all Russian in my jaundiced outlook, reminds of a Spitting Image sketch from years ago when Gorbachev had just taken power in Russia, he is sat at the table about to eat breakfast and tips the packet of corn flakes into the bowl, of course the bowl fills up with free toys, so he empties the whole packet on to the table, and there, in its own little special sellophane wrapper, is a single corn flake… Gorby sighs, and says “Not another bloody crop failure…”

Of course a nationwide crop failure, whatever the reasons, is a tragic thing by any standards, but the determination (in the alternate world of the comedic sketch) of the corn flake producer to still make and market the exact same box of product, even if they have to totally invert the original premise of one toy in a cellophane wrapper hidden away in a whole box of corn flakes, was humorous in its own way, and of course I can see echoes of it in the way da wimminz are now when they sigh and ask where all the real men have gone, while refusing to look in the mirror…

The past day or two I have been commiserating with a colleague at work, some wimminz at work lied to him about work to such an extent he felt compelled to make a complaint about it.

I tried to explain to him, there is an awful inevitability, and I have seen the process time and time again, two or three guys start a business, it does really well because they give a shit and have pride in their work, some point between 12 and 50 employees it has grown to the point where they employ at least two or three total assholes, the girl on commission who will make any sale, so the regular buyer who drops a thousand bucks a week, week in, week out, gets his order late, because the van is out delivering the three five buck sales the sales chick made to get her commission on the sale and new customer bonus, and if the company survives that and continues to grow, which is possible depending on how good the remaining employees are, it gets big enough to start in on the corporate bullshit, inter-departmental cliques form, and you get what my colleague had, a wimminz who lied to him when he questioned a work assignment, rather than look at it again and perhaps reverse her decision…

At that point there is no longer a winning strategy, there are only survival strategies, such as mine, stay low level, never go anywhere near the office, never give a fuck, it’s crap pay but money for old rope for all that, and minimal hassle, every step up the ladder seniority and wage wise is an exercise in diminishing returns.

In this environment, giving a shit about the end user / end customer / quality of work is fatal, just cruise, keep your head down, and get ALL the paperwork straight, and CYA.

You get a situation where the company wants to display the “ACME PLATINUM PARTNER” shit all over their website as a USP for the sales team hunting work from other corporates, so the company pushes 5 dumb employees to work their asses off to pass the exams, and then keeps them on the lowest wage they can and that the employee will stand for stacking toilet rolls, the skill sets aren’t actually USED, they are just required so the company can claim platinum partner status.

I told him, if *I* am going to study for exams, I want paying extra for studying, I’m not studying in the hope that as / when / if I pass the exams, the company will increase my salary…

Again we see the parallels to dealings with wimminz… do I like this state of affairs? Of course I fucking don’t, but there ain’t a damn thing I can do about it.

You have to let go, you have to accept, and you have to not care about anything outside your control, and adapt to anything that impinges on yourself, it is not a pleasant process, any more than throwing up poisoned food is, but for your own health and well being you must do it.

The guy who is two years behind me in my footsteps, I would not wish this path upon you, (or any other man) my brother, I would spare you the pain and the sorrow and the changes in yourself as you adapt and survive, but I fear that however unpleasant the path we walk upon is, all the alternatives are worse, much, much worse, and for what it is worth, know you are not alone.

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

Comments (1)

Lamborghini Cuntach

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: Ford Anglia, Lambo — wimminz @ 3:21 pm

See.. the thing is… this car came out in 1974, and (dating myself) instantly appeared on all small boy’s walls as a poster, for values of small boy meaning anything up to mid twenties age wise…

I dread to think how many brain CPU hours I dedicated to this car.

I dread to think how many SUB-CONSCIOUS brain hours I dedicated to this car, Ford Anglia drives by, thinks, it’s not a Lambo izzit…

Now, here is the funny thing, in the intervening 40 years, I have not merely never owned one, I have not merely never driven one, I have never actually seen one with my own two eyes.

If I am only to believe what I can directly perceive with my own senses, the beast in question is a mythical beast, not a real one. (Hence no picture, instead a picture of a car we did own at the time)

This isn’t an exact parallel to a NAWALT wimminz, you don’t sit there are dream of the ideal relationshit and ideal sex life and ideal family and stuff based upon no more than a poster, and all you see in real life are Ford Anglia’s, and every Ford salesman is trying to tell you that there is no discernible difference between the Ford and the Lambo.

Such a salesman would be laughed out of town, he wouldn’t even be able to sell a Lambo at Ford prices, much less a Ford at Ford prices, or a Ford at Lambo prices.

The serious part of all this is this, all the marketing that was done to me about the Lambo, I did myself, I never saw an advert for one, ever, it just became an iconic and desirable piece of kit overnight, out of nowhere… reminds me of me parking up next to an old farmer on my then brand new Ducati Desmo 900ss, and he just looked at it and said “I never knew Ducati made anything other than tractors!!” which made me feel all kinds of ugh…lol

And this is a function of the human brain, and a weakness, and nobody with a pulse is immune to it.

You can pine for the Lambo, you can pine for the perfect sex life and relationshit with Girl X, you are doing it to you, even though you have no actual evidence that was ever presented to you first hand to show that such a thing actually exists in real life.

In many ways this is the story of a man growing up, as a young man he has a set of expectations that when put together (the perfect wimminz being 100) has a score of 85, I’m not greedy, I’m not an asshole, I don’t expect a 97 or 98 or 99, all I want is an 85.

Time passes, and in his thirties he is I’m not greedy, I’m not an asshole, I don’t expect an 85, all I want is a 50.

Time passes, and in his forties he is I’m not greedy, I’m not an asshole, I don’t expect a 50, I’ll settle for a 30.

Of course there is a consequence, there is a lot of stuff you will put up with, and do, and accept, from the Lambo, but when the Ford pulls that same shit, GTFO.

As our expectations drop, so does what we are prepared to pay, but somewhere behind it all there has to be a sweet spot where you can convince yourself that whatever price you are being asked to pay is, basically, “worth it”.

At my stage in life now, my expectations hover somewhere around the 10 mark, all kinds of shit that would have been ugh puke automatic disqualification get thee behind me Satan shit back then, is quite acceptable now, however, the price I am prepared to pay is commensurately lower.

Being brutally honest, the 10 today may not be a mythical beast like the Lambo back in the day, which was a solid 100, there may be plenty of choice, but the sticker price being asked is still way too fucking much, even though now I could conceivably finance it, whereas I could never have financed the Lambo back in ’74, there wasn’t even a lottery you could win back then.

It’s not so much, My God, my standards are so LOW, how come I can’t find a wimminz to meet them? So much as My God, my standards are so LOW, but wimminz who meet them have such unrealistic expectations of the price I should pay…

There is however something inimical that is hard-wired into our brains that makes it a huge challenge for us to;

Not worry if the “prize” comes this weekend, or next, or in a month’s time, or three months time.
Not worry or think or devote any CPU cycles to the “prize” while it still remains a mythical beast.
Not invest any time or effort or money, further to item 2 above, in attaining the “prize” while it still remains a mythical best.

Long term strategy and planning, something that SOME men can do and are good at, is an ENTIRELY cerebral and logical higher consciousness and thought and intellect based thing.

For most of life and most of human life to date, survival did not reward this kind of approach, all that mattered was what was available now and what is on offer now, and watching men learn that wimminz are poison is like watching a dog learn that test subject 4 never ever ever has any treats for him, so he is better responding to test subjects 1 to 3 when they rustle the brown paper bag that looks like it might contain something yummy to eat.

And, being human, we cannot maintain such higher thought processes 24/7, and even when we do maintain them, the earlier survival based reptilian and monkey brains are still there, Pavlov’s dog still salivates, and looks at test subject 4, even long after he has learned that person never once gave him a treat.

And of course the real secret is that if you perform such a test, get 4 test subjects and give each one a brown paper bag full of doggy treats and instruct only one of them to never give the dog any, and the other 3 to give the dog a treat or not as they see fit, you never have to explain the test to the dog to get it to participate fully.

Just like you never had to explain to me about the Lambo, or Bardot at 16… my participation was a given.

The upshot is you will never convince any man, at lizard and monkey brain level (no matter how much you reason with the higher brain) that the girl in question only has any actual value when the three conditions above are NOT true, and the 4th state becomes true, when she comes to yours for the night.

You will never convince him that “giving up” this potential prize is in fact not giving up anything, not dreaming of the Lambo doesn’t guarantee I will never get it, the fact that it is a mythical beast does that.

Which of course brings us to religion, which is no more than the same thing, acting and thinking in a certain way in the belief that at some future point there will be a pay-off, even though no living human being has ever met another living human being who won the jackpot.

Man will not wise up to wimminz (and wimminz will not wise up either) as long as Man still gives any credence to religion, they are both essentially the same mechanism in the brain at work, something more advanced than the basic lizard and monkey brain survival routines, yet also not something advanced enough to be described as something that is either scientific or based upon logic.

Challenging or expecting mankind to adopt an intellectual approach to sexual equality is therefore a task exactly on a par with challenging mankind to eliminate all religion, not suppress it, eliminate it, and this is in a world where in this present day and age wimminz will use the fucking technological marvel that is the internet to state on their OkCunt profile that they believe the Earth is larger than the Sun, and see nothing wrong in stating this for all the world to see.

All that is left is what the ancients did, and maybe they were not misogynistic patriarchy inadequate bastards when they deemed that wimminz were chattels, with no rights of their own, maybe they were just fucking observant.

In any event, look to removing from wimminz the right to vote, or own property, or to testify against a man, or to have any rights of their own, before you look to any other path of eliminating the current misandry.

Please note I am not claiming any kind of inherent right or wrong here, or any moral principles, any human that gets hungry enough will pluck bugs off the dirt and eat them, there is no right or wrong, just survival at work.

The way we look at wimminz, and the way they look at us, it’s rooted in the lizard brain and monkey brain, wimminz are no more responsible for acting the way they do than we are for falling for it, it is hard wired into our nature.

This is why, even if you assume that the old ways of wimminz being property was wrong, then the current way we live is also wrong, because neither one allows for the fact that you cannot legislate the lizard and monkey brains and survival…. so when you force them to conform by force of law, the actual results will never be the intended results…. MGTOW and the collapsing birth and father present raising the kids their entire lives phenomenon is just one of the non intended results, and this is an ongoing and accelerating process.

Sure, it may well have been shitty to be the average wimminz in 1666 compared to being the average man in 1666, I don’t deny that, any more than I deny it may well have been even *more* shitty to be the average African in 1666…

Nor do I deny that in theory it would be nice if we could do all sorts of things in a more equitable way, but you can’t, every action has a re-action, and most of them are unforeseen and unintended consequences.

The average modern western white wimminz cannot shame me about the plight of the average western wimminz in 1666, because every advance in modern society that has allowed these advances has been borne on the backs of peasants in oil rich countries still effectively living in the stone age, and these wimminz are the very last to complain that something should be done about this, oil should go up to $300 a barrel IMMEDIATELY to re-distribute some of the wealth to the poor peasants in said countries… so in effect the advances the modern western wimminz has made are EXACTLY as unfair and unjust as the disparity between a white man in 1666 and a white wimminz in 1666, and since the modern wimminz see nothing wrong in their current disparity with the Persian peasants, why should I see anything wrong with the disparity between white men and wimminz in 1666, or even in 1906…

It is what it is, a fact of life.

To this very day I still catch myself having to intellectually remind the lizard and monkey brains in me that Skank Ho X is not any kind of “prize”, at any given day in the future she is either going to be polishing my cock, or she isn’t, no way to predict it, or influence it….. so resist the temptation to tell the bitch to take a fucking hike just because she ain’t delivered yet, that is one guaranteed way to ensure she never does, and also resist the temptation to think that there is anything I can do or say or invest in her that will increase the likelihood of it ever happening.

I still have never seen with my own eyes, much less driven, much less owned, a Cuntach, I just don’t devote brain CPU cycles to it any more, consciously or sub-consciously.

You have to learn to separate the dream from the reality, the Lambo is the dream, the Ford is the harsh reality, giving up the dream hurts, not the thing, it was never more substantial than a myth, but the dream was very real and very personal.

It was confusing, giving up the dream, or giving up the myth, that is a trick I am still learning, ever so slightly more as each day passes, to this day… the ability to have such dreams is one of the things about me that I like, to ability to invest in them more than I should for a myth is one of the things about me that I do not like.

There is one of *these* just down the road though..lol

(ps, I know it is really a Countach)

Comments (1)

January 19, 2014

Accumulated fuckups.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: capital cost, Interest rate — wimminz @ 5:50 pm

Fuckups are like debts…

Much of this is going to appear to be self evident and too obvious to even talk about to many, but, with the passage of time and the gaining of experience, you will realise that while the thing itself is self evident, the baggage it carries, and the reach of its effects, are vast beyond imagining.

Fucking up is like debt in two ways;

There is the capital cost
There is the interest rate and term (schedule) of repayments

Capital cost of course varies from person to person, position to position, and society to society, but, crucially, so does the interest rate and term of repayments.

This is what Anatole France was referring to when he wrote “In its majestic equality, the law forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges, beg in the streets and steal loaves of bread”

To any man the debt incurred by killing another citizen is far greater than the debt incurred by damaging their property, but this debt is not incurred equally by all men, nor charged at a rate of interest equally by all men, nor is it to be repaid within the same term by all men equally.

As we all know, nor is it equal across the sexes.

Nor is this debt owed to anything as fleeting as society, or the state, or community, instead, it is a debt owed to life itself.

For the youth, particularly the youth born to common stock and holding no wealth or power in his own right, this does not merely mean that he should avoid massive capital cost items like armed robbery and abduction and murder, these being the equivalent of the liar loan for the 500k McMansion, but ALL items have a cost, that bust for 1.5 grams of grass, that job you fucked up and got sacked from because you were always too hungover from the night before to start work on time, that qualification you failed to get because you were more interested in chasing cunt, sure, they are 5, 50 and 500 dollar purchases against the 500k McMansion scam, but the point is, they all add up.

So the 20 year old youth with the relatively clean slate with regards to debts owed to the bank of life, turns into the 25 year old, with significant debts owed to the bank of life, who turns into the 30 year old, with massive debts owed to the bank of life.

And here is the red pill.

It is too late, you can never be righteous enough to clear that debt by this stage, instead you have to be as righteous as you can be just to service it, if you don’t make as righteous as you can be, the debt grows explosively, your life turns to total shit, and because you are in denial, you are the last one to know it.

This is essentially what we independent men are talking about when we look at, for example, the skank ho single mom in her 30’s who has a 3 digit cock count and at least two kids by 2 different fathers, neither of whom is in her life now.

She is so far and deep in debt, because of her lifestyle, and subject to such high interest rates, because of her lack of status and influence, that the only future choices she has are the metaphorical workhouse or the gutter.

In street speak, at this point in her life it is absolutely guaranteed that everything she touches will sooner or later turn to shit.

But the reason is the baggage and reach of that “debt“, and the only reason she and you do not know this, is because some time around the mid 1960’s we started punishing everyone who tried to instil this in their children.

The lesson that you can either fuck up by making one or two large mistakes in life, or lots of very small ones, and get to a point where future options vanish, and your feelings about that are immaterial, tough fucking shit.

“You are going to throw away your life boy” is not something that is said to teenagers now, because there is nobody left who understands the lesson to tell them, and there is no point either, because unlike the society *I* grew up in, where your parents actually ensured that you got to 16 without owing the bank of life one red cent, the kids growing up today are often underwater in debt to the bank of life by the time they HIT their teens.

For bank of life, substitute the bank of karma, the bank of zen, the bank of righteousness, bank of shit, whatever suits you.

Essentially, you then find two things, one is the class of people who say oh shit, this fucking sucks, but still, spending the rest of your life in the workhouse is better than spending it in the gutter… and those who attempt to avoid paying the piper, guaranteeing that (as happened in real life back then) even the fucking workhouse would not take them, so the gutter was the only option there was.

Guess which type of person will always drag you down with them?

However much we as a society might revile the pasty skinned wimp who stays at home all day beating off to free porn on the internet and playing GTA-V because he “can’t get a girlfriend” and who is “billy no mates” and so on, the chances are that, all other things being equal, he is NOT incurring debts with the bank of life at any great rate, he just isn’t making any deposits in his savings account at the bank of life either, so he isn’t in great shape, debt to bank of life wise, but neither is he a lost cause when it comes to the future.

———————————————————————–

It’s quite a quandary, let’s say my sons turn up out of the blue on my doorstep when they turn 16.

What advice do I give them? Really.. given that advice is useless until the hand is burned by the flame and the lessons learned, and it is different for everyone and every generation, I can’t give advice… it is pointless.

I’m probably doing them a greater service by standing there in silence, saying nothing to them, but wishing them well and hoping they survive long enough to understand their old man.

You want the bad news son, or the worse news?

The bad news is the bank of life exists boy, the worse news is your psycho skank ho mommy already opened an account in your name, and you are already overdrawn…. a lot…

Is it fair? fuck no boy… it’s life…

Comments (2)

Easyriders.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: Dave Mann, Harley-Davidson — wimminz @ 12:26 pm

Back in the 70’s, easyriders kicked ass, one of the things that kicked ass were the stories, usually with a Dave Mann drawing somewhere in there.

I remember one about a guy going to buy a “74 Harley” that was advertised, when he got there it was a 1974 Cagiva/Aermacchi 250cc 2 stroke single branded as a Harley Davidson, which was a legit thing at the time, and anyway the guy is a wannabe and promptly wheelies the thing straight across the road into another house and ends up in hospital, talking shit about the panhead he is gonna buy next.

One of the other stories that struck me was a biker who got the “right to reply” on a local TV cable channel, he was given 30 minutes of airtime, so he prepared himself and comes up with eloquent and dignified things to say and impart, you know, he was going for the thing that DMJ does in his videos, so he gets there and goes on air and the red light comes on and he has his 30 minutes of airtime.

So after wards he goes to the bar and asks everyone what they think, did he nail that fucker or what… grins…

Baffled faces all around.

Dude, you were stood there in silence for 30 minutes, looking like you were about to pop a fucking artery, both arms extended towards the camera, both middle fingers raised… you didn’t *say* a fucking word.

Yeah, he says, I aced it.. and grins…

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In Ceasar’s day, you’d have been chained to an oar.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: HQ, ISP — wimminz @ 11:25 am

There, I finally used it as a story title.. >;*)

OK, this story

I mean, WTF…..

God help these cunts if they ever get a look at my (whole disk bit-locker encryption) work laptop, which has amongst other things all the details of all the sites of all the corporate customers, which is probably 75% of all the high street and FTSE 500 names, and a bunch of other businesses and companies you have never heard of, like the ones running your schools and hospitals.. not to mention carrying around the physical keys and pass-cards to walk into basically any of the telecomms hubs or local exchanges, and BTW the bigger of these masquerade in plain sight like CIA fronts, The United Fruit Company and all that.,

I walk around with this fucking info cos, you know, I need that fucking info to do my fucking job…

Leaving aside for one moment the hilarious irony that you get handed all this shit when you join the company, in the same way a sales guy gets handed a company car, it is an essential tool to do the job, and yet you can for whatever mysterious or not so mysterious reason fail one or more of the various security vetting procedures required to work on certain sites, OK, so you don’t trust me to (for example) go and do some work in the civilian / clerical section of the local police station, but I am walking around with access to the backbone itself… way to go sherlock…

As one commentard said, quite correctly, even though he posted anon, which means he is in the same game as me

Why people are under the illusion that ISPs knowing their email passwords is some kind of scandal is a mystery though. Of course they do. Sky knows what programs you watch, LG tv’s report home with the filenames of videos you want on your network (seen midgetpr0n.mkv lately?) OpenDNS knows every single site you browse, companies you’ve never heard of who provide transit to your ISPs routinely analyze your email messages to cut down on bandwidth wasted by spam, Facebook, Twitter, Google+, YouTube support can access every single thing you have ever posted or written on their sites. ISP support being able to check your email account is no different, it’s not some conspiracy to spy on you. If a company provides support for a service which you subscribe to in some way, then they have access to your account. Support doesn’t work without it.

Which is all true, it is just funny that it is a minority opinion and not blatantly obvious accepted fact on what is purported to be a tech specific IT specific website….

But oh noes, it is a bweach of my pwivacy, I want a password that NOOOOOOBODEE else ever knows, so that when I log into my fuckbook page and update the NSA/CIA/GCHQ database with my latest private information the nasty ISP staff cannot spy on me….

We get handed spreadsheets containing everything we could possibly need to know for all 950 ACME corp sites in the country, for example, for one reason and one reason only.

It’s easier for HQ to keep all the field guys updated with the latest revision of said master spreadsheet, as opposed to some droid in HQ going through said spreadsheet and only sending me today’s work/job details… a scenario that frankly I personally would HUGELY prefer, I fucking hate spreadsheets, especially ones that scroll 4x screen width left and right, in tiny text.

As one commentard said “Do you know how CHAP works” which whooshed over everyone’s head, sure, the plain-text password may not be actually sent in plain-text over the network, but the user-land device has to KNOW the fucking password to generate the hash, and unless the user-land device is a fucking psychic electronic mind-reader, some poor cunt has to type it in, and generally speaking to be able to type something in I have to know what I am typing.

Any additional levels of security provided by HQ only sending me that specific client’s details on that day, and that data itself as a password protected file, is utterly meaningless. Utterly. Fucking. Meaningless.

You know, if you really want to, to keep you safe from terr’rists and paedos and suchlike, we could make a car powered by mystery meat with all the powerplant and controls and drivetrain all welded shut, factory only access, hell, rolls royce did it back in the day, but the weak link in the chain is still YOU and the door and ignition keys that YOU hold, and do not secure adequately.

You want to live in a fucking technological world where shit like t’internet and telephones and computers just work, mainly… well you have to have a bunch of guys like me wandering around with the tools we need to do the job, and those tools are going to grant me access to all sorts of data.

One of our “clients” is a place that deals with vulnerable youth, deals with as in houses them, I turn up at one site last week and the person who answers the door remembers my face from another one of their sites that I visited previously, now THAT is authentication and security… I know this man.

I’m not going to go all Cryptome on your asses, that is Bruce’s job and he does it excellently, but the fact is, as the title says, 99% of people are too dumb to be allowed anywhere near the internet.

Back in 2000 there was a story doing the rounds, I have always liked it, some bitch calls Dell technical support, the poor bastard on the end of the line spends 45 minutes going through shit, or trying to, with this dumb bitch, so he eventually asks her a question, madam, do you still have the boxes the computer came in? Oh yes, she says, well that’s great says the support droid, I need you to pack the computer up and send it to us, oh, she says, is it that serious, oh yes he says, so what is the problem she says, what do I tell them when I send the computer back, and he says tell them you are too fucking stupid to use a computer.

http://faildesk.net/

Comments (2)

January 18, 2014

So, how do you cope with a wimminz…

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: Black Betty, weather forecast — wimminz @ 1:51 pm

…without going insane?

Let’s say you’re a man, and you have three separate friends, Tom, Dick and Harry.

One night you’re talking to Tom, and he says to you, hey, how about we hang out next weekend? You say OK, what are we going to do? Tom says he doesn’t know, let’s just hang out and see what’s what, you agree.

You spend the next week thinking about things you and Tom could do, there is a bike show in this town, there is an electronics expo in that town, or you could both do a road trip to go see Dick, or you could just hang out at yours and listen to music and shoot the shit and grab a few beers.

You drop a dime on Dick, hey, me and Tom are hanging out this weekend, we might come up and see ya, is that cool or are you busy?

Meantime, Harry drops you a line, you fancy helping him move his boat this weekend, sorry Harry, already made plans to hang out with Tom, maybe we can both come and help, maybe we are going to take a road trip to see Dick, maybe we are just going to hang out.

Dick and Harry are both factoring everything you have said into THEIR plans for next weekend, and of course YOU are factoring everything Tom said into your plans, you are putting some things in the to do list, like maybe go see Dick, while passing up other opportunities, like go help Harry.

This is all OK, y’all are guys, there is only one of you and so many hours in the day, and basically you work it out between you.

Mean while, back in the real world, along comes Jane.

Now Jane ain’t Tom, or Dick, or Harry, nor is she anything like them, Jane is more like the weather.

The weather forecast for next weekend says it is gonna be fucking cold, and stormy, not ideal for a road trip or moving a boat, but the thing about the weather is you have to wait and see until the day, you can’t make plans.

Jane is like the weather, what she says she will do is right, or close enough to right, JUST OFTEN ENOUGH for you to listen to the next thing she says she will do, or the next weather forecast.

Jane is NOT like Tom, Dick and Harry, what they say they will do is right, like a train timetable is right, sure, sometimes due to unforeseen circumstances you get last minute delays and cancellations, but even then, you know they are working 24/7 to TRY to keep to the timetable, and the timetable itself, well that is trustworthy enough you trust keeping your job to it, or meeting your plane to it, or anything else that involves the fact that you have put a significant amount of trust into it, so if that trust fails to materialise the hardships you suffer as a consequence are also significant.

You see the FUNDAMENTAL difference here.

Tom, Dick & Harry feel OBLIGATED to come through on whatever it was they said they would do, and if they cannot, they feel bad, they let you know as soon as possible, and most of all they apologise, and mean it.

Most of all, because you and Tom and Dick and Harry discussed all this shit, you will discuss any changes and try to reach some consensus, where everyone still know what is going down, you do NOT unilaterally change YOUR plans, and then NOT bother telling Tom, or Dick, or Harry, they will figure it out when you ain’t where you said you would be…

Jane is like the weather, sure, you were expecting a sunny day, and made plans to go to the beach and all, but what you get on the day is what you get, and she ain’t gonna tell you, after all you’ll know soon enough when the rain starts falling.

Frog and Scorpion, you can’t change wimminz nature.

Your problems only start when you forget that.

If Jane suggests spending the weekend bouncing up and down on your cock, well, that would be nice, as would a sunny and warm day in winter, but if you bet on it, you’re a fool.

On the day, Jane is either going to turn up or she ain’t, and if she does, you are either going to be there or you ain’t… No PLANS mother-fucker, no timetable, no WEIGHT given to stated intentions.

Treat Jane like the weather, be prepared to take advantage of the warm and sunny day in winter, when you wake up that morning and find it warm and sunny, but do not under any circumstances place *any* weight in advance on that being a warm and sunny day.

Do not in any way base your decisions or actions or plans the preceding week on the basis that you are hoping for some warm and sunny weather, and have any expectations AT ALL of it coming to pass.

The bird in the hand, eg don’t pass up a blow job now from a 3 in the belief that the 6 who had made firm plans (which have been confirmed every day for the past two weeks) to spend all weekend worshipping your cock will actually show.

=============================================

There is a down side to this of course, if you treat Jane like this, instead of like a blue pill niggerz, Jane may decide she prefers someone else, in which case I will ask you what you have lost, yeah, you lost the chance to get the jackpot prize of 1,000 bucks you were after for your gratification, but you also lost the pain of paying 100 bucks a week for 12 weeks to be eligible for the draw.

The other down side is Jane respects you for it, and starts making amends, and efforts to improve the quality and accuracy of the weather forecast she gives you, while accepting your refusal to make firm plans based on a weather forecast.

The issue with this second downside may be unexpected to you, you won’t be able to look at Jane and see the same person you saw back when you treated her weather forecasts with equal weight as the train company timetable.

This metamorphosis in YOU is talked about a lot in the manosphere, but I don’t actually think any of them either really get it, or the implications.

We talk about swallowing the red pill, not being able to un-see things we have seen, not being able to un-ring a bell.

None of these things are an EPIPHANY, and that is what I am talking about, and that is what you NEED, you need an epiphany to see that Jane is a weather forecast, and Tom and Dick and Harry are train company timetables.

There is a slut 45 minutes drive away from me, she is a 3, but she will do anything I want, no limits, none fucking whatsoever, anything and everything I want, on demand, and call me sir and master and my lord while she does it.

So I sit here on a Saturday morning and I haven’t had my balls drained, and the fact is, she can drain them a lot better and a lot more pleasurably than I can by having a wank, and just out of arms reach is my mobe, and all I have to do is pick it up and text the bitch.

I haven’t.

I won’t

*if* the weather blows that way and she contacts me, I’ll think about it, but the moment may well have passed by then, probably will have, in truth.

This is not the effects on not being able to un-see something, this is a post epiphany perspective, I can never see this bitch, or any other skank ho slut, the same way, ever again.

I mourn this, but I cannot change it.

So Jane, post epiphany, ceases to be a fellow human being like Tom and Dick and Harry, someone I can have meaningful communications with, and make plans with, and rely on… instead Jane is reduced to utility, she isn’t CAPABLE of loving me or respecting me or considering me etc etc etc, in the way that I or Tom or Dick or Harry are capable of doing those things for her.

So, what’s the point in me doing those things for her?

Absolutely none at all.

Sure, she can “comfort” me, the way the sun warms my back, but it doesn’t love me just because it warms my back, so I use the word “comfort” in exactly the same way the Jap’s referred to “comfort women” for the troops.

None of those guys thought those wimminz actually loved them or cared for them or gave a shit about them or had their back, but, they could give them comfort.

Jane can tell me she loves me and worships me and wants to spend the rest of her life under my total control, but coming from a weather forecaster and not a train timetabler, that isn’t such a fantastic gift, even if it does actually turn up on the day.

I have no way of knowing if it will come to pass in 150 days time, any more than I am able to say in 150 days time it will be hot and sunny and dry and yummy.

Since I plan on being around and alive in 150 days time, I can do no more than wait and see.. literally, I can NOT DO ANY MORE THAN WAIT AND SEE… ain’t gonna be placing any weight or bets on that.

Sure, it will be “nice” if it comes to pass, but not great, not fantastic, not mind blowingly amazing, not the earth moved beneath my feet.

So Obama wins the election, Germany wins the world cup, Schumacher wins the paralympics, Digital Dirk Bogarde wins 27 oscars, and why should I give a shit, outside of hysteria, which is what all sports and media and politics is, really…. vesting interest and weight into something that may or may not come to pass.

And as if when it does come to pass, the real reality will be a sodden damp squib, compared to the megaton Ivan that was hyped up in order to get me to make that emotional investment.

I got another “female” in my life, that in reality means as much to me as Jane ever will, Black Betty (bam a lam..lol) and Black Betty is a bobber, Black Betty was a bobber before there was such a thing as a bobber. (BB ain’t an HD btw)

Black Betty came about by taking stuff away from a street motorsickle until there was nothing non essential left, and then taking some more away, and playing with and altering everything else.

Black Betty only ever had one seat and one set of foot-pegs.

Black Betty only has any value at all to me because she is my property.

(and no, I’m not getting side-tracked into some list about why motor-sickles are better than wimminz…lol.. you can do that yourselves)

I’m sentimental about Black Betty, but not overly so, I ain’t gonna be throwing good money after bad, and one day she will be no more than scrap.

Black Betty is the old farmers cow, when she ain’t milking no more it’s time for the chop, cos you ain’t eating all my grass for no return. He loves his cows, but not that much they cost him money.

Jane is Black Betty, made flesh.

I got no use for the bitch any way except;

casual no strings cum-bucket like the one 45 minutes drive away.
my property, for me to control and use any way I see fit.

One or the other, that’s it.

All your appeals to my better nature, to be my friend, my confidant, my lover, my partner, a fellow human being, or appeals that how can I see these poor blameless wimminz and children starving and homeless, well, I don’t got no better nature no more.

I had an epiphany.

That’s like asking me to sell Black Betty so I can raise some money and go spend it giving new paint jobs to wrecks that are already stacked 5 high in the scrapyard.

20/20 hindsight is a wonderful thing, my ex-wife who cheated on me with the lodger while I was in the slammer, hey, I don’t mind the cheating, I wasn’t there to fuck her, stands to reason someone else will be, but it was the rest of her poisonous personality that burned my ass… all came to a head one day, and I was still riding milwaukee back then, so she says to me 3 days before my birthday, cos she was pissed at the shovel being in the dining room while I rebuilt it, she was about done by this stage, only chains and sprockets left, she says to me that I got to choose between her and the bike, so three days later on my birthday I saddle the fucker up and take off, get back to the UK ten months later to find she had filed divorce papers on me, my reaction, sure, as long as the divorce don’t cost me one single penny, I’ll sign.

20/20 hindsight tells you the epiphany was a long fucking time coming, bit like a dam that has been leaking small amounts for years, then one day the whole thing lets go, “without warning”, except the years of lack of maintenance and small leaks *were* warnings, they were just ignored.

20/20 hindsight tells you to this day you couldn’t pick a single tiny thing and say this here was the keystone event, exclude this one thing and it would never have happened, no single straw was unique enough to break the camel;’s back… you just have two era’s in your life, pre-epiphany and post-epiphany.

The world hasn’t changed one iota, YOU have, you now know the difference between a train timetable and a weather forecast, and they now occupy utterly different and mutually exclusive niches in your life.

And all the king’s horses, and all the king’s men, can’t put the two together again.

Comments (4)

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Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

January 28, 2014

The nature of things.

January 26, 2014

Madame Guillotine

January 25, 2014

January 24, 2014

The make-your-own-paedo kit

January 22, 2014

Despicable moi

Lamborghini Cuntach

January 19, 2014

Accumulated fuckups.

Easyriders.

In Ceasar’s day, you’d have been chained to an oar.

January 18, 2014

So, how do you cope with a wimminz…

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