You’ve probably heard the talk, you can take it from me it is true, have seen it with my own eyes, the unbranded unlabelled unidentified yes they really are black, boxes, sitting right there on the backbone for at least three of the major backbone / network providers.
These boxes can potentially tap into anything and everything they are connected to, which essentially means they can for all practical purposes tap into 100% of network traffic, irrespective of source, destination or protocol.
I had this discussion with someone, they were saying GCHQ is in reality no different to, for example, Google, in their ability to slurp data.
I conceded the point, even though it isn’t factually correct, for the sake of argument, and countered with this;
“Yeah buddy, give me a call when Google operate their own police force, courts, prisons and control all the laws in the country I reside in….”
And that really is the point.
Google are not going to make a case on incomplete data, because the fact is these boxes and what they are connected to CANNOT store everything that passes by for a number of years, that is like building a fucking great lake on a river, what they are is a bridge across the river that you can drop nets or buckets anywhere you like, or sluice gates to divert flow, so chances are the data is incomplete, in effect, call records, you sent 2 emails to Mr X, and Mr X sent two emails to you, we no longer have the content, or the greater context in which they were sent, and since WE now know Mr X is a crazed raghead paedo terr’rist, 2 + 2 = 22, so you muct be one toooooo… haul his ass off to jail, via court and a “fair” trial… har de har…
Today BT, who are one of the telco’s hosting these black boxes, changed their system, if you want to access, for example, a perfectly legal swinging site, you must call them and ask for the adult filters to be turned off.
You just made the first prong of the case against you, you DELIBERATELY sought access to whatever it was at some point in the future, say, Mr X’s blog.
I proved this point some years ago to some stuck up assholes, they were convinced that only those who have something to hide etc.
I created a small web page, in that page I embedded photo… this is it.
It is the album cover from Scorpions, Virgin Killer, I bought this when it came out in a record shop in London, in fact it was the first Virgin Megastore.
Now, strictly according to the letter of the law, this is an obscene image of child pornography, but then so are the pics of my kids naked at bath-time etc, given that this was an actual album cover on sale in the UK and legally bought, and given that the purpose of putting it here is for example, not sexual gratification, you’re actually pretty safe.
The point was, when you loaded this particular blog page, you click a link, you don’t know the actual content BEFORE you click the link.
However, in law, just because of the way your computer and the internet works, you just “made” another copy, stay on this page with the firefox reload page plugin set to 6 seconds and you are, in law, “making” 10 kiddie porn images an minute, or 600 an hour, and that is all the newspaper headlines will read.
SICK PERV MADE 600 VILE KIDDIE PORN PICS PER HOUR!!!!
But, things being what they are, at least you can see the fucking image, even if you got tricked into downloading it, so you can flush your temporary internet files after navigating away from this blog page, and you should be safe enough. (except for GCHQ knowing you visited this page 600 times an hour)
But, what I did in the example I am talking about was not displaying an image with an original size of for example 1024 x 768 at a page size of 512 x 380, no, what I did was take an original image that was 800 x 600 pixels, and displayed it at 1 x 1 in the page.
It looked like this.
The “this” being, specifically, “.” the period / full stop that came after “this”
In that scenario, nobody knew they had download the image, nevertheless, they had, therefore, legally, they had “made” it also.
They only knew when I published the full size image, and told them to look in their browser cache / temporary internet files for it by name… then they found it…. then they got seriously pissed off… at ME…
Of course, any seekrit black box sitting on the backbone that can dip into absolutely any traffic and look and see what is there, can also dip into traffic and alter it, either by simply re-routing it as in last weeks major BGP routing hack that sent a bunch of USA guvvmint traffic on a long trip via Iceland before going back to the USA mainland, or, by altering it or injecting content into it.
Is this gonna be your defence, Mr Nobody? That you did not do X, that you are in fact innocent, so it must have been done by the black boxes, that legally do not exist, in an effort to frame you…?
These are two things that, in my experience, are either universally ignored completely, or universally analysed in such a way that the only numbers that ever come out are totally unrealistic best case scenario numbers.
The thing is, these two things, I’ll call them IC and AC, apply to *everything*… even wimminz.
Let’s take a really simple example, you have a 5 year old Dell laptop with an old core2duo, and you move to a newer Stinkpad with i5. Sticker price on the stinkpad is 950.
OK, now before we go down that road, let’s press pause, and look at something else as a thought experiment.
Guy has a rifle, let’s say an AR15, and 1,000 rounds of ammo.
Does he own the rifle, which is a treasured and loved and customised device to better throw those 1,000 rounds downrange
Does he own 1,000 rounds, and the rifle is the method used to get them downrange
These are, in reality, two separate tasks / jobs / approaches.
It becomes interesting when you ask a gun owner a simple question, which none of them every know off the top of their head, how many rounds do you have to fire downrange to expend the same amount of money as it costs to purchase the gun?
This isn’t a dig at gun owners, you can ask the exact same fucking question of a car owner and gallons of fuel, the question is how many units of consumables equal the capital cost of the thing.
It’s interesting, because if you can’t answer that, you don’t even have the basis for guessing at your IC and AC.
Let’s pop back to the guns, Bob buys an AR15 for 800 bucks, Jim buys one for 1,600 bucks by the time it’s tricked out…. they both buy 1,000 rounds of Winchester ammo, say a buck a pop if they 20 or 50 at a time, (say .50c a pop if they buy the whole load in one go.)
Bob = gun for $800 + ammo $1,000 = $1,800
Jim = gun for $1,600 + ammo $1,000 = $2,600
Bob sees his rifle as nothing more than a tool to get his 1,000 rounds downrange.
Jim sees his rifle as a personalised top quality yadda yadda to get his 1,000 round downrange.
Sam, says to Bob and Jim, right after they have bought their respective rifles, y’all have a budget of two grand total, now go buy ammo at a buck a pop.
Bob has 1,200 rounds
Jim has 400 rounds
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People used to take the piss out of me because I would quite happily pay cash and buy a car for 700 notes, they would buy the 4k car on credit, but the point of a car is you pull up to a gas pump and feed it, and since I had no outgoings for the car finance I could feed it easier, so yeah, my car got less mpg than yours, but I could afford it…. I wasn’t paying HP
UNLIKE the gun analogy, the CAR analogy there is no ammo in a specific calibre, there is just a choice of petrol or diesel, but even so, IC and AC aren’t limited to just what ya paid for it and what ya sold it for.
If you have already taken out a loan to buy the 4k car, chances are your credit is maxed out, and you wouldn’t get another loan, whereas me buying a clunker for cash, I could in theory finance a loan.
Finally, before I get back to the Dell and the Stinkpad, I want to talk about rules and laws, we all have to live by them, but there is that grey area, as with all regulations, where doing something this way is an illegal act of tax avoidance, and doing something this way is a perfectly legal act of tax avoidance, and this doesn’t just apply to taxes, it applies to all laws and to all life.
I took advantage of one such grey area, I was ahead by 125 a week, every week, week in, week out, for seven months, but I made abso-fucking-lutely sure going in that not only was I not breaking any laws, but that nobody could argue that I was… IC and AC, the implementation cost of adopting a avoiding tax strategy may be quite minimal, just a signature on a piece of paper and a postage stamp, the abolition cost of getting out of that shit and back to where you started can be incredibly fucking high, if anyone things you avoided that tax illegally.
Yeah, y’all are way ahead of me here, IC and AC as applied to marriage.
Except you’re NOT fucking way ahead of me here.
Because IC and AC applies to everything, and by the time you get to marriage you are already stood in the middle of the fucking minefield, and at THAT point you learn the true nature of IC and AC, the mines know which direction leads deeper into the minefield, they don’t trigger on anything moving that way…..
You were NOT lucky to get this far, intact. You were a dumb shit.
You just racked up a ton of IC, blind, and as for the related AC, that’s going to be a bitch. Bend over and grab those ankles. Lube? Fuck that, this is supposed to make you bleed and cry.
OK, still, with me, now we can get on with the old Dell core2duo upgrade to Stinkpad i5. This was / is a computer literate person, who is the go to guy for friends and family when they have pc probs…. this is a guy who is happy to type ipconfig /all in the winders command line and doesn’t need books or websites to prompt him to do it or to interpret the results…. and who knows all about coffer.com
THe only thing you need to know about this deal was that the guy wouldn’t be able to get the stinkpad before he got rid of the dell, which wasn’t a problem, as be bought an external usb3 portable hard disk, and not only copies all the working files and data from the software he uses most on to this disk, he also uses the rather good Windows Easy Transfer tool, which he has used dozens of times before, to create a transfer file on this hard disk.
He wipes the dell HD and installs Suse and off it goes, he sits back and waits for the stinkpad to arrive.
At this point he thinks he has his IC and AC managed.. he doesn’t, he just doesn’t know this yet…. each *thing* in your life has a separate and unique IC and AC, just like an individual company, and he has not only not realised this, he has compounded the problem by taking the AC for the dell and putting it towards the IC for the stinkpad, and in doing so he has transposed the sign, so instead of a cost for abolishing the dell he has taken the money he is getting by selling it, and offsetting that against the purchase cost of the stinkpad, and he thinks the purchase cost of the stinkpad IS the fucking IC. It isn’t.
Next morning at 8:30 am the DHL man drops off the new stinkpad, he unboxes it, it looks perfect in every way, exactly what he wanted, then the problems start, of course, he does not realise that these are really problems with IC and AC.
That evening he has called me in, for a coffee and some help.
NOTHING has gone according to plan, his problems are just starting.
The wiki page says WET doesn’t support moving from 64 bit windows to 32 bit windows, I got news for you, it doesn’t support going from 32 bit to 64 bit either.
Other shit he didn’t figure on is 4 of the applications he paid for and used daily on the dell will not continue to work on the stinkpad, because they were older 32 bit versions, and to get the 64 bit versions he has to pay to upgrade, and I am not talking 20 bucks a pop, put em together and we are at about 50% of the sticker price on the stinkpad.
Other shit he didn’t figure is one of his hardware peripherals, they don’t do updated 64 bit drivers for that kit, y’all have to buy the new kit, that’s about 50% of the sticker price of the stinkpad too.
Now, these are the headline grabbers, there is no guarantee whatsoever that if I can decompress and process the WET archive to make it 64 bit compatible there will not be other issues elsewhere.
I told him, matey, you have two real choices, we can wipe the stinkpad and put Win7 32 bit pro on there, which means you wasted all that money on the kingston RAM upgrade too, which just landed, or, you can bite the fucking bullet, I’ll patch across the WET files, and you’ll have to upgrade all this app software, and we can run the old external hardware temporarily in a VM but it will not be seamless with the rest of the OS.
Either way, you are looking at 2 or 3 hours of MY time, which you get to pay for too.
He bit the bullet, guys have this ability, he said I’ll pay you the full fucking day, do your stuff with the WET and the VM, and spend the rest of the time teaching me where I went wrong.
That was back in February this year.
He has just been in touch, his employers are moving everything into the cloud with chrome boxes, he tried to talk to them, telling them the lessons I had taught him, they didn’t listen, I said swing by my place, I’ll loan you a pair of wire cutters, you can place them over the net connection cable and look at them meaningfully… lrfh
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Integration cost and abolition cost.
When dealing with wimminz, treat every single penny and second you spend as a complete write off the instant you spend it, other wise you will fall into the trap of throwing good money after bad, and signing yourself up for abolition costs that you really can not afford.
You’ll be a lot less keen to buy the bitch drinks to get laid, fill your tank to go see her to get laid, buy her flowers to get laid, lend her a 20 to get laid, etc etc etc.
So, there was a funeral in the morning, a small crew of attendees wearing rented Elvis gear, a surreal moment at the service when at the warm up, the last track played was an Elvis track, just not like the other Elvis tracks, this was Elvis Costello, I don’t wanna go to chelsea.
Quite funny really, especially as Jim’s skank ho ex was called Elsie.
Last night was bizarre too, it felt more like being in a first person RPG than walking down actual streets, I guess satire and marketing jumped the shark when lots of stuff in real life is more unreal than lots of stuff in video life.
So breakfast (coffee and smokes) this morning is a bunch of guys dressed like Elvis, all of whom work in IT, all of whom have at some point failed the modern security clearances to work on certain government / education / police contracts, not because they were security risks, but because they weren’t nice blank sheets of paper and had actually done some bad things at some point in their lives, or been near those who had, or been accused of it by “people” like Elsie, discussing the debacle of the guy who was security vetted so well nobody noticed either his criminal record or the FACT HE COULD NOT EVEN FUCKING SIGN before standing him literally in arm’s reach of Obama for Mandela‘s funeral.
The whole morning, and the service itself, went like that, if anyone else had been invited I am positive they would have said it was totally disrespectful, but the fact is if Jim had been there he would have been participating in every single one of those conversations, and the only moment of doubt I suffered was last night when one of the other guys tried to start a bar tab in Jim’s name, “he’ll be along in a minute…” LRFH
Anyway for one reason or another one of the lads asked about my sex life, oho yet another one kicked to the kerb is it, and they picked up on something I hadn’t, there has been a series of these the last couple of years, and, from one perspective, you could say I fucked them all up.
From that perspective, to not fuck them up, or at least to not fuck them up at that time and place, all I had to do was keep my fucking mouth shut, but when you don’t do that, when you adopt a louder and more forceful tone and do a whole WTF, that is outrageous, that you should do that, and that you should expect me to just buy it… they all got fucked up.
I hadn’t actually made the connection, it was always after I called them on their shit, my problem apparently is I do so in such a way, with logic and reason, that it doesn’t give a way out for creatures who simply will not ever admit to fucking up, much less atoning for their actions or personally bearing the consequences of them.
There then followed a bunch of discussion about whether I was really a callous bastard who seized upon such moments to GTFO while the going was still good and you’d had all the best that that particular wimminz could offer, or whether I was really an autistic bastard who didn’t even know what he was doing… at the time…
Y’all aren’t allowed to smoke inside in the UK no more, so it was after this I’m outside for a smoke, and there is this young chick there, seen her hear us inside so she doesn’t have to ask what’s with the elvis shit or funeral talk etc, “to Jim, cheers” etc she has overheard it all.
Now, at any other time I’d have fucked the ass off her, youth has a certain beauty all its own, but my mind isn’t really on that as it isn’t possible, so with no warning at all she walks over to me and gives me a big kiss on the cheek and a hug and says what we are doing is so sweet… takes a final drag on her smoke, throws it to the ground and starts to walks away.
I say hey girl, what gives, and there she is, all of 19 or so, and gives me the saddest smile, and she says if a woman dies can you imagine a bunch of her friends desssing up as Madonna just because she was a huge fan, and having a night out to celebrate her? and she walks away into the night and the sodium light… I finished my smoke, went back in, and forgot all about it, then there is teh service and blah de blah and we go our separate ways, and I’m sitting in the train writing this on the tablet, because I can’t get what that girl said out of my head.
Other times, other funerals, other wimminz, all I can remember is them wanting to play dress up, and I don’t mean Tina Turner, I mean LBD and heels and make up and hair do, and that little girl is right, I just can’t imagine the fuckers doing what we did, all I can see is vicars and tarts, and hen nights, and a big gap, and other dead wimminz, like my grandmother, who was a battleaxe bitch, but who remained a single widow for 30 years and only ever wore black as a widow, and that shit has gone forever.
See, I have this policy, you can more or less sum it up thus;
I meet you, and you’re a blank slate, what gets written there depends upon you.
I will learn what you teach me by your actions.
If there is a difference between your words and your actions, your actions carry the weight, and your words become worthless.
I have had some chats with a few people about a couple of recent posts, the dichotomy between what wimminz do this week, and what they said last week.
To be fair, in my experience, in a lot of cases this isn’t actual malice per se, what happens is this;
The wimminz says something to you
The wimminz does something different
The wimminz realises / remembers you go by the first set of numbers above in blue
The wimminz feels awkward, and so, like a small child, rather than face up to it they turn away and pretend to ignore the source of the shame, you, for having standards.
Eventually, possibly, after enough time has passed she will talk to you again.
If you are thinking spoiled 4 year old child, you pretty much have it nailed.
The “problem” here is that when you have someone like most men, who work according to the blue text, and you mix it with wimminz, who work according to the pink text, it is pretty much only a matter of time until the two crash into each other and she invokes option 4.
What you guys have to realise is you can’t make this work, I *used* to express my policy as “I don’t give a fuck how you treat other people, only how you treat me” but the problem with that policy is the assumption that this wimminz is going to treat you differently than she has treated everyone else…. leopards and spots spring to mind.
If you are either unlucky, or stupid, you find yourself in the place I was what is several years ago now, in a relationshit with a wimminz, where there were enough ties that she couldn’t really do #4, or she instead chose secret item 4a, which isn’t written anywhere, which is to hurt you for making her feel shame.
That’s when you start down the road to false accusations of domestic violence, sexual abuse and rape.
Nota Bene, it can be a third party that prevents her taking option 4, doesn’t matter, you are still the source of her angst.
So at this point you either wise up, or you don’t.
If you wise up then you realise that there is absolutely nothing you can do, or not do, to remedy or change the situation one iota, nor was there anything you could have done to prevent it, except perhaps having no standards whatsoever and accepting anything and everything she did unquestioningly.
Never ever ever call pwincess out on her bullshit…
Of course this goes 100% against a man’s nature, which is to alter the environment to suit, he can’t resist meddling, but at some point in your life you just have to learn the lesson that there are some things that not only can NEVER be improved by meddling, but which are also ALWAYS made worse by meddling.
Wimminz be such a thing.
If she has always treated everyone like shit, she is gonna treat you like shit sherlock, and this is one of the reasons I always bail the instant I hear a wimminz say anything negative about any of her ex’s….
Fact is in some cases for whatever reasons I was able to know more than merely what she told me about the hated ex, eg I remember the newspaper mentioning the guy’s name and reporting on the fact he got thrown into prison for 3 years for beating the living shit out of her.
I got news for you, she fucking deserved it, no exceptions, and the only thing standing between you accepting that as fact, and you thinking she is gonna treat you different / better because, after all, you aren’t some low life thug scum, is time spent in her company.
Now I am not actually advocating or excusing violence against da wimminz, or anyone else, but the fact is when a person indulges in a persistent pattern of behaviour, in close proximity to and affecting another person, then the other person is affected by the first person’s behaviour… and depending on the behaviour of the first person that can indeed elicit a violent response from the second person.
I can make *anyone* completely fucking lose it and go postal on me, it’s easy, this is all you have to do
flick their ear hard
act contrite and promise never to do it again
wait 8 to 24 hours
go to #1
At that point it is just a question of iteration, sooner or later *everyone* will fucking lose it.
Here is something else I have observed.
These nasty ex’s who have lost it come in two categories.
The ones who now have criminal and prison records for violence against her, these always seem to be softer types that worked at keyboards or clerky sort of stuff…. generally they had a long relationship with the bitch before losing it one day and beating the crap out of them.
The ones who had a record before they met the bitch, these are the ones that slapped her upside the head the first time she stepped out of line.
If she has kids, and he never sees them, it tends to be by the first sort.
Now, I am not saying it is better to be the sort of guy who slaps the bitch upside the head at the first sign of disobedience, they are after all both losing strategies, but the guy who takes a lot of shit in silence before eventually breaking is the bigger loser of the two.
So it is worse to be the guy who suffers in silence, hoping one day she will change.
But, at least both of these guys got laid at some point, if you want to be a REAL fucking loser, all you have to do is be one of the niggerz who came running around to pwotect da pwintheth when she dropped a dime on these guys.
Why do you think they hate the other two classes of loser so much…. at least they got to dip their wicks in da pwincess…
Which all brings me to what this post is really about.
Do you do what I do, mainly avoid but select they prey and then pump and dump, or do you do what others do and go ghost and celibate?
Well, #1 you gotta be true to you, that is the biggie.
Frankly speaking, neither path offers significant advantages over the other when it comes to protecting yourself from future malicious false allegations…. the prosecution can make a case either way, and the bit you need to get is that the real damage starts at the point of allegation / accusation, when da police niggerz swing into action against your ass.
This is the point where things go hard or easy depending on whether or not you have been true to yourself. Principles, it’s a lot harder to railroad a guy who has been demonstrably living according to his own unique set.
Just like the skank who has always said one thing and done another, living by your principles, whether that be pump and dump or abstinence, does something very very important.
It builds a pattern of behaviour.
The best guide to both someone’s future actions and possible / probable past actions is to look at their pattern of behaviour, does whatever this thing is fit in with it, or not?
If it does, then it is probably true, if it doesn’t, then it probably isn’t.
I don’t want to say that is how I “beat” my FRA, because above all else it was a FALSE rape accusation, FALSE DV accusation, etc, but, these false allegations and accusations did not fit with the observable pattern of behaviour of my life.
This is a million miles away from saying that the observable pattern of behaviour of my life painted a picture of an exceptional and wonderful human being, on the contrary it painted a picture of someone pretty fucking ordinary when it came right down to it, full of the usual complement of flaws and weaknesses and frailties.
And there is the rub, if you take someone who has an observable pattern of being a gambling fool, but no history of violence, you have a hard job painting them as a violent thug.
People start to ask, if this guy has these tendencies that are so close to the surface, how come everything we can observe highlights all this other shit?
Why is there none of THIS shit? Did he just suffer a blow to the head, or some other explanation, for what is in effect an alleged change of personality?
If you are like me, and you like cunt, then trying to emulate someone who can just go ghost and celibate ain’t gonna sit right, look right, or feel right.
If you can do those things naturally, then more power to you.
If you can’t, then you need to do what I do, which is *attempt* to indulge them, while remaining true to your principles.
That doesn’t mean dating skank ho single mommies and ignoring all that bad shit because what you are really after is getting laid, that there, see, that is when you start doing shit that doesn’t fit.
If you end up on swinging / fucking sites where people are openly offering NSA sex, fairy nuff.
If you still can’t get that shit together, put away 25 a week and once a month drop a dime on a whore.
And here we come to the really important part.
Starting to fuck whores isn’t a change in WHO YOU ARE, it is a change in WHAT YOU DO, the two are not necessarily the same thing.
You’re still fucking, you are paying cash directly now instead of indirectly, but you are still fucking, which is closer to what you used to do with the skanky ex than getting your fucking by hanging with a skank ho single mommy and her womb turds and playing beta step daddy. (assuming there were no step kids with the skanky ex)
What matters is you are still fucking, not that you are now paying cash for it.
What matters is you are still not hanging with other men’s kids, not that you’re only doing it because you are banging their mummy.
Yes, it’s subtle, but all the important aspects of human nature are, and subtle or not this is just the sort of shit we have evolved to notice and judge.
Take my mate Jim, now Jim has always been an Elvis asshole, and a mad on Elvis and insists on singing Elvis songs even though he can’t sing a fucking note to save his life asshole who insists on saying thangyaverymuch and uhhuh.
Jim went through a similar experience to me.
Nobody, and I mean nobody, buy’s her version of events, not even da po-lice who arrested him etc etc.
She took all his shit, all his LP’s posters rhinestone and you fucking name it, even cost him his job house and kids.
Jim still listens to Elvis, when da po-lice said we ain’t gonna charge you 15 months after arresting him he says thangyaverymuch and walks out the station, singing Men With Broken Hearts (an Elvis song) and so in many ways his life has changed utterly.
Jim now bangs whores once every six weeks, like clockwork, he tell’s em thangyaverymuch and sings She’s Not You as he walks away (another Elvis song)
Jim stuck to his principles, I wasn’t there, but apparently when the po-lice interrogated him as to the alleged rapes and domestic violence his answer was he didn’t do that, and when they pushed him he said he didn’t do that, because the King wouldn’t have done it.
I know maybe one person who actually gets where Jim is coming from, and he thinks Bob Marley was God, but *everyone* buys his story and n0t hers, because what he does is changed, but he is still who he always was, and that’s what counts with people.
Jim didn’t get shit on from a great height because he was an Elvis loving asshole, he got shit on because she was a worthless skank ho and the world is full of niggerz, so stopping being an Elvis loving asshole isn’t going to change anything…. except it will break that pattern of who Jim is, and at THAT point you might start to question what else about him you don’t know, or has changed.
I just got word, Jim died in hospital yesterday morning, heart attack, funeral is Saturday, asked if I can make it, said yeah, it’s only 200 miles, I was told 2 things.
1/ Don’t worry about dress, they’ve grabbed an Elvis costume in my size…
2/ Don’t tell his skank ho ex, this is a service for Jim’s mates only.
It would appear that those intangible and ever so subtle things, Jim’s principles, lasted longer than his heart.
or maybe I have some sort of genetic deformity that emits a secret pheromone, or maybe god just hates me.
I mean, otherwise, what are the chances, you know what I mean…
It is statistically improbable beyond the point of credibility or belief that mere bad luck on my part can account for me to spend fucking decades drifting through life, imagine a being walking amongst the teeming masses, and yet I have managed, so far, to completely and utterly fail to meet even one single wimminz who didn’t lie through her fucking teeth for a pass-time, and who said one thing yesterday and did something completely opposite today.
I mean, can you imagine something where you have a guy, and every single dog they have ever met bit them…. you’d start to get suspicious… maybe the guy is giving off “bite me” smells to the dogs…
And then you dig deeper, and find that guy has never met another guy who has had a different experience, sure, he has met a few who claimed different, and when you point out the puncture marks and scabs they claim Fido was just being playful and didn’t mean anything by it.
At what point are you going to stop and say, you know, maybe this guy isn’t the salient factor here, maybe we should be looking at these dogs.
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I chose dogs for a reason, the reason is that you can argue both sides of the coin, back in pre-history did early humans adopt early dogs and tame them, or did early dogs adopt early humans and tame them…. it’s a bit of a quandary, but either way we are now in a place where dogs are a man’s best friend overall, and vice versa.
Now, if human beings are just DNA‘s way of making more DNA, you can start to get into some interesting thought experiments.
Here are some;
1/ It is not necessary for DNA (or indeed RNA) that males and females get along all cosy like and everybody wins, in fact you can look at things like the life cycle of the Malaria disease, provided nobody loses so badly it affects the propogation of the Malaria, Malaria doesn’t give a fuck.
2/ Nor is it necessary in sexual reproduction for the two sexes to get along all cosy like as equals, in fact, I will challenge you to name a SINGLE species anywhere on the planet where this is true…. as long as reproduction takes place at a rate sufficient to sustain both evolution and population, all is good.
3/ Alpha males / pack leader was one way for a male to ensure continuation of his DNA, and the competition served evolution too, and then came speech, so it stands to reason that if speech were all Star Trek Vulcan and always 100% truthful / logical / accurate, at least when it came to matters of sexual reproduction, it wouldn’t work, the liar will win every time. Yes, this is your child.
4/ Genetically speaking, the evolution takes place in the male, XY and all that, and genetically speaking, a foetus is somewhere between a symbiote and a parasite on the host organism, so in evolutionary terms, the female needs something extra to make up for this, and that extra was to become a parasite to the male, and live off their effort…. Suddenly communication came in to play… Yes, this is your child.
5/ Genetically speaking, it is only in the last 150 years that the female stood *any* chance of being caught out in such a lie, humanity lived in small isolated groups that didn’t mix much, everyone in the community *was* a relative. It took the advent of the railway to provide enough mobility that a female could produce a child that clearly was *not* related to anyone in the village… Yes this is your child does not work when the child suddenly has brown eyes, or red hair, or dark skin.
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I touched on this yesterday, with the what will the wimminz really do thing.. but the point here is this.
Genetically and evolutionary wise, the last 150 years of technology and the ability to breed outside the local gene puddle is such a short time it isn’t even the blink of an eye.
Hell, it was only the invention of the chimney in the 1500’s which changed the way houses were built that permitted people to fuck in privacy, before that it was one big room…
Up until this time…
Far from the patriarchy being a privilege, it was the only possible way that you could sell a guy on the idea that he had to sit still and be a host to a parasite that lived off the fruit of his labours… and such labours were such a significant part of each man’s total output that the mere idea of any of them being stolen by a cuckold was serious, serious, shit.
As the Stones sang, the so called privileged patriarchy alpha male was in effect, from many many many viewpoints, no more than a beast of burden, and any so called male privilege that he got was in fact no more than the minimum you could possibly do to convince any beast of burden to stay harnessed to the yoke… no point being a plough horse if the wild ponies eat better, I want my fucking fresh yummy oats.
I see a wimminz lie to me, one week promising me the earth, next week I do not exist, bitch is doing me a fucking favour, she is showing me her inability to fulfil her end of the bargain and provide me with my fresh yummy oats every day, so I refuse to put on the harness and yoke and be the beast of burden.
Again, as I alluded to in the last piece, from the DNA perspective this sounds like an instant lose / lose proposition, but no, because now the wimminz are parasites on the state, and the state is putting men to the draft as beasts of burden.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
You know, I got a *lot* of shit for fucking a wimminz and her daughter, but honestly, get fucking real, you turn up in my presence with another adult female that is younger and more fertile than you, WTF do you think I am going to think? One thing I *do* know for sure is it ain’t *my* fucking daughter, so why should I not want to fuck it?
Seriously, where is the payoff for me for *not* fucking you both?
<crickets>
Sure bitch, *you* don’t like it, but to prevent it all *you* had to do was stay with the father, assuming you even knew who that was…. if you dump him you can’t complain if 20 years later some other random guy is as willing to fuck her as he is you.
But, to get back to the plot.
Instead of being parasites on individual men, or on small groups of related men, now wimminz be parasites on the State, and I fucking DEFY any of you to come up with a better definition for a creature that takes their entire life and gives nothing back but more of their own DNA other than a fucking parasite.
Men went from having a parasite that was at best carrying his own child, and at worst carrying his brothers or cousins child, either way there is a LOT of his DNA there, and he gets to see and influence that child throughout their growing years…. to the situation we now have, where the one person LEAST likely to be anywhere near their own DNA is the father, but, via the State, you still get to pay… and not just for your own personal parasite, in exchange for regular fresh oats, but as a social bill, and no oats in return.
For the parasite, the wimminz, there is no downside to all this, in fact it is win/win, now they can not merely have 5 kids by 5 fathers and maximise the DNA mixing, which is their role as host to the foetus, which, if male, will be the actual engine of evolution, but they can pull a train of 5 guys for each pregnancy, and let the most fertile sperm win.
The only downside to all this is the beast of burden, who is supposed to just carry on pulling that plough, not getting any fresh oats, and shut the fuck up, while also accepting that his *individual* role in that evolutionary DNA mixing lotto machine is minimised to the maximum extent possible.
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So the world as a whole is looking at the engine of everything, the ultimate host for all subsequent tiers of parasites, the working man, as a boiler, and they are pouring more and more coal under it and demanding ever greater volumes of steam and ever greater levels of superheat, because, you know, that is all parasites can do (Scorpion and Frog bro) and when rivets start creaking and seams start rumbling what do they do?
They pick up a hammer and start beating on the individual rivets and seams, and, to an extent, yeah, this can actually work, if you are a fucking lunatic with a death wish who is feeling very very fucking lucky.
Back in the day, in the old Board of Trade days when you were sitting your Chief Engineer exams, they used to throw in the odd not so trick question, to see if you were awake and thinking…. one of these questions was, “What steps to you take when the main steam line fractures?”
The answer was of course “The engine room steps… and fucking quickly.” Because 60 to 90 seconds later everything in the engine room is bathed in superheated steam, it’s not just dead, it is cooked and tender enough to fall off the bone.
If you suspected a boiler was getting near failure, you opened all the valves, dumped the hearth and aimed hoses at it to cool it down, ideally you did all that in a few seconds, and then took the fucking engine room steps or equivalent, and retired to a safe distance, and you did not return until the temperature inside the boiler was below boiling and the pressure was open to atmospheric.
You didn’t run up with a hammer and start trying to beat on the rivets and seams in question.
LETS ALL HAVE A BIG WAR.
Well, let’s look at that, we have a population of parasites, wimminz, and their parasites, kids, that have already vastly exceeded whatever resource consumption they could get directly from males as individuals.
So the situation evolved to the one we have today, where the required resources for the parasites are taken from the males en masse, socially, via the State.
And you think a big war, which of course means MALES going off and getting killed, which even further unbalances the situation, is going to solve anything???
The facts are that there is a direct correlation between the number of years a parasite, wimminz, stays in a monogamous relationshit with a single host, man, and the maximum number of womb turds she can produce, when you look at society as a whole.
Statistically speaking the catholics/jews/muslims/you name it in 40 year monogamous situations out-breed everyone else.
Simply because the individual males, hosts, responsible for that level of parasitic activity stand for it, they get fresh oats daily.
Sans the State, wimminz can *maybe* support 1 or possibly 2 kids, but it is a life of grinding hardship, and nothing is off limits, 2 dollar whoring is good… and this is a big maybe, most will abandon the kid or kill it, as they will already not have enough resources for themselves.
Expect lots of die offs, kids first…. if TSHTF
Nothing that involves silencing those creaking rivets and seams is a solution, it is a part of the fucking problem, at this point the solutions are not going to be pretty.
An engineer is someone who can look at doing nothing until the boiler blows and everyone is fucked, some time in the future, who knows when, keep kicking the can, or turning the spigot back from 110% to 40% for the foreseeable while repairs are made, and people start dying NOW in large numbers, and not see any real choice or difficulty.
It’s a thing, a wimminz says something to you, then some time later, and that time can be minutes or hours or days or weeks, sometimes months or years, they will do something that is UTTERLY at odds with that thing, for example, I have had wimminz wanting to spend the rest of their life with me, and a week later as far as I can tell they have been abducted by aliens and fallen off the planet.
We’ve all talked about the economy tanking, and we have all talked about wimminz being nowt more than sheeple consumers, but has anyone actually sat down and thought what will happen to creatures who can say one thing one week and do something utterly different the next, as/ when if the economy actually does tank?
I mean, really, what will they really do?
What will they do when something that is bigger and more powerful and even more callous than them, the economy, treats them the way they have been treating men?
I have had a few people talk to me about my job, they talk about the down sides, really not much money for what it is, should pay at least triple, lots of driving, not many perks because you’re always on the road to some new place, and yet a lot of it is the same old same old.
I tell em, yeah, sure, you can find all sorts of fault, but at the end of the day it is a job, it does cover my bills, it suits me, and what the fuck, I’m in my fifties.
What other fucking job am I gonna get? Nobody is queueing up to hire deadbeat dads less than a decade away from the pension book.
My fucking career, and being realistic most of my life, is fucking BEHIND me, hope ya had a good ride, cos all those boats sailed.
It’s an attitude guys get.
Wimminz?
Not so you’d notice.
I know one skank with rug rats, she is off to college to get the sort of qualifications she should have gotten at 16, so she can then go to university for 4 years, so she can then get a job working with kids.
Never mind the fact she HAS fucking kids that are being neglected, never mind the fact that all this depends on state largesse and live now pay later student loans, never mind that even if all these ducks line up just so, she is gonna wind up newly qualified with zero experience in her fucking forties, and with a fucking mountain of debt behind her, and unless the Bernanke QE bucks keep flowing the state won’t be able to employ her or anyone like her, those roles will go.
My job may not be all that, but at least it was financially viable from day one, I didn’t have to go out and front 10k for a franchise or tools or a vehicle or any shit, eg it always was above (in aircraft terminology) above stall speed.
What’s more, even though my original trade was proper engineering, it’s not a huge leap to computers and shit, and anyway, I made that leap 25+ years ago, so 95% of my “learning” on this job was learning the company specific SOP and paperwork and shit.
Contrast with this wimminz, yeah I’ll just buy Concorde on a lease contract, when all the signs are that everyone else is looking for a prius with wings, and because of the debt it’s no good flying passengers so I’ll be flying bitcoins to Hong Kong, not that ANYTHING I have done in life to date can be counted as experience towards this… what the fuck could possibly go wrong.
So the skanky cunt can wake me up with a blowjob every morning last week, and act like I don’t exist this week, and carry on living the way she was.
But how the fuck is that gonna work when YOU HAVE NO FUCKING JOB OR SAVINGS, you live in a house provided by the state, you go shopping with money provided by the state, your current “shoulda learned that shit by 16” college course is provided by the state, and the only way you’re gonna get that 4 year degree is if all that keeps up, PLUS you take on a massive state supported student debt.
How the fuck are you gonna act like none of that exists next week and just carry on? When the state goes bust and can no longer pay for some or all of it? The fucking state ain’t gonna walk away and say cya bitch, and leave you to carry on your life, that three bedroom state provided house they can rent to some cunt like me, and if they MUST provide you with some shelter a one bedroom flat for you and your two womb turds will have to do.
I am serious here, what will these skanky cunts do?
They ain’t giving up the fucking Sky movies and internet package, something I don’t have (OK, I don’t want it, but these triple play deals cost a lot, you’re talking 50 quid a month MINIMUM, nearer 75 or 90) even though I am working, I ain’t got a fucking tassimo machine either, or pets, etc etc.
But then I DO have a fucking credit balance in my bank account and walking around cash in my wallet and all my fucking bills paid and zero debt.
*THIS* is why I said in earlier posts that the awe and amazement I feel when a wimminz just suddenly acts like I no longer exists never really wears off on me, because life fucking ain’t like that.
I know it HAS been, with the funneling of resources to wimminz by the state, but if the wheels are falling of that wagon, what will the wimminz really do?
I think those of us expecting to be able to pick and choose between wimminz offering all three holes sex + your ironing done + a sammich made are in for a shock.
Frog and the Scorpion.
It ain’t in the bitches nature to go quietly into that good night. Scorpions don’t do that…
Ghost? Maybe, if that means you are living in a cave 50 miles hike from the nearest trail, and you don’t have *anything*, not even bog roll or clothes.
More likely they kick up shit and one day I get a knock on my door and they tell me I am a perfectly good white boy with one whole room in my accoms devoted to my machine tools and motorsickle, and another devoted to my computers and giant screen tee vee, so that’s TWO po’ white nigga skank ho’s and their womb turd y’all be having moving in, and you can fucking feed them too… and if’n I don’t like it then big daddy state can just make sure I don’t get 8 hours a day peace to myself at work, I kin have a NEW fucking job, and since I won’t be earning money I’ll be homeless, but there is this pad with two white nigga skank ho’s and their womb turds and a newly unemployed and homeless white boy, who looked at lot like you, and they need a house nigga, in what is now THEIR house, and you it.
May not be as bad as that, but when I ask what will these skanks do, I’m not thinking they are gonna cry and start selling access to their cunts at 5 cents per day, I’m thinking they are gonna fucking freak.
The ONLY thing I can see them forgetting, like they forget I exist from one week to the next, is all the fucking years they had it made, and still never put shit away for a rainy day or tried to break the cycle.
You see, while it may be true that there are more dyed in the wool red pillers who have been through the mill of the wimminz more than me…
It is also true that despite this vast experience, I have never quite managed to completely throw off the feeling of WTF when I see wimminz number 45,654,837 exhibiting exactly the same characteristics as all those that went before.
It is not so much that I have problems learning the lesson, more that I have problems accepting that the wimminz will never either learn the lesson or evolve into something more honourable than pond scum.
It is, in short, a never ending source of awe and wonder for me.
Will these worthless cunts truly never learn, will they truly, to the last one, charge at full speed like lemmings into the wall and rebound into the catfood aisle?
Which begs the question, if a dyed in the wool red piller like me has problems truly accepting and internalising it to the point where there is no longer any shadow of WTF at yet another bug trying to fly through the windscreen at 70 mph, how the fuck are the young guys and blue pillers supposed to cope?
Fact is we can’t expect it, we can only hope for the best, while watching the slow motion train wreck, which pretty much depends on young guys NOT getting it until they have been bitten by several scorpions…. it is a fucking harsh reality.
Harsh realities are becoming my speciality lately, fuck it, if Albert E could do them, I think I am entitled.
I was chatting to a skanky ex last night, somehow we got onto the subject of me meeting Mrs Right…. I told her…
What you wimminz never appear to get, it’s like this, some wimminz sits down at the table and I have to tell her, before she opens her mouth, I have met and known hundreds of wimminz before her, and ultimately they all stung the frog, so the fact is there is sweet fuck all that she can say to me that I have not heard before, so what does that leave as options?
She simply didn’t get it, her only answer is NAWALT, which is exactly what I just said doesn’t fucking exist, or if it does, I have never seen any sign of it, which is the same thing, pink elephant.
*I* didn’t fuck it up for this latest wimminz to sit down at the table, all her sistahs did, and judging solely by my experience to date, they didn’t fuck it up for her either, cos she is just the fucking same.
Tell me why I should take ownership of, or responsibility for, this problem.
Lovely mental image from something posted on another forum.
I’ll level with you, just for the sake of experimentation, more than fucking once, I have had something steady going where the skank promises me everything, including eternal fidelity and obedience and loyalty, and it’s been OK, and I get this nagging itch, and so I say, just once, “I love you”
Of course I don’t, fact is I don’t even think I know what love is anymore, it’s just three words and eight letters, devoid of meaning.
But, every fucking time I have done it that “relationshit” has self destructed within 7 days, and I have gone from a wimminz who pledged everlasting loyalty and obedience to a wimminz who wouldn’t even respond to a text, blanked, dead, I fell off the face of the earth.
Hello Mr Frog, meet Miss Scorpion.
There is literally no limit to the disparity between what a wimminz will say to you one week, and how she will act the next or previous week in real life, it is beyond fucking bizarre.
How do you convince a young guy that literally every sound that will ever come out of a wimminz mouth, without exception, will sooner or later be proven to have little or no connection to reality.
Actually this also applies to literally every word that ever comes from a wimminz hand too.
So what do you do with scorpions when you are a frog?
Pretty much the only thing you can do that will work is make them property with literally zero rights, but there is fuck all chance of that this side of a total collapse because there is always some niggerz cunt all too willing and eager to drink the wimminz kool aid and listen to what they say, and promise…
Then there is the problem of scorpions playing dress up s frogs, and other frogs trying to make cozy with scorpions, so pretty much all you can ever do is only ever go swimming across that river alone, no exceptions, don’t even go near other frogs.
A frog who did not have the chance to go near any other scorpions ever again.
I shit you not.
Why are you acting all surprised, this is EXACTLY in line with how wimminz act in family court when it comes to custody and contact between the kids and the father.
It’s a bit like taking some green recruit fresh out of boot camp and airdropping the poor bastard in the middle of afdiggastan, amongst people who have spent generations growing up and living in circumstances that make boot camp look like all expenses paid disneyland and free hookers too.
I’m currently about 20% through Broken Roads (hat tip to DMJ) and I’m minded to write something.
Let me say this first of all.
Any ass-hole can find fault, being a critic is easy, lot easier than being a writer, and writers often of necessity have to employ things like artistic licence as a vehicle, if they strive for pin point accuracy it can kill the story stone dead before they start.
Star wars and just about everything else fucking piss me off because you have spacecraft performing AERODYNAMIC maneouvers in a vacuum, that shit is unforgivable, the writers need to be taken out back and fucked and dried.
Broken Roads you can tell, even 20% in, that the writer has fired a weapon, and been around what the yanks call a wrench / mechanic.
So I’m wondering, is it mere artistic licence and a vehicle for the story, or is it exactly what Rexx is talking about, that gives rise to the things I think when I read it, please bear in mind the following….
My father before me was an Engineer, like me, but a hundred times better than me, his era, he had a steam and electric ticket, otto diesel was still around, but dad’s first truck was a steam truck, made by Dennis.
95% of what I learned, I learned from my dad, so I learned how things were when HE was a boy apprentice, and later how the did things during the war, and in the jungles of the far east shortly thereafter….
Now, you can make acetylene easy enough, that’s just chemistry, but compressing and getting it into a bottle (not an empty one, but a bottle filled with a porous solid like a sponge) at high pressure is a completely new ball game, y’all try feeding a three stage diving compressor with acetylene and not air sometime, I’ll be the guy watching from 2,000 yards away through the fucking telescope…. but post apocalyptic Rexx grabbing a gas axe? (oxy acetylene torch) 40+ years after the breakdown…
The protagonist riding around on a motorcycle? Grease in a sealed tub might last 40 years, lube oil won’t, and that shit is harder to make than gasoline, many a time my old man told me the two great advances since he was a boy were pneumatic tyre technology and lube technology, the metals and engineering they had, but those two, no way.
Something no fucker talks about now, Brake Mean Effective Pressure, back in dad’s day they’d run a tuned side-valve engine at maybe 6:1 compression ratio, often 2/3rd of that, they had 100 octane gas and sub thou engineering and great steels, but no lube good enough.. if they had lube good enough, no way to get that power down as the tyres weren’t good enough.. this shit is hard limit stuff.
Gasifiers and steam power and sidevalve shit, the main protagonist might have been able to get a Model J Harley running, it was appropriate tech, the US Army used them to try and chase down Pancho Villa in real life, but what sounds like a 4 cyl jap bike with 12mm spark plugs?
Like I said, any asshole can be a critic, maybe DMJ knew all this but needed to write it his way to make the story work, and tell the story he wanted to tell, and not the story of the incredible technical challenges the real protagonists would face 40 years after the apocalypse.
So, this isn’t an appraisal of DMJ as an author, or Broken Roads as a book, rather it is about something that reading the book made me think, something that is in-line with what I have read so far.
That is that if you found yourself in that world, in reality, you would find that the reality as described in the book is a fucking fairy tale land of plenty and abundance and ease, from a purely engineering / technical POV.
I have seen with my own eyes a hand made arc welder, made in the 1990’s in africa, I have a picture somewhere, you can smelt copper and hammer it flat, but insulating it…. if you have high quality industrial weaving kit and cotton you can weave an insulator, I can remember this as a child, if you don’t, as these african’s didn’t, you hammered thin wall copper pipe flat, used hammered iron bed frame and leaf spring for the cores, and wrapped the hammered copper around the cores, using fucking paper from magazines for an insulator, an old set of jump leads worked both as the high current side and as the torch, and THEY STILL NEEDED INDUSTRIAL MADE AND COATED WELDING RODS.
This shit is orders of magnitude harder to do than anyone realises, this sounds easy, but it depends on that, and that depends on the other, and the other depends on something else, and you need all that shit in an unbroken line before you can do this…
I used to run a single cylinder static lister diesel generator, it would run on diesel, or lube oil, or ATF, and this 1.4 litre displacement single cylinder engine would produce a whopping 6 bhp @ 650 rpm, each of the twin external flywheels weighed around 300 lbs….. I personally wouldn’t even consider anything more technologically advanced or high tech or with a greater power to weight ratio for a Broken Roads scenario, we are literally talking steam power.
Similarly, 40 years after the apocalypse, my money is on the only kind of rifle the main protagonist would be able to run would be a muzzle loading flintlock, flint, black powder and lead you can do, and again, with low barrel pressures you can cast or wrap a barrel, there is a huge correlation between being able to make an engine barrel that will handle 200 psi peak pressures and a gun barrel that will do the same, to scale…. hell, the logo of BSA motorcycles until they folded was crossed rifles, Birmingham Small Arms…
But making brass, smokeless powder, and especially percussion caps… fucking hard stuff to do… so is making a rifled barrel
First you need a lathe….
But you couldn’t make that shit unless you have access to a fucking good blacksmith, and a metalsmith, and a gear cutter, all separate trades and skills, and they in turn depend on miners and smelters, brickies to make the kiln, it goes on and on, maybe when your community gets to 50,000 inhabitants you’ll have enough supporting trades and such to start making crude rifle barrels and steam engines and early internal combustion engines, Harley J stuff, assuming you have the fucking plans, and the measuring tools, and so on.
In a sense, though I am only 20% of the way into Broken Roads, I sense that this is at least one thread of the narrative that DMJ is telling a story about, our ignorance of our dependence on technology.
If he is, I find myself wondering, in 1978 the BBC did an excellent 10 part documentary series, narrated by James Burke, it was called Connections, and delved into this very subject, back in the days before TV was dumbed down into x-fuckedher I’m a celebutard.
Maybe you should all watch it.
Maybe you should download it, while you still can, in a post apocalyptic world a hand cranked charger would power a laptop and allow you to view it, and marvel at the moving pictures.
