October 22, 2013
The couple said they believed her condition was due to ‘fussy eating’
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October 21, 2013
Flying pigs, part two
In part one I mentioned Calhoun’s mice metropolis experiments, and the point that I kinda thought “everyone knew about this“, until I realised the truth was nearer “nobody under 50 has heard about this“, due to a post on another blog that drew parallels to Calhoun’s “beautiful ones” and the phenomenon which is known in Japan as “grass eaters”
In the mice metropolis experiment, these mice *looked* bloody good physically, but far from preserving themselves in readiness to exploit the die off, they died off too… they couldn’t handle *any* change from the existence they had forged.
The, to me, most important points of Calhoun’s experiment will likely be missed by those it is new to.. so, let me summarise…
- Mice heaven was divided into 16 equal segments, and each segment could provide for all the needs of up to 200 mice… for a theoretical maximum of 3,200.
- The experiment started with 4 or 6 mice, I forget which now.
- Each segment was identical, even down to provision of water and food.
- Nevertheless, the peak population never got beyond 2,200
- There were ***NO*** survivors of the die off phase.
- The population clustered, it didn’t spread out equally across the 16 zones.
point #5 is the one, this wasn’t some theoretical computer based life simulation based on foxes and rabbits etc, and *nobody* in the experiment expected it to end in extinction.
Sadly in 2013 if google hasn’t indexed it, it doesn’t exist, so it is only in my memory, not a link you guys can follow, that Calhoun said in an interview much later that it was almost like god / dna / darwin was watching, growth expanded to fill most of the space, eventually realised that this was a closed system with no way to breach the boundaries, and so the same grow and expand triggers that made the population squabble, ended up just turning off the lights and going to sleep and never waking again.
In effect, there were not enough possible moves or options left for the mice to evolve, it was a monoculture, and at some point some inbuilt trigger in dna flipped over to extinction.
Not all species that become extinct do so solely because they cannot eat and breed fast enough to overcome predation and environmental changes, many species that should have been able to carry on just quit.
Not enough moves left in the game.
Which makes an interesting thought experiment…
If these grass eaters, or “men going ghost” / MGTOW, are a direct analogy to the beautiful mice, then they are not a sign that marxism / feminism has had its day, but that homo sapiens has had its day.
Time for the next evolutionary step.
Homo makemeasammichbitch
The bit everyone forgets from Idiocracy is the obvious fact that if Not Sure hadn’t stopped them from irrigating the crops with Brawndo, everyone would have been dead, pronto, even before the remaining functioning stuff fell into dust and killed them that way.
OK, Earth isn’t a closed system / monoculture, so species extinction, maybe not, species speciation, maybe so, maybe so with bells on.
Maybe we are in the middle of such a speciation right now.
Certainly, as far as I can tell, wimminz and niggerz aren’t actually human, it is far more useful to think of them as some sort of alien body snatcher copies, they just imitate rational thinking beings, rather than having any ability to indulge in individual rational thought themselves.
It is interesting that in sci-fi whenever there is a call for a creature that copies the host organism, said creature always takes on the appearance of a human female… the *only* exception I can think of is an early English sci-fi film in which the creatures took on the appearance of young pre pubescent boys… it ended with a famous scene of the guy imagining a brick wall to avoid thinking about the bomb in the suitcase that would wipe them out.
As we now know, there is at best a vague and passing *positive* link between brain size and complexity, and intellect.
In my travels and in my life I have met some very very important and wealthy and influential people, and with truly rare exceptions I have come away with a profound impression of disturbing levels of stupidity, just a sense of “them and us” that makes any imagined psychopathy in what I wrote above look like a candle next to a bonfire.
To sum up.
I have never taken up the mantle of myself as being a PUA or having mastered game, it just does not sit right with me.
Nor does the whole grass-eater / MGTOW thing
I would caution men who are dissatisfied with the legal and social systems in place today, that MGTOW may not be something to aspire to, it may be nothing more than dropping out and spending your remaining time ensuring that you make a handsome corpse, for about 3 hours until morbidity sets in.
Perhaps, instead, aspire to evolving yourself into a different creature altogether, a shape-shifter that can pretend it is human, but unlike the wimminz and niggerz, the camouflage is not to conceal the lack of a functioning brain, but the presence of a keenly analytical brain.
Her son said: ‘What you did was unforgivable. You wanted me dead’
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Teaching pigs to fly.
There is a thing about ageing.
Ageing = the passage of time.
With the passage of time, unless you live in your own little artificial bubble, things happen, if you have your eyes and ears open this counts as something called “experience”
With sufficient passage of time two individuals of the same age in the same culture are going to share many experiences, and therefore they are going to share many world-views.
When you are 20 the mutterings of a 70 year old man about human nature in general just sound like some grumpy old fuck with a limp wrist who never amounted to anything when he was alive, and at 70 he is long dead from the neck up.
As you get older, that view shifts, at 20 you weren’t as immortal and dynamic and world changing as you thought you were, and the beat goes on, and one day you wake up and realise that the now long dead silly old cunt wasn’t so daft after all.
My grandad was viewed as such by me when I was a teenager, a silly selfish old cunt who didn’t give a fuck about his wife, only his sons, and not their wives either, and when push came to shove his #1 son very unusually produced one daughter only, so fuck her too, whereas his #2 son in turn had two boys, and when it came to will writing time even though there was barely a pot to piss in he made sure that everything was left in trust for those two boys…. what estate there was allowed the second wife to purchase a small home after his death (she was much younger than him) but it was never going to be her property, it was in trust.
Silly old cunt.
Now I’m older, not that there is or will be anything left in that trust by the time the lawyers get through with it, despite the fact that wife #2 is still alive some 42 years after grandad snuffed it, so it ain’t about the money, but now that I am older, well, he wasn’t such a daft old cunt after all.
At the very least not letting her get ownership prevented her from selling it and going on a cruise, and a direct result of that is she has had a roof over her head these past 42 years.
Every wimminz I have ever known pretty much fits into this category, the only things not totally fucked up about their lives are the things they themselves have been totally denied any control over.
Wimminz appear to be quite unable to process the idea that actions and choices have consequences that reach out through time like ripples from a rock thrown into a pond.
Niggerz too…
So they “hope” they won’t lie to you again, betray you again, stab you in the back again, but the typical man’s response of “don’t hope, bitch, don’t try, fucking DO…..” might as well be uttered in klingon.
Because it comes from a world of cause and effect, a world in which never checking your engine oil and then ignoring the idiot light leaves you by the side of the road with a fucked motor.
In a world with no cause and effect, there is no possibility to teach anyone anything, all you can do is curtail, control and imprint.
———————————————————————–
One of the consequences is you tend to not say shit, so when you come across another blog mentioning something you already knew, you feel a sense of surprise.
Doesn’t everyone know that? It was famous…
But then again, I’ve lived longer than many people, it’s that experience gap again.
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October 19, 2013
Diminishing returns
Shooting the shit with a co-employee while we cooled our heels on the clock, waiting for someone else in the supply chain to get their finger out so we could complete our jobs and GTFO.
Got around to overtime, and why I almost never do it, by the time overtime comes along, you already used your tax free allowance on your basic wage, so for example is the tax rate is 45% and you basic pay is $10 an hour and the company pays overtime at time and a half….
… a lot of guys start thinking 1.5 x 10 = 15 bucks and hour, but since the whole of that 15 bucks an hour is taxed at 45% you actually get 8.25 an hour to take home.
In other words each additional hour you work is a case of diminishing returns, the sweet hours were from when you started the day at 9 until mid morning, still on the tax free bit of your tax allowance (I know, it doesn’t actually work like that, but bear with me) where your hourly rate = your take home rate.
So this is why when I look at my monthly, it usually has around 3 to 8 hours of overtime, and the total extra money I am paid for those hours after tax is sweet fuck all.
But you have to remember, I am debt free, so I can do this and look at life this way.
Wimminz be the same, after the first fuck, which may have cost you a couple of drinks, everything else is diminishing returns.
And this is for s debt free guy, for the indebted guy it is much much worse, he can neither quit the job nor refuse the overtime.
Yesterday I got a call at 4:30, would I mind doing some overtime, a hotel site 50 miles away was hard down, now as I suspected the problem wasn’t fixable by me because it wasn’t the router, it was the line, and within 5 minutes of arriving I’m logged in and the IOS command show dsl interface atm0 tells you all about the line, signal which should be a high number is hovering around 6 dB, and attenuation which should be a low number is hovering around 50 dB, the kit is detecting the xdsl carrier and getting a lock, but that’s it, I tell the guy on the other end of the phone it is a line fault.
Of course, they don’t wanna know that, because it means escalating it and making an expensive and time consuming extra step in the escalation process to call a British Telecom line engineer out, so I spend 2 hours chilling and doing occasional other tests like swapping out the router for a new one and swapping out cables and shit…… and 2 hours later with all new cables and an all new router we are sat there with a carrier detect and 6 dB snr and 50 dB attenuation, and now they listen to me and book a line engineer.
Now money wise that is an hour to get there, two hours fucking around onsite, and an our back, half of which goes to the taxman, so, not worth it, but daddy didn’t raise no dumbass.
The job wasn’t too long to ruin my evening, but, it was long enough to qualify for expenses, so I was entitled to claim for supper, which I did, a nice sit down fish supper at a restaurant, and unlike my taxed overtime, every last red cent of that bill was picked up by the company, and since I had to eat anyway, in effect that got me tax free double time, now THAT is worth it.
================================
I have occasional longer dalliances with wimminz, mini relationshits if you will, and I use the same logic, and make a point of acting like a 70’s wimminz pop star, “I know you say you love me, but what have you done for me lately bitch” in the sense I only take on that OPTIONAL overtime if it suits me and is to my direct advantage.
I make it very clear to the wimminz in question that as soon as we hit the point of diminishing returns then rain stops play and I sit at home with my feet up.
My employer, like wimminz, appreciates my attitude and appreciates me, when they ring up with an overtime job they know they have to sell it to me, start by giving me all the job details up front, not just do you want some overtime in 90210 zip…
And if I say yeah I’ll do it they thank me up front, and I say no problem, because if it was the slightest fucking problem, I wouldn’t be doing it, and we both know that.
I want to digress slightly, something related.
My job, I’m a field engineer, I almost never see a fellow employee, my interaction with my bosses and HQ is via electronic means or phone call. Electronic means is usually an electronic diary, with brief job description.
Everything else is self discipline. Nobody is watching, nobody is checking, nobody will physically see.
It is up to me to get up in time, wash, shave, put on a shirt and tie, make sure I have the shit I need to do the job, and get my ass to site for the appointed time.
The only thing keeping me honest is me.
To the extent that the squeaky wheel gets all the oil, I get none, we are supposed to have 12 weekly face to face with line managers and all kinds of shit, I saw mine once back in March or April, which suits me fine…
I say they love me, they clearly don’t, but neither do they go “Oh fuck, what now?” when a message with my name in it pops up.
I’m easy and reliable and trustworthy and predictable.
Micromanage me and my ass is dust.
Sure, it’s not easy finding an employer my attitude and approach will fly with, but I figure neither is it easy to find an employee who can go months without any supervision of any kind and still turn up able to pass a surprise inspection.
It’s not easy finding a wimminz my attitude and approach will fly with, but I figure neither is it easy for them to find a man in a world of niggerz, so if you wanna play, you gotta pay.
My crib, at the moment, is a shit pit, so don’t get the idea that the self discipline I am talking about is some OCD trip, nor do I want to give you the impression I’m gung ho for all the corporate team building shit, I flatly fucking ignore everything that is not 100% related to my actual job, I unapologetically use spam filters for the internal corporate emails, everything automated and designed to make lacklustre employees do their job is sent straight to trash, this is against company policy and the corporate IT bod, who is not a friend of mine as we have locked horns a couple times over the pathetic corporate policy on password complexity and frequency of change, the OCD 30’s IT head telling me he knew all about my objections to the policy and touting his resume as part of the attempted put down, me saying yeah, the only factor you are missing here is people… duh… despite this, and them having full access to and control of my corporate laptop every time it goes on-line, not a fucking word is said, but then again neither is anything said about using my company laptop for personal use, because I don’t, ever, not even once.
Whenever one of the bods in the office has to call me on the company phone about a job, they are always greeted by a cheerful happy voice, because I am cheerful and happy, because I don’t give a flying fuck, I do my job, I enjoy my job, there are no inducements that they can offer or threaten with that will make me change, I’ll walk.
I’m the same with wimminz.
The self discipline doesn’t mean I am Captain Save-a-ho, I am chock fucking full of mother-fucking flaws and shortcomings, but I am here because I enjoy it and because it is fun, and the instant you try to change that bitch, I’m done here.
The law of diminishing returns does not apply to your cunt / ass / mouth, my self discipline ensures that it is either all gravy, or all history.
October 14, 2013
Love = ownership
Got this skank, she has been proclaiming undying love for me for some 18 months now, thing is, to her, her “loving” me means she should be able to control me.
I am not talking about “I love this person so I don’t want them to hurt me” which can be a huge grey area depending on the definition of hurt me, but I love you so you should do x to please me.
I had this discussion, what is love anyway, with a FWB over the weekend, and I had to admit, I had no idea what love actually is.
It’s not that I am a robot or psychopath without feelings, it is that no definition I can come up with carries any more meantingful, empirical and semantic content than Meh, bleugh, wibble… though I was able to tell her that every time I had felt what I would have described as love, I ended up getting hurt, often badly.
So, what is love, other than some sort of catch all code used to cover and express the indefinable and inexpressible?
I can remember that ache in the chest, “such sweet sorrow”, but I am always reminded of something my dad used to say, that yawning wasn’t a sign of tiredness, but a sign of not being well, he was right, I yawn when I’m running on empty, grab more oxygen the body says, not when I could crash out 10 seconds after putting my head down… but looking back that is what that ache was, the realisation that something wasn’t as I wanted it to be, the ache was because my dog was gone, not because I loved him.
They also say love and hate are two sides of the same coin, I’m not sure what hate is either, but it sure isn’t the inverse of love, I’d toast the great spaghetti monster if the psycho skank ho ex had a long and painful battle with cunt cancer, but I don’t feel great that those I care for are healthy.
I literally wouldn’t piss on her if she was on fire, but it is an apathy and a refusal to participate, not a participation in her downfall.
I conclude that actively seeking her downfall is going to be down to one or both of two things, anger and obsession.
Hate is a word that is abused as often as love, “I hate broad beans” no, I don’t, I just don’t like the taste of them.
It seems that in fact both words are used to describe a state of irrationality, of being absent from your senses, and therefore absent from a state of both rationality and sound judgement.
Back in the day, one day Queen was unheard of, then a week later they were all over the radio and telly, seven seas, my dad took one look at them and said “Queen,. Queer more like”… and thirty years later people were still debating freddie’s sexuality, and not debating the rest of the band, someone who should be in the know once told me that deaky was the only band member never to have sucked on a cock… but to the female fans, which was most of them if we are going to be brutally honest here, boys were more into Purple / Foghat / Zep / Yes / BTO, falling in love with a lead singer who preferred cock was a state of being absent from reality.
I fail to see how something that defies description as well as love does, can play a functional part in POSITIVE evolution, and I fail to see how something that fails to play a functional part in POSITIVE evolution can be anything else but NEGATIVE evolution.
Positive evolution is me fucking the psycho skank ho ex and creating a son to carry on the DNA
Negative evolution is me not reproducing.
Homosexuality is negative evolution, save for those rare cases when faggy uncle chris can save the life of nephew joe.
Homosexuality is not eliminated by evolution, therefore it is an artefact of evolution, and it is not the fact that fags are created that we should be focusing on, but the fact that fags (by and large) do not reproduce, DNA don’t care what you are, just what your genetic legacy is.
And when I say homosexuality I mean homosexuality, only being with one sex, your own, not people who put “bisexual” on a profile because it makes them sound trendy and everyone else is doing it too.
Loyalty and bonding, they play a part in DNA, and are therefore real.
Love and hate, no, don’t buy it, so they are just “noise”, plenty of signal, but no valid data.
Which ties in with the fact that I can quite easily explain and point to examples of loyalty and bonding, no difficulty whatsoever, unlike love.
In the final analysis it always appears to me that “love” is used as a get out of jail free card to justify actions and behaviours that would otherwise be beyond the pale.
When a child does something unforgivable, and that act is then forgiven, it is always love that is used as an excuse… whereas loyalty and bonding between a parent and child can be destroyed totally by that same act.. never darken my door again.
The skank that started this off, who proclaims undying love and then gets all upset when I don’t dance to her tune, she will never get the fact that it is the very fact of her getting upset when I won’t dance to her tune that puts her firmly in the “have fucked, won’t fuck ever again” category.
Her self declared love for me survives all this undiminished.
In effect her desire to remain irrational and absent from her senses remains undiminished.
My failure to comprehend love, is, I feel, not exactly unlinked to my failure to feel guilt and shame at being a deadbeat dad.
Only someone who is irrational and absent from their senses would feel guilt and shame over something that he would nether wish for nor make happen nor had any control over.
Grief, yes, I feel grief and sorrow, as I would if my dog was run over by a truck that crashed into the garden, something I am neither responsible for nor have control over.
With the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, it is telling that a phrase that was mentioned a *lot* in secret family court, along with “the child’s best ‘interests‘” was love, “duty” was only even mention as something belonging to the court, and “loyalty” didn’t get a look in.
I did a word analysis of the affidavits filed with the court by by psycho skank ho ex, in which I was accused of a decade of every manner of vile and disgusting and violent and abusive actions possible.
What was remarkable was the fact that until I did this, no matter how often I had read the documents in question, I completely failed to notice what words were missing.
World like pain and agony and bruising and uncomfortable and so on were either completely or totally absent, I’d run though the house waving a dagger and screaming I was going to kill her, or she would wear high necked and long sleeved tops to cover the bruises (used once) but no mention of the things a body feels when it has been subjected to such treatment.
Words and phrases that can be found in every other affidavit seeking child custody ever written were littered throughout, feelings and controlling and abusive and violent and scared and afraid, dozens and dozens of mentions of all of them.
What is love?
fuktifino
October 12, 2013
Just how honest would you like me to be?
With you, with myself?
How honest will you be, with me, with yourself?
There are plenty of things I won’t share, or talk about, and no, that isn’t code for being sodomised as a 7 year old or any of that shit, it’s just that there are some things that a me-centric enough that they are nobody else’s business.
But, while avoiding talking about specific things, some times we can talk about the paths we found ourselves on due to these specific things.
The feeling you get when you look at your family tree and actually realise for the first time you are a dead end, literally. And too old to meet and fall in love and marry and all that shit… so you are a dead end, literally.
The feeling a whole decade plus later, long after you have made your peace with the fact you are a dead end, when a wimminz deliberately and without consulting you or your wishes, gets pregnant by you, goes to term and delivers a healthy baby boy.
I suppose I could sit here and give y’all the proud and happy dad bullshit, but no, that ain’t true, it was duty and no more.
It is not the greatest day of your life, or the happiest, or any other fluffy shit.
Unlike the quiet day a decade before when you had had time to think and contemplate that you were a dead end, and be saddened by it, the day your son (commiserations if the womb turd is a mini slut) is born there is just too much shit going on for you to come to any honest answers.
I’m sorry, was I supposed to be a nice guy, a genuine solid man of integrity who was just used and abused and hurt by wimminz?
I am the sum of my experiences, both at the hands of others and my own, if I am to take any credit for anything it is that I am not some crazed vengeful serial killer.
I am not a nice man, but I am a truthful man, and a fair man, and a stands by his word man, and don’t do unto what I don’t want done unto back, even when it is.
Said to a wimminz last week, one of the few who is honest enough herself to be able to have conversation with her, that in reality raising kids is like raising a dog, it’s not hard, it’s not rewarding, it’s duty, and your kids, however much you may love em, they are not companions, they are sovereign territories of their own.
She just stared at me in silence for several seconds, before casting her eyes down in shame and admitting what we all know, what I said was truth, that level of honesty with oneself is unsettling and disturbing in the privacy of your own mind, scary when it is stated openly.
When I was younger I wondered, and secretly worried, that I might one day be a paedophile, if I didn’t watch myself, you see I had these urges, and you can’t discuss that shit…. and then one day I met someone who I later found out worked with such kids and their abusers, very eminent, very respected, and so one day we had a discussion on the subject… turns out she knew before I did I wasn’t one, if she suspected I could have been we would never have gotten close, turns out that those feelings of awareness of the sexuality of some of the more physically mature 14 and 15 year old girls were just natural biological functions, and I learned new words like hebephile and ephebefile, and that I was neither of those either, being aware of sexual maturity isn’t the same as wanting to fuck… wanting to fuck was conditioned out of me by my family and society and the way I was raised.
Once I learned that I was none of these things because I was none of these things, not that I was none of these things because so far I had resisted urges and impulses, all the shame was lifted.
I had nothing to be ashamed about, looking at the St Trinians‘s girls (pic above) and thinking phwoar as a young man did not make me a paedo, it made me normal… I was not “in temptation” by mere proximity, there was no thin end of a wedge, there was no desensitisation, there was no hidden psychopathy, and then I in turn started talking to others, and found that they had had exactly the same “awareness” of sexual maturity, and the exact same thoughts of secret shame, because they went though the exact same mental processes of being scared to examine it, just in case they were sick in the head.
And suddenly all the shaming language used in society was water off a duck’s back, I knew it wasn’t me.
Sure, I knew I still had to watch my ass, not just do nothing wrong, but don’t get yourself in a situation where things could go wrong, but suddenly….
I was no longer participating in my own shaming and control and self loathing.
I didn’t come out the other side of it a saint, honesty to oneself is not a pleasant experience, but the people most horrified by my ‘gazing into the mirror’ honesty are those who set themselves up as custodians to society, and unease and awkwardness YOU felt reading the above disclosures is magnified a thousandfold by what those who set themselves up as custodians feel.
In my secret family court case the judge, lawyers, social workers, court shrinks and assorted hangers on quite plainly looked at me with absolute hate and loathing, not because of the various things I was maliciously and falsely accused of by my psycho skank ho ex, but because I stood up and looked them all in the eye and had zero internal doubts, I was no longer able to participate in the attempted shaming of me, and I could not be manipulated into making any kind of concessions or admissions or twists of language or allowances.
I was powerless, but I was a fucking rock, unmoved, unaffected, unable to participate in the circus and play my appointed role.
I didn’t *have* to be honest with anyone else, but I *had* to be honest with myself when looking in the mirror, I had to turn over rocks, pull out all the worms, give them a post mortem, and then examine everything for consistency, all the while fighting the urge to just turn my back on it all and ignore it all and pretend none of it is true.
I am 100% responsible for putting myself in a situation where the psycho skank ho ex could make false allegations of DV and FRA etc against me.
I enabled her to do this, I gave her the opportunity.
I kept doing it, even when I had several opportunities to bail, and I am not talking opportunities to walk away, anyone can do that any time, if they are prepared to pay the price.
I am talking opportunities to bail where I deliberately put myself back in the target zone.
She is 100% responsible for making malicious false accusations.
I am 100% responsible for putting myself in a place where she could, and then staying there.
The difference between then and now is now I have faced that internal mirror some more, and turned over far more rocks… not them all, but far more.
Some of those rocks include;
- Being scared of being “alone”
- Being scared of being a dead end genetically
- Wanting to see myself as a knight in shining armour
- Not wanting to accept that my initial impressions of someone were mistaken, there was no good, hidden deep with them, that would come out if only they were given a chance.
Yeah, it was the last couple that really did it for me.
Wanting to be perceived by others in a certain way is a folly.
Wanting to be perceived by yourself in a certain way is the greatest folly.
In a strange way, I am grateful to the psycho skank ho ex, if she wasn’t so psycho I would still be trapped in a prison of my own making. I know it is an anathema to say such things, like those who are grateful to shit that nearly killed them for giving them a whole new perspective and lease on life.
Finding and analysing and eliminating these rocks was key to ridding myself of the poison of anger and hate and loathing that dwelled within me, and I could see that same anger and hate and loathing in the judge, lawyers, etc etc
Don’t make a career out of keeping these rocks alive, Tamagotchi style…
In ages past they would have been called inner demons, and keeping them alive would be demonic possession, and of course da wimminz, well, that was where the word hysteria and hysterical comes from innit….
Guys often ask me why I still associate with da wimminz, and fuck them, why don’t I ghost.
Yay, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, not because I am the meanest motherfucker in the entire valley, but because I am that valley, and I am done fearing me.
I never did fear others, it was always me that scared me, not what I was, but what I was capable of.
No longer, I have met the enemy, and he is me.
We have come to know each other, and come to a truce of sorts, not all of the rocks have been examined, but at least there are none left in our shoes or in our eyes.
How honest do you want me to be, I am a deeply flawed human being, but there is no malice in me, and I am content to get by trying to do unto others as I would have them do unto me, and avoiding them if they aren’t happy with that.
How honest do you want me to be, that son that was taken away from me and his paternal family, I’ll do something as / when / if enough factors change so that I can actually do something, until then I’m not going to beat myself up, or allow anyone else to beat me up, about being a deadbeat dad.
Don’t let this be you.
The old man’s sitting there, his head bowed down
Every now and then he’ll take a look around
And his eyes reflect the memory-pain of years gone by
He can’t regain nostalgic dreams he’ll never see again
With trembling hands, he wipes a tear
Many fall like rain, there’s one for every year
And his life laid out so clearly now, life that’s brought death
So nearly now life once he clung to dearly lets go
But spare a thought as you pass him by
Take a closer look and you’ll say
He’s our tomorrow, just as much as we are his yesterday
A lonely grave, and soon forgot
Only wind and leaves lament his mournful song
Yet they shout his epitaph out clear
For anyone who’s passing near
It names the person lying here as you
And you…and you…and you…
October 10, 2013
Come on feel the noise…
There is reality, and there are dreams.
99% of the human population, and 100% of the wimminz, prefer dreams to reality.
Dreams are “Yeah, I know if I tell the bitch what I am really thinking I stand a 0% chance of getting laid, so I’ll PLAY THE GAME” .. which in other words is marketing.
Meanwhile the reality is “Bitch, if your lifetime cock count exceeds three, OR you have kids by another man, you are at best pump and dump cum bucket material, game over”
Had a skank today tell me she was pissed because she spent years trying to work and pay her way and raise her kids alone after her divorce, and she was always fucking broke.
Said to her, what the fuck did you expect, what the fuck did you think was the purpose of destroying the male work environment by bringing in wimminz and making them “equal”, divide and conquer the family.
Where the fuck have all the good men gone, y’all fucking killed em off, because the only thing that kept a good man good was having a wife and kids at home to be responsible for and to put a roof over their fucking heads, take that away….
Dreams are my ideal man is six foot four with a cock like a pony and earns enough to buy a new Ferrari every year.
Reality is DNA
Like she says…
Like Bridget, I did consider joining a dating agency. I went for an interview, where they try to find out what you’re looking for in a man and what you have to offer. ‘Gaah!’ as Bridget would say.
I don’t do fat men, I told the Dating Lady. It’s one thing growing old and podgy with your husband of 25 years, but unthinkable that romance could begin at 51 with a Pavarotti double.
Age range 45 to 60, I told her, and a real 60, not a fibbing octogenarian with a wig.
Race? Don’t care. Religion? Ditto. Wealth? I just want someone at home in his own skin who has a job he enjoys – for all I care he could be a carpenter, I lied.
Dating Lady put down her pen and said: ‘You’re not giving me much to go by here to match you up. Tell me what your dream man would be.’
So I said he’d be a successful business-man in his mid-50s, divorced two years ago. He and his wife had drifted apart after the children grew up.
He was about to tell her he wanted a divorce when she told him she’d fallen madly in love with a millionaire and didn’t want a penny of his money. They parted as friends and he kept the house and his pension.
Dating Lady said that as a potential dating pool of men, it was the size of a goldfish bowl.
Straight from the whore’s mouth… and look at her hands boys…
But the dating bitch was only half right, the potential dating pool is the size of a goldfish bowl, but the pool of wimminz chasing the contents of that goldfish bowl is the size of the pacific, and all the fucking ice caps are about to melt too.
some of the comments are good.
JohnAnderson, Cambridge, United Kingdom, 10 hours ago
Maybe the problem is that they find out you’ve written several chronically insecure, self-pitying, attention-seeking articles in a national paper about the lengthy list of men you’ve racked up.
Weeg, Sapientia Urbs Conditur, United Kingdom, 12 hours ago
most of us want someone around our own age, who is single, sexy and solvent, – So still looking for that meal ticket? Luckily men of that age (like me) have learnt sense and so avoid women like you like the plague. Indeed all men of your age want is just sex as well. Red arrow away ladies.
VisceralRage, London, United Kingdom, 12 hours ago
Women of Amanda’s generation have brought their relationship failures upon themselves and it seems women from the younger generations are only going to follow in their footsteps.
Right here we can see reality vs dreams, she still has the dreams, and the (male) commenter’s have the reality.
The thing about reality vs dreams is sooner or later reality comes around and kicks you in the teeth, and the longer you avoid it the harder the kicking you get.
Miz (sic) Platell’s kicking has barely fucking started, with the spaghetti monster’s grace she has another 30 or 40 years of it to go.
And let us not forget that this bitch is at the apex of what wimminz can achieve, for 99.999% of the female population things are much much much worse.
Miz Platell don’t exactly look good as it is, but just imagine what the bitch would look like if she was living on benefits and had to dress herself for £20 out of Primark / Wal-Mart
But the fact is even if she was stood up in fifty bucks worth of clothes and makeup and shoes all in, she would still be worth it ****IF**** what she brought to the table was an offer to do the housework, do the laundry, do the cooking, be a lady in the street and a whore in the bedroom, and to be 100% loyal and obedient to me.
THEN she’d be a valuable commodity able to choose her man, but no, dreams still get in the way of reality, even a pretty good reality with only the odd bone of contention, the dreams will always win with these cunts.
They have never fucking grown up.
Platell is 50-something going on 3…
They never grew up cos nobody ever made em..
DMJ just did a piece about testosterone, I don’t agree with all his conclusions, and personally I think he is a bloody fool to dose himself with the shit, in exactly the way I was as a younger man when I would quite happily imbibe any mind altering drug handy… address the issue by stopping doing whatever is lowering your testosterone, and starting doing whatever you are not doing that would boost it…. I’m reminded of one smart female doctor who got cancer, so the other doctors wanted to do chemo and irradiate her lymph nodes with X rays, her response was that her cancer wasn’t caused by a fucking lack of X rays, so how would X rays cure it, so she plowed her own furrow and it went into remission, plus she never had any of the consequences of chemo.
But the real point is in this article he links to Heartiste’s then and now photo essay, and points out how none of the then guys look like faggots, and all of the now ones do…
The “then” guys fucking worked motherfucking hard for a living.
When you spend 30 years of your life clenching your jaw and squinting your eyes to get through the WORKING day, y’all end up with one of those faces.
As an aside here I think DMJ has (apparently) bought the blue pill on testosterone, it isn’t a macho chemical or an aggression chemical or a misogynistic chemical, it is just one necessary chemical in a soup that is a human being, and like all the other necessary chemicals it has to be in balance.
There are LOTS of suspects for the change in then and now, then nothing came wrapped in pthalate containing plastic packaging, who is to say what is the cause, or even if it is any one thing?
I know of absolutely NO substance that can induce, all by itself, just by administering it, violence or rage or aggression in 100% of subjects.
I know of absolutely no substance (I am not a biochemist) that is a catalysts and ALL BY ITSELF produces any kind of change in 100% of subjects, every single thing I know of interacts with something else, and it is THAT which kills you.
Slipping back into engineering for a minute.
Our bodies have a natural reaction to acids, whether it is vinegar in a cut in your mouth or battery acid on your hands, and this reaction is 100% down to evolution, we have since we became swamp things that crawled out of the primeval oceans, become adapted to exposure to acids.
The opposite of acid is alkali, and one we all know of is sodium hydroxide, or caustic soda or lye.
While acids are fucking everywhere in nature, you can’t mine caustic soda anywhere, it doesn’t grow on trees, it isn’t produced by animals eating and shitting, so it is no wonder that the human body has no defences against it.
If I pour a strong acid on your hands it will burn. ouch!
If I pour a strong alkali on your hands it won’t burn or hurt (initially) it will just feel slimy and slippery… that is your flesh literally disintegrating.. the incredible melting man…
So basically, because we have been exposed to acids for millions of years, we have developed reactions to acids, because we have not been exposed to alkalis, we haven’t developed reactions, and most shop bought fruit and seeds are “washed” in sodium hydroxide, because it peels the outer layer and kills every mother fucking thing on that apple…..
mmmmm, nice juicy shiny apple, which again looks nothing like an apple eaten 100 years ago, then and now…. when I was a boy it was rare, but you COULD bite into an apple and get a mouth full of moth fruit-worm, I talk to people who are 25 or less and they literally do not know what the fuck I am talking about, so strong has been the supermarket buying power in produce production…
They are also usually wholly against cloning, but quite happy to eat a banana, and every banana ever sold in a western supermarket is a clone… again, that is a last century only phenomenon.
It doesn’t matter what the disease was, but only a couple of centuries ago a disease was identified because people who used one well in London died, and those who used surrounding wells didn’t, my dad (as an apprentice) put running water into my grandparents house, so again, running water in the house, there is another difference between then and now, and don’t forget, running water = central supply.
Before DNA was discovered, it was still there, doing its thing.
Before Atoms and Elements were discovered, they were still there, doing their thing.
We can look back and say how quaint, how primitive, how uncivilised, fancy using leeches to drain the ichors and humours, even if it was an advance on fire water earth and air, but nevertheless in *many* cases these barbaric practices continued for one reason and one reason only.
They worked often enough to get used again.
Somewhere, with some of the ancient practices and rituals and beliefs, there was often a grain of scientific truth, a grain of reality.
Today we have essentially two groups of people.
Those who think science probably knows at least 75% of everything these is to know on any given subject.
Those who think any given subject is un-knowable because we are not God.
That hasn’t changed, then and now, back then they thought they knew 75% of alchemy, which is who many tried to transmute lead into gold etc.
Then we learned it was impossible.
Then we learned you could do it, a few atoms at a time, at great expense and depending largely on random subatomic collisions.
In my own humble opinion, if the sum total of knowledge of human biochemistry is a ruler 1 metre long, where at one metre you could simply create on demand as precisely specified a human being as you liked, the guys with the leeches were at 2mm, Leonardo and his drawings took it to 3mm, and the finest we can do today is around 10mm.
In this environment, claiming to know the properties and effects of any compound is risible.
Nor do I buy into the natural = good and modern = bad argument, there are many potent natural poisons and carcinogens.
HOWEVER, my body at least has several million years of evolution which might be enough to trigger a vomiting reaction to an entirely natural product, but not trigger that reaction to a man made or factory processed version of that same product.
I dunno…
DMJ is on about testosterone, and estrogen in soy, maybe it is a simple as the difference between then and now is that now all the wimminz are permanently dosed up on steroid hormones.
Maybe it is as simple as DNA says women were made to have a functioning womb, and steroidal hormones fuck with that are turn them into wimminz, in effect, an illness that DNA is unable to treat as anything but an illness, and so it triggers other characteristics to make these “sick” wimminz unfuckable.
We live in a world where it is entirely NORMAL that something seemingly irrelevant like a minute parasite can trigger major psychological changes in the host, eg toxopasmosis making cat piss smell interesting and not terrifying, to mice….
Why cannot deliberately dosing a walking womb with something specifically designed to fuck up the working of that womb not wreak equal or greater changes in personality?
Come on feel the noise. Girls Grab the Boys, We’ll get Wild, Wild, Wild…
Maybe the signal is not lost in the noise.
Maybe the signal is the noise, we just aren’t smart enough yet to decode it.
October 8, 2013
Stuck in the RAM
I have had jobs where sites stop being able to connect to the mother-ship, usually these are sites using an xDSL modem to log into the mother-ship, and login is of course by the trusty Radius server.
The problem isn’t that the cheapo xDSL modem is dead, though that is always the second thing investigated, or the cheapo xDSL line is dead, though that is always the first thing investigated, the problem is the Radius server just stopped working, and you can “fix” it by making a change that simply should not make any difference, changing the Radius password on the Radius server and xDSL modem / router.
I’ve had this on Cisco kit too, you need to TFTP a patch across so configure terminal and then give it an IP address, give your laptop and IP address and as a final sanity check before starting the TFTP you attempt to ping each box from the other, and it doesn’t work, and you can repeat the process ten times, and it won’t work, but if you reboot the Cisco box it will work first time.
Neither of these problems should exist, within the framework of “things as they should be” or rather “things as they are taught”.. for example it is heresy to suggest rebooting the Radius server, so it is discounted as a source of problems when a client site cannot log into a mother-ship, and for example it is heresy to suggest that any console / command line output from Cisco IOS is less than 100% truthful, and yet, if either of these statements were true, the fixes I used would not work.
When asked what the problem was, I say something “Was stuck in the RAM“, which is of course meaningless *and* inaccurate, but it is an explanation of sorts, and it is *far* closer to the truth than the official answers.
I’m not a coder, but I suspect the truth could be found somewhere in the realms of buffer overflows and bounds checking.
However, nobody calls a senior coder in when a remote office fails to connect to the mother-ship, (which one way or another is what 99% of my day job is about, making two sites connect to each other) so as a result you get anything *but* the truth.
As an aside, before I continue, if you are thinking that these are only problems encountered because I am working with cheap ass kit on cheap ass contracts for cheap ass clients, you would be as mistaken as you can possibly be… I absolutely guarantee that even if you have never set foot in the UK you will know 50% of the end users by brand name and reputation alone, even if they do not have a presence local to you.
Most of the kit is relatively speaking not very much money, anything from 500 to 5,000 bucks a box, and that is not a lot of money for a site that is turning over a million a week or an engineer that costs the end user 250 bucks before I even leave MY home, much less turn up on site… the kits itself is very mediocre quality, hardware wise, and that is me speaking as an engineer. Trust me on this.
Cisco kit sells because it all runs IOS, and finding people with Cisco qualifications who can write / edit / troubleshoot the config files, which are the files that tell the IOS what to do, is about as hard as finding a web designer, worst case scenario is there are several tens of thousands available for not very much about 90 milliseconds away in Mumbai.
This, by the way, is the SOLE reason everyone loves the cloud and virtual machines, virtual machines don’t have ANY hardware, so you NEVER need a field engineer to turn up and move a patch cable, power cycle to unstick the RAM, do an actual install or upgrade, or anything else…
So, back to the plot…
It’s down to ETHOS, car brakes were basically designed so the default state was that they were off, truck brakes were designed so the default state was they were on (and it took air pressure to keep them off).. so you pressurise a car system to make it stop, and you leak pressure out of a truck system to make it stop.
Ask yourself two questions;
- Which is safest.
- Which is cheapest to make.
Suddenly everything becomes clear.
Unless you are the bit of NASA writing the actual code that directly controls the spacecraft flight hardware, or the bit of GE writing the actual code that directly controls the control rods in the nuke pile, or… and I cannot think of a third fucking example….. then option 2 always gets a look in.
Most of the time the bottom line is the bottom line.
“Good enough” (mostly)
By definition you are excluding the “one in a million” event from your calculations.
Which is great, *until* that event comes along… luckily for humanity in the sphere of my job until I fix it that means someone didn’t get their wages, someone didn’t get their stock in trade to sell, someone didn’t get a product or service that they were going to re-sell to someone else.
It can all be very serious and even life changing to the individuals concerned, but, the small print can cover that shit, nobody got killed…. fuck em…
We have had quite a few “cascade failures” in teh intertubez, they aren’t yet as serious as the power grid blackouts we have had, but then again the power grid is everywhere and literally in everything, and the net is still a relative newbie, chromebooks running exclusively on data living on a virtual machine in the cloud somewhere and 100% of fast net connectivity even to boot up into anything useful are still rare.
But the times, as Dylan said, they are a changin’
I am seeing, as a result of these changes, where the 1st, 2nd and 3rd level responses to problems simply do not work, because the RAM that is stuck is not in the local machine, it is in a central machine that MUST NOT be rebooted, or worse still, in a cloud virtual machine.
At that point the on the spot field engineer (me) can no longer just ring the remote server engineer, compare notes, agree on a likely cause and course of action, and resolve the problem.
I saw this happen, in the flesh, before my own eyes, for the first time, personally, yesterday, NetApp, unfortunately there were so many levels of virtuality that the server guy couldn’t diagnose which layer or virtual RAM was stuck, or where, and there was no possibility of simply rebooting as that would take the entire enterprise down and trash that whole day’s production, which was already sold and due to be in the shops tomorrow, or changing chap/tacacs/radius logins and resetting the problem that way… no worries, a whole new virtual machine was created, problem ignored.
Fuck it, I still get paid either way.
Asking people like me about my opinion on such things, well, that would be like asking a doctor about disease, fuck that, ask the pharma marketing machine, they have their eye on the bottom line.
October 6, 2013
Selling your soul
This one comes up regularly in conversations, so time to put it here.
It doesn’t matter if it is on a fucking site, PoF, okcupid, fuckbook, a job interview, or real life.
You can give it any fucking trendy name you like, your account, your profile, your CV, your party hat on… it doesn’t make any odds, what you are doing is writing an advert…. this leads to options… Person A who is honest, and Person B who is dishonest.
- Advert is true
- Person A visits advert and likes it
- Game on
- Person A visits advert and doesn’t like it
- Game over, you aren’t compatible, no sale today
- Person B visits advert and likes it
- Game over, they are dishonest, you won’t like the price
- Person B visits advert and doesn’t like it
- Game over, you are honest, they don’t like the price
- Person A visits advert and likes it
- Advert is false
- Person A visits advert and likes it
- Game over, your deception will be revealed
- Person A visits advert and doesn’t like it
- Game over, you aren’t compatible, no sale ever
- Person B visits advert and likes it
- Game on/over, you’ll make the sale, sure, but you’ll regret it, deeply.
- Person B visits advert and doesn’t like it
- Game over, you’re a liar, so are they, no foundation of trust, no sale
- Person A visits advert and likes it
So, out of 8 possible outcomes;
- One (1.1.1) gets you the “sale”, ching ching. Je ne regret rien.
- One (2.3.1) gets you the “sale”, brick in an iPad carton.
- One (1.2.1) doesn’t get the sale, but doesn’t alienate the other person.
- Five are no sale, a waste of effort.
If you aren’t getting (1.1.1) in whatever endeavour you are doing, say getting laid on a fucking site, then that is TRUE market forces at work, your honestly marketed product is not desired, even if it is free (like Linux)
If you attempt to change the advert to get a sale then you’re (2.3.1) you changed yourself from an honest vendor to a dishonest vendor, and no honest buyer will ever want to know you again, what’s perhaps more pertinent is you can never make another honest sale, honest buyers who are looking for what you really are will be put off by your advert, which saying something else entirely about you, and there is no way to say hey, wait a minute, none of this is true, I was only trying to make a sale here…
Item 4 above, the other five are no sale, a waste of effort, well, it is no effort at all to set your stall out honestly, it is just being you, take it or leave it, but it is a lot of effort, and an ongoing effort, to maintain an illusion.
Maintaining the illusion and making no sale is a monster waste of effort, but, it is better than maintaining the illusion and selling the brick in the iPad box, one is un-interested potential buyers, the other is someone you ripped off, even if they also paid you in counterfeit notes… y’all richly deserve each other.
——————————————
Like I say, this doesn’t apply just to one small area of your life like getting laid.
Do *****NOT***** confuse this with those who are marketing the illusion, and who also say “fuck ya if ya don’t take me as I am, I ain’t changing for no-one” s these are just people who are more in love with their own delusions than with making an honest sale.
=====================================================
ALL your problems start from an initial assumption that you aren’t worth shit if you haven’t made a sale, you are a failure, a loser, a beta, a nobody, yadda yadda yadda.
As a potential employee there have been situations where potential employers could use me, but were not prepared to pay me what I thought my labour was worth, this doesn’t make me unemployable, they still have the vacancy and I still have my labour to sell.
I have some machine tools that I attempted to sell on fleabay, I put a fair minimum price on them, I didn’t make a sale, I still have them.
I *could* have made a sale, one guy came around and would have given me 50 cents on the dollar and I would have made a sale, but I chose not to, I actually ended up spending more money on the items to get them better than they were and kept them.
At 50c on the $ I would have considered myself exploited, I’d rather give them away or sell for scrap.
This, essentially, is why I am a single man.
My time and interest and effort and loyalty are indeed for sale, I just can’t get any interest in this market at the minimum prices that I am prepared to open negotiations and start haggling at.
I had one guy say to me, “there is this chick on a fucking site, I’d give it one and all that, but she is overweight and has a list of demands that the guy is at least six foot yadda yadda yadda…. how do I deal with that?”
It’s simple, you don’t. she falls into one or more of the (2.x.x) series of options above, no good can come of it, the best possible scenario is you use some forged currency to buy a brick in an iPad box, but the chances are you’ll be spending real money, so it’s even worse.
You know, this is what red pill / MGTOW is *really* all about, it is about not contaminating yourself by associating with liars, and not being a liar yourself, or to yourself, or about yourself.
And yes, this includes whatever you do for 40 hours a week to earn a crust.
You cunts need to learn the difference between COMPROMISE and NEGOTIATION.
Red pill doesn’t fucking compromise, the two are mutually exclusive.
I am open to negotiation, but not compromise, and that makes me “no sale” to 99.9% of the planet, including wimminz and niggerz and employers.
Sadly, even modern dictionaries have re-defined the word, so here it is, the essential difference, because both words are broadly similar and broadly involve two parties in discussion on a given subject.
In a NEGOTIATION there is no expectation of any kind that an agreement between the two parties will be found. Rather, the discussions centre around exploring the possibility that such an agreement can be made.
In a COMPROMISE either such an agreement has already been made, or both parties are working under the assumption that such an agreement is the end goal.
You can say “You have compromised yourself by taking that money from Luigi”
You cannot say “You have negotiated yourself by taking that money from Luigi”
I just spent 15 minutes on-line trying to find a link to a site that did not confabulate the two UTTERLY disparate and separate things into one, and failed… My print edition 1950’s Oxford dictionary had no problems whatsoever differentiating the two, though to be fair http://oxforddictionaries.com/ makes a fair attempt at it, and neither definition mentions the other one, which is as it should be.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The only form of compromise that is acceptable to a red pill man is the sort I made recently with the Noo Pee Cee build, I had to compromise between the spec I would like to build and the money I wanted to spend…. eg one I make with myself, because I can usually trust myself to play both sides of the argument fairly.
Any outside (of me) agency that has as its starting point that I must make some compromise, is kept outside the perimeter of my life, and that is NOT negotiable mother-fucker.
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