if the roles / sexes were reversed..
and a man cut a baby girl’s labia off and the kid died, would we even have to ask what would happem
February 9, 2013
February 7, 2013
February 4, 2013
BBW – Blatantly Bullshitting Wimminz
While I am the first to admit to, and complain of, the sort of drop down list or radio button choices presented on many websites, thinking personally that none of the available options are correct, and then choosing the least wrong one… there are limits…
So for example being in my fifties I can no longer claim to be “athletic”, on the other hand I could still get into the trousers I wore at 16 as my waistline has not changes, so “slim” it is, even though I don’t consider myself slim, but the next one up, average, isn’t for me either, I only have to look out the window to confirm this.
Back in the seventies a D cup was a fairly big tit, and even then everyone, men and women alike, knew that cup size = tit size, so a 36-24-36 C cup and a 36-24-36 B cup were notably different.
But then whatever happened, put it down to processed foods, sedentary lifestyles, cosmetics and lotions and pills, whatever you like, body sizes have been growing, and with them tit sizes.
Late last year I was with a chick for a while, she was what you would call a “fat bird”, there was fat everywhere there shouldn’t have been, but she was young enough and fit enough that none of it had yet been affected by gravity and started to sag, so it wasn’t revolting, it was more cuddly, but the main attraction was GG cup tits. (the pic above is GG cup)
GG cup is significantly bigger than the human head, even on this fat bird they looked massive, frankly if she had been 36-24-36 they would have looked freakish and “uncanny valley” and quite unreal and totally photo-shopped or CGI‘d
The interesting thing about the human head is it is the one part of the human body with the least variation in size across individuals.
So there is this other bitch on the swinging site with, she claims, a pair of GG’s, so I look at her profile pics, and her tits are fucking MAYBE half the size of the girl I was banging, while her body was at least as big, plus, it had all started to sag south with gravity.
The chick in question MAY have been an E cup, so technically I can let the BBW thing go, yeah, she is a Big Busted Wimminz (no, it NEVER meant Big Beautiful Wimminz), but she is a fat bitch BBW.
So I get a wink yesterday morning, from a self described BBW, right away I am suspicious because it is the usual fat bitch photo composition, head and shoulders and bit of cleavage and not much else, but what the fuck as she sounds kinky enough, so I’ll play along for a while.
First thing I says “babe, send me some pics that show all of you, not just that stuff on your profile pix”
Nobody who has been reading this blog is in any illusions that wimminz can’t wait to send nekkid porno pics of themselves to a prospective cock… so time passes, and with each passing hour, we are still doing the odd text, I am still asking where my pix are, she is still making excuses about being busy, so with each passing hour I am revising upwards the probable land whale factor.
Eventually the pic arrives, and I will spare you the trauma of sharing it here.
The tits *may* be D cup, but it’s hard to tell because really they are just sagging and flabby and resting like deflated balloons on a beach ball, the upper torso is a triple wide rear slick of pink blubber, but it’s got a flat or it’s all distorted like a dragster slick, there is a fold that goes where the belly button would normally be, and this fold wraps completely around the body as far as I can see from the pic, if you are thinking of the gap between a close spaced pair of rear duallies you’re on the right track, and so we move south to what is traditionally referred to as the spare tyre, more double wide flabby pink slick, and this also hangs gravity style, I presume there is a cunt under there somewhere, there is no way to tell, there could be 8 inches of swinging cock and it would be concealed behind the drooping blubber.
Under this are two “relatively” slimmish legs, but the skin of the left and right legs is touching in a solid mass all the way down to the calf, about 12″ off the ground.
You know that feeling you get when you just fucking KNOW what the other person is expecting you to say…
I can tell, I am supposed to say something nice, something complimentary, something supportive, and while her body is big enough, so is Canada, that don’t make it easy to find nice things to say about it, when you were hoping to get transported to BC is summer, and you got transported to Sudbury, post apocalypse…
“You’re a fucking fat bitch innit” I say, because she has rang me to chase up the compliment, because it has been several minutes of silence from me, no texts no nothing
This doesn’t go down to well, so I try to resolve the issue by asking her why she eats so much yet also clearly has so many issues with her own body image.
Suddenly all trace of the submissive slut disappears, to be replaced with a whiny shouty arrogant entitled fat bitch, which coincides with the CIA trying to hack my phone and causing the call to be dropped…. >;*)
I am hesitant to say that all fat bitches have a severe fucking attitude problem, because I might thus give the impression to the less experienced men out there that slim wimminz are NAWALT, and that simply ain’t so.
What I am saying is that in my experience all fat bitches do not JUST have all the AWALT that all slim wimminz have, they have extra helpings of that too… worst of a bad breed as it were.
I’m reminded of a joke from my youth, when there simply was not the obesity epidemic that there is today;
Why did God make fat people smell?
So blind people could hate them too.
February 2, 2013
Truth or Dare
I see a lot of posts in the MRM talking about religion, and the lack of religion as being part and parcel of the breakdown of marriage 1.0 and the declining standards of wimminz etc.
Substitute any other hobby horse you like for “religion” and you just covered 99% of the manosphere.
Thing is, this is dishonest, and the problem really is not that complex.
What all these hobby horses have in common is the exact same thing, pressure on the wimminz in question to stand by her word.
It really is as simple as that.
It’s not that marriage 1.0 wimminz stood by her man because she had religion, it’s that she stood by her man, the why doesn’t matter a damn.
If you owe me 50 bucks, I really don’t give a fuck what your motivation was for repaying me, all I give a fuck about is you repaying the 50 bucks when you said you would.
It could be because god told you to, or it was a day with a T in it, or a black cat crossed your path, I don’t give a flying fuck, any more than I would if those same reasons were used by you to justify not paying me back on time.
99.999% of what I give a fuck about is you standing by your word, and paying me back when you said you would.
I’m not sure why most of the MRM appears to care about the reasons, and not the actions, but I do have a theory.
That theory is you can’t really give a fuck about other people standing by their word unless you give a fuck about standing by your word… I think the two processes are indivisible.
I fucking detest my psycho skank ho ex, and all the secret family court lawyers and judges etc, because they make it impossible for me to stand by my word (it was implied, not stated, to an unborn child, but that does not matter to a man) and be there to care for and teach my sons… I was left with two choices;
- Break that implied word / duty by being imprisoned for refusing to stop trying to keep it.
- Break that implied word / duty by walking the fuck away and refusing to let them make me a niggerz
Let me give you a small example.
There is a phrase that I can remember my mother saying to me as a small boy.
Much of the MRM will say this is because my mother was a religious woman who entered into a marriage 1.0 with my father, etc etc etc.
I have no way to prove it, but I would bet large amounts of money that this is a phrase my sons will never hear from their psycho skank ho mummy, nor is it something that any other skank ho single mummies ever say to their kids, it has been lost from society.
This is the phrase that my mum said to me, when I lied to her, when she asked me if I had Tom’s mum’s permission if Tom Dick Harry and I could all go out to play in the woods.
“My mother (e.g. my grandmother) always said she would rather have a thief in her house than a liar, because if you have a thief in your house all you have to do is lock your nice things away, but there is nothing you can do with a liar.”
Certainly for the first half of my life I struggled with that more than anything else, in the here and now of goldfish memory telling a lie is the quick and easy way out, or way in, or way to get something, or way to avoid something.
It was complicated by the fact that at school telling a lie and so not grassing up a fellow pupil was seen as being more honourable than telling the truth and grassing them up.
“No Sir I don’t know who did it Sir” was always better than “Yes Sir Jimmy did it Sir”
But I always struggled with this, because it meant that telling a lie was better than telling the truth, and also that telling the truth was more important than honour and loyalty to your classmates.
Rather like a computer given an impossible task, my solution was not a solution at all, in that I did not come up with it, it just happened, endless feedback loop, zombie children roaming in the pipes.
My “solution” was to simply refuse to answer the question.
Did you hear the question boy?
Yes Sir.
Are you going to answer it then?
No Sir.
And so it came to pass that I very quickly gained a reputation for what was classed as “dumb insolence“, which followed me through my scholastic career and in many ways blighted it.
Of course to the tyrannical and authoritarian masters at school, I was the Antichrist, but there were some others, who never commented upon my dumb insolence, but who never asked me those kinds of questions again, and who sometimes had a kind word to say to me and a gentle smile.
In hindsight I can also see that despite the exhortations of my parents to work harder at school and to stop constantly being in trouble, not once, ever, was I chastised for my dumb insolence, which was after all the cause of it all…
Back then I could never have predicted seeing my own sons in similar unpleasant circumstances, or hearing about such things anecdotally after I was barred from contact with them, albeit domestic rather than scholastic circumstances, and I hear that the boys just go all quiet and stubborn when asked to agree to something that they know is not true.
While I think the would would be a better place is there was a lot more dumb insolence in it, this isn’t about blowing my own trumpet.
Most people will either lie about who did it or grass Johnny up to the teacher, people like me are the outliers, I know this, but perhaps we are also the canary in the coal mine.
People who have more than a passing fondness for the truth, people who have already been butt-fucked enough for their fondness that they no longer hold out any hope of getting a fair shake of the stick, people who may not have been thoroughly honest all their lives, but people who do not have a pile of things accrued through lies and deceit.
The trick of course is to not be the canary in the coalmine, be the jackdaw in the trees outside the coalmine, let some other fucker be the lighting rod.
In hindsight, that is the lesson that it took me 30 years after school to learn.
February 1, 2013
January 31, 2013
January 28, 2013
The intersting thing about free will…
Is not that it isn’t free, but just how much of it is ruled by biochemistry.
I have wibbled on here before about Toxoplasma gondii, whichy makes cat piss smell interesting, and cat people, but there are better examples.
The guinea worm is one, you get it by drinking infected water, then it grows in the gut until it is as thick as a piece of spaghetti and 18 – 24 inches long, whereupon it burrows its way down through your limbs, and when it is ready to emerge and lay eggs and start the cycle again, it drives the host to water.
The point many people do not get, is these parasites are able to significantly influence the behaviour of the host organism, and it doesn’t really matter what the host organism is, human, oxen or goat, the same parasite is able to exude a biochemical trigger that has the exact same effect, not just across individuals, but across species.
Different parasites have different goals, and when you start to study it it is hard to come up with some aspect of human behaviour that cannot be either directly or indirectly influenced by the parasite
Which makes the whole concept of free will interesting, living in a modern technological society where were are effectively swimming in a biochemical soup all thanks to modern technology and mass produced products.
If a specific biochemical can trigger an interest in cat piss across species, and another specific biochemical can trigger an urge to go down to the pond or river and stand in the water, and so on and so forth, it isn’t really that much of a stretch to imagine a specific biochemical trigger that can make men more gay, or make wimminz more slutty.
In fact, it isn’t any kind of stretch at all, the contraceptive pill is nothing but a biochemical trigger, and I have been around this planet long enough and fucked enough wimminz to spot the marked differences in behaviour between a wimminz on estrogen, a wimminz on nowt and going through her cycles, a wimminz who is pregnant, etc etc etc.
Sure, it’s anecdotal, as is the observation that wimminz that drink over a litre of coke a day are all fucking cluster B and have a messy house, or the observation that wimminz who have had a lot of cock have a very high incidence of cervical cancer, or the observation that wimminz with blue cars don’t have steady boyfriends…
… but just because it is anecdotal doesn’t mean it is shit… red sky at night, sailor’s delight…
… which all reminded me of a crazy bitch I fucked years ago, she was every bit as crazy as the crazy I fucked last week, the word many will use is delusional… and she used to spout about the Nazi’s and BASF and Bayer and mind control through chemicals and all that good jazz.
To me she was just a crazy bitch and a good fuck, but about a year later I was talking to another guy who had porked her for a bit, can’t even remember his name, but he had a then brand new Yam XJ650, and during the conversation I found out he was a research biochemist, imagine my surprise when he tells me that in between fucking her they were talking and his job came up and next thing he knows she is hitting him with a whole load of (then) cutting edge biochemistry, and it was soon apparent to him that she was much better trained at his job than he was, she was in his own words world class and could write her own ticket anywhere on the planet, if she wasn’t so crazy…
But her “crazy” was insisting that all these big companies were collecting data on how various compounds could influence human behaviour, 30 years later she doesn’t sound so fucking crazy to me…
Now, I don’t pretend to know all the answers, or even a few of them, but I do find these to be interesting questions, and while I am the first to admit that correlation =! causation, there sure are a shit lot of parallels since around 1960 onwards to the changing environment in which we immerse ourselves, biochemically, and the way attitudes and society has changed.
The fact that we HAVE been performing this great biochemical experiment upon ourselves is not in doubt, where I would differ from the 1980 crazy is in suggesting that it is all deliberate and planned… if there is data gathering it is no wonder after things like Thalidomide, which could well have affected me if my mother took it during pregnancy, for I was of that era… nobody wants a lawsuit.
I share a lot of genetic material with one set of cousins, unlike them we always eat fresh food and veg, where they always eat frozen, the aunt in question was well known for having two chest freezers full of food and never any fresh foods in the house, “Mrs Bird’s Eye” she was called… so it is definitely a correlation that the cousins in question are all in poor health compared to me, despite the fact that I am older than all of them, but is it a causation… good question… I wish I knew the answer.
But it isn’t just health, there are broad and obvious behavioural differences between us too, as as far as nurture vs nature, well, one of their parents and one of my parents grew up together as siblings, so they came with common values and standards and history…
And when it comes to progeny, their kids bear almost no resemblance to them when they were little kids themselves, but mine are always seen as being “mini-me”.
Could this all be down to growing up eating processed frozen foods wrapped in plastics? Of course it could…but how to prove it, and even if you could what would be the point, you can’t go back in time and reverse it.
To this day, if I get the munchies I grab a piece of fruit or maybe a jam sandwich, biscuits and chocolate and crisps and pot noodles and suchlike are things I literally may eat once a year.
But then, in reality I am not a control specimen, I am just choosing to immerse myself in a different end of the biochemical pool that we all live in now, it’s not a deep or containing as many complex compounds, but it certainly isn’t 1950 style either…. maybe that by itself is sufficient to explain why my attitudes are perceived as being old fashioned.
January 25, 2013
January 24, 2013
Sitting on a rock with Otis
So it’s nearly 4pm, I am not yet dressed, sat here warming myself in front of a fire basically doing sweet fuck all.
Keep getting thoughts, I should be doing something, not vegging out here.
But then again..
…pauses while I make myself another coffee, scratch my balls and roll a smoke…
… I’ve lived long enough to know that sitting on a rock and not being the early bird is a valid survival tactic.
Particularly now.
See, one quite valid way of looking at human beings is their average personal daily energy expenditure… 12 MJ per day will keep the average human being alive and active.
12 MJ per day is about 3.3 kWh per day.
Now while a lot of shit is talked about how hard we had to work in olden days just to get enough to eat, the fact is, some pursuits that we did in the olden days really have changed.
At current UK energy prices, and as discussed elsewhere it doesn’t make a huge amount of difference how you buy your energy, mains electric at 15 pence per kWh, or 1.40 per litre for diesel (35 MJ per litre, or 10 kWh, so £1.40 / 10 = 14p) your are paying roughly the same for your kWh, roughly rule of thumb 15 pence per kWh.
My mobe has a 2 Wh battery, which lasts 48 hours, so the energy consumption is negligible, but the contract (unlimted calls texts and data) is a pound a day, at at 15p per kWh that means 6 kWh per day, that is double my physical requirements, but it is a tool, a tool that I use to bring in money, and therefore kWh.
So I am sitting on my rock last night and a chick I haven’t spoken to for 10 days or so sends me a text, hello, jane53 is back on the radar.
As a whole, as the proportion of my daily 6 kWh the mobe + contract consumes, this SMS is again a negligible amount, and this brings me to the real point of the sitting on the rock or the bay with Otis like a lizard, waiting for the sun to warm me, and waiting for my food to wander by, thing comes to.
I’m sitting on a rock waiting for the poontang.
I’m burning less energy getting poon than any human being in human history, not just per cunt or per fuck, but overall….
… pauses while I take a leisurely dump and piss…
… and this is, I feel, enormously significant from a natural world perspective.
Nature is endlessly adaptable, no niche is left unexploited, and so when presented with a way to lower the energy cost of reproduction, nature takes advantage of it, and so we have people like me, red pillers and technocrats both, who embrace the opportunities provided, even if physical reproduction does not issue from the copulation.
I think, as a species, we have missed seeing the 9 million pound gorilla in the room.
I have said it once and a million times, nobody could have foreseen or been prepared for the ways in which electronics and computing impacted and changed the ways in which we as human beings deal with currencies and accounting, indeed if you take computers and the net away from currencies and accounting, our banking systems must revert to the way they were in 1970.
The contraceptive pill and feminazi policies changes society beyond recognition, and again if we were to take away contraception, abortion and IVF etc etc and some basic feminazi social policies then society would have to revert to 1950.
The same is true of the whole internet dating thing, the immediacy, anonymity and above all minuscule energy cost required to use PoF or a swinging site has changed the way we go about getting sex.
As a poster in another forum said, “You can’t put the shit back in the horse.”
You can’t go back to the old ways of getting sex unless you eradicate the modern IT world, and make the energy expended per hook up go through the roof, back to what it was in 1960.
Speaking as a scientific man, I do not think ANYONE appreciates the consequences of this.
Lets round down my age to 50, and lets say I started fucking at 20, that gives me 30 years of fucking. 30 x 365 = 10,950 days… not a very big number… the last 12 years since the internet really started to take off is 12 x 365 = 4,380, and the last 4 years since powerful and capable internet connected smart-phones really started to take off is 4 x 365 = 1,460
Now let’s take a 50 mile radius of where I am, there are around a million females who will potentially fuck me… 30 years ago I had to choose between what was available in the bar I was in at that time, today I can have a smart-phone in my pocket and “signal” my availability via some hookup app / site, and take advantage of that far greater catchment area.
30 years ago if you were fucking a different wimminz every week you were either a rich playboy, a fucking liar, or someone who lived in a holiday destination where millions of white chicks flew in and out every day on package holidays.
Today if you are fucking a different wimminz every week you are just some guy with a smart-phone in your pocket, and the geographic catchment area of poon is much much smaller than the 80’s playboy or vacation island guy was porking.
Again, nature abhors a vacuum, so we are in a whole new ball game as far as sexually transmitted infections go, and I am NOT just talking a dose of the clap, I’m talking everything from insemination through bird flu through per-cancerous virii through you name it.
Yes, the wimminz now have a choice greater than the three eligible guys in their village, but so do men, and the energy cost / expenditure has dropped through the floor.
I have seen and done it fucking all sexually, the yank musclecar, the harley, the twin V8 powerboat, the yacht, the flash apartment, the high income, every peacocking fucking thing going, and I am here to tell you that you can put ALL that shit in one pile, along with the pill and rubbers and viagra and porn, and it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans next to the internet + smartphone, which is an Olympus Mons, the greatest sex aid ever invented.
But it keeps coming back to that energy expenditure in kWh per poon… which at no time in human history has ever been within several orders of magnitude of being this low, which is currently so low that it is hovering around the point where I might actually expend more energy actually physically fucking a wimminz, than I do it getting to that point.
You can’t change that cost back up to what it was without wiping out smart-phones & the net, back to the stone age baby.
And you can’t go back to the dynamic that existed throughout the entire history of the human race when it comes to relations between the sexes, unless you can change that energy expenditure per poon back to what it was.
This is profound in ways that are hard to express.
Marriage 1.0? Forget it..
Just today a married woman who has been cheating behind her husband’s back messaged me asking if I want to fuck her, or fuck her in a threesome with another guy, or fuck her in a threesome with a girl of my choice.
Marriage 1.0 along with Family 1.0 and Wife 1.0 and Girlfriend 1.0 and Sex 1.0 are all as dead as the dinosaur.
Repeal every feminazi law on the planet and it won’t change a damn thing, as long as the energy cost of meeting and fucking is now down on a par with the energy expended in the act itself.
The MRM is not merely dead, it is as irrelevant as tits on a bull… but the good news is so is the pwincesses’ vagina on a pedestal… nobody is going to crawl over 200 free cunts to get to one self entitled one.
NOBODY.
Jane53 knows this, instinctively, as many wimminz do;
- The energy expenditure for me to find her is effectively zero.
- She is just one bean on a plate of beans, she can blow me out after one fuck and the energy expenditure for me to substitute her is effectively zero.
- So the only game left in town is a net expenditure of energy on her part to keep me there, and to entice me back.
I’m the same age as Jane53’s dad… and I have had wimminz before who will feed and water me and all that good shit as well as drain my balls… but Jane53 was a first…
Jane53 wasn’t a first because she has an unusually male and practical brain for a wimminz, or any of the other stuff, she is a first because she said to me in her own words, with regard to me not having heard from her for nearly two weeks;
“… I fucked up, I made an assumption about you that was wrong, I don’t mind you fucking other wimminz, I’d just like you to not rub my nose in it…
… I know the worst thing I can do to you is lie to you, I know I will get caught out sooner or later, and so I want you to know that in the last ten days I haven’t been with anyone else, I haven’t been with anyone since you..”
There was more to it than that, again stuff I have heard before, but never in all my born days have I heard a woman say to me I know I will get caught out in any lies I tell, and I know you aren’t going to believe me because you are going to wait and see if I say or do something that indicates that what I am saying now might be a lie, but I ain’t been anywhere near a man since you, and I want you to come a take me and fuck me and use me…
And I expended sweet fuck all energy to get that, which makes it all the sweeter… lrfh
Now, ‘scuse me while I roll over and sun my other side.
January 21, 2013
Fucking Crazy
I was, last night, fucking a crazy that is… comes from the school of do as I say, not as I do, I guess, but anyway, there I was, fucking this self confessed crazy bitch who fried her brain’s biochemistry years ago on ganja.
OK, I wanted a fuck, but really the reason was this, when I started talking to her she reminded me of a crazy chick I knew and fucked in around 1980, bitch would go moo and maa and all that shit and smoke some grass and then take a handful of mogadon, and then we would get it on, crazy bitch but an interesting fuck.
So I took it in my head to do some brideshead revisited and fuck a similar ish crazy bitch 30 years later in real time, but 20 years later in crazy bitch time, as this one was 40 and had been hitting the pills for 20 years.
Shit that amused me back then was frankly boring as fuck when it came out of this bitch’s mouth, heard one delusion / psychosis heard em all, heard on tale of infantile sexual abuse heard em all, heard one vile attempt at poetry heard em all, heard one the aliens mind control nazis po-lice and coming to get me heard em all…
… and so it was that at 11 pm when I had finished plundering all her holes and dumping my cum, I did the whole make me a coffe bitch thing and got dressed, and set my phone to do the Fake Call Me thing in five minutes, drink my coffee, phone goes off so I give her the whole Babe-I-gotta-go-the-mothership-is-calling-we-are-moving-the-invasion-date-up thing and get the fuck out.
And so it is that as midnight strikes I am sitting in my warm german mothership listening to the muted beat of the straight six diesel at 2500 RPM on roads largely deserted because of the ice and snow, reflecting on the passage of 20 years of self medication on crazy bitches, and brothers, there are a lot of them out there..
And I move on to the other bitches on the production line and realise I have done it again, I have reached that stage beyond asshole game and arrogant asshole game and extreme asshole game and gotten to “meh” game, that cycle where my desire for new cunt is sub-zero, and any amount of pleasure extracted from dumping my cum is always exceeded by my distaste for the bitch involved.
As the miles hum by I come to realise something, the end of 2012 and the beginning of 2013 has seen a startling shift in wimminz, and I was too close to the cunt to see the trees.
Bitches are starting to get desperate and scared… it’s the fucking swansong and they know it.
In the last six months bitches have NO money, stories I have seen and heard, interest only mortgage (by definition, NONE of the capital paid off) with a year to run and ZERO possibility of a re-mortgage, bitches have to choose between buying food or buying heating oil, bitches have to choose between buying food or putting fuel in the car to come see me and get fucked, bitches being told their jobs are at risk, and they realise they have no savings and debt falling out of their asses, bitches considering getting back with their ex’s, because the ex is still working and has money, bitches who are accumulating broken appliances around the house, because they have to money to repair or replace, and so, in short, bitches who are getting more desperate and ironically MORE demanding, they less they have to offer and the greater their need.
Take back the night and take back the streets, the bitches are getting scared, because they can walk through the city in the day time in a week day and see less people about, less shoppers, very few people carrying bags from shops, and they are starting to feel alone and vulnerable, not a part of the crowd.
The city I was in last night fucking crazy is known for being an an area that paradoxically lost most of the native industry and so is poor, but also had a shitload of development money thrown at it, so there are gleaming new city centres and white elephant buildings, and out in the burbs it is all mass unemployment and petty crime and drugs.
The younger wimminz, in their twenties, can trade cunt for drugs, the older wimminz hand over their cash cards to the dealers who go to the hole in the wall every week and draw out the monies paid in by the state for child benefit and then hand over the dope.
Wimminz who fuck up have cash bounties put on their heads for s severe beating, and even I raised my eyebrows at the prices, spoke to one chick living in fear, she knew who put the bounty on her, and she knew it was £100, but she can’t even earn that sort of money on her back, not even at £10 a time because it is all she can do to get one guy to pay £10 to fuck her, mark to market economics at its best…. fuck me back in 1980 it was 50 quid for a good beating, and 50 quid in 1980 is worth at least 500 today.
I drove into the place at around seven pm, and from the motorway exit to the bitch’s flat I did not see one single pub or shop open, most of what I did see was not merely shut, but boarded up…. times are hard when not even the paki’s will move in and open a corner shop, and not even the chinks will move in and open a takeaway…
…and this isn’t even a sinkhole estate, this was a *good* area of the city in question…
To be honest this was largely why I decided it was time to do some fucking crazy, she lived in a city I hadn’t been to for a while and it was an excuse to go there and drive through it, thinking when she opens the door I can always decide no way and walk away, but when she opened the door it wasn’t that bad so I stayed and fucked it and got distracted from my alternate purpose by her crazy.
I’m glad I did, because otherwise the local picture is the only one you see, and you can end up with confirmation bias.
I’m also glad I did because fucking crazy was enough to tip me over the edge and complete another cycle of fuck / don’t fuck.
I’m also glad I did because the serenity of cruising back along deserted highways in the mothership gave me time to think and realise that lately the wimminz have been getting desperate and nastier with it.
I’m glad I did because all these things are feedback loops, they all play a part in my losing interest in fucking bitches for a while, and my losing interest in fucking bitches for a while allows me to see all these things a little more clearly than when dumping some cum is on the agenda.
As an interesting anecdote, fucking crazy is also convinced that 2013 is when it starts to go bad for real.
Fucking crazy reminded me of an old story, allegedly true. (this is from before the days of mobile phones and breakdown cover)
Guy is driving along a road in the country, and THUMP, gets out and finds one wheel has fallen off his car, the wheel is easy enough to retrieve, but of course the 4 wheel nuts are all long gone.
Guy starts cursing and kicking the shit out of the wheel in question, when he hears giggling behind him.
Guy looks around and sees a brick wall “St Eustatic Mental Hospital” on a sign, and this fella leaning on the wall.
Fella leaning on the wall says “HI, I’m a patient here, got a cigarette”
Guy thinks what the fuck, could do with a smoke myself to calm down, so pulls out the smokes, hands one to the fella and lights both up.
Fella says “Why don’t you take one wheel nut of each of the other three wheels, and use those three nuts to attach that wheel?”
Guy is impressed at this, and says so.
Fella says “Listen mate, I’m fucking crazy, not stupid.”
Related articles
- Noises (wimminz.wordpress.com)
- Giving a fuck. (wimminz.wordpress.com)
