Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

October 12, 2013

Just how honest would you like me to be?

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 2:54 pm

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?8124529600_b3d6a8a504_z

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…

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:49 pm

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

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2451460/AMANDA-PLATELL-In-new-Bridget-Jones-toyboys-wild-romps.html

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..

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2451464/The-REAL-reason-grown-women-like-wont-leave-home-And-parents-beware-make-blood-boil.html

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

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 10:06 am

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;

  1. Which is safest.
  2. 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

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:59 am

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.

  1. Advert is true
    1. Person A visits advert and likes it
      1. Game on
    2. Person A visits advert and doesn’t like it
      1. Game over, you aren’t compatible, no sale today
    3. Person B visits advert and likes it
      1. Game over, they are dishonest, you won’t like the price
    4. Person B visits advert and doesn’t like it
      1. Game over, you are honest, they don’t like the price
  2. Advert is false
    1. Person A visits advert and likes it
      1. Game over, your deception will be revealed
    2. Person A visits advert and doesn’t like it
      1. Game over, you aren’t compatible, no sale ever
    3. Person B visits advert and likes it
      1. Game on/over, you’ll make the sale, sure, but you’ll regret it, deeply.
    4. Person B visits advert and doesn’t like it
      1. Game over, you’re a liar, so are they, no foundation of trust, no sale

So, out of 8 possible outcomes;

  1. One (1.1.1) gets you the “sale”, ching ching. Je ne regret rien.
  2. One (2.3.1) gets you the “sale”, brick in an iPad carton.
  3. One (1.2.1) doesn’t get the sale, but doesn’t alienate the other person.
  4. 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.

October 5, 2013

Mitch the cunt

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:59 am

Got a mate, his name isn’t really Mitch, but it ain’t a million miles away… he plays the swinging / fucking / dating sites too, though we tend to move in different circles due to the colour of his skin, or more precisely the colour of his cock.

Cunt made me choke on my beer with two little stories he told me.

First one is thanks to tineye, he finds that this chick he picked up via PoF, where she has one kind of profile, also has a profile on a fucking site, which says quite different things, so he says to her how about sticking your tongue up my ring-piece, and she starts acting all horrified and outrages, so he whips out his smart-phone, pulls up her profile on the fucking site, where rimming is listed as one of her interests.. what;s more it turns out that since he saw her last a few days before she has had a verification on the fucking site as the filling in a MMF sandwich.

He said her face ran through expressions like Hauser’s mask in Total Recall

Yeah, and then she blew up, cursed him every name under the sun and threw his black ass out.

So he was back to the grindstone and gets a message from this skank, and he shows me the profile, and it is all about how she fucking hates liars and dishonesty and shit so just be up front with her about what you want yadda yadda yadda, and then it gets to the bit where she mentions in closing that she has a husband who doesn’t know she is on a fucking site so she can’t accommodate and discretion is expected.

And the final line is “no blacks or asians”, and Mitch’s profile has a handle that starts with the word “black” and has three pictures of various parts of his body, all black… cos Mitch ain’t no milk chocolate type nigga, he is proper Nigerian black.

And he says to me, genuinely at a loss, what the fuck was I supposed to say to her? I literally have no fucking words, so I said the first thing that popped into my head that might put her off, I told her my profile was a bit economical with the truth, as he is actually a pre-op black transsexual.

Next thing he knows, she is calling him Master and worshipping him and talking about their future together, and bombarding him with messages and pictures etc, he tells me he is scared to visit that fucking website now. He is only partially joking.

I choke on beer again.

I guess it was a *lot* funnier for me because I know the guy personally and know the back-story etc. etc. etc, for example Mitch knows the whitey skank only wants his black cock because they see him as somewhere between human and animal and that makes their cunt throb, but for his part he only got into fucking white skanks because black skanks were even more mental and poisonous.

Mitch is my “black eye for the white guy” in shades of queer eye for the straight guy, in some areas, he sees shit I didn’t.

My part of the UK you can walk around and see almost no non white faces, I can go into town and back and literally count the non whites on the fingers of one hand, not so in the cities in the rest of the country, so my town is wholly unrepresentative of the nation as a whole and our cities as a whole, which is interesting when it comes to the demographics of the internet, whether it be a dating site or a fucking site, it all goes into the melting pot.

Except it doesn’t. the only black or indeed non white faces you find on a fucking site are men like Mitch, with the odd very rare exception that is female, and again it is count on the fingers of one hand stuff.

On dating sites the trend is not so obvious, but once your eyes are opened to it you can see the disparity.

It’s not to say that black / asian / whatever chicks don’t fuck around etc, they do, AWALT, but they don’t use dating / fucking sites like white skanks…. if you’re puzzling over why, to Mitch it is as obvious as the nose on your face, these sites are all run by whitey, and no it’s not “racis” he says, with a laugh, when the target it whitey.

Mitch has a mate who I have never met, he refers to this guy as the “Nigerian Eskimo“, guy spent a lot of time living and working trucking in the high latitudes of the Americas, mainly based in Edmonton and Calgary, and guys compare notes, and he tells me the Nigerian Eskimo was telling him if you want a truly fucking frightening experience get involved with all the freaks there living the new “poly” lifestyles and constantly updating /r twitter and their blogs…. he said it was like a lot of insane brains kept in jars doing a stream of conciousness vomit 24/7 and he likened it to an infectious mind plague, not the the surreality that you can sometime get if you wake up to 1/10th consciousness in one of your own dreams, but being 100% awake and lucid in and realising that you are living in other people’s collective dreams, with not a hind of conciousness or rationality anywhere…. apparently the Nigerian Eskimo eventually got so freaked by it all that one day back from a run he walked out the the apartment, left the door open, left all his shit apart from clothes and stuff in there, drained his bank, got in the old Caprice and didn’t stop until he got to Yuma, a year later and he found himself in the UK driving night trunking to mainland Europe and back.

Way Mitch tells it, the Nigerian Eskimo got seriously seriously freaked, as in seeing evil spirits and virally infectious memes spreading, they a’comin to get ya, and he (Mitch) used to laugh at this shit, but this last week, Mitch dunno any more, it don’t seem so funny any more.

Got another friend, was in the town he works last week so stopped by for a coffee and a chat, made me realise something, part of why I like my job is I am in a different place every day, almost never see the same site or the same people twice, but what I realised was that it’s been 7 years or more since I was in any kind of gig where I did see the same people every day, and that doesn’t just mean I’d forgotten how that was, it means I haven’t seen the changes the last 7 years have made to that environment either.

This friend is head of IT with this company, and he is talking like the Nigerian Eskimo, he can’t take it no more, it is changing and evolving, no longer what it was, no longer non toxic, no longer sane, no longer conducive to retaining sanity.

Now I have never met the Nigerian Eskimo, but it strikes me that him and this guy are like me and Mitch, on paper we don’t have shit in common, but on the sideband off the carrier where it counts, oh yeah, there’s all kind of stuff going on, plate of shrimp…lol

“It’s in the fucking can, that’s what you don’t understand” (you have to watch it all)

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October 3, 2013

Living in de Nile

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , — wimminz @ 7:51 pm

Its a thing, being in denial, a thing we all do to a greater or lesser extent.

Obama saying he ain’t shifting, so if the republicrats stick to their guns too the US may default on it’s debt obligations on the 17th….  and…? It’s not like the US *****CAN***** pay off it’s debts even if it wanted to, it is literally underwater, and all a debt ceiling raise will do is the same thing as loaning some sucker who is underwater on his McMansion even more money, so they can make another few mortgage payments…

It doesn’t reduce the margin by which they are ****ABLE**** or ***EVER WILL BE*** to settle the debt they owe…

Of course, this can only possibly end one way, captain calamity, total collapse of the US economy and world war drei, as everyone knows, but, everyone is living in denial.

There are basically two forms of currency.

  1. Fiat
  2. Representative.

When the US$ was backed by gold it was a representative currency, when it gold standard was abandoned it became a fiat currency, and the great think about fiat currencies is you can run the printing presses 24/7

The above statement in red is living in denial.

There is a third form of currency, and it is the sort we all use every day, and that is a purely electronic currency, the few remaining notes and coins are merely fiat tokens of said electronic currency.

An electronic currency doesn’t even need a printing press or ink, just one person to type at one keyboard

10 FOR X=1 to 1000000
20 OPEN $FED_TOTAL_MONEY_SUPPLY FOR INPUT
30 INPUT +1000000000
40 NEXT

You can do that other shit too

10 OPEN $FED_TOTAL_MONEY_SUPPLY FOR INPUT
20 INPUT (DIVIDE BY 1000)
30 OPEN $CURRENCY=”DOLLAR” FOR INPUT
40 INPUT $CURRENCY=”NEWDOLLAR”

(apologies to all the coders for the nonsensical code)

At a stroke I can replace 1,000 “old” dollars with 1 NewDollar.

That wad of used twenties 6 inches high is now worthless, that sweet half a mill stashed in your retirement fund account is now a mere 500 NewDollars

Don’t say it can’t be done.

Don’t say it won’t be done.

Don’t say ANYTHING without looking at at exponential curve, which is what, by definition, interest is, which means interest on the national debt etc etc…..

Two things make that exponential growth ramp up.

  1. Ramping up the rate of interest
  2. Ramping up the amount borrowed

So, by definition,  only two things can pull that exponential growth back to the shallower slopes of the curve.

  1. Lowering the rate of interest
  2. Substituting a much lower amount borrowed.

Lowering interest rates has been done up the wazzoo, you can’t go lower than fuck all.

The only trick left? Yup, divide the number showing the amount borrowed, and by a big chunk, divide by 10 is pointless, unlike interest rates this is a trick you can only pull once a generation, 100 ain’t enough, it will only buy a year or two, but divide by a thousand… now we’re talking.

 

September 29, 2013

A moral vacuum…

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , — wimminz @ 3:19 pm

Few, if any, things in life are binary.

Let us take an act, for now we will forget the issue of whether the act is illegal or not, right or wrong or not, and concentrate just on how it would make us feel, if that act were done to us.

There are two aspects to it;

  1. Do I have the urge, eg does it profit me somehow, or do I have no urge.
  2. Do I have the opportunity.

Item 1 can actually be subdivided, to whit;

  1. Do I have the urge?
    1. Is it legal?
    2. Is it, by my compass, immoral?
  2. Do I have the opportunity?

Let’s say the act is to take a 20 out of your wallet, but, it doesn’t really matter at this stage.

The *one* thing that is binary is;

  1. Do I do it?
  2. Do I not do it?

To a large extent, all that matters to you is do I do it, if I do not do it, the WHY I do not do it doesn’t really have a great deal of bearing upon you.

The lawmakers and enforcers would take the opinion that (from the red text) not only are there almost no cases where 1.1 / 1.a does not play a part, however small,  in preventing me from doing it, that part, however small, is never insignificant, even if for no other reason than pour encourager les autres…

To make this so, YOUR role in the question (in the blue text) is always insignificant, no matter the temptation or provocation MUST be discounted.

Generally speaking I make a pretty good neighbour, I won’t steal from you, attack you, or some such, is this because the law says I must act so, or because of my own internal moral compass?

The answer is my internal compass,  when I was at school I stole something, from a guy who had just stolen something from me, it was called “rough justice”, I admitted it and the head said he had no option but to sack me, though he shook my hand and wished me well, the boy I stole from denied all knowledge of anything except my theft from him, so he was not sacked, and went on to become a figure of note in The City.

So, essentially, we have the difference between the law, and the moral compass, the law will always make an act illegal, no matter what the circumstances, which is what happened with Jeremy Forrest, the teacher jailed for five years.

The moral compass is however subject to the ambient environment, and as such may at times be just, where the law is manifestly unjust and wrong.

Despite being falsely accused of rape by the psycho skank ho ex as part of a child custody battle, not being a rapist, I dunno what makes em tick, is it the power, or the violence or what, I literally have no idea, and despite fucking loads of wimminz with rape fantasies, it is not something that *does* anything for me sexually.

The law, in this case, does not protect a single wimminz anywhere on the planet from me.

Long before it could ever be a factor, my own moral compass shit-canned the whole idea.

It can be argued, since many actual crimes are committed every day, that the “law as deterrent” simply doesn’t work, those who have no moral compunction against mugging pensioners certainly aren’t deterred by the law, in fact the only instances where the deterrent of the law works is in low level stuff, like parking tickets, driving insured, and driving sober, but even there there are those for whom it does not work.

I have never ever ever heard of a murderer (and yes, I have known a few) who saw the law as a deterrent, just another obstacle to be overcome, like the problem of disposing of the body.

So, we have a situation where, if you exclude the low level stuff, for which the law is nowadays arguably a sledgehammer to crack a nut, it basically does not achieve any of its stated goals, and 99% of the civility in society is down to nothing more than individuals with their own moral compasses.

The problem here is moral compasses are firmly rooted in the flux of the ambient environment, when society breaks down, suddenly it is not just your wallet that I might take, you canned goods and your life might be just as appealing.

Unfortunately, in this scenario, the law has ceased to exist.

So, logically, we have a situation where the law cannot exist in a place where the vast majority of the population does not enjoy stability in the ambient environment, thus giving rise to the better aspects of human nature, and allowing the moral compass to function.

Historically we can look at things like the texas ranger and the travelling magister / village headman, they only dealt with the exceptional transgressors, much of human activity did not fall under the auspices of the law.

If we look at modern western society, which historically speaking are right up there on the edge of dysfunction and collapse, we find unprecedented levels of the total manpower and output of said societies devoted to “the law”

Again, in these societies, we see the same things over and over and over, that the law has become so overpowering and far reaching and complex, that it has *dramatically* reduced the scope of the moral compass left to the average man in the street.

Not only can I not steal you wallet, I can’t tell the truth about you because you were born with a vagina, or black, or disabled, and I must give preference to you in all things, and in fact YOU are the one who is not merely entitled to MY wallet, you are entitled to my future earnings for the next 30 years, with no proof of any kind required that said monies go anywhere even remotely near the auspicies under which they were taken from me, eg child care.

It costs around £10 a week to feed a large dog, and it costs about the same to raise a child, everything else is excess.

In my own FRA case the state spent, thanks to legal aid for the skank ho and all the court hangers on and childcare specialists and shrinks and cops and so on, well in excess of a quarter of a million quid, coming to an answer that everyone knew they would get to from the outset, mummy is god.

Karl Marx was WRONG, you don’t destroy the family and alienate men or anything else to destroy a society.

You just make the law so powerful it smothers the moral compass of everyone in society.

Historically, this has never ended well.

How times change.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 12:43 pm

I just met some stupid skank who is going on a solo backpacking trip to Thailand, she is excited but one part of the deal that gets no thought or attention whatsoever is the flight over there.

When I was a baby it was called Siam, and the flight was three days, not so much because of the top speed and range of the piston powered DC-9 and Constellations and Super Connies of the day, (There were deHavilland Comets too, but not enough to run all the services) basically converted wartime bombers, but it was hugely expensive, so certain minimum levels of comfort and relaxation were required, and of course instruments weren’t that good, the flight navigator had to actually navigate, albeit with RDF assistance, so if you were flying London to Singapore it was two overnight stops in hotels.Air_France,_Sud-Est_SE-161_Languedoc

The alternative was going by ship, I did that once too, 28 days journey time.

You could write a letter, par avion, on thin cigarette paper notepaper, often blue, and the envelopes had a red and blue pattern around the edge, and would take a week to arrive.

If it was really urgent you could send a telegram, that should get there in a day or so.

*BIG* businesses with offices around the globe by the late seventies had the Telex, think of it as a 50 baud point to point SMS.

We had one of the new fangled e-lec-tro-nic transistor (as opposed to thermionic valve) radios, it was a good one, it had a whole twelve transistors inside it, it said so on the front, and you could get long wave, medium wave, and short wave, (for the BBC world service) and of course it was all AM amplitude modulation, nobody had heard of frequency modulation.

We got our first TV in time to watch the moon landings, 425 line VHF band with a tuning dial and variable capacitor just like a radio, black and white of course…lol… and you could tell when any of the neighbours cars points and coil ignition systems needed a service…lol

We got a phone then too, you know, in our own house, in the hallway… I can still remember the number, 811, of course if you wanted to ring anyone outside the town you lived in you still had to dial the operator, (“Whitehall 1212” to be connected to scotland yard) as STD standard trunk dialling or direct dialling hadn’t come in yet, (it actually didn’t cover 100% of the UK until the late seventies) hell, the ability to direct dial local numbers without needing an operator to make the circuit was all new…

You could actually navigate by the phone lines, because the cross trees and insulators were always on the same side with respect to London.GlenTay Train wreck 4

When I went to school you got handed a little book of tables, log, sin, cos, tan, etc That and a pencil and a piece of paper was how you did your workings, if you needed to work faster you could use a slide rule, three digit precision pretty much, but in reality that was enough for most real world calculations.

This was all long long long before you actually saw the first pong game in the shops, or the first LED digital watches, or anything else to do with the silicon chip, which was still a pipe dream.

As a boy from the age of 12 onwards I made *many* solo and unaccompanied journeys comprising of a train from wherever I was in the UK to either Reading or London, grab a bus or a cab from there to Heathrow, find my flight, check in, board it and arrive at a destination half way around the world.

By *many* I mean when the then BOAC started their first jet services in the late fifties, even though 99.9% of the routes and flights were still piston & propeller driven, there were a great many Englishmen working abroad in all corners of the Globe, doing what Englishmen did, building the railways and mines and shipyards and so on, pretty much all ex-servicemen, and of course they all had kids, and so it was quite common for those kids to attend school “back home” and fly out for school holidays, depending on how senior (well paid) your folks were and how much they disliked you, you could get flown out once, twice or three times a year, so you could easily do six flights between London and Singapore for example per year… so BOAC brought in a thing to keep all these little shits well behaved called the junior jet club, I think 7 was the lower age limit, and every flight you got 5 minutes in the cockpit in flight and your little book stamped, and you got certificates at 125k, 250k, and 500k miles…. of course it didn’t take long to add that up, and by the time you were 12 you’d dumped all that crap and the stupid “unaccompanied minor” lapel pin that meant the BOAC staff would look out for you…. do you know where you are flying to little boy, would you like a drink, lol

Tickets and all were of course pre-paid and pre-booked, but looking back I used to carry astonishingly little cash, probably fifty bucks in today’s money.

In theory you could make an international phone call, but I personally had never heard of anyone who had done such a thing, and I knew people who owned and ran fucking huge multinational companies, either my dad worked directly for them or I knew their kids…

I could go on and on and on, but, you get the idea.

—————————————————————————————

Perhaps, just perhaps, it is because I come from a time when communication was either face to face, or slooooow, you didn’t expect instant gratification, it could take a week or more for the letter to get there, and a week or more for the reply to get back..

So on the one hand I find the whole modern “what the fuuuuuck!!!! I sent the cunt a message three whole fucking minutes ago and I still haven’t had a fucking reply, what the fuuuuuck!!!“ rather amusing and stupid, on the other hand I do come from a time when each communication was considered valuable, so SOME FUCKING RESPONSE would be nice, not some “lol yeah” either, a fucking response, with content and meaning and information.

In part this is because of the modern obsession with “multitasking”, but of course there ain’t no such animal, all there is is “time slicing” and if you find yourself unable to hold six face to face conversations simultaneously or make six phone calls simultaneously or play six games of chess simultaneously, then it really is no wonder that you fail utterly at using a variety of different methods to;

  1. whatsapp person #1
  2. sms person #2
  3. sms person #3
  4. web/mail/portal person #4
  5. email person #5
  6. kik person #6

all the while checking fuckbook and twatter and so on.

If you chop the time slice for any of those jobs below the minimum required to do that stage of that job properly, then you just added to the noise and detracted from the signal for all the rest of it too.

I see this ALL THE FUCKING TIME, particularly with wimminz, but to be fair not a hell of a lot less with guys, they are operating under information overload and as a result the instant you drop off the mental radar you are forgotten.

It is the same process whether you are waiting for an update to a job in a work email or waiting to her from a skank on a fucking site, you just may give more of a shit or be more annoyed by one or the other, because it matters more to you personally at that moment, but, to the other person involved you are just noise that fell off the radar.

You were lost in the immediacy and urgency of the moment.

It’s nothing personal, you fell off her radar, someone else stayed on and got their balls drained.

It’s nothing personal, in fact, that is exactly it, the time slices are cut so thin there is no room left for anything personal, and so the obsession everyone has is with what they do not have, not what they do have.

Apart from an empty belly, I have yet to meet a dog, or any other animal come to that, who spends any time at all worrying about what they do not have, and they are better for it.

I could sit here and make no changes of any material kind whatsoever to my life, and start worrying about what I do not have, including all the hundreds of wimminz that have not sent me meaningful personal communications, and ruin my life by doing so, because I would end up unhappy with it.

Or, I can sit here and be a dog, actually I have everything I fucking need, hell, I have things that were beyond any science fiction to the little boy I once was, and be extremely happy and content with life.

Sure, there are things I do not have, but the lack of them does not detract from what I do have.

The bitch who started this thread off, her “backpacking holiday” will be centred around her fucking iphone, and taking selfies, and updating her fuckbook page, and roaming charges and wifi hotspots and mains charging adapters, and her life is sliced into time slots so thin she might as well have stayed at home and joined Second Life, because lets face it, her first and only real life is passing her by in multi-tasked slices too small to achieve anything of merit.

 

September 28, 2013

When you buy a new Mercedes..

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 1:52 pm

… suddenly you start noticing mercs everywhere, when you are hungry, suddenly you start noticing food adverts everywhere, etc. etc..

That shit was always there, you just didn’t notice it.

Same thing goes for the red pill, and the part of the red pill that has to do with the everyday decisions that wimminz make, that shape their lives…. that shit has always been there, but you never really noticed it, before it was just an invisible part of the background picture.

As mentioned previously in the dummies guide to what wimminz want, once you swallow the bit of red pill that says wimminz logic functions on don’t want, not want, things can start to make sense, if you let them.

A bit like the old joke about the easy way to confuse an Irishman being to set three shovels against a wall, and tell him to take his pick, one of the “conundrums” I see wimminz face regularly is this;

  1. spend a night with one guy who wants one single wimminz to fuck
  2. spend a night with several people at a party, who want one single wimminz to fuck

Akshully it’s not much of a conundrum, more is better, right, not because more is better, but there is the illusion of potential choice for the wimminz “don’t want” logic, whereas if she picks the single guy, well, she can still choose don’t want, but then the evening is wasted eh… lol

The conundrum comes afterwards, when they went to the party and did don’t want to the whole party, and the single guy says you shoulda chosen to spend the night with me, and she says yeah, and the single guy says what are you gonna do about that then bitch?

And she will say “I dunno”

And she doesn’t, because “don’t want” logic works the opposite way around from male “want” logic.

Now, I want to mention something, and that something is the availability and quality of toilet paper in Ghanzi, Botswana.

WTF?

If you think of your brain as a CPU, until I mentioned that little fact, you had devoted a total of 0 CPU cycles to that subject, and so when I raised the subject you were all WTF, and prety much dismissed the entire subject from your brain, no more CPU cycles devoted to thinking about it, instead allocating a few to see what the fuck I was going to say next, by way of explanation.

If I talk about motorcycles, or sailing, or rock music, or milling machines, or any other subject, I am only ever talking to a proportion of the male population.

If I want to talk to all of them, all I have to say is something along the lines of “There is this girl, you know, 90% of what she is and what she is about is fucking great, but man, that 10%, you know she will not stop doing this crazy shit that is fucking up her life and ruining her kid’s future options, and I’ve talked to her and she knows this shit and knows I am right, but she just won’t stop.. WTF?”

Instantly 100% of men hear what I am saying… and start thinking, eg devoting CPU cycles, to thinking about a wimminz, if only she would change, stop doing this, start doing that, yadda yadda yadda.

Unlike the botswana bog roll, you *are* devoting CPU cycles to the conundrum of the wimminz, and THIS IS A COMPLETE FUCKING WASTE OF YOUR BRAIN AND TIME.

People do what they are gonna do, wimminz particularly.

You can’t change the fuckers, help them, save them, educate them, look after them, care for them, influence them, any of that shit.

The red pill here is how many CPU cycles are being devoted to wimminz, and what they want, what they need, what they should do, etc.

I want to tell you two small true stories.

wimminz #1

I have fucked her on and off, she was good enough at it and otherwise obedient and amenable enough, that I made her my standard offer, put me in change and I’ll let you become my own personal slut, and as a by product your life generally and the future outlook for your womb turds will improve dramatically.

Needless to say while deciding what to do (lol, see previously re don’t want logic) she decided one night she didn’t want to talk to me and wanted to fuck someone else, and then lied to me about it.

Fine by me, your life, your choice, as I said to her later, she asked if I hated her, said no, don’t care enough to hate, and you were a slut before and another ten or a hundred cocks ain’t gonna change that any, so I’ll fuck you again, but that offer of being my own personal slut, that’s history bitch.

I’ll fuck her again, only a matter of time.

wimminz #2

Unlike wimminz #1, this one decided she wanted me, s in she didn’t want to not have me, so we fucked now and again, and a year or so later it dawns on her that she isn’t making any progress with me in transitioning from being a fuckbuddy to a relationshit, so it is toys outta da pram time and she find herself another guy.

Now this is all violins and roses and romance and soul mates and all that crap, the full on top fuel dragster start from meeting the guy to cohabiting within a fucking week, and everything is fucking wonderful. According to his words and texts etc. this dweeb is *totally* into her.

This is what she always wanted, right. … right… riiight???

Well, no, last week she calls me, “for a chat”, I put it to her, and call her a liar when she denies it, until she admits it, that what she wants is my cock. I don’t give it to her.

Two days later she calls me, her day off, he is at work, she is having a new dishwasher delivered and some nonsense about some tool / spanner / thingy that can’t undo some connection thingy so she can pull the old one out for when the new one arrives.

I tell her, you just want me to come over there and fuck you, because you know if I do come over there I will fuck you.

She dissembles.

I push the point, and she admits that I only have to say the word, and she will kick the love of her life out and “be mine again”…

I decline to go over and fuck her.

She dissembles about “cheating” on this guy with me, it’s OK to kick him to the kerb to fuck me, it’s OK to let him think he is the love of her life while craving my cock, but apparently it is not OK to fuck me while she is still with him,

I tell her you cheated on your ex’s… she dissembles.

I’ll fuck her again, it is only a matter of time.

So, two small true stories, both running concurrently to one another, both these wimminz are MOTHERS who are supposed to be putting their fucking kids first….

I devote zero CPU time to em, except;

  1. when my cock is actually wet inside them
  2. when they message me as part of the process leading up to item 1
  3. when comparing an entirely different wimminz actions, by way of reference.
  4. when illustrating a point, such as here

The rest of the time I am quite happy to devote my CPU cycles to idle, watching flowers on the wall and captain kangaroo, or playing video-games on my noo pee cee, or just fucking chilling.

The one you have to watch, as a man, is item #2 on that list.

It is all too easy to cross the line from casually batting the ping pong ball back in their faces, to actually giving a shit and trying to win that game and attain the goal at the end of it, some new cunt to pump.

While we are on the subject, I also devote zero CPU time to consideration of my own life from a blue pill perspective, have I achieved anything, am I successful, do I have a great career, etc etc.

It is lunch-time on a Saturday and I haven’t even got dressed, haven’t tidied or run the hoover around, haven’t done any of the 20 jobs on the back burner, this is me time, chill time, played a little skyrim earlier, caught up on work emails and shit for next week, typed this crap, drank coffee, smoked some.

Now I’m going to install and play Far Cry 3 at max gfx settings, just because I can.

And like bo peep, all those skank ho’s out there that I have exchanged the odd ping pong message with and are on the possibly list, well. they’ll take care of themselves, they’ll come through or not, on the day they decide they don’t want to not have my cock any longer, wagging their tails behind them, and the best way to make that happen is to devote zero CPU cycles to it.

 

 

September 27, 2013

I was stunned into paralysis. I had no words – this never happens – and I just felt short of breath

Filed under: Wimminz — wimminz @ 7:40 am

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2434172/Quin-Woodward-Pu-Sought-revenge-guy-dumped-dates.html

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