September 13, 2013
September 12, 2013
It hurts, being a soldier, behind enemy lines.
In the postbag, stuff from guys toughing it out and swallowing red pills like ludes at a dead concert, yeah we know we are doing the right thing for our own survival, but why does it hurt so much?
In brief, it hurts because you are down behind enemy lines, on your own, it sucks, but it is better than being in the trenches outside Damascus.
It hurts, because not only the ones you correctly identified as your enemies are out to get you, but also those you formerly incorrectly identified as allies and colleagues.
It hurts, because it is lonely, you don’t have the faux comradeship and faux companionship you had before.
It hurts, because it is supposed to….
As for Damascus itself….
Well, in my day job, I turn up on site, after a bunch or resellers of resellers of resellers have resold a product, and outsourced parts of that product to four different suppliers at the end of four different reseller chains, of which I am but one.
The customer, the site, it is a major high street brand with over a thousand outlets in mainland England alone, you know the name, hell, you’ve probably spent money there yourself.
Fact is I could pull a couple of other equally large or larger jobs out of last weeks diary, the only reason I don’t is I couldn’t give *any* clues about who they are or what they do, or you would immediately know exactly who they were, but, the story is *exactly* the same.
So 5 site visits in a row to 5 different sites, and in every one, I cannot do the job I was there to do, and the reason I cannot do it is not;
- that someone else forgot to tell anyone to do x
- that someone wasn’t told by someone else to do x
- that x itself wasn’t documented and planned up the wazoo
you get the picture.
No, the problem in every case is that everyone prior to me in the process has played their part, but the process itself is specifically designed so that no one person has any knowledge or interest in what those following on are supposed to do.
So one guy will come alone and install a new cabinet over there next to the spare power sockets, and another guy will come along and install the dsl/pstn lines over there next to the existing phone sockets, and the distance between the two “there’s” exceeds the length of the RJ11 cable supplied to connect the two together.
And nobody has done anything wrong, and everyone, even me, who doesn’t do the job he turned up to do, can get his paperwork signed, and everyone goes home happy, except the customer.
When things *do* work out, it isn’t because everyone is working to IS0/BS/six sigma or any of that crap, or because everyone is a certified nintendo developer, or because the whole project is managed and documented so well.
It is because there are enough people in the system like me, with a spread of knowledge and experience much broader than my job description calls for, who can go the extra mile in some cases, and use their fucking brain in others, so that the next guy in the chain can do his bit and forge another link in the chain.
Not *because* of the system, but *despite* the system.
If you think the fields of politics or economics or war are any different, you’re in for a rude surprise…. especially if you find yourself in a trench outside Damascus.
So, enough time has passed I can tell you a true story.
Anyone who has been in the armed forces knows it moves on bullshit paperwork, just like the jobs I describe above, with the added pleasure of you yourself being a thing with a number, not an intelligent free agent like I am at work.
So, let’s call him Pete.
Pete is an army driver, he is given orders and papers, go to the motor pool, draw a truck and 30,000 litre trailer, go here and fill the truck with diesel, then go here and deliver that 30,000 litres of diesel, then bring the truck and trailer back.
So, all goes well until Pete gets to his destination with 30k litres of diesel, and he is told we got no room, the bunkers are full, go away.
Pete goes back to the fuel depot, told to go way, no paperwork for no 30k litre delivery.
Pete goes back to his base and the motor pool, told to go away, no paperwork for a truck and FULL 30k tanker trailer.
Pete goes to a pub down the road to ponder his dilemma, everyone has been scrupulous in doing their job, nobody has done anything wrong, in fact to fix this problem, someone would have to exceed their authority and do something wrong.
Pete sinks a couple more beers, pondering all this, and a friendly local farmer offer to solve his problem, he will buy the 30k litres of diesel, at a discounted price, of course.
Pete sells the farmer the diesel, returns to base with an empty truck, waved straight through, job done, paperwork filled, away you go brother.
Of course, sooner or later the missing 30k litres was flagged and Pete got dishonourably discharged, which in reality didn’t bother him a bit, saved him 5 more years in the green.
Ok, we all know Pete did the wrong thing, but the situation he found himself in was not one of his own making, and if he hadn’t had that exact same sort of shit every other day of his life, he might have done the right thing that day.
SNAFU
But things become slightly more likely to escalate out of control in totally unplanned directions that have no stop, pause or rewind buttons, when you are playing around in potential war zones.
And if excuse like “but I did everything my job sheet said, and I got it signed off” or “but I was unable through the actions of someone else to complete my job sheet, but it clearly wasn’t my fault, so I got it signed off” become ever so slightly more annoying when we are not talking about a customer whose site is hard down with no net connection, but when we are talking about a village and 5,000 inhabitants turned into grit and brown paint.
So, brothers, it may be unpleasant to find yourself down alone behind enemy lines, but it will get several orders of magnitude more unpleasant if you are dumb enough to stick your head up outta your foxhole and ask where the pussy has gone.
September 11, 2013
Michael Evil (sic)
So, after spending a year dishing dirt on the guy, the meedja now want to know what’s wrong with the fucking system… any old lies to sell more copies and ad impressions eh.
One the one hand, no evidence of any kind is sufficient to drag him into court, but no evidence of any kind is suddenly insufficient to drag his false rape accuser into court, funny that…
and now I want
to say something
VERY, VERY, VERY
fucking important.
Every single fucking time this happens, some cunt trots out the platitude that at the end of the day there are only two people who really know what happened, the accuser and the accused.
Speaking as one of the accused, allow me to clear that point up, the accused knows he didn’t fucking do it, or anything even remotely like it, but let me assure you of one thing, one of the truest and most profound things you can say about any many falsely accused of rape is not that he is one of two people on the planet who know what really happened, he is in fact the one person on the planet most in the dark and confused about what happened.
To this fucking day;
- I do not know what happened.
- I was one of the last to hear that the po-lice were not going to charge me
- I was only given sight of my lying psycho skank ho ex FRA’s actual testimony in court, in my case a seekrit family court, in mike evil’s case a criminal court
- I (like mike evil) was not permitted to see my accuser in court, the cunt hid behind a screen, everyone else could see her
- I was the one person on the planet not allowed to contact my accuser, or anyone who knew her, to ask WTF was going on
- etc
- you get the picture
I really do wish the guy all the best, as I say that as someone who couldn’t stand the soap he was in, or his character in it, or his acting, and on any other day I would have said he deserved 20 years for it, but that was all a bit tongue in cheek, what he went through was real, and it isn’t over.
On the contrary, the news is now filled with stories of the soap directors offering him a quarter of a million quid a year, so there is 250,000 reasons for more false accusations to come out of the woodwork.
He is however slightly better off than the other celebutards charged but awaiting trial, as his trial was such a fuck up there will be vastly increased pressure to get a conviction on one of them.
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September 8, 2013
Edumacashun
It really does bother me how widespread ignorance has become, it bothers me more how profound those levels of ignorance are. I don’t have to give examples here, you can all think of them, from lack of basic education in maths / science / history to genuine dumbass stuff.
But.
It is a mistake to equate lack of intellect and education with lack of cunning, and it is a truism that those with some intellect and education vastly under-estimate the efficacy of raw cunning, usually by claiming it is not applicable here.
I spent much of this weekend talking to, and listening to, some of the gutter yoof of today, mid to late teens stuff, and of course I was their age once, and I have a functioning memory, so I can see where a lot of their shit is coming from, but I can also see some remarkable shifts in degree, in many areas.
I spark up a cigarette, I know smokes aren’t a health food, but cancer is a possibility / probability some time down the line, it is not an immediate concern, immediate concerns are I want a smoke, a coffee and a blowjob…. these are things I want today, I’m not going to forgo those pleasures today, because there is no guarantee I get anything tomorrow, so I grab it when I can.
Discussions about Syria or the petrodollar or fiat currencies are discussions you can’t have, they don’t know and they don’t care, they care about what is in reach, right here, right now.
Discussions and plans for tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, those are for rich cunts, even paying the landlord at the end of the month, that’s a long way away, here and now ain’t.
Making a series of instant gratification choices as they are presented by opportunity doesn’t require any intellect, nor does knowing any of 200 or so “trigger phrases” that can be spurted out on demand to produce a pavlovian response in whoever they are said to, for immediate advantage to the sayer, whether it is how to get a “loan” out of the social security to how to bullshit the po-lice or the magistrate.
I haven’t done drugs for years, many years, but when I was young I did, and me being me, if it was worth doing, it was worth doing to excess.
To put it bluntly, I spent months at a time, with the odd very rough day interspersed when I was straight, and I was hanging out with, according to common knowledge, the most dangerous and despicable elements of society, and I am not stupid enough, even under a blogging pen name decades later, to put any of it down in writing in any detail, but I laughed real hard when I first read some of Hunter Thompson‘s stuff, hey bro.
During this period I was particularly fond of acid, and so I spent a lot of time totally whacked on the stuff, and came to understand dogs extremely well indeed, and by extension, people.
If you ever really wanted to know what it would be like to be a creature with a smaller brain, but still an intelligent creature, such as a dog, just do loads of acid and spend time with your dog, preferably out in the woods.
Life gets sliced up into lots of small things, and those things absorb your entire attention, until the next thing intrudes and pushes that moment away to make way for the next.
If I say “vinegar” you can taste and smell it, and if I think of one of those times out in the woods with the dog, I can smell not just that dog, but that breed of dog, and to this day I can recognise that breed of dog by how they smell, it’s a good smell, I had good times with my dog.
If you had been around in that area at that time (late seventies) you might on one occasion have seen a guy in leathers sat on a proper outlaw hardtail chop, one built to run and run fast and corner well, in a car park of one of the new supermarkets, high on acid and toking on a spliff with a sawed off shotgun casually leant against the sissy bar, while my bro was off in the supermarket in question, it was his gun, he left it with me to go in and take a bottle of scotch, I can’t remember your faces, or the exact town or supermarket, or the exact month or year, or what specific reason the guy was carrying for that day, I remember there was one, but can’t remember what it was, I can’t remember much about worrying about the po-lice, or anything else.
I can remember in very great detail the sunlight showing off the engraving on the stock, and noticing and marvelling at the similarities to the engraving on the sissy bar, and realising (duh) with a whoosh that REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED who did the engraving on the sissy bar for me was a gun smith too, and next thing I know my bro is back with the bottle of whiskey, “time to boogey” he says, and off we go.
I can remember later than day a veritable convoy of po-lice vehicles surrounding us, they were looking for a couple of bikers with guns, we didn’t have any, my bro had gone off and done whatever it was and returned, apparently without the gun, I didn’t know and never thought to ask until after the po-lice left us, we weren’t the ones they were looking for, we had no weapons, and all bad-ass bikers look alike to the straights, and it was all no big deal, over as soon as it was over.
Just one of many many many moments in a life lived moment to moment, thanks to the intervention of drugs in my case rather than any innate don’t give a fuck attitude, and yet I slid through it all relatively unharmed and unscathed, simple animal cunning was what did it.
I really do have to stress that point, whatever intellect and “what about tomorrow, and next week, and next month” smarts I had were suppressed, chemically in my case, but the method doesn’t matter, the results do.
Even functioning only on animal instinct, it is extraordinarily hard to truly fuck up, because said animal instinct is a *lot* smarter than we want to accept, intellectually, and yet, it is only there as a by product of millions of years of evolution, it SHOULD be good at this shit.
I had occasion to go back to that area some time ago, and bumped into some people who knew me, or knew of me, back then.
Much to my surprise, and disquiet, I apparently had an awesome reputation as a very mean, very dangerous, very badass individual.
“How the fuck can you possibly say that, I never hurt anyone or did anything to anyone!” was my reply.
“No,” the guy says, “you were way too cold and smart for that.”
“What the fuck are you on about?” I ask him, while noting that he is growing uncomfortable, he is thinking I am angry with him, thinking about my past, that he thinks he knows about.
He tells me, “I was sat right here, and you were sat right over there, and REDACTED who wasn’t exactly a big softie say something about ya missed me cos of beer coming out of a bottle, and you just jerked the bottle and it spurted out and hit him in the face and said no I didn’t”
Now that he mentioned it, I did sort of recall the incident in question, he continues..
“so REDACTED grabs the bottle from your hand, smashes it against the table and raises it to shove it in your face, and he freezes, and the whole fucking pub goes quiet watching, and there you are, as usual, no expression on your face, looking at him right in they eye, with that small smile of yours.. no reaction, no flinching, nothing, stone cold bastard, waiting to see what he would do, and after a few second he puts the bottle down and walks away”
I tell him, “dude, I was on acid 24/7, you don’t think, you don’t plan, you don’t analyse, you feel, you react, you experience.”
I could tell, he wasn’t buying it, and trotted out a couple more stories, to which I gave him the exact same answer, he still wasn’t buying it, but then, he had never done acid.
My dog was smarter than him, my dog would not have needed the explanation, yowf…
Heinlein kinda said it in his 1941 short story Logic of Empire
But it is intellectual mind defending itself by ascribing intellect and intent to actions by others that outwit it, because to accept otherwise is to accept that intellect does not trump everything else.
You got outwitted by a dumbass, dumbass.
Ouch
Any “education” that does not, as a priority, teach the student about the inherent dangers and weaknesses of that education, is itself suspect.
Back when I was being taught engineering, much of what I was taught was what engineering could not do, and the myriad ways in which things could go wrong, and leave you worse off than when you started.
A simple example is using plastic metal to “fix” a leaking compression fitting, the correct fix is strip the union, clean it up, new olives and maybe some PTFE tape, once you use plastic metal you have to cut the offending section of pipe out and make a new one.
Engineering is no longer taught this way.
Nor, it seems, is anything else, from economics through politics to sociology.
And it is these “last week I couldn’t even spell engineer, now I are one” types that rule the roost, they have an education, they know this because they have been told it is so, not by any empirical analysis.
And while I would not wish to praise the total lack of education of the yoof of today, and to a slightly lesser extent those in their twenties, and a slightly lesser extent those in their thirties, the less edumakayshum you are burdened with, the more chance there is for base animal cunning to come to the fore, hopelessly short sighted and amoral as it is.
They are not necessarly burdened by this lack of an edumakayshum, whereas they would all benefit from an education, but that has been systematically destroyed alongside the rise in feminazism and the rise of the state.
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September 5, 2013
Politicians, managers, wimminz…
They all appear to have one thing in common.
They all have an idea, a plan, an agenda, that they are pushing forwards, and reality on the ground and anything and everything else contradicting this is simply dismissed as not being relevant, or representative, or important, or real.
This is why Syria is just the latest in a series of geopolitical events to trouble me.
Cameron doesn’t know anything about the reality on the ground in various parts of London, much less say rural Dorset, yet they are pontificating about a completely different country with a completely foreign culture and history and geography.
And yes, I get the whole they are just puppets and figureheads thing, but that is just an excuse, the same could be said for Assad or Putin or anyone else.
It is all shades of claiming that Jim Carrey was actually a wuuuunderful thespian, and so he should have no personal blame attached whatsoever for being Ace Ventura etc. Bollocks, he took the fucking money, so suck it down.
You kill something by cutting off the head, if it is just a figurehead and the creature still lives, you achieved two things, you killed the whore acting as figurehead, and you revealed the nature of the creature that employed it.
The internet achieved that decapitation process, not as well as it could have, but more effectively than everything that went before put together.
Just one lifetime ago Goebbels and his peers knew that all you had to do was tell the pubic that X is an enemy and means us immediate harm, and up until that point that had been true for the entirety of human history.
True, satellite TV broadcasting and so called media groups that control television, newspapers, radio, film and music all under one roof are a pestilence, but they aren’t the only game in town.
I know *lots* of intelligent people who publicly subscribe to all sorts of off the wall cults, the more ludicrous the better, and they don’t actually believe one iota of it, it is just camouflage and an opportunity to party and meet in the flesh, and in reality they are hip to what is going on, and mercilessly cynical and sceptical of *everything* spoon fed by the MSM.
Are they paranoid?
Well, it is only paranoia if the other guy isn’t out to fuck you over, and by any actual metric you care to use, the greatest threat facing any individual western citizen at the moment is his own state, and his fellow sheeple.
If person X is able to make decisions that adversely affect my life, which in a modern technological society means there are a *lot* of person X’s out there, do I really care if their MOTIVE for that bad decision was because they thought they knew it all, or they had an agenda to push, or they were pre-occupied with the latest episode of Draghi Boo Boo or Syria’s Got Talent or I’m a Shi-ite, Get Me Out Of Here or Scud Factor?
Back in the days when we fought actual dirty on the ground wars with infantry, it was well known that a friendly bullet would kill you just as dead as an enemy bullet.
Ideas and beliefs and agendas are the same as bullets, a friendly one will fuck you up just as much as an enemy one, there isn’t one iota of difference to you.
Don’t kid yourself, it is amateur night out there, a bonfire of the vanities, and these are the people both pulling the strings and acting as willing puppets.
September 4, 2013
Dating is a job interview.
Bear with me…
Take a look at the picture, imagine it is not a mirror image of the same girl, but two views of the same girl, your view, and my view.
You see a beautiful young wimminz, I see a filthy lying whore.
What’s the difference?
I have some data about her that you do not.
e.g. your opinion is based upon nothing more than a LACK OF DATA.
This is the basis of AWALT, all wimminz are filthy lying whores, no exceptions.
Now let’s say this wimminz is actually known to you personally, but not known to me personally, so you have some known data about her, specifically, and I have none, specifically.
Make any difference?
No, because YOUR opinion is still based upon a lack of data, whereas mine is based upon the fact that I have only ever found scorpions that have stung, and scorpions that have not yet stung, I have never yet seen a peacenik scorpion that I will let sit on my cock.
================================================
So here you go, you are a wimminz and you meet me, your first and major fuck up is that you do not view that process as an interview for a job, a job with one vacancy.
- You think you can go trawling around a bunch of other potential employers, and I am going to sit here with the patience of a saint, just in case one day you might want to take the job.
- When I say take the job, I mean of course turn up 10 minutes before quiting time, do your nails, fuck around on your iphone, and then demand to know where your fucking holiday pay is.
- As / when / if you get an interview, eg meet me, which will only happen if you treat making an early appointment and turning up on time, eg as someone keen to get the fucking job, hearing that you had 497 other jobs that you quit on the day you got them, you know, because the boss was a fucking asshole, doesn’t really endear me to the idea of taking a chance on you and hiring you.
- One previous long term employer that you parted with on good terms is the thing to aim for.
- Like any other job, turning up with your womb turds doesn’t make you a candidate for employee of the month, while there is the danger of maternity leave for the single wimminz, in your case it is guaran-fucking-teed that there are going to be constant days off and early quits because junior has some lego lodged in his ass, plus, there is the danger of future maternity leave too.
- Turning up with an unknown and un-checkable history doesn’t do you any favours either, I’ve been trying to fill this vacancy for 30 fucking years, and I have heard every variation of every story at least fifty times, you are not a precious snowflake and I don’t buy your bullshit excuses.
- Expecting to get instant holiday pay, company expense account, directors car parking spot, and company medical and a promotion to CEO within 4 weeks doesn’t fly either, the job being advertised is cock and bottle washer and sammich maker, with the potential for advancement through the ranks, by becoming an invaluable employee.
- Expecting, at the end of the interview, to be able to sign a cast iron contract guaranteeing you everything, but asking nothing from you, with no possible sacking offences, that I can’t get out of, isn’t going to make me think you are the next Tesla and everything you touch will turn to gold.
- Having previous jobs as bukkake and felching queen and general 2 dollar whore and miss gangbang 2009 is likely to adversely affect your employability in a role that ultimately reflects upon the company and myself, ditto skank ho tats and piercings.
But, it is not all bad news…
- You *can* take the cards on the table, ex con looking for a fresh start, willing and eager for an opportunity to shovel shit, approach.
- The above approach doesn’t mean I see you as less, see the pictures above, you merely confirmed that data that I knew was there anyway, but, the reason you get the look in is you chose to not to try to bullshit me.
- This approach better not end the instant the interview does and I offer you a period of trial employment, as many wimminz have found, the instant the no bullshit approach ends, so does the fucking job.
- Being an overweight 5 isn’t a drawback either, I’ll get over firing your fat ass a lot quicker than if you were a sex bomb 10.
- If you need extra, come to me BEFORE you go moonlighting.
- If you call in sick to go moonlighting, don’t even bother coming in for your back pay… I already used it for your leaving party.
- There are plenty of get rich quick con schemes out there, but this is a REAL job, with prospects measured in decades, it’s a steady living.
- The more work YOU put in and the more loyalty you show the company, the better your long term prospects.
- You can do a hostile takeover, but 3 seconds after your ass hits the MD’s chair the company ceases trading, the guy you just sacked took the customer base with him, 100% of them, forever.
You get the idea lay-dees….
AT this point in time the company has “progressed” to the point where merely getting an interview entails you blowing the MD (me) on the directors couch.
It may not be NASA, but a skanky ho like you ain’t even getting the URL of the fucking contact page from them, and no fucking way are you going to the moon, but at least this little wrong side of the tracks porn company has good capitalisation and a long term future ahead of it, which will put a roof over your head.
I find THIS singularly appropriate to post again.
Grab a beer, pull up a chair.
Is my life the way I expected things to be? Is my life the way I hoped things would be? Is my life the way I dreamed things would be? Is my life the way I would like things to be?
The answer of course is NO
When I was a small boy dreaming of growing up to be a train driver or racing driver or astronaut, nowhere in my dreams was a future where everything about being a man would be despised and punished.
As a small pre-pubescent boy girls were stupid and boring, so frankly speaking a world in which they turned into worthless sluts wasn’t anywhere on the plans, as girls weren’t anywhere on the plans, so no big deal, and the only thing likely to have changed that for a 7 year old is who is gonna cook my tea?
But, a part of the process of growing up is the realisation that dreams and reality are not the same thing, and the gap between the two is not altered one iota by how much you want X to be true, all that changes is how much it hurts every day.
I never set out to socialise with men who apparently beat the crap out of their wives, raped the shit out of them, indulged in crazy obsessive psycho behaviour towards them, or wanted to fuck their little children… if I had I would have chosen an appropriate career.
In most cases of course I never actually meet or speak to or communicate with these men in any way, just the wimminz they did all this shit to.
I myself am not that kind of man.
So why do I find myself, if not increasingly tolerant towards such actual behaviour, then certainly feeling like I have more in common with these guys, whether they be alleged abusers or rapists or paedophiles, than I have in common with their alleged victims?
When a wimminz lies to a man, at the point that the man realises that X was total bullshit, while he may feel a brief flash of anger, the predominant and lasting feeling is wanting to puke.
When a bloke watches his ex on a fuck site picking up verification after verification from different people every week, 99.9% of what he feels is wanting to puke.
It isn’t a desire to kill her, or rape her, or beat the shit out of her, and if any of those feelings appear they are usually there for no purpose other than to mask the feelings of wanting to puke.
Putting yourself in proximity to that wimminz, where you can say something genuinely monumentally stupid like “why?” and actually think you are going to get an answer that isn’t total bullshit, is no more than the height of folly.
It is that “not grown up yet” thing, where you think that somehow, just because it hurts REAL bad, there must be some way to bridge the gap between your dreams and reality.
If you really really really believe hard enough, you can fly.
Your first vehicle crash, your first accident where you broke something expensive, or where your actions injured someone, or where that fire got out of control, or where you lost something really important to you.
Think back, what you felt was wanting to puke.
It is a natural human reaction when presented with a situation where the carousel stops turning and the music stops playing and there, right in front of you, is a big yawning gap between how you thought things were, and how they clearly are now.
Abject immediate and total fear for your very life will make you void your bowels and bladder, you will piss and shit yourself, a natural and evolved reaction to enable you to better survive what is right here and right now a life or death situation.
Presentation with having to face the gap between what you thought was so, and what clearly is so, is not life or death, so your body learned a different natural and evolved reaction, puke your guts up.
Ask anyone who ever got shitfaced, puke your guts up and 10 seconds later you are relatively clear headed and able to think, 10 seconds is way too long in life or death fight or flight, but it is just fine for needing to hit the turbo boost button on your brain to assimilate the difference between what you thought, and what is.
AFTER you have puked your guts up, and faced reality, the best word to describe what you feel is melancholy.
You don’t feel BAD, you feel SAD.
ohgodIamnevergonnafuckingdrinkagain is said by people who have not puked, but should have, those who have puked feel an immediate improvement, and either get back at it or wipe the bile from their mouth and say damn that was some nasty shit.
All those “no” answers at the beginning, if they make you feel sad then that is fine bro, you’ll live, and if they make you feel bad then you might not, because you ain’t puked that shit up yet.
Wimminz and their cupid stunts ain’t alcohol and diced carrots, you can’t call huey and ralph down the porcelain pipe and rid your body of the poisons that make you want to puke.
But like when you first broke something or hurt something, it is a virtual, a mental version of alcohol and diced carrots, so you have to do the mental equivalent of hurling that shit out of your body.
If watching “your” woman with another guy, or hearing about it, or reading about it, doesn’t leave with you not much more than a bit of sadness and melancholy at the sheer waste, then you need to puke that shit outta your head and heart until that is all you can make yourself feel, even if you try, most times not even that, cos you ain’t trying to pick at that scab.
If it still makes you want to puke then you have not squared what you thought was, with what was, and you need to get that shit sorted, pronto, and only you can do it bro.
Only way to do it I know of is to embrace the reality, and laugh at yourself for being such a stupid cunt you ever bought the fantasy.
The new guy upstairs is gonna get treated the exact same way the old guy upstairs was, he just don’t know it yet.
So her girlfriend turns up and all three of them go out in her shitbox 2 door compact car, guess who rides in the rear seats….. it ain’t the slits.
So what did the old boyfriend actually lose, (his clean record, his flat deposit, his liberty for a bit) with respect to her?
Serious question.
Only things he actually lost were never actually there, so he never actually lost them, they were never his to lose, sure, he had fantasies and dreams, and when the time came to puke them up and that bile rose and he was puking in his mouth, like a good beta simp he swallowed it all down again, yummy, please sir can I have some more.
So I watch a skank I fucked for a while until she lied to be slide further down the gutter, and how she is around the level where she is meeting people who (unlike her tales of allegedly abusive raping ex’s) really genuinely don’t give a flying fuck about her, they are there to use her and use her hard as long as he puts up with the ever increasing demands, rinse and repeat.
And so we are back again to where we started, where frankly I have more sympathy with them, than with her, even though they are pond life at best.
Accept *that* reality, and all the wanna puke feelings are history.
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September 3, 2013
Despicable me
It is a thing few men grasp, and no wimminz will admit, and that thing is just how much they despise themselves.
Wimminz *know* their shit is self destructive, but unless you come along and wescue da pwincess, at gunpoint, against her will, then clearly you don’t care about her enough, and she will continue to drink battery acid, and either way, it’s all your fucking fault.
There is an old argument about nurture vs nature, but like so many things it like it doesn’t have to be either, it can be both.
You can have a pre-disposition to get lung cancer, and you can live in an environment that has lots of things that are carcinogenic.
The presence of both of these does not mean YOU as an individual is guaranteed to get cancer.
The absence of both of these does not mean YOU as an individual is guaranteed to not get cancer.
It’s a fucking lottery, some things make the odds longer, some make the odds shorter, but part of the game is you can never know your own odds.
Having said that, there are things you can take about 10,000 steps back from, climb a hill, look down from a different perspective at statistically significant numbers, and start seeing real trends.
I saw one (trend) when the iphone came out, a wimminz friendly feature phone that got the internet, suddenly wimminz had a portable cock finding tool, and hooking up with random wimminz for sex got dramatically easier.
Like the cancer shtick, you can’t pick an individual wimminz with an iphone and say for a fact she is using it to find cock, but, statistically speaking, you’d be a fool to bet otherwise.
Change the environment, change the behaviour…. sure, there has to be some pre-disposition, but the fool argues over nurture vs nature, the wise man simply observes and accepts.
Add sex / dating / swinging / fucking sites to the internet, you change the environment, and so you change the behaviour.
Add no fault divorce and award of the kids / house / car / alimony to the wimminz, you change the environment, you change the behaviour.
“Where have all the good men gone?”
Same place all the mammoths and dinosaurs went, environmental change / hunting to extinction / global warming / asteroid impact / choose your poison, doesn’t matter what is on the label, if it changes the environment that’s all there is.
When I was a young man in my twenties, it was only types like itinerant carpenters and carnies and spivs who would fuck borderline legal or not legal yet girls, and sit there with a shit eating grin when anyone said anything about cradle snatchers.
Nowadays I see whole rafts of niggerz, and wimminz, on fucking sites targeting skank ho single mommies with young teen kids, and yes folks, it is for the purpose of fucking said teen kids…. that shit has got a *lot* more common, despite the fact that the laws against it and punishments for it have apparently gotten much stiffer.
The reasons I have heard for this behaviour are new, 30 years ago it was “because they are too young to know I am a pervert, I tell em all women take it up the ass“… nowadays it is “because she is less of a cunt than her mother, so far…“
But when you change the environment and start dressing pre-pubescent girls in hooker garb, and shame everything that was anything of “traditional” male-hood, then what you got left is mini skank ho’s in training and no good men left.
Give a skank ho single mommy (and by definition, unless she is a fucking widow woman, she is a skank ho single mommy) a boy child and she will turn him into a mini beta niggerz, give her a girl child and she will turn her into a mini skank ho.
There are NO exceptions to this, there might be as individuals, but statistically speaking AWALT, so you’re a cunt if you think you will ever meet one.
I have had deep meaningful and honest talks, one on one, with *many* wimminz, all of whom agree privately with me 100% that they are on a self destructive terminal slide into the gutter, and every single one of them will have some crack ho type bullshit excuse for why they can’t quit the self harming behaviour.
Captain save a ho doesn’t realise the depths of depravity and despicable acts that she has already sunk to, she *knows* nobody worth a fuck would give a flying fuck about her, so anyone who professes to is truly suspicious, or stupid… same think to skank ho’s
Two numbers, A and B
A is the average number of men the average wimminz claims to have fucked, when speaking to a new man.
B is the number of these average skank ho single mommies who have made it clear to me that if I want to get all kinky with their pre-pubescent daughters, that is OK with them. (to be clear this is kerb time)
A is of course a lie, and low balled. You’ll often hear shit like 12 or 15, often less, it is a complete crock of shit of course, but nevertheless, A is what they claim, usually.
B is not a lie, it is direct personal experience.
B is not zero
B is not, from memory, double digits, it could be, but this is outright offers made to a man who was clearly already walking, in order to keep him / entice him to stay, god alone knows what it would have been if I was the pro-active one.
When I have these deep meaningful talks mano-a-mano with these wimminz, if they have boy kids I say that simp is gonna move out and never come back as soon as he can, and they look at me like I cooked and ate their pet hamster, but you can see all over their face they see the truth in my prediction….. and if they have a girl child I ask them when they are going to pimp her out, and they look like I wrapped their pet hamster in cling-film (so it didn’t burst) and fucked it to death, before cooking and eating it, but you can see all over their face they don’t wanna get into that with me, cos they know they are raising a mini slut… skank monkey see, skank monkey do.
Which brings us right back to the beginning, and the subject in question.
Because of the ever present blue pill wish in 100% of all men that they had found “the one” and lived happily ever after.
You don’t find penguins in the Sahara.
You *used* to be able to find hippos in the River Thames, but, you know, the environment changed, the glaciers moved, now you just find condoms and turds.
Thinking otherwise is like coming from a long line of men who died of lung cancer, and having an 80 a day habit, and sparking up another one off the embers of the last.
This bitch you just met, you just don’t know enough about her yet, the only important fact is she lives in the same fucking environment as all the other lying skank ho sluts, do you feel lucky, punk, well do ya?
August 31, 2013
August 30, 2013
Accoms wanted
Mate of mine, in reference to stuff I have said about wimminz and the worsening economy, said go check out the accoms wanted section of gumtree in your area.
why? I asked him, just do it bro, he says, so I do, while he watches, grinning.
Damn, 85% of the adverts are wimminz looking for cheap / small / rooms / studio places to stay, and 85% of these wimminz are young wimminz, early to mid twenties. What’s more, they apparently have no womb turds to complicate matters, or to get them free social housing, depending on how you look at things.
It would appear that being born with a cunt as a form of career might well be losing its executive status….
As he says to me about the wimminz upstairs who moved a new guy in within 5 days of the old guy getting carted off in handcuffs by da po-lice, you don’t really expect the bitch to (be able to) pay the fucking rent by herself do ya?
It reminded me of a case I know of personally where an FRA was made, and the wimminz in question also asked the judge to kick the guy out of the house they both rented together, claiming he was a deadbeat anyway and she paid all the bills. She also attached a list of all the furnishings that she claimed were hers, even though she had bought none of them.
So the guy said fine, knowing what was coming, before the judge could actually make the order, he called his bro and spent 24 hours moving out and his shit, giant tv, motorcycle engines, welder, that sort of shit, and called the local house clearance people to take everything else in exchange for him paying them the equivalent of 100 bucks or so, then spent the remaining time blitzing the place clean top to bottom so it was in identical condition to when he moved in, took pictures of everything, including the two cardboard boxes of her clothes, and the one piece of furniture she had actually bought, a sideboard.
Hands the key back to the landlord and walks away.
He hears back from the landlord three months later that the bitch moved in, then six weeks later gave her notice in, seems she couldn’t afford to run the place herself, which is strange, because she should have been BETTER off, what without his dead beat ass to support.
That’s the thing about “independent” wimminz, if they really are independent and living off their own wages, they never have a pot to piss in, and at best live in a room in a shared house, but “friends” it ain’t.
If they have a pot to piss in, then they are never independent, some way or another it is always big daddy state contributing heavily… or some dead beat guy whose resources they are living off, while telling the world & dog that they are actually supporting him.
Of course wimminz always were suckers for status.
You could give a guy a job title of “shit shoveller”, pay him 30k a year and he would be quite happy.
You can give a wimminz a job title of “manager”, pay her 15k a year and she is quite happy.
In my day job I walk into retail outlets run by wimminz and niggerz “managers” on this kind of money, 16k a year, they work antisocial split shift hours in retail, and they act all happy when regional management get on the blower and set them a “challenge” to defrost 3 freezers a night when the shop is shut.
I don’t have the heart to tell them that the one hour I am spending in their office reading something on my Galaxy Note 10.1 while on hold to Mumbai waiting for the green light to move the patch cable from port 5 on the switch to port 17 is the only work I will be doing that day, and I’m on more money than them… and I get other benefits.. and a free car and fuel… and expenses so my lunch is paid…
Speaking of which it is basically September now, and management have sent me an email reminding me that I *still* have 19 days of (paid) holiday to use up before the year’s end, which is basically a month off.
I do so wish I was something important like a “manager” and not some lowly “oh, you’re the internet guy”…
It is such a trial having money in the bank, and no-one to spend it on except myself, and all bills paid in full the instant they land.
It was so awful that last month the skank ho I was banging regular-ish was a bit short at the end of the month, well, she was driving herself over to my place every week which was 100 miles each way, so I bung her a fifty saying here you go, pay me back when you can, and she made huge protestations of paying me back cos she don’t take charidee.. no siree… before sticking her tongue up my ass in gratitude.
So when it came time to kick the bitch to the kerb and she made noise about paying me back someday at 5 cents a week I could just be all cool and say hey, no worries bitch, keep the fifty, nobody can say I don’t pay my ho’s…
it was one of those “priceless” meme moments
That shit made me smile for a whole week.
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