Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

January 6, 2012

When Friday feels like Sunday.

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

Very weird out there now, just got back from banging one of my skanks, which in this case means driving back through the entire breadth of one of the UK’s best known south coast seaside towns…

… and it is fucking DEAD out there, the streets are fucking empty of vehicles, the pavements are fucking empty of pedestrians, and the establishments that are open are empty of fucking customers…. and it is a FRIDAY, and reasonably early (but not too early) and unseasonably warm, and dry, and it feels like it should be 3 am on a Sunday, not fucking 8/9 pm on a Friday…

Part of the reason I was out, instead of fucking the skank again and staying for breakfast was that the skank obviously decided that our second fuck-date was an ideal time for the psycho skank ho shit test, she started telling me about what a violent and evil bastard her ex was… cue Fake Call Me, an excellent Android app that I got turned on to at work by a guy who uses it to get out of meetings (“What, there is a burning smell coming from the server room?”   lmfao) the pro version is excellent because it not only calls you, it will play an audio file that purports to be your caller, so you can take a call in a silent room or take a call on speakerphone, superb, so my response to this “my ex was a nasty violent man” shit test is to pretend to check my texts, and set Fake Call Me to call me in 5 minutes and play spike.mp3, which is a recording of Spike telling me there is a burning smell in the server room OMG panic panic come quick (I have done one for him too) and so on and so forth, exit stage left, nice and clean, no fuss, no arguments, no hassles.

So, wondering if it was just me, I took a look at http://www.webcamgalore.com/EN/United+Kingdom/countrycam-0.html and what do I find? A bunch of empty roads like the set from 28 Days, not what I expect from a Friday night, party night.

So I am left with this weird feeling like I used to get, back in the days when I used to go to the cinema, which was a long time ago, but the sort of weirdness you got after seeing 2001 A Space Odyssey or Tron and then walked out into daylight in your local town, zap, only this time I walked from a bedroom with a skank ho and her shit test, into a country and economy that appears to have flatlined while nobody was paying attention…

I mean we are only ONE FUCKING WEEK into 2012 and to all intents and appearances everyone is completely and utterly fucking broke, not even any wriggle room left on the plastic, and then I started hitting the smaller towns and villages on my way home, and noticed / remembered a funny thing.

The places we all used to congregate as kids, the places all the kids used to congregate in, the places are still there, but the kids ain’t, so they will be at home interacting with other kids via high tech virtual comms, so there is a parallel there, all the bars and pubs were empty, so no chance of picking up some skank there, but there is always the high tech virtual comms world of PoF and the like, and in fact the real streets turning into sets from 28 Days is only going to drive more eyeballs to the virtual world… and of course it was a virtual person that Fake Call Me used in order to give me a nice clean exit from a real world interaction with a skank ho, to the cocoon of my vehicle and eventually home here to my techo-hermit-crib…

Of course it makes perfect sense, if money is tight then comms in a virtual world provides so much more bang per buck than the real world, but similarly the virtual world is virtual… lots of shit just doesn’t fly…

Over the past couple of years I have become quite the expert at converting from the “cold sell” on PoF to the physical pump that cunt and dump, with minimal effort, virtual or real, and zero effective expenditure, and the wimminz really really really do not “get” it, compared to real life, which means all the advantages that wimminz tend to enjoy in real life just do not play out in the virtual world, there is no herd, there is no wingman, there is no toilet to dash into, no nose to powder, no drink to get someone else to buy, no “you and him” to “let’s you and him fight over me”, no nothing… not even the allure of actual flesh…

Suddenly it is a minefield for the wimminz, and one wrong move means “KTHXBYE” from the man, and with no other wimminz to commiserate with that means the wimminz are basically in the position of asking the man what they have to do, buy you a coffee, ask you back to theirs, give you all the kinky sex you want and no chat / shit / hassle…

Interestingly enough, this new paradigm, where “take no shit” virtual chatting up leads to take no shit fucking pump and dump, makes me even LESS interested in wimminz bullshit, shades of playing call of duty all day making me more callous and bloodthirsty when I enter a warzone, but in this case making me more impatient and jaded, pump and dump and as soon as they money shot has spurted fake call my ass outta there…. the next one? fuck, the supply is essentially unlimited, like the next zombie to shoot in some game, or the next car to steal in GTA, which brings me full circle, to the realization that the skanks that you DO see, for example walking out of the local university at lunchtime, all look like GTA hookers, they all smoke, and dress and walk and act like the sluts they are.

I guess this economic crash is going to be a lot more interesting that I had initially assumed, because the new factor in play is that the virtual world is going the play the role of the third world in manufacturing and service industries, our actual streets will be a ghost town, while the virtual resources are made to fit the outsourced and vastly cheaper new environment, and while girl with a dragon tattoo may be all the rage in broadcast holly-weird world, in the interactive virtual world the role models for the wimminz are more GTA whore / PoF slut / Fuckbook trout pout / etc

For the wimminz, “one cunt to rule them all” has turned into “game over man” while nobody was watching.

January 2, 2012

You say po-tay-toe, I say pah-ter-nity


This one really does come under the heading of shit you can’t say, because they will shoot the messenger.

I am of an age, my folks were fairly well off, which is why I was able to discover dad’s 8mm cine film porn stash, and by accident find in there a home movie of my saintly and pure mum fucking some other guy…

Most kids my age didn’t have parents who were wealthy enough to own their own multimedia recording and playback apparatus, VHS was still in the design stage and at that only recorded broadcast TV.

Fast forwards to 2012 AD and most young teenagers have their own multimedia recording, playback and distribution equipment, mobile phones, and are busy producing what can only legally be classified as extreme child pornography.

You always find unusual answers in unusual places, you talk to someone who does blood work and tissue typing in a hospital department that deals with transplants, and instead of an interesting conversation about organ donation, transplants and organ rejection and suchlike, you have a completely different kind of conversation in which you do not discover just how many “fathershave been cuckolded, you find out how fucking few have not

You hear things like 35% being an absolute minimum head in the sand best possible case scenario for the percentage of kids who are not in fact fathered by the man they think, with a real world sensible figure of at last 50%.

Then you go on the internet and read all about skank ho’s and bad boy sperm… I have a confession to make, it is a confession to myself, just because I did not rape my psycho skank ho ex, or do any of the other shit she accused me of… that doesn’t make me a saint… I have been the proverbial bad boy…. that is what attracted her to me in the first place.

Just as I have probably spent most of my life minimising my “bad boy” ness, 100% of manginas and niggerz minimise their pussy whipped-ness, shades of “Physician, heal thyself“…

Being brutally honest I guess I always got away with being a bad boy because I had a certain charm, a certain style, an easy smile, I never hurt anyone, never stole from them, perhaps I could describe myself as a “bounder” or a “cad“, but again, perhaps I am romanticizing it.

What label should you put on it when your wife tells you she isn’t in the mood, then sneaks downstairs to blow the house-guest every morning and night? How about when it is a mother and a daughter, how about when it is two sisters, how about when it is two best friends?

What label do you put on it when some skank on PoF says to me “You might be an axe murderer” when I suggest we meet and she buys me coffee, and when I automatically respond, contrary to everything you have ever been told about the wimminz “I might be, the only definite thing is it makes your cunt drip.” and fully 50% of them snigger and carry on talking to me and eventually make a date…

What label do you put on it when at least half the wimminz on PoF, which is the same as saying at least half the wimminz on the fucking planet, lay out a list of things they abso-fucking-lutely will not do, participate in or enjoy, and if you are dumb enough to listen to them they drop you like runny shit, and if you laugh at them and their protestations that they do not and will not take it up the ass, painful or not, they will carry on talking and then book a fucking room.

What label do you put on it when you text some skank ho and tell her that if she did a better job of making herself and her holes available for your use on demand you’d use them more, and her response is to get hot and horny and basically request the pleasure of being your cumbucket later in the day, turn up, fuck, leave, no conversation or anything.

We have gone SO FUCKING FAR OFF COURSE with modern sexuality that almost none of you fuckers out there have a clue.

The wimminz have completely and utterly lost the fucking plot, now that they hold the upper hand legally and big sister state is the dyke husband and enforcer, there is no perversion that counts as being perverse any more.

Tell me something, if paedophilia and child abuse is such a fucking evil male attribute, how come there is always a handful of wimminz for the MSM to studiously ignore and for everyone else to try to paint as a victim?

Take the Vanessa George case, one man, three wimminz, so of course the wimminz, who actually physically abused the kids, were the fucking victims, while the man, who remained “virtual” throughout, is the evil manipulative and controlling fucking ringleader.

You can repeat ad infinitum with Fred & Rose West, the Moors Murders, etc etc etc I am not trying to minimise the roles that the men played in these cases, far from it, I am trying to be realistic, the wimminz were not mere pawns, mere cyphers, mere playthings of the evil men…

In every case these were wimminz who were outside the checks and controls of the evil patriarchal society, and now we have a society full of wimminz who are outside the checks and controls of the evil patriarchy…

In effect, wimminz with no paternity, what does it give us?

It gives us the most mind fuckingly kinky, filthy, perverse and sluttish cunt controlled creatures you can ever imagine.

12 months ago, at the beginning of 2011 you could go on PoF, grab a thousand wimminz a random, and get talking to them, and when you popped the question “what (sexual) things would you not do?” you always, always, always, got a three part response.

Shit / Animals / Kids

I haven’t had a three part response for 6 months.

I get “Kids”, and a halfhearted attempt to pretty up everything else by some variation of trying anything once and if I don’t like it I won’t do it again….. and frankly a lot of the time I don’t believe them when they say kids either….

Now, whether this is down to shifting values in the marketplace and wimminz feeling they need to compete, or whether it is wimminz competing with each other that is shifting values in the marketplace, who knows.

All I do know is this year is not even 2 days old and the first PoF skank of the year has booked the hotel for tomorrow night so it looks like being a good year for bad boys… lol

Footnote – I must return to 12 hour day work for a few weeks, I have enjoyed the break over the holidays, but as in the period before the holidays it means my posting rate will drop back to one or so a week until the end of January at least.

Testing

Filed under: Wimminz — wimminz @ 10:26 pm

Posting from the Android mobile

image

And editing a post after uploading.

The Death of Apprenticeship.


Now and again in my old “day job“, which is to say my TRADE, which is to say TIME SERVED APPRENTICESHIP, I used to come across situations where I ran up against the fact that I was clearly one of the very last people to get anything even remotely resembling a PROPER old fashioned apprenticeship.

I didn’t have a PROPER old fashioned apprenticeship, my father did, his parents had to pay his “employer” to allow him to go to work every week for the first 4 years, because until then he was a drain on the company, and after 4 years he was good enough to earn them money, and boy let me tell you in his day if you laughed at your master for making a trivial mistake, your master would punch you in the mouth, and unless you wanted your apprenticeship to end then and there, you took it…

My own apprenticeship was not quite that tough, I didn’t actually have to pay for permission to go to work, though I did get paid sweet fuck all, and did have to take whatever was dished out.

Turns out, in later life, I realise that I had some other apprenticeships too, even though I didn’t realise them at the time…

Turns out growing up a boy in a traditional family was one hell of an apprenticeship in how to be a father and a parent.

Turns out growing up generally was an apprenticeship for being a Man, for being a Husband, for being a breadwinner, a lover, a protector, a provider, and another cog in the machinery that is civilization.

Turns out, many of those “skills” are as in demand nowadays as buggy whip making.

Turns out, that whole process of learning shit did not so much teach me about the shit in each particular subject, but more generally it taught me HOW TO LEARN.

Turns out, I learned, late maybe, but well… AWALT, fuck yeah.

Turns out, as I look around, the REASON that AWALT, the reason that “the youth of today“, the reason that “bankers today“, the reason that “industrialists today” etc etc etc are all useless fucking cunts, is that none of them had much in the way of these various apprenticeships while growing up.

Whatever innate talent I had for engineering, plus whatever exposure I had to training, it was like the christian parable of the seed that fell on fertile soil vs the seed that fell on stony ground.

A modern kid raised in a single skank ho mummy household is the “stony ground” in the parable, the stony ground specifically being that kid just not getting all those other apprenticeships as it grows up, not getting the “Kid growing up with mummy and daddy“, not getting the “mummy home maker, daddy world shaper“, not getting the “this is your home, where you are always safe and secure from the world” etc etc

It’s like learning languages, you cannot learn latin or greek or french or spanish or german, without also learning more about english.

Just as there are no longer any engineering apprenticeships available, no matter how talented or enthusiastic you may be, there are also essentially no more father / husband / man / mother / wife / woman / citizen / etc apprenticeships.

There is the feral skank ho slut and the feral skank cock on legs, we have reduced society to the level of rutting animals, and all those who possess the ability and experience to train a new generation of apprentices have been told, in no uncertain terms, like myself, to fuck off.

And we as men have listened.

My (male) kids only possible light on the horizon for anything even approaching an apprenticeship in being a human being is to join the fucking Army, and if that isn’t as fucked up as anything can get you don’t know your history.

The thing that should absolutely literally scare every western adult citizen out there into literally shitting themselves with fear is this simple fact;

I am in my 50’s, and I am the absolute last of those who can take on apprentices, whether it be studying engineering or IT or being a parent or being a son or daughter in a secure and loving family, and when I say I am the absolute last to be honest I am borderline…. really you should be looking at someone 55 or older…

But since this is my blog I will talk about me and my perspective, I am in my early 50’s, and I am the last ones who can take on apprentices simply because nobody younger has the experience / knowledge / ability.

But, why the fuck should I?

What is in it for me?

Nothing any feminazi skank ho can offer me will tempt me.

In another 15 years, maybe only 10 years, I will be too old to take on apprentices, in any of the above fields, and then it is game over….. all those skills are lost, and will have to be re-discovered, which is anything but trivial, quite the opposite actually, and then where the fuck will society be, where single psycho skank ho mummy raising feral kids who are the very definition of “stony ground” are the fucking norm, when that is all there is….

Who will keep the lights burning? Who will keep the bytes churning? Who will keep the potable water flowing?

It won’t be my problem…  maybe those whose problem it is can throw another skank ho on the pyre to keep themselves warm.

January 1, 2012

Debt, Contract and the Golden Rule.


Fred owes 5k to Bank A for a car loan.

Fred owes 175k to Bank B for a home loan / mortgage.

Fred owes 2k to Bank C for his overdraft / plastic.

The car loan from Bank A was made at an interest rate of 9.5%, the home loan from Bank B was made at a rate of 4.25%, the overdraft/plastic from Bank C is 13.95%

Three separate loans, three separate legal contracts, three separate incredibly powerful potential opponents.

Fred, or Freda, has goldfish memory, he cannot remember ordinary vehicle purchase loans running at 33% APR… I can.

Fred, or Freda, also suffers from massive ignorance, if Bank A sells Fred’s debt to Bank C, then Fred can forget all about any arrangements or contracts he had with Bank A, they all expired, the only thing left is the debt.

Bank C can say to Fred “Pay us in full, NOW!” or they can say “Everything is staying the same, except we are charging you 25% APR interest on your outstanding balance, not the 9.5% you were paying.

Fred or Freda cannot stop Bank A selling his debt / contract to Bank C, if Fred / Freda doesn’t like it the only real option is to pay off the debt in full, and yes, there will be an extra “arrangement fee” to do that.

Fred or Freda cannot enforce the terms of a contract between Fred(a) and Bank A, upon Bank C, as they are not named in it, Bank C bought the debt from Bank A, Fred(a) wasn’t part of that deal legally either.

Once Bank C hold’s Fred(a)’s debt, then that debt is the only thing that has survived the transition from Bank A to Bank C.

Bank B now notes that Fred(a)’s financial situation has changed, eg loan payments have just gone through the roof, making the outstanding mortgage more risky, and more risky loans = higher interest rates, so Bank B increases the minimum monthly payments Fred must make.

In the “last” recession I had a friend, he had a great business, it employed 12 people, cash flow was good, order books were full for nearly 18 months, he was doing great, naturally enough he used Bank provided finance to make everything simpler and easier and smoother, but see above, cash flow was great, order books were full for the next year plus, all 12 staff were working and making him a profit, he was making all his payments on time and had cash deposits as well.

The Bank called him in, sat him down, and called in ALL his loans, which closed his business, put 12 men out of work and left his customers on the order books having to find a new contractor etc etc

The Bank manager told him, unofficially, plain as day, “Fred, we (the Bank) did not call all your loans in because you could NOT pay, but because you COULD pay… we need the money…

This, like a certain bank offering me a vehicle loan at 33% APR are not mythical fairy stories, this shit happened in my lifetime not ten miles from where I sit right now.

The fact is people today not only lack clue #1 about the true nature of debt, they also lack clue #1 about the true nature of Contract Law, and they lack clue #1 about the Golden Rule, he who has all the gold makes all the rules…

Fred(a) vs Banks A/B/C in various Courts, arguing that Fred borrowed the money for the car from Bank A, and that should be that, is an unequal battle, a non starter, it is going to do nothing except pound Fred(a) even harder into the ground.

Those of us who are not Fred(a), those of us who always understood that percentage interest on loans is an Exponential Function mathematically speaking, those of us who always understood that the Bank has more lawyers than I have hairs on my head, those of us who always understood that a loan from a bank for a car was a contract, and just as I can sell the car at some future point the Bank can sell my debt at some future point, those of us who always understood that THE LOAN HAS YET TO BE WRITTEN THAT DOES NOT CONTAIN A PROVISION ALLOWING THE BANK TO DEMAND IMMEDIATE AND FULL SETTLEMENT FORTHWITH, are those of us who relatively speaking owe sweet fuck all today, view what the rest of us are doing as some sort of cross between boarding a train that is already involved in a slo-mo train wreck, and jacking yourself up with the latest wonder drug which is nothing more than rat poison with a label stuck on it saying “Wonder drug” and obscuring the rat poison label… barely…

Indentured Servitude is an evil thing, and yet it appears that all those who have the gold have to do is offer the screaming masses a iphone and a large screen TV and a new model Ford on easy easy terms, and Fred and Freda will willingly take the first steps on the short and slippery path to Indentured Servitude.

 

December 31, 2011

Beauty is just deep skin


I have had a few messages recently from readers asking about the differences between people as they appear in photographs, and as they appear in person, particularly as this applies to PoF (Plenty of Fish) and dating generally.

First I have to declare some sympathy for the point of view that photos can and are misleading, I can show you a totally unedited photo of me taken with a megapixel digital camera, not a phone camera, and while I will be the first to agree that it is an ACCURATE representation of how I looked at that time, at that place, from that angle, I will also be the first to point out that in reality I am so much more than that still image.

However, there is a difference between a photo taken to show the tiny slice of truth that is you at a given time and place, and a photo taken to give a completely different impression.

The picture on the right is obviously “photoshopped” but the problem arises when we start to look at profile pics on places like PoF, are they “shopped” or not? Actually, the problem is a lot deeper than that….

  1. Is it out of focus? If it is then this has been done deliberately to conceal detail, details such as really awful skin, bad teeth, weird hair, or some other aspect that the person wants to conceal from you.
  2. Is it dark and low quality? If it is then this has been done deliberately etc…. you get the picture.
  3. Is it a group shot showing two or more people? If it is your future “date” is without exception the ugliest / oldest / fattest one in the picture…. yes that includes the troll who is not part of the group of three that the camera is focusing on.
  4. Is is excluding everything from the hips down? If it is then this does not mean your date is wheelchair bound and shy about it, it means 75% of her body mass is located in her ass and thighs.
  5. Is is focusing on cleavage from a viewpoint above her head? If it is then you can subtract at least 5 cup sizes from the apparent tit size, flabby B cup bags, supported by the bloated gut below, can look like ripe and full DD’s by the simple act of moving the camera to a different position…

The facts are that even a smartphone camera nowadays is capable of taking surprisingly good quality megapixel pictures, auto focus and auto exposure and auto shake elimination, yes the lens quality is poor and depth of field and colour range is poor compared to a “proper” camera, but the fact is phone camera pictures are used quite successfully to take pictures of cars for sale, bikes for sale, yachts for sale, houses for sale, and there is no “cost” of film or anything else, so the only remaining possible reason why your PoF skank ho does NOT have a decent quality, well lit, sharp focus, detailed pic is because she deliberately chose to hide the data that such a picture would reveal.

There are no ifs, buts or maybes about this, and there is no connection between this and my own previously stated dissatisfaction with the fact that one photo only shows one slice of me and as such is omitting more than it shows, because the fundamental point here is to artificially limit or control or filter what each individual photo does show, beyond the obvious technical and spiritual and semantic limitations of the medium itself.

camera shy” is one thing, “the camera hates me” is another thing, they are completely unrelated to what we are discussing here, deliberately attempting to manipulate reality in order to deceive you.

To a certain extent a sub-species that willingly spends billions every year on make up, false hair colour, false skin colour, false lip colour, false eye lashes, false you name it, is just what we would expect, we would expect them to extent the falsity and fakery into images and photos of themselves.

The problem is that men generally think they can spot “shopped” photos, while failing to realise that where wimminz and dating sites are concerned, 99.9% of all the photos are in effect faked if not “shopped” in the traditional sense.

Generally speaking if I meet a wimminz off PoF in the flesh and I am left feeling that her pictures were actually representative of her, then I am doing fucking well, there will be a handful of these a year, most of the wimminz I meet, even after my own drastic psycho skank ho filtering techniques, have things in the flesh that were fucking deliberately excluded from the pictures they uploaded to PoF, and subsequent pictures they sent to me, perhaps via smartphone MMS or perhaps by email attachment.

By deliberately fucking excluded I mean very lined faces, bad teeth, grey hair, sagging guts, large asses…. shouldn’t need to be said you ALWAYS dump these fuckers on the spot, do not even accept or sip the coffee they bought, do not fuck them even if they booked and paid for the room, do not do anything except dump them, and do it by holding up your phone with the picture they sent you next to them, turn it round so they can see it, and ask them to explain “what possible fucking connection there is between the flesh before me and the person in the picture you sent me?“… use those words…. always remember you need documentary evidence you walked away, so this is not about getting even for being lied to or anything else, except protecting yourself from a possible future false accusation, and trust me boys, wimminz who are deceptive about their physical appearance are deceptive about their mental health too…. in spades.

December 28, 2011

Nostalgia ain’t what it used to be, again…


And so, as another year draws to a close… we ask ourselves what was achieved, either by ourselves, or by the wimminz and niggerz.

I spent much of last night and today driving old roads, or rather what was left of them, some of these roads I was just a passenger the first time I rode them, 7/8 years old with my dad driving, from before the time when the by-passes and dual carriageways and motorways got this far west and south, when single lane in each direction “A” roads were the only game in town.

It wasn’t just nostalgia, it wasn’t just re-connecting to various frames of reference for re-calibration, it wasn’t just boredom, it wasn’t just awareness of the passage of time, it wasn’t just a mixture of all of the above.

It was reminding myself who I really was, in what ways I have changed over the years, and in what ways I have not changed over the years.

Comparing myself at location X in the last days of 2011, with myself at the same location X in 1999, in 1982, in 1973…. seeing how location X has changed, and how it has stayed the same, and how I have changed, and stayed the same.

You come away from it with a set of visions of possible futures, you in location X in 2020 AD, in 2030 AD, and while some of your past experiences were pretty bad or out of the blue, like being falsely accused of rape, you get the sense of the broad “road” that is your life’s journey through time and through places such as location X.

You come away with it with a set of possible future “roads” that you could do down, and just as in the real roads with real decisions about the route you take and which turnings you do and do not take, you come away with a set of preferred routes, and a set of so-so routes, and a set of “sucks” routes.

Some of those unplanned detours in my past, like the FRA and the psycho skank ho ex, yeah, they were unplanned, and there is an argument that many will make that (to continue the roads analogy) they were partially my own fault for picking up nutters as hitch hikers, and then driving like a lunatic down some bad roads in some bad areas.

It’s not an argument I buy, because real life is like real roads, they do not run in a straight line from A to B, so to get from A to B in the real world you must take roads that snake all over the place, that climb hills and descend valleys, that have positive and negative camber, roadworks, etc etc.

And like in real life there is no direct route, but a series of choices, and multiple choices at that, and once each choice is made further choices become available, and you never actually know what is around the next bend until you get there.

In real life if you choose to actually fucking live, it is the same as choosing to actually drive from A to B in the real world, you expose yourself to all sorts of vagaries and events beyond your control.

20-20 hindsight with my psycho skank ho ex is like 20-20 hindsight having an incident at some point on the roads, you don’t give up driving half way between A and B, you don’t hide at home, you don’t beat yourself shitless, not everything that happens out there is 100% your fault, and if you think it is then stay at home and close the curtains and never go out.

2011, and 2012, will be as dim and distant as 1985 is now, and if we are still alive it will be something we are nostalgic about, just as we are today about our past.

I dunno about you, but I intend to have something to be nostalgic about.

December 26, 2011

Wimminz and truth

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 3:33 pm

“I’m on my phone so wasn’t really on here!”

…was a response I got from a skanky wimminz on PoF, in response to me asking why she was on PoF, which was in response to her telling me her mum was seriously ill, which was in response to me asking why she had been quiet, because I had fucked this skank ho a couple of weeks ago.

The reader needs to understand that I knew (AWALT) she was a fucking lying skank ho, the point was it is the holidays and sometimes I find it amusing to poke the hamster and see it spin that wheel up a few times, just for shits and giggles.

Of course you get the usual “why are you so nasty to me when I need a friend” horse shit, to which I give the only possible response, “you want more friends, I can help, want a threesome with this slut I found?” which makes their head assplode, because then the wimminz needs to make a CHOICE, and so they play it safe by saying “I don’t like wimminz, I want a real man like you“…. so she has neither agreed to nor rejected the threesome…

And it is all, a big fat lie.

None of it is true, nothing any woman says or writes or types or thinks or feels is ever true.

Sometimes, just sometimes, it may contain some truth, in the same way that some foods “may contain additives“, but good luck finding any if you look… for finding the truth in a wimminz words nothing less than a forensic lab analysis will do.

So we scribble on a few more bounces of the ping-pong ball and the skank ho still hasn’t made that CHOICE about the threesome, it’s a difficult one for her because this is not something she can ask other wimminz about and obtain a herd consensus view… on the other hand, since the threesome being offered to her is not me and another guy fucking her, but me and another skank ho who happens to consider me her master, the only other wimminz involved is a wimminz who has apparently also submitted to my cock…. wham and the hamster wheel shifts up a gear…

Not only was the truth absent from this wimminz conversation from the beginning, but what passes for the truth has undergone several vast sea changes in the space of a handful of 200 character or less messages.

Since the threesome was mentioned this particular lying skank ho has completely and utterly forgotten about her seriously ill mum… strange that… and her only concern is her particular role or status within this potential threesome, and what her status will be afterwards, will it be improved?

Meanwhile, this filthy lying skank ho has two children, and yes they are at home with her, and yet it is Boxing Day, and they are with mummy and not daddy, because we all know how daddy fares in secret family court, and instead of spending quality time with her kids, she is online, lying about everything under the sun… debating whether to take part in a threesome.

I am not going to admit to any hypocrisy on my part, because the State decided that I am not allowed to be a father to my own flesh and blood, so fuck the state, fuck the institution of marriage / family, fuck society, look out for number one and do everything I can to bring the system down.

If I can kill two birds with one stone, get my rocks off AND devalue some wimminz self-worth, then even better.

Before anyone starts complaining about my role in the above, one small problem, I am telling 100% truth to the two skank ho wimminz in question, the one who has already decided to spend that time with me and who CHOSE me on the basis she wants nothing less than a sexual master / slave relationship, and the one who has fucked me three or so weeks ago, who is considering doing so again, who claims to have spent christmas in hospital watching over her mother, who claims that logging into PoF via the iPhone app is not the same as doing to via PC so she is not really here.

Take me out of the equation completely, and one of these wimminz would still be looking for a sexual master, and the other would still be logging on to PoF while her mother is dying in hospital (sic) and seeking out new cock.

Take me out of the equation completely, and both of these wimminz children, all of whom have had their fathers excluded from their lives by the actions and choices of these wimminz, would still be left unattended / to fend for themselves on Boxing Day while skank ho mummy chased cock.

Take me out of the equation completely, and substitute a man who bought into NAWALT, and both these wimminz would be behaving WORSE, and their kids would be suffering MORE and at risk MORE.

The thought I really want to leave you all with is this; at Christmas, the season of goodwill to all men, the season of family, the season of hope and love, the thing that we are always being told is at the heart of the family, the thing we are told in family courts is the heart of the family, e.g. the fucking wimminz, is spending the festive season online, searching for fresh cock to serve, and actions always speak louder than words, and in the case of wimminz where all their words are lies, you must always always always only ever judge them by their actions.

Wimminz are alien to the concept of truth… if they utter a true word it is mere circumstance and coincidence.

December 25, 2011

It’ll be lonely this cuntmass


Before I go any further a quick link to the the 1974 Mud track on YouTube – http://youtu.be/DZ8-UT8ojrk

Now, I have to confess to floating around in the seventies, on the roads, over the christmas holidays, back then it was tough buying fuel as everything was shut so maybe you’d syphon a gallon or two, and of course there were no mobiles or internet so if you wanted to stop by and say “Hey man” you had to do it in person.

Some people you called on were out, presumably doing the same thing, doing their own thing, some were in and welcomed you in for a hot drink, a piss, warm your toes and off you go again, and of course many were “in with family”, and they would come out to you rather than invite you (not that you would accept an invite in to a family do) and many were in partying family and friends.

Lots of people looked at you like you were a loser, the lonely homeless bastard and all that crap, they never knew about the Red Lion, which was effectively open 24/7 from Christmas to New Year for those in the know, pull in sleep, grab a bite to eat, drink, talk and hit the road again, nor did they know the incredible colour of purple you got as the pre-dawn sky reflected off your chrome fuel tank as you stopped for a piss break, or the sense of being alone and loving it in a post apocalyptic world as you blatted down streets and roads abandoned by humans and vehicles for the duration.

Yes, I was always on the outside looking in, and I have to say it didn’t bother me because the price of being on the inside was my freedom.

So we skip forwards a few decades to the closing days of Anno Domini 2011 and what do we find, AfOR sitting quietly and enjoying his own version of christmas, and now there are mobile phones and the internet, and guess what, PoF (Plenty of Fish) is chock full of skank ho’s who are online all christmas eve evening, and all christmas day mornings, and they are all looking for a man like AfOR to empty his sack into them, and lets face it there are a shit load more broken homes than in the seventies, and a shit load less family and extended family homes enjoying the festive season, lots of “single” people in vehicles playing santa’s sad sack of shit delivering presents to ex’s family / kids / relations etc.

Wimminz are social creatures see, nothing worse to them than not being needed or wanted at Christmas, and if the cure to that means getting their asses online with a mouse in one hand and a glass of supermarket wine in the other than that is exactly what they will do, and since the wimminz are doing it, it is no longer the role of the loser, the lonely surplus bastard and all that crap, suddenly it is something that the wimminz have to cope with and boy do they ever.

Thankfully they all have the Television on, which streams a constant river of bullshit into their minds, none of which has anything positive to say about the woman at home alone at christmas, hell, none of which even mentions the woman at home alone at christmas, so they are overcome with a desperate urge to fit in.

And then a funny thing happens.

And that funny thing reminds me of the seventies, being on the outside while the christmas parties and lights and warmth was going on inside, not because it is the same, but because it is ALMOST the same, but VERY different in important ways.

It is different because I had spent the time leading up to christmas in the seventies saying “Thanks but no” to the party invites, to the marriage proposals, to the join our gang offers, and the ones who usually looked at me with that “what a lonely loser” look in their eyes conveniently forgot that I did not want what was offered, the price was too fucking high.

I used to own and wear a tee shirt, it said ;

AS YOU ARE NOW, I ONCE WAS.
AS I AM NOW, YOU WILL NEVER BE.

I did not have it on but can distinctly recall wishing I had worn it on many occasions on many Christmases in the seventies, just to express MY feelings and responses to their looks of “what a lonely loser” at me.

Which brings me to Xmas 2011 skank ho’s online throughout the festive period, and no doubt through the New year too.

Different in important ways from me back in the seventies, and me now, because I never wanted to get into those parties, and todays skank ho’s act like EVE kicked out of the garden of Eden for fucking the serpent, and desperate desperate desperate to get back in.

So I sit here, typing this, while my mobile pops up with SMS messages from my current sluts saying “Merry Christmas Master” and hoping that I will get back to them and use and abuse their bodies for my own sexual pleasures…. it’s not the garden of Eden but it is the closest they are ever going to get in the future, and we both know it, and the punchline is they are the EXACT sort of skanks who used to look at me and think “what a lonely loser” back in the seventies……

December 24, 2011

Merry Christmas kids


It’s not a sentiment I shall be expressing to my own kids, either in person or remotely via a card or present, since the secret family courts have decided that I am such a danger to their welfare ^H^H^H^ their psycho skank ho mummies peace of mind and ability to continue to engage and employ by proxy every smelly cunt in social services and child welfare is such a priority, that I cannot be allowed to be anywhere near my own kids, I cannot be allowed to send them any presents, I cannot be allowed to send them a card.

Clearly, if in the theoretical case that there were some danger that I intended to fuck my own kids up the ass, there might have been some basis for insisting on supervised contact only, but quite how I am able to fuck them up the ass by wrapping a present and having it delivered by taxi, or by speaking to them on the phone or Skype, is anyone’s guess… until you realise it all comes back to what psycho skank ho mummy wants, and suddenly it all makes sense, the instant you forget all your stupid notions about what is best for the children, or even factoring the children anywhere in the equation.

Since “Merry Christmas” is a sentiment that I have been banned on pain of Law from expressing to my own children, I have resolved that I will not be expressing any goodwill or charm or happiness to anyone else, and contenting myself with my own peaceful contentment and happiness.

It has to be said that I never was a terribly christmassy person, for me it always was about the season of goodwill, one or two nice presents, and time spent with friends and family.

Once I left childhood myself I wasn’t even bothered about gifts, obvious exceptions being parents and children, and yeah, the psycho skank ho ex.

So it is with some mirth that I find myself being handed bags of presents from my longer term FWB skank ho’s, all of whom profess love and an ongoing desire to suck my cock, and all of whom state while handing over their presents to me that they know I have not and will not be buying them any in return.

They all also know that I will NOT be fucking spending christmas evening and day with them, I will be avoiding them and conspicuous consumption and excess like the plague.

And I have to admit, when you get to 50+ a bunch of wimminz buying your smalls and hankies and pullovers (they all know to buy natural fibres only, decent quality, no logos, and styles and colours that I like) and bath towels and suchlike isn’t actually a chore, it saves me a shopping trip and some measurable amount of cash too, which is good.

I should also mention in passing that during the recent “bug-that-does-the-rounds” one cough a lung up morning that only became a cough a lung up morning after sparking up the first smoke of the day, I have gone back to quitting smoking, which I only took up again when my psycho skank ho ex launched her FRA against me, and in addition to the saving in money annually (worthwhile) and smelling better myself (worthwhile) it means a greater oxygen supply to my brain, which is a two edged sword…. me smoking is me stoned, which is me chilled, which is me laid back.

Me not smoking is me, particularly my brain, firing on all 8 cylinders, and the gas pedal to the metal.

Not a healthy environment for wimminz or niggerz.

You know you are on to a winner when your line manager in your contract job phones you 8 times in one afternoon from his crackberry, you don’t pick up because you see who it is, and he does NOT send you either an SMS or an e-mail, or leave a voicemail, all of which he can do from his crackberry… all of which are then of course on the record… lmfao

Stay sane, and univolved in all the commercial bullshit, and keep your own company wherever possible over this “festive” period.

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