Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

December 22, 2013

Russian crashes on youtube, a bed time story.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 2:39 pm

I have to admit to being a closet fan of these, twistednederland etc

I find them educational, reinforcement of what I was always taught as a biker, you go where you look, so if you look at an out of control oncoming car, you hit it, instead of aiming for the gap behind the oncoming car, they aim at the nose of it, as does the other driver.

It just struck me, these “accidents” they come in two categories;

  1. the lone asshole driving like a cunt who manages to take out several vehicles in an epic shunt.
  2. two separate assholes in two separate vehicles pushing their luck, alone, either one of them might have gotten away with it, together on the same bit of road, shunt.

There are parallels here to the wimminz….

One of the parallels, and I have thought long and hard to make sure it is not just some sort of observational bias or misjudgement, is driving standards are dropping, in parallel with the economy tanking, as times get hard and people have to be more aggressive about money, they get more aggressive on the road.

Lots of cunts out there are lucky I am not either a/ driving an almost indestructible GTA-V style car, b/ not really keen on being on the po-lice most wanted list, and c/ not carrying a loaded hi-power in the glove box.

I’m seeing a large increase in cunts flicking an indicator on, then immediately proceeding with that maneouver, as though that alone gave them instant right of way, and the other people who have to brake hard to avoid them, well, fuckem…

I’m also seeing a large increase in cunts who think they own the whole fucking road, in the case of motorways that means all three lanes of it, so one minute they are in lane 3 doing 70 mph overtaking some cunt in a silver car doing 60 mph in lane 2 who is overtaking a string of trucks doing a governed 56-59 mph in lane 1, once the cunt in lane 3 has taken 5 minutes to overtake the traffic in lane two, they nip back in to lane 2, and PUT THEIR FUCKING FOOT DOWN, now they are doing 85, and I have to do 90/95 to overtake them, I want to overtake them, because they are driving like an inconsistent cunt and I would rather they were behind me, but, 80 is the limit, 85 is as far as you can push your luck, if you drive sensibly and smoothly and with good spacing and watch all the road around you, 90/95 you get pulled, every time, and there is a big increase in po-lice unmarked cars, and 100 and above is automatic 12 month ban minimum, so automatic unemployment line.

I know it is economically related because in the run up to Christmas, all that spending on presents and consumerism, the driving around here has been fucking APPALLING, people entering junctions they can plainly see that they cannot exit, and then just sitting their blocking traffic the other way when the lights change, people parking just where they choose….

There is a corresponding total lack of awareness of other road users, THEIR vehicles, and the probable performance envelope of THEIR vehicles… frankly when you drive like a cunt in lane 3 until 400 yards before the exit you want and dive across 2 lanes of traffic to lane 1 and force every one else to brake, well #1 I could see you coming, cunt, and I could see you were driving like a cunt, cunt, plus I’m one up in the high end model of a popular German car that is regularly factory serviced irrespective of expense, and is less than 2 years old anyway… no.. no problems braking hard here……. it is the poor bastards in the F10 curtainsider with a load of palletised shit, the poor bastard in the Scania with the bulk tipper on back, and the poor bastard in the Merc hauling a double high Asda trailer behind me, all of whom I eased in front of about a mile back, never once having had to touch my brakes, or make them touch theirs, that I feel sorry for.

That and whoever it is in lane 2 that I would have to sideswipe in order to get out of being a Scania sandwich, and then we will all be treated to some shit from you about how it is the responsibility of the driver behind and anyway you’re running late and your wife is due a baby and yadda yadda yadda.

And by the way this is not just me, I regularly touch base with wagon drivers and motorcycle dispatch riders at roadside caff’s, they are all saying the same thing.

And the parallels to the wimminz?

Well, it is all an attitude of fuck you, I’M ok mate, fuck you if you had to brake, fuck you if you had to swerve, fuck you if you had to make someone else brake, etc etc, because it is all just a videogame anyway, until it isn’t, and then it is all someone else’s fault… 10 seconds ago you thought I was a cunt and you were more than happy to make rude gestures at me and shout and laugh and call me a cunt, now you don’t want to talk to me or anyone else except via your insurance company or lawyer, because suddenly it didn’t go all according to plan, and you don’t plan on accepting any of the consequences, consequences are for other assholes, right…

Until real world physics intervenes.

Speaking personally I can’t wait for driverless google cars and Johnnycab, I’m prepared to give up ever driving a car again, in exchange for no other fucker being allowed to, assuming I can still travel wherever and whenever I want.

Because I am aware, as are the other professional drivers that I talk to at caff’s, that despite my awareness of things, when you put me on a road where everyone else is driving more aggressively, I start to drive more aggressively, and as someone who has at one time ridden or driven everything, and who does a lot of driving, I can drive so aggressively that I can easily turn the tables on you, and it goes within a couple of miles from you thinking you are the fastest thing on the road who owns the fucking road and me thinking you are a mental cunt, to me leaving you 400 yard behind and you and every other fucker thinking I am the mental cunt, and frankly I am, I thoroughly deserve to be banned for life when I get that head on.

So then I pull over for a coffee and a smoke and chill, and drive the fucking speed limit, no matter what.

That by the way has always been my advice to novice bikers.

  1. Drive the speed limit
  2. Drive as fast as you can see, subject to #1
  3. Leave plenty of space, to decrease the gap between #1 and #2
  4. Never overtake if there are any junctions or turn offs of ANY kind between where you are and where you will be when the overtaking maneouver is complete
  5. Never overtake unless you can see every bit of road between where you are and where you will be when the overtaking maneouver is complete
  6. Always at all times make sure other drivers are aware that you are there.
  7. You go where you look…. so look where you want to go, not where you do not want to go. GLANCE at where you do not want to go.

So, there are again obvious parallels, wimminz driving the roads of relationshits in their indestructible GTA cars, well, it’s made me drive those roads like a cunt too, too bad bitches, you wonder why you can’t get a stable relationshit when you are a single mom or in your 40’s, it’s because all the once good drivers are emulating Mad Max, same as me, you taught us this.

Which after a roundabout way brings us to where we came in, because I had some of this shit on when a wimminz knocked on my door, now, this is an ex casual fuck of mine that is now in a relationshit, but she still loves me and wants me as a friend end, yeah yeah, she wants my cock, and I’m not giving her any option except beg for it, I am not going to help her act out some scenario where she can claim it just haaaapened, she didn’t plan it or anything, so we chat for a bit and the subject comes up of STD’s, sexually transmitted diseases… she knows I only fuck bareback.

I believe, like the cunts on the road who thought they were hot shit and the fastest thing there, that I shocked her… lrfh.

“What about them?” I said.

Well, she says, doesn’t it worry you… Nope, I said, why should it… well, she says, you may catch something… and? is my response…

Does

Not

Compute

Hamster wheel spins but gains no traction

I told her straight, I’m in my fifties, not my teens or twenties, and I have male sexual organs, not female, and I am as far as I know done with having kids, not in any event ever able to get pregnant myself.

Now, you tell me skanky, why should I actually give a fuck if I catch an STD, assuming of course I am actually even aware I have caught something, please list the STD’s that a man in his 50’s can catch that are going to affect him seriously in any way.

Just as I can pull up good maps and show you a 75 mile long stretch of A road, and tell you EXACTLY where every single one of the good passing places are, so in real life if I am approaching one of these places and want to pass you the plans start being laid 1 mile beforehand, so when we get TO the passing place and you realise it is one, I already dropped a gear or two 400 yards back in the gap I allowed to build to give me space and vision, and planted the pedal to the metal, it’s the same with fucking and STD’s, I’m not saying all the risks are avoided or that I am the best driver on the planet, but you can do things in such a way that they are a lot easier to do, or in such a way they are a lot harder to do, and catching a dose is the same, and the downside is the same too… that accelerating and vision and overtaking space is also a fuck it brake and abort space, if the gap ain’t there to be exploited you can’t take it.

If the gap is oncoming traffic you NEED at least a couple of seconds to judge their speed, if they are doing 50 you can make it, if they are doing 80 you won’t…

And ultimately it is giving yourself that wriggle room and observation and thinking room and braking and acceleration space that allows me to pass the cunt who thought he was hot shit, not because I am a better driver of have a faster car, neither are true… I just plan ahead enough to give my self room to exploit a potential opportunity.

Which also makes me a very hard person to overtake.

You absolutely do have to be a better driver with a faster car to do it, and if I see you back there, I’ll let you go past.

The wimminz still isn’t getting it, so I explain it, in simple terms.

First off, getting an STD is very unlikely to affect me much, I’m in my fifties, I’m  man (huuge one right there) I have no plans to have kids, I’m generally very healthy anyway, in risk assessment terms if there are things in my life to watch out for it is shit like smoking and driving.

She however is female, so more likely to get an STD if she fuck a guy with an STD , because the transmission path is easier male to female than female to male, may suck, but that’s life.

Also being female / womb / pregnancy etc, loads more consequences she should be aware of there.

Also she is low 30’s, she got 20 more years of potential consequences or infection ramp up time than me.

So it’s a bit like the cunts who annoy me who I overtake, it’s not what I do, it’s how I do it… if I was in their shoes, I would not be doing things THE WAY THEY ARE DOING IT.

She is still having difficulty with this, so I make it very very clear to her, if STD’s are a concern, do not fuck around, 1 new cock every five years is pushing your luck, and not just any cock, it better be a cock that also does not fuck around, and especially does not fuck around on you.

She didn’t like this answer, apparently, like the relative immunity of man like me to the effects of an STD, is “unfair”

Over a year ago there was this wimminz, also in her 30’s, also a single mom, and she had a chance with me, we were together for a while, not living together but fucking, and knowing the small village she came from and a bunch of other factors, I tended to actually give some weight to her claim that I was the 3rd cock she had ever had, it’s not like I had anything riding on whether this number was true or not, but she did.

So it worked for a few months and then it fell apart, she did one of those things wimminz do, tried to play hot and cold with me, don’t ask me why, us guys never know, or care…

So I bumped into her a couple of weeks back quite by accident, and we grab a coffee and chat, and she shows me her whatsapp status, no, I hadn’t seen it or stalked her or anything, but it is about the one who got away… me…

well, number one I did not “get” away, you stopped treating me like something special, so fuck it.

and, number two, je ne regret rien but she regretted this, and maybe we could hang out and shit.

So tell me girl, how many men you been with in the past year and a bit since I seen you last… and her eyes go down to the coffee cup, and I didn’t give her a chance to answer, and said well, there you go, whatever you had to offer me back when I was number 3 is gone innit.

I’ll fuck you, but that’s it. And if I fuck you, I am gonna fuck you hard and dirty and at my convenience not yours. Haven’t heard from her since.

Heads in the fucking sand.

One of the wisest men I ever knew taught me hydraulics, he knew his shit because he was one of the small team who was at Vospers and developed the stabilisers for battleship guns in WW2, and when I asked him for the best bit of advice he could give me it had fuck all to do with hydraulics.

He said “You can say anything you like to your Boss, as long as you are not right, that is the one sin they will never forgive.”

Well, old Peter was right about that, but he was only half right, it’s not just bosses who won’t ever forgive it, wimminz won’t either, and sat here off the top of my head I cannot think of a single instance of a potential relationshit or ongoing relationshit with a wimminz, from the casual to the live together forever serious, that did not end stone cold when I opened my mouth and said to the wimminz in question something that was right…. and of course not what she wanted to hear.

To many people, it is my one huge failing when it comes to relationshits, and employment, sooner or later I go fuck it and open my mouth…. and I’m right.

Game over man…

I could sit here and list all the shit that is wrong with me, or wrong with my life, where “wrong” is actually just “what if”, what if back when given X choice I went down path A instead of path B.

Maybe I should not be sat here in my fifties in my rented accommodations with en suite workshop, living alone, with a whole list of aspirational things and comforts that I don’t have.

On the other hand, I am debt free, I do make enough at a piss easy job that I enjoy to pay all my bills, even if I don’t live a life of a spendfree I liked it so I bought it playboy, the gaff is ever so humble and plain and outdated, but it’s mine, and I’m actually quite happy to stay here, provided no fucker puts the rent up.

And I say all this and tell these stories for a reason, and the reason is not because I have all the fucking answers, I don’t, one of the popular sayings back when I was in prison was “If you are so fucking smart, what are you doing in here?”

And this probably sums me up better than anything else, if I look back at the life I have lived, I was time and again a fool who rushed in where angels would fear to treat, and every single time I survived the experience, and everyone says I am a lucky lucky bastard, and I am, for example surviving the psycho skank ho’s FRA, I was lucky, but, I have to be honest, I have always made a lot of that luck.

Whether it is driving like a cunt, but only after I have built myself some wriggle room to allow for the other asshole and the unforeseen, or fucking psycho skank ho’s, or you get the picture.

It’s always been a double edged sword, yes, it gets me out of shit relatively unscathed, but it also gets me into shit other guys would run a mile from.

And finally the point of this bed time story.

The wimminz who popped in for a coffee while I happened to be watching Russian dash cam carnage, and who asked about STD’s.

The wimminz who was head in the sand unwilling to hear what I had to say, which was IF you are genuinely worried about STD’s, then you don’t just need to change your fucking life, but who you associate with.

The wimminz who was so far head in the sand that I could not even raise the meta-message, about the wimminz from 18 months ago, who potentially had something I might have wanted when I was cock #3, but not after I was BOTH cock #? AND put on the back burner for some un-fucking known reason.

And the meta-meta-message, Jesus fucking loves me, OK, he doesn’t, but you really do make your own luck, both good and bad, and your future is limited by your past, and nobody really wakes up to that shit in the first half century, so hope to god you had enough fun along the way that that pill isn’t too tough to swallow, and hope to god in having that fun it didn’t limit your future too much.

The meta-meta-message, play fair, be honourable, never lie (sure, keep it zipped by all means, nobody is forcing you to give your opinion) and always remember that actions have consequences, 20/20 hindsight is a bitch, YOU ARE HERE, that is nobody else’s fault, and its the only place you can start from today.

Within those limits, and make no mistake, they are limits, and pretty restrictive ones, 2014 can be what you make it…. not because of what shit happens, but because of how you choose to react to it.

Think of it as knowing a mile ahead on every road where the overtaking places are, and the accident black-spots, and being able to position yourself on the road with the right gap in the right gear and the right vision, not because you know what is coming, but because you don’t…..

 

December 21, 2013

Season’s bleatings

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 1:02 am

Raises a beer and a smoke, this one’s for you, all you single men and deadbeat dad‘s out there, seeing another Christmas and new year in as a sad / lonely / desperate / creepy fuck, celebrate it guys, the peace, the solitude, the tranquillity, and the complete and utter disconnect from the consumer nightmare, a few days when you can close the curtains, lock the door, put the phone in airport mode, pull up the drawbridge, and spend six hours in the bath smoking cigars and drinking beer with some mellow sounds just audible in the background…. or whatever the fuck else floats your boat, as long as none of it involves you feeling crap for being alone… that’s bass ackwards…

Right

Now that shit is outta da way….

Enough time has passed I can now tell you a story.

So, I’m with this skank ho single mom, for the purposes of kinky fucking sex, it’s an ongoing thang, pretty regular, she’s looking for a new wallet, I’m enjoying the ride…lol

So one day her 4 year old daughter walks into the bedroom from the bathroom, all wet from the bath, dragging a towel for momsie to dry her, ten seconds later she (the kid, not momsie) is lying on her back on the bed holding her ankles legs apart tiny tots cunt and asshole on display for all to see.

Mommy looks at me, I look at her, grin, and say sure as hell can see she is her mother’s daughter.

I place a bet with myself and start the clock ticking.

Actually I lose it, because it takes until several hours later that night when skank ho single mommy raises the subject, the inevitable subject, her daughter’s cunt, and is it competition… yeah, they don’t say it that way, but that is what they mean.

The answer they all expect you to give is “No, I would never do such a thing, it is wrong and evil and disgusting and vile and I was never a lostprophets fan…”

I told her the truth, yes, I could clearly see, and see into her cunt, yes, it is clearly recognisable as a cunt, albeit a small one, and yes to a bunch of other shit too… would I fuck it? No.

Not because it is wrong and evil and immoral and I would get caught or any of the reasons people trot out, all of which are frankly quite mutable anyway.

But because of the one thing that is immutable, her little cunt, despite being a cunt, produced all the sexual reaction in me that staring at a cow’s ass would.

Speaking personally, I would be troubled by people who said things like ooooh nooo it’s wrong and evil and yadda yadda, as their first response, and not… meh, nope, no boner, not even a twitch, sorry, it’s unfuckable.

Short of a severe blow to the head, there isn’t much you can do to change such things, it really is on a par with me deciding that after decades of pounding wimminz in all three holes, you know what, I have the cock throbbing craving to find some trucker and suck his cock and start demanding everyone calls me Tracy from now on.

It *should* be the first reaction everyone has, it usually is when a guy dares to walk within 5 miles of a kiddies playground, only to be accosted by some skank… ARE YOU A PAEDO……  guy simply cannot comprehend or compute, WTF, *because* it is alien.

But, we live in a society where the propaganda and brainwashing says that ain’t good enough, all fucking paedos say that, so guys start denying and protesting too much, which is what the feminazis and niggerz wanted, because it sounds as fucking insincere as it is.sheepshagger

Skanky single mom ho GOT it, in fucking one, she said to me that that kid would never be seen by me as a sexual object, even if we all lived as a family, because my first impressions of her were as a non sexual object, a 4 year old…. if she had been 15 when I first saw her… well, whole ‘nother story, as indeed it was.. lrfh

This is the point, the skanky cunts DO get this shit, they really do, they just make out they don’t, because it is a fucking loaded 44 magnum when it comes to putting a guy on edge, especially a guy bred and raised in a society as fucked up and hypocritical as ours, nothing quite like pretending you aren’t sure if a kid is safe with a guy to put that guy on the back foot.

NOTE THIS FUCKING WELL>

It is just like all that pretence that her ex is a violent psycho bastard who scares her.

Bitch, if you’ve taken a fucking beating in your own home, when you walk into your own home (in my company) your fucking eyes will be everywhere, seeing if doors or window latches were disturbed while you were out, you scan quickly to see if shit was moved, and then, once you are sure that the guy who gave you a fucking beating ain’t already in the fucking house with you, then you lock the fucking door you just walked through.

You will be anal about your kids keeping the door and windows locked too.

You will NOT often forget to lock the fucker when you go out, and leave it unlocked when you are in.

I did time in prison, OK, my keys live inside the door, so I can always see them, and so no keys can be put in the outside the door, plus, my door has a door handle on the inside (plus I have light switches) plus seeing as it is MY fucking door I fucking NEVER answer it unless I am expecting you.

You dig what I am saying here.

 

December 14, 2013

Three coins in the fountain.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 1:06 pm

So, there was a funeral in the morning, a small crew of attendees wearing rented Elvis gear, a surreal moment at the service when at the warm up, the last track played was an Elvis track, just not like the other Elvis tracks, this was Elvis Costello, I don’t wanna go to chelsea.

Quite funny really, especially as Jim’s skank ho ex was called Elsie.

Last night was bizarre too, it felt more like being in a first person RPG than walking down actual streets, I guess satire and marketing jumped the shark when lots of stuff in real life is more unreal than lots of stuff in video life.

So breakfast (coffee and smokes) this morning is a bunch of guys dressed like Elvis, all of whom work in IT, all of whom have at some point failed the modern security clearances to work on certain government / education / police contracts, not because they were security risks, but because they weren’t nice blank sheets of paper and had actually done some bad things at some point in their lives, or been near those who had, or been accused of it by “people” like Elsie, discussing the debacle of the guy who was security vetted so well nobody noticed either his criminal record or the FACT HE COULD NOT EVEN FUCKING SIGN before standing him literally in arm’s reach of Obama for Mandela‘s funeral.

Way to go NSA / CIA / FDA / WTF

The whole morning, and the service itself, went like that, if anyone else had been invited I am positive they would have said it was totally disrespectful, but the fact is if Jim had been there he would have been participating in every single one of those conversations, and the only moment of doubt I suffered was last night when one of the other guys tried to start a bar tab in Jim’s name, “he’ll be along in a minute…” LRFH

Anyway for one reason or another one of the lads asked about my sex life, oho yet another one kicked to the kerb is it, and they picked up on something I hadn’t, there has been a series of these the last couple of years, and, from one perspective, you could say I fucked them all up.

From that perspective, to not fuck them up, or at least to not fuck them up at that time and place, all I had to do was keep my fucking mouth shut, but when you don’t do that, when you adopt a louder and more forceful tone and do a whole WTF, that is outrageous, that you should do that, and that you should expect me to just buy it…  they all got fucked up.

I hadn’t actually made the connection, it was always after I called them on their shit, my problem apparently is I do so in such a way, with logic and reason, that it doesn’t give a way out for creatures who simply will not ever admit to fucking up, much less atoning for their actions or personally bearing the consequences of them.

There then followed a bunch of discussion about whether I was really a callous bastard who seized upon such moments to GTFO while the going was still good and you’d had all the best that that particular wimminz could offer, or whether I was really an autistic bastard who didn’t even know what he was doing… at the time…

Y’all aren’t allowed to smoke inside in the UK no more, so it was after this I’m outside for a smoke, and there is this young chick there, seen her hear us inside so she doesn’t have to ask what’s with the elvis shit or funeral talk etc, “to Jim, cheers” etc she has overheard it all.

Now, at any other time I’d have fucked the ass off her, youth has a certain beauty all its own, but my mind isn’t really on that as it isn’t possible, so with no warning at all she walks over to me and gives me a big kiss on the cheek and a hug and says what we are doing is so sweet… takes a final drag on her smoke, throws it to the ground and starts to walks away.

I say hey girl, what gives, and there she is, all of 19 or so, and gives me the saddest smile, and she says if a woman dies can you imagine a bunch of her friends desssing up as Madonna just because she was a huge fan, and having a night out to celebrate her? and she walks away into the night and the sodium light… I finished my smoke, went back in, and forgot all about it, then there is teh service and blah de blah and we go our separate ways, and I’m sitting in the train writing this on the tablet, because I can’t get what that girl said out of my head.

Other times, other funerals, other wimminz, all I can remember is them wanting to play dress up, and I don’t mean Tina Turner, I mean LBD and heels and make up and hair do, and that little girl is right, I just can’t imagine the fuckers doing what we did, all I can see is vicars and tarts, and hen nights, and a big gap, and other dead wimminz, like my grandmother, who was a battleaxe bitch, but who remained a single widow for 30 years and only ever wore black as a widow, and that shit has gone forever.

“No man is an island”

maybe, no wimminz is ever anything else but.

 

 

December 9, 2013

20% of Broken Roads

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 12:33 am

I’m currently about 20% through Broken Roads (hat tip to DMJ) and I’m minded to write something.

Let me say this first of all.

Any ass-hole can find fault, being a critic is easy, lot easier than being a writer, and writers often of necessity have to employ things like artistic licence as a vehicle, if they strive for pin point accuracy it can kill the story stone dead before they start.

Star wars and just about everything else fucking piss me off because you have spacecraft performing AERODYNAMIC maneouvers in a vacuum, that shit is unforgivable, the writers need to be taken out back and fucked and dried.

Broken Roads you can tell, even 20% in, that the writer has fired a weapon, and been around what the yanks call a wrench / mechanic.

So I’m wondering, is it mere artistic licence and a vehicle for the story, or is it exactly what Rexx is talking about, that gives rise to the things I think when I read it, please bear in mind the following….

My father before me was an Engineer, like me, but a hundred times better than me, his era, he had a steam and electric ticket, otto diesel was still around, but dad’s first truck was a steam truck, made by Dennis.

95% of what I learned, I learned from my dad, so I learned how things were when HE was a boy apprentice, and later how the did things during the war, and in the jungles of the far east shortly thereafter….

Now, you can make acetylene easy enough, that’s just chemistry, but compressing and getting it into a bottle (not an empty one, but a bottle filled with a porous solid like a sponge) at high pressure is a completely new ball game, y’all try feeding a three stage diving compressor with acetylene and not air sometime, I’ll be the guy watching from 2,000 yards away through the fucking telescope…. but post apocalyptic Rexx grabbing a gas axe? (oxy acetylene torch) 40+ years after the breakdown…

The protagonist riding around on a motorcycle? Grease in a sealed tub might last 40 years, lube oil won’t, and that shit is harder to make than gasoline, many a time my old man told me the two great advances since he was a boy were pneumatic tyre technology and lube technology, the metals and engineering they had, but those two, no way.

Something no fucker talks about now, Brake Mean Effective Pressure, back in dad’s day they’d run a tuned side-valve engine at maybe 6:1 compression ratio, often 2/3rd of that, they had 100 octane gas and sub thou engineering and great steels, but no lube good enough.. if they had lube good enough, no way to get that power down as the tyres weren’t good enough.. this shit is hard limit stuff.

Gasifiers and steam power and sidevalve shit, the main protagonist might have been able to get a Model J Harley running, it was appropriate tech, the US Army used them to try and chase down Pancho Villa in real life, but what sounds like a 4 cyl jap bike with 12mm spark plugs?

Like I said, any asshole can be a critic, maybe DMJ knew all this but needed to write it his way to make the story work, and tell the story he wanted to tell, and not the story of the incredible technical challenges the real protagonists would face 40 years after the apocalypse.

So, this isn’t an appraisal of DMJ as an author, or Broken Roads as a book, rather it is about something that reading the book made me think, something that is in-line with what I have read so far.

That is that if you found yourself in that world, in reality, you would find that the reality as described in the book is a fucking fairy tale land of plenty and abundance and ease, from a purely engineering / technical POV.

I have seen with my own eyes a hand made arc welder, made in the 1990’s in africa, I have a picture somewhere, you can smelt copper and hammer it flat, but insulating it…. if you have high quality industrial weaving kit and cotton you can weave an insulator, I can remember this as a child, if you don’t, as these african’s didn’t, you hammered thin wall copper pipe flat, used hammered iron bed frame and leaf spring for the cores, and wrapped the hammered copper around the cores, using fucking paper from magazines for an insulator, an old set of jump leads worked both as the high current side and as the torch, and THEY STILL NEEDED INDUSTRIAL MADE AND COATED WELDING RODS.

This shit is orders of magnitude harder to do than anyone realises, this sounds easy, but it depends on that, and that depends on the other, and the other depends on something else, and you need all that shit in an unbroken line before you can do this…

I used to run a single cylinder static lister diesel generator, it would run on diesel, or lube oil, or ATF, and this 1.4 litre displacement single cylinder engine would produce a whopping 6 bhp @ 650 rpm, each of the twin external flywheels weighed around 300 lbs….. I personally wouldn’t even consider anything more technologically advanced or high tech or with a greater power to weight ratio for a Broken Roads scenario, we are literally talking steam power.

Similarly, 40 years after the apocalypse, my money is on the only kind of rifle the main protagonist would be able to run would be a muzzle loading flintlock, flint, black powder and lead you can do, and again, with low barrel pressures you can cast or wrap a barrel, there is a huge correlation between being able to make an engine barrel that will handle 200 psi peak pressures and a gun barrel that will do the same, to scale…. hell, the logo of BSA motorcycles until they folded was crossed rifles, Birmingham Small Arms…

But making brass, smokeless powder, and especially percussion caps… fucking hard stuff to do… so is making a rifled barrel

First you need a lathe….

But you couldn’t make that shit unless you have access to a fucking good blacksmith, and a metalsmith, and a gear cutter, all separate trades and skills, and they in turn depend on miners and smelters, brickies to make the kiln, it goes on and on, maybe when your community gets to 50,000 inhabitants you’ll have enough supporting trades and such to start making crude rifle barrels and steam engines and early internal combustion engines, Harley J stuff, assuming you have the fucking plans, and the measuring tools, and so on.

In a sense, though I am only 20% of the way into Broken Roads, I sense that this is at least one thread of the narrative that DMJ is telling a story about, our ignorance of our dependence on technology.

If he is, I find myself wondering, in 1978 the BBC did an excellent 10 part documentary series, narrated by James Burke, it was called Connections, and delved into this very subject, back in the days before TV was dumbed down into x-fuckedher I’m a celebutard.

Maybe you should all watch it.

Maybe you should download it, while you still can, in a post apocalyptic world a hand cranked charger would power a laptop and allow you to view it, and marvel at the moving pictures.

Here is episode 1

December 7, 2013

The Necromoronicon

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 2:43 pm

As Peter Cook said, jokingly, wtf made anyone think whales were intelligent, when was the last time a whale produced a top 10 song.

It got me thinking, or what passes for thinking, about that which must never be mentioned by name… *s*n*t… and in particular alt.binaries.e-books

So, just for shits and giggles, I set newsleecher to download everything from the “dailies” for the last few days, which queued up a total of just over 2,000 e-books.

Once downloaded and imported into Calibre, it was time to clean up the dupes, a few of these were mirror dupes, mainly they were the same book in different formats, anyway, when done, 1,331 unique titles left.

Now go through and select every title with a wimminz author, calibre pops up the book cover so even if the title doesn’t give the content away the cover does, click remove from library.

Down to 358 books

Go through them and see from the cover which ones are clearly written by wimminz using androgynous nom’s de plume, or men’s names, delete

161 books left

delete all the warhammer and star trek crap

122 books left

Nota Bene, these are just BROAD filters, exclusion filters, excluding only wimminz authors, and 100% of their output in fantasy sex shit, utterly opposite from an inclusion filter, such as sci-fi only, ignore everything else.

In this 122 books there is a fairly broad range, tom clancy, feynmann, a little sci fi, a couple of westerns, a couple of crime/detective ones.

But the point is from my random sample of some 2,200+ titles, we are down to 122, which represents about one half of one per cent.

eg 99.5% is chick lit crap.

Now, I’m a reader, not a writer, but let’s take DMJ’s book.

I have not read his book. No particular reason, it falls into the cluster of things I do read, so why haven’t, why, so far, has Broken Roads been that one thing NO retailer can track, the sale that was not made, the lost sale? At least as far as me as a unique potential customer goes.

Number one is I dislike the price disparity, 11 bucks for a hardcopy paperback that is printed and bound and packed and shipped and lands at my door, but 7 bucks for an electronic version that DMJ could have produced himself with Calibre, and yes I understand the vast marketing reach of amazon and resellers margins, but really? 7 fucking bucks for something that has a unit cost of maybe 0.5 cents to process and deliver electronically?

Is DMJ getting the lion’s share of this 7 bucks? I doubt it.

Is the 7/11 bucks ebook/hardcopy price break indicative, eg it costs 0.5 cents to produce and distribute an ebook, and 4 bucks to produce and distribute a paperback? I doubt it.

Number two, again, speaking personally, I got no use for poxy proprietary file formats, nowt wrong with epub, Amazon can kiss my ass with their kindle lock-in, I will either read a ebook with Calibre on my main PC or Moon reader on my Samsung Note 10.1.

Number three, I have nothing against paying for shit that I consume, you can tell from the above that I know how to get pirate copies of anything I want, and yet my PC and Android devices are littered with software and apps and data that I have paid for.

The stuff I have NOT paid for is simply because either;

  1. the pirated shit simply worked better than the paid for shit
  2. the shit itself is worth max maybe 1% of what the seller is demanding
  3. I already paid for that shit five times over (eg music) and to this day you don’t offer that shit to me in a format I want to use
  4. I just wanted to look and play, not keep and use, but you don’t offer a working demo
  5. while I am happy to pay for the shit itself, your insistence that you will bundle it with a bunch of shit I do not want and not give me any option about installing it without that other shit made it a no sale
  6. I’m not prepared to buy your other proprietary device or service (kindle / xbox / ps4) just so I can use this shit.

But I cannot enter into any form of negotiations with you that I could if I was dealing with you face to face over a shop counter, not because electronic trading forbids such things, but because you simply are not interested in selling anything to anyone who does not want it your way, up the ass.

Number four, market dilution, see the above where >99.5% of literary output is wimminz writing shit that frankly, if I tore the pages out and wiped my ass with them, I’d have more shit on my ass than when I started… the ONLY way I know of DMJ’s book is because *******I******* fucking found him and it in my browsing and clicking, so tell me, why should I give one red fucking cent to your marketing machine Amazon? Why should DMJ, for such a putative sale?

In fact, it is the likes of Amazon and the other publishers who diluted the fucking market in the first fucking place…. I should be able to walk into a high street bookshop and ask where the science fiction section is, and when I get there I should be able to find the hard science fiction section…. good luck with that.

If I have to trip over piles of 50 shades on the way in the shop I am not fucking going in.

I don’t mind paying DMJ to read his shit, to me it is the same as buying some beers for the guy jamming down the pub or telling a story over a fire.

I don’t see why I should have to pay Amazon for something they have not done, marketing, as far as my individual potential purchase is concerned.

That is like being in the pub anyway because you were wandering down the street and fancied a pint and spotted a likely looking watering hole, so you walk in and there is this guy jamming with a guitar, and you go up to the barman to get a drink and maybe listen to the guitar guy to see if he is any good, and some cunt in a bow tie walks up and gets in your face and demands a 5 buck entry fee before I can hear any notes guitar guy plays, hey, bow tie cunt says, I’m his fucking agent, I promote his act, fucking pay me.

end of numbers

This ain’t about DMJ or his book, this is about media, distribution, business models, etc etc etc.

When the unit cost of publishing a single book from a single author is measured in cents, or fractions of a cent, and you seek to make money by making trillions of such micro transactions, that what fucks shit up.

It was EXACTLY the same in the early days of the internet, it used to take money and effort to get online, and sure you didn’t like everything you found, but you didn’t find crap because nobody had the resources to upload crap… even when it started to take off as enough of a mainstream thing that there was now a world wide web and a web browser, and therefore potential viewers, you spent a ***LOT*** of fucking time ensuring that NO page on the website was over 50 kilobytes, and the front page better be less than 25 kilobytes, and this was for EVERYTHING, including graphics, check everything for load times over a 9.6 or 11k modem connection, and load processes, ALL the text better load first, while the gfx downloaded line by line as the images appeared like a slowly lowered blind.

The came Assholes On Line and (in the UK) Freeserve, no more cost per minute for the modem connection, and just like the chick lit, it turned to crap, world + dog had websites, contents of my desk drawer in puke technicolor and BLINK and all 230 web safe colours.

It just devalued and buried everything else.

==========================================

we live in a world where you decide to buy a coffee, si you go to starbucks / costa / wtf and who cares it all tastes like shit and the fucking cardboard cup is literally a greater cost to the shop than the coffee / milk / electric to make it.

you know how much the cost is of the chicken in a mcfuckits? 6p per portion, that’s about 10c american, eg it is the cheapest ingredient

you know what the so-called managers in high street retail food chain shops (I mean restaurants here, not walmart) spend most of their time doing? juggling staff and rotas to achieve the industry target of making wages never exceed 40% of the TOTAL costs of that particular outlet.

all of the above are factual by the way, so, back to tracking the sale that was not made for DMJ’s book, in my particular individual case, I’ll buy that fucker when TRUE values are represented, eg Amazon treats it like a loss leader, and go “Hey DMJ, we just sold another copy of your book to some guy called AfOR, here is the 5 bucks he gave us, and here is 6 bucks from us, making a total of 11 bucks for you.”

Maybe then I won’t have to download 1,000 books to find 50 that I might possibly read, it’ll be like publishing used to be, you know, in the bad old days when you walked into a bookshop and found it full of Petersen how to books and the latest Larry Niven and Clarke and Dictionaries and Thesaurus and maybe even a Gazetteer or two.

Music is already there, so is video, only video I watch now is fly on the wall shit.

Turn your speakers up. And the sub-bass… To 11

Related articles

November 21, 2013

It goes deeper than that.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 2:41 pm

Someone sent me a link a few days back, some blurb on reddit about some skank who was happily in a relationshit with this guy, until one day she suggests they have an “open relationshit” so she can fuck other guys, this guy says fine, packs his shit, leaves, and blocks her in every way possible, she spends days cwyyying and trying to get him back.

Thing is, the thing *none* of the commenter’s got, though they did all correctly explain what prolly motivated the guy to bail, not that she was capable of listening and understanding, the thing is, they bought into her version of events where she just raised the subject.

Raising a subject requires forward planning, I have yet to meet a wimminz actually capable of this, but met many who know how to mimic it to fool men, but question them on the details of this alleged forward planning, and it all vanishes into a puff of thin air and an angry expression.

“We have been together 5 years now, so how about we have an open relationshit for a bit and start fucking other people?”

This, on paper, and as expressed verbally, makes it sound like forward planning… this is what she claims she said.

Since, as *I* know, wimminz are incapable of forward planning, what she was really saying was….

“We have been together 5 years now, and I am getting some extra cock, and I want your approval for this to continue.”

*UTTERLY* different, and, I suspect, the other side of the story, that we haven’t heard, from the guy in question, will include an awareness of this second, true, version.

Without exception in the swinging scene, couples into cuckolding include a wimminz who describes herself as a feminist and who quite often also described her guy as a feminist also.

Now I know that on the face of it there appears to be little in common between my assertion that wimminz are incapable of forward planning, and my observation that most wimminz in cuck couples identify themselves as feminazis, but bear with me.

Forward planning requires some sort of grip on reality, children say “I will invent something and make ten million” or when asked about lack oxygen on Mars they will “invent something to make oxygen from the martian atmosphere so men can breathe it”, which is all very well, and sometimes these things are, technically, possible on a lab scale, but to bring them up to world scale you need (to make a practical electric car) a battery no bigger than two cubic feet that will hold the energy equivalent to 75 kWh and which can be made at a rate of several thousand per day and which can be made for less than 100 bucks a pop, suddenly it doesn’t work.

Kids, though lack of knowledge and experience, lack the necessary grip on reality.

That’s why kids will invent “something”, where “something” is nothing more than a required mental bridge to get from point A to point B… it doesn’t need to have any substance or detail of its own, it is a “something”… good enough.

I see the same thing with wimminz, oh, I’m going to open a cup cake shop, I’m just off to the bank to borrow 25k to start my new “business”… so I ask questions.. such as OK the rent and light and heat and wages and shit is 500.00 a week, cup cakes won’t sell for more than 0.75 each, of which 0.25 is ingredients, so 500 / 0.50 = 1,000 which is the number of cup cakes you need to sell, every week, abso-fucking-lute minimum, just to break even, much less make a profit…. then dig into how many you can actually make in an hour on the premises with the kit you have, and how many you can actually sell, as in how long it actually takes to sell one cake, pick, wrap, ring up on till, make change, plus not all hours of opening are equal, workers morning tea break you’ll sell more per hour than the last hour before you close…

So, you have to sell 52,000 cup cakes a year to break even, 75, 000 a year to pay off your start up loan in 3 years, and 100,000 a year or 2,000 a week to pay yourself a wage good enough to give you the lifestyle you aspire to.

2,000 a week is 400 a day, which is (if you are open 8 hours) 50 an hour, which is one every 72 seconds, and it takes 120 seconds to pick, wrap, ring up and make change…. so basically your dream is unattainable even under ideal theoretical circumstances.

At which point **I** become the enemy.

I haven’t done anything, except invoke reality.

It is this inability to grasp reality that lies behind wimminz inability to do any genuine form of forward planning, and this same inability to grasp reality that lies behind wimminz in cuck relationshits claiming everything in the garden is both happy and healthy and perfectly normal and sustainable, thank you very much.

When, instead of approaching things as they are marketed, you take the “open other end” approach, and START from the premise / observation / assumption that wimminz suffer from an innate inability to grasp reality as a part of the thought process, things suddenly start to look very different indeed, and you yourself become open to the idea that THIS idea has ramifications and consequences that reach much further than you first assumed, and go much deeper than you first assumed.

It goes deeper than that.

If wimminz suffer from an innate inability to grasp reality as part of the thought process, then *NO* thought that wimminz have can be trusted in any subject matter dealing in any way with reality.

Want someone to write a fantasy book about vampires with 10″ cocks? No problem.

Want someone to make practical financial or business decisions? Run the fuck away.

Recent EU directives that 40% of all board room positions must go to wimminz make entirely as much sense as a directive that a further 40% of all board room positions go to children under the age of 8.

Which makes you ***really*** pause and consider, when you look at a cuck husband, this is a creature that has elected to subjugate himself before a child…. not with caveats or exceptions or a veto, but absolute submission.

Now that we have established our scorn of cuck males…. I have to tell you, married males are no better, just removing the sexual aspect from the table doesn’t make everything else THAT much better, they still have a child making 99% of their decisions for them.

Which brings into sharp relief a memory I have of many years ago now, being sat in my brother’s house one morning, with one child, his then wife, asking the other children what they wanted for breakfast, like the children were adult patrons of a restaurant, and of course the three children chose three separate meals, and only one stuck with their first choice, two changed their mind after their first order was accepted.

it goes much deeper than that….

November 17, 2013

Cause and effect.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 1:19 pm

For my sins, I clicked on this…

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/you/article-2507135/Three-women-rise-Lehman-Brothers-crash.html

Well, to me what leaped out was not three brave and heroic and genius wimminz entrepreneurs, but…

  • one wimminz who has a “business” making washable shoes for kids, a business so successful she is still living at home
  • one wimminz who has a “business” running a crèche for dogs, up to 20 dogs a day and two full time staff and London premises and rates etc so if she is making 1p profit per day I am a fucking monkey’s uncle
  • one wimminz who has a “business” making bags and yoga wear, which has yet to earn penny one, but hey, hubby is supporting her.

and the big question, just what alleged “talents” did these worthless fucks have that caused Lehman to hire them for 40k plus p.a. in the first fucking place, and can nobody else see the connection between hiring worthless fucks on huge salaries and then subsequently going fuckedcompany.com???

I mean, seriously, Lehman’s was a fucking BANK…. if your career is in banking and your employer goes tits up I expect to see you start a new career as a self employed accountant for small business, or something along those lines, not open a fucking cup cake shop.

In any event, none of these fuckers is exactly what I personally would put in a national newspaper and point to as a success story, dig as deep as you like, companies house website if you like…. there is no meat here.

Lehman’s went bust in 2008, it is now 2013, five fucking years on, and what do these bitches have to show for it that is worthy of exposure in the national press?

Five fucking years, thousands of Lehman’s employees thrown to the kerb, tens of thousands of other employees thrown to the kerb as a result of the Lehman’s crash, and *this* is what they come up with, three worthless cunts grinning at the camera like they each just sold the film rights to Harry Potter, which you can diss as much as I do, but at the end of the day at least the authoress of that series of books did clean up financially by any reasonable metric you care to employ… however, such events are lottery wins, not the daily grind of small entrepreneur makes good, that this shit article was supposed to be about.

Alan Sugar, for example, is an interesting guy, he will tell you himself that he can’t actually tell you what to do to make a million in business, but he can talk all day about what NOT to do… for example after he made money floating Amstrad on the stock market he ended up handing a wad to Nomura, and it was only some time later after the Yen tanked and he lost the lot that he learned that the investment banker;

  1. was not liable for anything, including losing all his money
  2. earned his money on commission by buying and selling stock with Sugar’s money, so he did loads of buying and selling.

Which is why and how Sugar got into commercial property, Amstrad made him a ton of money, so he went out and bought Bond Street in London and has been sat back ever since with never an empty shop with no tenants and no revenue.

But of course, nobody ever wants to hear Sugar’s advice on what not to do, they all want him to tell them what to do…. flatly ignoring what he is trying to tell them.

I empathise strongly with Sugar, whether it is my first career, Marine Engineering, or my current one, Cisco Kid, the best advice I can always give anyone is what NOT to do….. and nobody wants to listen.

Nobody wants to listen because if they did, they would not be able to do that which they have already set their minds upon doing, and that is the real secret.

*what* these three worthless cunts have set themselves up to be doing, it isn’t what they are actually doing, they don’t want to, for example, be a baker and confectioner, they want to be a successful businesswoman running a well known and profitable cup cake shop.

They want to bypass the tough and dirty bit and get straight to the top, I want it all, and I want it now…. and in a sense, I can’t blame them too much, after all, this is exactly essentially what all three were handed 5 years ago when they joined Lehman’s, in their own words… but overnight I went from penniless student to highly paid professional. The package was jaw-dropping: a rapidly rising £40,000 salary, a fully funded MBA and brilliant bonuses…. which says it all..

And back in the day every one of these worthless cunts, and there were TENS OF THOUSANDS OF THEM across the city, and a large proportion of them still have jobs, the hammer has not fallen yet, inspired thousands of other wannabe entitlement pwincesses (and pwinces) to aspire to the same.

And these three worthless cunts, they aren’t exactly living in a cardboard box under the motorway giving blow-jobs to donkeys for a 99c burger, they are all wearing shit eating grins and getting international exposure in a newspaper as successful entrepreneur wimminz.

It’s not that surprising really that so many still dream… but then again, that is the purpose of the MSM, and articles like this, to keep the dream alive.

Otherwise they would be reporting on actual truth, like the increasingly desperate state of affairs in places like Greece, where the neo-nazi party is now the outright leader in the polls, and ever the middle classes are siding with them, because of their sole policy, Greece and Greeks first, and there is no second place… and there is no mention whatsoever of this, or any other worthwhile news, in this so called news paper, anywhere.

If I wanted to be informed, I might as well read Hello magazine.

Same could be said for the BBC news website, or indeed any of the other MSM channels…

It’s 2013, the age of the internet, and I have to go and look and bypass all the dross to find any real news about what is happening in a country not very far away at all, a country I have ridden to by motorcycle more than once.

http://www.keeptalkinggreece.com/

http://www.keeptalkinggreece.com/tag/chrysi-avgi/

November 1, 2013

it’s not all that….

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 10:41 am

The reality is, my job, much as I like it, much as everything appears to be going well (as in the squeaky wheel gets the oil, and I have seen no oil cans heading my way) much as everything seems to be trickling along nicely, could end tomorrow.

It could end for a variety of reasons, from a management decision that wipes out 10% of the staff overnight, to a single line manager decision that for some (real or imagined) reason my face doesn’t fit.

Pretty much all you can do is enjoy it while you can, and certainly not worry about what it takes to be a better employee with more job security.

Now, if I talked about being a better boyfriend / husband with better relationship security, y’all would be chanting “Beta $, Alpha fucks”

But the fact is, it is true, I can no more make my self an attractive boyfriend to a wimminz who just ain’t interested, no matter what I have to offer, than I can make myself an attractive employee to a company that just ain’t interested, no matter what I have to offer.

The parallels are exact.

I don’t *want* my job to end, but the reality is I can no more influence that than I can the weather, all I *can* do, is do my job, the same as I did on my first day, no less, and no more.

The reality is that employers can and do bail on great employees as arbitrarily and unfairly as wives bail on great husbands and fathers, and there is *nothing* that you can do as a man to either influence that decision, or influence the relative value that you are assigned as a part of that decision making.

We had an *incident* at work recently, and you have to remember “work” is reseller > client > us > various departments in our place > me actually turning up on site.

The incident is I did everything I was told, to the letter, and fulfilled both the letter and the spirit of my contract, and yet, the job didn’t end up with a working widget, and nobody was happy, and so everyone started in on the blame game, and by the way I am talking global brands here… not mom and pop’s lemonade stand.

Since I was the only fucker who had actually been on site, naturally I was the only suspect in the murder case, and naturally I have not been included in the loop in all the hand wringing and blame game and no, you pay, we ain’t paying, horse-shit and horse-trading.

Bottom line?

Bottom line is two layers and seventeen levels away in the layer cake, the reseller was in possession of some data, and despite three explicit opportunities to provide this data, one of which was when I personally called their 3rd line support to ask if I was missing anything, it was never provided.

It was never provided because there were so many layers in their own organisation, nobody saw the whole picture, and nobody had any incentive to wonder what if anything was on the pieces of jigsaw that they could not see, eg the other 4,999 pieces that make up the whole.

Nor was the system itself designed in such a way as to fail gracefully, if it did not find the *thing* it wanted, all it would do is reboot, endlessly, no diagnostics, no error messages, no output, nothing.

By now it is obvious, it’s a software fault, it could be a crypto key or a TPM tie in or a licence file, it doesn’t matter, the bitch has been written to look for this shit as an integral part of the boot process, and if it doesn’t find it, reboot instantly and try again.

Which is great with 20/20 hindsight, but the people who provided this system and who resold our engineers as their own to the end user and who approved the purchase of parts that amounted to a complete new system, never though to tell the field engineer (me) this, even when he asked.

No, much easier to wait for it to go wrong and start playing the blame game.

Of course, when I point all this out, because, you know, that is the job of the field engineer, to join all the dots that everyone on higher salaries sat in their offices already has, and suddenly the blame game is reversed and all agree that actually yours truly didn’t fuck up, and the reseller will foot the bill in full, and my employer says to me you are quite right….

Yeah, and fair play to y’all for admitting it and not actually blaming me the instant the reseller tried to dump on me, but, the fact is if y’all could do *your* fucking jobs properly in the first place it would never have gotten this far.

Y’all should have been, hey reseller, our guy did, exactly and to the letter, what he was told to do and authorised to do by you, now fuck off and pay up. Any fuck up ain’t with us or our guy.

As the beta boyfriend / husband / father, it isn’t my fucking job to point out to you where you or your friends or advisers are wrong about me.

As a man with my self employed hat on, said reseller would be on my blacklist for life, not for fucking up and not telling the field engineer relevant data, but for trying to blame him as a first resort, rather than FIRST trying to identify what went wrong and where and how.

***THIS***

As a lowly employee, no doubt I’ll be doing another job for this reseller soon.

Interestingly, and notably, my fellow field engineers instantly knew that I was seriously pissed off with the whole thing, despite remaining outwardly utterly professional and calm, and as soon as they knew the facts they all sided with me 100%

Interestingly also, they all also equally apportioned the blame between our employer and the reseller, I heard more than once “redacted are known for always trying to blame everyone else.”

Learn the lesson WOPR learned, many games are un-winnable, to play is to lose.

To try to be a good employee is to lose.

To try to be a good boyfriend / husband / father is to lose.

My company DO NOT WANT an uber mega kick-ass cool slick mother-fucker of a field engineer, if they did they woulda hired one, at 20x my current salary.

Same with bitches, you want a great man you’ll hire one, you are master of this house and of me.

*THEN* you can fucking complain when your employee doesn’t live up to spec, or your man doesn’t put food on the table or coal in the hearth, as per the original bill of goods.

Trying not to be a squeaky wheel is one thing, trying to be a teflon coated hub motor 100 kW drive wheel will get you sacked, part not suitable for role.

The HR bitch DOES NOT FUCKING GET IT, pathetic little circular mails about employee of the week and Fred has had such good feedback from acme corp and don’t y’all wanna compete with Fred and be even more alpha and uber than he is?

NO

I

FUCKING

DON’T

In my ideal world you won’t even have heard of me bitch, in fact in my ideal world the only people in the company who even know I exist would be three or four people in the service department who assign me work, and the fucking payroll computer.

We have quite a few ex military types, you can see the look on their faces, like being smacked across the face with a fresh wet halibut, when I say shit to them.

I’ll get emails circulars from them about company policy and procedures and looking good for clients, and email circulars from HR about who got prizes for the best fucking Halloween costume at work, so I’ll ask them when they were on patrol in Helmand Province, was it the Afghans or the Brass who formed the judging panel for the best Halloween outfit while on patrol?

Did they have a dress down Friday where everyone went out on patrol in denim and cheesecloth and the wimminz soldiers looked like they were clubbing?

Did they hire people from the job-centre in Watford and tell them to make their own way to Kandahar, DHL should be delivering your weapons and ammo on-site for a pre-midday and you got to look for a guy wearing an aqualung who answers to the name of Trevor and fix whatever it is he says needs fixing so you can get your paperwork signed and we all get paid?

Gotta be careful who you say this shit to though…. real careful… or you’ll be seen as the squeaky wheel.

Fuck all you can do to improve your lot, as an employee or as a beta boyfriend, but plenty you can do to fuck it up…. and 99% of that will come from trying to improve your lot, or your status. or what others think of you.

 

October 19, 2013

Diminishing returns

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:53 am

Shooting the shit with a co-employee while we cooled our heels on the clock, waiting for someone else in the supply chain to get their finger out so we could complete our jobs and GTFO.

Got around to overtime, and why I almost never do it, by the time overtime comes along, you already used your tax free allowance on your basic wage, so for example is the tax rate is 45% and you basic pay is $10 an hour and the company pays overtime at time and a half….

… a lot of guys start thinking 1.5 x 10 = 15 bucks and hour, but since the whole of that 15 bucks an hour is taxed at 45% you actually get 8.25 an hour to take home.

In other words each additional hour you work is a case of diminishing returns, the sweet hours were from when you started the day at 9 until mid morning, still on the tax free bit of your tax allowance (I know, it doesn’t actually work like that, but bear with me) where your hourly rate = your take home rate.

So this is why when I look at my monthly, it usually has around 3 to 8 hours of overtime, and the total extra money I am paid for those hours after tax is sweet fuck all.6a0120a9506f8e970b01347fe72626970c

But you have to remember, I am debt free, so I can do this and look at life this way.

Wimminz be the same, after the first fuck, which may have cost you a couple of drinks, everything else is diminishing returns.

And this is for s debt free guy, for the indebted guy it is much much worse, he can neither quit the job nor refuse the overtime.

Yesterday I got a call at 4:30, would I mind doing some overtime, a hotel site 50 miles away was hard down, now as I suspected the problem wasn’t fixable by me because it wasn’t the router, it was the line, and within 5 minutes of arriving I’m logged in and the IOS command show dsl interface atm0 tells you all about the line, signal which should be a high number is hovering around 6 dB, and attenuation which should be a low number is hovering around 50 dB, the kit is detecting the xdsl carrier and getting a lock, but that’s it, I tell the guy on the other end of the phone it is a line fault.

Of course, they don’t wanna know that, because it means escalating it and making an expensive and time consuming extra step in the escalation process to call a British Telecom line engineer out, so I spend 2 hours chilling and doing occasional other tests like swapping out the router for a new one and swapping out cables and shit…… and 2 hours later with all new cables and an all new router we are sat there with a carrier detect and 6 dB snr and 50 dB attenuation, and now they listen to me and book a line engineer.

Now money wise that is an hour to get there, two hours fucking around onsite, and an our back, half of which goes to the taxman, so, not worth it, but daddy didn’t raise no dumbass.

The job wasn’t too long to ruin my evening, but, it was long enough to qualify for expenses, so I was entitled to claim for supper, which I did, a nice sit down fish supper at a restaurant, and unlike my taxed overtime, every last red cent of that bill was picked up by the company, and since I had to eat anyway, in effect that got me tax free double time, now THAT is worth it.

================================

I have occasional longer dalliances with wimminz, mini relationshits if you will, and I use the same logic, and make a point of acting like a 70’s wimminz pop star, “I know you say you love me, but what have you done for me lately bitch” in the sense I only take on that OPTIONAL overtime if it suits me and is to my direct advantage.

I make it very clear to the wimminz in question that as soon as we hit the point of diminishing returns then rain stops play and I sit at home with my feet up.

My employer, like wimminz, appreciates my attitude and appreciates me, when they ring up with an overtime job they know they have to sell it to me, start by giving me all the job details up front, not just do you want some overtime in 90210 zip…

And if I say yeah I’ll do it they thank me up front, and I say no problem, because if it was the slightest fucking problem, I wouldn’t be doing it, and we both know that.

I want to digress slightly, something related.

My job, I’m a field engineer, I almost never see a fellow employee, my interaction with my bosses and HQ is via electronic means or phone call. Electronic means is usually an electronic diary, with brief job description.

Everything else is self discipline. Nobody is watching, nobody is checking, nobody will physically see.

It is up to me to get up in time, wash, shave, put on a shirt and tie, make sure I have the shit I need to do the job, and get my ass to site for the appointed time.

The only thing keeping me honest is me.

To the extent that the squeaky wheel gets all the oil, I get none, we are supposed to have 12 weekly face to face with line managers and all kinds of shit, I saw mine once back in March or April, which suits me fine…

I say they love me, they clearly don’t, but neither do they go “Oh fuck, what now?” when a message with my name in it pops up.

I’m easy and reliable and trustworthy and predictable.

Micromanage me and my ass is dust.

Sure, it’s not easy finding an employer my attitude and approach will fly with, but I figure neither is it easy to find an employee who can go months without any supervision of any kind and still turn up able to pass a surprise inspection.

It’s not easy finding a wimminz my attitude and approach will fly with, but I figure neither is it easy for them to find a man in a world of niggerz, so if you wanna play, you gotta pay.

My crib, at the moment, is a shit pit, so don’t get the idea that the self discipline I am talking about is some OCD trip, nor do I want to give you the impression I’m gung ho for all the corporate team building shit, I flatly fucking ignore everything that is not 100% related to my actual job, I unapologetically use spam filters for the internal corporate emails, everything automated and designed to make lacklustre employees do their job is sent straight to trash, this is against company policy and the corporate IT bod, who is not a friend of mine as we have locked horns a couple times over the pathetic corporate policy on password complexity and frequency of change, the OCD 30’s IT head telling me he knew all about my objections to the policy and touting his resume as part of the attempted put down, me saying yeah, the only factor you are missing here is people… duh… despite this, and them having full access to and control of my corporate laptop every time it goes on-line, not a fucking word is said, but then again neither is anything said about using my company laptop for personal use, because I don’t, ever, not even once.

Whenever one of the bods in the office has to call me on the company phone about a job, they are always greeted by a cheerful happy voice, because I am cheerful and happy, because I don’t give a flying fuck, I do my job, I enjoy my job, there are no inducements that they can offer or threaten with that will make me change, I’ll walk.

I’m the same with wimminz.

The self discipline doesn’t mean I am Captain Save-a-ho, I am chock fucking full of mother-fucking flaws and shortcomings, but I am here because I enjoy it and because it is fun, and the instant you try to change that bitch, I’m done here.

The law of diminishing returns does not apply to your cunt / ass / mouth, my self discipline ensures that it is either all gravy, or all history.

 

October 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.

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: