Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

September 28, 2013

When you buy a new Mercedes..


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she will say “I dunno”

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

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

WTF?

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

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

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

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

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

People do what they are gonna do, wimminz particularly.

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

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

I want to tell you two small true stories.

wimminz #1

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

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

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

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

wimminz #2

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

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

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

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

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

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

She dissembles.

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

I decline to go over and fuck her.

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

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

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

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

I devote zero CPU time to em, except;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

September 5, 2013

Politicians, managers, wimminz…


They all appear to have one thing in common.

They all have an idea, a plan, an agenda, that they are pushing forwards, and reality on the ground and anything and everything else contradicting this is simply dismissed as not being relevant, or representative, or important, or real.

This is why Syria is just the latest in a series of geopolitical events to trouble me.

Cameron doesn’t know anything about the reality on the ground in various parts of London, much less say rural Dorset, yet they are pontificating about a completely different country with a completely foreign culture and history and geography.

And yes, I get the whole they are just puppets and figureheads thing, but that is just an excuse, the same could be said for Assad or Putin or anyone else.

It is all shades of claiming that Jim Carrey was actually a wuuuunderful thespian, and so he should have no personal blame attached whatsoever for being Ace Ventura etc. Bollocks, he took the fucking money, so suck it down.

You kill something by cutting off the head, if it is just a figurehead and the creature still lives, you achieved two things, you killed the whore acting as figurehead, and you revealed the nature of the creature that employed it.

The internet achieved that decapitation process, not as well as it could have, but more effectively than everything that went before put together.

Just one lifetime ago Goebbels and his peers knew that all you had to do was tell the pubic that X is an enemy and means us immediate harm, and up until that point that had been true for the entirety of human history.

True, satellite TV broadcasting and so called media groups that control television, newspapers, radio, film and music all under one roof are a pestilence, but they aren’t the only game in town.

I know *lots* of intelligent people who publicly subscribe to all sorts of off the wall cults, the more ludicrous the better, and they don’t actually believe one iota of it, it is just camouflage and an opportunity to party and meet in the flesh, and in reality they are hip to what is going on, and mercilessly cynical and sceptical of *everything* spoon fed by the MSM.

Are they paranoid?

Well, it is only paranoia if the other guy isn’t out to fuck you over, and by any actual metric you care to use, the greatest threat facing any individual western citizen at the moment is his own state, and his fellow sheeple.

If person X is able to make decisions that adversely affect my life, which in a modern technological society means there are a *lot* of person X’s out there, do I really care if their MOTIVE for that bad decision was because they thought they knew it all, or they had an agenda to push, or they were pre-occupied with the latest episode of Draghi Boo Boo or Syria’s Got Talent or I’m a Shi-ite, Get Me Out Of Here or Scud Factor?

Back in the days when we fought actual dirty on the ground wars with infantry, it was well known that a friendly bullet would kill you just as dead as an enemy bullet.

Ideas and beliefs and agendas are the same as bullets, a friendly one will fuck you up just as much as an enemy one, there isn’t one iota of difference to you.

Don’t kid yourself, it is amateur night out there, a bonfire of the vanities, and these are the people both pulling the strings and acting as willing puppets.

September 4, 2013

Grab a beer, pull up a chair.


Is my life the way I expected things to be? Is my life the way I hoped things would be? Is my life the way I dreamed things would be? Is my life the way I would like things to be?

The answer of course is NO

When I was a small boy dreaming of growing up to be a train driver or racing driver or astronaut, nowhere in my dreams was a future where everything about being a man would be despised and punished.

As a small pre-pubescent boy girls were stupid and boring, so frankly speaking a world in which they turned into worthless sluts wasn’t anywhere on the plans, as girls weren’t anywhere on the plans, so no big deal, and the only thing likely to have changed that for a 7 year old is who is gonna cook my tea?

But, a part of the process of growing up is the realisation that dreams and reality are not the same thing, and the gap between the two is not altered one iota by how much you want X to be true, all that changes is how much it hurts every day.

I never set out to socialise with men who apparently beat the crap out of their wives, raped the shit out of them, indulged in crazy obsessive psycho behaviour towards them, or wanted to fuck their little children… if I had I would have chosen an appropriate career.

In most cases of course I never actually meet or speak to or communicate with these men in any way, just the wimminz they did all this shit to.

I myself am not that kind of man.

So why do I find myself, if not increasingly tolerant towards such actual behaviour, then certainly feeling like I have more in common with these guys, whether they be alleged abusers or rapists or paedophiles, than I have in common with their alleged victims?

When a wimminz lies to a man, at the point that the man realises that X was total bullshit, while he may feel a brief flash of anger, the predominant and lasting feeling is wanting to puke.

When a bloke watches his ex on a fuck site picking up verification after verification from different people every week, 99.9% of what he feels is wanting to puke.

It isn’t a desire to kill her, or rape her, or beat the shit out of her, and if any of those feelings appear they are usually there for no purpose other than to mask the feelings of wanting to puke.

Putting yourself in proximity to that wimminz, where you can say something genuinely monumentally stupid like “why?” and actually think you are going to get an answer that isn’t total bullshit, is no more than the height of folly.

It is that “not grown up yet” thing, where you think that somehow, just because it hurts REAL bad, there must be some way to bridge the gap between your dreams and reality.

If you really really really believe hard enough, you can fly.

Your first vehicle crash, your first accident where you broke something expensive, or where your actions injured someone, or where that fire got out of control, or where you lost something really important to you.

Think back, what you felt was wanting to puke.

It is a natural human reaction when presented with a situation where the carousel stops turning and the music stops playing and there, right in front of you, is a big yawning gap between how you thought things were, and how they clearly are now.

Abject immediate and total fear for your very life will make you void your bowels and bladder, you will piss and shit yourself, a natural and evolved reaction to enable you to better survive what is right here and right now a life or death situation.

Presentation with having to face the gap between what you thought was so, and what clearly is so, is not life or death, so your body learned a different natural and evolved reaction, puke your guts up.

Ask anyone who ever got shitfaced, puke your guts up and 10 seconds later you are relatively clear headed and able to think, 10 seconds is way too long in life or death fight or flight, but it is just fine for needing to hit the turbo boost button on your brain to assimilate the difference between what you thought, and what is.

AFTER you have puked your guts up, and faced reality, the best word to describe what you feel is melancholy.

You don’t feel BAD, you feel SAD.

ohgodIamnevergonnafuckingdrinkagain is said by people who have not puked, but should have, those who have puked feel an immediate improvement, and either get back at it or wipe the bile from their mouth and say damn that was some nasty shit.

All those “no” answers at the beginning, if they make you feel sad then that is fine bro, you’ll live, and if they make you feel bad then you might not, because you ain’t puked that shit up yet.

Wimminz and their cupid stunts ain’t alcohol and diced carrots, you can’t call huey and ralph down the porcelain pipe and rid your body of the poisons that make you want to puke.

But like when you first broke something or hurt something, it is a virtual, a mental version of alcohol and diced carrots, so you have to do the mental equivalent of hurling that shit out of your body.

If watching “your” woman with another guy, or hearing about it, or reading about it, doesn’t leave with you not much more than a bit of sadness and melancholy at the sheer waste, then you need to puke that shit outta your head and heart until that is all you can make yourself feel, even if you try, most times not even that, cos you ain’t trying to pick at that scab.

If it still makes you want to puke then you have not squared what you thought was, with what was, and you need to get that shit sorted, pronto, and only you can do it bro.

Only way to do it I know of is to embrace the reality, and laugh at yourself for being such a stupid cunt you ever bought the fantasy.

The new guy upstairs is gonna get treated the exact same way the old guy upstairs was, he just don’t know it yet.

So her girlfriend turns up and all three of them go out in her shitbox 2 door compact car, guess who rides in the rear seats….. it ain’t the slits.

So what did the old boyfriend actually lose, (his clean record, his flat deposit, his liberty for a bit) with respect to her?

Serious question.

Only things he actually lost were never actually there, so he never actually lost them, they were never his to lose, sure, he had fantasies and dreams, and when the time came to puke them up and that bile rose and he was puking in his mouth, like a good beta simp he swallowed it all down again, yummy, please sir can I have some more.

So I watch a skank I fucked for a while until she lied to be slide further down the gutter, and how she is around the level where she is meeting people who (unlike her tales of allegedly abusive raping ex’s) really genuinely don’t give a flying fuck about her, they are there to use her and use her hard as long as he puts up with the ever increasing demands, rinse and repeat.

And so we are back again to where we started, where frankly I have more sympathy with them, than with her, even though they are pond life at best.

Accept *that* reality, and all the wanna puke feelings are history.

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