Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

May 6, 2013

Living on a prayer

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:12 am

This story

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2319784/We-wish-dead-Three-children-blaze-killer-Melanie-Smith-reveal-abuse-suffered-mothers-hands.html

It won’t be news to any father reading this story that psycho skank ho mommy got custody of her own kids back along, no matter what daddy tried to to… it probably won’t even be news to any father reading this that dad and the kids now wish psycho skank ho mommy was dead.

This piece isn’t about that, it is not even about how psycho skanko ho mommy managed to do something so evil, setting fire to another wimminz and her kids in the flat upstairs (oh, and that wimminz’ beta male) killing them all, that the cunt pass couldn’t be invoked and she had to go to jail.

If isn’t even about the fact that one skanky old welfare queen killed a younger and fatter welfare queen and her womb turds.

No.

This piece is about all those cunts whose job basically depended on pandering to the psycho cunt’s feeeewings at every opportunity, no matter what the cost to anyone else or society, so police, secret family courts, child welfare, social services, social security, the whole fucking works.

Collectively, we all know this.

Which is why collectively, nobody actually believes in anyone or anything any more…. which is why the wheels are falling off the wagon.

I’ll be the first to admit, in many ways, since my of psycho skank ho ex threw me into the meat grinder of the secret family courts and false rape and DV allegations, I have been like Monty Python‘s norwegian blue parrot in the parrot sketch, lying on the floor of my cage, either stunned or dead, depending on your perspective.

Partially this is because of the trauma itself, it takes time for the brain and body and soul to heal, but partly because the trauma itself is like waking up on the operating table, waking up in the twilight zone, waking up in the matrix, it forces you to see a lot of the shit around you in the world.

And seeing all THAT, that takes some more time to assimilate and percolate and absorb…

Got a “friend”, not a good buddy or a bro, just a guy, but he’s ok, works in a local harley dealership… now you gotta remember I have been riding HD since back along, on and off, shovels and pans, fairly factory stock FXE to fairly radical only factory thing remaining is the motor and trans hardtail chops… always coveted a WLA and never had one, came from the school of buying an old harley and taking shit off until you had the bike you wanted, but nowdays HD is like Mercedes, everyone and his dog owns one, and they come from the school of buying a new factory bike full of bling, and then ADDING shit from the CC catalogue until you have the bike you wanted, more bling than a chrome factory, and then not riding it more than 2,000 miles a year because it ain’t sunny and it don’t handle no more and you can’t fuckin’ ride anyway.

My friend is seeing it, far from shifting 2013 stock, they are sitting on 2012 stock they can’t sell, and lets not forget ALL vehicle dealerships became nothing more than the front office for finance deals where the vehicle was merely the method by which a finance contract was sold.

So there are, in real terms, some really good deals available on unsold new 2012 harleys, assuming you are faggy enough to even consider riding something with a 103 cubic inch engine and electronic fuel injection and engine management system that was made by the lowest asian bidder… I’m talking showroom fresh big twin soft tail 2012 models with single digit miles on the odo and a three year parts and labour warranty for 10 thousand pounds and some change, or if you prefer 500 quid down and 300 quid a month for 4 years…

75 quid a week, just over a tenner a fucking day…. national minimum wage for a 21 year (or older) is £6.31 an hour….

… and this is, in itself, yet another canary in the coalmine, when you can’t even sell THAT shit, well a part of me welcomes the demise of all the fucking posers trying to buy cool, but a part of me sees that when you can’t even sell on good terms one of the fundamental long standing dictionary definitions of cool and aspiration, (he rides a harley) then shit is getting serious.

500 down and 300 a month for 4 years = 500 + (300 x 48) = 14,900, on a cash ticket price of 10,900 this represents approx 36.7% interest over 4 years.

36.7% over four years = 8.12% per year compound… fuck, back when I was a lad coming out of the mid seventies recession and OPEC crisis HP was fucking hard to get on a motorcycle, and I can remember being quoted 36% PER FUCKING YEAR by a finance arm of what was then the Midland Bank.

36% per year compounded for three years (you couldn’t GET 4 year vehicle loans back then) is 251%, so your 10,400 loan becomes a 26,104 repayment, over 36 months = 725 a month

Also gotta be said, back then you could buy two of anything else in a bike showroom new, for what a new HD cost.

So in real terms with current finance it has never been easier to sell, but even so, one of the most aspirational things you can lay your greasy little hands on simply is not selling…

Maybe, HD are just making the wrong bikes, again, same as the AMF days, maybe, they should go back to an 80 cube, or better still 74 cube evo motor, ditch all the bling, ditch the 6 speed tranny, electronic ignition is acceptable, but back to a carb, ditch all the running boards and faggy panniers and wheel guards and running gear…. try to get closer to 300lbs dry weight than 300 kilos, try to get back to a bike that will pull 70 miles out of a gallon of gas (I used to fairly regularly run a 2,000 mile trip across europe on my old 74 inch shovel with a 44t rear sprocket, and I would average around 67 mpg on the journey) and try to get back to a bike that did what it said on the tin, eat miles and needed 6 AF spanners to strip and rebuild.

The Harley “prepper”, the Harley “post economic meltdown”, the Harley “mad max” would all sell, I’d smack down 300 a month on the mobility equivalent of a rucksack full of .22 long rifle on easy terms, doesn’t matter which way the wind blows, it’s win-win.

http://www.autoevolution.com/news/harley-appleson-and-the-factory-of-dreams-58572.html

 

Related articles

May 4, 2012

Codename “Bitch”

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 7:58 pm

In a recent post in a recent thread over at The Spearhead (link on right) poster “Lara” had this to say;

Men should be content to have one nice looking, pleasant personality woman in their lives. If they are really alpha maybe they can bump that up to one or two more. I don’t like this idea that they always need something new.

Well thanks for that Lara, and fuck you very much.

But this is worth dissecting, because wimminz often unwittingly say what they mean, not what they want us to hear, for example wimminz on PoF often type that they are looking for men, when they want us to hear they are looking for a man…

Lara is in fact saying the following things;

  1. That all men should be content to have one, self proclaimed, nice looking pleasant personality wimminz in their lives, not their bed, their lives, so this can be a mother, a boss, a sister, all will do.
  2. That truly alpha males, as judged by wimminz, may be able to up this to two or more, a nice mom AND a nice boss.
  3. That no man should be allowed to move on to pastures / wimminz new.
  4. What she did NOT say, anything at all about wimminz who are honest or loyal or true to their word, or indeed sane.

I, however, have a different set of rules.

  1. _I_ decide what is a good looking wimminz.
  2. _I_ decide what is a pleasant personality wimminz.
  3. I will not allow ANY wimminz who is not both pleasant and sane anywhere in my life.
  4. I will make a temporary exception to rule 3 from time to time, at my sole discretion, for the purposes of fucking some skank ho.
  5. I will not allow any wimminz to put her value judgements upon me in any way that affects my life… hold an OPINION of me if you like bitch, but keep it to yourself.
  6. Actually living a life with a set of values that opposes everything these wimminz would wish upon men is reason enough, eg being contrary to wimminz wishes is always the smart choice.
  7. AWALT, no such things as unicorns or dragons or wimminz who are honest and loyal and true to their word.

Bottom line is the home truth that everyone is trying to avoid giving voice to is this.

ONE – a small minority of wimminz who are fertile and sexually attractive can enjoy, for a decade or so, the pull on a man’s strings awarded by that fertility and sexual attractiveness.

TWO – for all other wimminz, you better be pleasant company and a good housekeeper or a fucking heiress, because you have sweet fuck all else to offer a man.

Lara, and her ilk, talking shit like she is actually worth anything to a man, is a lot like the bankrupt bankers and their ponzi schemes talking shit like their plans or pieces of paper are actually worth anything to a man… the idea is to distract you from stopping to consider the real basis of what is at the heart of the subject, and waste you time and energy arguing about the colour of the curtains.

Related articles

May 3, 2012

wimminz be stupid

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 1:58 am

Wimminz all talk / gossip to each other, but they forget that everyone else does it too…

Case in point, I live in a small town, I have travelled a lot but my “roots” are around here, in the sense that my family history is tied in to local history, from the simple stuff like “you see those huge trees growing around the church? My grandfather planted them all” to entries in the Domesday book.

I don’t have to go very far outside my front door to meet someone who can say, “know you, knew your father, knew your grandfather too come to that” (although with age these are getting few on the ground now) and that means that up until more or less the 1960’s when there was a lot of immigration from other parts, everywhere around here was a LOT smaller, and everyone knew everyone else.

My psycho skank ho ex, she isn’t from around here, she is one of those johnny come lately immigrants from the big shitty, she has exactly zero roots or family here.

This has two effects that she is apparently unaware of.

1/ Chances are if you try and tell someone what a complete bastard I am, they have known of my family and possibly know me or at least of me, since I was a small boy in short trousers scrumping apples.

2/ Chances are there isn’t a lot you yourself can do, without it being seen and gossiped about by those same people…. who will tie this actual witnessed behaviour of yours in with your claims of what sort of person I am, and find “discrepancies” between the person you claim to be, and the person you claim I am.

To be sure, some people will listen to you, notably those paid to do so, the social workers, the child welfare workers, the family law solicitors (again, a lot of whom are immigrants to the area since the 60’s) but notably NOT anyone with roots here.

However, when you try to tell someone what a bastard I am to wimminz, and the person sat next to you at the next table is someone who is an ex of mine from way back when, and she is there meeting her friend, who is the sister of someone who is currently my fave friend with benefits and who I have been banging for a year plus, who between them can probably name at least six other wimminz who I have been with, and who can definitely name my ex wife, because they used to live six doors down as kids, expect a lot of discussion about YOU when you leave the cafe.

Furthermore, as both these wimminz at this next table not only know me, but know everyone else in this town, there is not a lot of mileage to be gained by trying to paint yourself as some sort of victimised lonely princess, because between them they can probably name 50% of the cocks you have ridden since deciding to split up with me and alienate my kids…. and they will note that you have not managed to get any local cock, but only immigrant cock, and piss poor quality immigrant cock at that.

Furthermore, both these wimminz also have kids, and as there are only three local schools of any size, yeah, you guessed it, their kids play in the same playgrounds as the kids you are trying to alienate from me.

The bottom line here, is that you being, to quote the Stranglers, a peasant from the big shitty, you literally have no idea how living in each others pockets and knowing everyone else’s business locals are around here… a factor when growing up that can be extremely annoying for a young lad trying to sow his oats, or get served a beer underage, or any of the other stunts a kid does.

Everyone KNOWS the houses from whose windows could be heard screaming and shouting and the odd police car arriving and the next day someone had a black eye or walked favouring a limp, and the houses from whose windows could be heard ohgodohgoddon’tstopgiveittomeharder and there is little point claiming to be from one, when everyone knows you are from the other.

Perhaps the dumbest thing of all, is when you tell the other wimminz sat with you at your table, your neighbour,  what a bastard your ex (me) is, just because that wimminz does not know you are fucking her husband on the side when she is on a late shift, does not mean nobody else in the cafe is aware of this….

They just don’t care much, because the neighbour in question, and her husband, like you, are foreigners.

Robbie Burns – Oh the gift that God would give us, to see ourselves as others see us…

 

 

Related articles

February 25, 2012

I have a confession to make…

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

…it is a dirty little secret, it is something the wimminz and the secret family courts will not accept.

it is the lesson that men learn, or more accurately, what we become when we learn the lessons that the feminazis teach us, that our children are not our own, that our homes are not our own if we cohabit, that our wages are not our own if we marry, etcetera.

The dirty little secret is this;

  • I don’t give a fuck about my female kids, they will inevitably grow up to be skank ho’s, AWALT
  • I don’t, under the circumstances ***, give a fuck about my male kids, they can however come see me when they get to 16

*** = the circumstances where the secret family courts have intervened, and I am offered all the bills and all the shit end of the parental alienation stick, in exchange for a a couple of hours a month with the fruit of my loins.

When people ask me now if I am going to get married again I tell them straight, why should I look after another man’s daughter?

Fact is, my psycho skank ho ex and the feminazi secret family courts have given me something I could never have taken for myself, out of a sense of duty to my kids, despite what a cunt their mother is, and the thing they have given me is a total and complete break from them all.

So the dirty little secret is the cunts have all done me the greatest service that they could have possibly given me, in the current society, with the current feminazi laws and attitudes.

They have not just given me an education and hit me with a clue by four about the state of society, because I was in some danger of losing my cynicism and getting all rosy eyed when dealing with the kids, they have not just given me my freedom from burden and obligation 24/7 and my freedom from all financial obligations, when I was in danger of sucking it all down and spending what it took at least until the youngest hit 16, and probably beyond, they have not just given me unlimited free access to guilt free skank ho cunt, by removing their cock-blocking selves from my life, they have not just given me back my freedom of expression, by removing their disapproving attitudes and presence from my life, they have given me back my sense of FUN, by fucking off out of my life and taking every last fucking thing associated with them out of my life too.

When daughters start sucking cock at 12 and coming home to skank ho mommy pregnant at 14, I don’t give a fuck, I won’t be there.

When sons start ruling the roost at 12 and treating skank ho sisters like the filthy sluts they are, and mommy as the bitch that does the laundry etc, I don’t give a fuck, I won’t be there.

When skank ho mommy tries to get some replacement cock and has to contend with the fact that she has kids at home and any man stupid enough to take her on knows she is already basically past it at late 40’s and a minimum of 10 more years to go before the youngest is out of her hair, home and purse, I don’t give a fuck, I won’t be there.

While the youngest has the next ten years to forget who his daddy is before he comes to a place where he can choose to find his daddy and go see him, that knife cuts bot ways too, I have another ten years to forget who my boys are, and hell it has already been three, and yeah it fades…. and already I don’t give a fuck, because nobody gave me a choice (and I suspect that is how the kids will feel)

So I’m going to skip all the torn another pair of school trousers / fighting with your sister again / stole money from mums purse / sucked on the neighbour girls titties shit, and go straight to the “Wanna grab a beer, son?” stage… I already done all the bowel movements and first steps and first “dada” and all that shit, so I don’t give a fuck about what I am “missing”, I won’t be there.

When my skank ho ex’s freaky broke mother and freaky emigrated father finally kick the bucket and its crocodile tears and funeral time, I don’t give a fuck, I won’t be there.

When the skank ho ex’s body collapses they way wimminz in general do, and the way hers will (see a woman in 20 years, look at her mum now, and her mum looked *fucking* rough 12 years ago) and things dry up and stop working and so on, I don’t give  fuck, I won’t be there.

When the economy crashes and times get hard, I don’t give a fuck, I won’t be there.

When psycho skank ho ex has to walk or get the bus or train everywhere, which she does now, all weathers, I don’t give a fuck, I won’t be there.
(I’ll be cruising by in my luxury German auto, laughing my fucking ass off at you peasants standing at the bus stop, like I did today…)

When the grass needs cutting, the leaking radiator needs fixing, the rubbish needs taken out, I don’t give a fuck, I won’t be there.

Let’s be honest and face it, if you hadn’t thrown all this shit at me, I would have been so busy doing all that other shit that I wouldn’t have had much if any *real* quality time with my kids, being around you would have poisoned all that.

Your attempts to “punish” me by taking your cunt, and everything that came out of it, out of my life, has basically been the greatest favour you could have done me, you have set me free…

…that, is my confession, my dirty little secret.

Comparing what I have now, with some FANTASY IDEAL RELATIONSHIP WITH MY SONS THAT I WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN PERMITTED TO HAVE, not as long as you were around, is not a valid yardstick.

Comparing what I have now with what I would have ACTUALLY been allowed to have if you were still around, that’s the key, and frankly I have had all the good years, as mentioned above, seen the first steps, first potty, first dada, I can miss that interim shit and wait for the first beer together.

That’s my dirty little secret, my confession, and trust me on this, if I had let the cunts even suspect that this was my attitude before all the dust settled and all the court cases were done and false accusations and shit had faded away…. well I wouldn’t be here, they would have done far worse, and I would be dead or inside prison for many years to come.

It was soooooooooooo fucking gratifying when it was finally done and dusted, to be able to let my locked in facial expression go and laugh out loud in their faces, because I could see from the facial expression of my psycho skank ho ex, she still thinks she is the catch, and she is punishing me by separating me from her cunt, and everything that came out of it….  social services, the court, they all think they have put one over on me and put me in my place…

  • NO alimony
  • NO child support payments
  • NO injunctions prohibiting me for certain streets etc
  • NO attachment of earnings
  • NO reporting or disclosing of any of my finances or affairs or business
  • NO monies or assets to be handed over

The home we shared was rented, and I put all MY shit in storage, and called the house clearance people to take EVERYTHING else (except her clothes and some papers, two 4 cubic foot tea chests of stuff that was hers) away.

I don’t see that I came off worst here…. lol

Related articles

February 19, 2012

it’s a funny old world…

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 12:03 pm

I was reminded this week of the importance of always treating your skank ho’s with the contempt they deserve.

One of the longer running skank’s who was only longer running in the first place because she was amenable to me dropping by, getting a blow-job, and leaving, is now on her way out… I have mentioned this skanky piece of meat before, she has a surprisingly good body and is a surprisingly good suck/fuck, but get too close and her personal life is a fucking disaster area.

The danger here of course is because the slut provided on demand good sex and nothing else, you start to think it is a bit of a good thing…

…which means that when she pulls the inevitable (AWALT) shit test on you, you may do something other than mutter “fuckit” and walk away and cross her off the list.

Fact is with 20/20 hindsight this particular skank slipped a couple of teensy tiny shit tests (sorry, not available to suck your cock tonight) past my defences, which I put down to her genuinely chaotic lifestyle, shrugged, paid it no attention and carried on because after all it ain’t like she was the only cocksucker in town…

So when this poked up on my radar at a concious level the solution is simple, the bitch is history.

But it raises a really good point, and related to that point is the fact that if my dad had told me this shit when I was younger, I would not have listened, you have to learn shit for yourself, BUT, and here is the important bit, when those self learning life events come along, it makes a hell of a difference is the “reference materials” are lying around to hand and kinda familiar… so even when dad is no longer around, I can replay in my head what dad did and did not do, how he acted, how he talked, and come up with a damn good idea what he would say, were he still around, now that I am ready to listen.

___THIS___ by the way is what psycho skank ho mommies steal from their male children when they exclude the father from that child’s life, the kid grows up without a good model of “what would dad do/say?” in his head.

So, anyway, back to the plot, and the advice my dad would have given me, were he still around.

That advice would have been that the very first sorry, not available to suck you cock tonight, even though the cock sucking was free, even though I lost nothing, even though I had other options, was a game over event.

A game over event, because pleasing me was not her top priority, and when pleasing you is not a wimminz top priority, they cease to have any purpose or function in your life…. I got better things to do with my life than come second best in the eyes of some skank ho who can’t even keep her sink clear of dishes….

Thing is, any salesman will tell you, when you lose a regular customer your “sales gaydar” goes into overdrive, and you pick up on an new sales outlet / opportunity, and you do that because you are acting and thinking in ways that you would not be, if you were living off the fat and getting your cock sucked on demand.

And so it goes, not back on PoF because you never left, but back with that extra smidgen of hunter’s relish, and because there are always Plenty of Fish in the sea, you soon replace the not available tonight skank ho with a better one.

And THAT, my friends, is the real point, you are in effect always trading up.

Even if the new skank ho isn’t empirically better than the just shit-canned skank ho, the fact that she is new, that she has not succumbed to the inevitable “familiarity breeds contempt” scene that all wimminz get, means she is a trade up from the one who got to that stage… “New Game” syndrome.

The other point that needs stressing here is no man is an island, it simply isn’t possible to have dealings with wimminz without it having some sort of feedback effect into your life… y’all KNOW this shit, this is the mechanism that traps you in a relationshit for years of misery…

It’s a lot easier to stop that wedge before the fucking thin end ever gets near you, and boy, sorry, not available to suck your cock tonight is the thin end of the wedge, it is the point at which the wimminz familiarity with you has started to breed contempt for you.

The lesson you YOU need to learn here is that being wimminz, this is NOT a fucking lesson they are CAPABLE of fucking learning, AWALT, remember, it is hard-wired into the bitches at DNA level.

As soon as it manifests itself ALL YOUR OTHER OPTIONS VANISH, you have a stark, binary, choice between allowing that thin end of the wedge into your life, and back to mangina niggerz land it is for you, or fucking it off entirely out of your life. Nothing in between.

The lessons my daddy would have taught me is I have to learn these lessons myself, as do you, but you need some shit like this article to be lying around within reach and conciousness when your moment of learning that particular lesson cometh, otherwise you end up feeling pain and hurt and confusion and all that good shit that is often branded as the price of “love” or some such shit.

This shit is a MAP, to help you navigate your way out of the trees that have become a wood while you were not looking or paying attention.

Sites / blogs like this are just a way of paying it forwards, I am legally excluded from directly being able to leave this shit lying around in my male kids consciousness, but paying it forwards is a way around the feminazi culture we live in today.

I have LEARNED enough that I take one look at a pic of a wimminz, click, my brain instantly picks out the clues, dark dark nail varnish, check next to the “submissive slut” check-box, and so on, I don’t even really consciously know I am making these judgement calls half the time, only afterwards do I realise, and I am right so much more often than I am wrong with each little check-box, and the overall picture I am so close it is uncanny, yes, AWALT, but there are variations, and it is within these variations that we must live our lives, ply our trades, and graze.

Just this week I had a PoF wimminz tell me that she was aware of the fact that I was exactly the kind of guy she liked being around, I made her laugh and feel alive, I was exactly the sort of company she wanted, but she really did not want to fuck me, because she knows I am all about the fucking and once I fuck her it is game over, and I had to remind her, I only agree to hang out with her on condition she introduced me to her slutty skank ho friends… I tell them all wimminz only want fried snow, and no man should ever pay any attention to a wimminz say what she wants, because wimminz do not know what is best for them… worst thing a man can ever do is listen to what a wimminz tells him she wants / likes / needs, and they fucking laugh, and another one of the skank ho’s is sacrificed to be impaled on my cock… win/win

See, the thing is, you just cannot ***know*** this shit at the age of 20.

God I wish I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, and all that good stuff, but not possible, not because time travel is impossible, but because it just takes X number of years of living in feminazi land to learn this shit down pat.

But you can get a “map” at 20, a “crib sheet”, a “walkthrough”, a “for dummies”.

Follow it to the letter, come back later and wonder about how and why that shit works.

Wimminz, cos God needed something to make cats looks dependable.

Related articles

January 2, 2012

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

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:58 pm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit / Animals / Kids

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

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

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

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

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

Related articles

December 25, 2011

It’ll be lonely this cuntmass

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:34 am

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then a funny thing happens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Related articles

%d bloggers like this: