Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

December 30, 2013

Got to get your head around this shit

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 10:58 am

It’s a recurring theme with guys I talk to…

“If only Mandy wasn’t such as xxxxx she would be great…”

And if wishes were horses no fucker would walk.

Guys, I feel your pain, I really, literally do, the gap between the reality and what you wish for is big enough to hide and swallow whole universes of pain and heartache, but, it is what it is, and if wishes were horses etc

I hear this all the time too, if only, in hindsight, I had said or done this, and not that, she would still be with me / be with me / be sucking on my cock / not have lied to me / etc etc etc

Fucking grow up, she did not act the way she did because you did or said the wrong code phrase, she acted the way she did because that is the way she is.

Yes, you could, in theory, have acted a different way, and had a different outcome, eg she would be sucking on your cock right now, but, and this is the biggie and back to wishes and horses, she would still be doing what she is doing, and doing it because that is the way she is.

You do NOT leave a bundle of 20’s on the dashboard of your parked car with the doors and windows open, that does NOT make the thief who walks by and finds nothing to steal any less of a thief.

You DO leave a bundle of 20’s etc, the thief walks by and steals them, you did NOT make them a thief.

You don’t leave a bundle of 20’s in plain view because it is stupid and inviting trouble to tempt a thief by doing so, your concern is not with the honest, they have no interest in your property… however little apparent care you take of it.

When you hit the dating / fucking sites and score 0 for 200 attempts, that is not a reflection that your tactics failed, and you should have said or acted differently to score, thinking this way is denying that gap between wishes and reality.

Scoring 0 for 200 is a reflection that your tactics WORKED, you avoided 200 skanks that sure, might have got you laid, but sooner or later, only a question of time, you would come to regret it.

Guys, far from me being able to find ONE example of a wimminz that I have known that, if only this one thing about her was this instead of that, she and we would have been great, this is the story of EVERY WIMMINZ that I have known, no exceptions.

I know, for a fucking fact, 99% of these wimminz can’t help it, but wish they could, wish someone would come along and prevent them from destroying their own lives and leaving them nothing but the gutter and cats and piss… some of the more honest ones will openly admit and discuss this with me, and then turn around and sting the frog they are riding, and then blank me, because it is too painful personally for them to talk to me any more, because I will be a mirror to that fuckup, and that hurts.

You know, on occasion, I have been called in to counsel people, people who are facing issues because a family member has turned into a junkie or an alky. Let’s say the alky/junkie in question is called Tom.

I tell all these people straight, the Tom you knew is dead, this Tom looks like that Tom, talks like him, walks like him, has all his memories, but it isn’t Tom, it is an invasion of the body snatchers Tom, this Tom is not your Tom…. there is nothing you can do for this Tom, and all you can do for yourself is accept that old Tom is dead, and keep this alien body-snatcher 100% out of your life forever.

But there is the gap between wishes and reality, Tom never really kicks the habit, and the person who ignored my advice pays the price, again and again and again.

One of the things you have to accept, and I really do mean this, you have to accept to the point where you own it and make it your own, is the concept that as time passes and you get older, certain things are no longer probable, where probable is me being pedantic and not using the word possible, because there are exceptions, but they are incredibly rare, so I use probable in the sense that it is possible you are holding a winning lottery ticket, but it is not probable.

Would you accept a not yet drawn lottery ticket as full payment for a new car you were selling? No…

Would you attempt to offer a not yet drawn lottery ticket as part payment of a overdue debt you owed to Luigi and Giorgio, who are about to kneecap you, because apart from the lottery ticket you have shit to offer them… Yes…

You cannot sit here and declare yourself to be a red pill motherfucker and talk about wimminz and the wall, and not accept that you also are not immune from the effects of entropy.

Does it pain me that I have almost certainly met, for me, the absolute best fuck I could ever imagine having, but sadly other factors (she was a lying cunt, quelle surprise) meant it died a death, to be specific, I have probably passed the peak of the best sex I am ever going to have… does it pain me?

Well, wishes and reality… that’s the truth.

I’m on one side of that bottomless chasm, and wish I was on the other side.

But I am not.

I do not blame ANYONE, man or wimminz, for simply wishing they were on the other side of the bottomless chasm, for example, I wish the best fuck I ever had wasn’t a liar like all the rest.

I do blame people for denying reality, you ARE on this side of the chasm, if the bitch wanted to get in touch and make amends, because she genuinely regretted lying to me, nothing would have stopped her, one more message from me to help her / save her from herself, one more email in case she missed the last one, one more phone call in case she has changed her mind, one more card in the post extending the olive branch… you get ma drift….

Wishing hurts.

Denying reality is just picking at that scab so it never heals and never stops hurting.

That is what wimminz do, and like Tom the alky/addict, it is a journey that each individual chooses, a journey that can only be taken alone.

DMJ wrote a book, As I walk these broken roads, to me, in many ways it could equally well have been titled As I walk these lonely roads, one title is the physical, the physical roads are in disrepair, that is what is below the main protagonist‘s boot heels, the other is spiritual, that is what is above the main protagonist’s boot heels, and inside his flesh.

We all walk lonely roads, ships that pass in the night, etc etc etc, when I was a young lad, pre-pubescent, which is important because it means you can exclude sex from the equation, there was a TV series that I used to watch, now, I can only remember two things about it, the name The Flashing Blade, and a line from the intro song.. “it is better to have fought and lost, than never fought at all”

And thanks to the marvel’s of t’internetz..

So, in later years, because that is how the brain works, or at least, how my brain works, every time I was supposed to quote Tennyson and loved and lost, I always ended up writing fought and lost, and failed that question… I guess it is a bit like driving from A to B, you miss a turning the first time you make the journey, in all subsequent journeys you miss the same turning and end up making the same alternate way back to the main route.

You’d think that fighting men would get it, one second you’re talking to your mate, next second you’re tasting what is left of him, spattered all over you, but that’s apparently where PTSD comes in, not accepting your on the wrong side of the abyss, nowadays in the western world we pull fighting men out, in other places or on other sides and at other time you stayed “in theater” as it were, for years at a time, no PTSD there, and no doubts about what side of the abyss you were on.

I have no idea how many wimminz I have fucked, we can call that anything from police actions to guerilla warfare, and of course the FRA’s and shit, well, that was Hiroshima and Nagasaki, I’m a veteran, not a superhero super soldier, just a veteran who has been on every shit detail on every battlefront of the gender war, and yeah, I re-upped myself at every opportunity, hoo-fucking-rah… what a fucking putz… but…

but…

A literal lifetime in the trenches does get you way past that PTSD hump and into territory where you cross the abyss, and then the next, and then the next, and if wishes were horses I still be the fresh faced innocent punk outside the recruiting office, and I’d have had real options other than walking in, and I’d have ridden everywhere and walked nowhere.

But wishes are not horses, wishes are not reality, I know the difference.

I see new battalions thrown to the lions every week, and it is a slaughter of the innocents, and the only way I know how to survive it is to become like me, and I dunno that I would wish that on you poor bastards either, I guess God will sort it out.

But every single one of those who I ended up wearing as camo, or seasoning in my billy, or whose shit I had to hump because they took one for the team, every single one of them had one thing in common, they all thought that wishes were horses, all they had to do was believe enough, try enough, pray enough, and the abyss between wishes and reality would be bridged.

The bad news is, plenty who did know shit from shinola still bought it along the way, so learning wishes from horses isn’t perhaps so much a way of surviving, but a mark that all the survivors have in common… so far… hostilities haven’t ceased…

October 21, 2013

Teaching pigs to fly.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 12:29 pm

There is a thing about ageing.

Ageing = the passage of time.

With the passage of time, unless you live in your own little artificial bubble, things happen, if you have your eyes and ears open this counts as something called “experience”

With sufficient passage of time two individuals of the same age in the same culture are going to share many experiences, and therefore they are going to share many world-views.

When you are 20 the mutterings of a 70 year old man about human nature in general just sound like some grumpy old fuck with a limp wrist who never amounted to anything when he was alive, and at 70 he is long dead from the neck up.

As you get older, that view shifts, at 20 you weren’t as immortal and dynamic and world changing as you thought you were, and the beat goes on, and one day you wake up and realise that the now long dead silly old cunt wasn’t so daft after all.

My grandad was viewed as such by me when I was a teenager, a silly selfish old cunt who didn’t give a fuck about his wife, only his sons, and not their wives either, and when push came to shove his #1 son very unusually produced one daughter only, so fuck her too, whereas his #2 son in turn had two boys, and when it came to will writing time even though there was barely a pot to piss in he made sure that everything was left in trust for those two boys…. what estate there was allowed the second wife to purchase a small home after his death (she was much younger than him) but it was never going to be her property, it was in trust.

Silly old cunt.funny_squirrel_2

Now I’m older, not that there is or will be anything left in that trust by the time the lawyers get through with it, despite the fact that wife #2 is still alive some 42 years after grandad snuffed it, so it ain’t about the money, but now that I am older, well, he wasn’t such a daft old cunt after all.

At the very least not letting her get ownership prevented her from selling it and going on a cruise, and a direct result of that is she has had a roof over her head these past 42 years.

Every wimminz I have ever known pretty much fits into this category, the only things not totally fucked up about their lives are the things they themselves have been totally denied any control over.

Wimminz appear to be quite unable to process the idea that actions and choices have consequences that reach out through time like ripples from a rock thrown into a pond.

Niggerz too…

So they “hope” they won’t lie to you again, betray you again, stab you in the back again, but the typical man’s response of “don’t hope, bitch, don’t try, fucking DO…..” might as well be uttered in klingon.

Because it comes from a world of cause and effect, a world in which never checking your engine oil and then ignoring the idiot light leaves you by the side of the road with a fucked motor.

In a world with no cause and effect, there is no possibility to teach anyone anything, all you can do is curtail, control and imprint.

———————————————————————–

One of the consequences is you tend to not say shit, so when you come across another blog mentioning something you already knew, you feel a sense of surprise.

Doesn’t everyone know that? It was famous…

But then again, I’ve lived longer than many people, it’s that experience gap again.

 

November 28, 2012

“lessons will be learned” – err, no they fucking won’t

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 4:47 pm

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2239373/Cyril-Smith-Victim-MP-speaks-horrendous-abuse-boys-home-police-say-chances-missed-bring-justice.html

The guy was a fucking MP for christ’s sake, even I can remember the rumours about him and I lived hundreds of miles away, and yet, purely by coinkydink you understand, enough “blunders” are made in several investigations to ensure that basically it all gets hushed up until long after he is dead and buried.

This is just one of numerous “scandals” that just sort of run out of steam before anyone gets thrown in jail in Rule 43 (segregated for their own protection) so all there are are rumours and allegations about north Wales kids homes, channel islands kids homes, Plymouth (Devon, UK) social services and judges and abused kids, and on, and on, and on.

Now finally the UK is in line with the rest of the western world, the head of the national bank is an ex (ho ho) Goldman Sachs employee.

It’s all just coincidence y’understand, and it is, in fact, once you factor in the real salient factors.

The real factors are that once you are in the club, you associate with people from the club, and you appoint and employ and promote other people from the club, after all, that is what they did for you.

Sure, people in the club may have moral issues of one kind of another, but they are in the club… and those they fuck over aren’t in the club.

If this sounds reminiscent of some inbred Texas chainsaw massacreee, well you wouldn’t be far wrong, cousin Delbert may well like choking chickens, but he is a cousin, family, after all, so fuck all them darned outsiders.

I have a mate who emails me about the dire state of things at his place of work, where he is tasked with doing various things and implementing various things in the IT department, of course he is given a budget of four bucks and some change to do this, and the next thing that happens is the board members just over-rule everything he does and appoints a nephew to run the corporate website and a friend to run the GPS/3G mobile station network and in clear violation of the IT policy they themselves told my friend to create and implement they authorise the purchase of some high end macbooks and ipads for current favourite managers and department heads.

I ask him what the fuck he expects, and if he thinks any other company in the country, or indeed the country itself, is run any different.

Last week I got a call, rescue me, from someone in his situation, nobody else in the company knew that the head of IT and I were old friends, so I turned up on a daily consultancy and made sure I stayed long enough for all the presentation bullshit and especially the free lunch, so immediately after lunch (3pm) it was my turn to speak.

So they are all sat there nursing black coffees after the cognac and cigars at lunch, and fiddling with their ipads slicing vegetables, and I am asked to stand up and speak about the corporate website and change driven technology buzzword buzzword leveraging the marketing paradigm etc.

So I stand up, “good afternoon gentlemen, thank you all for an excellent repast, now if you will all please pick up your ipads and enter this URL“, me holding up a piece of A4 with black marker saying http://www.competitor.com where “competitor” is one of the main competitors of this lot, and whose inroads into their sales figures are what prompted the whole “innovation driven change” policy and even more “friends and relatives” being brought on-board in senior positions.

So they all do this and the website in question pops up.

“As you can see….” I say “….a traditional website design, navigation area on the left, search box top right, footer containing the usual links, but in its favour it loads quickly and works well”

Heads are nodding but I can see I have already tried their patience, after all I was brought in to talk about THEIR new website, not their competitors….

So I hold up a new piece of A4 with http://www.yourcompany.com written on it, and ask them to enter the URL.

It takes about 60 seconds for all of them to do this, frown, poke their ipads some more, before someone else pipes up “It doesn’t seem to be working”

“Quite so,” I state, “….and that is because your new website is a steaming pile of crap that uses flash for EVERYTHING, and so to all your potential customers they are presented with a choice between competitor.com which won’t win any awards but just works, and yourcompany.com website which doesn’t work on any executive devices because it is 100% flash, and which is still a slow and steaming pile of shit on PC’s because apart from all the other design failures, the page turning animation sound for the catalogue section is a file that is big enough to contain all the text on competitor.com’s entire website.”

Smiles around room

“Thank you once again for the excellent lunch gentlemen, that concludes my presentation, for which there will be no charge.” Walks out of room studiously ignoring my mate who looks like a man surrounded by greedy relatives who has just realised he has a winning lottery jackpot ticket in his pocket.

I’m outside corporate hq trying to decide what to do with the rest of the day when my smartphone chirps, I have an SMS from my mate, “Man, that was fuckin awesome”

He rings me later that night, still enthused, and tells me he wishes he has the balls to do what I did.

I tell him, it’s not a question of balls old son, it’s a question of no longer giving a fuck, and I no longer give a fuck because I have no overdraft, no credit card balance, no mortgage, no hire purchase, no car finance, no store cards, and of course no fucking wife.

In short, I am exactly the sort of person LEAST wanted by the boardroom, or indeed the club as mentioned above, because let’s face it, I make have fuck all, but I have fuck all to hide, so I can’t be presured or manipulated etc.

So here you go Jimmy, this one’s for you…

October 17, 2012

Do anything you wanna do…

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

I have, or rather I thought I had, covered this many times.

Apparently I didn’t, or if I did, I wasn’t fucking blatant enough.

It’s 2:30 am, and you know who you are, so this is inspired by you, just so there is no future mistake.

PEOPLE DO EXACTLY WHAT THE FUCK THEY WANT TO DO

This applies to wimminz and niggerz too, by extension, if people do not do something, it is because they couldn’t be fucked, not because of any other excuse they gave you, or any excuse you are making for them…

  • If she doesn’t call you, it is because she can’t be fucked to call you.
  • If her responses to you are short and not so sweet, it is because she can’t be fucked to take the time to give you longer and more considerate answers
  • If she has only ever got real close to you when she wanted something, it is no coincidence that she is not around you when she does not want something from you, or worse still from her point of view, when you want something from her.
  • If she does want you to know she is thinking of you, caring for you, available for you to fuck, wild horses will not prevent her from letting you know this every single fucking day of your life, network problems, app problems, phone problems, email problems, work problems, money problems, sick kid problems, yadda yadda yadda, none of it will stop her letting you know, if she wants you to know.

Are you getting the fucking picture yet?

Here is what I do, I have two “historical” categories for wimminz, those I set my stall out for but didn’t fuck, and those I set my stall out for and did fuck.

The differences between the two groups are actually non-existent, apart from one, there is only one difference, and it is not that I fucked one group and not the other, it is the REASON I did NOT fuck one group, and that is they are totally unable to control their own bullshit long enough to get laid by me, the other group being those able to control their own bullshit long enough to get laid by me.

These two groups have one thing in common, I never contact them…  they return the favour… if I tried to contact them I would be “creepy” and a “stalker” and end up with an injunction…

So I have two “groups” of contacts on my phone specifically for the wimminz, “bunnies” and “boilers“, every skank ho ends up in one or the other, the bunnies I fucked, the boilers I did not fuck.

In three years, three wimminz have managed to stay out of one or other of those two categories for more than a month, one of them has managed it for a rather astonishing year, by the simple fact that what they wanted to do was stay in touch and make sure I knew every day (while it lasted) that their cunt was available for my use 24/7.

Once a wimminz gets into either the bunnies or boilers groups of contacts, I will never, ever, ever contact them first again, I ***may*** respond if they contact me, which can rarely happen, but I never ever ever instigate contact, both groups are the morgue, the graveyard, the cess pit.

People do what the fuck they want to do.

  • If she has a threesome with the janitor and pool guy, it is because she wanted to.
  • If she walks out on your ass, it is because she wanted to.
  • If she takes your kids, it is because she wanted to.
  • If she trashes the car, it is because she wanted to.
  • If she falsely accused you of rape or DV, it is because she wanted to.

Are you listening buddy? All that crap about her personal problems and her history and her kids health and yadda yadda yadda, it is all bullshit.

She is doing exactly what she wants to do.

Judge her by her ACTIONS, not her words.

She is NOT making sure you know every single day that her holes are available for your use 24/7, that is an ACTION, to be specific an action she is choosing NOT to make, at least towards you.

The reason it took until a 2:30 phone call instead of a till 2:00 phone call was part two, convincing the guy that this shit applied to him too, be a man of ACTION, not a man of words, specifically do NOT bother writing one last email to the psycho skank bitch telling her she is too flaky and dishonest and skanky for you.

Be a man of ACTION, but her in the bunnies pile or the boilers pile, and forget the bitch ever existed.

THE FUCKING REASON for the bunnies pile and the boilers pile is one day, one or more of these psycho skank ho bitches IS going to decide that she WANTS to talk to you again and maybe hook up for a bit, and you being you will only remember the fuckable bits of that cunt, if anything, and you’ll be all “Hey how are they hangin’” because you never know, you might get laid or a free blow job… right…?

Wrong, they are in the bitches and boilers piles for one reason and one reason only.

So you can NEVER EVER EVER EVER FUCKING EVER forget that they all have one thing in common.

They all had one chance with you already, and they blew it.

It’s about time YOU did what YOU fucking wanna do, which is NOT sit around agonising if she got that text, if the network is down, if her car is broke down, if her ex is giving her a hard time, if her kid will make it through surgery, or even if she wants to fuck you.

Which inevitably brings me back to the three wimminz in three years who managed to stay out of the bunnies / boilers groups, the two who managed it a month were worth the odd casual fuck, and the one who lasted a year I got to quite like, but in a sexless sorta way, available to fuck and reasonably fuckable, but lets be honest, I’ve had everything she has to offer sexually, so where is the fun, so what was the fucking point…. beyond getting my ironing done.

All three fell into the bunnies / boilers just as soon as what they wanted to do was to not to let me know daily that they were there for me, because all three for something / someone more interesting to do what they wanted to do with.

Just in case you missed the point;

  • smokers smoke cause they want to
  • drinkers drink cause they want to
  • liars lie cause they want to
  • cheaters cheat cause they want to
  • thieves steal cause they want to
  • people do what the fuck they want to do

Judge them by their ACTIONS towards you, not their words, not spoken words, to written words, not SMS words, and not unspoken, unwritten or untexted words either.

They WILL get a babysitter / breakdown truck / train / flight / mobile signal / day off / what the fuck ever, WHEN IT SUITS THEM, when it is what they want to do.

The title of this bit, 1977 baby… good lyrics

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October 16, 2012

Not this shit again.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 2:20 pm

You know the feeling, it doesn’t matter how bored shitless you are, you just cannot bring yourself to watch another cookie cutter star trek episode, or another walking dead, or another lost, or another any fucking thing.

Sitting there and watching a candle flicker is more interesting and relaxing.

I was entreated to go through my old bookmark.html files, created when I make my regular backups, going back over a decade and to click every single link.

Hey, WTF happened to geocities? lmao

server not found, server not found, server not found, ooh, it’s still there, server not found..

Some of them, simply because it has been so long, and also because they aren’t actually trying to tell me or sell me anything, are a pleasant nostalgic revisit..

Turn your speakers and sub-woofers up and feast on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4MjC1Ywofg for example, some of them are stuck in amber, and some of them, well WTF happened here, and then there are the rest.

The rest are like soap operas, you can walk away for 5 years and walk back and sit down and within 10 seconds get exactly what is going on, which is why I don’t watch soap operas, or anything by star trek or lost or walking dead or dexter or csi or bones or storage wars or pretty much anything else.

Usually ten minutes into episode one I see it is just a re branded version of something else that is old and lame, and cancel play and delete, sometimes, just sometimes, it is fresh enough I watch the next episode, or maybe the one after that too, before I realise they just used all the fresh and new that they had in stock, and the rest of this series and the next three series are going to be indistinguishable.

Blogs are particularly susceptible to this, the need to create a new article every day, or 5 a week, or 5000 new words a week, or 50 new adwords a week, you don’t have to ask when you get there, you got there ages ago.

Then you get people who are quite interesting, but within a few minutes your realise that while their experience as a toll booth operator gave them enough material to be interesting as all get out for 5 minutes exactly, at 5 minutes and 1 second they start repeating themselves, because they have done nothing else in their life, they are a toll booth operator, mostly boring, and you just got all the highlights, from here on in it is all downhill.

I used to know this guy, you would know his name, axe player in a very well known band, lots of shit he could pretend was only temporary, but a 90 date tour cooped up with the same bunch of cunts and roadies and dealers and groupies and hangers on, doing basically the same session over and over, that was the hard times at the rock face / well head for him, and like a mantra running through his head as long as he could  was “think of the fucking money” which was the only way he got through it every time, until he didn’t any more.

Whatever the dreams of rock and roll, by the time one album has gone gold you look at their eyes and all the guys and gals on stage strutting their stuff are about as into the gig as the duty proctologist down at city hospital, everyone else is just another boring asshole.

1080p is a pure bitch for this, not that the first Matrix film was all that good, but at least it was fresh, watch a full quality 1080p stream of the second matrix film and all you can see is the uncanny valley, CGI Agent Smith‘s and CGI Neo and CGI pretty much fucking everything else akshully, and whatever interest there was in watching the film just dried up… but then there was a film all about this… Simone…. amusingly it bombed, despite being orders of magnitude better than the matrix turdology.

And so for whatever reasons I started this little bookmark thing out, I have progressed to the point where my own little psycho skank ho decided to play the FRA card on my ass and my browsing and bookmark history took a turn for the more macabre and grim, I expect you see the same thing with people who have been diagnosed with cancer etc.

At that point things start to get a little like a diary, a little like scar tissue.

Scar tissue is fun, I can show you a small white mark on my leg, you probably wouldn’t even notice it unless I pointed it out to you, and even then, it is just a small white scar to you, or anyone else.

To me, it takes me right back, SWAPO (back when they were toting, not voting), tsetse fly, bilharzia, and a piece of barbed wire that just tore a gash in my leg, that was me, the same person, but not the same person, because I have done so much since then, gone so many places, talked to so many people…

… and that’s when you get THAT feeling, that realisation that while you may still be 16 inside, in some ways you are also 60 and in some ways 600, and THAT is what you didn’t have when you were 16… the older skin not so much, the inner 60 year old and inner 600 year old,that’s what you lacked at 16, that’s why you bought so much bullshit and wasted time listening to and hanging with assholes.

As a being, as a creature, I have evolved and grown… my life cannot be stripped of everything merely mundane and compressed into 300 seconds of anecdotes about weird and funny shit that happens to toll booth clerks.

Despite the lack of any plan, and often of any apparent guiding intelligence, and often contrary to all expectations, I have managed thus far to live and varied and interesting life, in the way that a varied and interesting diet is essential to good nutrition and a varied and interesting education is essential to a good intellect…

And so I go through the bookmarks, and I find that while I have, as usual, grown and changed and evolved since first coming across those MRA websites, many of the website owners and operators have been stuck in amber.

I am fucking loath to say it, but someone ought to, if only so that the idea can be analysed and reduced and dismissed, and naming no names, but some of these fucking MRA guys and their blogs, they are like the toll booth guy, if it wasn’t for their wife / girlfriend / judge / boys in blue giving them a kicking, NOTHING notable would ever have happened in their life…

Everything else is just a fucking repeat / re-run.

And I think this may be WHY there is in fact no such thing as an MRM, and those who got red pilled in the 80/70/60’s whenever see the MRM itself and nothing but a re-run, albeit with occasional interesting new bits of technology like the intertubez.

You can either let that cut on your leg heal and scar over, and forget about it apart from the rare occasions you notice it…. or you can sit there and pick at the fucker all day long and make sure it never heals.

I got a “friend”, more of a loose acquaintance really, so we get talking and it turns out they have a project bike, that has been going nowhere, no tools, no skills, no abilities, but they are willing to devote time and effort to the job, if only they knew how and where to start.

So hey, I have a “hobby” home workshop, every tool you can think of short of actual crank grinding / line boring, we can do this, I provide the expertise, my only rule is my workshop doesn’t become a dumping ground for your abandoned projects, or “your” project is going to end up in the skip and a big fuck you.

They are as keen as fuck and take notes and make plans, and much discussion and planning ensues.

And then I don’t hear from them for a week, then two, because when push comes to shove….. fact is if they got in touch now my response is that it was a limited time offer that has now closed, permanently…. that person will never get another first opportunity to make a bad impression on me.

I don’t care what, if anything, ever happens to their project, and I’m left the same way about 95% of the MRA sites out there, I don’t care what happens to their kids / fight against authoritah / whatever, not because of the project / cause in question, but because of THEM.

I have heard everything of interest that you will ever have to say.

When you decided to be dead men walking by not learning and growing and healing through your trials and tribulations, when you decided to defy reality (NAWALT), when you were offered the Red Shirt, and instead of telling them to stick the whole show you took it, because to you a bit part is better than no part, you became toll booth anecdote guy, and your 300 seconds are up.

“Game over man”

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