Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

December 6, 2013

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…


Pinky just got kicked to the kerb, FoffI was supposed to be going there to bone it tonight, but despite the lack of a hamster wheel there was no lack of the usual wimminz fare of say one thing, do another, and frankly my life is too short, no matter how good and kinky the sex was, so kerb time it is.

So… sitting here having just discussed it with a couple of the lads down the pub. Nothing of value was lost, because there was nothing of value there anyway, if there was, she would not have said one thing and done another… QED

So… further to a comment one of them made, it’s all about the feelings, and channelling Derek & Clive, you got to have fucking intuition mate, and channelling AfOR (because you almost certainly DO have fucking intuition mate), you got to fucking listen to it.

I had *that* feeling last night, that hard to describe feeling, that combination of being kept in the dark and fed on shit, and knowing something ain’t right, and wondering why you’re the last one at the party to get the joke.

Ask me to explain it, or justify it, or back it up… and I can’t, I can’t give you anything except I had that feeling, and knew it was significant, and recollected other times I had had that feeling.

It’s not a feeling that just applies to your dealings with wimminz…

This guy

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2518874/Father-receives-photo-XBox-One-duped-Ebay.html

He had that feeling, in his own words.. “It came in a brown envelope. When the postman gave it to me I kept asking him if he was sure this package was for me and he kept saying it was.”  he KNEW…

Like I said, justification, explanation, supporting evidence, I can’t give you any of that shit when I get that feeling, all I can tell you is I have that feeling, and that feeling has ALWAYS BEEN FUCKING RIGHT.

A guy asks you “do you think my wife is cheating on me?“.. he already knows the fucking answer, he has that feeling.

Thing is, Pinky that just got kicked to the kerb, she could no more adequately explain her actions and choices than I could explain the feeling, I do not mean I will never know what went on in her head, I mean even if I had a nanosecond by nanosecond replay of whatever did go on in her head, I would be none the wiser… observing the process in her head is as much use as observing the feeling in me.

None.

Every guy I have ever met who gets that feeling starts playing what if scenarios in their heads, looking for an answer or explanation or enlightenment, they will never get it, that urge to look for answers is the “dark side” of that feeling.

If I had listened to the dark side I’d have gone to her place as planned, and maybe been greeted by plod, maybe been greeted by darkness and locked doors, maybe been greeted by who knows what, the dark side of that feeling wants knowledge, explanations, answers, understanding.

With experience, you get like me..

As DMJ says in a current piece, I get that feeling, I go snake eyes, people do what they wanna do, if da bitch wanted me to know where I stood or what the fuck was going on, nothing would have stopped her from making sure I knew… NOTHING…

The very fact that I did not know is the feeling, is the reality, do not be attracted by the dark side Luke, come over here to the light side, go snake eyes with me, turn that car around, drive home, edit your contacts on the phone to move the skank from “current” to “skanks” + “blocked“, turn your back, walk away, she is literally dead to me.

There is no animosity, there is no hate, there is no desire, there is no wanting to know, there is nothing, there is only memory, fun while it lasted.

Past tense.

Move on, chilled, take the opportunity to do something you want, play Skyrim, go down the pub for a pint, walk the dog, anything, as long as you are snake eyes.

Snake eyes, stopped me going to her door, stopped a possible altercation, stopped possible po-lice involvement, stopped me continuing to feel that (unpleasant) feeling, stopped me giving a fuck, stopped me seeing her as anything except past tense.

No good EVER comes from ignoring snake eyes and going to the dark side and embracing that feeling, none, ever, not ever.

DMJ’s article was spot on, snake eyes != (is NOT equal to) Mr Nice Guy

Mr Nice Guy gets fucked over and loses, every time, BECAUSE he is trying to be Mr Nice Guy.

As I discussed elsewhere here, when I was arrested for my alleged FRA from the psycho skank ho ex, the initial reaction was to convince the po-lice that I could not have raped the bitch because I am a nice guy and rape is alien to me, the fact that I didn’t rape the bitch is irrelevant, I wanted the po-lice to SEE that I didn’t, and the only way to prove a negative is to try to make the other guy like you, and to do that you WILL lie…. you will, for example, deny any sex happened, and the DNA will prove you lied about that, and at that point you’re left with admitting you lied about the sex, but maintain you never raped anyone… good fucking luck with that.

Despite the fact that the FACTS are that early this week Pinky wants to spend the rest of her life with me, *some* fucking thing happened while I was 200 miles away, I dunno what and I never will, all I know is I had that feeling and next thing I know I am being blanked.

*IF* I had been dumb-ass Mr nice Guy enough to turn up at her door, and *IF* plod were there, there is no possible thing that I can say to them that will do me any good whatsoever.

Snake eyes, now the FACTS (verifiable by GPS and extensive digital records of texts etc etc etc) are that early this week I was there and everything was perfect, and I ain’t been within 50 miles of there since, and when whatever it was happened in the last 24 hours happened, I still did not go there, and I will never go there again, or attempt to contact her again.

Bottom line, I may well get “that feeling” again, but it won’t be Pinky behind it.

The last ship on that route already sailed.

If I get that feeling again, even if I get it 1,000 times, it will be 1,000 different causes / people, and in 1,000 cases snake eyes will kick in, and in 1,000 cases within 24 hours it will be ancient history… that is a scab I will ***NEVER*** pick at again as long as I live, I just discard it like a lizard losing its tail…. or a turd I send off to the coast with a flush.

December 18, 2012

AWALT v NAWALT


I often get a lot of emails and stuff, and recent posts seem to have suggested to certain sectors of my readership that I have an new and special wimminz in my life, and am about to renounce AWALT in favour of NAWALT.

I meet all kinds of wimminz, from the outrageous sluts / skanks / psychos through all the variations and hamster wheel rationalisations in a form of pyramid where the better the quality the wimminz, the rarer she is.

Yes, it is true to say that currently there is a wimminz in my sphere that is in many ways pretty fucking exceptional, exceptional enough for me to respect somewhat and care for somewhat.

For the purposes of this post we will call her “Jane”you-see-that-its-a-kitchen-now-get-back-in-it-sad-hill-news

Does this make her NAWALT?

Does it fuck…

It is not even this exceptionally good wimminz own personal qualities and attributes that determines whether or not she is a NAWALT, she is, sadly, an AWALT, because this is the only sane response, because in every way that matters she is the same as the depths of the slutty skanky psycho skank ho pool.

Fact is, as a human being, this particular wimminz is about as far removed from my FRA wielding psycho skank ho ex as you can get and still have tits and a cunt.

Fact is, in law, and therefore status with respect to me, this particular wimminz is absolutely identical in every way to my FRA wielding psycho skank ho ex.

The ONLY FUCKING THING THAT MATTERS is what it says on her birth certificate and mine in the bit where it lists the sex of the baby, if it says “female” then it trumps “male” in the law, every time, every area, no exceptions.

But wait, it gets worse.

The only changes I can make to the relative status of myself, and ANY wimminz, is to marry the bitch, and the only changes that makes are negative ones for me…

She gets power of attorney, ownership of all my shit (and you will know what that shit feels like when you come home one day and find your darling wife tried to sell your harley while you were away, and only your mate prevented it by being smart enough to claim he was owed 50% of the value of the bike in work and so had a prior lien) priority (over me) access to all my shit, and in return I get liability for all debts and mortgages and loans in her name, even if they were taken out by her before I ever met the bitch.

Speaking frankly, if there were ANY justice in the law, any man marrying a wimminz would be excluded for all of the above by way of insanity, but the law plays it the other way and deems the man insane and therefore the wimminz should be placed in charge of all of his shit, and his future earning and reproductive capacity, and his life and liberty.

It’s not the brand new showroom jaguar with delivery miles that will get ya, it’s the 200k mile clunker that is what you get when you split up, and she decides allegations of DV / FRA is an easy way to get custody. They ALL turn into 200,000 mile clunkers the instant you split.

However, there are three vital things you need to grasp;

  1. I can never change the bit on my birth certificate that says “male”
  2. I can never change the law.
  3. I can never escape from all interaction with wimminz.

I might as well complain about gravity of the orbit of the earth, tilting at windmills…

So what is left?

What is left is dealing with reality.

I treat “Jane” in exactly the same way I treat the skankiest pump and dump cumslut that I will voluntarily interact with for kinky sex, I still archive all my SMS messages with her to the cloud, I still archive all my emails with her to the cloud, I still archive my location (Smartphone with GPS and Google Latitude / Location history) to the cloud, and google calendar, to the cloud, I just turn all that shit up to 11.

I make sure everything is littered with exculpatory evidence should there ever be a future allegation of DV or more… see point #3 above, and stories of random men being selected by wimminz as their alleged rapist…. “jane” is my fucking alibi, both against any putative future allegations by her, and against any putative future allegations by any other wimminz.

Single men be “creepy”

“Jane” is camouflage.

The only thing that astonished me is that this shit is not so obvious to so many readers who felt compelled to either tell me that I was not a real MRA any more or trying to warn me about the pussy trap or falling for NAWALT.

My bro back in the day was smarter than that when the wife (now ex of course) turned up with the guy she had sold my harley to, zero advance warning and he knew the only fucker taking my bike away from where I left it was me, and if he just said no she would call the po-lice to get “her” property.

I was smarter than that when I knew I was going away for a bit, so didn’t leave my only valuable possession of my own at “home” in her “care”

I wasn’t dumber when I hooked up with the psycho skank ho ex (not the same as the harley incident ex) it is just that the technology wasn’t fucking around then.

Now it is.

 

 

 

December 14, 2012

I have been challenged…


… by a friend, to explain exactly what is going on with a current FWB

(I should explain, in the spirit of full disclosure, there is a reason for his question, this FWB has come a lot closer to my affections than the usual pump and dump material, for the purpose of this post we will call her “Julie”)

uuuh, it’s a wimminz, innit…” was my reply.

He laughed and said you don’t get off that easy, I want you to be charitable and play devils advocate and argue in her favour.

You mean blue pill?” I say

Nope, I mean red pill, but on an individual level, like you’re a cunt because the wimminz have taught you that is what they want and how to survive them, so do the same for her, on an individual level, who taught her to be what she is?” he says

As always happens, we soon drifted off topic, but I woke up this morning and found myself still thinking about it.

The fact is, it was a good question, and it is a good question because it is a hard question, and it is a hard question because to answer it honestly, I will be forced to examine some of my own armour and learned reactions to the wimminz….

Imagine if you will a man living alone out in he wilderness, and imagine a wild dog floating around the man’s camp, sniffing for scraps, there are a few possible scanarios;

Group 1

  1. Man shoots dog
  2. Man chases dog away
  3. Man stays in camp, dog stays outside camp 100 yards away
  4. Man entices dog into camp.
  5. Dog decides to walk into camp.
  6. Dog decides to attack man

From options 4 and 5 above some further options pop up;

Group 2

  1. Man attempts to domesticate dog and succeeds
  2. Man attempts to domesticate dog and fails
  3. Dog attempts to attach to man and succeeds
  4. Dog attempts to attach to man and fails

Group 1 option 1 is Jonathan Vass, as discussed yesterday, Group 1 option 6 is of course the FRA

Group 1 options 2 & 3 is the MGTOW theme…. I’m sure you can work out the rest.

Group 1 options 4 & 5 are the interesting ones though, because they involve contact between man and dog, and either option 4 or 5 can lead to any of the options in Group 2, and I’m sure you don’t need me to point out which is an analogy to what when it comes to men and wimminz…

But, if I am going to be truly honest with myself, which is where my friends question comes in, Group 2 option 3 is what we all seek, the dog bonding to us, always assuming it is a dog we like the look of in the first place… the love of a dog for his master.

The unquestioning love of a dog for his master.

To be fair, this is the kind of love men want to give wimminz, until they get the shit kicked out of them for their troubles, so we end up either cowed and tails between our legs niggerz or fuck it growl at everything and bite first chew later post wimminz men….

Which is my friends question, but it was sneaky, because it did not allow me to generalise all wimminz, but asked me instead to look closely at one individual dog, and judge that dog on its individual merits.

It’s doubly sneaky because it invokes the nostalgia and yearning for Group 2, Option 3, that thing we all seek, the companionship and love of a good dog.

It’s trebly sneaky because it makes me choose between actually coming up with a considered answer to his question, or simply chucking out a stock answer, AWALT, end of discussion.

It’s quadruply sneaky because it is not a challenge to AWALT, this individual wimminz is still AWALT, the question is, how did she come to be that way, and is it by choice, or was she as much a made thing as I am?

It makes me examine my own thought processes.

  • Notably, it is a man, and not a wimminz or a niggerz that poses such a question.
  • I realise that much of my though processes with wimminz involves a negative check-list or weighted score, quantity and quality of tramp stamp skank ho tats, check, she’s a skank ho.
  • I realise that much of the “slack” I give the more favoured long term FWB is simply no more than the absence of certain of these check-list items, wow, this bitch only has 84 of the 100 possible flaws, and only 6 of the 10 most serious red flags…
  • I realise that somewhere in my sub-concious, with this particular FWB, as well as a reasonably low score on the negative check-list, there are actually some things about her that I like and approve of…

So group 1 option 3 dog attempts to domesticate man, man looks at dog and grins, it’s a mangy cur of a mongrel bitch with plenty of bad habits and fleas, but… it makes the man grin.

The man’s friend sees this, and asks the man, why does this individual dog make you grin, it shares more in common with the other curs roaming around your camp than it has to set it apart from them… and what caused this individual dog to be the way it is.

It is a bloody good question.

It is a bloody good question because I cannot answer it without also answering the same question about myself, and not in a superficial way that I have, because I got accused of wanting to fuck my own kids up the ass by my psycho skank ho ex who also made an FRA against me for good measure… but in detail, what sort of man ignored the red flags with the psycho skank ho ex, and why, and how was HE made, and so on back in time….

All the way back to the pre-pubescent me who just knew various things, the sun rises in the east, water is wet, and one day you will grow up and fall in love and get married and have a family of your own and boys who will call you daddy.

I have been making a serious, possibly fatal in the longer term, mistake.

Take a 5 gallon pail of water and tip it out at the top of a slope, watch how it runs downhill, how obstacles and other things change the flow, you can never get the same effect twice, if you think so you ain’t looking close enough, that flow is life, my psycho skank ho ex is a large rock downhill of where I was tipped out into this world, and my serious and possibly fatal flaw was looking at where I am now, the pattern I have made so far, and assuming that that is pretty much it, this form has basically been determined.

I am the pinnacle of my evolution.

The flaw is that change only stops with death, so I must continue to flow downhill into the future and find new patterns and channels and obstacles, or I can die.

I did not HAVE to allow my psycho skank ho ex to do what she did, at the first touch of that obstacle in my life I could have rebounded and found another path, one that cut around her instead of one that washed over her.

I face the same choices in the future.

“Julie” the mongrel cur faces these same choices in the future, and the future starts now.

The man in the camp grins at “Julie” the mongrel cur, because she chose to do what 99% of the other mongrel curs who walked into camp did, but with variations.

The man’s friend asked the question, and the man is forced to conclude that some of those minor variations are that in this mongrel’s history are that it chose to rebound and find another path when it met certain obstacles…. unlike the man, who just assumed he was smart enough and tough enough to overcome… the cur yelped and ran away… who was smarter?

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

In 1988 I knew an alcoholic, nobody had any time for him, but he had respect for my father so I would talk to him and buy him the occasional beer.

He was an alky because he fucked up, married into a banking family, and blew it by drinking too much and becoming an asshole.

He said one thing to me that I have never forgotten, and the older I get, the smarter it seems.

When I was 20, I knew everything and my dad knew fuck all,
when I was 30, I knew a fair bit, and my dad wasn’t as stupid as I thought,
when I was 40, my dad knew a damn sight more than I thought he did.

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

“Julie” the mongrel who has wandered into my camp?

Well, I’m sitting here laughing to myself, remembering my dad pissing himself at a scene in a Pink Panther film.

Sellers / Clouseau is harassing an organ grinder outside a bank, of course he completely missed the fact that the bank is being robbed, as he fixates on the organ grinder, does he have a permit etc…

Sellers “Do you have a li-cence for ze minky (monkey)?

Organ grinder “Listen mate, I don’t take his money, and he doesn’t tell me what to play.

That’s kind of the deal with the man in his camp and the mongrel.

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