Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

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.

 

October 19, 2013

Diminishing returns

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I want to digress slightly, something related.

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

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

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

The only thing keeping me honest is me.

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

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

I’m easy and reliable and trustworthy and predictable.

Micromanage me and my ass is dust.

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

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

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

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

I’m the same with wimminz.

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

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

 

October 12, 2013

Just how honest would you like me to be?

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 2:54 pm

With you, with myself?

How honest will you be, with me, with yourself?

There are plenty of things I won’t share, or talk about, and no, that isn’t code for being sodomised as a 7 year old or any of that shit, it’s just that there are some things that a me-centric enough that they are nobody else’s business.

But, while avoiding talking about specific things, some times we can talk about the paths we found ourselves on due to these specific things.

The feeling you get when you look at your family tree and actually realise for the first time you are a dead end, literally. And too old to meet and fall in love and marry and all that shit… so you are a dead end, literally.

The feeling a whole decade plus later, long after you have made your peace with the fact you are a dead end, when a wimminz deliberately and without consulting you or your wishes, gets pregnant by you, goes to term and delivers a healthy baby boy.

I suppose I could sit here and give y’all the proud and happy dad bullshit, but no, that ain’t true, it was duty and no more.

It is not the greatest day of your life, or the happiest, or any other fluffy shit.

Unlike the quiet day a decade before when you had had time to think and contemplate that you were a dead end, and be saddened by it, the day your son (commiserations if the womb turd is a mini slut) is born there is just too much shit going on for you to come to any honest answers.

I’m sorry, was I supposed to be a nice guy, a genuine solid man of integrity who was just used and abused and hurt by wimminz?8124529600_b3d6a8a504_z

I am the sum of my experiences, both at the hands of others and my own, if I am to take any credit for anything it is that I am not some crazed vengeful serial killer.

I am not a nice man, but I am a truthful man, and a fair man, and a stands by his word man, and don’t do unto what I don’t want done unto back, even when it is.

Said to a wimminz last week, one of the few who is honest enough herself to be able to have conversation with her, that in reality raising kids is like raising a dog, it’s not hard, it’s not rewarding, it’s duty, and your kids, however much you may love em, they are not companions, they are sovereign territories of their own.

She just stared at me in silence for several seconds, before casting her eyes down in shame and admitting what we all know, what I said was truth, that level of honesty with oneself is unsettling and disturbing in the privacy of your own mind, scary when it is stated openly.

When I was younger I wondered, and secretly worried, that I might one day be a paedophile, if I didn’t watch myself, you see I had these urges, and you can’t discuss that shit…. and then one day I met someone who I later found out worked with such kids and their abusers, very eminent, very respected, and so one day we had a discussion on the subject… turns out she knew before I did I wasn’t one, if she suspected I could have been we would never have gotten close, turns out that those feelings of awareness of the sexuality of some of the more physically mature 14 and 15 year old girls were just natural biological functions, and I learned new words like hebephile and ephebefile, and that I was neither of those either, being aware of sexual maturity isn’t the same as wanting to fuck… wanting to fuck was conditioned out of me by my family and society and the way I was raised.

Once I learned that I was none of these things because I was none of these things, not that I was none of these things because so far I had resisted urges and impulses, all the shame was lifted.

I had nothing to be ashamed about, looking at the St Trinians‘s girls (pic above) and thinking phwoar as a young man did not make me a paedo, it made me normal… I was not “in temptation” by mere proximity, there was no thin end of a wedge, there was no desensitisation, there was no hidden psychopathy, and then I in turn started talking to others, and found that they had had exactly the same “awareness” of sexual maturity, and the exact same thoughts of secret shame, because they went though the exact same mental processes of being scared to examine it, just in case they were sick in the head.

And suddenly all the shaming language used in society was water off a duck’s back, I knew it wasn’t me.

Sure, I knew I still had to watch my ass, not just do nothing wrong, but don’t get yourself in a situation where things could go wrong, but suddenly….

I was no longer participating in my own shaming and control and self loathing.

I didn’t come out the other side of it a saint, honesty to oneself is not a pleasant experience, but the people most horrified by my ‘gazing into the mirror’ honesty are those who set themselves up as custodians to society, and unease and awkwardness YOU felt reading the above disclosures is magnified a thousandfold by what those who set themselves up as custodians feel.

In my secret family court case the judge, lawyers, social workers, court shrinks and assorted hangers on quite plainly looked at me with absolute hate and loathing, not because of the various things I was maliciously and falsely accused of by my psycho skank ho ex, but because I stood up and looked them all in the eye and had zero internal doubts, I was no longer able to participate in the attempted shaming of me, and I could not be manipulated into making any kind of concessions or admissions or twists of language or allowances.

I was powerless, but I was a fucking rock, unmoved, unaffected, unable to participate in the circus and play my appointed role.

I didn’t *have* to be honest with anyone else, but I *had* to be honest with myself when looking in the mirror, I had to turn over rocks, pull out all the worms, give them a post mortem, and then examine everything for consistency, all the while fighting the urge to just turn my back on it all and ignore it all and pretend none of it is true.

I am 100% responsible for putting myself in a situation where the psycho skank ho ex could make false allegations of DV and FRA etc against me.

I enabled her to do this, I gave her the opportunity.

I kept doing it, even when I had several opportunities to bail, and I am not talking opportunities to walk away, anyone can do that any time, if they are prepared to pay the price.

I am talking opportunities to bail where I deliberately put myself back in the target zone.

She is 100% responsible for making malicious false accusations.

I am 100% responsible for putting myself in a place where she could, and then staying there.

The difference between then and now is now I have faced that internal mirror some more, and turned over far more rocks… not them all, but far more.

Some of those rocks include;

  • Being scared of being “alone”
  • Being scared of being a dead end genetically
  • Wanting to see myself as a knight in shining armour
  • Not wanting to accept that my initial impressions of someone were mistaken, there was no good, hidden deep with them, that would come out if only they were given a chance.

Yeah, it was the last couple that really did it for me.

Wanting to be perceived by others in a certain way is a folly.

Wanting to be perceived by yourself in a certain way is the greatest folly.

In a strange way, I am grateful to the psycho skank ho ex, if she wasn’t so psycho I would still be trapped in a prison of my own making. I know it is an anathema to say such things, like those who are grateful to shit that nearly killed them for giving them a whole new perspective and lease on life.

Finding and analysing and eliminating these rocks was key to ridding myself of the poison of anger and hate and loathing that dwelled within me, and I could see that same anger and hate and loathing in the judge, lawyers, etc etc

Don’t make a career out of keeping these rocks alive, Tamagotchi style…

In ages past they would have been called inner demons, and keeping them alive would be demonic possession, and of course da wimminz, well, that was where the word hysteria and hysterical comes from innit….

Guys often ask me why I still associate with da wimminz, and fuck them, why don’t I ghost.

Yay, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, not because I am the meanest motherfucker in the entire valley, but because I am that valley, and I am done fearing me.

I never did fear others, it was always me that scared me, not what I was, but what I was capable of.

No longer, I have met the enemy, and he is me.

We have come to know each other, and come to a truce of sorts, not all of the rocks have been examined, but at least there are none left in our shoes or in our eyes.

How honest do you want me to be, I am a deeply flawed human being, but there is no malice in me, and I am content to get by trying to do unto others as I would have them do unto me, and avoiding them if they aren’t happy with that.

How honest do you want me to be, that son that was taken away from me and his paternal family, I’ll do something as / when / if enough factors change so that I can actually do something, until then I’m not going to beat myself up, or allow anyone else to beat me up, about being a deadbeat dad.

Don’t let this be you.

The old man’s sitting there, his head bowed down
Every now and then he’ll take a look around
And his eyes reflect the memory-pain of years gone by
He can’t regain nostalgic dreams he’ll never see again

With trembling hands, he wipes a tear
Many fall like rain, there’s one for every year
And his life laid out so clearly now, life that’s brought death
So nearly now life once he clung to dearly lets go

But spare a thought as you pass him by
Take a closer look and you’ll say
He’s our tomorrow, just as much as we are his yesterday

A lonely grave, and soon forgot
Only wind and leaves lament his mournful song
Yet they shout his epitaph out clear
For anyone who’s passing near
It names the person lying here as you
And you…and you…and you…

 

September 28, 2013

When you buy a new Mercedes..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she will say “I dunno”

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

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

WTF?

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

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

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

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

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

People do what they are gonna do, wimminz particularly.

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

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

I want to tell you two small true stories.

wimminz #1

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

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

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

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

wimminz #2

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

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

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

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

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

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

She dissembles.

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

I decline to go over and fuck her.

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

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

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

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

I devote zero CPU time to em, except;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

September 15, 2013

Dummies guide to what wimminz want.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:06 pm

The Dummies guides are reasonably good, if I read one dealing with a subject that I know something about in some depth, I find that they glide over everything and give a simplistic explanation and instruction that will usually achieve the desired result, but never educate the user as to why or how or what is going on under the bonnet as it were….

So think of this as the dummies guide to what wimminz want…

First thing you have to understand is wimminz never know what they want, that is not how they operate, they do however know what they DON’T want, and that is how they operate.

No keyboard detected. Press F1 to continue.

Those of you with any electronics knowledge will know the difference between an NPN transistor and a PNP transistor, and those of you with boolean logic knowledge will know about OR and NOR, and so on… none of them are very good examples, because they are all consistent and logical, whereas wimminz functioning when taken alone is an exercise in darwinism.sickdump-thumbs-picdump-133-40

However, when you look at wimminz functioning in the natural evolutionary environment, which is the wild card input into men’s functioning, then it all starts to make sense.

Nevertheless, we are here today to talk about the wimminz side of the equation, and as we have seen, wimminz are real good at knowing not so much what they do not want, but when they do not want that particular thing…. they might well have been clamouring to get that thing, and they may well have been content to have that thing, but this is all just the DON’T WANT at work, they did not want that thing, rather they did not want to not have that thing…..

These are transient states.

But only once they have had and sampled that thing, rather like a baby who has screamed and fought for a slice of lemon, only then can the wimminz logic actually make a real decision, and IF that decision is made, or WHEN it is made, the wimminz decision mechanism only allows one decision to be made, and that decision is NOT WANT, and at that time that particular logic circuit for that particular thing lets out the magic smoke and becomes permanently fixed.

Once a wimminz decides that she has had enough of your skinny ass in her bad, that is it, game over, forever.

Of course, if you win the lottery she will let you back into her bed, but, to her that decision to NOT WANT you any more is still there, that neural pathway is fused in for life.

But, to a wimminz, “Bubba the ex” is “item 485,874”, and Bubba the ex and his lottery winnings is “item 486,735”, a completely new and separate thing, not item 485,874 + $5,000,000 in cash, but a completely separate thing.

However, once she realises that either the cash is gone, or she ain’t gonna get any of it no-how, then like a magic trick there is a puff of smoke and item 486,735 turns instantly into item 485,874.

If Item 485,874 is a really unlucky bastard, item 486,735 will not turn into item 485,874, but into item 487,658, and item 487,658 committed rape and DV against her, so all she has to do is call in da po-lice and collect all that lovely money, and at THAT point, when she gets her hands on the fucking money, item 487,658 turns into item 485,874.

You see where this is going…..

The most popular, painful, excruciating and exciting game shows for all wimminz everywhere are those that include the formula where there are a series of things, A, B, C, D etc

As the wimminz contestant works her way through the game she wins item B and throws away item A,  then at the next correct play she wins item C and throws away item B, and so on, rinse and repeat.

If you want the bitches to wet their panties and freak with excitement as the hamster wheel does 14 squillion RPM, makes items A through M boxes that hold unknown prizes, each prize being an ever larger wad of cash, but randomly in there are three unknown boxes containing one red cent and a note saying “fuck off, loser”

To the wimminz this is working their way down a line of men, sampling each one that does not earn an instant DON’T WANT before it goes anywhere, until each guy does or fails to do something, and she wakes up and it’s DON’T WANT, on to the next.

And then one day they realise that the last 365 days have all been DON’T WANT, and guess what, they DON’T WANT that either, but being wired only for DON’T WANT, there is no way to fix this dilemma and accept the next half decent guy that comes along, some will try this strategy, but as soon as they have a man the DON’T WANT to not have a man is gone, so it is only a short time before they DON’T WANT that man.

Of course, we know where 100% of the fault, blame and responsibility for this situation lies, but since wimminz DON’T WANT to feel bad about themselves, well, it’s the fucking men’s fault innit.

If you want a wimminz to think “he is fucking dead to me”, all you as a man have to do is tell her to her face “I DON’T WANT YOU”, and that’s it, you are dead to her. Because she cannot conceive of a world in which DON’T WANT is anything other than a permanent state.

However, she *may* like item 485,874 above, decide to “change” herself, and then mebbe you’ll want her, so gastric band, liposuction, tit job, bingo.

One of the things wimminz DON’T WANT is being told CAN’T HAVE, and that is the basis for so called alpha male pulling power.

But, it isn’t kryptonite, because not all DON’T WANT’s are equal, as we have seen above, and as they get older, the DON’T WANT to end up alone and smelling of piss and cats starts to get REAL strong.

This starts ramping up big time in their thirties, and by the time they are in their fifties it is mainlining meth and PCP through their skulls 24/7.

I have had a couple of wimminz my age, just turned the corner into the half century, though their dating/swinging/fucking profiles claimed 41…lol… who would do ANYTHING I wanted sexually, and buy me beer, and so on and so forth, in an effot to trap me into a relationshit, starting by trying to get me to say I loved them, or trying to get me to give them an orgasm or lick their cunts… and then one day the penny drops, they realise they are NEVER gonna trap you, so not only are you an instant DON’T WANT, you are also an evil nasty mother-fucker who wasted three months of their lives, and when you are a 41 year old H^H^H^H^ 51 year old post wall wimminz, that feels like taking 20 bucks from a guy with 110 to his name, not only did you take a large chunk of what he had, what he has is now measures in two figures, not three, double plus ungood…lol

They DON’T WANT me so much it hurts.

And so dear readers, to conclude this brief introduction and dummies guide into what wimminz want, all you need to know is that there are two states to a wimminz logic.

  1. Schroedinger’s cat, almost, in that you simply do not know until you open the logic box if that cat is alive or dead.
  2. DON’T WANT, if the cat dies the box opens automatically, if you force the box open the cat dies automatically.

She will either be DON’T WANT, or DON’T KNOW, there are no other logic states, and don’t know is transient, while don’t want is permanent.

 

I’ll buy that for a dollar….

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 5:12 pm

Of course it’s the line from Robocop, I fucking dread to think what the reboot will be like, the old movies were very tongue in cheek and slightly anarchic, having seen the trailer for the new one, it seems to be little more than an cgi explosion orgasm, with no doubt a few strong leading wimminz thrown in.

The point is though, the bald guy with glasses with a skank ho on each arm uttering that line in the film, yup, at 50c each they were “worth it”.

Winter is coming and I just bought another quartz electric fire for the kitchen in the mornings, I put in on for 30/45 minutes when I get up and before I go to work,  I buy one every year because without fail at least one of the bars dies every year, and at around 20 bucks a pop they are essentially a disposable item, not something you would ever trust to leave on and walk away.

At 20 bucks a pop, they are “worth it”, same as the two skanks above, not because it is great value for money, but because it is cheap enough there is no hesitation or pain involved when it comes time to throw it in the trash.

Basically, there are three ways to meet wimminz;

  1. Directly in real life
  2. Virtually on-line
  3. Via the agency or actions of others

and each of those can be subdivided;

  1. Directly in real life
    1. Socially at a pub
    2. At work
    3. Randomly when shopping etc
  2. Virtually on-line
    1. pay per sites
    2. free sites
  3. Via the agency or actions of others
    1. set up dates by matchmaking friends
    2. invitations to events such as weddings

I have colour coded these, red text is never ever fucking do it, it always has the potential to cost you a LOT of money, purple is danger will robinson, your judgement is affected and you are spending money, green is I’ll buy that for a dollar.

Which brings us to several important points.

  • If you are looking for something, you may as well set your stall out and state exactly what you are looking for, and exactly what you offer in exchange.
  • If you treat making a sale, any sale, as a greater priority than making the exact sale you want, then, by definition, you are not going to be happy with the sale, so, by definition, you are deliberately setting yourself up for disappointment and dissatisfaction.
  • If you allow others to “haggle” you to a difference price, then you are in the same boat as above.
  • If you are quite content to sit there every day reading a book, and not making any sales or getting any kind of interest, you are golden.

Which brings us back to the various methods by which you can meet wimminz, the red text methods are all ways in which you are guaranteed to NOT be able to just set out your stall and sit back and chill.

The red text methods are all market trader methods, doing whatever it takes to make a sale.

Red Pill is a LIFESTYLE choice mother-fucker, if you are allowing mates to set you up on blind dates, if you are allowing wimminz at work to flirt with you, if you are paying agencies such as websites to get you in contact with wimminz, then you are not red pill, you are a blue pill niggerz.

Time to fucking man up bitch.

Stop investing ANYTHING of yourself or your time or your emotions or your money, over a dollar, on wimminz.

The purple text, well, it depends where you go, the pub I go to, when I go to a pub which isn’t that often any more (I used to practically live in the bastards, there at opening time and still there at chucking out, 7 days a week) is a red pill pub, chances are there will be not much more than a dozen guys there, all mature, all doing their own thing, no fucking wimminz, not even behind the bar. Red Pill.

If I went across the road to the student pub, which is heaving, it would be Blue Pill. Because I am making a conscious choice to occupy the same room as a bunch of skank ho entitlement pwincesses.

———————————————————–

Sure, lots of the “buy that for a dollar” wimminz I talk to flake and fade away, and what have I lost? So I don’t get a fuck I was never going to get, or I do get a fuck with crazy, there is no mileage whatsoever in thinking maybe if I message her, if the bitch was into you she will message you, if she does not message you she is not into you, and you messaging her ain’t gonna change that.

What it WILL fucking change is you, it makes you a market trader, desperate for a sale, a pussy begging mangina niggerz mother-fucker…. because you just invested more than that thing was ever worth, and not a guaranteed buy and get, but to con yourself you are still in the game.

Back in the 70’s I knew a couple of guys who used to travel around all the pubs and hotels doing auctions, they would promo it for 24 hours prior, do the auction, and literally skit to the next town and start the 24 hour promo.

They sold pens, they used to buy them for 50 pence and sell then for 4 pounds and 50 pence, a 900% markup making 4 quid profit.

If you went to their auctions, you would never ever know or realise they were selling pens, because they had a bunch of quite good stuff, surplus stock, all going cheap, cheap because it was surplus and not much markup, and it consisted of anything they could get. So you get ghetto blasters and stuff brand new for 49 quid instead of 110 and shit like that…

You get 100 people at a pub auction, and maybe 20 high value items going cheap, you’ll sell maybe 10 or 12 of them.

The stick was, the auction starter, he would go into the sales spiel, describe some of the high value items coming up, all genuinely quite tempting stuff, and then he would hit them with it, so I know you are all genuine buyer I am offering these fine quality metal cartridge ball point pens each one worth 9.99 at just 4.50 a pop, and only those who can bid by waving  one of these pens at me can bid on these other luxury items and fantastic prices.

He’d sell 50 pens in the next 5 minutes…

He’d sell more pens in a day than a large stationers would sell in a week.

Bait and switch.

He’d never say he sold pens, or a bait and switch low ball cognitive dissonance merchant, he’d say he was an entrepreneur pulling in over a grand a week.

Same way blue bill mangina niggerz will never admit to being such a thing, they will tell you how many bitches they have on the go, and bear in mind, the pen guy was one of the few smart enough and hard working enough to actually pull it off.

Sure, he made a lot more than a dollar, but he invested a lot more than a dollar, way too much to walk away from with the casual disregard you will walk away from a half full dollar cup of coffee, and not give a second thought ever again to the half a cup of coffee left, or the 50c it cost you.

So the thing to do is avoid, completely, like the plague, all those things in red text, just don’t turn up for it, enforce it with your total absence from the game.

And the green text stuff, if it involves anything of any value from you, don’t do it.

How the fuck can you sit home alone in your man cave you fucking techno hermit, is the response, because the blue pill says alone = lonely and saddo, and the blue pill says you have to go out and meet wimminz to get any cunt, and the blue pill says a lot of other shit.

And it is like the punters at the pen sellers auction, they all think they are being smart and clever and are watching out for all the expected tricks on the high value items coming up, and none of them notices that every single one of them just got taken.

Shop like a man, whether it is groceries or cunt, go in with a list stating exactly what you want, look at and for nothing else, put that and nothing else in the trolley, and accept no substitutions or BOGOF deals of any kind, pay up, GTFO.

I go to one wal mart sized outlet near me, I buy the packs of 24 bog rolls if the price is right, and I buy the 1 Kg instant coffee tubs if the price is right, and I buy the proper coffee packets if the price is right, so sometimes I’ll buy one of those things, or two, or all three… sometimes I’ll walk out empty, and I never buy anything else…. I don’t go there very often, I don’t have to, I am a single man and I have 2 x 24 sealed packs of bog rolls stashed in the bathroom… cos they were a deal at 50c a roll.

I’ll buy that for a dollar.

September 14, 2013

Safe sex

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:50 am

This is a thing you’ll see used almost universally on profiles and discussions on swinging / fucking sites, what they are actually talking about is the guy wearing a condom while fucking the wimminz in the cunt or ass.

Blowjobs are not included, so of course there is wilful and deliberate ignorance (that gets very irate and very angry very fast if you dare to challenge it) about the relative risks of STD transmission via oral sex vs vaginal and anal sex.

Red pill alert.

What you are about to read is raw red pill, this may expose you to the fact that you have been blue pill thinking this, all the while thinking you were red pill all the way.

  1. If you actually study the subject, you’ll find that the term STD in its broadest sense can cover all sorts of things from the truly serious such as HIV all the way down to “I have an itch”, and in some case is even expanded to cover things that are not diseases, such as pubic lice.
  2. If you actually study the subject, two things leap out at you,
    1. Condoms, when treated as a preventative of STD transmission, have varying efficiencies depending on the disease in question, with rates ranging for a 60% reduction in risk up to a 99% reduction in risk, but, same as for pregnancy, condoms are not 100% effective
    2. In the cases of *some* STDs, condoms can actually *increase* the risk of transmission, vs bareback.
  3. Now, one of the things people really do not want to discuss is the *huge* disparity between transmission risk, depending on *direction*

Let’s take #3 first, on one side we have the “receptacle” which is what it says it is, INTERNAL flesh, be it mouth ass or cunt, on the other side we have the cock.

Transmission from receptacle to cock is much much much harder than transmission from cock to receptacle.

If you are a hetero guy (holds up hand) who *never* eats or licks cunt (holds up hand) you are way ahead of the game, because you have zero receptacles.

If you eat cunt you have one receptacle.

If you are a bi/gay guy you have two receptacles.

If you are a wimminz you have three receptacles.

Just as not all diseases are equal, not all receptacles are equal, some diseases prefer oral as an infection path, some prefer vaginal or anal.

And of course not all cunts or mouths are equal, different brands of soap, different diet, all kinds of things come in to play, so it is the same as not everyone in the office getting the cold bug that goes around.

So, the first part of this red pill on safe sex is that wimminz be most at risk of catching something, and guys like me be least at risk, and the risk *gap* between those two cases is fucking huge.

You simple CANNOT take transmission risks from cock to receptacle, and from receptacle to cock, and lump them all together in one big pile. It is dishonest.

I want to take a moment to talk about risk, if wearing a condom is “safe sex”, then you can simply pop one on, and fuck some skank with HIV, no problem, you’re protected…. right? no?

No, lets say condoms are 90% proof against HIV

Lets say as a man with HIV, fucking a wimminz who is “clean” gives you a 1 in 20 chance of infection, e.g. on average if you fuck her 20 times you can statistically / probability wise almost guarantee infection, fuck her 10 times is a 50/50 risk, fuck her once its a 1 in 20 (but, that first shot could also be on target..)

Add a prophylactic, with 90% reduction in risk, which is 9 outta 10

If it was 1 in 20 before, it’s now 1 in 200, so fuck her 200 times you can statistically / probability wise almost guarantee infection, but, that first shot might also do the job, depending on your luck.

In other words, when play with risks it is just a question of iteration, if you keep playing long enough you roll a six, add a bother dice and keep playing long enough and you’ll roll a double six, add another dice and keep playing long enough and you’ll roll a treble six.

This then is not “safe” anything, sure, it is safe-er, but that ain’t how it is marketed.

Russian roulette with a revolver with 1,000 chambers and 1 bullet is not safe Russian roulette, it is just safe-er than playing with a six gun, keep playing and you die, 100% guaranteed.

Nothing that is 100% guaranteed depending on the number of iterations is “safe”.

Less people die per air-plane mile than per auto-mobile mile, so it is safe-er, but, the flip-side is there are no fender benders that everyone walks away from completely uninjured when a plane crashes.

So to reiterate the first part of this red pill, while using condoms can REDUCE risk, it doesn’t eliminate it, and in any event it is a tiny bit like pregnancy in the sense that it is mainly a wimminz problem, and the more you fuck the more likely you’ll hit the jackpot.

The second part of this red pill is human nature, people driving clunkers with dodgy brakes drive a lot more carefully than that same person in a car with airbags / ABS / ESS / etc, it’s a known fact, we all have a safety comfort zone, this is too unsafe and dangerous, this is too safe and boring, this is just right, so if you alter things and give them a safer car, they drive more aggressively to get back into that comfort zone.

Hand anyone a bunch of condoms and talk about safe sex, and they will go out and fuck people that they would not fuck bareback.

Disagree with me all you like, I’m a 50+ year old man who has seen and done it all, and that is all I have ever seen. Take it as Gospel.

The third part of this red pill is symbolism, totems, and bullshit.

I’m gonna talk about the swinging community, and again as a 50+ year old man who has seen and done it all, let me tell you the difference between the swinging community and everyone else.

Swingers admit they fuck around.

Bit like the old joke about there being two types of men, those who admit to having a wank, and liars.

Swingers admit they fuck around, and often the condom, or lack of it, is used to make a distinction without a difference, a line in the sand, a way of differentiating one person they are fucking from the others, that’s it, a psychobabble prop.

To use the russian roulette analogy, this is like being presented with a selection of revolvers, the safe sex swingers / fuckbuddies which are 1,000 chamber jobs, and your regular partner / husband / wife, which is a six chamber job… and playing with all those revolvers.

To reiterate the first part of this red pill, being a hetero male who doesn’t eat cunt, ever, or kiss, ever, I am already a 10,000 chamber revolver.

And so we come to the last part of this red pill.

And while the blue pills in all of you can intellectually see all the sense in what I have said up until now, this is the bit of the red pill that is like the grainy sour grit in the bottom of a cup of medicine, the hardest to swallow, but, the bit with all the goodness…  that first bit of the cup was just a prophylactic…lol

And here we go.

As a 50+ year old male (YMMV is you are 40’s, 30’s, 20’s, but not as much as you may think, not so much it puts you on a par with the wimminz) we have to examine what happens when the hammer does not drop on an empty chamber, but a full one.

I personally know some people who are HIV+, one I first met in 1993, she doesn’t know when or where or how she caught it, to look at her today you would never know, she looks and acts fine. I met her via I guy I know and knew, he met her, she disclosed she had HIV, me and everyone else told him to run the fuck away, he didn’t, they are still together 20 years later, for the first few years they were careful, protected sex only, then one night drunk he thought fuck it, then it happened again, then he thought fuck it and stopped bothering, still got tested every six months.

Eventually, after 12 years of fucking her bareback, he caught it, again you wouldn’t fucking know, it basically doesn’t affect his life as much as people I know with diabetes or people I who who are allergic to wasp stings.

Basically, for the man, if you get something that looks or feels nasty and painful, you go to the doctor and you can take some shit and the *symptoms* disappear.

Sure, the infection is still there, but the symptoms aren’t

It is a known fact, due to regular blood screening in hospitals, coupled with bizzarro rules about disclosure and privacy and so on, that a minimum of 250,000 people in England have Hep-C, with a population of 53 million that is one in 200

it is also a known fact that there were only 7,000 *reported* cases last year, the symptoms are indistinguishable from over indulgence in alcohol, which so many do nowadays.

That factual statistic, 250,000 known infections, v 7,000 reported cases last year, is a useful guesstimate for all other STD’s, only 1 in 35 is reported, because only 1 in 35 generated enough symptoms in the patient that they went to a doctor to get whatever it was seen to.

That and the other fact, and it ain’t patriarchy or misandry, just biology, that basically this shit just doesn’t affect men that much, but it really does affect wimminz, and more often that not that effect is manifested in their fertility, or lack of, or their menstrual cycle, and the discomfort of, or in the smell from their cunt, and the embarrassment of…

———————————————————————–

Now and again I counsel young men, I tell them the following;

  1. Risk is something you take, and you own, if you take a risk and it comes up snake eyes you have to own the consequences.
  2. If you want kids, well, STD’s can affect sperm production and quality, but the real deal is whether the mother has any.
  3. Going to a clinic regularly and using prophylactics does not make you safe, and if it comes up snake eyes, and then you infect someone, you are doing it knowingly, and that is a criminal offence, and being a man, you will get charged.
  4. A condom does not make someone fuckable, the way to reduce risk is to be discerning, wash your cock and balls immediately before and after fucking, and hydrate, so you can piss immediately after fucking and before washing.
  5. Do not eat or lick cunt
  6. Do not suck cock or take it up the ass.
  7. Lots of things and spots and minor damage can naturally occur to your cock, it doesn’t mean you have VD, you can damage it on wimminz cunt stubble for example, but until it heals, stay away from cunt…
  8. EVERYONE fucks bareback, just because they and you do not do it together, does not mean they or you are safe.
  9. If you don’t want kids, or are living alone, and you have no symptoms, it’s not your problem. Obviously it is FAR better to not have any health issues, but the same thing applies to smoking and drinking and eating well,we still do them.
  10. Just because something is communicable does not suddenly make it exclusively your problem, see point #1, you are responsible for YOUR health, own it, and expect everyone else to do the same.
  11. Unless you are a really unlucky sonofabitch, you could be a walking STD petri dish and not even know it, so why is it a problem, just because the infection is SEXUALLY transmitted, as opposed to something you get off a toilet seat or a dirty cup or food or by breathing?
  12. Buy a dictionary and read the definition of the word asymptomatic.

The red pill, STD’s are a wimminz issue, just like cunt cancers and tit cancers and all the rest, not my fucking problem, and won’t be until every hospital has a specialist MEN’S HEALTH department to go along with the fucking specialist wimminz health department.

Prophylactics are just wimminz way of countering the increased risk of the contraceptive pill, which allows all wimminz, not just the village bike and whore, to have a large cock count.

I make a point on swingers sites of saying my policy is bareback or fuck off, I’m just picky about who I fuck, I have to tell you two facts.

  1. I have yet to fuck a wimminz who did not have some variation of “no glove, no love” on their profile/advert.
  2. I have yet to have any of these wimminz even mention condoms when we fuck, bareback. No glove, but my cock went in all three receptacles, because that is another of the points I make on my advert, access all areas or fuck off.

To sum up, all sex involves some risk, my attitude is you use your brain to mitigate that risk, not a condom, which is just a way of deceiving yourself, and if you are a hetero male who doesn’t eat cunt or kiss, and who is hygienic and picky, you’re still at risk, but you are waaaay ahead of the crowd.

If you are a young wimminz, then your risk factors are astronomical, and a lifetime cock count of three is pushing your luck.

In closing, if you are  young wimminz, one of the biggest problems you dramatically raise the risk of with a high cock count is cunt cancer, no fucker but me will tell you this, but give yourself another 40 years and you will see the empirical truths for yourself….  every wimminz I know with cunt cancer or even just a cunt cancer scare that was caught early and had medical intervention, had a cock count in three digits.

I shit you not.

September 5, 2013

Politicians, managers, wimminz…

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 10:48 am

They all appear to have one thing in common.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are they paranoid?

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

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

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

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

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

September 4, 2013

Dating is a job interview.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 4:51 pm

Bear with me…

Take a look at the picture, imagine it is not a mirror image of the same girl, but two views of the same girl, your view, and my view.

You see a beautiful young wimminz, I see a filthy lying whore.Image10101

What’s the difference?

I have some data about her that you do not.

e.g. your opinion is based upon nothing more than a LACK OF DATA.

This is the basis of AWALT, all wimminz are filthy lying whores, no exceptions.

Now let’s say this wimminz is actually known to you personally, but not known to me personally, so you have some known data about her, specifically, and I have none, specifically.

Make any difference?

No, because YOUR opinion is still based upon a lack of data, whereas mine is based upon the fact that I have only ever found scorpions that have stung, and scorpions that have not yet stung, I have never yet seen a peacenik scorpion that I will let sit on my cock.

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

So here you go, you are a wimminz and you meet me, your first and major fuck up is that you do not view that process as an interview for a job, a job with one vacancy.

  • You think you can go trawling around a bunch of other potential employers, and I am going to sit here with the patience of a saint, just in case one day you might want to take the job.
  • When I say take the job, I mean of course turn up 10 minutes before quiting time, do your nails, fuck around on your iphone, and then demand to know where your fucking holiday pay is.
  • As / when / if you get an interview, eg meet me, which will only happen if you treat making an early appointment and turning up on time, eg as someone keen to get the fucking job, hearing that you had 497 other jobs that you quit on the day you got them, you know, because the boss was a fucking asshole, doesn’t really endear me to the idea of taking a chance on you and hiring you.
  • One previous long term employer that you parted with on good terms is the thing to aim for.
  • Like any other job, turning up with your womb turds doesn’t make you a candidate for employee of the month, while there is the danger of maternity leave for the single wimminz, in your case it is guaran-fucking-teed that there are going to be constant days off and early quits because junior has some lego lodged in his ass, plus, there is the danger of future maternity leave too.
  • Turning up with an unknown and un-checkable history doesn’t do you any favours either, I’ve been trying to fill this vacancy for 30 fucking years, and I have heard every variation of every story at least fifty times, you are not a precious snowflake and I don’t buy your bullshit excuses.
  • Expecting to get instant holiday pay, company expense account, directors car parking spot, and company medical and a promotion to CEO within 4 weeks doesn’t fly either, the job being advertised is cock and bottle washer and sammich maker, with the potential for advancement through the ranks, by becoming an invaluable employee.
  • Expecting, at the end of the interview, to be able to sign a cast iron contract guaranteeing you everything, but asking nothing from you, with no possible sacking offences, that I can’t get out of, isn’t going to make me think you are the next Tesla and everything you touch will turn to gold.
  • Having previous jobs as bukkake and felching queen and general 2 dollar whore and miss gangbang 2009 is likely to adversely affect your employability in a role that ultimately reflects upon the company and myself, ditto skank ho tats and piercings.

But, it is not all bad news…

  • You *can* take the cards on the table, ex con looking for a fresh start, willing and eager for an opportunity to shovel shit, approach.
  • The above approach doesn’t mean I see you as less, see the pictures above, you merely confirmed that data that I knew was there anyway, but, the reason you get the look in is you chose to not to try to bullshit me.
  • This approach better not end the instant the interview does and I offer you a period of trial employment, as many wimminz have found, the instant the no bullshit approach ends, so does the fucking job.
  • Being an overweight 5 isn’t a drawback either, I’ll get over firing your fat ass a lot quicker than if you were a sex bomb 10.
  • If you need extra, come to me BEFORE you go moonlighting.
  • If you call in sick to go moonlighting, don’t even bother coming in for your back pay… I already used it for your leaving party.
  • There are plenty of get rich quick con schemes out there, but this is a REAL job, with prospects measured in decades, it’s a steady living.
  • The more work YOU put in and the more loyalty you show the company, the better your long term prospects.
  • You can do a hostile takeover, but 3 seconds after your ass hits the MD’s chair the company ceases trading, the guy you just sacked took the customer base with him, 100% of them, forever.

You get the idea lay-dees….

AT this point in time the company has “progressed” to the point where merely getting an interview entails you blowing the MD (me) on the directors couch.

It may not be NASA, but a skanky ho like you ain’t even getting the URL of the fucking contact page from them, and no fucking way are you going to the moon, but at least this little wrong side of the tracks porn company has good capitalisation and a long term future ahead of it, which will put a roof over your head.

I find THIS singularly appropriate to post again.

 

Grab a beer, pull up a chair.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:47 am

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

The answer of course is NO

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

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

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

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

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

I myself am not that kind of man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Think back, what you felt was wanting to puke.

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t feel BAD, you feel SAD.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Serious question.

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

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

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

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

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