Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

September 29, 2013

How times change.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 12:43 pm

I just met some stupid skank who is going on a solo backpacking trip to Thailand, she is excited but one part of the deal that gets no thought or attention whatsoever is the flight over there.

When I was a baby it was called Siam, and the flight was three days, not so much because of the top speed and range of the piston powered DC-9 and Constellations and Super Connies of the day, (There were deHavilland Comets too, but not enough to run all the services) basically converted wartime bombers, but it was hugely expensive, so certain minimum levels of comfort and relaxation were required, and of course instruments weren’t that good, the flight navigator had to actually navigate, albeit with RDF assistance, so if you were flying London to Singapore it was two overnight stops in hotels.Air_France,_Sud-Est_SE-161_Languedoc

The alternative was going by ship, I did that once too, 28 days journey time.

You could write a letter, par avion, on thin cigarette paper notepaper, often blue, and the envelopes had a red and blue pattern around the edge, and would take a week to arrive.

If it was really urgent you could send a telegram, that should get there in a day or so.

*BIG* businesses with offices around the globe by the late seventies had the Telex, think of it as a 50 baud point to point SMS.

We had one of the new fangled e-lec-tro-nic transistor (as opposed to thermionic valve) radios, it was a good one, it had a whole twelve transistors inside it, it said so on the front, and you could get long wave, medium wave, and short wave, (for the BBC world service) and of course it was all AM amplitude modulation, nobody had heard of frequency modulation.

We got our first TV in time to watch the moon landings, 425 line VHF band with a tuning dial and variable capacitor just like a radio, black and white of course…lol… and you could tell when any of the neighbours cars points and coil ignition systems needed a service…lol

We got a phone then too, you know, in our own house, in the hallway… I can still remember the number, 811, of course if you wanted to ring anyone outside the town you lived in you still had to dial the operator, (“Whitehall 1212” to be connected to scotland yard) as STD standard trunk dialling or direct dialling hadn’t come in yet, (it actually didn’t cover 100% of the UK until the late seventies) hell, the ability to direct dial local numbers without needing an operator to make the circuit was all new…

You could actually navigate by the phone lines, because the cross trees and insulators were always on the same side with respect to London.GlenTay Train wreck 4

When I went to school you got handed a little book of tables, log, sin, cos, tan, etc That and a pencil and a piece of paper was how you did your workings, if you needed to work faster you could use a slide rule, three digit precision pretty much, but in reality that was enough for most real world calculations.

This was all long long long before you actually saw the first pong game in the shops, or the first LED digital watches, or anything else to do with the silicon chip, which was still a pipe dream.

As a boy from the age of 12 onwards I made *many* solo and unaccompanied journeys comprising of a train from wherever I was in the UK to either Reading or London, grab a bus or a cab from there to Heathrow, find my flight, check in, board it and arrive at a destination half way around the world.

By *many* I mean when the then BOAC started their first jet services in the late fifties, even though 99.9% of the routes and flights were still piston & propeller driven, there were a great many Englishmen working abroad in all corners of the Globe, doing what Englishmen did, building the railways and mines and shipyards and so on, pretty much all ex-servicemen, and of course they all had kids, and so it was quite common for those kids to attend school “back home” and fly out for school holidays, depending on how senior (well paid) your folks were and how much they disliked you, you could get flown out once, twice or three times a year, so you could easily do six flights between London and Singapore for example per year… so BOAC brought in a thing to keep all these little shits well behaved called the junior jet club, I think 7 was the lower age limit, and every flight you got 5 minutes in the cockpit in flight and your little book stamped, and you got certificates at 125k, 250k, and 500k miles…. of course it didn’t take long to add that up, and by the time you were 12 you’d dumped all that crap and the stupid “unaccompanied minor” lapel pin that meant the BOAC staff would look out for you…. do you know where you are flying to little boy, would you like a drink, lol

Tickets and all were of course pre-paid and pre-booked, but looking back I used to carry astonishingly little cash, probably fifty bucks in today’s money.

In theory you could make an international phone call, but I personally had never heard of anyone who had done such a thing, and I knew people who owned and ran fucking huge multinational companies, either my dad worked directly for them or I knew their kids…

I could go on and on and on, but, you get the idea.

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Perhaps, just perhaps, it is because I come from a time when communication was either face to face, or slooooow, you didn’t expect instant gratification, it could take a week or more for the letter to get there, and a week or more for the reply to get back..

So on the one hand I find the whole modern “what the fuuuuuck!!!! I sent the cunt a message three whole fucking minutes ago and I still haven’t had a fucking reply, what the fuuuuuck!!!“ rather amusing and stupid, on the other hand I do come from a time when each communication was considered valuable, so SOME FUCKING RESPONSE would be nice, not some “lol yeah” either, a fucking response, with content and meaning and information.

In part this is because of the modern obsession with “multitasking”, but of course there ain’t no such animal, all there is is “time slicing” and if you find yourself unable to hold six face to face conversations simultaneously or make six phone calls simultaneously or play six games of chess simultaneously, then it really is no wonder that you fail utterly at using a variety of different methods to;

  1. whatsapp person #1
  2. sms person #2
  3. sms person #3
  4. web/mail/portal person #4
  5. email person #5
  6. kik person #6

all the while checking fuckbook and twatter and so on.

If you chop the time slice for any of those jobs below the minimum required to do that stage of that job properly, then you just added to the noise and detracted from the signal for all the rest of it too.

I see this ALL THE FUCKING TIME, particularly with wimminz, but to be fair not a hell of a lot less with guys, they are operating under information overload and as a result the instant you drop off the mental radar you are forgotten.

It is the same process whether you are waiting for an update to a job in a work email or waiting to her from a skank on a fucking site, you just may give more of a shit or be more annoyed by one or the other, because it matters more to you personally at that moment, but, to the other person involved you are just noise that fell off the radar.

You were lost in the immediacy and urgency of the moment.

It’s nothing personal, you fell off her radar, someone else stayed on and got their balls drained.

It’s nothing personal, in fact, that is exactly it, the time slices are cut so thin there is no room left for anything personal, and so the obsession everyone has is with what they do not have, not what they do have.

Apart from an empty belly, I have yet to meet a dog, or any other animal come to that, who spends any time at all worrying about what they do not have, and they are better for it.

I could sit here and make no changes of any material kind whatsoever to my life, and start worrying about what I do not have, including all the hundreds of wimminz that have not sent me meaningful personal communications, and ruin my life by doing so, because I would end up unhappy with it.

Or, I can sit here and be a dog, actually I have everything I fucking need, hell, I have things that were beyond any science fiction to the little boy I once was, and be extremely happy and content with life.

Sure, there are things I do not have, but the lack of them does not detract from what I do have.

The bitch who started this thread off, her “backpacking holiday” will be centred around her fucking iphone, and taking selfies, and updating her fuckbook page, and roaming charges and wifi hotspots and mains charging adapters, and her life is sliced into time slots so thin she might as well have stayed at home and joined Second Life, because lets face it, her first and only real life is passing her by in multi-tasked slices too small to achieve anything of merit.

 

October 24, 2011

Not knowing this is often fatal, literally.

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 11:49 am

It is one of the hilarious twists in fate that human nature insists that we all learn our own lessons the hard and painful way, rather than being taught them the easy and painless way.

We all have to test that fire we have been told will burn us is hot enough to burn, that a blade we have been told is sharp will cut us, and so on and so forth.

This isn’t because we are stupid, I think it is because we are hardwired to crave the direct memory experience, and also because we are hardwired to gather empirical evidence before putting trust in another and their knowledge.

Of course when it comes to mating and reproduction this shit all goes out the window.

Which brings us to an interesting question.

What is the difference between a father of 20 years of age holding his newborn son, and a father of 50 years of age holding his newborn son?

How you receive the answer to this question will be totally dependent upon your own age, and experience…. TOTALLY.

The answer is the 20 year old father wants to do everything possible for his son, and his heart breaks at every little thing he fails to do, while the 50 year old father knows that there is nothing he can do for his son, except be there when his son comes calling, particularly after his son reaches 16 himself, and no longer needs a father but needs a man whom he can trust to teach him how each fuckup he made was made, and why it was a fuckup, and how to learn from it.

You see we are talking about perceptions shifting with the passage of time and accumulation of knowledge and experience.

You simply have to live a certain number of years before you realise that your human time span is simply far too short for many many things, and far too long for others, and confusing the two can often be fatal.

You also have to live a certain number of years before you truly understand that human society does not change like a river course slowly and gradually eroded over time by the river, well actually it does, but those changes are gradual, you have to live long enough to see the periodic torrential floods that completely alter the landscape to understand that they are where the majority of change takes place, and it takes place very very rapidly indeed, and with apparently little or no warning.

The Men’s Rights movement is one such, the older bastards amongst us realise that while it is important to keep the seeds alive, gradual growth and change are not realistic goals, the sole purpose of keeping the seeds alive and distributed widely is in readiness for the torrential floods that will literally alter the entire landscape overnight.

The older bastards amongst us are also old enough to see impending torrential flooding, we saw the dark clouds and flashes in the horizon three days ago, we have lived long enough to learn that the current topography of the valley could not be explained by gradual erosion alone, so some nights we would climb the peaks and sit quietly and talk with our peers and gaze out at the horizon.

The other thing we would do is compare notes, because the older bastards amongst us were not just told that fire burns and blades cut by our parents, who of course had first hand knowledge of this, but also about the Great Depression and the two World Wars and poverty and society, by our parents, who of course had first hand knowledge of this.

One of the greatest dangers you younger bastards face is this lack of knowledge, you do not know, deep within your bones, that what is legal and proper today can merit 20 years in prison this time next year, that the person or indeed institution who is your friend today, can be your implacable and deadly enemy this time next year.

In short, you all think you can change the world.

We older bastards know that yes, each man can have a very small and local influence on the world, but the world will have a massive and irresistible influence on that man… we are all individually changed far more than we could ever change the world, and this is even true for those with the most personal power, the Hitler’s of this world, so it is true a billion trillion zillionfold for the small man in the street, you and I.

Indeed, the older bastards will nod and agree that the Hitler’s are made from small men in the street who are too stupid to learn that life changes you more than you can ever change life…. nobody, not Galileo, not Newton, not Einstein, not Jobs, not Gates, nobody was changed by what they did, they were essentially the same people throughout life, being changed by the world they inhabited.

The older bastards will nod and agree that no idea ever was born from one man, no matter that the history books say otherwise, but rather like a solution becoming saturated to the point crystals can form, the world creates conditions where many men working on similar things from similar foundations arrive at similar answers at similar times.

We older bastards also know, direct from our parents who we know for a fact were not lying, but trying to teach us, that they lived through these torrential floods where the entire landscape changed overnight, and the effects upon them and their attitudes was not merely life changing but character changing.

And if you younger guys are nodding and thinking you get it, character changing like guys coming back from the Nam or Iraq with PTSD, then you don’t fucking get it… you don’t fucking get it because only a very small and easily ignored minority of the population came back from “war” with PTSD.

What my parents and grandparents were trying to tell me about was EVERY SINGLE MOTHERFUCKER ON THE ENTIRE PLANET WHO LIVED THROUGH IT getting changed FOREVER.

NOBODY did not get PTSD and a permanent character change, and these were the lucky bastards who lived through it. Those who failed to adapt died, literally… irrespective of age or sex or how hard they had had it, failing to adapt and change utterly forever was literally fatal.

So the bottom line is be very careful what you do, and do not do, today, because you could very easily find that next year a law is passed to make that thing retroactively illegal, with a minimum sentence of 20 years hard labour.

Being the small man on the street has its advantages, you get to stay under the radar, unlike the French nobility, when TSHTF… not if, when.

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