Thursday, 28 February 2013

The Female Mind Is A Warped And Twisted Place

Was out recently dancing with a female friend (yes, I dance - I'm not some completely uncultured boor). This mildly drunk chick comes and sits down with my friend, strikes up a convo with her while I'm having a piss. When I get back and sit down, the convo takes a weird turn:

DC: So, are you two together? (she'd caught us dancing and liked it I guess)

Me and Friend: It's kind of complicated...

DC: (sits forward, eyes opening wide) Tell me! I love complicated!

F: I've got a boyfriend, we're just here to relax and have a drink and dance a bit.

DC: Ohhhh! You have a boyfriend, and you two are hooking up together! Oh wow, I so totally respect that you two can be so open about that!

F: (who really loves her boyfriend) No, I love my boyfriend. We're just friends, not going to hook up.

DC: Oh wow, but you just both so look good together! I mean, I can totally see you two hooking up together, despite your boyfriend!

F: (who is now getting pissed off) No, we're not going to hook up! We're just friends!

DC: Hey, it's awesome you two can do that! (starts rubbing her hands over my hands and arms)

By this point I'm as amused as hell and my friend is unhappy about the conversation. Some people are just too strait-laced and unable to enjoy the humor of the moment.

Later, walking to my car, I passed DC and her boyfriend arguing over whose car she was going home in. So her side of her conversation had been obvious projection of her desire to break up with him and go playing the field again. She just didn't really have the guts to dump what she had and play around - or rather, she wanted to find someone new before she broke up with her current. Which is what she was thinking that we were doing.

The female mind is weird.

Tuesday, 26 February 2013

Love and Hate

Time for a little philosophy and suchlike random crapola from the twisted skeins of my decaying grey matter.

People say that love and hate are opposites. Both strong emotions, etc, etc, etc. Ad nauseum. Add whatever else you wish to add to this.

People are wrong.

Love and hate are both the same side of the coin. They are hard to distinguish in many ways.

For example, it is almost as easy to fuck a girl who hates you as it is to fuck a girl who loves you. Something gets a little stirred up there in the old grey matter - and next thing, she's giggling kittenishly in post-coital glow, dreamily running her fingers through your chest-hair while resting her head on your chest and breathing in your manly scent.

So love and hate are not opposites. No. The opposite of love (and hate) is indifference.

It is HARD to get the attention and interest of those who basically don't care if you exist.

In my view, this is what Game does. It knocks through the indifference barrier, getting a woman's attention, from which point you can quickly escalate to increase her attraction. Or simply do it slowly, taking your time about things, drawing out the process to the point where it is extremely titillating for the girl. Driving her slowly mad with lust and anticipation.

Depending upon how you prefer to do things - and if you really want a new girl in your bed every day.

Strange, the oddball things that you learn as you go through life.

Monday, 25 February 2013

The Hypocrisy of the War on Drugs

My generation was born of the hippies in the sixties. Free love, alcohol, every drug you can imagine taken every way you can imagine (including anally - and I'm not meaning someone's cock, even though sex is a drug). Good shit like that.

This is why it amuses me every time someone gets arrested for growing or providing some drug. These laws came into existence after the swinging permissiveness was over, done for, most people got tired, etc.

My personal opinion is that people kinda-sorta saw the results (ie that people had a great fucking time) and got their tits in a knot. So they decided that Puritanism was the way to go. As in, hard-nosed toe-the-fucking-line attitude. Hypocritical to the max, given that many of them had been doing this themselves - but, like, you know, we should protect you from yourselves, man.

Funny, prohibition was tried once before. It worked real well.

The efforts to nail down drugs is going just as successfully. Like, real well, man.

The problem being that when you criminalise something like this:

• you cannot stop it
• you cannot regulate it
• you cannot properly monitor it


• you cannot concentrate on the really bad stuff while leaving the relatively innocuous stuff to work itself out

You also waste a shitload of money trying all of the above - and failing spectacularly. Plus the crime which gets the boost from moving and peddling this shit. Finally, also looking like fucking idiots for even trying - especially given all the cops who are in on it too.

How do drugs work themselves out? For starters, the really stupid and out-of-control fuckers kill themselves off - sadly sometimes at the expense of some more worthwhile people. Spilled milk, et al. Death is usually the great equaliser, and with some luck these types won't survive long enough to breed.

The best part is that in a couple generations, the problem will go away. Especially if we are proactive enough to limit their birthrate:

"A confirmed user of drug 'A&R'? Okay, to prevent your babies from getting hooked in the womb, you are getting forcibly sterilised. What about your fucking rights, we're talking about the rights of the child. It's all for the children, not you! If you wanted kiddies you should have stayed away from the fucked-up hard stuff. Was your choice though, now this is the consequence."

Put it in those terms. As bald-faced unsympathetic as it fucking gets.

Then sit back and watch the sensible people lead sensible lives, and the retards crying and begging and puling once they "grow up" a little and find that they cannot do something - because of the consequences.

I predict that the bleeding-heart motherfuckers will come out of the woodwork too, whining about how it's not riiiiight to do that to people. Tell that to the Chinese with their one child per family law: it worked well overall, and fuck the stupid motherfuckers who tried to flout it and have several kiddies. Sterilisation cometh.

Of course the bleeding-heart fucktards will get their knickers in a knot with me: "You just wanna get high legally and to hell with the rest of society!" I drink only very moderate amounts of alcohol - so it is with lofty disdain that I will ignore your craptastic attempts to shame me into line with your moral views. Go fuck yourself up the ass you stuck-up moralistic passive-aggressive whining prig.

Why I Love PostSecret

This should be every man's little pleasure - to look up PostSecret every Sunday/Monday and tiptoe breathless through the revealed treasures of the female mind. (Okay, enough fucking Purple Prose. Back to normal programming.)

Gentlemen, here is Exhibit A:

This kind of occurrence/thinking is prevalent. I know that you're gonna find it hard to credit - yet it's true. Stupid and true.

Example from last night, I was out having some beers with a couple of friends. One of the girls I was with had a couple more females show up: a couple of ugly and overweight landwhales, to be very charitable. Eventually the subject turned to men and dating, and how men these days only want sex. And how NZDating (a dating site, duh!) is only filled with losers who want them only for sex.

Dear me.

Girls, here's the secret - the REAL secret, not that fucking hogwash bullshit movie and books thing. Men want: long hair, big tits, tight ass, long legs.

If you've got that, we'll do a lot for you. If you have a loving, wonderful, feminine personality to go with it, we'll move the fucking earth for you.

Not old, fat, whining goddamned landwhales. Of course all you're finding on NZDating is losers wanting you for sex. You fucking landwhales are only going to attract losers because winners are fucking proper women, not fat pigs. You look like the dregs, so you attract the dregs.

One of these fucking landwhales also had a whinge that she'd been married for thirty years, gotten divorced because she'd never actually loved her husband (even from the day she married him) and that she wished that she'd divorced him twenty years ago. Now it's too late for her. Which fits in well with the PostSecret thing up there, don't it.

Jesus, the hamsterbation was surreal to behold.

Girls, yes, men only want you for sex. Why? Because you trained us to be that way!

While you were young, you fucked around having your fun instead of getting serious about marriage and settling down and having children. Men (who got the sex) became used to that: women only wanting sex. Men (who got no sex) became bitter: and eventually checked out.

Now you want to settle down - and all you can find is the guys who want sex. The rest are gone, checked out long ago. As you sow, so shall you reap. The schadenfreude is delicious, as are your bitter tears.

That said, I got the number of a rather cute middle-aged woman very simply: "Here, put your number in my phone." She herself had been having a bitch about men only wanting sex. We talked. She has medium hair, reasonable tits, and nice legs. Ass is probably decent, will see once I get her naked.

Mental note: to fuck, soon. I'm going to give her what she wants: sex.

I will enjoy squeezing a few more of the drops of black poison from her soul.

Sunday, 24 February 2013

Dear Woman

You interest me because I've seen this pattern before.

Three-odd months ago, you detonated your 20-year-marriage and ejected from your family, leaving your children and hubby.

When I asked you what happened: "We weren't growing together, and if you're not growing together..."

This is one of the most dishonest, transparent, and lame excuses that I've heard. When run through my bullshit-to-English converter it comes out as: "He didn't give me the hots any more and I got bored, so now I'm doing the 41-year-old cougar/slut thing. Hooray for Eat, Pray, Love!"

I know that you've already had three guys. Given the rumours, I'm betting that there's at least seven more one-night guys that I've not seen. (I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt: I know one girl who admitted to me having six guys in one night. THAT is a record in my experience.)

While you are fuckable, you are certainly not even short-term relationship material. So in general you do not interest me in that way. Plus fucking you would be far too risky given the number of men you're going through: very high chance of catching an STD.

What is far more fascinating is seeing the black poison in your soul. The way that you expose it to the world is so very classy. /dry

I wonder how many others are picking up on it too.

Sincerely, a very amused BlackPoisonSoul

PS: # of guys willing to fuck you != # of guys willing to invest in and commit to you

We know damaged goods when we see it so eloquently on display.

Friday, 22 February 2013

Then and Now

• scratching to put $500 a month aside
• overweight and unhealthy
• two incomes (wife working)
• not going anywhere on holiday
• generally stressed and unhappy

• learning dance (Ceroc)
• going to gym (with a great PT)
• enjoy time in the outdoors (beach)
• can make improvements to the home
• can make investments
• can go have a night out with friends
• can go on holiday
• eating well and getting healthier
• can do my hobbies
• pay someone else to mow the lawns
• one (lesser) income only
• generally unstressed and shitloads happier

That's a huge contrast in lifestyle. I'm certainly not sweating my guts out for someone who is ungrateful - it's all MINE to do with as I please. Which I do. No relegation to the basement "man cave" bullshit, it's my home and I do as I please everywhere within it.

Additionally, I'm only paying my own way. If I hang out with someone, it's because I want to hang out with them. There is no pressure on myself or them for anything. If I'm feeling knackered, then I can chill by myself, no problems and no getting pissy when somebody just won't fucking leave you alone for five minutes.

Best part: I can put out only minimal effort and get sex. If a girl wants to fuck me, so long as she meets my standards, no problem. If she's not interested, no problem. If she's insane, she can take her creepy little mind elsewhere. It's best for all concerned.

Now I know from personal experience why the old English had a his-and-hers separate bedroom. And why the Karma Sutra emphasised a special room just for sex. I take this to what might seem an extreme: she never, ever moves in. It simply isn't worth the bullshit and hassle.

Living apart: the way of the future.

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

What The Fuck Were You Thinking?

Women, what the fuck were you thinking?

There's dumb, and there's dumber. (And dumbest, yet I digress.)

In the old days having a family involved: teaching letters and manners, cooking, cleaning, wiping noses and asses, organising, looking after sick family members, etc.

Instead you have passed up on that homemaker garbage for careers as: secretaries, nurses, cleaners, teachers, home health care workers, maids, sales clerks, cooks, waitresses, and store shelf stackers.

Don't bother talking about: lawyers, doctors, surgeons, architects, pilots, programmers, scientists, etc. The vast majority of women don't do that sort of intensive fields of work.

So instead of doing support work for your family - with lower effort and stress thanks to the progress and inventions created by your men, which now allow you to settle down for a couple of hours in the middle of the day to read Fifty Shades of Grey - you decided to do 8+ hours of solid daily work to support someone else's business or life.

Of course, that meant you had to get someone else to look after your children. (Daycare, yay!) Also someone else to cook for you when you were too tired or lazy to do it yourself. (Fast-food, yay!) Then you were too damn busy to vacuum and wash and clean. (Maid, yay!) With lots of times out with friends. (Dinner and drinks out, yay!) had to pay for all that shit. (Damn.)

And sadly, you had to put off having kids until later in life, so you could pursue your career. (Damn.)

You also had to put off finding the right guy to settle down with. (Damn.)

But you did have your fun while single! And got preggers. No hubby to help with this kid. (Double-damn.)

Unfortunately, you really didn't have much real quality time with your child. Too busy with career, and bang, they've grown up now. You missed the best. (Damn!)

You're older and are thinking of more now have a higher chance of things like Downs Syndrome. Plus you just don't have the energy that you did at twenty. And who wants kids at age fifty. (Crap damn.)

Now the available guys don't want to marry you - you think they've gotten feral or something. Scared bastards cannot handle an accomplished woman like you. (Goddamn.)

So you concentrate on your daughter...who goes and does pretty-much what you did...leaving you to settle down with a couple of pets and occasionally fucking that very nice bachelor down the street. The one who fucks those five other women as well. (Damn.)

Then one day you realise could have done just as well, if you'd gotten properly committed at a young age and been a stay-at-home mom. It was the same sort of work...and while you didn't get paid for it would have been cheaper to live.

And easier.

And less stressful.

And more satisfying.

And you'd have been happier.

And had more wonderful times with more than one child.

And had quality family times with a great man, like the ones that in hindsight you shouldn't have passed up while you were having fun while pursuing your career.

And you'd have him with you now.

So now you're curled up tonight, miserable, crying, desperately unhappy, wishing you had someone to hold you close in the darkness while the rain blasts down on the roof and the thunder and lightning split the night sky. Someone to say softly, warmly, into your ear: "There, there love, it's going to be all right." Someone to kiss the back of your neck, to cuddle you from behind, letting you fall asleep, feeling warm and protected.

Happy and loved.

What were you thinking.

This post brought to you by "1am insomnia™". The tears in your eyes are an especial gift - pardon me while I enjoy some extra schadenfreude.

Monday, 18 February 2013

Have High Standards

When interacting with people, it is always good practice to ask yourself: "Does this person measure up to my standards?" Then hold them to those standards - don't simply shrug and stay around them because of some form of social inertia. Decide whether you want to continue staying around them or not.

If not: have the guts to walk away.

Not too long ago a woman I was fucking mentioned that she was surprised that I chose her (ie that I was out of her league). I told her that I have quite high standards (ie she met my criteria and that I don't just fuck anything). Thankfully, it went to her head.

Soon afterwards she violated my standards: she had a shit-fit over a text that I sent in response to a slightly risqué picture she sent me of her in her panties (I was distracted instead of kissing her pussy/ass). At that point I realised that she no longer met my standards (of maturity and common sense) and walked away from her without a qualm.

The drama-queen horseshit that ensued over the next two days really cemented that as the best decision I could have made. I dodged a bullet from a grade-A nutjob, one who hid it very well. Goodbye Princess NutJob, have fun storming the castle...err...getting fucked by someone else.

There's probably only one solid question about a person: do they add value to your life. "No" means that you shouldn't waste much if any time with them. "Yes" means that you should make an attempt to spend at least some time with them - assuming they are interested. (Some people are simply too busy: let them go, with some regret, but don't lose touch with them if you can help it. It might develop later on.)

Standards are on a sliding scale depending on the relationship (roughly as follows):

• family/wife
• long-term girlfriend
• close friend (don't let others break up your friendships)
• short-term girlfriend
• friendly
• fucktoy
• acquaintance
• someone you've only just or never met (common courtesy and decency)

There are standards which shouldn't be broken in any company (like being a real dick/cunt - when they're violated the only possible response is to say "classy" or "charming" in a dry tone and walk away, shaking your head). The closer someone is to you, the higher the standards and the stricter your enforcement of those standards.

In more intimate relationships, the highest standards of all should apply. Bluntly, this person is supposed to be your (hopefully mutual) partner. Someone to share with and build something with that protects you both against the random shit happenings of the world. (I sound like such a fucking romantic.)

Yet, too many people let their intimate people treat them like shit. Family treat them like shit. Friends treat them like shit. Boy- or girl-friends treat them like shit. And they take it, for whatever reasons there might be (in their creepy little fucked-up minds).

By allowing that treatment they are exposing their inner shitty values: "I don't deserve better because I am shit."

Seriously? Are you really shit? Right, I will take you at your self-evaluation.

Up your standards. Enforce them. Even if it causes temporary pain (like losing friends) the result will be long-term pleasure (gaining better friends). In the long run, you will benefit from it.

Thursday, 14 February 2013

Happy Valentines Day (sucker)

Yes, it is Valentines Day here in New Zealand. Feb 14, 2013. The day when all the girls expect - nay, demand! - some special show of validation from their man.

Roses. Chocolates. Dinner out. Perhaps a romantic movie.

Checking the local movies I see a few contenders for tonight's RomCom with your girl: This Is 40, Safe Haven, Movie 43, and Silver Linings Playbook (just reading the blurb of this one makes me want to puke). I think that I might go for Seven Psychopaths.

A day of blatant consumerism and suckuppery from men to women. Silver Linings Playbook probably illustrates this at its nauseating maximum, with some retarded man mat just out of 8 months psychiatric ward who is determined to get his life and wife back (tagline "love hurts" HAH! only in optionless pussylessland). God, they made a movie about letting someone that mentally and emotionally fucked-up out of the ward.

So gentlemen, take this day - this enormous shit test from women-kind the world over - and look upon it as the great gift that it is.

The chance to test HER love of YOU.

Don't buy her flowers (cookie-cutter same-old same-old). Don't buy her chocolates (they just make her fat). Don't take her out to dinner (like the other sheep). Don't take her to a RomCom movie (gonna be crowded with plebs and suckups). Don't put any real effort into her at all (every stupid bastard is trying to be different for their girl - it causes a glut of stupidity).

Just do one thing.

One single text.

"Happy Valentines Day X"

Don't use her name. Don't expand on it. Make it as cookie-cutter cold and impersonal as possible. As if you had sent it to fifty other girls at the same time. If you want, you can make it all lower-case so that it conveys that extra vibe of don't-give-a-fucking-shit. Take out the "X" for some X-tra sting.

Then settle down with an inner smile and observe what happens.

If she's really upset - as in screaming shit-fits - dump her entitled cunt instantly. Next her without a word, never communicate with her again, total ghost/silent treatment. Because she is not entitled to shit in this world - beyond the air that she breathes. Everything else has to be earned, most especially your attention and investment and commitment. Her egregious disregard of that shows her princess entitled mentality to a final fare-thee-well. That shit also gets worse with time, so be thankful that you dodged that bullet.

If she is moderately upset - as in crying - then she cares for you, at least somewhat. Continue your relationship. Preferably by fucking her rotten. Make sure that she walks funny.

If she shows very little upset at all, then she has little feelings for you. Slowly drift away as you find someone more interested.

This public service announcement brought to you by "all vaginas are interchangeable™". You are welcome.

Wednesday, 13 February 2013

Yes All Women Are Like That

There is a saying amongst men: not all women are like that (abbreviated to NAWALT). Usually applied as a caveat to broadly-observed (usually bad) behaviour amongst many, many women.

I do not believe it.

Yes, all women are like that - if they could, absolutely, literally, get away with it Scott-free.

No consequences? No repercussions at all? No judgement at all? AND its intensely enjoyable?

Yes, all women are like that (YAWALT).

I know this, because in the depths of my black soul, I am honest enough to admit that I would do anything if there were literally no consequences and repercussions and judgements at all.

I look at women - including my mother - and see it all happening there. I am the same as you are. From the seeds of people like me - like us - are sociopaths and narcissists made.

Lord of the Flies (the book/movie). The psychology experiment by Philip Zimbardo, Stanford University, 1971 - it was supposed to last 14 days, it was abandoned after 6 days.

The ONLY thing that holds our worst sides in check is fear. Fear of consequences, fear of repercussions, fear of judgement. This is why it becomes easy for those with power to do as they please: they lose their fear.

Currently, society is losing its fear.

Women were first: thanks to the power of feminism they lost the fear of being judged sexually. The result is unrestrained sexuality with the "best" 20% of men while the remaining 80% are treated like dirt - until the woman decides that it is time to settle down with someone to provide for her in her old age. Often with another man's child in tow.

Men are second: they are now losing their fear of being judged as losers. They are cutting back on their lifestyle, settling for doing interesting and enjoyable things, rather than sweating their guts out in the "hope" that some woman will see his sterling qualities and choose to settle down with him and have a couple of children.

Because even the average man can now see that the women are simply not worth the effort. They've already been well-ravaged by other guys, have pushed out another guy's baby, and now expect the hard-working man to provide for her and the other guy's sprog and any more sproglets that she may push out. They may not be his, either.

Now that men are losing their fears, women are not happy about it. They expected to have their final prize and it has been taken away from them. So they attempt to shame men: You cannot handle a woman like me. Where have all the good men gone. You woman-hating bastard, man up! They cannot comprehend that there are still consequences for their behaviour, even though they were told that there weren't.

Tell you girls what: I'll bring home three random babies from my fucking other chicks and expect you to change their diapers, wipe their noses, feed them, bring them up, go to work full-time (and overtime) to bring in money to make ends meet - AND I'll refuse to fuck you. I will only fuck other chicks. Plus as an added bonus I'll whinge in your ear whenever I feel like it.

What do you mean, that doesn't sound like a good deal? You man-hating bitch, woman up!

Without fear: Yes. All. Women. Are. Like. That.

Beginnings - Exposing the black poison in the soul

So, here's the obligatory "first post" introduction-thing. Humph.

What's this for: Whatever the hell I want it to be for. Generally, it's about the "regrowth" of myself in various ways.

Where the hell am I: New Zealand.

Who the hell am I: A guy living in the fucked-up and twisted western society that is New Zealand. While I have Maori (and Australian Aboriginal) blood in me, I look white. Haters can deal with it, I'm not a product of miscegenation - I'm a melting-pot child. I'm allowed to call a nigger a nigger, because I am a nigger, you politically-correct racist bastards.

What the hell am I doing here: Exposing some thoughts in the vain hope that my story and journey will help someone else not have to go through so much stupid shit with life. Or at least will give them a few pointers and cause an "ah-hah!" moment. Occasionally.

Specifically about: Women. Experiences, what I see, and thoughts on how not to get shafted™ in your life. At least, not too badly. I keep the more PC-life-doings shit for FaceCrap, which is where I keep in touch with overseas friends.

Yes, this is a man-thing. You girls can call me bitter and misogynistic if you wish. These days, most women-stuff sounds like the meowings of kittens in a sack with a brick. Ready for the local river.

Some days, things are blacker than others. On those days, the nihilistic poison exposed will be blacker than usual. Assuming that I bother to post - the preference will be for quality over quantity, so that there might be a post once every week or so. Depending on my work-load and mental state and if there is something I think worth the sharing.

A little more about me: I am an introvert (ISTJ, with leanings towards INTJ). My IQ is in the high 130's/low 140's - when I can be bothered to expose it. Most times I deliberately act dumber than I really am, in an effort to let others expose their thoughts - so that I can have extra viewpoints and grist for my thoughts. The visible outer shell has been that of a non-judgemental, amiable guy, not too fucking smart eh.

I am divorced. My brother is divorced. Our mother was an early "single mommy": her first child was my half-sister (to the local milkman LOL how stereotypical/cliche is that!) - adopted out. Then our mother married a criminal on the run from another country (Australia) and had us. Once she divorced him, she was goddamn lucky to manage marrying another man.

I am an early product of what might be called "thug breeding". No illusions about that. Literally the only reason that I am not in the Mongrel-Mob or Stormies/Storm Troopers (Americans can think of them as our local Hells Angels) is because of my mind: I dragged myself away from the streets in search of better. It is possible to do: my brother and I did it.

In my case some of the streets stayed, though not much and well-hidden. It's hard to tell about my kid brother. I think less than what stayed with me, given what happened to him was worse in many ways. He took way too much shit for the sake of his children, until eventually he was done with it. His ex-wife is lucky, if more streets had stayed with him she might be dead. Think the movie: "Once Were Warriors". I think it was very close.

This is my speakeasy, where the venom spews out. At this point the comments are left alone: if they start to flame with trolls I'll moderate them or turn them off. Arguing with a retard on the Internet drags you all the way down to their level.

It's also very undignified.