Thursday, 31 December 2015

Learn To Be Lonely

I hadn't planned on any New Year's post or the like - or anything for the next few weeks. Yet here it is. Simply because something finally clicked in my head.

Why do divorced guys get married again? And again, and (sometimes) yet again? Three-four marriages?

They can't stand the loneliness.

Which finally explains a guy I know who just got taken (again) by his latest Russian bride. That's his original chick and two Russian girls so far. I wonder if he's going to try for #3 Russian bride - or maybe he'll go for Brazilian, or Argentinean, or Filipino, or whatever the du jour of the moment happens to be.

Happy fuckin' Christmas mate. Are you going to stop banging your head into the wall any time soon? You must be about broke by now.

Admittedly, thinking about it, it's only us old farts who go around doing stupid shit like second-third-fourth marriages. We still cling, in some weird way, to the idea of "the one".

There is no "One". The world isn't filled with elves, fairies, and unicorns that shit rainbows. It runs on blood, sweat and diesel.

The younger generation has it much easier than us old farts. They can generally read the writing on the wall. That is probably why the stereotype of the fat no-hoper young guy living in the 'rents basement and playing video games came into being. Boilerplate shaming language flung around by feminists and fucktards with an agenda, to describe a situation that they can't otherwise figure.

Like I said in "What is MGTOW" - it doesn't matter what the fuck you do. So long as it's your choice and you are in control of your life as much as possible.

The younger generation read the writing on the wall. They have many stellar examples and pillars of female respectability to enjoy the company of.

Why, even our bestest friend mattress girl is lauded as a paragon of wonderfulness. Something that all of teh wimminz should aspire to.

Of course, there's GamerGate - ComicGate - the other various Social Justice Warrior pussies who got their digs in while they could - the guys getting fired over a bad joke because Sarkeesian decided to take offence -

Yeah, the younger generation got their heads down. Fuckin' sensible, those guys. They know it's better to be lonely, than to be shafted. Way better than playing Russian Roulette with half the chambers loaded. Add another bullet for each marriage after the first.

Which makes a whole lotta sense. Most younger guys who are effective MGTOW never even read about it on the interwebs. They don't bother coming out here. They already know all this shit. They got eyes, they can see, they got brains, they can think. These days it truly doesn't take much to smell the shit and connect the dots. Her age doesn't matter much - the problems are relentless from the majority of women (maybe 80%).

It's just us older farts, and the guys still shaking off the blinkers and brainwashing, who have wandered into the manosphere. Trying to get a few answers. Pity that it's so full of scammers and con artists.

If you ever see me selling anything - some kinda infobook or the like - you know that I've sold my soul out and become a scammer.

Monday, 21 December 2015

Female Life Choice Stupidity

Hold tight, this is gonna be harsh. Feminists, rejoice in your screwing-up and screwing-over of your own sisters. And the next generation of kiddies too. As a minimum.

So here, I am going to dig into the Child Poverty Monitor for New Zealand (note that the website says 2015, but it's actually based on 2012 statistics - it's supposed to be updated every 5 years). Here is the opening graphics from that page:
I will say, I find these pictures hard to take - 'cause I'm a really soft-hearted bastard when it comes to kids, grouchy and mean-spirited as I might come across here. You'd probably expect me to make nasty comments about if they're better boiled, roasted, or fried.

Have to admire the marketing and artistry that went into those images. Especially the kid with the Buzzy Bee - brings back memories of the one that my brother and I shared as a kid. Very well-designed to tug the heartstrings. You will note that the only male father-type shown isn't the type of man who wears a suit.

Now to give these numbers a cold, hard look:

14% material hardship
9% severe poverty
29% income poverty

Which adds up to: 52% of New Zealand children living in conditions of poverty. Of course, they may be misrepresenting the numbers - however, material hardship/income poverty/severe poverty I will assume to be completely separate poverty brackets. So I can with reasonable confidence add them together to get total poverty percentages.

Here's another nasty statistic. In New Zealand, 49% of children are born to single mothers (according to the NZ Government's own statistics).

Hmmm. Interesting.

What is the most important decision that any woman can make in her entire life?


Who she has them with. When she has them. Where she has them. How she has them. Why she has them.

Yet a large % of women and her parents are fucking this up.

They are making a major life-changing decision in such a wishy-washy, lackadaisical manner that it screws up their life for the next 20-odd years.

That's the prime years of their life, too. When they are young, when they should be alive and filled with joy and happiness. When they should be part of a well-knit and loving family, community, helping to bring up strong and wholesome children to be proud of in their later years.

Instead they're stuck with doing their best to make ends meet - even with the help of das guberment and it's confiscatory taxes, plus stealing money from the pocket of the putative father.

Stupidity uber alles.

I'm not saying that these women are dumb. Far from it. Some of them are quite smart chicks. Unfortunately when someone with a 161 IQ turns around and becomes a single mommy ("it just happened!" - fucktard) I simply have to shake my bloody head at them. What organ were you thinking with, girl?

And we disparagingly say that MEN think with their dick.
Let's dig through a few more things on the Child Poverty Monitor front page:

* Staying home from school because they don't have the full uniform - I'm kinda torn with this one. One hand says "school uniforms are expensive bullshit" while the other hand says "school uniforms are necessary to stop the kids from dressing inappropriately". Comes down to it: if the schools are that Nazi-like...I have no fucking idea.

* Many children don't go to the doctor when sick because they can't afford the appointment costs and medicine - semi-bullshit. Children under 6yo have no (zero) fees. Recently this has been extended to children under 13yo. That's an improvement, which is what the site is supposed to be set up to track anyway.

* Staying home from school because they don't have a lunch to take - semi-bullshit. I see, very often, very fat women (I'm talking Beluga fuckin' Whale size) with skinny children. There's food there. It just ain't goin' in the right mouth. The government also provides free breakfast since 2013, in the form of milk and weetbix.

* Doing badly at school, not getting a good job, having poor health, falling into a life of crime - I will say "yes" to that. All of these are contributed to by poverty. Been known for yonks.

* Digging further in, the incidence of child poverty in 1984 was 15% and now it's 29% (how the hell that adds up to 52% of children currently living in poverty I'm not sure - but we'll run with it for now). So the incidence of poverty is rising. I would go along with that - the incidence of juvenile delinquency and crime and general stupidity is rising as well, probably somewhere along the same rate.

* Take part in our campaign and tell New Zealand #itsnotchoice - BULLSHIT! It's not the child's choice, but it sure as shit was the momma's! He was good enough to part her legs for. He's not good enough to be her husband and help bring up children. He's making enough that it's worth stinging him for child-support for the next 15 years. She can fill her fat belly but not her kiddies.
It's interesting to me to note that the rise in child poverty seems to rise with the incidence of numbers of single mommies:

1986 - 5.8%
1991 - 7.0%
1996 - 7.8%

I can't find statistics for the rise in single mommies for last few years, beyond the 49% of all New Zealand children being born to single mommies. That alone is shocking enough, though. There must have been quite an explosion. If I assume that a single mommy has 2 kiddies on average, that means 25% of women in NZ are single mommies. The chances are probably much higher that it's only a single kid though, so maybe it's more like 40% of women are single mommies.

You can add to that the results of the 53% divorce-rate that I touch on here. The kiddies from these divorces most likely end up in the poverty-bracket also. They certainly end up in the "troubled" section of society.

Riddle me this: In what fucked-up society is a businessman who makes $150k a year - who certainly never beat the shit out of his wife - suddenly hit with a divorce/frivorce - and is considered by all and sundry to be a loser and not worth spit?

Remind me again: Why we are paying for these mutilated beggars?

Saturday, 19 December 2015

Random Brain-Dump

Keoni Galt over at Hawai'ian Libertarian has been going great guns over the last month with his observations on the world:

Remember the Reason for the $ea$on
The Illusion of Choice aka DuhMockRuh$€¥
Programmed Obsession With Evil

Satan bought my soul for 10¢ on the dollar. Maybe if I was a better person, he would have paid 20¢. There are times when I wonder.
I'm supposed to care about money. I'm supposed to take corporate cock up the ass while singing the National Anthem.


The stress and the bullshit take over, and your soul is poisoned forever. The dream vanishes. Only the lifestyle remains.

You spend half your life being bored as shit about your job, the other half talking about how interesting it is. Yak yak yak for 12 hours a day.

If you get some clarity, you start sweeping away the ashes and make something more meaningful to you. Fuck everyone else.
Money is no object. You are an object.

You might hate feeling crazy. Unfortunately, your job depends on it. Sanity would make you pull a gun and do something about it.

So you walk around, looking busy, handing out your business card - too busy to notice the cock up your ass.
Satan's wet dreams don't have people in them.

Much of the wastelands of the interwebs, out here, is nothing more than an insane rant. Then someone writes it up in a book. The subject, the subset, of an insane rant.

"I rote this! Pay me $$$! On your knees and suck Satan's cock! Swallow! You know you love it! I am your GURU!! YOU WILL BOW DOWN BEFORE ME AND SUCK MY COCK AND WORSHIP ME!!!1!"

Then it all goes onto next year's ash pile of indifference.

An endless cycle of meaningless consumerism.

Do some of these do it for the money, or just to be a fuckin' asshole?
The PUA.

"Y'know, I'm kinda bored, kinda lonely and kinda drunk - but I wouldn't mind fucking you."

"Wow, I think you're an amazing person and would love to get to know you better."

The latter is a tarted up version of the former.

So I hurt you? Too bad. I was just taking the Temporary Boredom Cure™.
Any blog.


Yeah, stroke it harder, kiddo.


"I want a man who's tall, dark, handsome, young, great with kids, absolutely loves me to bits, gives me heaps of time and attention, and oh he needs to make six figures."

The divorce.

The doublethink.

Fuckin' amusing.

How else can a man make $150k a year and still somehow be made to feel like a loser? And all of female society agrees?

Get so drunk and hungover that you puke.

Ram your head into a wall and then puke.

There's a difference?

Oh. Yes. The second is cheaper.

So much alcohol in your blood. To have another drink, just open a vein and suck on it.
The walk of shame (that they're trying to change to the Strut of the Slut™).

As she limps home.

As she walks funny.

Are there moments of clarity?

Is there a moment where she realizes, where she decides, that God has made a friend?

Chances are she'll always be the hypocritical born-again type.
Her: "Why do you like me?"

Him: "Start with your vagina and work backwards."
Is there someone out there more alive than I am?

I haven't met them in person yet.

Another drunk who's better than me: "Unlike you, I've seen life! *hic*"
There comes a point of not giving a damn.

Freedom in it's way.

I have no time for this crap.

I'm glad. It keeps some types out of my life.
Do I look fat in this?

You only look fat when you're naked.

Are you bikini bod ready?

And she's thinking: "I am so utterly fucked..."
You know why 90% of the internet is crap.

Because 90% of what people say is crap.
The cry of the PUA.

You are not important.

You sleeping with me is important.

Rinse. Repeat.
So she's crying in her whine.

"I got a facelift. I got plastic surgery. A boob job. A butt job. I tone up 6 hours a day. All to look younger for HIM! So what happens? He divorces me and starts fucking a teenage girl young enough to be our daughter."

Like I give a damn. Go buy yourself some blue cheese to go with that.
So I should say something scathing about the idiot's with big houses, corporate jobs, etc.

Aren't I the fucking clever one?
PUAs. Women.

Eventually you start to get the feeling that she'd still be a pain in the ass - even if she wasn't insane.

Fifty shades of shit. The Story of O.

Yanking her hair. Smacking her ass. Tying her up. Putting a gag in her mouth. (Though the last one is pure mental self-defense.)

You seduce a psycho woman with great care: "So...if I agree to beat you up, will you go out with me?"

You do this voluntarily?
Having a conversation.


Other than your pathetic little problems, what else are you interested in?
So we embrace reality.

Then we meet an asshole like you.

Every time.

Too many cats.

Not enough cock.

It's not a relationship. It's a mercy-fuck.

"I love you so much, I want to make a trophy out of you."

On to the next trophy.

Being a single, middle-aged barfly is where it's at, babe.
Living in a world where the exceptional is sacrificed to the bland.

I don't know what's exceptional any more.

Do I want to be exceptional? Or do I want to do things that I enjoy?

The point where it all changes. And something moves smoother.
Eco-warriors. Eco-fucktards.

Social justice warriors. Social justice fucktards.

The razor-edge of difference.
Narcissism. The Dark Triad. The Deadly Sins.

"I'm so fucking cool, even my ex's are in awe of me!"

So we should give him/her the time of day.

Heh. Heh. Heh.
The Hangover. (The movie.)

"Hi mom and dad. I'm in Vegas, I'm really drunk, and I just got married to Jade, who's a stripper and I really love... *BEEEEP*"
You've lived for 50 years.

You've dated for 35 years.

You've been married for 10 years.

You've been divorced for 5 years.

And you still have the delusion that it's actually possible to like other people.
You're not getting fucked up the ass enough.

Time to get a job in the film industry.
She just wanted to be in the movies.

She got what she wanted.

Her stage name: Belle Starr.

She should have specified what kind of movies...
Life came along and broke him like a twig. He whines about it. Scream at the God who made you. Alright for Him, on His perch.

God promised Men that there would be good wives to be found at all corners of the Earth. Then He made the world round, and He laughed and laughed and laughed...
"We worked out for the best," she said.

The words of every lying cunt on the divorce-train.

Her dream. To be living a fabulous life.

Yeah, right. You're 50 kid.

Do those ashes of dreams still stir?
The streets have a name.

Most people are too well-mannered to speak it.
Society's idea of happiness.

When a celebrity's life goes to shit.

Then they get paid to spread their dirty laundry in the news.

The pain. The pain. The pain. What's your number? The pain.

Round and round again.

I don't need a lot to be happy. Just enough to pay the rent and enjoy a beer with my friends. I don't think that's asking for too much...




I once harbored the delusional belief that I would meet "the right people" in bars.

The Manosphere is rife with the same belief, in their search for genuinely high quality women in bars.

It took me about 3 months to realize that something was very wrong with my belief. I kept checking it out though. In 6 months I was getting pretty sure that my idea of finding a woman there was crap. In 9 months the delusion was pretty-much gone, and finally - after about 12 months - it was entirely wiped away.

Then I was directed into the Manosphere.

There I found that everybody still holds that delusion. At least, in the PUA arena - in which young and good-looking = high quality.

Now, I thought I'd end up going down the PUA track. Hell, I even tried, and had some success with it.

But I just couldn't get past the insanity.

I couldn't delude myself any more.

I couldn't get past the smell of shit - the rotten attitude - no matter how young and good-looking the girl.

Do I bother too much now?

The girl I'm currently with is no stunner. In fact, I tend to avoid stunners like the plague. Can't get past the smell of shit. Absolutely will not tolerate it.

My way or the highway. You smell of shit, you don't even make it to the "my way" and go straight to the "highway".

Heading in to Christmas time. Uncharitable thoughts.

My current girl knows the my way/highway. She pushes, in minor ways, occasionally. She knows, one middling or major slip-up and she's done. Without remorse.

It's been getting on to a year. A very stressful one for me.

She's making the bid for something more.

I'm not getting married again.

"I love you." At least she didn't trot that out too soon.

I find myself not that enthused.

Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Fuck Your Feelings

If a tree falls on you, do you think it gives a fuck about your feelings?

What about that rock?

Grow up.

Unfortunately, the crazy feminist-leftist-marxist weirdos who must bleat - at great length - about every minor bruise to their ego are incapable of growing up.

Eventually you start to grow up. Eventually you start to realize. Life is short. Your energy is limited. Your attention is limited.

Eventually they lose the only thing of value that they ever had. Then they will start whining and bitching about being neglected and they still think that they are worth paying any attention to.

While at the same time, screaming in fury that a man was in the same room that they were in. Or left the room ten minutes before she walked in. Or breathed the same fucking air that she did in the hallway.

Like I said, way back when: I don't have time for this crap. Eventually you realize it.

Friday, 4 December 2015

An Unforgiving Teacher and Friend

Didact writes with the most solid reasoning that I have yet seen in the manosphere regarding why you should lift iron: My Teacher, The Iron
This place is for the weak, so they may learn to be strong.
This place is for the strong, so they may learn to be humble.
 Go, earn your humility and strength.

Friday, 13 November 2015

Are They Morons Or Subversively Brilliant?

I was in the process of doing my little jot of Monk Mode, happy in my wee space while sorting out my life and torturing myself at the gym (especially with that bloody Ab-Wheel) -

- until I made the mistake of opening up social crapia and started vomiting in stanzas. Barf.

The latest piece of shit going around appears to be from the feminazi-leftist-fucktards who infest the world like maggots. I will insert it here, however I found it so patronizingly stupid and frustratingly juvenile and moronic that I couldn't watch more than about 30 seconds.

I strongly urge you to *NOT* watch this:
You watched that? You poor bastard. Quick, have some alcohol.

Now, all that fucking crap aside. You probably thought that this post was going to be a rant about "fucking moron asswipes, fucking idiot women should be taught not to put themselves in at-risk situations, less than 1% of men would actually commit rape, stop claiming false rape you cunts" and et-fucking-cetera.

While that lot is true - nope.

Once I recovered a bit, and relaxed for a couple days, I can't decide if the makers of this piece of shit are either morons - or subversively, ab-so-fucking-lutely, brilliant.

Because, thinking on a deeper level, you could probably not come up with a better way to absolutely piss off anyone who has:

1/ an IQ of 100+
2/ not been brainwashed to the point of death

So, is it the efforts of some mangina'd, feminazi-inspired lunacy? In which case: LOL you crazy cunts, thank you for showing your true colors!

Or, is it the efforts of some Black Knight genius? In which case: Thumbs up to you, you mad motherfucker - go hard!

It's all in the way you think about it. You decide.

PS: The best part about it, is that it's being spread by the crazy femicunts themselves. We don't need to say shit, just look at it and sneer. Simply remember to stay away from the crazy cunts who spread this "tea consent".

Thursday, 5 November 2015

PostSecret Poison #8

I'm going to take a few weeks off to relax and think once more. At the moment everything feels stale and shallow, and my writing reflects that.

Enjoy the latest PostSecret lunacy, a slice from the inside of people's secret life.
Antidepressants, no wonder she feels "empowered".
Proof still required.
A moment of clarity about a Worthless™ career.
Eat, Prey, Fuck?
How many of yours were read?
Failed celebrity attempt.
"Limited rights" my ass. Stupid bastard.
Tits. 'Nuff said.
A new twist on women's theft and shoplifting.
Wonder where she's gone looking - the local sluttery?
Back when the playmates weren't tattooed, drug-using lesbians. Still pretty-much worthless though.
"I coulda been a contenda."
Want some blue cheese to go with that sour whine?

Tuesday, 3 November 2015

Simple Sabotage

From our lovely friends in the CIA, timeless tips for "Simple Sabotage".
Worth keeping in mind as you figure out how to be creative - now go out there and enjoy your Black Knighting in this culture war between the two sexes.

Monday, 2 November 2015


And yes, I'm showing my fuckin' age.

Some is here already. Some I can smell coming.

Wednesday, 28 October 2015

A Twisted Entitlement

Russia. Russia, Russia, Russia!!!

I've always been had a great deal of skepticism regarding the so-called high-quality of Russian women. I never really explained why in depth, and I won't. I'll just provide a few glimpses from my perspective here in New Zealand:

* a pair of young Czechoslovakian girls over on a "foreign exchange program" (you can guess what they were exchanging - as a twosome)
* a Russian slut in a bar who sent up a shitload of red flags that set aaaaall the alarm-bells ringing
* a friend whose second wife was a Russian slut who took him to the cleaners
* the above friend is currently on his third wife/second Russian slut, who is sucking the life outta him (and I don't mean via his dick - it didn't take her long to get started)

In timely fashion, Didact puts up a piece about a few facts that were missing from an article on RoK. (Okay it was almost a month ago. It's taken a while for me to get around to completing this post. What the hell.)

Many times I have mentioned a video about Western men looking for girls in the Ukraine (hello Roosh, you sure know what process you started there - the quicker sluttification of teh localz - be proud). The video is by Journeyman Pictures and is titled: The Desperate Western Men Hunting For Wives In Ukraine.

Here it is again, and it's now time to rip apart the obvious entitled mental processes of these entitled whores - welcome to Odessa:

The opening scene is in a bar. These are bar girls. To be more precise: many of these girls are the local sluts (women of "loose morals") looking for a husband who doesn't know what they're like. The economy is down the shitter, alcoholism is widespread, women outnumber men almost 5 to 4, and girls as young as 18 are signing up in their hundreds to "russian bride" websites in a desperate search for a husband aka slave.

Take me away from this place, this hellhole, rich western man. I will show off my sexy body to you, take lots of provocative poses, make you believe that you can have me, even actually give myself to you, only take me away from here.

One is a 27yo divorced mommy. Hmm. Interesting. She thinks that she can compete with her younger sisters, also desperate, while she has a rugrat in tow. She tells the story of the destruction of her marriage...she's already too old for the local men...oh dear. Poor little darling. Poor, poor, pitiful me...Lord have mercy can't you see...poor, poor, pitiful me...

Go ahead. Play that sympathy card to the camera for all it's worth.

One of the local men, talking about how hard it is to find a girlfriend. "They want everything, while at the same time, give nothing in return." My, my, where have we heard that before?

These internet sites also organize "romance tours". I will say it: sex tourism. Tell these lovely young things that you're looking for a wife, though of course you have to try the merchandise first...lo...she parts her legs for you. Who is desperate here? Check out the catalog, Russian-speaking tour reps will arrange dates for them. (Hold on tight, we're not 5 minutes into the video yet!)

I particularly like 65yo Arthur: "It's like purchasing a very nice, used Cadillac. It's nice, but it's used. I tell them I need to drive it before I make a decision about taking it home and putting it in my garage. If she was a virgin that'd be different, but I don't think they make them any more. So I need to test-drive 'em. And as I tell them, they need to test-drive me - I'm an old man and might not do the job for 'em."

What does this army of waiting women seek?
Woman: "I want to meet a handsome young man."
So long as he makes six figures - which he must, if he's spending $3,500 on a romance sex tour.
Woman: "I just want to use every opportunity I get to try and meet the right person."
Playin' the field.
Mother: "Men in Nikolaev like drinking too much. Beer flows like a river in Nikolaev. They like fighting and when they marry sometimes they hit their wives. That's why girls like foreigners because they are kind and attentive."
Daughter: "Well, I think that mum's right, but all the same...I don't know. I guess there are decent men in Nikolaev. But it is very difficult to find a boyfriend there because mum's right when she says there are more girls than men in Nikolaev. To be honest, I'm probably too young to really understand everything that's going on here."
Narrator: "Have you ever had a serious relationship?"
Daughter: "No."
Even so - I'll bet that she opened her legs to several men. Looking for a kind, gentle man...who she can be a parasite on.

Music too loud for conversation - go up and dance girls! Just look at that body...just look at that body...

And now, we get to the entitled bitch having a whine (at 25:10):
For me it was very unpleasant. Sitting down and a man walks past with a beer glass in his hands and examines all the girls. Standing opposite the table and examining each girl in turn. It's very unpleasant. It seems to me it's just bad manners. Or maybe it's because they see there are a lot of beautiful girls and that it's okay.
In actual fact it's not. It's not okay and it's very unpleasant. It seems to me that the majority came here not for a wife, but for sex tourism. It's obvious. Very poor city. They think we are all poor, so unhappy that we will agree to anything. But that's not the case.
I feel upset for our girls because, as I've already said, not the best men come. It's very upsetting when an intelligent, beautiful and independent girl cannot find a man here and has no alternative but to look for men at these kind of events.
Of course, there's a percentage that do find their man here, but it's a very small number.
How hard is it to dissect that lot? Seriously:

* she found it unpleasant = want some blue cheese to go with that whine?
* she figures it's for sex tourism = hello Captain Obvious!
* she figures the men are only there because it's a very poor city = yep, girls with real options don't even think about chasing foreign men
* not the best men come = likewise men with real options don't bother going there for a wife, just some nookie cookie
* intelligent, beautiful and independent girl = is there a reason why someone would want a foreign version of a western woman?
* there's a percentage that do find their men here = she's upset because she's not one of them

The twisted entitlement of the female mind - the same everywhere you go.

What more did you expect?

Friday, 23 October 2015

Comments From Married Men

I keep meaning to put this up, and keep forgetting. It's from the MGTOW website:

Comments from Married Men

Everything there, in a nutshell, no frills. A big thank-you to the Men at /r/MGTOW for reminding me of it.

I also need to re-read Nietzsche, with my current mindset and outlook and experiences of life. I have very vague thoughts that we MGTOW are Men in the midst of the second stage of becoming Ubermensch - of learning to say "No".

Wednesday, 21 October 2015


Over on Dalrock's place, he has a post up about a woman who lost her best friend:
On Saturday new commenter Constance left a heartbreaking comment on a post I wrote back in 2010:
My ex husband and I had a mutual divorce 5 years ago and I’m still not over it. It hurts every single day. There was no cheating, just a long period of separation and drifting apart. I suffer from depression, so that also contributed. Now, he has moved on, but I can’t and don’t know if I ever will. I still love and miss him. Always will. I deeply regret the divorce and I feel like I had amnesia and trying to find my life back. But, the wall is thick and tall. Feels like a living nightmare that is inescapable. I dream of trying to find him, but he can’t be reached. I can’t find any peace in my life. Drowning with sorrow and anger. Angry at my depression. Angry at the demise of a marriage to the only man I will ever love.
The eternal paean whine of the predator who mindlessly let the best thing she ever had...go. Dalrock continues his post:
Constance, the former blogger referenced above, and millions of other divorced women with similar heartbreaking stories show the absolute cruelty of those who either directly sell divorce or sell the benefit of threats of divorce to unhappy wives.
I will admit, this makes my head ache.


She did it to herself.

Now she whines about it.

Now she gains sympathy from the readers of her story.

Now Dalrock puts up a post about her. Her, specifically.

"Heartbreaking." Twice. "Heartbreaking."

She is validated. She has attention. She has been gifted with sympathy - hallelujah! - her existence now has meaning! For a brief and sparkling moment the shooting star flares...

...before the ash-grey depression sets in again. (Supposedly 1 in 4 American women take antidepressants. That's just the ones who are diagnosed and who can afford them. Perhaps this one was missed?)

Why, Dalrock? I'm not trying to give you shit about it. I simply wonder: why give her your attention?

Why give her your sympathy?

I know you've been writing about those who prey upon the unthinkingly and dully bored women who apathetically destroy their marriages at the prodding of the greedy. In my view those greedy pieces of shit should be put in the stocks and rotten eggs thrown at them. Hung, drawn and quartered. Beheaded.

They are parasites upon the parasites, encouraging worse and worse behavior for their own profit. Never mind the destruction of society that their siren lure of Feminism's hope - "you can have it all!" - brings to this world.

Yet. Still. I am forcefully reminded of Florence Nightingale (from the Wikipedia entry):
In one sense, I do believe I am "like a man," as Parthe [the writer's sister] says. But how? In having sympathy. … Women crave for being loved, not for loving. They scream out at you for sympathy all day long, they are incapable of giving any in return, for they cannot remember your affairs long enough to do so. [Emphasis mine. - BPS] … They cannot state a fact accurately to another, nor can that other attend to it accurately enough for it to become information. Now is not all this the result of want of sympathy?
Letter to Madame Mohl (13 December 1861)
This is no world for men. In women's minds, all men are disposable.

We exist only to give her what she wants in the moment.

"Listen to me. Give me your sympathy. Poor, poor, pitiful me..."
At the best, they are pleasant diversions - at the worst, very unpleasant distractions. Because the world doesn't run on her feeeelings: it runs on blood, sweat and diesel.

Mine. Yours. Other men's. This is where the Crap Colored Glasses™ came from. Hear the yap-yap-yap long enough...hear variation upon variation of the same old greedy and unthinking story...until finally you snap...


You know the lies, the manipulations, the spin, the self-seeking, the narcissism, the inane, the insane. We all do, in this wretched wasteland of the interwebs.

We're not soulless. We're not heartless.

We've simply heard it before. Endlessly, endlessly...

Cut, razored, flayed, over and over and over.

We become a mass of keloid tissue. Stripe on slice over cut, crosshatched with scars, calluses that you couldn't hammer a nail through.

Until we are unmoved.

Heartbreaking? The only thing that is heartbreaking about this situation is that we Men were foolish enough to gift these women with a rope by which to hang themselves until dead.

Their death is ours.

And we cannot take that rope back.


One of my girlfriends, once upon a time:

Her: Do you think you'll ever fall in love again?

Me: No. That part seems to be broken.

Her: Can you fix that?

Me: I don't know how.

Not completely heartless and soulless.

Monday, 19 October 2015

And Now For Something Completely Different

Guaranteed to enrage feminists, leftists, manginas, SJW/GamerGate pussies, and other assorted White Knighting motherfuckers. Hold on to your nuts.

Every now and then FaceCrap actually comes up with something truly humorous. In this case, a link to an auction running on TradeMe. I fully-expect this guy's FaceCrap feed to be deleted over this, and his TradeMe account as well. Fuck it, it's brilliant.

First the title and pictures:
Highlights include:

* Wimmin! Never marry anything else
* The Kitchen Version
* And no, you cannot edit their boobs in the player editor. That would be just sexist.
* The dog-shit

Now the blurb:
In your face, Electronic Arts!

'Allo Bruce, 'ow the fuck areya?

Now the three pictures:
I don't think I'll ever get tired of that bit about not being able to edit their boobs in the player editor. Fucking-aye I'm juvenile.
This game is The Shit.
Was that why you sold your soul to Electronic Arts? Too bad, so sad, never fuckin' mind.

There you have it, tonight's black humor. Ain't it refreshing to know that there are still Men out there?

Monday, 12 October 2015

Neil Strauss Latest Update

So it seems that Neil Strauss of "The Game" fame is also busy reinventing himself. Hello Roosh, you got some competition in your quest to make "better" men to man-up for teh wimminz. I'm still curious about where you expect the worthwhile women for these men to come from.

As I've written before, PUA Is Broken. Nothing has changed my mind about that. In fact, if anything, the entire anti-MGTOW brouhaha just reinforces it: yanking out the feminist boilerplate shaming language shows the feminine-oriented mindset behind those who open their mouths and take a blast at the MGTOW. Dick In Pussy is still the end-all be-all validation that they seek.

So lets go see what Neil Strauss is up to, in his quest to "reinvent" himself. This is an interview in The Guardian:
While waiting for his drink, Strauss falls into conversation with a group that includes two middle-aged tourists and a young woman. The woman is in her 20s – tanned, blond, wearing denim short-shorts. Game-klaxon! I watch to see how Strauss will react to her, only he doesn’t. He chats with the tourists, about nothing much. Then he chats with her, about nothing much. And then he walks away.
“The old me would have been performing everything for her attraction,” Strauss says when we’re out of earshot. “Thinking of sex with her. Or how to lure her away from her boyfriend, what have you. Even in, like, a work meeting – if there was a woman in that meeting, everything I said was for her, to get her phone number afterwards.”
And now?
“I’m attracted to people, sometimes. But I think that part of my brain was trained for years. Constantly, wherever I went, whenever I walked into a room, these little lights would go on on a switchboard in my head.” The switchboard is still there, he says, only now anyone can illuminate it; anyone interesting. “I can relate to people on a human level.”
So it seems like he's gone from "robotic skirt-chaser" to "semi-aware human being". I'll provisionally accept that, with a kilo or two of healthy skepticism. So here we have the first time he went into rehab:
Around 2010, he met and fell in love with a Mexican-born model named Ingrid De La O. She was perfect, Strauss thought, their relationship together “the best I’d ever had”. Yet he found he couldn’t stop pursuing other women and cheating on Ingrid. When she learned about the cruellest of his infidelities (her best friend, a church car park), Ingrid agreed to forgive Strauss only on the condition he be treated for sex addiction. So he entered rehab for three months. Here his problems really began.
By opening up his psyche to trained therapists for the first time, Strauss learned he had quite an assortment of mental and emotional conditions. In short order, he was diagnosed with anxiety syndrome, depressive disorder, two forms of sexual disorder and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. “It was like a hammer hitting me on the head,” he says. “I really thought I was normal.”
Hmm. No duh. So it looks like The Rawness was 100% accurate in his assessment of Neil Strauss and Mystery and PUAs in general. It's very interesting to know that. Let's now look at the second time he went into rehab (an excerpt from his book "The Truth"):
The day I went to sex therapy: an extract from The Truth, by Neil Strauss
"What are you here for?" the nurse asks me.
She says nothing. I think about that word. It sounds lame. I’m in a hospital because I couldn’t say no. So I add the other reason I’m there: "And, I guess, to learn how to have a healthy relationship."
I think of Ingrid, whose heart I broke, whose friends threatened to kill me. The nurse looks up. It is the first time she’s made eye contact. She smiles sympathetically and continues looking through my intake folder. I ask if she thinks I’m really an addict. "I’m not an addiction specialist," she says. "But if you’re cheating on your relationship, if you’re visiting porn sites, or if you’re masturbating, that’s sex addiction."
She opens a drawer, removes a red square of paper, and writes my first name and last initial on it in black marker. Then she slips it into a small plastic sleeve and loops a long piece of white string through it. "You’re in red two," she says. "You’re required to wear your badge at all times."
"What does red two mean?"
"The tags are colour-coded. Red is for sex addicts. And the red two group is in therapy with Joan." She then picks up a large poster board from the floor and holds it on top of the desk, facing me. There are eight huge words on it: Joy, Pain, Love, Anger, Passion, Fear, Guilt, Shame.
"This is called a check-in," she says. "You’ll be required to check in four times a day and report which emotions you’re feeling. Which ones are you experiencing right now?"
I scan the display for crawling dread, for utter worthlessness, for total confusion, for intense regret, for rule-hating frustration. "Anger." She types it into my file. I am now officially institutionalised.
I feel another emotion coming on. "What’s the difference between guilt and shame?" I ask.
"Guilt is just about your behaviour. Shame is about who you are."
She leads me back to the reception desk, where I see a woman with her arm in a blue fibreglass cast being led out of a nursing station: another new arrival. She has pasty skin, blue-black hair, lots of piercings and the look of a vampire. I’m instantly attracted.
From the other direction, a woman with long blond hair pouring out of a pink baseball cap saunters to the reception desk. I think what I always think, what every man always thinks: what was puberty for if not to think these thoughts?
"What are you here for?" I ask the blonde. Her tag is blue. "Love addiction," she replies.
Perfect. I ask if she wants to get dinner.
Check-in emotion: guilt. Also, passion.
Well, well, well. Three holes in the ground.
She says nothing. I think about that word. It sounds lame. I’m in a hospital because I couldn’t say no. So I add the other reason I’m there: "And, I guess, to learn how to have a healthy relationship."
Weakness exposed. This is not any form of Alpha as espoused by the PUA section of the manosphere. This is someone amplifying and explaining - excusing! - himself. To a woman.

Nothing quite sells like public abasement of the famous, does it? Though maybe that's just my cynicism speaking. Still, it's a good start to rake in more $$$$. We'll leave it at that and see what happens - though admittedly it looks very much like Strauss has manned-up and swallowed the entire spectrum of mainstream "women can do no wrong" philosophy.
"I’m not an addiction specialist," she says. "But if you’re cheating on your relationship, if you’re visiting porn sites, or if you’re masturbating, that’s sex addiction."
Now, I sincerely wonder if a professional nurse would say something like that. It's not her place to casually toss out such value-judgements. Leave it to the specialists.

However, if she had actually said that - it speaks volumes. Volumes to her sense of feeling entitled to pass on such value judgements. Especially when she's not a specialist in the area involved. She's merely throwing out a personal opinion, in a way potentially damaging to a patient.

Deeply unprofessional.

To dissect this more, reaching deep into the feminine-centric viewpoint which (this admittedly anecdotal nurse) exposes:

* if you're cheating on your relationship
* if you're visiting porn sites
* if you're masturbating

These three things are considered sex-addiction.


If you're cheating on your relationship, that's not a "sex addiction". That's just cheating on your relationship. The most that you could say is that it's morally reprehensible for both sexes, if you've effectively gotten married. (Ignoring the whole "Marriage 2.0 is no longer enforceable" and "it's okay for women to cheat but not men" blah blah that many of us in the manosphere know starkly.)

If you're visiting porn sites, that's not a "sex addiction". That's just being horny and wanting some mental stimulation. Again, the most that you could say is that it's morally reprehensible for both sexes. (Assuming that you buy in to the bushwah about "this is your brain, this is your brain on porn, any questions?" crapola going on out there.)

If you're masturbating, that's not a "sex addiction". That's just taking care of a momentarily-overwhelming physical urge. (The whole hookup culture is just mutual masturbation with another person's body.)

Take any or all to extremes? In conjunction? I would buy that. However, that was not mentioned. The impression is that it was merely thrown out as an "all of these things are automatically bad", whether individually and to whatever degree.

So why did this (anecdotal nurse) label these as "sex addiction"?

Might it be because they bypass anything involving the actual emotional and physical support of a woman?

And there's the feminine-centric outlook.

I might be really reaching - extrapolating way too far - yet I get the subtext from this little bit of writing of what this (anecdotal nurse) said: "(All men should be utterly sexless. (Except the ones who turn me on.))"

Are you willing to become someone's sexless slave?
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Sunday, 11 October 2015

Women's Whinging Starts Early

This is something that mankind has known for some time (thousands upon thousands of years):

* women are never happy
* women always want more
* women think the world revolves around them
* women always whinge until they get what they want (for the moment)

Unfortunately we men have recently (over the last two-three generations) been brainwashed out of understanding these basic and easily-observable truths. These truths have been replaced with such things as:

* sugar and spice...
* happy wife, happy life...
* she's the better half...
* she can do no wrong...

Blah, blah, ad fucking nauseum. Replacing the "politically incorrect" aka truth that paints women in a bad light (you misogynist pig!) with the "politically correct" aka ten tons of bullshit that allow her to get away with murder (literally...but she's so cuuuuute!).

Thankfully it doesn't take too much kicking in the balls for men to start realizing the lies that they've been told. (Hopefully not too much, anyway.) After you've had your name splattered with lying mud multiple times, been dragged through the rape-court/domestic abuse court/divorce court - you generally start getting a fuckin' clue.

That's assuming that you're not a hopeless case. Which some men really are that fuckin' clueless. That's another story though, and a sad case by itself.

Any rate, sometimes you get to see just how early these little parasites start their whining. Case in point today: early teens.

Teenage twat: Whinge whine whinge shopping whinge whine whinge...

Mother twat: It's not my fault that there wasn't anything you wanted to buy.

Teenage twat: Whinge whine whinge shopping whinge whine whinge...

Thankfully they then passed out of earshot.

One instructive thing about it though: women are just as susceptible to women's whinging. Case in point, mommy twat's response: defensive, blah blah blah. The correct response is: "Shut your whining mouth."

Brought to you by Crap Colored Glasses™, only $1k the pair and cheap at 10x the price.

PostSecret Poison #8

Once more into the cesspool dear friends, once more into the cesspool (apologies to Lawrence of Arabia):
I can't figure if a guy pining for the wife, or a girl pining for the husband. Either way, someone has unresolved issues. AKA is fucked in the head/emotions pretty damn bad.
Drug money, stripper money, whore money - alla same and all destructive.
Sand-crotch spinster.
Creepy cutters.
This is why you fail, woman.
Lap up that fuckin' pap psychology.
My fists are itching. Why are my fists itching?
The milk of Christian kindness is rancid in this one.
A woman in lust. Not uncommon.
Another creepy cutter.
A typical woman's complaining. Easier to whine and wait for some moron to sweep her off her feet, than to go do something herself.
That is one creepy-ass picture.
More pap psychology for someone filled with the rancid milk of Christian kindness.
Alpha widow or zeta male?
Men (or boys) are disposable and need not apply.
Too late, you already wasted your life on a stupid and pretentious degree. Just as Worthless™ as you and your life will be from now until death.
Pretend fantasies or pretend submission? Go read My Secret Garden and keep on submitting.
And women never cry rape? Like the Boy Who (Never) Cried Wolf?

Brought to you by Crap Colored Glasses™, only $1k the pair and cheap at 10x the price.

Saturday, 10 October 2015

Symptoms of Social Decline

So, a couple days ago I'm walking into the local Countdown (a grocery store in NZ). Just your standard shopping-trip. What do I see walking in front of me?

Pleasingly slim shape. Decent clothing. Hair with the "just washed" look that is either gaining traction again or I dunno fuckin' what - maybe she was just being a slob and had just washed it.


Instant thought: "Skank."

Yeah, you definitely want to put a ring on that slob.

During the past winter: people letting their kids run around barefoot. Rain, crap on the ground, never mind kid - go running around barefoot.

Go walking into the grocery store in your onesies. Dressing gown with slippers and shit. The "people of Wal-Mart" theme got nothing on these fuckers - unbe-fucking-lievable. Unbelievable. Whole family wandering in. Sloppy as fuck every one.

Yeah, you definitely want to put a ring on that slob.

Speaking of putting a ring on it, I have written before about various dancers. In particular one who:

* on at least two occasions tried the "I got pregnant and miscarried and it's all his fault" theme
* put spyware on her boyfriend's phone
* got a restraining order against him for "beating her up"
* who later confessed to all her friends that she had been lying
* who still got full support from her friends

Some desperate fuckwit put a ring on that. Seriously, a big ole diamond ring, probably worth a good ten grand. She's been flashing it around everywhere, out on an expensive wedding trip overseas, flash-flash-flashflashflash. Livin' the dream of livin' life large.

Fuck you are desperate mate. Heheh.

So much shit in this world. So much fuckin' stupidity. While the zombies go walkin' around, unaware of the idiocy goin' on around them and in their heads.
Brought to you by Crap Colored Glasses™, only $1k the pair and cheap at 10x the price.

Wednesday, 30 September 2015

First World Twats

This is an oldie from a while back. Some SJW twat having a period about people who paint and hide eggs for the kiddies to find at Easter (generally an American thing):
Make sure to boil those babies alive first. Ignore the screams - that's just escaping air.
So let's look at what's going to come next, in this edition of the "life is stranger than fiction" department:

• trees will have the right to not be cut down
• grass will have the right to not be stepped on
• water will have the right to not be drunk
• air will have the right to not be breathed

The sooner these pussy-cunt first-world SJW morons are punched in the face, the better. They make my fists ache.

Tuesday, 29 September 2015

PostSecret Poison #7

This week's theme: "life is stranger than the weirdest fiction". Let's begin.
Though if men weren't constrained by society there'd be fucking in the streets.
MGTOW. You are only "broken" in the eyes of the herd, who have their own comeuppance coming down the line.
As Uncle Bob has said: "Women want license."
Wild guess, you broke up with your hubby and your man in the wings suddenly didn't want you no more?
There are better-looking girls to have lesbian fantasies about.

Hairpiece, schmairpiece.
Suspicious mind some girls have. Yeah I'm picking it's a girl. Men aren't generally this nasty-pathetic-aggressive.
I can't quite tell if this is someone pining for a life they failed to aim for. Or a secret Internet fatty.
Trust me. It's always the boobs. Even in women's minds.
Typical. Creepy. Fetishist.
Single mommy's child.
You're very forgettable.
This is news?
Because as a society we are all that screwed up socially and emotionally.
A good dose of "get over it" is needed here. Or you could, you know, divorce your bitch and shack up with her sister. Or just have her sister as a bit on the side. I mean, there's lots of options.
Never mind Math being teh hard, even Law is too hard. And not teh glamorous.
Fucktoy pining for the unattainable. Thought-experiment: Would she be so crushed if he was a pretty-boy who was secretly gay - and fantasising about fucking another man?

Brought to you by Crap Colored Glasses™, only $1k the pair and cheap at 10x the price.