Yet another "lure" to draw us back to the plantation. Beloved of the brainwashed, those who believe in twue wuv and mawwaige - rather than blood, sweat and diesel. (And a $20k diamond ring coupled with a $50k ceremony and holiday.)
Perfect™ for those who will *not* examine reality with any form of thought and willingness to examine things critically. (Protip: skip the lot and go on holiday yourself. You'll save an easy $65k - and your life.)
I see nothing worth chasing. Nothing at all. An empty shell, a mask, a hollowed-out body-shape around an endlessly sucking void.
Is there a woman out there as alive as I am? If so, I haven't met her yet.
To be fair, most men that I've met are just as dead inside. In that way, they match the women that are around.
The eyes are the window to the soul. The Sermon on the Mount, Christ taught that the eyes were the light of the soul.
Malocchio. The Evil Eye. Did you ever wonder where the Italians got that concept from?
When Rome fell, did they learn? Through their own world of pain? They had MGTOW and a Bachelor Tax back then. Men paid. It was better than the other options.
This is the parade of the modern empowered wimminz. Not the soft glide of what I will call the Warmly Alive™. The full-on cold, jerking, brazen Strut of the Slut™.
Cold, dead eyes. There are a lot of them.
That Dawn Maslar creature looks transpiciously masculine.ReplyDelete
She's a fairly typical 52yo post-wall "expert" wimminz who wrote about her experiences with dating the wrong men. AKA a quasi-nerdy twat who so far as I can tell has no hubby, no family, had a career as a teacher/professor/biologist, and thinks herself qualified to teach peeps about things that she failed miserably with.Delete
She hocks a lot of the cheapass cutesy shit that teh wimminz luvluvluv to pester aka nag their slave-men to buy. The usual cutesy dogshit like crystal bracelets (indigogo), a saliva-based "devotion test" for wimminz to test on their slave-men (actual website), soap, some oil paintings she did of naked chicks, et-fucking-cetera. (Butch dyke alert?)
An extreme modern fuckwit wimminz making the best of what she's got left of her life. Let the (stupid blonde) chips fall as they may.