Bleak and Nasty Realization

It's a pissing-down raining night here in the North Island of New Zealand. A Tuesday night in the middle of winter, to be precise.

I don't mind. I'm sitting here, warm and dry. Been reading...don't feel like sleep yet...am writing...I probably should grab myself a margarita, actually.

Actually...

Mmmm margarita.

I think of all the pathetic girls out there. Down the bars...doing "their thing" in life...Imma strawng, innipendant wimminz! Why can't I find a maaaaaan!

All the squares dress like whores. All the whores dress like squares. You can't tell the difference any more. If there is a fucking difference. Tattoo'd and pierced sluts out the wazoo...fucking nose-rings that look like snot...

Why the fuck are you dressed like a $2 whore and shivering out in the rain and cold and blowing icy winds in the middle of winter? Ya fuckin' dumbass fuckin' sheep.

Too stupid to get her own shit together. Too stupid to build up stuff - like buying a decent bed and some good winter sheets and an electric blanket so she can be toasty warm at night. Running around freezing her tits off, trying to get a man - to keep her warm and cared for, physically and financially and (temporarily) emotionally.

Too fuckin' stupid to realize that the pay-gap is a fuckin' myth, she makes more'n a good number of men do, and she pisses it all away trying to dress up so that she can scam a man outta drinks and the occasional fuck. With maybe the prize of getting preggers (child support!) and frivorce (cash and more prizes!).

I'm reminded of a Tinder whore I ran across a couple days back. She was 19, up on her Tinder profile she had: "I want to marry rich."

Oha. Really rich. I had to laugh. Like a rich man is gonna pick up some 19yo slut off Tinder and marry her LOLOL. Yeah right, she has a better chance of becoming a Dubai Porta Potty. Like he's gonna risk, in the slightest, any chance whatsoever of frivorce or a false rape accusation.

She ain't in his league. She ain't even gonna meet him. Not a fucking hope in hell.

Though I'll give her props for being an honest golddigger - even if a fucking stupid one. She don't have the common-sense and smarts make it this far, by far:

Just another stupid cunt, living in stupid-land, expecting her Prince fucking Charming to come along and woo her and slap a $10+k diamond ring on her fuckin' finger. Though some people are just so desperate, that they'd do it.

I'm bored. Bored outta my fucking tree, when it comes to wimminz.

Do they actually have any interests of their own? I can only remember two woman who did: scrapbooking (she only did it 'cause of the kidlets, making memories and stuff for 'em). Plus some serious fitness fanatic (which I can make a damn good argument is so she could pick up a man).

The rest are all: I'm bored. Entertain me.

No. I'm bored with you lot of morons. I'm gonna go entertain myself, do something that I find interesting and ultimately more personally fulfilling. Plus I'll have something worthwhile left at the end of it. A skill. A piece of artwork. A restored piece of furniture. (One of my fun things is to restore 100yo furniture - my home looks like a bloody antique shop.)

I honestly wonder how the PUA's can handle this female shit. Having to clown around to basically get some dipshits' attention...having to invite her out to do stuff that she might consider interesting...or more accurately: having to entertain the whore so that you can maybe dump a fuck into her.

To hell with it. As always, picking up these lumps of stupid becomes boring after a while. Even fucking them becomes boring. (Then you get the dead-fish and sand-bucket cunt types - yikes!)

Shit on it. I'm'a do my own thing. MGTOW...again, as always. Until I start feeling horny again, though at 50 years old you'd think my fuckin' testosterone would have slowed down by now. Somehow, it hasn't - one day I should look at the statistics for sex for older men, it's probably way higher than society is comfortable admitting.

My photography archive is completed. Right now it's getting transferred from my NAS to a USB3 external drive. I have 4:3:2 copies as backups: a step up from the old 3:2:1 plus I can't be arsed trying to transfer from PC to some dipshit place out in the cloud. Apart from having tracked a hacker back to a compromised server at a cloud-provider, NZ's internet infrastructure is a piece of shite and it'd take a week-plus to finish.

If it wasn't shite weather and short days, I'd be out the back yard pruning the grapevine and dealing to my overgrown garden. (Damn kaikuia.) I've actually got a place that a wimminz would love-love-love to sink her claws into...it's a throwback to the old 50's dreams of family life. She could enjoy its comforts, with her man-slave doing all the work both before and after the frivorce.

Yeah, fuck that. Away from teh wimminz again. MGTOW yet again...a cycle of boredom and horniness. Even though I've done the economics analysis, and a whore is cheaper, I tend to have problems with fucking whores. Just ain't as satisfying.

It's probably an emotional addiction of some sort. I'd best start working on that. At my age, it's not worth it to even partially fuck around with these whores. Especially when you're worth over the half-million mark. Pretty good given that I had about $20-30k left over from my frivorce, about 5 years ago.

In a way, the Tinder whore up there was a wakeup. I realized "holy shit, I'm actually a rich guy". Amusing, given that I'd been basically feeling "poor" for so long. That's what happens when she spends more'n she brings in. Go for 8 years of marriage feeling poor, to suddenly realizing that after 5 years of enjoying yourself after frivorce - you're fuckin' rich.

Actually fuckin' rich.

A wakeup.

The fuckin' paygap is a myth. She fuckin' wastes stuff like it's goin' outta fashion. Pissing it away, expecting - demanding! - some loser male to give her more. His time and his money. So she can piss both of those away too.

And I am actually fuckin' rich, after all that BPD/NPD and being cheated on and frivorce shit. Even after the biz went down the shitter and I became an em-ploy-ee. My brother's done better. He focused on making money.

Some golddigger would love to get her fuckin' claws into me or him, one way or another. Must protect myself better. Him too.

Margarita gone. After midnight. Time to go sleep in a warm and sheltered bed with the electric blanket.

Got to love some of the creature comforts in life. It's what men do: accumulate and build. Enhance our lives in many ways.

Good night, good life, my brothers.

Equality!

This is what I've never grasped about women, wimminz, feminazi's, et-fucking-cetera.

Equality! We want equality! EQUALITY!!!!

So they can feel all empowered and shit.

A question though:

You really, REALLY want to be doing 36 fucking hours of straight work?

Really?

You're barking fucking mad, the lot of you!

Get back in the kitchen and learn to be a decent housewife. It's a fuck-sight easier.

#womenbarkingmad

We Live In Hell

Do you like the life that you live?

I don't.

Shortly after birth, the world was a magical place. It was to be explored, examined, absorbed, learned about, romped in, lazed in. A truly joyous time of life spent outside examining nature and the world.

Then when I was young, from 4 1/2 to 16, I went to school (when I was young in Australia, schooling started at 4 1/2 rather than 5 years old). Being conditioned from 9am to 4pm to sit still, pay attention to repetitive and boring talks by an adult, to go obsessively over and over letters and numbers until they are perfect. Sitting in a hard seat, behind a wooden desk, learning to block out discomfort, learning to ignore the bright sun or wet weather outside.

Learning to take the ruler over the knuckles, the leather strap on the hand, the switch around the arse or legs, every time I did something which didn't fit the arbitrary rules of the classroom. Learning to become voluntarily autistic as I was forced to rote-memorize and absorb things that I would end up never using in real-life.

Then I left school and went out to work as a man.

Instead of spending 6 hours in a room, I am now forced to spend 8 hours (8am to 5pm less lunch break) plus whatever travel-time might be involved (uncompensated). That's the minimum - it might be as much as 12-16 hours, depending upon the work and how demanding it happens to be, either occasionally or continually. I might not get a lunch break, having to work 9 hours right through at my desk.

The days (or nights) might still only be 5 a week, yet they might also become as many as 7 a week. If on call I can be called out arbitrarily when an issue arises. I might be called out arbitrarily anyway. The number of weeks worked in a year rises to more than the number of weeks attending school. Two jobs may be required, the second one being taxed at a higher rate than the first, for the "privilege" of earning enough to keep myself going.

Sitting in a hard seat, behind a wooden desk, blocking out discomfort, ignoring the bright sun or wet weather outside. Shrinking inside whenever a task that I was assigned is deemed inadequate by the so-called managers who know less than I do, yet held arbitrary power over my work-life, capable of hiring or firing me if they deem that I am inadequate to fill out some nebulous role, paying me a pittance for the privilege of draining my personal energy and stunting my ongoing life and joy and creativity.

I then take my pittance home with me, clutched tightly in my fist. With that I must provide myself with food, clothing, and shelter. Anything left over, I am socially pressured to use in an attempt to lure a (predatory) wife into my life. Once a wife has been acquired, my leftover pittance goes to providing a better home, better clothing, better food, luxurious surroundings, "experiences", upgrades or replacements to each of these, plus raising children - to send to school in their turn.

Experiences that my pittance is expected to provide include travel and food and drink and entertainments and sightseeing. Getting to see the beauties of nature. Enjoying surroundings which are beautiful, natural, provide luxury, etc. Going to movies, stage shows, etc. This stretches my pittance - yet there is more. I must also accumulate, so that I can provide an exceptional two-to-four weeks a year of a more expensive experience.

So by performing arbitrary work for 48-50 weeks a year, I manage to accumulate enough money to expensively provide an experience for 2+ people. Sometimes this experience involves going out to "connect" with nature. Something which I have been arbitrarily, deliberately, and unilaterally disconnected from since 4 1/2 years old.

Should my work-performance be deemed inadequate, I must then find another place to work. This frantic search will likely be hindered by my wife, discontented that suddenly there is not even a pittance to provide the minimums of ease and luxury to which she has become accustomed. If another place of work is not found within a reasonable (short) time-period, my wife will likely leave.

Alternatively, even though my work should continue at a good rate, my wife can suddenly become discontented for no real reason. Many accusations and aggravations will be thrown in my direction, often including threatened and even actual physical harm - which I cannot prevent nor retaliate against. Eventually my wife will likely leave. (Note that this is also likely to cause work-performance issues.)

Either form of leaving includes: taking the children with her, taking at least half of what my pittance has managed to accumulate, and forcing me to attend a "hall of justice". In this hall of justice I am castigated repeatedly and then forced upon threat of incarceration to provide a certain minimum amount of money in the form of "upkeep" for my children and my former wife.

The hall of justice may even arbitrarily hand over the house to my former wife (far more than half of what my pittance has accumulated). If the house is not yet paid for, I will also be forced to continue the ongoing payments for the house (remember the threat of incarceration). Even though I am not living in said house, I must provide it for my former wife and our children - plus more of my pittance for things required for schooling of our children - and then must manage to provide accommodation and food and clothing for myself.

Assuming that my wife does not become discontented, eventually our children will leave the home. The house may or may not become "downsized". Probably not, since the space will be required for when our children bring their children over to visit/stay for a time. So we are forced to maintain a space which is far larger than what we really need to live in.

My pittance must accumulate even more. Because soon, I will be deemed "too old" for my work to have any real value. At this point my accumulated pittance must keep my wife and myself alive for another 2-3 decades. If my accumulated pittance is insufficient then I must find other, less-fulfilling work to bring in another pittance, ongoing until the moment of my death.

Even if my accumulated pittance is sufficient then I might find myself restless without "meaningful" work to do - no surprise after 60+ years of conditioning. I might voluntarily do work, often make-work, perhaps something that the younger generations still require for a time yet no longer have the skill to manage. I might attempt to reconnect to nature in the form of gardening - after 60+ years of being disconnected from it. I might still be expected to provide expensive experiences.

All this, a lifetime of effort, of (in)voluntary slavery to others, for the "reward" of being put aside as now being worthless, being looked upon condescendingly by the younger generation. A younger generation who sneer at me as being irrelevant, my accumulated knowledge and wisdom ignored, as they walk lockstep into the same restricted life that I have (in)voluntarily lived.

Mephistophilis to Faust: Why this is hell, nor am I out of it.

Interchangeable and Society

Hold on tight, this'll make teh wimminz cry cry cry...

The PUAs make a big thing about pussy being an easily-found commodity.

Yep. They're all interchangeable.

Looked at coldly, it doesn't matter what the details of the woman are. When it comes to childbirth: a womb and pussy are a womb and pussy. It doesn't matter if she's some high-falutin' English heiress to 15 million pounds or some used-up crack-whore or some cute-ish Filipino or Thai chick who's burned her social bridges locally and wants a stupid Western man to wife her up. It's just another womb and pussy that pushes out a kid, ain't like that hasn't happened anytime in the past million-year history of the human species.

As Uncle Mitch once put it: The world has no end of warm wet holes and mouths.

Which is what makes me laugh when some single mommy states that her kids come first, when she's demonstrably going down on some new cock every week.

What's best for your kids: a) having a reliable man around, b) having unreliable or no men around

What's the best way to keep a man around: 1) putting him first, 2) putting your kids first

Stupid. Whore.

Conversely of course, cocks are an easily-found commodity. A cock is a cock is a cock. Which mindset teh single mommy wimminz have shown through their actions for quite some years, as they sample a variety of cock in their quest to "find themselves". (Which is wimminz-code for stuffing as much cock into all three orifices as possible - can you say "airtight"?)

Looked at coldly, it doesn't matter what the details of the man are. When it comes to conception: a cock is a cock is a cock, and evolutionarily may the best sperm win (see "Sperm Wars").

Now survival-wise for the woman and kiddies it's a slightly different matter. Using manosphere terms, Chad Thundercock has the best sperm while Bob the Builder has the reliability and nouse and therefore the money to keep body and soul together through his steady work. So we get to the concept of "Alpha Fucks and Beta Bucks", and our current socially-acceptable state of single mommies out the wazoo until they find someone to wife them up and keep them going for their final years (which has its own problems when she recalls her glory-days with Chad Thundercock and becomes discontented...)

So part of "The Red Pill" is swallowing the fact that men are disposable (interchangeable) in teh wimminz eyes. Plus conversely, in your male mind, you need to grasp - get it solidly into your head - that women are also disposable (interchangeable).

Looks don't mean shit if you can't stand to be around her for long periods of time. This leads to the pump'n'dump mentality, because the ones who're available are so fucked up that you can't - literally can't - bring yourself to stay with her for long. Assuming you can stand to get with her in the first place. You pump'n'dump, it's that or go completely fuckin' insane.

Understand that this isn't your fault. Back 200 years ago, if she was lucky she had a pool of 10-20 guys to choose from and there was nothing remotely anonymous about the process. If she became the village bike she couldn't hide it. She couldn't hide stepping out, too.

Similar situation with women in rural areas these days, only when she goes to a bigger town or city does this change. Easy transport and large numbers of people has vastly enlarged the pool of guys to potentially tens of thousands, plus making her invisible in the crowd. She gets to experiment as she stars in her very own porno rendition of Girls Gone Wild and Gangbang Barbie.

The hypocrisy and doublethink then comes into play in women's thinking. He is disposable while I am a pweshus pwincess etc. All of society and her upbringing have told her so, reinforced every day through the media and movies and being catered to by every quisling maggot that puts her up on a pedestal to worship her rancid from umpteen guys cum golden cunt.

Which is why she goes fucking insane when you pump'n'dump her entitled shitty ass. You've just shown her, and all and sundry, that she is not an indispensable special snowflake princess.

That she's just as interchangeable as you are.

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?

Expat And Stay There

Every now and then I run across someone who extols the virtues of overseas women. Eastern Europe (Russia, Ukraine, etc), South-East Asia (Thailand, Philippines, etc). Etc etc etc ad-fucking-nauseum.

I had the misfortune to run across one of these people again. (Catching up on my manosphere reading, saw this in the comments.) This one wasn't the entirely typical song-and-dance number though. He said two things that were slightly different:

* Philippine women only
* Stay in the Philippines with her

Now I've had a few posts up here about overseas women. Somewhere among them is a documentary about American guys looking for wives in Odessa. And there's my post about The Freedom Trap.

There's also my experiences of Thai women (who I didn't get involved with - thank goodness! - you can still smell the crap a mile away). Even so, you can have a lot of fun overseas. Whether you get involved or not, it's something interesting to do while you're breathing, neh?

Even so, you have the laughter of the damned - when you realize first-hand that the women overseas are just like the women here. Maybe a little politer, maybe a little nicer.

This? This is normal?

We are becoming expected to go and find our women overseas? Because our own women are such shit-awful pieces of crap?

At least the poster said to stay in the Philippines with her. She'll be fine, so long as she remains in her hell-hole. Some of the men over at /r/MGTOW have some interesting observations, though...

Even I said, in answer to the commentor RmaxGenActivePUA on The Freedom Trap:

I should have made it clearer in the post. My fault, I live under laws which you're probably not used to - they're like breathing air to me.

You are basically correct. However, what happens is that the spread of Feminism and Westernization is changing the cultural mores/social norms everywhere it spreads to. Part of that changing involves the changing of the marriage contract - retroactively. Which is what we're dealing with in the West and is spreading elsewhere also. 

You are correct re not having a marriage contract. Getting married completely changes the dynamic between a couple. 

However. 

There is de-facto relationships (aka common-law marriage, effectively "marriage by stealth") in New Zealand, and I believe in several states in the USA. After three years or so you are deemed to be married, period. That basically counting from the first fuck. Depending on how well she manages to cry for the judge, and how many children are involved. 

Why were these laws enacted? "To be fairer to women and children." If you've got nothing then there's no real problem, if you've got something: you're fucked. 

Expect this poison to spread to the rest of the recently-Feminised world within the next 10 years. Thus, expat is not a real solution. Some guys state that surrogacy is the answer. I'm leery of betting on that too.

Expat if you must, and stay there. Do not expect it to be the final answer to your desire for a family and children.

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

One Long, Childish Wail

Men Are Nothing More Than Clowns To The Modern Women

Roosh nailed it straight to the fuckin' wall.

"Do you want a man?"

Reaching right down into the gut of modern women, so brainwashed by modern life that they think a career and riding the cock carousel is the end-all be-all, to ask them what they actually want for themselves. Not what they've been brainwashed to believe they want. What they want deep inside. For themselves.

Most of them don't have a clue. The ones who do seem to be interested in having a man - who hesitate when saying "I don't know" - he considers a "yes". He then puts on the clown-act, making the effort to entertain her. Sex might ensue. Eventually one or both get bored and they move on to the next clown/woman.

This shows how women are entitled little brat children. The whole concept of expecting entertainment from a man is one long, childish wail of: "I'm booooored. Entertain meeeeeeee!"

Even frivorce because "I love him, but I'm not in love with him" and "he's changed" is just another way of saying that she got bored. So she's off to find someone more entertaining. Out with the long, childish wail: I'm bored. Bored, bored, bored. Entertain meeeeeeee!

Of course marriage is yet another long, childish wail in a similar vein: Support meeeeeeee!

While finally, frivorce (or never getting married in the first place) might end in a final long, childish wail of: Where have all the guys gone? Entertain meeeeeeee!

What Roosh said is so close to the objection that many guys have about PUAs being a "dancing monkey" for women. Dancing monkey, entertaining clown, jumping through hoops for her shits and giggles. I've said it myself: if you're entertaining enough you might win the prize of fucking her, you dancing monkey you.

Even Roosh basically says it, having to entertain her like a clown to get some sex. Many days of entertaining to achieve a few hours of getting your dick wet in aggregate, before you're forced to find another one.

Is it so surprising that some men absolutely will not compromise their dignity and inner integrity for a few minutes inside a warm, wet hole? A warm, wet hole which has been well-used by many other men? A warm, wet hole that is often diseased? A warm, wet hole that even glorifies in its own degradation - perhaps doing anything for the dollars and shopping and experience, like the Dubai Porta Potty girls?

A warm, wet, well-used hole that often comes out with a long, childish wail: Put a ring on meeeeeeee!

You might call me cynical when I asked if that pussy was worth it. When I said that you get better mileage out of paying for prostitutes. Yet, where it's legal and regulated, why not? The chances are good that she's going to be a damnsight cleaner than the average slut you pick up in a bar (STD-wise) even if she's a shitload more jaded by life and the things she's done. Part of legal regulation is her getting checked regularly.

At least she won't be earbashing you about "what Sally said about Jude last night, and Jude, well, she's going to stick her claws into that bitch's hair and rip out a few clumps..." yadda fucking yadda. You're paying the cunt to keep her mouth shut (other than oral) and to get the fuck out once you're done.

So when your choices seem to be:

0/ getting married (becoming a slave-man) [Ed. I forgot this option, duh! - BPS]

1/ playing the clown (plus drama and the possibility of financial rape for 15+ years)

2/ paying for it (no drama)

3/ deciding to hell with it (no drama)

It's what you can live with. The choice is yours. What you can stand doing, what you are willing to risk, what you care enough about.

Nobody has the right to diss you for your choice, nor have they the right to choose for you. Even though women and manginas and certain people in the manosphere with an agenda think and act otherwise. (When *anyone* pulls out any form of shaming language, it's a good time to get really cynical and analytical about what their angle might be.)

More power to you, whichever way in life you choose. Myself, I prefer to quietly sip my Grand Marnier in peace - in the sun or in front of the fire - and to ignore the long, childish wailing coming from the miserable and lonely aged slut standing abandoned on the side of the road.

Another Day, Another Dollar

Yes indeed, the quiet undercurrent of the tired-at-soul salary man with a wife and children.

I do like the guy. He's blue-pill as anything, of course.

Yet still, there is that undercurrent of discontent. The feeling that there is more out there. More than what he's getting, better than what he's getting.

The discontent of the Blue Pill masses is starting to slowly bubble and ferment? Perhaps.

It's 2014. A while ago I thought that by 2020 there would be some massive social backlashes starting - a friend thinks 2017. Only three years away - time to get some passive income sorted, another business going, etc.

I'm writing a book. Not one that is overtly manospherian. Think something along the lines of: "You Are Not As Smart As You Think" (an exceptional book btw). I didn't want to do something like a "Best of BlackPoisonSoul" because it's all been done already by people far more eloquent and polished than I.

Three years to get it done. Well, we'll see.