Empty Shells

A lot of the anger in the manosphere is due to the realisation of the lies that we have been taught.

(I sometimes wonder if it is also a part of what Keoni Galt calls the Feed Corporation - shitty food having screwed with our brains to the point of many becoming somewhat autistic. Of course, constant brainwashing from a young age through schools would have the same effect. Perhaps even complementing and reinforcing each other.)

For some of us - once we get through the rage phase, through the bargaining stage, past the depression and into the acceptance stage, there's a quieter period when we attempt to dig through to the truth of "why".

One of the things we should probably ask ourselves is: "Why are we so pissed off?"

Okay, there were lies and indoctrination shoved down our throats ad nauseum. We've gotten through that by now, we're trying to find the next stage. But there's sometimes still something stuck in our collective craws...

Anger. Still.

The thing is that this anger is misplaced.

Why?

Because the subjects of our ire are empty shells.

Bland, banal, worthless, empty shells. Of no worth or meaning to the world.

In aggregate, most cannot make or do anything which has the slightest meaning. An endless treadmill of nothing, nothing, nothing. Which is why they attempt to fill this nothing with shopping, "experiences", and general dipshit more nothingness.

Their only true value is in siring the next generation. Even at that, they suck brass monkey balls. Which is why they fuck it up so royally.

But boy, are they awesome when it comes to psyops - mentally fucking with the head, in such a manner that you overlook their general worthlessness.

Of course, a lot of men are likewise empty shells. These are similar parasites on society and the world as the shitty women are.

Grasping, greedy, pigs who are all too happy to get their hands into our pockets. The eternal cry of equality and similar bullshit - just another way for a parasite to lie, saying that they're fuckin' useless and can only live by sponging off you.

"Give me free shit!"

Without actually saying that so baldly to our faces.

'Cause if they did, what might happen?

Women just aren't important. 'Nuff said.

Fuck bitchez. Get money.

And enjoy yourself.

Your life will be so much better.

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

She's Changed, She's Not The Slut I Married

Every now and then it's funny as fuck to flip the script on some of the common things in life. This one is the "he's changed, he's not the man I married" excuse that goes around for a frivorce. I'm also adding to this the common trope of men getting less sex once married.

Man (seeking divorce): Your honor, she's changed. She's not the slut I married.

Judge: Please explain for the Court and Jury.

Man: Well, your honor. In the beginning she was all over me. Couldn't keep her hands off me. It was sex - sex, sex, sex. Sometimes five times a day! Blow jobs, fucking like rabbits, wild-monkey-sex, anal, the works. She swallowed like a greedy nymphomaniac. Sex was almost exhausting on my part, yet she craved it incessantly. Forced it, even.

Judge: You are advised to restrain your language. Though the illustration is clear. In what way has she changed?

Man: Apologies, your honor. Well. Marriage - which was very expensive, because I thought that she was worth it - then suddenly things went downhill. Certainly our marriage night was good, definitely up to par. Yet, within a year, she was looking very pudgy. She added 10 kilos.

Judge: She added 10 kilograms of weight in a year?

Man: Yes your honor. You can see the photo's as evidence, pre-wedding down the beach and wedding. Very slim and athletic as you can see. Within a year she'd added 10 kilos. Over the three years of our marriage, she has added 50 kilos - as you can see, your honor.

Judge: Yes, the Court can see the differences. Continue.

Man: Thank you, your honor. Well. Not only did she put on weight - sex dropped off.

Judge: Dropped off? Expand on that.

Man: It was strange. Originally the sex continued much as it had...then it slowly tapered off. Three times a day...two times a day...once a day. Then once every couple of days. Only on weekends. Until now, three years later, when it's once - perhaps twice - in a month.

Judge: I understand. A marked change in behavior. Was there any reason for this change? Medical, physical, or the like?

Man: I can give various examples, your honor. Will that suffice?

Judge: Indeed.

Man: All sorts of reasons - none overtly medical or physical. Things like: I'm on my period - which I could understand, though that doesn't mean that other ahem sexual acts cannot be performed. They used to be, on a regular and daily basis.

Judge: That will be taken under advisement. Continue.

Man: Other things. I don't feel like it. I have a headache. I'm in one of those moods. It's been a hard day. I just want to be cuddled. Things like that.

Judge: So nothing actually medical?

Man: No, your honor. We did seek medical and psychiatric help. Medically there was nothing wrong with her, as per the doctor's report. Psychiatrically, she refused to go to the Psychiatrist. Said it was demeaning and degrading.

Judge: Interesting. So you were the concerned for her health - physical, mental, and emotional - and attempted to help her.

Man: Yes, your honor. It was such a marked change in behavior, I had to do all that I could to have her regain her health and well-being.

Judge: Is there anything further that you wish to add?

Man: Yes, your honor. Neglect.

Judge: Neglect?

Man: Yes, your honor. Neglect. Coming home from a hard night's work - no meals prepared. I had to prepare my own. In many cases, our child was hungry also. She had not been fed lunch or dinner. Once or twice, she had not had her nappies changed - I had to do that as well.

Judge: Upon returning from work. What had your Wife been doing?

Man: Apparantly laying on the couch and watching television all day, your honor.

Judge: It would appear that your Woman has failed in her Wifely duties, being neglectful and causing hardship to both you and your child. The Jury will now retire to consider the merits of the case.

Jury (returning from recess and giving judgement): Your honor, we find in the Man's favor.

Judge: As expected - an almost open-and-shut case of female deception and Wifely neglect. As is I must grant this divorce, you are no longer Man and Wife. As recompense for this Wifely neglect I find that all assets will revert to your name. Your child will remain in your care. The State will grant assistance in the form of a nanny, since you must work to continue paying your mortgage.

Judge: As regards the Woman - she is passed over to the care of a Psychological Institute for a period of not less than two years and not more than five years. It is hoped that within that institution she will become a functioning and useful member of society. Though it is my personal opinion that she will never be suitable as a Wife, nor for duties in the field of Mothering and dealing with Children. That will be entered in her record.

This is what equality would look like - though don't expect to see it in a courtroom near you!

A Means To An End

Women view men as a means to an end. For them, the end is simple: to support her in the manner to which she wishes to become accustomed.

Long ago, I had a woman I was fucking actually say those exact words to my face regarding her husband.

Men, we need to reciprocate this view in full. For us, the end is simple: to drop a fuck into her and then send her on her way.

Equality, you know.