Reality Pushes Back

Part #1 - before The Trumpening:

So I know this older and quite fat woman, she's gotten fired (along with a bunch of others). Worked as an analyst and actuarial at a bank here in New Zealand (note that 90% of NZ banks are ultimately owned by Australian banks).

She's having a whine about how awful it has been for everyone, how her boss collapsed, how her team has been split up randomly amongst other "bosses" who have no idea what they do or how to use them effectively, etc etc etc.

Final whine was about she doesn't know why she's been fired, the company used to win awards for their diversity...

Basically she got fired because she was costing the company too damn much for not enough return. And she thought that it was unfair because of VAGINA. Hah! Reality's a bitch innit.

Part #2 - after The Trumpening:

It's a couple of weeks on, she's resigned herself to reality (and a big fat bonus + severance check - note that it was still cheaper to fire her ass and pay her a year of "shut-your-cake-hole" money than to keep her hired).

She's now walking daily and has lost a couple of kilograms.

Trump got in though. Whinge...whine...bitch...creeb...typical leftist fucking drivel, which I for one am utterly sick of hearing. It's not even humorous any more, just a sign that the person desperately needs a double-tapping to the head. Some people are just incapable of shutting up and not driving you crazy.

Me: Trump won't press the button. He can't. Senate and House will stop any overt lunacies, the Generals would disobey, etc etc etc.

Her: (utter silence)

Even retards fucking get it eventually.

Especially note the walking. For someone quite a few kilograms overweight, she's suddenly gotten onto a fitness kick. Why?

Might it be because she's no bloody use when she doesn't bring in money? Plus she's basically unemployable? Add to that being a whining fat bitch who doesn't sleep in the same room with hubby because "he snores"?

So she has decided to sweeten the deal with hubby by getting thinner - because being married to a bitching whiner is easier if she's skinny and fuckable.

I'm picking that soonish, she'll be moving back into hubby's bed instead of sleeping separately.

Speaking of fat chicks (no more fat chicks! - this PSA brought to you courtesy of Black Poison Soul). You cannot shame a fat chick if you want to remain employed. Here is the effects of this principle:

If a man is fat and overweight - even just moderately - the doctors are on his ass 110% giving him shit about changing his lifestyle and habits for his own good and health and etc.

Fat chicks? Enormous fucking silence. Not one peep to women about how they should change their lifestyle and habits for their own good and health and etc.

Such is the socially-diseased power of fat bitches in society. (Warning: do not fuck, can lead to unwanted pregnancies and a painful life! - this PSA brought to you courtesy of Black Poison Soul.)

America Has Spoken

It's now inevitable. America has followed Brexit.

You can take my heart, you can take my breath
When you pry it from my cold, dead chest

I will watch and see what happens. Perhaps the giant will shake off the parasites and become truly great once more. They have attempted to start down the path to reality once more.

America. I raise to you a glass of Grand Marnier. May you turn around the decay, excise the rot, and grow healthy and straight and strong.

Fear and Loathing in Modern Times

The modern day...everyone is scared shitless.

Outta their fucking minds.

Why?

It is a symptom of our gynocentric society.

Teh Wimminz get the crap scared out of them at the thought of being socially irrelevant. So they thrash around, backstabbing each other, building themselves up while tearing others down, attempting to get their narcissistic "fix" from all and sundry.

Smile at a woman. Go on, give her a genuine smile outta the blue when she isn't expecting it. Maybe even a flirty little wink, too.

Unless she's having a shit day (or a completely shit life, with attendant mental craphole) - she'll smile back, maybe surprised, maybe a little shy.

You just validated her existence. For a moment, she is relevant.

It never lasts. In a short while, she will have forgotten - and be back into her usual mode of obsessing about her social status and worrying again about becoming socially irrelevant.

A never-ending cycle of shit, for her.

A lot of us men have the crap scared out of us too. For the same stupid shit. (I think we caught it off teh wimminz, like a dose of the clap.)

This is where we get the male trolls and White Knights and SJWs and leftists and femicunts and general attack-bunnies. These are socially irrelevant men who can't be arsed or are too stupid to figure out why (and then deciding if they actually want to improve) - they just make up their own mental frames of immature lemming-like behavior and follow them over the cliff:

You can always tell an attack-bunny. They ask the most moronic of trick questions - in manosphere terms, Gamma's on the attack and attempting an AMOG: "So you think you're smart?"

Very mature, along the same lines of: "Were you ever caught masturbating in the dunny?" The real answer to this is: "Keep your perverted homosexual fantasies away from my cock, you sicko."

Similarly, the real answer to the above attack-bunny gamma AMOG question is: "1 + 1 = 3, you smarmy little cunt. Now fuck off."

These attack-bunnies try to trap you via your ego into accepting an implicit challenge. Probably well-rehearsed and prepared. (A symptom of social irrelevance, preparing obsessively to make themselves seem socially relevant. The level of mental self-deceptive ju-jitsu required for this is enough to cause me migraines.) One where they know they'll make you look small. One which ends up with them gaining their validation. For a moment, they are relevant.

Like a woman's validation, it never lasts. Soon they're spinning around frantically again, looking for their next fix of social relevance aka narcissistic supply.

Is this about avoiding the tricksters? Avoiding the SJWs and attack-bunnies?

Only partially.

The real problem is our fucking ego's.

It is ego which makes teh wimminz thrash around uselessly. It is ego which puts an attack-bunny on the prowl.

The real problem with our fucking ego's is that they've been deliberately built up. You too can have it all. Just go watch the series "Century of the Self" - and think about what propaganda, advertising, marketing is working on building up. Often in the form of making you seem more attractive to the opposite sex.

The ego. You can sell a shitload to someone with a big ego - because their big ego wants to flash it all around. "Look at me! I'm important!"

After their death - in a hundred years - in a thousand years - are they really going to be remembered?

Yeah, right.

Their ego cannot handle that. That utter irrelevance, the fact that nobody gives a flying shit, the fact that in a hundred or a thousand years it won't matter whether they were born - or not.

This is the roots of the modern bullshit drive for fame. Fame and relevance. The ego wants to be remembered, like Alexander and Cleopatra and Julius Caesar and Nero and Shakespeare and and andandand...

...never mind that these people actually did something. That's what made them famous. Their fame wasn't from "being famous" or "being socially relevant".

Be honest. Do we know of many "socially relevant" people from 300+ years ago?

Probably royalty and the aristocracy only. Kings, queens, princes, princesses, dukes, duchesses, barons, baronesses, sheriffs, etc. Precious few of those are household names. Think of a King, who comes to mind? For me, it's Henry VIII - because of that bloody song "I'm Henry the eighth I am" et-fucking-cetera. Anyway, these people actually did shit or had bad shit happen to them.

Take famous artists: Michelangelo, Van Gogh, Rubin, Picasso, Jackson Pollock, Salvador Dali. Did these guys become artists with the intention of becoming famous? Fuck no. They were just obsessed with painting and sculpting and doing stuff.

Even da Vinci was a fucking loser for much of his life - by the age of 30 he was basically unemployable. He didn't paint The Last Supper until 1498, when he was 46 years old. Sixteen more fucking years of obsessive crazy, as a pathetic has-been, before he put his first masterpiece out there. That is fucking obsessed to the nth power!

This is quite the quandary for the ordinary non-thinking young person who wants to be famous. Or even infamous, like Nero or Jack the Ripper or Charles Manson. Thirty-plus years of fucking shit before you get anywhere? MAYBE?!

The modern young pussies ego can't handle this. It's too big and dumb. It doesn't think in these terms. It thinks like: "I want it now. I want it yesterday. I want fucking more tomorrow. And the demands will all be changed then, so fucking stay awake!"

Because that's the way it's been trained, all its life. The ego. In a nutshell, it wants to be Mister Fucking Popularity - NOW.

Tony fucking Robbins, unleashing the power within. "Visualize yourself in an auditorium. All your family and friends come wandering in. They start a eulogy...it's yours. You're dead. What do you want them to say about you?"

Yeah, supercharging that fuckin' little frantic rabbit of an ego of yours. So selfish. So ultimately pointless and futile, wanting to be "remembered" in such-and-so a way. A fuckin' trap that others can use to grab you by. Grab the balls, squeeze a little, drag you around, thank you very much that'll be $100, NEXT!

Advertising and marketing to the young. So that they can be tricked into an endless cycle of "the latest fad" and someone can empty their pockets. So fuckin' sad and stupid. Because of it, it's now expected to be young and fuckin' stupid. The weird and worst bit, so many of them're too young and fuckin' stupid to understand just how young and fuckin' stupid they really are...

Cautionary stories. MacBeth - a warning that ambition is a vice, not a virtue. Another trap of the ego. Taken advantage of by the corporate ladder. As per The Peter Principle - eventually you get promoted to the point of incompetence. It's a mindless escalation from competence and relevance to incompetence and irrelevance. With a slow death of the self resulting.

Running endlessly to fill our ego, in a job that is 90% stupid, in a society that we recognize on a deep level is existential hell.

In a thousand years, in ten thousand years - all futile, at the end. Nobody will remember, let alone say "this person mattered because of X".

Symptoms of Cotton Wool

It's kinda humorous actually. So lets go look at Google's "Web Security" team, courtesy of Wired magazine:

Google's Chrome Hackers Are About To Upend Your Idea Of Web Security

Very first thing on the page is a photo of four chicks.

Oh yeah. Welcome to the world of cotton-wool.

So okay, the gist of it is: these four chicks want non-secure websites to come up in Chrome with the message: "Not Secure". Which is a pretty-good idea actually, for their stated purpose of attempting to push the WWW to use HTTPS instead of open HTTP traffic.

Where it all falls down though, is three simple words: "transparent https proxy".

We have one at work. Even when connecting to my bank to signin and do transfers, etc - even though it shows a padlock, as being secure - my work can see exactly what I'm doing, exactly what the passwords are, exactly every-bloody-thing.

My work is a man-in-the-middle attack in action, every second of the day, if they want to be.

Think that the ISPs aren't? Or couldn't be, if they wanted to?

Go ahead, womyn. Try to swathe the world in cotton wool.

You have already failed.

The Message

Her: You should go out with X, she likes you.

Me: No.

Her: What? *hamstershit*

Me: She sent me a message. I got it. No.

Her: *more hamstershit*

Heheheh.

Both words and actions are the message. When you read the message behind the message.

Jumping ship from one man to another.

Divorcing her husband to play the field.

Partying when her kids are with the dad.

No thanks. No thanks. No thanks.

Read the message. Her actions and words tell you it. They are quite open. She's not hiding what she is. She's not even thinking about it. She simply subconsciously relies upon your clueless inattention.

You simply need to pay attention to what that message, those words and actions that comprise it, mean.

Her message is sub-rosa, unconscious, unintentional. She's not consciously aware of it. It's there, though - in the disconnect that she shows, that is very evident between, the shallow depths of her head and the reality that surrounds her.

"My children are my world."

That's why she jumped ship. That's why she dumped her husband. That's why she's a slut. That's why she changes boyfriends every month. That's why she's a party-girl. That's why it's all their fault.

You don't have to gloss over it. You can pick it up - you can be aware of it - you can read it. That message. That's right, that message. Clear as glass, obvious as daylight.

Hidden in plain sight. Even from her self.

And you can choose to act upon it, rather than other more overt messages. Messages like the bullshit script that society expects - insinuates - demands that you follow.

Get Shit Done

Ah, the West!

Once a group of obsessed mad motherfuckers who got shit done...

...now predominantly a bunch of pussies squabbling over which entitled bitch they can dump a cum into tonight.

Not all of 'em.

A good number though.

Maybe 80% of men.

While princess stands on her steel pedestal, legs primly together - at least until someone she fancies comes along. Then it's "all hands on deck" while she services him like a 50-cent whore in a back alley.

Which makes us Men a buncha "deplorables" and a big thank-you to Hillary. Like you never went out and fucked somebody behind the back o' Bill the Prez'.

Funny, given that he's supposedly shootin' blanks. Where the fuck did Chelsea come from? You been catchin' it from somebody else? What, you thought nobody would notice?

Yeah, just sweep that under the carpet. Along with that bitch Monica. You are so much the perfect presidential candidate.

At least us Men can read the writin' on the fuckin' wall. No shit Sherlock. Once we're done shoveling the gravel, we go and do our own thing...

...while the pussies can keep on keepin' on kissin' your rotten and well-used vagina.

One day that steel pedestal will rust all the way through. Princess will fall to lie in the dust, dirt, and muck.

Tell us, then what, whore?

Pink Tit Day Wandered Past Again

The usual stuff. Support teh wimminz at every opportunity.

Wear pink for a day.

Pink baking for morning tea.

Pink walk.

Not this Black Poison Soul. I wore a black suit and shirt.

Looked like the Godfather.

"Why aren't you wearing pink?"

"I'm rebellious."

The grumpy looks from the spoiled whores who think that men will lap up their runny shit at any time of year. Especially on pink day. Breast cancer, do as we demand, bow to us, aren't we speshul, wooooo.

Yeah, you're speshul. Got off the fuckin' short bus, you did. Especially if you think I'm gonna kowtow to your whims and desires.

Now piss off and let me get on with doing my work. There's a few million dollars riding on it today. Ain't got time for your runny shit.

Funny. Share a spa pool with a couple of chicks. Nosy likkle pwincesses. One of 'em is a cute Asian chick, works in IT like I do. Programmer type. Let the grilling begin:

"Are you married?"

"Naw, divorced."

"Have kids?"

"Naw."

"Think you'll ever have kids?"

"Not looking good. Haven't found anyone worthwhile in <town where I live>."

The smell of overworked brain is very strong - angling, angling, angling. Real question is do I feel like fuckin' you? Nah. You're young enough, seem desperate enough, I'd probably get you preggers first shot from an "accident". Piss on that.

Not nasty, though. Pleasant about it. Quiet deflection. Can't be arsed being actively unpleasant - save that sorta shit for the unpleasant themselves, then nuke the cunt from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

Brought to you by Grand Marnier and a plateful of chicken nibbles. Mmmmmm...

Mangina In A Nutshell

Yes indeed, put a ring on that - fuckin' pussies.

This is why women are out of control. 90% of men are too chickenshit to say the words: "no" and "fuck off".

Check Your Privilege

No, not your male privilege. Shut your mouths, you feminazi hoes - unless you want a dick in it. Then get down on your knees, we'll oblige.

Your fuckin' urban privilege, you white university educated bitch.

Over on Cracked there is a two-page article about How Half Of America Lost Its Fucking Mind. It explains the whole Donald Trump phenomenon, referencing and explaining the tropes behind movies, and lays it out like shit on a shingle.

It's actually quite fuckin' awesome.

Which leads to a question, for all those feminazi cunts out there.

If Donald Trump is a rapist to be reviled and all that sorta shit...

...who the fuck bought 80 million copies of Fifty Shades of Shit?

(Yeah I know, thought I'd run outta stuff to say for the moment. Who'd'a fuckin' thought.)

What Bloody Reward?

Back about a month or so ago, I put up a post about an unattractive mirror that we should possibly look into. In it, I stated that while it appeared that 80% of women are still children - that we men could also be in a similar situation, 80% of us still children also.

On that post, commenter Carl made a damn good point:

If there are no incentives for males to become adults, then why should they? For the greater good? LOL

A very damn good point.

In the old days, children were bought up with the mindset that being an adult was a goal to strive for. Adults were looked up to and listened to because of their sheer experience. The young boys knew that being a husband was a massive sacrifice on a mans part. They still did it because it had one major reward:

RESPECT.

As we know, there is no respect these days. And certainly no reward. Especially given the trash out there.

Now take a step back and look at society.

Society promised us a reward. Though these days, we are seeing through the peeling reflection of the shithouse mirror and realizing that it's just marketing hype for the hucksters to transfer money from your pocket to theirs.

Giant hunk'o'diamond ring. Honeymoon in Hawaii. The McMansion. Owning a second house (in NZ, a bach) in a scenic place that you visit 2-4 weeks and a couple of weekends a year. Owning a boat or set of jetski's for the family to use.

All of these transfer money from your pocket to somebody else's.

So for most men, the marriage-market is a lie. Advertising. Something to lure you into doing things that are not in your ultimate self-interest.

This leaves us men who have woken up understandably bitter. Moreso if we've been caught up and slaughtered in a divorce/frivorce.

Now take another step back and look at things.

Why are we bitter?

It is because the rest of the world, they, taught us all our lives, that X would bring Y as a reward. Brainwashed us. Fed us a plateful of shit and lies.

When the plateful of shit and lies made us sick, when reality reared up and bit our asses off, we got pissed off and bitter about it.

Understandable.

So it takes us a while to get over the anger and bitterness. Of course. Anyone who says that they can help us fix our problems in quick-short order, with a snap of the fingers, is another huckster selling snake-oil. (Here's my snake-oil sure-fire cancer-cure: grapes. Lots of grapes. If you actually do die from cancer within the year, contact me and I'll send you your money back. Guaranteed. Now here's my bill for $10k, thankyouverymuchNEXT!)

Eventually though, we finally accept that Z is what reality is, not the X/Y that we were brainwashed to believe.

Which leaves us at a loose end. As Carl said above, there's no incentives to become adults. So why should we?

Why should we improve ourselves? Why should we strive? Why should we do something more than just sit in the basement playing computer games? Why?

Go ahead. Play computer games in the basement. That's what you want? Go for it.

Because here's the rub. There's always the crisis of motive to think about. If you improve yourself, if you improve your body, if you improve your income, if you improve your life: is it for you, or is it because it's gonna attract women?

If you've grown up - if you've become an adult - why have you done it?

For the ones who've already screwed you over? Do you really wanna do that? Improve yourself...because you're still actually chasing that pussy...still chasing that lying reward that you were brainwashed with all your life?

Fuckin' hard and deep and painful question, that one. Everyone has to answer it for themselves.

As Carl said: For the greater good? When, in reality, the "greater good" can pretty-much be translated to "for teh wimminz benefit"?

...yeah, fuck that, ay.

So we do what we want. Fuck heaps of chicks as the PUA do? Go for it. Play games in the basement? Go for it. Go walking, tramping, fishing, camping out, taking photographs? Go for it. Whatever you want.

It doesn't matter. We don't want society's reward. We've woken up to the realization that it's a plateful of shit and lies.

Now take a final step back and look at ourselves.

Okay, fuck society. There's no reward there.

Except...

...in a roundabout way...

...there is.

If nothing else, it gives us the time and personal space to enjoy ourselves. We don't have to strive at life, as we would have if we had swallowed the whole marriage-and-children lie and gotten on the treadmill of the ratrace for someone else's benefit.

We're not living hand-to-mouth in the old dangerous days of famine, pestilence, and plague. As single men we have plentiful food and the money and time and ability to go and do stuff that interests us. All without the modern entitled nagging bitch in tow, wasting our lives and destroying our sanity with her drivel.

The thing about society is that so long as we do a certain amount of something, it keeps things going - for us. For our benefit. Yup, be selfish about it. For our personal, selfish, greedy, grasping benefit.

So now to look at it laterally, everything askew, and ask:

WHO THE FUCK SAYS THAT SOCIETY'S REWARD IS THE ONLY ONE IN TOWN?

That might be the only socially-accepted (aka wimminz-approved) reward. But who says that is the only possible reward in the world?

Teh wimminz? They're wanting the free bennies.

The marketers pandering to teh wimminz? They're wanting to line their pockets at the expense of yours - and in the process, give teh wimminz their free bennies.

The government pandering to teh wimminz? Get a grip. Biggest bunch of lying, thieving, conniving motherfuckers in creation bar none.

This is where the real message of MGTOW is.

Fuck heaps of chicks, play games in the basement, walking, tramping, fishing, camping out, taking photographs, whatever.

Improve yourself, if you want, however you want, for your own personal satisfaction.

For YOUR reward. For what YOU want. Define your own fuckin' success, reward, happiness, goal, end-game - and go for it.

Balls to the fuckin' wall.

Your fuckin' enjoyment.

Your fuckin' path.

That you fuckin' walk.

Ignoring everybody fuckin' else.

Don't give a shit about the fuckin' plantation any more.

So hang up your hat, put away the suit, go fishing and watch the stars in peace. Go and follow your own path to freedom and happiness.

We don't have to choose their view of what a grown-up adult aka slave is. We can choose our own way of growing up.

And hell, still keep a bit of that big ol' kid going. You know, the kid that lives in reality rather than being crushed and dead inside. Like the rest of the poor bastards of slaves still out there.

The poor bastards of slaves that secretly envy you.

In my view - in my opinion - going MGTOW is actually growing up, realizing that there's more out there than the bullshit script, deciding for ourselves what we want, and going hell-for-leather after that, rather than chasing what they - anyone else - wants us to chase.

To hell with teh wimminz and what they want. Ditto for the marketers. Ditto for the government.

For ourselves. For our personal, selfish, greedy, grasping selves.

They think otherwise?

Like in my The Final Answer: What Is MGTOW post - who the fuck do they think they are? They can go fuck themselves.

Talked (written?) myself out for the moment. I think that it's time for a small glass of Grand Marnier.

Gonna step out again for a while.

Good luck to you all.