Monday 4 May 2015

All The Wells Have Been Thoroughly Poisoned

Occasionally I go over and read Donal Graeme - he's a Christian Red Pill blogger who decries Churchianity and brings up some interesting stuff. I should read him more than I do, though I'm both atheist and getting busier these days. Commentor Mindstorm recently pointed me over there to a post:

A Truce ... or Victory?

Some of the comments in there are starkly illustrative of the mindset of people still trying to get men into the game-aka-war going on between the two sexes. Commentor The Shadowed Knight resists this and states:
I am not interested in a truce. I am not interested in a war, either. Women can fight; they want that drama. Every man for himself, and this man is leaving the field. For many of us, any truce will come too late to do much good. This fight left too few decent women standing, and the effort involved in finding them is too much for me. 
The Shadowed Knight
Yes indeed, he strikes right to the core. Too few of worth, too hard to find, forget it. I'm outta here, left the other slaves on the plantation, looking for a nice pleasant fishing-hole to enjoy. Want to join me? Drop your hook over there, maybe you'll get Old Mossy who hides under the tree roots.

Of course, there's the obligatory women-centric types seeming to try and shame the men back into getting involved with them. Some are obviously women, some are a bit harder to tell if it's a feminist-oriented male or someone with other skin in the game. I will quote one female commentor:
This fight left too few decent women standing, and the effort involved in finding them is too much for me. 
Even if you found one that you were convinced is one of the few decent women left, I doubt you’d fight to snap her up. Not just you though; that applies to most men these days, including those that hang around here, despite the fact that it’s hard to find one.
(Donal Graeme did give her a mild earful for coming across as a shaming-attempt. I would not have been so mild.)

People can state what they wish. People lie.

Women, as chameleon, are nothing but lies. ("I'm not like that!" When it's evident in every push-up bra, every drop of scent, every layer of makeup, every piece of slutty revealing clothing, that she is like that. Stop lying, woman.)

This is what these fucking retards never seem to grasp. Women. Faced with overwhelming evidence to the contrary, they think that opening their mouth and saying something means that Men will take it as truth. Whether it's true or not.



The type of mentality which comes across - as if they're entitled to lie and sincerely expect to get away with it and that men will give them the pussy-pass if they're caught out - is both amazing and disturbing. Female entitlement to the max.

Cory Doctrow once wrote a piece on MetaCrap:
Meta-utopia is a world of reliable metadata. When poisoning the well confers benefits to the poisoners, the meta-waters get awfully toxic in short order.
To paraphrase and apply this maxim to the so-called sexual marketplace:
The sexual marketplace is a world of reliable relationships. When poisoning the sexual marketplace confers benefits to the poisoners, the sexual marketplace gets awfully toxic in short order.
Women have very thoroughly poisoned the sexual marketplace. It has been for their personal short-term gain and not for their family's nor civilization's long-term gain.
Imagine a caravan of camels going through the desert. The sun burns down, the plodding pace, the feet dragging through the shifting sands. They stop at various oases and wells, trading, getting water, fresh food.

One particular village realizes that caravans are very profitable and poisons a well, luring in caravans. Those who go there die, their carcasses stripped, the bodies hidden away before the next caravan arrives. Several other villages note the prosperity of this village of robbers and decide to emulate them. The mentality spreads to yet other villages. Soon, all of the villages are doing it.

The caravan trade slacks off. Alarmed at the loss of their prosperity, the villagers get together and send out word: "We do not do these things. Come trade with us without risk."

The caravan trade picks up again. Prosperity returns to the villages in the form of more dead caravans, their corpses stripped, their bones hidden away in the endless sands.

Again, the caravan trade slacks off. Some of the villagers, deciding that they're sick of the others actions - even though they personally profited from those actions, perhaps even participated in them - split away and settle new villages.

No caravans arrive.

Surprised, they get together and have a big conflab then send out word: "We are new villages. We have absolutely nothing to do with those filthy robbers of the old villages. You can come trade with us and you will be welcome."

Still no caravans.

All the wells have been thoroughly poisoned - in the minds of the caravan-masters.
Women seem to be so irrational (or entitled) that they apparently cannot grasp that men are actually rational when it comes to danger. That we see overwhelmingly common behavior. That we realize this behavior is going to be so common that we are most likely going to be subjected to it. (Is this a function of men as hunters, becoming good at recognizing danger in our surrounds and patterns of behavior in things around us?)

Plus, the whole idea of "new villages" reminds me of "born-again virgins".

Plus, the whole idea of so-called Red Pill Women stinks of the poison of personal opportunism.

A woman may not intend at all to follow this behavior.

Feelings change.

Good intentions go out the window.

Emotions take over.

You actually have the nerve to tell me you're not like that? You actually have the chutzpah to tell me you've changed? Cry me a fucking river. Woman, you lie.

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  1. It really does not matter if any good ones even exist or not because the laws are still so heavily gynocentric and anti-man, the risk of having a relationship just isn't worth it.

    1. Exactly. What might have been a "good one" can become as spoiled-rotten as the most overtly skanky gold-digging whore with a bit of encouragement from her "peers" aka frenemies.