Twisted Obsessions

It has never ceased to amaze me, the hamsterbations of the female mind. You'd have thought that I'd'a learned by now, yet they can still surprise me.

So here I am in America, I do talk with people. Mostly the older set, because they are actually interesting (astronomers, a guy who was in the NASA space program, engineers who built missiles, an ex-army man who was involved in the Titan II missile biz). Very interesting people.

I don't bother with the younger ones. The males're more interested in making money and showing it off so that they can get their dick wet. The females are brain dead followers of the Karshitdians and whatever loopy drama they can stir up in their lives (a weird thing by itself). The things that us old farts kinda look down on...

Youth, their heedlessness makes me feel old and fuckin' crusty.

Yet for really twisted obsessions, the older females seem to be tops. This is both in NZ and America. Probably the rest of the world too, I have no real personal experience of that though.

The number of older wimminz this past three weeks. They learn that I'm single, the first thing that pops out of their mouths is: "We need to get you a girlfriend." With the obvious "you need to be married" bullshit at a deeper level of meaning in their words.

Yep, like that's gonna happen. I'm picking that Hell will achieve negative Kelvin first.

Of course, being a single man with some spare $$$ to enjoy himself with, that's a straightforward combination of threat/opportunity for wimminz. Can't let him run around loose - he'll wake up the other plantation slaves. Besides, he's got $$$ that some woman isn't sucking dry.

This situation cannot be borne!

So I've had the fortune (aka pain in the ass) of having wimminz making ominous rumbling noises in my direction. All being attempts to curtail my freedom, disguised as "opportunities" to "get a good wimminz in my life" aka become host to a pathetic class of parasitic fuckin' leech.

When I say pathetic, I mean definitively past it. Not to say that some of these wimminz ain't good-looking for chicks in their fourties and fifties. (MakeApp. Use it. Even on the older ones - no, especially on the older ones!) A couple of them would have been real stunners in their twenties.

They're still single/divorced and looking though, which immediately clues you in to the fact that they just couldn't manage one of three things:

1/ choose the right type of man to start with (he was abusive)

2/ stick with the man they'd chosen for more than a decade or so (she got bored)

3/ find the right type of man in the first place (too busy blowing and riding those musical cocks on the carousel)

Yet at this age they are stuck with the weirdest idea that they're still God's gift to men plus still have that twisted obsession with getting married again. He'd better have a giant cock as well. As if the fuckin' world owes it to them or something.

'Scuse me, Martha. You ain't all that. Go squat on your purple cactus for a while.

Because I ain't giving up my freedom for some worn-out loose cunt that's already shat out three watermelons aka womb-turds to multiple men, and is incapable of having any more. There's only downside, no upside atall (having kiddies for the next generation is the only upside, and not much of one these days with frivorce and the weaponisation of the kiddies against the father).

So on the whole: she shoulda planned better and stuck with her "starter marriage" - a term that needs to burn in hell, along with all wimminz who think that way.

That said, there have been a couple of wimminz who knew that I'm from New Zealand and there was no hope of any relationship and who still made some determined moves on me. Perhaps it's because I'm in reasonable shape for a 52yo, perhaps they just wanted some "exotic" foreign dick, perhaps they really thought that I'd change my mind after "sampling" their "wares".

Like I said to someone: I didn't come here looking for some pussy. All it'd take is a false rape accusation and *wham* BPS is in jail for 6-8 months, game and life over man. Supremely fucked.

Though I'll admit that it's fuckin' hard at times, when a halfway-decent-looking (MakeApp, MakeApp, MakeApp) specimen is skilfully putting the moves on you (plenty of practice, that one). I'm not a fuckin' stone, aye. The $$$ that I have is a magnet that's sometimes hard to hide, the temptation is there when they determinedly make all the effort...

Bought to you from the back-bed of an RV up near Grand Canyon. By myself, driving the wimminz en-masse mad because I'm single. Just remember that rawdogging the roadwhore is a supremely bad idea, no matter how tempting...so don't let the camel get its head in the tent door.

Shackles

Whether a mouse or a man, every animal fears a trap. It's survival. The living cannot thrive in shackles. Whenever, wherever, freedom fades - tension and fear rise.

But then, we all know the social tyranny - the social trap - that we Men labor under.

A trap needn't be steel jaws crushing a rabbit's leg. It can be a web of deceit and lies - a plot of tricks and betrayals that strip us of our defenses and even our illusions of defenses one by one.

Until you find that not only is #pizzagate real, the ones you were relying upon to uncover the truth were actually up to their necks in it all along, and that not only have you not trusted the media for years but you no longer know *who* to trust in a world where everything can be retconned to the point where you begin to doubt your own memories and mind and sanity...gaslighting psyops at their finest...
---edit, missed putting this bit in - BPS---
Take this scenario. A very well-known public figure, accused of selling state secrets, hiding their corruption by funnelling all correspondence through a secret email server, with hints of involvement in a major pedophile ring, who is exonerated (twice) by the secret service of the country where they live. Keep in mind that the said public figure has at least some influence over the secret service.

Sound familiar?

Shackles of believing the lies of others, shackles of not knowing who to believe and so believing nobody, shackles imposed by others or yourself. There's no difference. Eventually you cut your own foot off in the vain attempt to become free. And when there's no freedom to be found?

John B. Calhoun in 1968, the infamous Mouse Utopia experiment:

In July 1968 four pairs of mice were introduced into the Utopian universe. The universe was a 9-foot (2.7 m) square metal pen with 4.5-foot-high (1.4 m) sides. Each side had four groups of four vertical, wire mesh “tunnels.” The “tunnels” gave access to nesting boxes, food hoppers, and water dispensers. There was no shortage of food or water or nesting material. There were no predators. The only adversity was the limit on space.

I do wonder about the possibilities of inbreeding affecting the result.

After day 600, the social breakdown continued and the population declined toward extinction. During this period females ceased to reproduce. Their male counterparts withdrew completely, never engaging in courtship or fighting. They ate, drank, slept, and groomed themselves – all solitary pursuits. Sleek, healthy coats and an absence of scars characterized these males. They were dubbed “the beautiful ones.” Breeding never resumed and behavior patterns were permanently changed.

Will this be our fate? Who knows? I begin to think it unlikely, though - despite the so-called "herbivore men" in Japan acting like the male mice in the above experiment.

Humanity does tend to fight itself. As a species we've always been open to stealing stuff from each other, taking what others have put together, killing others if they protest. Or killing those who attempt to steal from us.

Despite civilization being put together to keep those tendencies overtly in check, there have always been criminals with us. Thugs, rapists, thieves, highwaymen, mafia, tongs. You name it, they're out there - and they're not going away. Even many of our so-called "enlightened leaders" are sub-rosa nothing less than rapacious.

Hell, we're preparing for another bout of this now. The brightest and most competent are refusing to breed because of the existential misery they're in. While hordes of single mommies are busy popping out thugspawn in their vain effort to self-medicate the modern social hell we are in away. Coupled with a lack of adequate civilizing influence, these thugspawn drop to the lowest common denominator of social constructs: the gang.

Is there a new world-war on the horizon? Perhaps, starting with the destruction of either Europe or the Middle East. In a way it's long overdue: time to relieve some major tensions by killing everything that is the Other. Especially the "racist" Other that is delighting in the destruction of our women and children.

Or perhaps not. If sanity can prevail (which we look to be striving for) then perhaps we can simply push the Other back into their own spaces and only kill them if they attempt to kill or overrun us. The West now appears to be pushing back against the insanely self-destructive leftist and feminist zeitgeist which has been running riot ruining us.

In the old days, civilization in the form of the British Empire pushed back against the criminals. They could have slaughtered them (and often did hang the worst) - yet many were deported to Australia. Other malcontents voluntarily went to America and Australia and New Zealand, seeking better lives. Similar separation between desirables and undesirables can be done in the modern times.

In America, just throw all the leftists and crazies into California. Or into the major cities. An informal self-segregation of the sane from the insane has already happened in many cases.

Perhaps it needs to be more formalized.

Social Deconstruction: Graffiti Is The New Normal

A while back a friend of mine (reasonably recently divorced) pointed out a good looking girl to me. I looked at her. Arm tats to the max - instant drop in value IMO. I told him straight out that seeing that, my instant thought was: "Another heavy smoking, heavy drinking, tattooed slut-whore."

They're everywhere.

So some of the men over at /r/MGTOW recently had a little comment about tattooed girls and guys. Things to the effect of (in Japan) someone with tattoos can't get into a public bath or pool (or hot springs?) because their tattoos immediately identify them as being criminal/thug class (Yakuza). Access is denied.

About the only good thing the Japanese have going for them at the moment, given their decline. It won't last much longer. Inertia is (slowly) kicking in - for some Japanese women, a small (tasteful) tattoo is permitted on the ankle (prime slut-tell).

One of the other comments was beautiful, along the lines of thinking that tattoos are body-graffiti. You tag alley walls, fences, the sides of train wagons. You don't tag anything of value. When you tag your body, you show it (and you) is of little value.

In your own opinion, which the world will happily agree with.

Abso-fuckin'-lutely.

There's a campervan hire bunch, Wicked Campers, been pissing off "the straights" for the last couple of years. The reason: most of the vans are graffiti'd with various messages.

Most of the messages are just inane. "Smoking is cool." Huh. Basically non-PC, rebellious stuff like that. Sometimes it's way more off-the-wall: Snow White giving one of the Dwarf's a blow-job.

The NZ Government censor (whatever his name is) was up on the morning news recently, dribbling about it while I was eating breakfast. Apparently they're going to start censoring these vans. Amusingly, as I left the hotel, I ran across one of the vans. Basically it didn't look like a car, it looked like a mobile chunk of shit-awful graffiti.

Twenty years ago, the car would probably have been covered up with something - paint, though tar and feathers would be a good choice. Fifty years ago it would have gotten the owner straight into jail.

Inertia. This is becoming the new normal.

Graffiti the world. Graffiti your body. Graffiti your possessions.

Show, aggressively, to the world that the stuff you buy is shit - you know it - and that you glorify in it. You delight in your excess consumption, your wastefulness, of buying utter crap that you don't need. You delight in your hedonistic exhibition of personal trashiness, your personal revulsion of your own body, your personal destruction of your own psyche, your personal rubbing of your literal shit onto all the walls and bodies of the world and the people around you.

Violate everything in a deeply personal way.

Give it a few years. Yeah. This is normal.

For me, it is time to be selfish again. It seems to be involuntary at the moment - a mixture of not much to say, generally being completely fed up with the world and everything, and just wanting to be alone for a while.

I need to read something a little different from work-related shit. In private. No distractions at all.

Amusing, all the fucktards - especially women - who give you stupid looks. "You want to be alone? Butbutbut ... why?"

Because I'm a wolf, not a fucking sheep. Because I'm a loner, not a fucking herd-animal. Because I find - or make - a warm place to sleep, not huddle in a shifting mass where those at the outside periphery get cold while everyone constantly struggles to stay in the middle where it's nice and warm and comfy.

The price of being a sheep is boredom - which is why the herd-brained, r-selected, bottom-feeders of Planet Zero follow an endless, desperate, hedonistic search for someone else to masturbate their body against for a bit. Before splitting apart again, bouncing around aimlessly in their own version of brownian motion, before adhering once more to another body to masturbate against for a little bit more.

Rinse and repeat. Endlessly, endlessly.

On the surface: lust. Underneath: pain. Society resounds with a mindless, flatulent, dreary drone of hopeless despair. (Thank you Michael Shea, for your book: Nifft the Lean. For anyone interested, the image is from a short-story entitled: The Fishing of the Demon-Sea.)

Why?

Because I cannot stand the thought of catering to someone else all the time.

Because I want to die alone without being bothered by anyone, in the interim and in the end.

I will probably be back reasonably soon. It's weird: resolve to take some time off, because you're running out of ideas and what you're writing feels flat and stale and empty - and bang, the juice starts flowing again.

For the moment: it is time for some freedom, my own way.

I hope you make the time to find the same.

What you get for being single

Terrence Popp says it like it is:

Definitely worth listening to a couple of times - we (or at least I) sometimes forget or get momentarily distracted.

Definitely worth reviewing his other video's also!

And remember: if you have a twenty to spare from all the cash you've saved, sling it their way so that they can continue to do a fine job.

Valentines Day Again

So yes, it's valen-shit day again. That time of year when so many of teh wimminz have a whimper and whine because they don't have a maaaaan...

...because they really need a man like a fish needs a bicycle...

...fuckin' mentally-disconnected fuckin' retards.

So this misanthrope, who knows what a crock of marketing shit that valen-shit day really is, wants no truck with the damn thing at all. My current squeeze is not getting squat unusual today, though I did respond to her text yesterday. She's all ga-ga that we've been "together" for a year.

It tells us something when a woman is all ga-ga about being in a relationship for a year. Not that she's objectionable, after giving her an earful for the times when she thoughtlessly sent messages when I'm working or trying to sleep. (The number of stupid bitches that I've had to send a "don't ever contact me after 9pm unless we're fucking" text. Unbelievable. High-stress work and stupidly-entitled bitches do not mix.)

After being called out this morning, I get into here and respond to a comment. During which I notice that right now, clicking on my posts brings up this cute little spray of hearts. Fuuuuck, ram it down my throat without asking, you wankers at Blogger. That's what you get when you use free software, tough shit for me.

Try not to get too distracted by the cutesy shit. I'm wondering if these wankers will start having cute little sprays of fucking unicorns next, shitting out rainbows, to show my involuntary support for the LGBTQ-fucking-whatever brigade.

So back to valen-shit day. I had the misfortune to hear (for a few minutes) some entitled bitch broadcaster on the radio having a surreptitious whine on the air about not having a man.

Her: "What am I doing for Valentines Day? Nothing. I can't be bothered any more, am too lazy."

Too lazy HAHAHAHAHAHH!!! Ex-fucking-actly. Women are too lazy to put any effort into things, so they miss out.

But more, lets translate this saying from woman-spin into reality: "What am I doing for Valentines Day? Nothing. I have no money and no man to spend money on me. Further, no man will give me the time of day. I don't attract men who are willing to do stuff for me like I used to, I don't know why..."

Now there is a bit of black truth for you, straight from teh wimminz's mouth. In a bit I will wash the schadenfreude down with a nice glass of ice-cold water (it's summertime in NZ and shit-awful hot). It's also damn awesome, looking out over the view from my deck, from under my sun-umbrella.

It's hard to believe that I've been writing all sorts of stuff up here for the past 4 years. Never thought that I'd have that many words in me to spill out.

Privacy and Self Protection

I've just finished two books, by JJ Luna:

• How To Be Invisible
• Invisible Money

These two books are essential reading if you happen to be a MGTOW who wants to go full Ghost. Even applied to a lesser degree by an ordinary person, they are useful simply to protect your own privacy (ie from lunatic stalker women or lawsuit-happy motherfuckers). Also be aware that unless you actively work on having some privacy people can find out whatever they want to know about you.

We have no privacy in our modern society. In fact the younger generation have no concept of privacy: they're a stream-of-consciousness everything dirty that should be private is put up for the delectation of others plus for the next 100+ years of public scrutiny on Facecrap mess. Drunkenness, drug use, sex, whatever.

("We Still Kill The Old Way (2014)" - a movie of how some shit youth gang video'd a beating that killed the victim, put it up on the dark web, and then got tracked down and killed by the victim's brother and cronies. An underrated movie IMO, I recommend it.)

Like insurance, setting up for privacy requires preparation. Luckily it's actually quite easy for you guys to do over in America, I'm gonna have to take some time here in NZ to see what I can manage. My options are limited. Here's some basic things you can think about:

• You want a PO Box that is not linked to your real address.
• You want cash that nobody else knows about.
• You want a bank account that nobody else knows about.
• You want a car not linked to your name.
• You want a home not linked to your name.

The first book goes into the details (I'm sure you can figure out how to get both books anonymously). This is just the cliff's notes of why, what for, etc.

Asset protection. Seriously. America is a bunch of lawsuit-happy nutjobs. If there's an accident, they decide to check you out and find that you have assets, *bang* lawsuit. No assets, fuckit, they won't waste their time.

Privacy. Suppose that crazy stalker chick tries to find out where you live. She's going to have to go to a lot more effort than just looking up your name in the phone book to find the address, phone number, whatever. Even when it's unlisted it can be tracked down legally or illegally. (I've had this happen myself, luckily ending up well. Even so I didn't like finding out that literally anyone could get my home phone number and address so easily.)

You may literally have to up-stakes and move out really fast. It could be for a job opportunity elsewhere. It could be to get away from some *real* psycho bitch or crazy bastards who've decided that they're going to harass you for shits and giggles or to drive you out of an area or whatever. (Anyone who starts out saying something aggro like "let those pieces of shit try it, I'll..." has never dealt with real crazies. These fuckers just do not care. It comes down to a choice of: 1/ move with no forwarding address, 2/ kill them as tracelessly as possible. And while the cops cannot/will not protect you from harassment, they sure as shit will hunt you down and throw you in jail for murder.)

So you need to be able to get OUT. As tracelessly as possible. Minimal footprint. Which means that your day-to-day life also needs to be as traceless and minimal footprint as possible. Only your nearest and dearest that you trust absolutely actually know where you live and have real phone numbers. Nobody else. Nobody else visits. Work only knows a PO Box and a physical address where you used to stay a long time ago. No girls are brought to your place. You don't have parties. You toss your burner phone regularly.

You can see why this is more for MGTOW going ghost. It would cramp the PUA lifestyle something serious. That said, some of it would be of great benefit to them also.

How To Get Started:

Pay cash. This ensures that you don't leave an electronic footprint of purchases. Remember that while all banks and ATMs have cameras, we're not assuming that you're on the criminal side and running from the law. You just don't want some asshole Joe Public sticking their nose into your (electronic) private affairs. If you bought it cash there's no electronic record of *who* and *what* and *where* that money went.

Put cash aside. A diversion safe is easy enough to make at home, you can pay cash for a wall safe and install it yourself somewhere unusual. Leave a small amount, say $50-100, in the top drawer of your bedside cabinet. A burglar (or your thieving fucking girlfriend) will go to the master bedroom first, check out the drawers, grab the money and split - most likely without destroying anything or looking anywhere else.

You don't need much to start with. A simple $20-50 a week will build up over a couple of years to be quite substantial ($20 * 100 weeks = $2000, $50 * 100 weeks = $5000, etc). Being a Man you are going to be naturally frugal - it will build up surprisingly fast.

If you want something in another bank-account, the same principle applies. Build up some cash (say a month's worth) and deposit it. No electronic transfer, no way to trace it. Simple, easy, no problems at all. (Note: Do not check the account via internet banking. Even if SSL is private - debatable - there's no way to disguise that you've gone to X bank's website. If things go sour, someone official will end up checking and will get answers.)

Women waste everything. We know this. Never allow her to know that you have a stash at all, let alone how much or where. Shred everything, preferably at work so that she'll never dream of it's existence. Seriously consider having two or three different stashes, just in case you fuck up and one is revealed.

You Want Options:

These things are easily doable if you have options. However, you may find yourself in a situation where you don't feel that you have certain options. Particularly if you're in a shithole marriage without full control of your finances and you want out - or at least, you want options rather than being stuck forever as her yes-ma'am, yes-ma'am, three-bags-full-ma'am slave.

Don't despair, it's time to get sneaky.

The chances are high that you (the man) do a substantial amount of shopping by yourself because she's too lazy. Families (two or more people) also eat a shitload, often shopping for food 3-4 times a week. An extra $10-20 can come out every trip, just throw away the receipt in the garbage at the store and stash the cash. She will not know.

If you're paying cash for meals, the occasional $5-10 notes can quietly disappear. Very effective if you eat out because she's too fucking useless to cook and insists on takeout/drive-through/dining out a couple of times a week. (Or more...)

Refueling the car: families seem to find themselves gassing up quite a lot, 2-3 times a week. Probably because cupcake has a "lets go out and eat/shop/whatever" mentality, plus going to visit her friends, and taking the kidlets to school/doctor/ballet/rugby/whatever. An extra $5-10 a time will not be noticed, especially these days.

Add those three situations up: $10 * 3 spending situations * 3 occurrances each = $90 a week that is off cupcake's radar. That's a substantial nest-egg of $9,000 over two years. You can probably get a helluva lot more, plus extras: bonus checks that are cashed, under-the-table jobs on the grey/black market, moonlighting, get inventive. She doesn't know exactly how much you got for doing such-and-such on the quiet for so-and-so. She doesn't even have to know you're doing stuff on the quiet, it could be just another bloody late night working or chewing the fat with Bob.

You can probably get a beater car or motorcycle for less than $1k (anonymously), get it roadworthy for $1k (cash repair), and still have $7,000 cash money for gas and food (with mobile shelter too if you get the car). That's good enough if you decide to pull the pin and get the fuck outta dodge.

Going Scorched Earth Option:

Let's say that cupcake has decided to go full-apeshit-frivorce on you. She wants the house, car, kiddies, alimony for life, files charges of domestic violence and ongoing rape, she "fears for the children", the fucking works.

You decide: Fuck this.

You go the whole hog. Lawyers, lawsuits, delays, mental and emotional stress that gets you fired (ongoing so you're unemployable or suitable for only light employment), the works. Suck down every damned cent of the family assets in fees and lawyers and shit. NOTHING left. NO alimony 'cause you have no income. MINIMAL child-support that you'll somehow manage to scrape together with odd jobs here'n there.

You still have your hidden assets, you can still get money on the grey/black market, etc. You can still have a fine life. You can still get the shit outta dodge if you want. All these options are still open to you.

Sneaky Nuke The Cunt From Orbit Option:

Let's say that you got eyes, you can see the shit-storm coming down the fuckin' pike. It's time to pre-emptively and sneakily nuke the cunt from orbit.

Empty out as much as possible of the bank-account. Gamble some of it away, stash the rest. Nobody is gonna be tracking how much you lost at so-and-so's casino.

Max out the credit cards (if she hasn't done that to you already). Same shit different day with "gambling" it away. Buy some stuff that is worth something (or stuff you already own that is worth something), sell it to a really good friend for a dollar. He sells it on to another really good friend for a dollar. ("I don't have it.") Once the shit-storm dies down in a year or two you can go buy it for a dollar from them. No trace, no comeback, you gambled it away. (Just keep it outta sight.)

So cupcake has the house and contents (selling that shit from under her would probably be considered malicious - not advisable). You're living on a mate's couch - and you are expected to pay cupcake's mortgage. Not a problem if you happen to live in one of those states where jingle-mail is allowed. Mail those fuckin' keys in to the bank, her squatter ass is their problem now. (Make sure that you have the original keys and documents and that she only has copies. Preparation is key - pun intended.)

So the credit cards are maxed out and I hope that you got your dues out of them. Understand that those are unsecured debt, just like any other loan (you did get a loan, didn't you?). You don't have to pay them - despite the motherfuckin' bullshit mores of society. Let them lay, just like the mortgage. Go bankrupt. Fuck it, you still have your hidden stash.

Notice that these actions are concealed and appear to be passive. You're not deliberately fucking cupcake over. You just got yourself into this bad situation that snowballed...cupcake was probably right to kick your ass to the kerb...

Best part: you're taking her down as sneakily as possible.

What About The Childreeeeeen:

The nasty sticking-point. If there are no children, then anything goes. It's between two adults, one of them carefully prepared (you) and one of them brainless but with lots of legal and social advantages (her). You will covertly win - even though you publicly lose - and you will bounce back way better than she ever can.

If children are involved, you have a very hard choice to make. No matter what they will be caught in the cross-fire. She will turn them into weapons, using them ruthlessly against you in an effort to cause you maximum emotional pain.

At this point you have nothing to lose by being a nasty piece of work and fucking her over to the bitter end.

Whatever happens, the children will be hurt. Whatever happens, you will almost certainly not gain custody. Whatever happens, you will most likely not get the visitation rights as you are entitled to and were agreed upon - she will likely do her damndest to keep you away from them. If she chose to play the "I fear for the children" card then you will never see them until they are whatever legal age, probably 18+ - yet still be expected to pay for them.

Understand, no matter what, your children will *not* starve. The government will not allow it, that would be political suicide. The government *will* pay your ex a certain minimum, she *will* get food-stamps and the like (in the USA). If for some reason she neglects the children (assuming she's that type) then they *will* take them away from her.

If you literally have nothing (known) left anyway, then you might decide that you may as well nuke the cunt from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

It's also better than being a meek lapdog, taking it up the ass from all-and-sundry while the children watch - minds being deliberately poisoned - as they develop contempt for you as a person...

On that rather grim note, good luck with your preparations for privacy and a possible new beginning in life. Later.

Why Marriage Is Fraud

No-Ma'am is bringing it back again, with timely (and updated) reminders of why our modern Marriage 2.0 is a massive fraud:

Before the 1860’s, if a woman decided to leave her husband, she had to leave the children behind, which were a product of the marriage, because property rights dictated that he had “paid” for them, and thus they were his property, and not hers. He did not “own” her person, but in marriage he did “own” her reproductive ability and the products thereof.

The transferring of these “property rights” back to the woman, when in fact they were the basis of the economic contract of marriage, diminished the validity of marriage enormously. It is interesting to note that the divorce rate has risen steadily from this point onward.

Keep in mind, women have always had the ability and natural right to have their own children. No-one ever stopped a woman from shagging some knave in the bushes after he had been swilling mead in a medieval tavern. It may have been frowned upon by society, but illegitimate children have been born since the beginning of civilization. It was a social stigma that women should not do this because it was widely known that the woman would be bringing a child into the world under an enormous disadvantage if she and the child were not coupled to the labour (and discipline) of a father. But, she owned her sexuality and if she wanted to have children with it, she most certainly could.

But, the contract of marriage is, in every sense, the contract of a woman selling children to a man. The right of a man to “own” what he paid for was dealt a mortal blow in the 1860’s when he lost the previously unchallenged right to “own” what he had paid for in marriage, that being his children.

Now, all through up until the 1970’s, marriage was still viewed as a legal contract. It was a given that both parties had an obligation to uphold such a contract just as within any other economic or legal contract.

If you wanted to leave you still could. No-one was stopping you. But, as with any contract, if you breached your contract you would be the one that was penalized for it.
If you wanted to leave and receive the benefits from the marriage, or rather, be compensated for the breach of contract of the other party, you had to prove they were at fault in order to sue for compensation. This makes sense, doesn’t it?

Therefore, there were many things which constituted “fault.” Adultery, alcoholism, mental insanity, cruelty, physical abusiveness amongst a host of others all constituted “fault.” If you were at fault, you could expect to lose your rights as set forth in the contract. But even so, if there was no fault and you still wanted to leave, no-one was stopping you. You were not put in jail for leaving, but you were found to be at fault for “abandonment,” and therefore lost all of your rights as set forward in the contract – and you would be liable for any “damages” caused by your “fault.”

That seems fair to me. All contracts are set forth in this manner. That is why they are contracts. A contract says that if you behave in such and such manner and don’t deviate out of that behaviour, you will be compensated with a guarantee of this and this behaviour from the other party. Step out of these guidelines and you will be legally liable, stay within them and your rights will be guaranteed.

But, in the 1970’s, the ever wise feminists declared that it was far too difficult to find fault in people’s complex personal relationships, and therefore “No Fault Divorce” was implemented, again with the aid of the heavy hand of the courts. (Odd, isn’t it? They have no troubles at all finding “fault” in cases of domestic violence.)

So what have we got left here?

WE HAVE A FRAUDULENT CONTRACT MASQUERADING AS MARRIAGE!

What was originally based on a woman “selling” a man the ability to have his own children and taking his surplus labour as “payment,” has become a woman having children of HER own and still taking a man’s surplus labour as “payment” for that which she is NOT selling. THAT IS FRAUD!

If you go to a car dealership and buy a shiny new car, you might sign on the dotted line and agree to make payments for the next five years, but it is implied in the contract that you own the car.

The dealership cannot decide 6 months later that they want the car back, show up at your house, and just take it. And certainly they cannot force you to make the next 54 payments on it if they take it away from you with no breach of contract on your part. It is your property and they have no right to it. To suggest otherwise would be to suggest you signed a fraudulent contract. To suggest that you would still have to pay for gas, maintenance, and insurance after they sell it to someone else because “it is in the best interests of the car” is to suggest an insanely fraudulent contract.

Yup.

But this is what we are left with in the marriage contract.

The man gets none of the property or rights which the contract was originally based upon, but the “vendor” still has the right to make you into this:

“Hyahhh! Move it, you strong ox!” bellows the ex-wife. “You are divorced now with no legal rights to what you thought you paid for, so start pulling this plow! No more lazing around for you, slave! MY children and I own your labour! You own nothing!”

MARRIAGE SHOULD BE OUTLAWED!

MARRIAGE IS FRAUD!

DO NOT ENTER INTO FRAUDULENT CONTRACTS!

Nope, let the little ladies and their childrengo back to living like this:

Have nothing to do with them.
Do not oppress them with marriage.
Do not oppress them by allowing them to live in your nice home.
Do not have sex with them. All sex is rape, dontcha know?
Do not donate sperm. That now makes you liable to be a slave too.

Again, make sure you do not oppress one single one of them with marriage. Do you hate women or something? Why would you want to oppress one of them with marriage, you misogynist! Put down that Bride magazine, mister. We know what you are thinking... now move on and think more wholesome thoughts.

Do not burden a single one of them with a child. Women can’t stand kids and would like to have nothing to do with them.

And, most certainly, DO NOT pay anyone for a product they have no intention of actually “selling” to you.

Do not feel you are obligated to work like a fool to pay taxes which support “the herd” of single and divorced mothers along with their feral children. You are not responsible to pay for someone else's property.

You don’t owe the herd anything. They don’t even want you to be part of the herd.

You are not responsible to be an economic performer who props up herd living with your labour while receiving nothing in return except a pat on the head along with a “good boy.” There are plenty of manginas who will prop up the herd until it can’t be propped up anymore. Let them work like dolts in an unsustainable system for someone else’s benefit then.

Give them as few tax dollars as possible.

Men should go back to only expending 20-30% of their labour ability, so they can return to living like this:

Why in the hell would you want to oppress one of those tricksters with Patriarchy?

Why even bother with a cow that doesn't give milk? Let alone pay for one.

DON'T MARRY!!!

It lowers divorce rates and cuts back on fraud.

Enjoy your freedom, my brothers.

Changes to Life

The decision is made.

I used to be a mid-sized businessman, along with a couple of other guys. No more.

In a month, that all ends. I become an anonymous employee. Faceless amongst the crowd of the ordinary Men. Unseen, unremarked, unremarkable. Not going full-on Ghost, not standing out of the crowd either. My own cloak of self-chosen invisibility.

I become a chameleon, ordinary, hidden in plain sight - going through life unremarked, while still exposing the black poison in the soul of the world.

The Dark Man.

In a way, it's a relief.

Let me explain.

Part of what I worked for - sweated blood for - went to my ex-cunt in the form of ongoing dividends. She gets a final payout as things are shut down. Then, no more. (There's a certain amount of pleasure in shafting her that way. Greedy whore.)

Sure, as a businessman I earned six figures. As an employee I still earn six figures. Somewhat less than before. I can live with that.

As an employer, we had to deal with a lot of drivel. Employees were never a problem. We hired cautiously and well.

Business customers were tough to deal with. Late payers. Never-payers. Dragging your chain around. Advising a customer to do X because of Y, and being completely ignored. Getting ranted at when Y happens, telling them: "Hey, we advised X to protect you from Y. You chose to ignore it." More ranting ensuing. Firing customers. Threats of lawyers.

Stupidity uber allez.

Dealing with business stuff. Insurance. Key person insurance, indemnity insurance, X/Y/Z insurance. Accounting. Deductables. Cash-flow. P.A.Y.E. Overtime. Call-outs. New customers. Old customers. Reputation. Training. Schmoozing.

No time to take holidays. To the point of accumulating months of holidays. I have literal months of accumulated leave. No time, no time.

The worst, though: the IRD - the Inland Revenue Department. The taxman. Investigations. Squeaky-clean, we've taken pains to do it all right and above-board. The New Zealand Government keeps changing things, though. Accountants, lawyers, accountants, lawyers, accountants, lawyers. Having the accountants and lawyers say that you're good - and the taxman saying "not so fast boys".

Sorting that out, over and over and over. Opinions. He said, she said, from Accountants and Lawyers. Precedent. What precedent? That precedent! Doesn't apply.

It all leaves you...tired.

I swear, the New Zealand Government hates business. Which is ironic, because it's business which generates jobs and taxes and shit which keeps society and the government going.

So they tie you up in a shitton of red-tape and make you jump through fuckin' hoops. Just like modern narcissistic women having their shits-and-giggles with guys. We are the business-PUA, dancing like monkeys and jumping through the hoops for government validation.

Government. Taxmen. Morons. The fuckin' lot of 'em.

Now, a final judgement from the taxcrapman. Never mind years prior. Never mind the Accountants opinions. Never mind the Lawyers opinions and precedents. Nope.

So. We could fight it more. But fuck it - shut down instead. We're all tired of this bullshit. Time to cash in the business.

I had various options. I thought of taking some of them. Early retirement - sell the house, sell the business, sell the investments. An easy good-sized chunk of cash in hand. Overseas. Internet business. Freelancing. That good shit.

Live in a van down by the river. More accurately, a campervan on the road. Travel New Zealand. My ultimate retirement plan, earlier than planned on, but what the fuck.

Or become an employee. Somewhat less paid. A shitload less bullshit to deal with.

Less to feed the slavering beast that is New Zealand's Leftist Government. Less stress in life. And - holy Mary, Mother of God! - actually being able to take holidays.

Plus, still accumulating for: holidays, ultimate retirement, and wtf might as well try a small-time internet business idea or two. Who cares if it fails, it's something dumb and stupid to putz around with.

My private time - my private life - no longer involves keeping as much as possible coming in and as much as possible out of the taxman's hands. No more long hours working on proposals for customers which will be ignored. No more long hours keeping things going. No more long hours keeping the taxman from grabbing at everything that's not nailed down.

Starve that lice-and-tick-infested beast. Let someone else have that stress of making jobs for these leftists to suck the lifeblood out of. It's playtime...

...more time for me...

...more time to do things like walk through the bush and along the beaches and up mountains.

Still here. Just gonna be somewhat busy and distracted for a while. As the last bits of crapola are sorted out over the next 3-6 months. As we give the taxman and government the metaphorical final finger. As things are wound down, shuttered, boarded up, closed.

Peace. Time to bask in the sun. Time to look up at the stars. Time to laze on the beach. Time to smell the grass. Time to bathe in the sea. Time to relax.

Time simply to be and enjoy life in my own way.

What Do You Like To Do?

Back on my post about Personal Time and Space is Golden for Men, commentor Anonymous shared this little gem:

When I got divorced, I did go to a counselor, a very wise guy, and the first thing he asked me was "what do you like to do"?. I had no answer. He spent the next couple of months talking about what I'd like to do. I felt like one of those escaped animals that was totally bewildered.

This especially has stuck with me: "He spent the next couple of months talking about what I'd like to do."

Given that I've been effectively defining MGTOW (again) recently - and a whole bunch of the PUAsphere has been basically telling lies about and shit-slinging at MGTOW (again) recently - I decided that it was long past time and very much worth looking into this more closely.

As per the above, a lot of men seem to come out of the divorce/frivorce bullshit-and-meatgrinder with - nothing.

I'm not talking work, money, homes, things, self-esteem, whatever. I'm not talking child custody. I'm not talking having to pay alimony or child-support. I'm not talking visitation rights. I'm not talking being forced to live on a mate's couch or in a van down by the river for a year or two. I'm not talking any of that stuff. That's simply incidental crap that you have to deal with in life. Big stuff, sure, yet it isn't the core of your life.

I'm talking the answer to the simplest question in life: What do you like to do?

For most of these shell-shocked and battered men, the answer seems to be: What?

It almost seems like their personal desires, enjoyments, and fun have all been erased from their being.

They've been around their woman so long, she's worked on and molded him so long, that he doesn't seem to have something personal left. It almost seems like a form of brainwashing: everything has been turned and fine-tuned to the purpose of catering for her and the children.

There's nothing left that is uniquely him any more.

Perhaps that's why the divorce/frivorce occurred. He's literally not the man that she married. Much or all of his individuality has been wiped away, replaced with an interchangeable robot who can do not much more than acquiesce to whatever her desires are. So she leaves because he's not what she fell in love with - no duh, stupid.

Keoni Galt recently made a comment on a post of mine, something like: Surfers surf, hunters hunt, divers dive, gamers game. Drawing the line.

Strangely enough, you can ask this of many women also: What do you like to do?

It's a peculiar thing. I wonder if this is kind of what caused feminism. Betty Frieden, The Feminine Mystique, "The Problem That Has No Name". Bored, dissatisfied, didn't have any real interests of her own. So she blamed men for her lack of interests. Blamed men for her dissatisfaction. Blamed men for her boredom.

So she wrote about it, blaming and whining about men. It went viral. Eventually blaming men and complaining about men and whining about men - aka man-bashing - became the favorite sport and pastime of women in the Western world.

Bob Wallace once made a comment on a post of mine: Women want license.

Men gave it to them.

Men are hated for it.

Ironic. Hated for giving women what they want. The old Arab proverb: "Women want fried ice." You can never satisfy them - don't waste your time trying.

We've noted before, women as chameleons - women as empty vessels - their interests become that of their man. Sometimes it's an act and you can catch the slip. Sometimes it might be sincere. You can't be absolutely certain.

Back to these men. There's nothing left that is uniquely him any more.

What do you like to do? Anonymous went for a couple of months exploring that question. I think that you found the wisest counselor possible, when he and you went over and over that.

Many shell-shocked men wander into the manosphere, trying to figure out what the fuck happened to them. They followed the socially-approved script/recipe of: marry, get a house, have kids, kids move out, retire with big bucks and enjoy your life.

Only for some reason the script/recipe fell apart there, generally well before the "kids move out" stage. They sure as shit didn't make it to the "retire with big bucks and enjoy your life" stage.

An anecdotal 51% divorce rate - I decided to check on this. I got on to Wolfram|Alpha and did some searches, however I was very unsatisfied by the results. Very unclear - maybe someone else can wrangle the right questions. So I went to the CDC to find out what the rates were in America: Marriage and Divorce (2011) (provisional):

• Number of marriages: 2,118,000
• Marriage rate: 6.8 per 1,000 total population
• Divorce rate: 3.6 per 1,000 population (44 reporting States and D.C.)

Note that they don't state outright "number of divorces", only "number of marriages". They also say that divorces are reported from some states, implying that marriages are from all states (so the divorce numbers are low). Doing some basic mathematics:

3.6 / 6.8 * 100 = 52.94% of marriages end in divorce

52.94% * 2,118,000 = 1,121,269 divorces

That's a fuckload of both blank-slate and really-pissed-off Men thrashing around uselessly in American society - in a single year.

So some of them wander into the manosphere, get a whole bunch of answers from the PUAsphere, and go out there looking to get laid. Partly it can be attributed to the general "this is what a man does" attitude coupled with the feminist/leftist shaming tactics that're common out there. Plus they've got no other answer to the question of what they like to do. (Perhaps that is another reason why I didn't go down the PUA track. I had things that I liked to do. I wasn't completely erased/deprogrammed at the point of my divorce/frivorce.)

Some of these Men end up being turned into Social Robots. (As Style/Neil Strauss once remarked upon in The Game.)

Some Men come to the realization: I don't really like doing that.

So they are forced back to the basic question again: What do you like to do?

Poor bastards end up blank-faced as they say: I 'ontno.

It appears that a good chunk of what goes on visibly in MGTOW is at the stage of: "I don't really like doing that." Which is kind of hard to get across to the guys who are still in the Social Robot stage of things. Which is why the PUAsphere seems to be tossing out the feminist/leftist shaming tactics as they attempt to stereotype MGTOW as "bitter loser neckbeards who can't get laid". Anything to keep their demographic growing from the influx of poor confused bastards.

Which is no help at all for the poor bastards who are in the stage of asking themselves: "What do I like to do?" (By the way there are a *lot* who don't get to the internet to do this - they manage it by themselves. Some even come on here and find MGTOW after years of doing their own thing. They're surprised that what they do is "a thing" with a name.)

Any rate. They're trying to sort out things in their heads and they're being bombarded with bullshit shaming tactics (h/t to commentor LosAngelesKing). They're trying to answer an existential question for themselves and they're basically being dumped on with female tactics once more - they're losing their personal time and space (cue reading the linked post again) because of having other men dumping on them and not leaving them alone.

The real answer to these feminist/leftist shaming tactics is something along the lines of: "Fuck off and let me be while I try and work out what I want to do with my life."

In a weird and twisted way there is no male safe-space for Men anywhere, even away from other men, to relax and get a break from the fuckin' bullshit.

I wonder if that's why many MGTOW disappear from the internet. They need their time and space - they've got a ton of monkey-poo getting thrown their way - they finally get disgusted and say "fuck off and die you sack-of-shit cunts!" and leave. So that they at least have some personal fuckin' peace and quiet while they sort themselves out with the next stage of answering for themselves that age-old question:

What do you like to do?

Freedom Your Own Way

I think that for Men, as we become more disgusted by the women that are available out there -

- vivacious
- flighty
- fickle
- shallow
- silly
- dramatic
- pathetic
- sad
- slutty
- insane
- disease-ridden
- cum-buckets

- I think that we finally reach the ultimate point of no return.

We look at these things. These creatures called women. We look at what they bring into our lives. We think: "Why bother?"

Then we decide.

It's done.

Hang up the hat.

Put away the suit.

Stop going out.

Stop interacting with them.

Go do your own thing.

Other things become of far more importance in your life. Even finding out about women becomes of lesser - perhaps no - importance. Documenting their silliness, their drama, their stupidity, their ultimate self-destructiveness and worthlessness.

Even documenting the myriad ways that they are heedlessly shattering their own hard-built (it took a lot of whining on their part /snark) safety-net that is called civilization and society.

Not important. Not to you.

Some Men do their thing - if a woman makes it very plain that she's interested he might fuck her, not really that important though. Some Men go heavy-duty celibate. Some Men go full-on Galt/Ghost.

Some Men wibble on about "levels of MGTOW". Who cares about the label. Really. It doesn't need to be categorized to death by some armchair academic who is watching from miles away and pulling theories out of their ass. Too much mental effort for something that you are simply experiencing and enjoying.

It's not important.

You've finally gone. Left even the most far-flung fringes of the plantation.

Your feet are on the trail, looking out over the plains of freedom. Not much thought for what you've left behind, beyond a vague thankfulness that it is behind you. All eyes, all thoughts, on what's ahead of you.

Step. Step. Step.

A profound and peaceful joy fills your being. Freedom speaks to you.

Step. Step. Step.

At the end of the day you camp, cooking over the fire.

You reflect on the past.

You laugh a little. Mostly at yourself. "Why did I bother with that? Why did I waste my time with that? Why did I take so long to wake up?"

When you turn in, you look up at the stars. You look at something that is as close to eternal beauty as is possible.

You drift to sleep with a smile on your face.

It's done.

A Man Betrayed

The old saying: "Hell hath no fury like a woman scored."

Cliche, with truth behind it, one which many men have taken deep wounds from.

I have a new saying for the modern age: "Purgatory has no indifference like a Man betrayed."

Modern women live in a lonely purgatory of their own making.

A purgatory of the indifference of Men. A purgatory of no trust from Men. A purgatory that gets emptier with every single betrayal perpetrated by a woman upon a Man.

Women need the validation of others: both women and men.

Women provide the "validation" of relationships, herdism, groupthink, and the joys of social networking - aka gossip, social maneuvering, and backstabbing. Men provide the "validation" of both sexual meaning and protectorship for a woman, plus providing resources for the building up and growth and protection of families.

Soon there will only be female validation of women - men's validation of women is rapidly going out the door.

No marriages. No protection. No chivalry. No support whatsoever. Only the random hands, mouths, and penises of a succession of one-night-stands. Grasping, taking, entering, leaving on the slightest stir of emotion and whim. A vibrator as she gets older and the penises become less-common.

It's a cold world for a woman when she must do it all on her own. No mountain of strength, no sheltering tree, to keep at bay the vicissitudes of a harsh world. No steady and strong arms to hold her close on a regular basis. No deep, mumbling, sleepy voice to say: "There, there...it'll be better in the morning..." as a caress reassures her.

Instead it's another lonely night for her, to pop an antidepressant, to down a bottle of wine, to cry herself to sleep in a newly-emptied bed.

Another night for me, to sip Grand Marnier in front of the fire, to enjoy a good meal, to read a good book, to try and think deeply about the world.

I wonder if she will hear us Men as we whisper to the air: "You showed us freedom, woman. Didn't you think we would reach out to make it our own?"
--------
Commentor Anonymous brings out the prefect turn of phrase to describe this situation - "betrayal fatigue":

Anonymous 

There is a thing called betrayal fatigue, and it's epidemic in men. 

Patient Zero is women.

It fits well. Thank you.

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.

Bull.

Shit.

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.

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

Slipping Camouflage

So, over the long weekend (ANZAC day, special here in New Zealand and in Australia) a guy I know asked me if I had plans or was available to go do something. (Long story that I'm not going to go into. Suffice to say it involved driving for about 6-8 hours, depending on the weather.)

Now, I had no intent for such a long trip. A guy needs to have some time to recharge, you know. Plus I wasn't spending my hard-earned cash on petrol for somebody else's benefit. I asked him: "Why don't you and X do it?" (X being his girlfriend.)

"X would kill me."

Now I thought that this was weird. This guy and his girlfriend enjoy doing the same things - the guy wanted it done really really badly - I figured his girlfriend would be happy to go along with him. If only just this once. Yet even so: "X would kill me."

After thinking about it for a while, I realized: his girlfriend is a well-disguised chameleon/predator. However, her camouflage has obviously slipped a few times in the past. Thus his comment, that she'll kill him if he does something like what he was wanting me to do. Even if he takes her along.

Me being single and all, I can do what I damned-well please. He cannot. Plus - which fuckin' annoys the shit out of me - he presumed that he could ask and I would chirpily say "sure!" and happily perform. Fuck that.

A little more reflection on him and his girlfriend and I realize: she must use emotional manipulation, mind-games, and that kind of thing on him quite a bit. Screaming shit-fits and the cold shoulder might ensue. You name it. Else there would not have been the fear to go and do something that he pretty overwhelmingly wanted to do.

Now, I've met his girl. While generically pretty, there's not much there. Obviously less than I thought, if she's that selfish that she'd fuck him around if she doesn't get what she wants. Which, from what I see today, included a fairly lavish brunch in a fairly upmarket restaurant. Must have cost $30-40 each, from what I saw. The girlfriend was across the table, looking generically cute, smiling at the cameraman: "It's all about meeeee!"

Guess who paid for it.

Guess who would *not* have been repaid for petrol and time or given a lavish brunch in a fairly upmarket restaurant.

At any rate, this leaves him catering to her all the time without being able to do what he wants at the drop of a hat.

Poor bastard. I wonder if he'll ever wake up.

Extra message: Protect your personal time. Lots of people will try to make use of it - if you let them.

Life Is Too Short

Back when on the Personal Time and Space is Golden For Men post, I realize that I didn't make one thing explicitly clear. These days your wife expects you to cater to her all the time. It's the same for children - they pick up that mentality from mommy. This is the "it's all about meeee!" mindset in action.

I suspect that this is also the mindset being expressed when mommy has to:

* take Jimmy to Rugby practice
* take Sue to her Ballet lessons
* take everybody to the school play
* and God help you if you miss any of this you selfish and unfeeling bastard!

In my time, kids were expected to get their asses outside and entertain themselves. None of this "I'm bored, entertain me!" crap was tolerated from us. We got told to get outside and run the piss outta ourselves, climb a fuckin' tree, play in the puddles, grab the boxes of toys, all that sorta shit. We weren't catered to. We had to entertain ourselves.

Women these days seem to have the urge to be catered to, and through some warped nuturing instinct seem to want to project/push similar onto their children. (Though I think that a good chunk of that is using the children as a scorecard too.)

It comes across in the whole modern female-to-male interaction. The Man is expected to entertain her. The Man is expected to provide for her. The Man is expected to take her out to interesting places. The Man is expected to get her interesting presents. The Man is expected to <insert whatever here>.

The Man is expected to be the slave. (The code-word for "provider" translates to "slave".)

It's your choice if you want to cater to somebody every. Fucking. Moment. Of. The. Day.

Awake, asleep, it doesn't matter.

In my view: life is too short to cater to somebody else all the time.

Remain in the Shadows

Another blogger is thinking of stepping out of the shadows and into the light (ie go public and say "this is me", etc). I just posted this to his blog:

You have a life to live, in the way that you wish to live it, as a professional. You don't intend to make a living with your lifestyle/writing. Unless you have an intent to be an author and make money - which in this world requires a face or posthumous publishing - then your life and goals are not served by stepping out from the shadows of the anonymous and into the light of the public eye. 

By doing so you are simply handing someone a stick with which to beat you, ammunition to use against you, in your life. Whether a man or woman. For whatever reason they may see fit - even because they "vaguely dislike you" or "just feel like it" because you "upset them". Or because they dislike your opinion and have decided to complain and take you down a peg or two (ie get you fired, like the idiot woman with the donglegate employees). 

Your private life, your private philosophy, your private goals and hopes and dreams, your private path to whatever - are your business. Not anybody else's. Putting them out there for all to see and associate with you personally is simply handing someone a free handle with which to manipulate you and jerk you around as they see fit. You would be allowing someone to hold everything about your life in their hand, for their amusement, for nothing of worth in return. 

Remain in the shadows.

This applies to all men. Don't gift someone with a free handle by which they can move you. Don't allow them the ability to screw with your life, emotions, dreams, goals.

All these things are yours. Never hand them to someone else gratuitously. You never know which nutjob will grasp that handle and attempt to move you around with it.

Remain free.

Worthless Grandparents

In my post on the Fuck'n'Chuck Generation, I stated about our Grandparents:

• being useless pieces of selfish shit who raised both the father and mother above (the general uselessness and sins of the grandparents being passed down to their grandchildren - with more generations to go)

It's actually a systemic problem which has occurred over several generations, each succeeding generation seemingly getting worse. It appears to have really hit hard at the time of the Baby Boomers (aka the Me Generation, the self-indulgent nongs who embraced flower-power and free love and hippiedom). Here are the Generations roughly defined (source):

• The Greatest Generation - these are the generations that experienced World War II. They are further split into: the G.I. Generation (born 1901-1924) and the Silent Generation (born 1925-1945). The G.I. Generation either fought in WWII or kept the home fires burning, the Silent Generation were the children who grew up during the war.

• The Baby Boomers - this is the generation that was born after WWII (born 1946-1964). They experienced space exploration and the first "counterculture".

• Generation X - these are the generations that experienced the Vietnam War and Cold War. They are further split into: the Baby Busters (born 1965-1980) and the MTV/Boomerang Generation (born 1975-1985).

• Generation Y - this generation experienced the rise of the information age, the internet, the War on Drugs, Iraq, and rising gas and food prices (born 1978-1995).

• Generation Z - this generation experienced the rise of the information age, the internet, various bubbles, and digital globalization (born 1995-2007).

The Grandparents who were worthless basically were the Baby Boomers. In some instances (mine) my Grandparents, members of the Greatest Generation, were not that flash either: my Grandparents ended up divorced too. My mother, a member of the Baby Boomers, was one selfish piece of shit who lucked out on her third try:

1. a single mommy (child given up for adoption)
2. married and divorced a criminal (after two children)
3. finally married a small-time businessman (with his brood of 4 children from a piece-of-shit woman)

On top of that she's still a selfish, whining piece of shit who hates how her life has gone. Instead of being grateful for that third try, which got her out of the shit single-/divorced-mommy trap she was in, she whines about hubby a lot. People who cannot see how fucking good they have it are fucking pathetic.

I was going to expand more upon how worthless these various Grandparents of the generations really were. Then I ran across this recent post from Amerika.org which states it far better than I can:

Kill the Boomers

In his post he explains exactly how selfish the Baby Boomers really are, the techniques of leftism that they used to hijack society, and how they slammed the social door upon their own children and every generation to come.

Some highlights:

It is significant that they emerged from the victorious powers of the Second World War. Generally when a child grows up with no consequences for his action and yet a sense of great entitlement, we call him a brat. The term “brats” is not often enough applied to the prolonged tantrum [My emphasis. - BPS] that was the 1960s, in which the children of the war revenged themselves on their parents by taking the philosophies those parents claimed to uphold and throwing them back at them.
...
The entire Baby Boomer mentality is one of finding exceptions and, using those to claim the invalidity of the philosophy that opposes whatever the Boomers desire, creating a justification that allows them to seize power. If you do not support freedom for everyone (it helps to slowly enunciate each syllable in this word to emphasize its importance) then you are bad, and the new generation should take over.

Now this is where my Generation takes a beating around the head'n'shoulders:

Generation X grew up thinking that the best thing they could do was to recapitulate the hippie era by acting out the ritual: drugs, sex, rebellion and then - just as the hippies did - cutting the hair, getting jobs and retreating to the suburbs from the broken-down society the hippie ideals had created.

This also strikes deeply - many have stated that Feminism is an extended infantile tantrum (see above also):

In addition to wanting complete personal liberation, which was a fit of pique [My emphasis. - BPS] at their parents, the Me generation formulated one other agenda. They wanted to close the door to all who followed. Like most radical individualists, they engaged in a combination of narcissism and solipsism which actively denied the world outside themselves except as it could be used for the benefit of themselves. Society existed to be the canvas upon which they painted their bright and beautiful existence. 

Selfish much? Familiar much? It gets way better:

As parents, the Me generation provided a paint-by-numbers example of how to utterly fail. Most divorced, and left their kids wondering if their own conception had not been a mistake; those who did not manipulated their children relentlessly, setting them up to fail and then using that failure as a justification to re-program their lives toward Baby Boomer objectives, which as always are to use ideology as a shield for the personal quest for power. They were narcissistic parents who hid their child abuse behind so many labyrinthine passages of logic that Generation X grew up baffled, belittled and most of all accustomed to instability. If Generation X has a symbol, it is the child’s bedroom with a door that locks; after the terror of the Boomers, they wanted nothing more than to retreat and have a space of their own to be inconsequential, mainly because their damaged brains and psyches needed time to figure themselves out.

So there we were, Generation X, repeating in a shell-shocked unthinking manner the narcissistic patterns of our fucked-up parents. With these two examples, no wonder Gen-Y and Gen-Z are so fucked up. We all followed the patterns we were shown, like good little robots, and passed them on:

Baby Boomers created hell in their wake. Narcissistic individuals tend to shut the door this way because to them, everyone but the self, and those who provide that canvas to make the self seem to be an angel of enlightenment, is an ideological enemy. To the Boomers, their children were the enemy. What if those children found enlightenment the Boomers did not? What if they did not agree with the 1968 agenda? Those were the worst children of all, and the best way to punish them was to create a trap, much as Baby Boomers were accustomed to setting up their children to fail and then seizing power when the children failed, much as the Boomers seized power when the Establishment had no answer to its new calls for peace, equality and freedom. All of these were justifications; the real goal was revenge, in destroying the world of their parents and those who followed after them. In short, to obliterate, erase, eradicate, pollute, corrupt, sabotage and vitiate everything but the Self. Baby Boomers saw themselves alone and for this reason they ran to ideas which “seemed” to be the opposite, such as egalitarianism, and used them as weapons.

In fact it looks like there were five generations (so far) involved in the bloody mess, counting my Grandparents (most other people's great- and sometimes great-great-grandparents). Read the entire thing and have a think about it. Read the comments too, they're very interesting.

Myself, I think it's time for the gym. At least I can work on improving myself, even if I don't think that there's any way to fix this fucked-over broken system that we've all had the misfortune to be brought into.

Fuck'n'Chuck Generation

This is what society has been boiled and rendered down to: we have become a fuck'n'chuck generation. Part of the reason is that we now view sex as recreation rather than procreation. Because of this the process of thought now goes as follows for a man:

• find a woman
• fuck her
• chuck her (no reason required plus she's easily replaceable)

The reasons why our society has devolved to this situation include the following:

• we have an incredibly rich civilization with tremendous surpluses
• we have devalued fatherhood/motherhood tremendously
• we have devalued manhood down to nothing
• we have near-foolproof birth-control
• we have taught women that it's okay (in fact, to be lauded) for being a raging piece of shit
• modern women delight in manipulation and game-playing
• modern women lack true soul and spirit (instead retaining an ersatz mannishness)
• modern womens' only value (even in their own minds) is their (generally well-used) vagina

Despite all the protestations, brainwashing, whinging, whining, bitching, and general cuntisms of Feminism - women are really only good for one thing these days:

• giving birth

The reasons (from the mans' perspective) are:

• a man can always use his hand for sex
• a woman is far too expensive to be around a lot
• a woman is far too much trouble to be around a lot

The fact that most women see the possession of a vagina as being a de-facto justification/pass for acting like an untrained animal - pissing and shitting on anything they feel like, rutting with anything they feel like - is a strong indictment of the people who raised them. So who raised them to be raging pieces of shit?

• their (absent) father
• their (useless) mother
• their (worthless) grandparents

The father's absence is easily explainable:

1. marriage "laws" which force him to check out emotionally and mentally, and often (50+%) physically remove him from his children
2. the father is emotionally and mentally incapable of being a good parent (whether he tries or not) due to a shit-awful upbringing

Likewise the mother's uselessness is easily explainable:

1. lifetime training which emphasizes being a selfish piece of shit
2. marriage "laws" which give her so much power in the marriage that she becomes a lazy piece of shit
3. the mother is emotionally and mentally incapable of being a good parent (whether she tries or not) due to a shit-awful upbringing

Finally, the grandparents worthlessness is also easily explainable:

• being useless pieces of selfish shit who raised both the father and mother above (the general uselessness and sins of the grandparents being passed down to their grandchildren - with more generations to go)

So, how does a sensible young man of these days deal with the above situation? He avoids it. He does his own thing and follows the fuck'n'chuck process. (Apps like Tinder facilitate this process for both sexes.) It leaves him generally less-drained than anything that has him in long-term contact with a woman would do, plus it leaves him a lot of time for his own pursuits and enjoyments.

Best of all, he's not subject to the arbitrary and random whimsies of some subnormal idiot child who can actually wreck his entire life in a fit of spite with three lying words: "He raped me!"

Crap Colored Glasses

Writer Anonymous stated in a comment on my last post:

I got my shit colored glasses after blowing $6k on a stripper/whore 19 years ago. So you got yours pretty cheap in comparison.

I was going to reply to him, then realized that he deserved better. He - and other readers - deserve a clearer explanation of my often-used closing statement of: "Crap Colored Glasses™, only $1k the pair and cheap at 10x the price". Plus the history behind it.

I believe that I have put up some of the history at various times, though probably not all of it. Or very scattered, all over the show. So understand straight up here: it did not cost me a simple $1k to get my crap-colored glasses. It did not cost $10k to get them. With wasted time and life and missed opportunity costs it was well over $500k, closer to $600k.

That's being extremely conservative. See: Is That Pussy Worth It? for a clearer idea.

See, in my youth I was basically playing around and all that stuff with regards to women. Probably reasonably textbook "Alpha" as it is defined in certain sections of the Manosphere. Eventually got it together enough to go into partnership with some guys and put together an IT company. We started making some serious dollars.

Then I decided that it was time to settle down and be a responsible fuckin' adult. I drank the Kool Aid™ - slugged it back pretty hard - went all the way into so-called "Beta" as it's put in certain sections of the Manosphere. Wife, house, lookin' at a family down the line, you get the shitty picture. It can hit you hard if you aren't paying attention. Or if you listen to society and decide that that's what you "should" do, to help keep fuckin' civilization going and all.

On the surface, my ex-cunt probably hit the jackpot so far as our feminized society was concerned and the billing and cooing of all the femicunts around. Which amongst women, that's all that matters.

Then she hit The Bloat™, played the "I'm not haaaappy" card, and *flush* everything down the toilet. The only reason that I had anything left was because I made it abundantly clear to her and to all the lawyers involved that I'd pursue a Scorched Earth Policy™ if they pushed hard enough.

Fuck the consequences to me, I'll survive better'n her.

So yeah, I have a house (too big for me) and part of a business still. Thank goodness that there were no children to get caught up in the meat-grinder, nor do we typically pay alimony in New Zealand. (It is possible, simply very uncommon - it's called "Spousal Support". A massive fuckin' crock of shit whatever the name.)

So there's the history-bit. Now to the explanation of Crap Colored Glasses™.

These days I spend about $20 a week being social. Work out the numbers: 20 x 50 = $1,000 a year. In prior times I spent a lot more, learning to dance and socializing and et-fucking-cetera. Now that's dropped down to $1k - lunch, the occasional beer, BBQ, simple shit like that. I spend way more each year doing self-improvement with weight-training at a gym with a personal trainer.

Occasionally you end up with a woman. It's been two so far this year. They don't last long: invariably they do something completely fuckin' stupid and shaft themselves. The average cunt these days has the brains and attention-span of a flea.

Alternatively, you could spend about $200 a week fucking a younger, tighter whore. With a going rate of: 200 x 50 = $10,000 a year for paid pussy. There's the "cheap at 10x the cost" bit, which is where it appears that Anonymous fell into things and earned his Crap Colored Glasses™. Good on you man. You got it cheap.

Because you can go the full half-million-dollar self-chosen ball-roast like I did. Decide that that pussy is worth it. Put your nuts in her purse. Lose a large amount of every damn thing you've ever built up over your entire life, plus what you probably would have done without her around. As per "Is That Pussy Worth It?" above.

I was lucky. I didn't lose everything. It could have happened, start over from zerch.

Was that pussy worth it? Worth the lost opportunities? Worth the wasted money that should have been invested properly? Worth the mind-fuck-games? Worth the passive-aggressive bullshit? Worth the arguing? Worth the snide remarks? Worth the snotty attitude from a cunt who basically didn't make $50k a year and spent more than that? Worth being around a crazy BPD/NPD cunt?

Fuck no.

Which is why this blog is here. "Exposing the black poison in the soul of the world." Pointing out all this fuckin' crazy shit that women do. Pointing out the crap that has been ladled into our heads to hide that crazy shit. Thinking random thoughts about all the crazy shit going on. Trying to help in some small way so that some men get those damn cautionary tales brought to their attention, so that they don't go around blind and unthinking in their lives.

Being sarcastic as fuck at times, tryin' to keep it real as fuck, twisting the viewpoint around to look at things from many weirdass angles. Even hers, trying to look out through the eyes of the shallow, inane, insane.

My tiny way of paying it back to the world of 3.5 billion men that I will never meet. Every post as shallow as the surface where you roll your eyes and gloss over it in a few seconds before moving on. Every post as deep as you can bring yourself to look down the fuckin' black hole of shit before you start shakin'.

A small voice tryin' to help you be free.

In a way, this - the so-called Manosphere - is some of the wisdom that we lost with the Boomer generation. Those fuckwits turned their back completely on the prior generation who had fought two hard wars, put together money, and were "successful" despite all that shit. Not that they were the absolute best in life - however they generally had it together reasonably well.

But, no. Turn on, tune in, drop out. "My olds were such squares maaaan." "Enslaved and working for the system maaaan." "Never trust anyone over 30 maaaan." Fuckin' hippies.

There is the surface world, the gynocentric, pussy-owns-everything, femicunt paradise. Yeah there's a few cracks in it - chasms for the older cunts. On the whole though, it's all fluffy: babies, elves, faeries, Harry Potter, unicorns that shit rainbows, limp-wristed adaptations of 50 Shades of Shit. It's all about her and how she feels.

Under the surface, in the real world, it all runs on blood, sweat and diesel. This is the part that's all about him and how he bleeds.

Some of mine got caught in the gears of slavery, though I managed to extract myself with relatively minimal pain. So I do my best to show others the gears, levers, pullies, camshafts, rollers, et-fucking-cetera. So they hopefully won't get caught in it - or can maybe extract themselves with less hassles.

Crap Colored Glasses™, only $1k the pair and cheap at 10x the cost. Good luck Anonymous. The world is yours - as much of it as you want - so long as you are careful to not become a slave caught in the gears and rollers.

Time to sip some Grand Marnier, now I'm done with talkin'.