You Will Move On

No, this is not a "BPS is moving on from the Manosphere" post.

It's an observation of over the last 4 years or so, plus spending a month or so reviewing the past 12-odd years of my life. Also a few observations from my formative years and all.

Surprisingly, it's also an observation about growth. I'm not sure if Captain Capitalism has put it into his Curse of the High IQ book - I will reread and see. It's easy to do when it's winter here in NZ, after 6pm everything is dark and the fire or heat pump is going.

(Yes, cold. Yes, wet. Thank you Tongan eruption. Weeks on end of rain. Good that I have both a fire and a heatpump, because I'll run out of seasoned wood soon. I need to stock up, double the amount that I had and let it season for a couple of years. Maybe I should triple the size of the firewood shed and triple the amount on hand, to be absolutely certain.)

At any rate, two observations. During your life:

1/ You will grow.

2/ Others will sit in one place.

This is not a condemnation of their choice - MGTOW, that's the path they've chosen. Go for it.

From the perspective of the Man who is growing, you will move on.

As you grow, you will move on to other and (in your personal opinion, per your personal path) more rewarding things in life.

Others will stay in their place.

They might be upset at you moving on. They might not care. From your perspective, it is not relevant. 

You have moved on.

In the end you are only a tiny little ripple in the river of humanity. Your moving on will not make any big changes to others. They are where they are, they are doing what they are doing, because that is the path they've chosen.

You have moved on.

Over my life, I have moved on from many things:

* My home town.

* My friends.

* My new town.

* My new friends.

* My new-new town.

* My new-new friends.

* Several communities (some in the real world, some in the internet - 5 in the past 12 years, 3-4 that I can remember in the years prior to that).

Some things you will stay in distant contact with. Family members. I have several extended whanau who are still where they are. I have moved on - though I stay in contact with them. I'm basically forced to, even though we have nothing much in common. They are still in their place.

I do stay in contact with at least one person from one of the prior communities. He's a good bloke, much nicer than I am. We still have a TGIF on Fridays - at least, when we're not working from home or in Covid lockdown. There will be a few people like that. That's good.

Growth demands moving on. Otherwise you become stuck, to sit in one place all your life.

Having moved on from a community about a month ago, I've been reflecting back on things. Moving on seems (for myself) to be a part of growth.

Growing my life (in this case: income) by a substantial amount in the past year, it has been evident to me that it was time to move on. That community was taking a lot of my personal energy and time. Personal energy and time that would be better put somewhere else, for my personal benefit.

I've been asking myself questions: Should I seek another community to become a part of?

Answer: Why bother?

I will grow and move on from it in a few years.

Especially the communities which are rife with nasty people. They're like lice or maggots, they appear everywhere. Remember: You don't have time for that crap. Places, echo-chambers of toxic crap will drag you down and hold you back.

The only thing that you have time for is your personal path. Period. Remember: You Are MGTOW. You are following your path.

Some people are good to stay in contact with. The rest of them in said community though, sad sacks of shit who are in one place. No time for their constant femicunt-inspired drama and horseshit.

In the end, like many things in life, it was time to make the decision. I chose to pull the trigger...

...and Elvis (hah so conceited on my part) has left the building. Silently. No drama. Like a ghost that was never there.

After a month - not even a ripple to remember me by. Good. They are not relevant to me. I am not relevant to them. They will continue, the community and its members going on as always, in their path as mine diverges away.

I have moved on. As will you.

Checking In

Black Poison Soul, checking in. Eyes, balls, brains - all here, all connected. Let us begin.

Many things have happened over the last six months. The big one: the Big C. For two members of my family. One survived. One died. We continue on.

Sometimes you run across people who have real soul. I ran across one. I have been helping him, in my small way. Not with marital/life problems - he don't need it. (At least, not so far as I know.) Helping him with a personal programming project of his. It has zip to do with the manosphere, so a nice break during an otherwise difficult time. He offered to repay me, I laughed. Some times, some things, you just gotta do what you gotta do, you know what I mean?

Looking back - eleven years. Definitely not to the freaking day, though I can't be arsed to look it up and all. Pretty sure it was this month though - February, my parasite removed. Kinda surprising.

What has changed?

Despite the difficulties of the last six months, not a lot has changed in developed attitude. Though there has been a lot of philosophical thought going on. Some planning done. Some things are more clear-cut. Some things are seen, in retrospect, as being damned-well worth it. Even though they hurt like hell at the time. Even though it's wading through shit and wondering why the hell you're doing it and all.

The learning experience wasn't easy. The experience itself though - far, far more worthwhile than gold. Being able to write about it too. Even if Google's shitbox reckons that I'm a far-right nutjob who would destabilize society et-fucking-cetera LMAO! Oh yeah, devoice BPS, who gives a fuck? This is more and better therapy than paying some high-charging asshole.

Looking around at the FUD - Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt - that is being spread by the media and politicians? Me destabilize society? Hah. 1984, V for Vendetta, in a nutshell. The Communist handbook of destabilizing a country, followed to a T. For the stupid serf parasites: enjoy your brainwashing. Your ancestors worked their guts out for you to be free. You weakly pissed it away. You are slaves now. Much deserved, enjoy sucking cock of the rich and powerful to get ahead.

For a little while.

I find it somewhat amusing. History is there, to be willfully ignored and destroy ourselves - an almost priceless joke. Sad, yet priceless in its' way. When you watch it happen...well, that's done and dusted, innit?

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I look back at what my ancestors did 2 generations ago. Only 2 generations. My grandfather and family went from England to Aussie, six months on a sailing ship, wife and two newborn kiddies. He was one of those poor suckers lied to and stolen from: "Yup, there's good land there - pay us X pounds and here's passage on a ship, there'll be good farmland when you arrive for you and your family to own and work on and grow stuff for yourselves." Poor fuckers. On arrival, welcome to the land of sand and snakes and spiders the size of your hand. Farmland? What fucking farmland?

Fuck me. Rude shock? Fuckin' aye!

He was one of those lucky bastards who managed to hop the family aboard a ship to New Zealand. Swamp and bush and rugged hills and bluffs up the Far North of the North Island. Breaking in the native bush, punga's and supplejack and kauri and manuka and swampy peat, turning it into good farmland. Slowly nursing a couple of cows into a small herd to sell the milk and some meat. Gut-wrenching work through WWI and WWII supporting the troops, bringing up 7 kids, and he died of a brain tumor.

More Big-C. Grandfather and Grandmother both. A hard pair, tough, yet it'll take them from ya. It kinda runs in the family - other members have died from it too, in various forms. Probably I'll die from it. Seem clean at the moment, you never know though: men have a higher chance of prostate cancer than wimminz do of breast cancer. Get it checked occasionally, y'know?

So. A hard pair. Not gutless in the slightest. If they'd stayed in England they'd have been serfs for the rest of eternity, which is what's happening to the remaining English anyways. Lords and Masters, and serfs and slaves. Bringing in the shitty parasites from other countries to screw up the serf/slaves even more, which is what joining the EU did to them as a whole. Brexit? Get a wriggle on hahahahah!

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So what can we, shall we say, retain for ourselves? Since most of society and das guberment seems hell-bent on taking it all from us. Some thought and philosophical bits of advice as it were...

Don't get too attached. To people, to money, to possessions. Of them all, people are the most important - yet life will take them away from you. I'm not saying be buddy-buddy with all and sundry, and fuck me I hate the people like that. Probably because I'm more the reclusive/antisocial type as it were. You'll find the occasional one with real soul though, and I'm glad to have one real close one in my brother and have run across a few others. Priceless people.

So, how to survive? There's two paths:

1/ Be a slave, own nothing, be a parasite.

2/ Get ahead, don't expect help from anyone (except maybe family) and don't let anyone else know.

That's right. Don't let anyone else know.

Practically of course, that's impossible. Someone is going to know. Lawyers and bankers, those fuckers and complete assholes. Of course, you pay them to keep their gobholes shut. Which if you're getting ahead, you can do.

Gubnermint, well you're fucked there. They will know everything. Unless you can go complete bush, go troppo as they say in Aussie (aka a little bit fucking mad), you're gonna be on das guberment's radar. You can't help that. Just keep your nose clean and your head down.

Wimminz...wimminz, wimminz, wimminz...don't own anything. Always be renting. And like how the fuck do you do that, if/when you're trying to get ahead? You get a home in a Trust, perhaps managed by someone you trust (hahah) and you act like all the rest of your liddle weeble fellow-slaves. Don't bother talking to 'em though - be the antisocial type.

So far as anyone knows you're just like everyone else, living hand-to-mouth and paying the fucking rent to some rich asshole. The difference is that you are quietly becoming the rich asshole. Call the trust something very innocuous ("IMF Trust" - "In Mala Fide Trust" - In Bad Faith Trust heh) and you pay rent into it every freaking week year-in, year-out. Especially after the house is paid off, you keep paying that fucking rent while the Trust goes and quietly gets another house. And another. Ain't nothing and nobody to say different.

If you *do* decide to retire early (after say 3-4 properties in the Trust) - nobody needs to know that either. You're just changing jobs. (To stay-at-home fisherman, and handyman, or antiques dealer, or whatever - you know it makes sense.) This is actually what my brother's in the process of doing, though he's stupid enough to tell people he's retiring. I'm thinking of suggesting that he "find other work". His current employers doesn't need to know that his new work is as a freaking landlord.

Maybe he mows lawns and does handyman work for a living, aka maintains his property. Hell, maybe he can actually do that on the grey market, under the radar, for the other old dears.

Best is that you're still under the radar to teh wimminz and other assorted maggots and parasites of what we will loosely call society.

I don't say avoid teh wimminz. You got needs, yah? If that's your way, that's your way - be careful, make sure not to get the wrong one preggers and all. Never lettum know you're rich as Croesus - never let that Camel get it's head in the damn tent. Little head should never override the big one, you know it. If you do accidentally latch up with one, you're still paying rent, only it's for fucking eternity now that you have wife and kidlets to provide for as well.

If by God you manage to actually find a halfway decent wimminz (few and far between, maybe 5% - 'cause it's statistically impossible for them all to be complete and utter shit and without redemption et-fucking-cetera) you're always, eternally, paying rent. Unless you happen to know without a doubt that she's got a boatload of stuff as well. In that case, your choice. Little head, big head, remember! Just take it fuckin' slow and all.

It would be a disaster if she turned out not to be as great as you thought. Your Trust will be broken up "for the good of the childreeeeen". Which if the bitch had never learned about it, the childreeeeen would have been well-taken-cared-of until well after your death. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren as well. Lemme draw you a picture:

* Every house that the Trust buys and rents out for more cashola etc will be theirs eventually. You're just a friggin' handyman hired to keep the things in decent shape.

* You can "help" organize the kids into a rental home for a long while, which if they fuck the place up aka cause damage to it you can by God ream their asses and "fix it up before the damn landlord finds out and evicts you stupid fuckers". And charge them for it out the wazoo as an extra lesson. 'Cause in this day and age, renting forever is about all that most people will be able to do. Especially if they have the massive student loans that is the whacked-out peculiar way of doing things these times.

* On your death, it'll be a nice little caring touch - showing you *actually* fucking care deeply for them and always did - when they learn that the house they've been renting has been their fucking inheritance all along. As well as a few more houses owned by the Trust, and a tidy fucking sum in cash and other assets, etc etc etc. None of it where anyone can get their sticky damn fingers into and spend like a sailor on shore leave.

* By that point nobody but nobody can break it all up "for the good of the childreeeeen" - 'cause the grandchildren have zero, zip, nada say in the whole bizness. Teh wimminz, if she survives you, will be cared for and cannot split anything out to fritter it away on dresses/handbags/shoes and running around "finding herself" aka chasing foreign cock. By that point she shouldn't fucking want to anyway, though some'a them are still bloody deluded and think they're God's gift to young men and young cock 'cause 50 is the new 30 for fucks sake.

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So there's a basic how-to. My brother and I are both following it, in our different ways: his kids and grandkids will be provided for anyways by him, and my stuff will go to them as well 'cause goodness knows I have no kids to be weaponized against me. Which sucks in a way. I guess that I'll have to spoil the fuck outta my grand-nieces and -nephews instead.

"Grand-Uncle! Stop spoiling the kids!" And I'll laugh my ass off 'cause I can. 'Cause in the end, family (so long as they're raised right) and people with soul are the only thing really worthwhile.

I ain't saying it's the only way to do things. At least you (I) will be well-cared-for in your (my) old age. And a helluva surprise for the extended whanau (family) as it were.

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There it is - BPS, still hanging in there. We Men survive and recover, generally no matter how grim things get. Being thoughtful, not pissing it all away, life is still very very good. And always getting better.

Almost in my position of Fuck You. Though I refuse to pull a dramatic Fuck You with work. That's juvenile, stupid stuff. Currently looking around in the crazy New Zealand housing market - frothy as hell here, especially in the last 3 months - for my next house to buy. So much leaky-home dogshit to wade through, ugh.

Still doing it though. 'Cause I'm damned if I'm going to be dependent upon someone else when I get older. I'm gonna enjoy my final years on my terms, a little travel, a little photography, a little Grand Marnier, and Fuck You to anyone who wants to deprive me of that.

Glasses high, brothers. To your health and life! - BPS

Forget Why

Why is irrelevant.

Do you get that? Completely irrelevant.

There is no rational why.

I remember back to the ending "conversation" with my last girl, must be close to three years ago now. ("Conversation" hah! She turned up at an awkward time of night, barged in, and was basically being a self-centered bitch on the whole instead of leaving me alone when I made it clear that I wasn't interested any more.)

I got her the hell out of my home in the guise of "dropping her off to her hotel". She asks if she'll be seeing me again.

Me: No.

Her: Why not?

Me: I don't want to.

Her: Finish that sentence! (A quite loud'n'clear self-centered "I am entitled to know why!")

Me: I don't want to see you again. (Yeah, it's a total lack of interest, now stay the fuck away.)

Her face scrunches up and she heads away to her room, probably because I shattered her heart'n'soul. I leave, not caring at all.

Yes, teh wimminz would call me a fuckin' psychopath. Given what she did to me, there was no interest left on my side. That is my "why" for treating her like that.

Yet still. There is no "why" in life.

There is only: I want to X/I don't want to X.

I want to see you again. I don't want to see you again.

I want to fuck you again. I don't want to fuck you again.

I want to read that book again. I don't want to read that book again.

I want to see that movie again. I don't want to see that movie again.

I want to continue hanging around those people. I don't want to continue hanging around those people.

Why? I can come up with a million "reasons" for "why". They're not relevant. Not really. The "why" is just the brain attempting to provide a rational reason of some type. A rational reason for an internal emotional reaction.

Essentially it boils down to: I want to / I don't want to. The rest of the palaver is just social self-justification and face-saving.

In the guts of it, the want-to/don't-want-to is an emotional inner reaction, not something intellectually reasoned out. Not in the guts of it.

She wants to fuck you. She doesn't want to fuck you.

She wants to fuck you again. She doesn't want to fuck you again.

Why do you care why? Why do you want to know why?

Forget why. There is no why. There is only a gut-basic reaction, a feeling, of: "I want to / I don't want to".

She wants a boyfriend. She doesn't want a boyfriend.

She wants to be married. She doesn't want to be married.

She wants to be married to you. She doesn't want to be married to you.

She wants to part her legs for you. She doesn't want to part her legs for you.

Even when the basic "I don't want to" shatters her/your soul. And you, or her, start going down down down the rabbit-hole of emotional turmoil and horseshit.

>>>> Why?!?!?!!!! <<<< Add insistent whiny brat emotional crap as appropriate. You and/or her both.

There is no why. Down at the core, it just fucking is.

Make me want to, rather than not want to. Teh wimminz, leftists, femiwhores, the unwashed mass of generally shitty people on the whole, will never truly grasp that. Make me want to, rather than not want to.

Being a complete cunt is not making me want to X. It makes me not want to X. Fill in the X with whatever is appropriate.

Summertime in New Zealand. I'm starting to do more outdoor stuff.

Why? I want to. There may be many "reasons". They all boil down to: I want to.

Deep down in the guts of it. It's an emotional thing. There's no real reason as such for it. That's why.

Bleed in Private

No, the title of this post is not referencing me or my life - I have simply been very, very busy in my personal life for the last couple of months. It suddenly occurred to me tonight that I've been bloody remiss about saying hello to people and keeping in touch in general.

This post is about the "sensitive new age guy", aka doormat, aka soyboy, et-fucking-cetera. (™) Specifically, their bloody propensity to go and bleed emotionally in public for the delectation of all and sundry.

Of course, wimminz love it when a man goes and bleeds in public. He lets his hair down, snivels and cries, etc etc ad goddamn nauseum.

Wimminz love this behavior because she immediately knows: I can push this pussy around.

Wrap him around her finger, make him dance for her, a source of endless amusement and entertainment. Pointing him out to her friends: "Hey, lookit this pussy! Watch me push him around! Ain't that cuuuuute?!"

Enough to make your balls shrink with some fucked-up sense of sympathy.

Men, we need to harden up. There's no need to bleed in public for all and sundry.

Your brother or a buddy gets killed in a car crash, or dies from cancer, or something. A friend asks us out, we might say: "Nah, a brother/mate of mine died. Gonna have a drink in private to remember him by." (Or maybe: "Me and some of his mates are getting together to drink and remember him by." Or whatever you-all decide to do. He loves hunting? Go hunting to remember him by.)

To other Men, it's immediately understood.

Nothing more is needed.

In such situations, we just need a little time to deal with things.

To teh wimminz: "Oh! Oh! That's terrible! Do you need to talk about it?" Bleat, bleat, fuckin' bleat, in the most senseless and demeaning manner possible.

I sometimes wonder if they deliberately cheapen such situations (because y'know, men are insensitive brutes and akerchully have no feelings and the fuckin' like) or they're just completely clueless (same non-reasoning applies).

(Maybe a good one will understand like another Man does. I've not met this personally, though I will admit to the possibility of 1% actually being capable of some sensitivity and sense and decorum and the like. If you know of one like that, the chances are they're family or a friend of the buddy and going through all this also.)

This is why it's always good to do your bleeding in private. Other Men (especially the ones who matter) will respect you for it. The few Men who you might open up to about such things, will understand the deep gift that they have been given. (They may not have anything to actually say, 'cause it's an awkward thing, yet they will understand.)

Best of all, you don't get your deepest and most painful situations shat on thoughtlessly and meaninglessly by the attack-bunnies and retards which abound in this decaying excuse of a civilization.

My brothers, I raise to you all a glass of Grand Marnier. May your lives be blessed with strong Men who you are proud to walk alongside. Maybe, even occasionally, bleed beside.

Wounded By Life

Over here in the States I heard about a military man - the father of a friend's female friend. A Marine, apparently quite hardcore.

He's had a stroke of some type, which has impaired his mobility severely. He's pissed about it - really pissed - and taking out his frustrations on the family around him. Mostly swearing a lot, not actually physically abusive. "Mother-fuckng..." and etc. Quite hard on them.

Getting to be an older bastard myself, with my body starting to pack it in a touch, I can understand and sympathise with him.

It sucks when you can't do what you used to be able to do. When you were improving in life. Especially must suck when it happened so suddenly. Must be hella frustrating for a former Marine type.

Wish that I could say to him:

"Sir, you have been sorely wounded by life. I can understand. Yet you still have a mission to complete, and making it harder for others in that mission is counterproductive. Both for you and them."

That's about all I could say. Hell, it probably wouldn't help him and his, either.

Is there a point to this post? I'm not certain. Maybe something along the lines of: Try not to make the shit that happens to you worse by your actions.

What would I know though? I've not been through anything like that.

Take care all. - BPS

Victory and Defeat

Damn. So here I am over in America - land in Los Angelos, intending to catch up with a man in Florida, and cousins up in Canada, and see as much as possible while I'm driving on the way and back. I'm driving an RV.

A week has gone past. I'm in Big Bend country, down Alpine Texas. Holy fuck, I thought that I'd be in Florida by now. I forgot how damn huge you guys are. Haven't been over here at least ten years, completely forgot. (Strong winds and routing around a fire here in Texas didn't help. Friday was ten hours driving, a few breaks. Sheeeiiit, I'm feeling like a dumbass. And exhausted.)

So I call the Florida man up, I can't just not show. Completely not fucking cool to do that to someone. "Hello, is that XXX?" "Who is this?" "It's Black Poison Soul."

We spent a few minutes jawing and I let him go back to his evening with family and all. Got to hear each other's voice, I made the effort. It's lame to say, really wanted to get there. I was just dumb. Will most probably yack with him again in the next two-three weeks.

Then called up my cousin in Canada - voicemail - damn, left a lame-ass message.

Feel like a fuckin dipshit.

Next time I'll just fly to where I wanna check out, hire a car, go see the local history and scenery and hike and stuff. You could probably spend a month in each state - I hope you Americans really take advantage of it. You have so much to go look at and do.

I'm gonna have to fly to Florida next year sometime. Do it the smart way. This time, defeated by reality.

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So a quick check back with family in NZ, and friends on FaceCrap. My mate who married the hairdresser has changed all his man-shit profile stuff to wedding photos.

Sad. You once had large, plentiful balls, man. Now you've pussified yourself, and the look on her face - that you obviously can't see - is so fuckin smug with victory.

It's like my balls also winced in sympathy with him.

You know when you see another man kicked in the nuts? Your balls just clench in sympathy?

That feeling.

Stick a fork in him. He's done.

I would have a glass of Grand Marnier in memory...like, in remembrance for a dead mate...only that stuff is back in New Zealand. I'll have to do it when I get back.

Peace...driving. (Tomorrow.)

Mourning The Old Ways

Didact has a great post about being born in the wrong century:

Men wouldn't just work for a big company because it provided stable employment and a guaranteed pension upon retirement. Many of them worked for such companies because they genuinely loved the company and its culture.

In my case, I still work at my "current place of work" after effectively 20 years for a slightly different reason - because I helped build up the culture in that place over that 20 year time-period. Though management is definitely doing their damnedest to tear it down at the moment.

When it goes, I will probably go also. At the least, it will leave me with less motivation to do real work for them. (Though my efficiency has already dropped tremendously.)

The comments from Tom Kratman are great too:

Oh, and it appears that the actual rule, for sex, for most of mankind for most of history - at least in cultures that placed a high value on certain things - was, "We know you're human and you're going nuts with the urge to rut. Once you are properly engaged / betrothed we will avert our eyes to what you do. However, if she comes up pregnant you had best be prepared to move the wedding date up to the week after the rabbit died. Oh, and if you try to back out we'll kill you or, bare minimum, shotgun you to the altar."

I was bought up the old way re marriage and sex. Having all those attitudes stripped away from me by age 18 should never have happened - unfortunately, that's the way things went. (Even my own mother stepped out in her youth - which is why I have an older half-sister, 'cause mommy dearest got pregnant by the milkman. How cliche.)

Sadly, it is our modern advantages - of prevalent food, shelter, and protection - which have caused a degeneration of the old ways. (The Roman dole of grain - free food - and we wonder why Rome declined and fell. Bread and circuses, beer and games, food and entertainment.)

Because the consequences are not so dire these days. She's not going to get kicked out by her family and have to fend for herself. Even if she did, the government is more than happy to pay her. Just as a simple bribe for her vote.

For the children, yeah...

Minimal

This blog isn't (or hasn't really been) about minimalism and the like. Like my post on not being one dimensional - we are all very different from the shitty stereotypes that are thrown out there. I am not really a minimalist.

However, MGTOW very often go generally minimal. Like I've said many times: I have more spare cash now that I'm single, than I had with a wife who also brought in over $50k a year. That is still true, even after closing the biz down and accepting a lower income. It's less mental stress on the whole, with the added benefit of not giving my crazy ex any of the ongoing cash from the biz.

This is for those who decide they don't really want to do the whole go ghost, reduce taxes, starve the beast stuff. Those who actually have decent jobs. Those who know that they can and are willing to work to become financially independent and retire early. Those who are not sure where to get started doing anything along those lines.

Try looking at /r/leanfire (lean living, financial independence/retiring early). Here is a good place to start for the newer MGTOW. I also suggest Bachelor Pad Economics by Aaron Clary (no that's not my affiliate code, that's the link from his blog - I make zero money from this blog, have no need of it).

Like anything, you have to do the work. We're MGTOW though. No problems with that. We're better at keeping the mouth shut and shoveling the fuckin' gravel. Especially keeping the mouth shut about how your fuckin' financial independence/early retirement plans are generally going. (Fuck bitchez. Get money. Especially don't let the bitchez know you haz money.)

Note: Don't spout any MGTOW beliefs there. Keep a sock in it. Compartmentalize. That's none of their business and will likely alienate the married and simp types. You're going there for the inspiration and ideas, not to proselytize to all and sundry. We're all men, we have the ability to keep it zipped when needed. Slow, subtle, is key.

For those interested, my FIRE number is $600k and I'm at $350k of that right now. I have a fairly consistent 75% SR these days (savings rate, ie 75% of my income goes towards savings for retirement - some of that's into stocks, some into gold and silver, and some into the home (which will be sold when I retire and get a campervan)).

To me that's a fuckin' great position to be in, given that I started with maybe $50k some 6 years ago. Another 6 years and I can retire. Any income after that is going to be pure gravy. Part-time gigs welcome, and that might include photography as well as IT/consulting crapola.

Just because our society is going down the shitter, doesn't mean we have to spend our declining years surviving on a steady diet of cardboard and government cheese. We still enjoy ourselves, in the way we desire.

However you desire.

Thank you for finding this for me again, Andy.

(Note that it's titled "Toyota GT86 - Banned Antifeminist Ad". It's not antifeminist. It's pro-male life, living, and enjoyment - and a little too much raw reality for teh wimminz and their pussy male simps to handle.)

No Quiet

As an extreme introvert, something that a man over /r/MGTOW states resonates very much with me:

The Present Narrative:
Chase chase chase, compete compete compete.
Put down that game and stop watching porn, learn PUA, learn how to become a master at reading women, wife up that former party chick.
Oh what's that, not having success? Suck it up and quit being a beta male, the world owes you nothing. Try again. So what if you had a tiring work week? Go out and chase that chick otherwise you're a faggot. And put a ring on it. Buy an expensive car and a nice house along with other frivolous bullshit to signal that you have status, it's important.
Huh, she's divorcing you? Your fault, she wants an alpha male and you're still too much like a boy. Quit complaining that you're losing half your shit and need to pay alimony, it's all part of the game. You do like the game, don't you? Because if you don't, well you're just a sore loser.

No peace? No interest. Fuck all of it.

This one strikes the gold dead-center.

I've heard things from married men, also - quite a few of them. Their wives don't seem to like it when they sit around doing nothing. Sucks when you're sick and physically incapable of doing anything.

I could throw out talk about slavemasters wanting their slaves to work until they drop, and why women hate mens hobbies unless they make teh wimminz lives better, and why men who go through debilitating sickness (ie cancer) suddenly find themselves divorced, etc.

It's all been said before. There's no need to repeat.

A long time ago, I stated that personal time and space is gold for men.

Remember that the whole PUA-sphere is also interested in whacking out your personal time and space (so that they can sell you their latest snake-oil for $$$, never forget that).

Business also. A lot of what I deal with is dumb bullshit that basically takes up 80% of my mental energy and workspace and time. Cut out the horseshit, work for 4 hours a day, and my productivity would be massively higher. I'd also have more mental time to relax and chill out, enjoy things that are good for me and my health, do stuff around my home, and similar.

Of course, if I'm tired I don't get the chance to think things through clearly and tell the boss that he's a fucking idiot. I mean, just imagine saying this to the boss: "Let me get this straight. I do Oracle DBA work, SQL Server DBA work, I've done Cisco networking, server work, programming, all of which you pay me six figures for - and you want me to adjust some fucking PA's Outlook because you're too cheap to hire a $30k a year entry-level computer person. You're pulling my fucking leg, right?"

Retards.

Part of whacking out your personal time and space is so that you don't have the mental energy and space to think clearly. Which is why women do the same to their boyfriends and hubbies in the off-hours.

'Cause if you were thinking clearly: once she stopped putting it out (aka enslaving you to her vagina) and pulled the pin on the fat-grenade, then you'd look at her and either smack her up a bit for the bullshit or walk the fuck out.

Prepping

Not the usual post, and not for what could be called the "usual reasons" (aka expecting civilization to crash'n'burn). I'm not saying to have a SHTF bunker hidden in the hills, with solar panels and ten different firearms and enough ammunition to kill an army.

I live in New Zealand. Because of that it's always good to have emergency stuff handy. Whether for potential tsunami, eruptions dropping ash, heavy storms wrecking powerlines (or flooding places like Edgecumbe and causing slips through Coromandel and eastern/central New Zealand), and earthquakes (Christchurch multiple times, Wellington, and Kaikoura - all recently).

With all this, basically it's a good idea to have something to throw in the boot of the car and GTFO when you need to. It's also good to test it, taking a week-long camping-style trip (which also uses up old stuff which you can then replace).

Food: tinned beans, spaghetti, stew, fruit, tinned fish and meat, tinned desserts. Nuts and raisins. Heat'n'eat stuff like what comes from the Kaweka Food Co - meals for one, you just need boiling water. Milk powder and tea, oxo cubes, cup-of-soup. A couple of 10-liter containers of water. Enough of all that for a week (for one person) costs less than a hundred dollars.

Cooking gear: butane camp stove and a couple of gas cannisters, camp cooking gear (if you like tramping and hiking - otherwise just an ordinary pot), plastic knife/fork/spoon/chopsticks. Plate/bowl/cup are optional, generally just eat and drink out of the pot.

Other gear: torch, lantern, batteries, medikit, basic medicines (asprin), wet wipes, paper towels, toilet paper, some form of digging tool, a medium bottle of hand sanitizer, water purification tablets, waterproof matches, a couple of decent knives, sharpening steel. I also include a lifestraw.

Optional stuff: fishhooks and line if you want to do the "living off the land" thing. Take some basic nylon line in the boot, a proper rope can be handy. A sharp hatchet if you want to make campfires (and learn how to use a Dakota Fire Hole and feather sticks, firesteel, etc). A proper axe or chainsaw is a good idea if you're likely to run across downed trees where you're going.

The food will all fit into a single plastic bin. The rest of the gear will fit into another. (Okay, maybe not the axe/chainsaw.) One person can pick a container up and put them into the boot, 1 minute tops.

Other bits'n'pieces to throw in: a few plastic supermarket bags, 4 sets of undies and t-shirts and singlets, a warm jacket, a good down blanket or a sleeping bag. Don't waste time with a tent, you can sleep in the car with the windows cracked open - I've done it many times (make sure you have a rain guard). A couple of books. Time to get together from scratch, 5 minutes tops.

Pets: depends what you have. Take food and extra water. If there's a bona-fide tsunami coming, you're in the washout zone, and your damn cat won't play ball...

Optional stuff, for whatever reasons: 12v compressor and an air-mattress, 12v appliances (you can idle your car for an hour without chewing up much gasoline), a jetboil (for 2 minutes to get boiling water - I'm seriously thinking of one), whatever the hell else catches your fancy. It's a good idea to keep 10-20 liters of gasoline in the basement in case you need to top up before you go, take the remainder with you (make sure the container is a good one).

For those who are thinking of an RV or camping trailer to live (or retire) in, consider an ordinary car and converting a cargo trailer:

Have a bit of fun, plus some weekend trips for practice and to see something new (for a week-long roadtrip, think about overnighting at a campground every 3-4 days just for the chance to wash clothing and shower).

Live your life.

Pink Tit Day Wandered Past Again

The usual stuff. Support teh wimminz at every opportunity.

Wear pink for a day.

Pink baking for morning tea.

Pink walk.

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

Looked like the Godfather.

"Why aren't you wearing pink?"

"I'm rebellious."

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

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

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

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

"Are you married?"

"Naw, divorced."

"Have kids?"

"Naw."

"Think you'll ever have kids?"

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

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

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

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

Why I Think Trump Will Win

Yeah yeah, this ain't a political blog.

Yeah yeah, it's all the elites dribbling and frothing for the entertainment of the masses and to get their noses in the trough.

So why the fuck do I care if Trump wins?

Because from what I can see (here in New Zealand) he's a potential breath of sanity.

That's it. The one potential breath of sanity I've seen in a very long time.

I look at the insanity of women, I look at the insanity of our society. Hell, it's my self-chosen "mission" to expose the poisonous insanity in the soul of the world. "Exposing the black poison in the soul of the world." Fuckin' pretentious of me.

I actually think he has a chance.

The reason which makes me think this is reading some highbrow retards whinging that he sounds like a dockworker. Dude's a multi-millionaire, he's giving that witch Hillary a dry corn-holing with her own broomstick on the regular, and they're griping about how he sounds like a dockworker.

Fuckin' retards.

He sounds like a dockworker because he's appealing to the dockworkers and other common people.

See, the man's a businessman. You don't become a successful businessman by spouting feelgood crap and surrounding yourself with ass-lickers and yes-men. Cronyism doesn't do a whole lot of shit in his world.

What does do a whole lot of shit is those who tie steel and lay concrete. Who build the foundations for bridges and skyscrapers and shit like that. Fuckers who can do something, and who are being squeezed out of life.

The incessant talk of academia, the incessant dribbling of theories, doesn't mean shit when the rubber meets the road. What matters is building something that stands up and provides a service - something of real lasting worth, something that makes money.

Government and jawing doesn't make money. You can talk endlessly at the broken fuckin' air conditioner, that won't fix the fucker when it's 100-degrees out and climbing.

Trump is appealing to the middle-Americans, those who maintain and build this civilization. His message is: "It's time to build our civilization again." The broad implication is that nobody else in government is doing it. They'd rather talk and get their hog-nose into the fuckin' trough of public funds. Into your and my pockets. Into your and my lives.

So he's a breath of sanity in a kaleidoscope of fluffy illusions. He's kicking the funhouse mirrors of the asylum down in an effort to get the forced inmates out into the real world again. Of course those in charge of the asylum don't like him. He's showing that they're unnecessary. In fact, downright incompetent - if not actively dangerous.

Why do I give a shit about the world going to sanity?

I always have. I'd rather it didn't burn down, if there's a real viable alternative. If the sane can actually swap places with the insane Leftist babbling idiots.

You can't actually *do* anything with these Leftist idiots. You can't trust them. You can't make a deal with them. They lie and break their word at every opportunity. Going into business with them would be stupid, getting married to one would be lunacy of the highest order.

Then they have the chutzpah to blame *you* for the situation. It's *your* fault that they lie and cheat and steal from you. (Which it is, looked at in a certain bleak light - why the *fuck* are we trusting these cunts as far as we can spit a mouthful of fish-hooks? We've never really grasped just how fucked in the head they are - because the sane simply cannot comprehend the insane. Thus, the insane can get away with a shitload more than you'd think would be possible.)

I'd actually like to see the world begin to strive for excellence once more. Like the moon shots, before the Space Shuttle made space all so dreary and same-same. Reach out and *take* what's rightfully yours. All of fucking reality.

Or sit in the corner and drool, the nurses coming around occasionally to wipe your fuckin' chin and change your fuckin' depends.

I'd like the human race to dream once more. I mean really dream, of something epic - not of something dull and grey and bland like fifty shades of limp-wristed BDSM shit.

So I'm thinking that Trump is the last gasp attempt of real humanity to steer itself onto a path of some kind of worth...

...not end with a whimper.

If the latter occurs, I will pour the gasoline on the world myself and set that fucking cunt alight. Then watch it burn with enjoyment, hoisting a small glass of Grand Marnier in a toast, while still hoping that something better will grow from whatever remains of the pyre.

This is why I love my brother

Me: You in town tonight?

Him: Yes, at X's.

Me: Please spin past my place tonight and in the morning to feed my cats.

Him: Ok.

Me: Thanks.

Imagine THAT if the other side was a woman.

What Is Good In Life?

Safe Spaces For Modern Pussies, Crybullies, and Trust

Trigger warning! The psychotic screams of Trigglypuff...as always it is worth watching Terrence Popp and Blake rip apart the psyche of the modern pussies:

I like their concept of crybullies. "I shall cry until mama spanks you for upsetting me - WAH!!" Truthful and absolutely fucking priceless.

Not just in college - looking at it, it appears to be leftists and minorities and teh wimminz general modus operandi as well. Go in front of the Judge and have a cry, until he spanks Teh Eevil Manz for upsetting teh poor widdle snowfwake me. Pathetic. Fucking pathetic.

All these fucking modern pussies crying away LOL. You could call 'em "Generation Crybaby" and be 1000% correct. Plus still barely scratching the surface of their hypocritical bullshit.

My comment on Terrence and Blake's video:

Generation Snowflake. Or as I call them: Generation Pussy.

Fights at school. Win a few, inconclusive a few, lost a few. All part of growing up - even as a nerd like I was. (Karate and Kung Fu and bowhunting and bodybuilding at age 13. Never thought about it until now. I was one weird-ass nerd.)

We men need our safe spaces. Thankfully, it's called "my home" - and I let very few in!

I was lucky enough not to get too damaged - and I guess smart enough to stay out of the real damage-zone as much as possible. Three-on-one is stupid, stay outta that mincer (fuck the movies bullshit). One-on-one, crush 'em if you can.

That said, safe spaces. We men need them.

Your home. That's the most overt of your safe spaces.

Your privacy. SJW's and lefties and pissed-off wimminz and the like love to violate that. (However, when you violate their safe spaces...whoooooo whatta shitstorm! Generation Crybaby kicks in with a resounding: "WAAHH!!")

Your mind. Your heart. Your soul. Your relationship. Your trust. (Sounds odd, doesn't it. Your trust as one of your safe spaces. Think about it for a while.)

Allow nobody inside ANY of these that you don't trust. And be very thoughtful about who you trust and how much and why and the circumstances around it. Your trust is your core place of safety.

Many a Man has been destroyed by trusting the wrong person or people. History is filled with examples.

Become invisible. Even when you're highly visible, it can be done - slowly, step by step, stealthily. The degree is your choice. People may not even realize once the process is complete. You can still appear visible - just another worker-drone - yet actually be invisible. Be one of the 80% of people that go unnoticed through life. Invisibility, isolation, is privacy, another safe space. Some people state that there is no isolation in the world today. It's quite possible, with some care and effort.

I've walked away from my last girlfriend. There was a recent time when extreme overwork was very detrimental to my energy levels (aka I ended up shattered and chronically tired for a while). Predator-like, she sensed an opportune moment and pushed way past the limits - in my weakened state I caved in. When I recuperated a bit, I realized what had happened, I walked away. YAWALT.

Let her scream and cry. Everything from her is manipulative & selfish. Hidden by the chameleon, until an opportune moment. Thinking that I would stay true to something said while shattered, out of a misplaced sense of "man up, I agreed, I will follow through" instilled into me from birth onwards by every manipulative female from my mama and the rest in this female-centric society that we live in.

Most cases: yes. However. Break the trust that you will act decently towards me at all times, break the boundaries of that safe space, break the relationship and everything that goes with it. No. You break the trust, I walk away. Fuck your expectations, tears, and other manipulative bullshit.

(Tinder is easy and minimum-effort. Within a week, balls-deep into a cute 24yo blue-eyed blonde with natural DD tits. She has multiple orgasms. I'm already pleasantly sub-rosa laughing in her face, because she's already tried some low-level manipulative shit on me. Arms-length occasional fuck-buddy is it, gal. Three other girls in the 30+ age bracket have already flaked.

I hesitate to put this out here. It sounds self-aggrandizing and arrogant as fuck. I'm no fucking Adonis. I'm 50 years old, very short beard that I trim to almost nothing each week, still with a full head of hair that's going mouse-grey. I fully admit that I did it because at the time I needed the self-esteem boost and the energy and confidence that comes with that. Probably just a fluke - so what the fuck, enjoy it while it lasts. I'm certainly no PUA, fucking HB9+'s every week. With extreme beauty and youth comes extreme entitlement and flakiness, a lot of bullshit that I have neither energy nor patience for.

Even from prostitutes and whores, going by past experience - haven't bothered with those any time recently. They can be the most nasty and uppity bunch of cunts you will ever fuck, bar none. The *only* thing that keeps them in line is this: "Always be pleasant and compliant and sweet, and I will hire you again. Be a cunt once, your cunt is toast." If the experience is bad, even if you ain't finished: pull out, give her her payment, walk her to the door, shut it firmly behind her. She's gone for good.

It can be an education, the things you learn when overhearing someone dispatch a prostitute from a whorehouse. The whore with a heart of gold doesn't exist. She's just as money-grubbing and filthy-tempered as the rest, she simply hides the worst parts better because being shitty to clients is bad for business. And the honesty of up-front payment is at least refreshing.)

Hold your safe spaces in an iron grip. Always be fully-aware that some of them you may be forced to let go of (your home is not worth your life or sanity). Be prepared to let go of many things if needed.

Stepping out for a bit again - still have to recuperate, a holiday would not go amiss. Enjoy your lives, my brothers.

Crass Women

Okay, it's being blurted around everywhere - Amber the Twat filed for divorce (with domestic violence accusations as well) from Johnny the Depp.

Terrence Popp and Blake, you guys have a new Pimptard / Wifestitute to put together. It'll take a few months for it all to become final, but hey. Given that he's rumored to be worth something like $300 million and she's worth something like $10 million. Nice payout for her.

Now of course, the *really* crass bit: she filed for divorce 3 days after Johnny's mother died. Absolutely perfect example of a massive money-grubbing ho.

No, I'm not mad about this - actually I'm amused, with rather bleak and black humor. Men see this shit and they're not warned?

So to be crass in my turn, in the male way:

Look on the bright side, Johnny. You might lose half your shit - probably more - but your ex-ho has revealed to the world what an absolutely massive cunt she is.

Brought to you by Crap Colored Glasses™ and a boatload of "holy fuck people are so blind and stoooopid".

A Quick List

Not mine, I ran across it a couple days back on /r/MGTOW, cannot remember what thread:

• Females are a waste of time and money.
• They will never be happy, and wont make you happy.
• Want a friend then get a dog it's cheaper and they bark less.
• A dog will greet you at the door with a smile, no woman ever will.
• Guns and cars are cheaper hobbies than skirts and clubs.
• Buy at least two silk ties, and some cuff links, shine your shoes.
• Fitted double breasted suits are old school cool, don't like it tough.
• Learn how to use tools, all of them, the right way.
• Nothing beats a good burger from a real diner.
• You need to live hard to be hard, there is no other way.
• Talk is cheap, actions are expensive.
• Girls are made with roaches and lice, don't forget it.
• Practice honor, loyalty, discipline, and wisdom in that order.
• A Yankees ball cap is the only one you will ever need.
• Pull your pant's up, don't slouch, use clear speech.
• Nobody cares, get used to it or starve. Pick one!
• Volunteer for everything, even if you don't want to.
• Tip your bartender the most, and enjoy the perks.
• You're not superman, and can't dodge bullets, so don't try it.

The reality is strong within this one.

Make Room! Make Room!

Ironically, a novel about overpopulation by Harry Harrison - one of his bleaker books. Later used as inspiration for the movie Soylent Green, though cannibalism was never in the original book.

We have no room in our lives to grow.

Likewise, we have no physical room to grow any more. Which I think causes a large amount of problems in society.

Two hundred years ago, the social misfits and outcasts and rebels could go to the New World. An entire continent open to expansion, exploration, adventure. Room for growth.

Hell, the British Empire was growing. India, Thailand, Jamaica, China, Africa, wherever. There was room for growth.

They deported undesirables to Australia, the south seas prison colony. They settled Australia and New Zealand. Room for growth, outside of the mouldy old isles of the Empire.

No longer.

Society is boxed in, strangled by rules and regulations, hampered by the fear of doing anything that is not socially approved of. Political Correctness, the group-fears of the Herd, restricting the natural growth of humanity. The greed and abuse of many of the have-mores, who have the freedom to do nearly anything that they wish.

He who has the gold, makes the rules.

No way away from the stultifying cramped-ness that is life today. Yes, you can go visit open spaces and freedom - about the best that is possible for us these days. Only the truly rich can actually buy some of that freedom.

Instead, you rent it for your holidays. Which is fuckin' laughable these days. Most people seem to "rent" a fuckin' luxury trip to a beach, at an exorbitant cost, with full service. Or head over to South-East Asia in a hunt for some strange dick or pussy. To enjoy bragging about their "exotic" sexual encounter - err - I mean, destination.

The silliness of people can be breathtaking. There are excellent beaches in New Zealand in summertime, yet instead people go to destinations such as Rarotonga. Spend eleven-plus months of the year slaving your guts out, so that you can go waste as much of your saved money as possible experiencing the "luxury" of the nouveau-rich for two weeks.

Rinse and repeat for years - decades - on end.

Still you have not grown. There is no room in your life for it.

Time

Your time is valuable.

This is gonna come across as another railing rant against PUA and pickup and game. In the situation of taking that to an extreme: yep.

The time of your life is precious. Spending it to do what you want is one thing - taking something to excess, to an obsession, to the point of craving it so bad that you're shitting on your own dignity - is just dumb. It's also an indication of how badly you're addicted to attention, narcissistic-wise.

You can pretty-much get ass anywhere, though the quality varies. So does the amount of silliness and shit you have to go through to get it.

When you're responsible for millions of dollars of other peoples livelihoods, you tend to become somewhat allergic to the silliness. All these drama games that dumbass women seem to love - all horseshit. Mindfuck games, he-said-she-said, snipe-snipe-snipe, politics, backstabbing, shit-stirring, drama. Fuck that noise. I don't give a flying fuck, other than as antipathy: wanting to stay as far away as possible from that shit.

I got more important stuff on my mind. So should you. (In fact, so should they - however, they've been screwed over mentally and emotionally by their fellow-women all their lives. I'd pity them, except that on the whole they're undeserving of any form of pity. Plus schadenfreude is more fun.)

So I look now at PUA and think: guys, you really don't have anything that important in your lives, do you.

Don't get me wrong. It's good to have the skills of seduction to some degree. To have Game integrated into your life. To be a man that a woman would be proud to associate with. It's good to learn something new.

An endless chasing after pussy, validation coming from the quality (looks) of pussy that you're sticking your dick into? To a certain extent, sure. To excess though?

Fuck, you really don't have anything that important in your lives, do you.

I look at the female dancers, their propensity for drama and shit. Their obsession with dance and games and backstabbing and politics and suchlike. How that takes precedence over everything else.

Fuck, you really don't have anything that important in your lives, do you.

Get something worthwhile in your life, worth spending your time on.