A brief spike in traffic

For 3 days running I had over 100 views to the site, akin to a miracle.  I’m not that interesting, so it must’ve all been for recent Jeopardy! contestant Rachel Lindgren.

It’s my duty to warn you thirsty nerds AGAIN that smart women are not a solution to anything and being a sapiosexual is a road to nowhere.  If she’s smart while you’re enamored (subtract 25 IQ points for each boob and asscheek) you’re in QUADRUPLE the danger of being manipulated.  Not that I overly give a shit what happens to you, you’re probably better off than me.

I believe this blog is now 10 or 11 years old, which means little because I rarely posted after 2009, was it?  It has brought me neither joy nor grief, certainly no money or gavina.  I don’t read my own shit so I’ve forgotten most of it, except to remember impassioned movie reviews about Batman (pointless) or politics (far more pointless) and cussing out my wage slave job while doing nothing to improve my lot in life.

Two things happened in the last 5 years which changed the entire arc of my  inclinations, I got out of the shit job and I “discovered” whores.  Also, my father died  at 73 of natural causes, if you count lung cancer as natural.

The whores saved my life.  Once I was getting laid fairly regularly all the Mysteries of Womanhood evaporated, which was bittersweet, but poetry is either written out of your system or it burns you from the inside out like drinking bleach.  Poetry IS drinking bleach, usually for the reader. 

The women’s humanity made me less of a misogynist, and it even seemed a few of them enjoyed the ride beyond getting paid.  (I haven’t been laid in over a year due to health problems so that’s on pause.)

I’m closer to 50 than 40 now.  I’m not better than I was in 2006, but like to think I’ve learned much the last 10 or 11 years.  I wouldn’t trade my scant “life’s work” of writing for falling in love.   

Here are the final lines from a long ago poem.

I know it’s coming, death or a balloon.

The slitted eyes of a petted cat.

American Gods Ep. 4: Tits or GTFO

Ep 4 of American Gods is automatically better than Ep 3 because there are no futt-bucking muslims anywhere. We get the story of the whore wife. What’s worse than her cheating on Sha-dope was marrying the poor fool. He loves her, she loves nothing. More insulting, we see her ass (or a body double’s ass) for less than a second and NO titties, this after last week’s unwelcome gay muslim sausage-fest (for which today’s muslim bombing of the Ariana Grande concert is revenge?)

This is the first episode Sha-dope is allowed to emote, giving him some depth, so there’s that. The saddest part was Dummy the Cat. I was disappointed his ghost self didn’t appear in Anubis’ afterlife sandbox, even just to take a shit.

Oh and uh, since the Hannibal TV show dudes made AG, “Tobias” is back as one of the Old Gods.

 

American Gods Ep. 3: gay Jinn and Juice

We’re almost to the halfway mark of the awful American Gods.  By now you and I are used to the pointless vignettes of random gods interacting with their unfortunate believers. We’ve seen Vikings aka White Warriors made to look like fools by a never-seen wind god, then the following week a Plaid Pimp God of Black Slaves—with a hate-Whitey speech most certainly polished by Shlomo—forcing his followers to commit mass suicide.  At Ep. 3’s start it’s Anubis, only instead of being a man with a dog’s head Nubes is a Black dude, even though ancient Egyptians were not Black.

Forget all that anyway, they’ve outdone themselves this week with muslim finooks.  Well, it’s not really gay since one of the two futt-buckin’ moose limbs is a jinn with flaming eyes.  Just joking, it’s gay times gay times gay and I, like others, predict it’s sure to spur a diaperhead terrorist attack IRL (sadly never in hollywood where promoters of this rubbish reside).

The leprechaun is back, the one who resents “stereotypes” like assuming all ‘chauns are short yet is a fire-haired, pasty-skinned, fighting and drinking Hibernian with an accent Straight Outta Lucky Charms.  Oddly, the ‘chaun needs a certain magic coin to have good luck though otherwise he shits coins out of thin air.  And he didn’t have the bad luck, the poor sap who picked him up while he was hitchhiking did.

To answer your question why I watch this crap if I hate it: it’s only 8 episodes and will be over soon enough.  In its favor this latest ep has probably enraged some muslims with this latest, lauded-by-leftards faggotry.

 

 

 

 

 

Go MGTOW, Young Man

My young brothers, we failed you. I failed you. As someone nearing a half-century on this Flattest of Earths, I take my share of blame for failing you, as every honest man in the Western World must, for not keeping our women on very short leashes.

Giving women “liberation” has led us to our near-doom.

We had no excuse. Our Nigga Who Art in Greek Heaven Aristophanes knew 400 years before Christ that women are nation-wreckers and must be subdued and controlled.

Our first grievous error was giving women the vote. They did exactly as Aristophanes warned they would. Sentimental and easily manipulated, they started voting en masse for welfare programs which destroyed–not helped–families, made Big Government Master and Pimp and Single Motherhood the new Madonna, even though study after study shows kids raised by
single mothers are worse off in every metric.

Our next grievous mistake was allowing women on juries. Men commit the majority of crimes and should be judged by other men, their peers, who are not swayed by sob stories or handsome faces. Before women served on juries, criminals were adequately punished. Now career criminals are released over and over until finally they commit murder, and even then many end up released.

A third grievous mistake was allowing women to whore around as if they were men. Men are biologically wired to sow their seed everywhere. Women are wired to nest and care for offspring. For centuries marriage kept animal instincts in check, providing order and stability, an environment to raise children. Now marriage has been reduced to a legal contract, easily discarded, and the system is rigged against men in every way. The old saying went, “Love alone is not enough to make a marriage.” Now it don’t work at all, not without the order of law.
Women in the workplace have become a predictable and preventable disaster. Even without the nonstop shitstorm of drama women bring, standards have to be lowered. You better hope the woman in your local fire department is a bull-dyke who can drag an unconscious 300lb man out of a burning building. Same for police, a 5-foot-nothing feminist elf with a badge and gun is still no match for a biker giant high on bath salts. Women in the military, no matter how fugly, can always find a sperm donor. They watch from the pier, laughing and pregnant, as military vessels they were assigned to sail off on months-long deployments, leaving them to screw around on base. The feminized military—obsessed with social engineering instead of the best ways to win wars—likes single motherhood and dependency. The latest travesty is new submarines designed to accommodate women. Here’s a sneak preview: underwater brothels.

In case you haven’t noticed, feminism stops at heavy lifting. That’s always been. Men (and soon robots) are left to the gruntwork.

I needn’t tell you, brothers, how impossible women have become even to speak to, or most likely get stuck listening to. Even without the twin Orwellian nightmares of political correctness and accusations of rape culture, it’s sheer hell, listening them prattle on about nothing when they should be learning useful skills like cooking and homemaking.

We are in a race against time and we’re losing. Women, and their despicable feminist manginas, are flooding Western nations with foreigners, who come here for welfare. You might think that actual rape culture—meaning muslims—would dissuade Western women from wanting these savages cruising streets our forefathers built: you would be wrong. Women are incapable of rational thinking or taking responsibility for anything.

A woman usually has to reach her 40s to understand how harmful her misguided compassion has been; even at that age many women remain girl-children. Women ARE children and require constant supervision and restraint.

I could tell you the future will be brighter, that men will regain control of nations and put things right, but I refuse to lie. You grew up knowing only porn, waifu pillows and video games. The cellphone has ended communication. Traditions–especially traditional gender roles–are dying. What’s left of the West will be claimed by muslim savages, for matriarchies ALWAYS lose to patriarchies, and the muslim beast, vile and backwards as he is, does not tolerate women disobeying his orders.

We would be better off nuking ourselves before we let women or muslims have the world. At least then the destruction would be justified.

Now that that’s all out of the way and you know the (losing) odds verily I say unto you, in the time we have left: learn MGTOW. Pronounced “MIG-Tau” it stands for Men Going Their Own Way.  It isn’t “Men’s Rights,” it’s a way of life where you do what makes YOU happy, and do not sacrifice your time, money and happiness on the altar of feminine vanity and ingratitude.

Only men can feel, only men can love.

Go to youtube. Learn MGTOW.

SHADILAY.

Anti-White American Gods

I tried reading American Gods long ago and only made it a few pages. The premise sounded promising but I couldn’t get past the protagonist’s stupid name, “Shadow Moon.” Amazon reviews assured it’s yet another regurgitation of the same left-wing horseshit you can suffer anywhere else. 

FF to 2017 and the American Gods TV series. Shadow Moon is played by a 100% Black dude when in the novel he’s shaded more like Obozo. The author, Neil Gaiman, approved of this change. Why wouldn’t he, when the studio handed him bulging sacks with ‘$’ printed on them?

In the first episode of two released so far, S. Moon starts out in prison. He has a dream where his wife appears and lo, she’s lily-white. Of course.

I’m so tired of this shit, the in-your-face Black Man/White Woman pairings. It’s not incidental and it’s not making the best casting choice. If Shadow Moon was made Black (isn’t naming a Black person Shadow RAYSISS?) to ramp up Diversity, why not employ a Black actress to be his wife? Black women are equally unhappy with these unlikely couples, and should be.

The first episode was passable. Artsy, well-shot but plodding with a simpleton script. You can already tell any Big Reveals later are not going to make up for time invested watching.

Hollywood doesn’t try to temper its Anti-White bias anymore. Every single White person in the first episode is one or a combination of callous, murderous, psychotic, adulterous or raysiss. The one exception is Ian McShane, but
1) his character is central to the story
2) he’s older than bone dust and therefore not a threat.

If the first episode was standard anti-White fare, the second hammers the message home, beginning on A SLAVE SHIP. Slave porn, never depicted for any reason but to enrage Blacks in real life.

One of the slaves makes a prayer to a CG spider, who then appears in the cargo hold as Orlando Jones wearing a plaid pimp-suit, a god named Anansi aka Mr. Nancy.

With his patented bulging bug-eyes and snarls, Jones delivers a hate-Whitey speech worthy of any SJW dignitary, only more deft and literate. Your life is a living hell, Black Man, 400 years, nothing is ever your fault. The only thing missing was a slave wearing a Black Lives Matter t-shirt.

A truly concerned African god might appear before the African kings who enslaved and sold their own people and warn them to stop. Nancy’s solution is to free the original supplicant from his chains and command all the slaves to riot, turning the slave ship into a burning failboat where everyone dies, proving Nancy’s an even bigger asshole than the slave-owners.

Most TV isn’t worth writing a single word about. I wrote this mainly to test my keyboard’s batteries. The new batteries appear to be working.