crankin’ the amps…

…won’t get fooled again…

Hello Dearest Friends,

I’ve realized that I am blogging in a voice that is no longer my own if it ever was. Quite frankly, I am tired of logging in, working myself up into a tizzy while listening to some undergound heavy metal and writing in a voice that feels less sincere and more imprisoning with each passing day. I’ve realized that the rage I portray isn’t the rage of someone who has been injured in real life. It is fueled by narcissism and entitlement. I’ve not made myself a better man by reading anti-game blogs, MGTOW or MRA stuff. With much soul searching, I now realize what erudite tumblr feminists understood without any critical analysis and purely on their intuition–misandry don’t real. In the past I’ve looked at the superb writings of pro-feminist males such as Hugo Schwyzer and Figleaf with suspicion and tried to refute their views with the uncaring, cold hard views of cynicism and logic. I now realize I was blind to the bigger message because of my privilege and entitlement. I need to be of greater utility to others, especially women. Male disposability is something made up by selfish basement dwelling virgins–truly some vile shit.

This is where you think I’m going to bash the manosphere and say the SPLC had it right-wrong. While 96% of it is garbage that should be censored, there is some great stuff. I’m going to start juicing on the recommendation of the fabulous Matt Forney, surely one of the finest minds of our generation. I’m also going to begin the fast food paleo diet ™ and, uh as far as self improvement, here is the zinger. After my self improvement routine, I hope to have the 12% lean mass beach body that babes love. And my hopes are the penis enlargement isn’t just an inerwebz fad. I’ll finally be the man I’ve always wanted to be. I’m also gonna get some extra T. With my new and improved bod, I’m gonna buy some e-books by Clarise Thorn so I can practice ethical and feminist approved pick-up. I realize much of my bitterness wasn’t my own but inspired by those disgusting MGTOW men. I realize now that my body is a gift to give others pleasure. Those selfish bastards would rather be celibate or pay an empowered conventionally attractive woman–and at that, pay not even for the sex but for her to leave and not complicate their threadbare lonely lives. And those self absorbed MGTOW’s truly are the lowest of the low, unlike lesbian separatist feminists, they won’t even give gay sex a try. I’d like to find another man on the pro-feminist path and since sexuality is culturally conditioned and not innate, have him show me the way. Even if I break down in tears and have to get blood poisoning drunk to complete the act I want to conquer my culturally conditioned homophobia. It’s the only way to be sex positive. I will only penetrate a vagina with my penis if extra enthusiastic consent is achieved but I want all women to know that my tongue is available for cunnilingus 24/7. Throat cancer be damned, I think those stats were made up by woman hating MRA’s. No fear of HPV, herpes or chlamydia will hold my tongue back-to do otherwise would be blatant misogyny.

Now I can’t go any further without mentioning that beacon of light; Chuck Rudd shines brightly in a world of darkness. I originally wanted to think that his views and the views of his ever insightful and on point alt-right commenters were racist. I knew deep down that like a loving parent dispensing bad tasting medicine, my discomfort was for my own personal growth. I was “uppity” for not unquestioningly accepting his world views. I now see how POC’s, NAM’s, SWPL’s and victims of miscegenation such as myself are truly selfish and it is benevolent and intelligent white men such as Chuck who built civilization. I realize that I am on the lower end of the hbd scale and if I do better than him at an IQ test, well the test must be flawed. If I earn more money, it is not because of hard work but because the system hates merit. If I write an original thought, it must be because I plagiarized it from someone higher on the hbd scale even if we can’t find that specific someone. Only a truly selfish POC, NAM or SWPL would go 40k into debt then get a part-time service job so they can blog. Powerful purebreed white men like Chuck hunted the mammoth with occasional help from Hugo Schwyzer and David Futrelle so that we could all eat.

Now if you think Chuck and his ilk are great guys, you don’t have a clue who does the real heavy lifting in the world around us. It is upper-middle class white women like Amanda Marcotte and Jill Filipovic. They can feel things so much stronger than the rest of us. It is the white woman’s burden and it is the heaviest weight in the universe. If Chuck hunted the mammoth so we could all eat-a great metaphor for creating the laws and institutions of this world, well then it is surely these ultra-ultra-benevolent women who are our emotional and moral compass. They are always right and never wrong, even if they seem it. They only seem wrong because you are an unfeeling subhuman Nice Guy ™ that has failed to check your privilege at the door. Forget forensic evidence or due process, if an upper-middle class white woman feels uncomfortable for 5 seconds, that is worse then one thousand innocent men being put to death (and the lower on the hbd scale, the better.)

Now I must atone publicly for my worst sin, my addiction to the vilest of the vile-heavy metal music. It is not pornography but heavy metal that is the decline of western civilization. (Sorry to burst your anti-porn bubble, fellow pro-male feminist Robert Jensen.) If you think it is bad that Jesus murders a kitten every time you cleanse your prostate to exploitation videos produced in the San Fernando Valley, it is so much worse what he does every time you listen to metal. He makes an upper-middle class white woman slightly uncomfortable. Just think, all those times when people blasted Metallica. Oh, how awful. The distress has lowered upper-middle class white women’s life expectancy from 86 years, 234 days, 23 hours, 47 minutes and 28.23543 seconds to 86 years, 234 days, 23 hours, 47 minutes and 28.21643 seconds–global warming, boo-hoo, this is the greatest danger of our times. I vow never, ever, ever to listen to any heavy metal again!!!!!

Happy (belated) April Fools Motherfuckers!

Yup, I was so lazy I had to reprint last years post….

“sometimes as a guy you have to hide your pain–and humor is a great way to do that…”

so this video is going around…

I really don’t have much to say on female on male rape nor do I want to get into some esoteric debate on whether it is “rape” or “forced to penetrate”…

The thing that struck me is that he’s saying that as a man, humor IS THE ONLY ACCEPTABLE
WAY TO EXPRESS PAIN. Everything else is weakness and failure.

Maybe this is the real reason you see so many more male comedians that females. Maybe it’s not teh eville patriarchy ™ forcing womyn away from careers in comedy, it’s just they have many more socially acceptable avenues to fully express themselves…

long live Randy Rhoads

…am I progressing???

Here’s another thing I’ve recorded…

I used the same backing track for Shroomjam I a little while back…

…sometimes I feel like I’m stagnating and sometimes growing…

…hard to tell…

…just an observation..

..this song…

…seems similar to this..

wonder if ‘tallica’ll ever cover freebird…

…when your number’s up, your number’s up…

…that’s an old phrase my uncle got from nam…

I was reading The Honest Courtesan and came across an article about a guy who died of a heart attack while getting laid. Well, if ya gotta go, I guess that’s the best way…

…this generation vs. that…

I think both have MGTOW elements and views on freedom…

…however, I think Heath Ledger’s interpretation of the Joker was something really unique and shows a nihilism that is entirely modern…

3 Fucking Years???

I just got a notification that I’ve been blogging for three years.

Time flies…

Reprint: Don’t Read if Easily Grossed Out

2nd warning,don’t read if easily grossed out….

Really, it’s on you if you read this and are grossed out, three warnings, how many can I give ;)

I had a very greasy California Burrito today–did not realize the ramifications it would cause. Casually, I drove by the Adult Bookstore. Today was not to be like other days. On this grand day, I would investigate. The morning had proved hectic; rushed and unpleasant. Due to time constraints, I had not performed my morning masturbation ritual. Feeling horny, I perused the section with Live Girls in neon lights. A raven haired beauty lured me into a small booth. She explained how to putt money into a vending-like machine. She said “Make yourself comfortable.”

The kleenex box on the wall implied that many events of voyeurism combined with self-pleasure went on in this dark, dank room. I undressed, fastidiously putting my shirt and trousers on the door hook. All the while leaving my sneakers on. My heart began racing. I putt a crisp twenty into the machine and saw the lovely vixen undo her bikini top. Unabashedly, I began stroking my rapidly engorging member. She got up close to the glass. Her breath was like frost as she stuck out her pierced tongue and made muffled cooing sounds. Withing seconds, I was at full mast. My day had improved by leaps and bounds since this dreadful, dreary morning. My vigorous self pleasuring had left my strong hand exhausted. I switched to my less dominant hand as the show got better. The lovely woman took off her bikini bottoms. She began touching her beautiful vagina. I noticed some wetness, and it seemed that she was also aroused. I observed her many tattoos. One looked like a skull emitting blue flames. On her right arm was the beginning of a sleeve of astrological/astronomical ink. The back of her left thigh had a symbol that seemed similar to a yin yang. Not only was she beautiful but her mythical markings were ones only an interesting person would choose. I really wanted to hug and kiss this awesome stranger. The glass was a mortal enemy that made this encounter almost fantasy. As electrified pleasure shot from the nerve endings in my penis, my mind raced. I wanted to whisper so many nothings to this exquisite creature.

A partition started coming down, indicating that this show and the high point of my day was ending. The pallid but delicately beautiful goddess blew me a parting kiss. I was left in near darkness to saviour my moment. With intense pressure, spermatazoa flew onto the glass. Perhaps only a tablespoon of baby batter went to splatter–it felt as if a whole gallon of milky fluid shot from my cock. The release was intense; it was if a migraine headache instantly left. The heavy feeling in the back of my testicles was now gone. I felt fifteen pounds lighter. My whole body instantly relaxed. I could feel sweat dripping down the small of my back.
Sadly, I inform you; as above mentioned–my whole body relaxed. This is not a fortuitous event when one has consumed a greasy California Burrito beforehand. The next sensation was agonizingly familiar to anyone unlucky enough to crap their pants. It was the trepidacious feeling of no return. I had perhaps two seconds before a messy incident. There were markedly few options available to me. Thoughtlessly, I aimed my buttocks towards a wastebasket filled with crumpled tissues. I felt as if my anus had become a jet spray. Some of the lava-like excrement dripped along my butt-cheeks. By favorable chance, this fine establishment had provided a prodigious supply of kleenex. I was able to save myself the low grade humiliation of a soiled pair of “tightey whitey’s”. Inexorably, I thoroughly wiped my bunghole to a state of sorness.

There was a dull knock on the door. “Hurry up, there’s a line…” barked an unsympathetic female voice. Haphazardly but hurriedly, I dressed in the dim, confined room. I pulled a five dollar bill as gratuity for the beauty who had provided me with immense, unforgettable erotic joy. I quickly exited the small enclave–meekly handing her the tip. Abandoned were all my hopes of striking up amusing banter with the exquisite creature. I figured my best option was to make a haste escape before the malodorous foulness entered her precious nostrils. With my ambitions dashed, I headed out with my head hung low. A beautiful blond in another booth smiled at me. Glancing back I returned her gregarious expression. (I would love to experience ten minutes of bliss with this amorous bombshell). My pocketbook was lighter, so were my bowels. I had just experienced the two greatest releases a man can experience within momments of each other-Orgasm & Excretion. Do not pity me. ‘Fore there is always another day for another swashbuckling adventure. If you must, feel sorry for the poor schmuck who went in after me

article was originally posted here.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 32 other followers