….the difference between a “slut” and a “whore”….

okay, okay, this ain’t gonna be some PUA type post on the Madonna/Whore complex….

I once heard a joke, “What’s the difference between a bitch and a slut?”

Punchline, “The slut will fuck anyone; the bitch, anyone but you.”

No, it wasn’t told to me by a manosphere guy-it was told to me by a lady who worked at a porn shop….

So on with that line of stinkin’ thinkin’

A “slut” does it for the love of fucking, a “whore” for profit….

Well, in a free market economy, whether pedaling your “assets” on a street corner, slogging it out in a cubicle or sweating in a factory–you’re probably doing something that isn’t exactly to your heart’s desire to get the rent/mortgage paid. Yes, you too are a whore. Okay, okay, if it makes you feel better, call yourself a “War Pig”–just like the Sabbath song….

Now, I might be going on a tangent here, but hopefully I can tie this all together in a cohesive way…

Much like Mr. M3, I have a lost decade. I’ve gone over again in my head if this is something I want to blog about–it is a big part of my life and I can’t deny it. My situation is far different from Mr. M3 but there are a few parallels. I focused on artistic and musical pursuits for most of my twenties. More like they chose me if that makes sense. I had a strong desire to pursue them and if I just got on the corporate career track, I might be sitting on a pile of cash but I’m confident that I’d be sitting on my deathbed with a shitload of regrets for not pursuing my true calling. I do have regrets and moreso, if I am honest about the situation–a whole lot of anger and bitterness.

During most of my twenties I was flat broke. Let’s use the term start-ups use–bootstraping. The spare cash I did have went into buying computers, guitars and various art supplies. I taught myself recording and took a few classes in graphic design. The lonely nights have served me well. Everything I know about computers is because of this and it has gotten me jobs. Ironically, this “delayed gratification” has put me in better and worse shape than most people my age. No divorce, no kiddies (notice I didn’t say “Not that know of… …tehee,”) no mortgage and very little debt. (Strange world we live in, that “wee bit of debt” does more for your credit score than “no debt.”) Long story short, I feel out of step with my generation.

Now this is where I part ways with much of the manosphere. I’ve read Captain Capitalism where he tells guys to be a STEM Major or get a trade. It’s not bad advice per se but… It seems to me that the things we remember about a culture are their art and music. And there are definitely musicians who’ve made a killing. This is something I haven’t seen an MRA or feminist write about and it’s strange given each’s obsession with masculinity. For allot of young guys, a long shot at being a rock star or a professional athlete seems the ticket out of blue collar hell-endless tedious work and no recognition. Perhaps this is why so many rock stars personal lives are disasters. You take a guy who putt all his eggs in one basket, jumped over the cliff and hoped (against hope) that it would all end okay. Sometimes it doesn’t. Well maybe he shoulda taken The Captain’s advice, but maybe life just wouldn’t be as interesting without these guys.

Now I remember when I started reading gender blogs and feminist’s would claim that women were “oppressed” and men were “the oppressors”–wait ain’t Oppressor a deathmetal band? I do remember a sense of anger welling up as I read this. The claim seems little more than the apex fallacy–that is because men are seen in positions of power, ALL MEN are powerful and therefore “privileged.” Well, my life experience was a contradiction to this. I had been broke, I had little interest in becoming a CEO or President of the United States. And even if I did, I’m no Ivy Leaguer-the glass ceiling isn’t just for teh womynz anymore. I am just as shut out of those positions as any average woman. I remember how I got very little support from my family, I did get a tiny bit but allot more pressure to conform to the “suit and tie guy” plan-get a degree, go corporate. I don’t know if that is some kind of bourgeois snobbery on the part of my mother or her idea of the most likely way to get grand kids. Whatever, I never felt like she had my best interests at heart. In fact, I felt that her pressuring me to be something that I wasn’t instead of accepting me for whom I am was far more a form of “objectification” than any dude fapping to a Playboy ever was.

Anyways, things were frustrating, on some levels I was working hard to develop my skills but on the other hand, I was surviving on very little money and no recognition. My “favorite” white nationalist race realist Chuck Rudd always dredges up interesting links. Here’s one he dug up of a writer turning down unpaid work. I “get” the writer’s frustration. I’ve had cover bands ask me to be the 2nd guitarist, after I explain that original music is my focus and I don’t like playing covers they always try to give me a sales pitch. First try, “Maybe we could throw in a few Motley Crue songs and that’ll get you laid.” (I hate Motley Crue.) Second try, this “could” turn into a paying gig after we “pay our dues.” I decline after they’ve already told me that they need money for the rehearsal space and it is a 30 mile drive. –Another situation in regards to my long obsolete graphic design skills. I remember a landscaper asking me if I could design a free logo. I asked if I could have free landscaping for my apartment complex if they agreed to give me free rent for a month. He got mad, he was a professional afterall and free work was beneath him. He had a family to support. Yada, yada. I was supposed to do that for the “experience” and “exposure.” Now while I am the wrong gender and wrong species, a bumper sticker belies the sentiment I was feeling. “I may be a bitch, I’m just not yours.”