Thursday, 27 October 2016

The Message

Her: You should go out with X, she likes you.

Me: No.

Her: What? *hamstershit*

Me: She sent me a message. I got it. No.

Her: *more hamstershit*


Both words and actions are the message. When you read the message behind the message.

Jumping ship from one man to another.

Divorcing her husband to play the field.

Partying when her kids are with the dad.

No thanks. No thanks. No thanks.

Read the message. Her actions and words tell you it. They are quite open. She's not hiding what she is. She's not even thinking about it. She simply subconsciously relies upon your clueless inattention.

You simply need to pay attention to what that message, those words and actions that comprise it, mean.

Her message is sub-rosa, unconscious, unintentional. She's not consciously aware of it. It's there, though - in the disconnect that she shows, that is very evident between, the shallow depths of her head and the reality that surrounds her.

"My children are my world."

That's why she jumped ship. That's why she dumped her husband. That's why she's a slut. That's why she changes boyfriends every month. That's why she's a party-girl. That's why it's all their fault.

You don't have to gloss over it. You can pick it up - you can be aware of it - you can read it. That message. That's right, that message. Clear as glass, obvious as daylight.

Hidden in plain sight. Even from her self.

And you can choose to act upon it, rather than other more overt messages. Messages like the bullshit script that society expects - insinuates - demands that you follow.

Monday, 24 October 2016

Get Shit Done

Ah, the West!

Once a group of obsessed mad motherfuckers who got shit done... predominantly a bunch of pussies squabbling over which entitled bitch they can dump a cum into tonight.

Not all of 'em.

A good number though.

Maybe 80% of men.

While princess stands on her steel pedestal, legs primly together - at least until someone she fancies comes along. Then it's "all hands on deck" while she services him like a 50-cent whore in a back alley.

Which makes us Men a buncha "deplorables" and a big thank-you to Hillary. Like you never went out and fucked somebody behind the back o' Bill the Prez'.

Funny, given that he's supposedly shootin' blanks. Where the fuck did Chelsea come from? You been catchin' it from somebody else? What, you thought nobody would notice?

Yeah, just sweep that under the carpet. Along with that bitch Monica. You are so much the perfect presidential candidate.

At least us Men can read the writin' on the fuckin' wall. No shit Sherlock. Once we're done shoveling the gravel, we go and do our own thing...

...while the pussies can keep on keepin' on kissin' your rotten and well-used vagina.

One day that steel pedestal will rust all the way through. Princess will fall to lie in the dust, dirt, and muck.

Tell us, then what, whore?

Saturday, 22 October 2016

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?"


"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...

Thursday, 20 October 2016

Mangina In A Nutshell



Thursday, 13 October 2016

Check Your Privilege


Your fuckin' urban privilege, you white university educated bitch.


It's actually quite fuckin' awesome.





Tuesday, 11 October 2016

What Bloody Reward?

Back about a month or so ago, I put up a post about an unattractive mirror that we should possibly look into. In it, I stated that while it appeared that 80% of women are still children - that we men could also be in a similar situation, 80% of us still children also.

On that post, commenter Carl made a damn good point:
If there are no incentives for males to become adults, then why should they? For the greater good? LOL
A very damn good point.

In the old days, children were bought up with the mindset that being an adult was a goal to strive for. Adults were looked up to and listened to because of their sheer experience. The young boys knew that being a husband was a massive sacrifice on a mans part. They still did it because it had one major reward:


As we know, there is no respect these days. And certainly no reward. Especially given the trash out there.

Now take a step back and look at society.

Society promised us a reward. Though these days, we are seeing through the peeling reflection of the shithouse mirror and realizing that it's just marketing hype for the hucksters to transfer money from your pocket to theirs.

Giant hunk'o'diamond ring. Honeymoon in Hawaii. The McMansion. Owning a second house (in NZ, a bach) in a scenic place that you visit 2-4 weeks and a couple of weekends a year. Owning a boat or set of jetski's for the family to use.

All of these transfer money from your pocket to somebody else's.

So for most men, the marriage-market is a lie. Advertising. Something to lure you into doing things that are not in your ultimate self-interest.

This leaves us men who have woken up understandably bitter. Moreso if we've been caught up and slaughtered in a divorce/frivorce.

Now take another step back and look at things.

Why are we bitter?

It is because the rest of the world, they, taught us all our lives, that X would bring Y as a reward. Brainwashed us. Fed us a plateful of shit and lies.

When the plateful of shit and lies made us sick, when reality reared up and bit our asses off, we got pissed off and bitter about it.


So it takes us a while to get over the anger and bitterness. Of course. Anyone who says that they can help us fix our problems in quick-short order, with a snap of the fingers, is another huckster selling snake-oil. (Here's my snake-oil sure-fire cancer-cure: grapes. Lots of grapes. If you actually do die from cancer within the year, contact me and I'll send you your money back. Guaranteed. Now here's my bill for $10k, thankyouverymuchNEXT!)

Eventually though, we finally accept that Z is what reality is, not the X/Y that we were brainwashed to believe.

Which leaves us at a loose end. As Carl said above, there's no incentives to become adults. So why should we?

Why should we improve ourselves? Why should we strive? Why should we do something more than just sit in the basement playing computer games? Why?

Go ahead. Play computer games in the basement. That's what you want? Go for it.

Because here's the rub. There's always the crisis of motive to think about. If you improve yourself, if you improve your body, if you improve your income, if you improve your life: is it for you, or is it because it's gonna attract women?

If you've grown up - if you've become an adult - why have you done it?

For the ones who've already screwed you over? Do you really wanna do that? Improve yourself...because you're still actually chasing that pussy...still chasing that lying reward that you were brainwashed with all your life?

Fuckin' hard and deep and painful question, that one. Everyone has to answer it for themselves.

As Carl said: For the greater good? When, in reality, the "greater good" can pretty-much be translated to "for teh wimminz benefit"?

...yeah, fuck that, ay.

So we do what we want. Fuck heaps of chicks as the PUA do? Go for it. Play games in the basement? Go for it. Go walking, tramping, fishing, camping out, taking photographs? Go for it. Whatever you want.

It doesn't matter. We don't want society's reward. We've woken up to the realization that it's a plateful of shit and lies.

Now take a final step back and look at ourselves.

Okay, fuck society. There's no reward there.

Except... a roundabout way...

...there is.

If nothing else, it gives us the time and personal space to enjoy ourselves. We don't have to strive at life, as we would have if we had swallowed the whole marriage-and-children lie and gotten on the treadmill of the ratrace for someone else's benefit.

We're not living hand-to-mouth in the old dangerous days of famine, pestilence, and plague. As single men we have plentiful food and the money and time and ability to go and do stuff that interests us. All without the modern entitled nagging bitch in tow, wasting our lives and destroying our sanity with her drivel.

The thing about society is that so long as we do a certain amount of something, it keeps things going - for us. For our benefit. Yup, be selfish about it. For our personal, selfish, greedy, grasping benefit.

So now to look at it laterally, everything askew, and ask:


That might be the only socially-accepted (aka wimminz-approved) reward. But who says that is the only possible reward in the world?

Teh wimminz? They're wanting the free bennies.

The marketers pandering to teh wimminz? They're wanting to line their pockets at the expense of yours - and in the process, give teh wimminz their free bennies.

The government pandering to teh wimminz? Get a grip. Biggest bunch of lying, thieving, conniving motherfuckers in creation bar none.

This is where the real message of MGTOW is.

Fuck heaps of chicks, play games in the basement, walking, tramping, fishing, camping out, taking photographs, whatever.

Improve yourself, if you want, however you want, for your own personal satisfaction.

For YOUR reward. For what YOU want. Define your own fuckin' success, reward, happiness, goal, end-game - and go for it.

Balls to the fuckin' wall.

Your fuckin' enjoyment.

Your fuckin' path.

That you fuckin' walk.

Ignoring everybody fuckin' else.

Don't give a shit about the fuckin' plantation any more.

So hang up your hat, put away the suit, go fishing and watch the stars in peace. Go and follow your own path to freedom and happiness.

We don't have to choose their view of what a grown-up adult aka slave is. We can choose our own way of growing up.

And hell, still keep a bit of that big ol' kid going. You know, the kid that lives in reality rather than being crushed and dead inside. Like the rest of the poor bastards of slaves still out there.

The poor bastards of slaves that secretly envy you.

In my view - in my opinion - going MGTOW is actually growing up, realizing that there's more out there than the bullshit script, deciding for ourselves what we want, and going hell-for-leather after that, rather than chasing what they - anyone else - wants us to chase.

To hell with teh wimminz and what they want. Ditto for the marketers. Ditto for the government.

For ourselves. For our personal, selfish, greedy, grasping selves.

They think otherwise?

Like in my The Final Answer: What Is MGTOW post - who the fuck do they think they are? They can go fuck themselves.

Talked (written?) myself out for the moment. I think that it's time for a small glass of Grand Marnier.

Gonna step out again for a while.

Good luck to you all.