I haven’t been blogging much lately, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing.  I harnessed my narcissism to drag over some of my comments from there to here.    This was from the first few pages of a google search; there are trillions more over there.

Men try to win the argument in order to win over the group, women try to win over the group, in order to win the argument.

That’s how I know who are the women on this board.

I’m only slowly realizing why DA brings out revulsion in me.

He is the antichrist.  The anti joy.  The anti life.  The anti struggle.  The anti personal betterment.  He is unholy, like stagnant water.

I don’t know why people have this aversion to marketting, and aversion to propoganda. Aversion to social manipulation. As if it is somehow cheating or fake to have some charisma and stage presence.

Eighty percent of men fuck like little boys, coming in under twenty minutes, at very best.

Eightey percent of men prefer to be stuck in a comfortable rut.

Eighty percent of men pull statistics out of their ass, in times of need to make a valid point.

Of the remaining twenty percent, few have the inspiration or aptitude to learn how to date. Dating involves endless new experiences. Most people don’t have the stomach for it.

When I got married, at 24, I gave my wife a $10 silver ring. Actually, it cost me $2.50, as I bought rings wholesale for my business.

After the divorce, she wore it for years.

The wedding cost me nothing, unless you count the years of torment.

Smart guys very often enjoy hot stupid girls. Sexual chemistry is a surprising brew – the mixtures that work are not always the expected formulas.

And for a smart guy, smarter chicks are way easier to game. You can dazzle them with your wit and they get off on that. Dumb chicks could care less.

Talking with dumb chicks is similar to talking with kids. You don’t exactly have to dumb down the conversation, and you certainly don’t have to choose topics that bore you. Instead you make inside jokes that she is unlikely to get, for your own entertainment. Consider the best childrens cartoons – they are understandable by the kiddies, but have themes and jokes that interest adults.

You can still use your wit with dumb girls, but the focus tends to be more body and emotion centric, as that’s mostly where your chemistry will lie. You can still make them laugh and enjoy your own jokes – even if they won’t get the full nuances of your insights.

People have a tendency to make mental maps to help them navigate the world, and then to overlay those simple maps onto everything, even when direct observation is available.

That’s the basis of predjudice – pre-judging based on expectations.

We need mental maps. The laziness arises from an aversion to cognitive dissonance that arises when the real nuanced world requires us to adjust our mental models.

Most people solidify their mental maps by age 5. Jeesus loves me, yes I know, cause my Mommy told me so. It’s emotionally impossible for them to alter their core beliefs.


we have great and interesting talks all the time.

Congrats, dude.

As i said, I’ve had that a few times. It was a bit different than talking with men, as women on the whole tend to take disagreement as criticism or disapproval, because on the whole women identify with their thoughts, rather than have thoughts.

But no matter if it’s men or women, most people are dull. Of the rare few that aren’t, what percentage do you want to fuck? And of those, what percent do you want to date?

Here in Asia, the opportunities to find an interesting conversationalist female are extremely slim. I gave up a long time ago, and assume that those needs must be met elsewhere.

I’d much prefer to have the conversation again. I used to miss it – now I’ve just forgotten what it was.

But even with access to talking with women on the internet – I think you have to agree – the percentage of interesting woman is a small fraction of the percentage of interesting men. Women are too conflict averse to engage, on the whole. The rare few that engage and are are fun – like Betti or Aoeffe, for instance, aren’t next door. And I don’t cyber date unless I have plans to travel.

My first few years in Asia were bitterly disappointing, in that the women were nowhere near intellectual peers. Boring to tears. It took years of adjustment to just stop looking for them to be, and get from them what I got – sex and companionship and house maintanance and secretarial work and a glass of carrot juice and a blowjob in the morning.

When there are no tourists to hang with, the internet substitutes for male conversation. I like the blog format – thoughts can be well articulated.

Women want to fall in love with an Alpha, tame him and therebey lower his testosterone and turn him into a married Beta provider, and then get some opportunistically on the side or leave him if something better shows up.

It is a war of the sexes. Women are largely unaware of this, and consider themselves a sisterhood of devout angels.


OF COURSE NOT. A Beta is ALWAYS Beta. Was always Beta. From the Dawn of Time. An Alpha is ALWAYS Alpha. Was always Alpha.

Not so at all Men rise and fall, and along with our fortunes so does our testosterone. And confidence.

We are like zebrafish in that way. We don’t get larger or smaller, more and less agressive, depending on how much territory we control.

Men and women know this.



If the goal is to marry and alpha and turn him into a beta and then ditch that person when something better comes along (did this happen as a result of the laws in our society,..

Women don’t consciously decide to fall out of love, any more than men do. It seems part of our biology that its the norm to fall out of romantic love after one or two years. The difference worth noting about women is that they are opportunistic feeders of two things: 1)Alpha sperm, and 2)An Alpha protector.

Men are opportunistic about pussy in a cute young body.

As soon as they are married, women do their damnedest to turn the Alpha into a private toy boy. This is not due to laws – it’s female nature. The strategy of her genes, played out into her subconscious instincts.

It’s in the womens genes best interest to cuckold a child, or change partners, and not have all her kids from the same dad. So not even Donald Trump can stop keeping a close eye on Ivana, or whoever he is “married” to. And they got divorced – possibly because she got uber-bitchy, and initiated divorce through nagging.

As for the rest of your questions, I’ll let other interested parties throw in their view, as the whole concept of marriage disgusts me. I”m out of that game, and prefer muchly other games.

I’ve got Al Jazeera on my TV right now. An enormously respectable source of news, information, and commentary. I’m seeing crowds of Arabs, fomenting in the street. They sure do get emotional and passionate.

Too emotional? Too passionate? By who’s perspective can we say what is too much or too little? I speak for the Kingdom of Me when I say they seem off the wall. Off the black and holy wall of Meca. Out of their heads drugged up on emotion. Worse than women.

I don’t trust people who get that wacked out on emotion.



a man who doesn’t always think before he acts can end up doing something stupid and violent in his youth that makes him go to jail is ALSO usually rash enough to run into a fire to save their woman or jump in front of a bullet for her.

Dana, I think the truth is more sinister.

Women see men as expendable. Let them take risks. She’ll keep the house after he’s dead, and find a new savior.

Maurice – of course we agree that females are attracted to risk takers.  But risk takers are gamblers, right? Therefore the females are also gambers. Right?

So the male gamber is expendable. The female uses the male as the proxy for her gambling habits.

Cinderellas, all of them.

Maurice, in human tribes, it’s more complicated than braun. There are too many avenues to the top. Sometimes the top is not even the position of king.

Women hedge.

They use men as gambling chips.  I’m sure you heard that women fuck alphas, and settle with betas?

Hedging the bet.

Hypergamous. Social climbers. Men are the tools, not the ends.

I agree, the woman doesn’t know she’s gambling.

She is.

We agree.

The woman is in love. Until the bad boy is dead or leaves her. And while she shops for a man with an impressive insurance portfolio.

Nuther words? Men are expendible.

Not emotionally. Practically.

Women love bad boys, and don’t much care that they might die – on the level of the inner gambler in her.

Women gamble.

They are social climbers, taking risks, just like the bad boys.

Mandy, pain can release endorphins, which causes pleasure.

Sometimes people rise from licking nipples to gently biting, to hard biting.

Sometimes people then experiment with a little ass slapping.

It takes off from there.

The intention is not insult. It’s a step by step process. An effective one.


Naive men who have been taught that women like nice guys invariably end up as bitter woman-haters because of this.

Ya, the stage after disillusionment can be anger. But eventually comes acceptance.

Nothing wrong with a good devilish whore. I love mine.

S – talking about raw chemistry versus intellectual compatibility, and the difficulty of getting both

Sure, that’s all good and true, but I’m entering a professional field. I need someone I can relate to intellectually too.

Ya, ideally we all want that, don’t we?

I know to which side I lean, when I make my compromises. I like my life to be sexually supercharged, and when it isn’t, a little bit of me dies inside each day.

I want and need to be very alive. Intellectual compatibility is important, and nurturing, and good. But not sufficient. At bare minimum I need high capacity super-sex.

Ideally, I’d have it all. Till then, I have what I need most.

O, riffin “To me, when I hear the word “cool” I think of…”

I think of teenagers and in crowds and out crowds.

I’m more into trans-cool. Beyond even meta-cool. A place where George Gershwin cool.

Not about in-group and out group. Not about meta-narrative.

About panache.

o be fair, men are also being encouraged to be out of control in a lot of ways, like binge drinking, but not in the ways they would most likely enjoy, like punching whores in the face and raping them–since those lead to jail.

Actually, Jack the ripper is not a normal guy who lost his inhibitions. He’s just a sociopath with violent tendencies.

Most sociopaths don’t have violent tendencies. So he’s an outlier of outliers.

It’s not like our anger is under the surface and controlled. It’s that people are stupid and piss us off, and should stop that. After we tell them twice. And after we ignore them as long as possible. And after we move away from their sphere.

And after that?

Well,that’s the attitude most people have. Kill, yes, but not first or second option.

Humans who are not sociopaths don’t want to kill.

I think the biggest problems western men face, problems that lead to depression, are stress and lack of pussy.

Living in the west is a high stress low satisfaction arrangement. Long work hours, expensive rents, high expectations. And pussy that is most attracted to the successful man.

Moving to Asia lifted my years long bouts with depression and anxiety. The lowered stress levels took a year or two to sink all the way into my body, but what a change. What a lifestyle and life change.

And the pussy. Non-monogamous dating suits me very well. Much easier in Asia.

I’d never live in the west again without bringing a bunch of Asian gals, travelling a lot, and being wealthy. Being middling to lower class there sucks sucks sucks. Dreary and stressful.

Did you ever consider giving stupid chicks a whirl? They are frustrating and unsatisfying for conversation, but are easily dominated and can be great fun.

I know it’s an odd mindset. One my younger self would never imagine I’d be writing about. Enjoying stupid girls.

It’s like sex without love. Sure, it’s not as good as sex with love, but its still sex, and sex is still good. Dating dumb girls is similar. Not the whole package, but a package.

And as for crazy, I would believe. MOST women are crazy. It’s usually only a matter of degree. Women are nuts, and many are bat-girl nuts.

I’d take a stupid fun girl who is not nuts over a smart nutjob any day, thank you.

I’ve mentioned that I no longer hold out for the whole package – but I do have some experience with dating very intelligent women. I even did date a whole package girl once. Even proposed. In the long run it turned out better that she went for a guy with a preferred passport, as now she lives as a feminist man hating rarely fucking depressive workaholic. And the other highly intelligent women all had their highly intelligent issues. Major drama. Always.

Nuff of that noise. Make me my carrot juice, give me a blowjob, put on your sexy dress, we’re going out. Shhh, don’t talk.

I had one girlfriend who, when asked about the handmark on her face, declared quite chirpily and cheerfully that she received it in sex play, and that she liked it. Which she did. Extreme little girl.

I used to walk out of our house and go find her on the street and grab her by the wrist, telling her it was time to fuck now. She was so proud to be taken like that, and would smile and wave bye bye to her family and friends.

Some people really enjoy being physically dominated, and have no social qualms about it.

As soon as it becomes clear to me that I have no sexual chemistry with a woman, that I have not a thing to gain by chivalry, I treat her like a man. With no ruth.

You seem to handle a lack of ruth pretty well. You got some balls, which is good. I still think you are a dangerous and deluded gold digger who will never know how deeply you are lacking in what a man profoundly needs, but hey – that never stopped you. That’s fem-balls, and a man respects balls.


And if it amused me, I would successfully wrap every male poster here around my finger (not a big hurdle, BTW). Be thankful that I find such a task vulgar.

Is that empty braggadocio? You know, some of us have been played and played. We’ve seen it and then seen it again. It’s funny when a girl thinks she’s playing, and doesn’t know she’s being played. Or politely ignored.


In any case, we all need to understand that what you have to offer and what you can get out of it has no necessary connection in the sexual marketplace.

Kinda, but not quite really.

For instance my homestead GF is dull with words and dull with sex. She doesn’t deserve me. Except that I make sure she pulls her weight in every possible way otherwise. And when I feel an inequality, there is no choice but to pull away. Physically, emotionally, sexually.

You get what snag, true, but then you also get back what you give.

Some people just can’t grasp that latter point.

And who wants to know in what ways they lack?

On my cranky hungover morning afters, and on some blotto night before the morning afters, I rail into my women. Just freaking wail with insults. Does a body good. My girls never have to ask in what ways they don’t stack up.

Nor do they ever lack for lovin confirmations for how they make a man out of me and fill my life with joy.

What makes you a gold digger is your attitude of getting something above your station, and of not paying attention to how exactly you are going to continue to pay and pay and devotedly pay for that something.

If not with traditional hetero romantic sex, some of the time, you’d better come up with something.

S&M is a game. People who only play that game actually believe the roles, and are two dimentional and shallow, and therefore they make the worst dominants or submissives. Boring and bad at it. Shitty fucking.

Obsidian – thanks for the remark about the blog. For a few years I used it as my repository for creative output, but lately I’ve lost interest. A hefty portion of what’s there is mediocre, a good portion is crap, and some of it tickles me each time I read it. It’s like looking at old photos, reareading old blog posts.

I sometimes wonder about the ebbs and surges of creative urges. I think living a chaotic and testosterone ridden life fuels creativity. The domestic live I led the last two years eventually dulled me.

So I moved.


Female empowerment is at the center of romance. Always.

And so male oppression is dead. Long live male oppression. Feminism is dead. Long live feminism. The war between the sexes is dead. Long live the war.

The arms race is escalating. Exciting times. It’s like we are near a deconstructionist era of amour. I suppose what follows the post modern must be a heavy emphasis on irony. Sounds fine to me. Accept the war, embrace it, use it, and be good at it.

*Has your partner ever dragged you by the hair into the toilet, only to pee on you?
*Do you routinely get peed on?
*Have you ever been pushed around the kitchen floor like a mop, on the love handle of your mans broom stick?
*Has your partner ever snuck in a finger into the stinkpot during sex?
*Does your partner come in your mouth?

All these could be signs that you are a victim of sexual battery. Call our hotline today. A friendly dyke will listen carefully to your concerns, and give you options you need to consider.

Carpet – it’s not just for flooring anymore. It’s what’s for dinner!

“I love you baby”, she repeated. “I know. I like it. That’s a good thing”, he allowed. “Yes, it is”, she agreed, her voice a mix of relief, anxiety, glee, and lament. Her hopeful doe eyes finally lowered, as she let her head find rest on his bare chest.


Ah yes, the almost tame, but not fully house trained Alpha.

I notice that he has not uttered the faithful words “I love you.” Not quite tamed yet.

And the not-quite-tamed male could just as truthfully have said “I love you too, little girl”.

That just would not have been strategic, and he would never do something so crass to someone he was into.



Obsidian, if you fuck a girl right the first time, she will come back for more.

Ya, but, there is no one right way to fuck. And while one girl may want you to pound her so hard the bed moves across the room, the other may prefer a love-me-tender approach. Some like to be on top, some like to be all over the room, and some only on the bottom. While you can read some sexual tells on a first date, and teach her a few new tricks, unless her fucking style matches your own, fucking her right the way she wants to be fucked is hit and miss.

But I usually look at it the other way round. If she doesn’t fuck me right, I might not come back for more.

Then again – I once broke up with a girl because she was a lousy lay. She promised me that she’d do better, if I took her back, and I said “No way. You are hopeless. Some people just can’t fuck” She persisted and I caved, and proceded to make her a little booklet of diagrams of sex positions and techniques. She was a diligent student and eventually became really fun in bed. She’d leave me quivering.

Some women like tongue on clit right away, some can barely stand it to have direct pressure and you have to work them up to it. Every pussy has a personality.

Why not notch it up? I know that some men’s wives hunt fresh pussy for them as tokens of devotion. That kind of devotion is sure to keep a man within a marriage!

DA could offer men to his wife.

By the way, a husband once did exactly that to me, and as I was in a time of need, I graciously accepted. They were very warm hosts. And I liked their kids too.

The problem with whores, is that they tend to make poor Madonnas.

The problem with choosing the chicken salad, is that it tends to make a poor hamburger. Just pick something off the fucking menu and eat it! Didn’t you even notice that you are hungry?

I had a dream last night, in which I introduced to my high-school crowd a particularly trashy and insanely sexy girlfriend. The short, mini-skirted and pantyless sex vixen with the soap-suds brain. The tension was spectacular, and touched all parts of me.

On the one hand, the high school socialites were respectable, kind, open, warm hearted and sincere. On there other, here was this on fire sex vixen.

Hmmm. Let me think on this choice.

The tension in that scene was that the socialites had never met a vixen. It was puzzling to them.

You can’t mix and match though. The vixen was just way too extreme to ever fit into any social scene. And the socialites were way to socialised to ever be extreme.

So, you eat one meal at a time. But you got to choose.

I’m slowly developing a theory of mind regarding trolls. I’m guessing they truly despise themselves. They feel unredeemable. They have a malaise of the soul. They feel not unloved, but unloveable.

Maybe they don’t quite despise themselves – as that would take some sort of conviction, of which they are incapable, as that would take some sort of self-trust, which they can not have, because they despise themselves, but they do feel completely unworthy.

And so, in order to get any kick out of life, these curs try to gain power over those that do feel worthy, that do feel loved.

No matter what it takes, in order to get any sort of upper hand, they aim to make people pissed off.

Because they can’t engage in human ways. Even if they tried. Which may be why they feel so unworthy. Because… THEY REALLY ARE!

I’m guessing trolls have some sort of developmental disability disorder that makes them unable to have empathetic and responsible human interaction that is grounded in a sense of mutual enjoyment and curiosity.

They are broken people. And sometimes, you’ve got to deal with a broken person as a broken person. Not as a real person. As the sociopath should be treated differently than a real person should. Sociopaths are not real people. Trolls are not real people.

They are vampires of the human spirit, forever hungry, forever undead.

Trolls are not people too. They deserve neither pity, nor love, as they can feel inside their heart neither. They deserver masturbation and a huge porn collection, and an xbox. They don’t deserve an internet connection.

What if the same developmental delay that disabled grown-up talk also disabled introspection?

They say that is what happens to the fried brains of those with BPD.

I’m guessing take a pinch of Aspergers, throw in a pinch of BPD, and you’ve got yourself an internet troll.

Either way, YOU are wasting YOUR time trying.

I know about wasting time with people incapable of introspection, as I’ve racked up years worth of dealing with BPD trait rich “people”. One was so insanely developmentally impaired as to occasionally see shit in the air. She needed meds. At that severity, give up all hope of inspiring introspection, ye who enter here.

I keep saying it. Some people are fucked up, and can not be redeemed. Unless by their own will. Which they may or not find in this life.

No, scratch that. A sociopath can not find the will to stop being a sociopath, and even if he did, could not stop being a sociopath.

find your own Implications.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

wrong. Trolls deserve connection to multiplayer rooms with ttheir xboxes. But not www connection.

Correct. While I, on the other hand, deserver a Lawnmower Man style internet hookup.

I’ll be good to ya’ll, and the deserved elite can join me in Lawnmower Man space. The sex will be as sublime and divine as two quasars making out and exploding in unison near a pair of orbiting black holes. Time and space will quiver, inside and outside will lose meaning, and we will blow all sense as we become who we really are – again – united to the unknowable vast timelessness.

Like sex can be.

Oh, and then we can get into some orgies, in Lawnmower Man virtual reality enhanced by silicon enhanced brains hooked up wirelessly to the Over-Net. Some orgies in which we can feel each other, not just seem to feel each other. Empathy that is more than mirror neurons, but wirelessly connected mirror neurons, networked endlessly.

I’ll be there for that internet connection.

The trolls won’t. They don’t deserve it.