I found this amusing considering the subjects that I’ve posted about lately. It’s a short clip but it’s funny as hell. Enjoy.
(h/t to Tom for sending it to me.)
I found this amusing considering the subjects that I’ve posted about lately. It’s a short clip but it’s funny as hell. Enjoy.
(h/t to Tom for sending it to me.)
(Mitch’s note: I wrote this article way back in 2011 for another blog but reposted it here back in August of 2012. There’s been some interest in it considering what I wrote yesterday so I figured I’d publish it again for those who haven’t been here for long.)
I had a good number of my readers disagree with me when I wrote this statement in a previous article about the coming inevitability of sexbots in widespread distribution:
“Women have a biological need for regular injections of semen and quite literally go a bit crazy without it given the hormonal shot they get from them.”
Well, it turns out I was correct in my assumption. A new study conducted by the State University of New York shows the correlation between how often a woman gets a seminal injection from unprotected sex and the state of her mental health. And it’s not just vaginal sex that confers these benefits, oral sex where the woman swallows her partners ejaculate works just as well. From the Daily Mail U.K.:
“Oral sex is good for women’s health and makes you feel happier, according to a study which studied the effects of semen’s ‘mood-altering chemicals’.
It follows research which shows that seminal fluid contains chemicals that elevates mood, increases affection, induces sleep and also contains at least three anti-depressants.
The researchers also claim that women who have regular unprotected sex are less depressed and perform better on cognitive tests.
Semen contains a plethora of chemicals along with spermatozoa, including cortisol, which is known to increase affection, estrone, which elevates mood and oxytocin, which also elevates mood.
It also contains thyrotropin-releasing hormone (another antidepressant), melatonin (a sleep-inducing agent), and even serotonin (perhaps the best-known antidepressant neurotransmitter).
Given these ingredients – and this is just a small sample of the mind-altering ‘drugs’ found in human semen – Researchers Gallup and Burch, along with the psychologist Steven Platek, hypothesised that women having unprotected sex should be less depressed than suitable control participants.”
Who would have guessed that ejaculate had all those beneficial chemicals and hormones in it? If you think about it, evolutionarily it makes sense; the benefits from sex aren’t just the pleasurable parts of it. Biologically, it’s necessary for women to have regular injections of semen. And that’s just what the researchers found:
“Recent sexual activity without condoms was used as an indirect measure of seminal plasma circulating in the woman’s body.
Each participant also completed the Beck Depression Inventory, a commonly used clinical measure of depressive symptoms.
The most significant findings from this study, published in the Archives of Sexual Behavior, were that, even after adjusting for frequency of sexual intercourse, women who engaged in sex and ‘never’ used condoms showed significantly fewer depressive symptoms than did those who ‘usually’ or ‘always’ used condoms.
Importantly, these chronically condom-less, sexually active women also evidenced fewer depressive symptoms than did those who abstained from sex altogether.
By contrast, sexually active heterosexual women, including self-described ‘promiscuous’ women, who used condoms were just as depressed as those practicing total abstinence.”
Hmmm, I’m seeing an interesting correlation here. When did the big push for universal condom use start? That’s right, when the AIDS outbreak first started manifesting itself. Before then, contraceptive pills were being used for the prevention of pregnancy and with the advent of modern antibiotics, contracting a garden variety STD had become a nuisance at worst. But now there was a sexually transmitted disease that could KILL you and all the authorities and experts shouted to the high heavens that condoms were the best way to prevent it. Nobody wanted to die but everybody wanted to fuck so condom usage rates skyrocketed. If I remember correctly, all this happened in the early eighties and if you think back, that’s when the sexes started increasing the rate of their inexorable decline towards the dystopic sexual market we see today.
All because women aren’t getting enough cum dumped in their buckets.
None of this is accidental, I daresay it was planned. Someone in the elites figured out long ago that women and therefore couples were happier with the female of the two getting regular doses of her partners love juices. How best to sabotage this? Make sex something you could die from and encourage men to dump their loads into balloons. The thing that bothers me about this is the premise of heterosexual sex being dangerous when all the evidence points to the contrary. Sure, you can contract something inconvenient like the herpe, but that and other STD’s generally won’t kill you.
So you women out there, want to feel better and less depressed? Dump the condoms, have lots of unprotected sex with your man and if you don’t want to get pregnant, go on the pill. Start giving your man regular blowjobs and swallow dammit. Don’t have a man? Follow the previous advice and you quickly will.
Your mental health will thank me.
“Proverbs often contradict one another, as any reader soon discovers. The sagacity that advises us to look before we leap promptly warns us that if we hesitate we are lost; that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but out of sight, out of mind.” Leo Rosten
That quote pretty much sums up my life. It explains why every relationship I’ve ever experienced, from my parents, to fiance’s, to my ex-wife and every other relationship I’ve ever had has gone down the crapper. Well, with the exception of my kids, they still love their father even though I don’t see them much these days considering they’ve got their teenage concerns to think about.
The reason why? I don’t stick around long.
I’ve always had the travel bug and if I could get someone else to pay for it and get paid in the process, hell, I was there. My first love lost me to the army, my second love lost me to an electronics firm in Atlanta, my third love, the girl I married lost me to extended job trips all over the country and my last girl lost me to traveling all over the world for almost four years.
But the thing about it is, they didn’t lose me. I always came home. They abandoned me.
Didn’t matter if the bills were paid. Didn’t matter if they had enough money to support the lifestyles they were used to. Didn’t matter if I called everyday or that I answered the phone when they called. Didn’t matter if something went wrong at the house, I knew who to call to fix it and they didn’t have to worry about it.
Want to know the real reason they abandoned me? My dick wasn’t in the house.
Now that might seem harsh, but listen to me for a second. Here’s one rule of life that will serve you well and it’s a hard lesson for me but after nearly forty years of seeing it in action, it’s something you need to sear into your brain. This is it:
Once a woman starts menstruating, she won’t go for long without a dick in her.
This is the dirty little secret that the medical, psychological and sociology fields won’t tell you. If a woman doesn’t have a hard dick around giving her what she needs, she is going to find that only thing that she needs to make her life complete. And that’s a hard dick. That’s the only thing she cares about and it doesn’t matter what size it is, if she orgasms, she has to have that and it is the only thing she has any care for.
I know what you are all thinking, “Mitch, how can you say that with any conscious logic?”
Well, I’ve been there. I have so many stories about fucking girlfriends of my friends, I have so many stories about my friends fucking my girlfriends when I was traveling but there was one incident when I lived in Atlanta when I was a Foreman for a high-rise company that was building a 17 story parking garage. The project manager invited me over for dinner with him, his wife and his 25 year old daughter that had just separated from her husband of five years for only a week. She was obviously interested, but I asked her a question. “Are you over him?” I was obviously naive being only 24 years old but her answer stuck with me. “I can’t wait to get into the arms of another man, and that looks like it’s going to be you.” Well it was.
To put it bluntly, the bitches can’t go without dick. And given their proclivities, they won’t. If they don’t have a hard dick in the house, they’ll find one somewhere. And plastic is only a stopgap, they need the real thing and they won’t stop until they get it.
My recommendation is that you don’t leave for more than a week. Personally, from my experience, that’s about as long as they can go without some flesh injection. Trust me on this, I’ve been studying this subject for almost twenty years. And you Red Pill girls, you know I’m right, I know you better than you know yourselves.
It only takes a few days of absence for your woman to stray. Six at the most in my opinion. But that is only for women worth fucking. Now we see the roots of feminism.
Imagine if you are a woman who needs dick at the level that most women need it but can’t get it? That enrages them, they need it as bad as their sisters but can’t get it.
Pisses them off. Imagine needing something that is vital for your survival, you don’t realize what it is but you still can see other women around you getting it?
They don’t have a regular dick in them. Personally, I’m not going to volunteer to help them out, I might be a bit older but I still have standards.
Hopefully you learn this lesson. Took me many years to.
You’re welcome again.
If you have good friends and good game.
After a week of Memorial Day debauchery with the good Dr. Illusion and the Mistress, I haven’t gone out much since then. When I talked with Danny on Thursday and he said he was going to go to his places he had locked down on Friday, I couldn’t resist.
Dude has definitely got these places locked down.
I got to his place around dark which in this part of the country is around 9:00 p.m. and we did a little bit of pregame then we hopped in my Mustang and headed out. We headed to his bar of choice and pretty much it was a bunch of introductions, talking to the locals and a couple of beers. That was the start of the hilarity, then it was time to go to his strip club of choice.
I’m not going to name it, but it definitely has the vibe I like. Smallish but with a couple of girls that are worth messing with. Luckily for us, a couple of the girls that like Danny were there at the same time. Plus they were the best looking girls in the place. We walk in around 10:30, the bouncer at the door ushers us through, Danny introduces me to the bartenders as his uncle, we order beers and the fun is on. Danny has his own table at the place and we sit there with only two barstools. Immediately the girls that aren’t worth talking to surround us. Danny sees one of his girls and her friend and they come over to our table. He introduces me as his uncle and then we go into complete “Does he look like me game”. Honestly I have to write more about that, because the Dr. and I did that same thing when we were in Florabama. Who needs a wingman when he has an Uncle who’s cool as hell?
We were there for about five minutes when Danny asked the girls, “Are you shaved tonight, it’s Friday?” Let’s just say that they proved that they had groomed themselves before their shift at the club.
Just a little bit of description of these girls. The one that Danny has on lock is a very good looking hafa. Her friend was a good looking brunette tatted up a little bit but not too much. Both probably in their late twenties from what I could see. Danny had his girl’s bikini bottom down near her hipbones, and I started a conversation about the brunettes tattoos. I had my right leg propped up and I have a stylized triskellion tattoo on my right calf.
She said that it was a cool tattoo but what was it? I told her that it was a triskellion. She asked, “What does that mean?” and then the entire evening changed. I pulled up my sleeve on my right arm and showed my tribal triskellion tattoo and told her, “You don’t mark yourself like this if you’re not a practitioner of the dark art of BDSM.”
All of the sudden, she’s all over me. I keep my fingernails long for just this reason and I told her, “Stand up straight in front of me.” She did and I left marks from her neck to her ass scratching her back and then grabbed her hair and pulled her into my lap. Then the DJ called her up to the stage. By this time Danny’s laughing his ass off and the girl he’s with is looking at me like I have three eyes and is all over Danny because she can figure out if I’m his Uncle he’s got a good bloodline.
I give it a couple of minutes, Danny is in for sure and the other girls are looking at us like “What the fuck, we already know Danny”. He’s still laughing his ass off and personally I did too.
So I go up to the stage where the brunette is dancing. Every guy who has ever gone up to a stripper stage knows the drill. She’ll stick her ass in your face for a dollar bill. She tried this and I leaned over the stage and said, “Lean back into me.” She did.
I grabbed her by the neck, pulled her into my chest and tightened my grip. The only thing I said was, “This is what you wanted.”
All she said was, “Yes”.
I’ll see her again.
And other than our beers, we didn’t spend a dime.
I’ve been paying some attention to the Edward Snowden apparent leaks of material from the NSA about supposedly them collecting and analyzing all of our online data. Personally, I know this info has been out there for years and the only reason it’s being placed as stories in the mainstream media is as a psyop to distract the sheeple from something much bigger. Look, nothing gets into publications like the Guardian in the U.K. or the Washington Post here in the U.S. without expressed permission from the elites that control them, we all know this, the evidence has proven that conclusion multiple times. What really gets me in this case is the amateurishness of the reporting and the slides that both media outlets put out there. Check out this slide from two different media organizations supposedly working with a single source:
Now you would figure that if you had a single source and he was providing the only copies of his data, the powerpoint slides would match wouldn’t you? These are obviously so different that there’s no way that they could have come from a single source, They were provided. Most people won’t check the differences between the info provided to the Guardian or the Washington Post because most people haven’t even heard of the Guardian even though they are trying to make headway into the U.S. online news market. Here’s another interesting slide I found:
This should be nothing new to any of you, Keoni has been writing about this for years. So why now is the MSM who is bought and paid for by the elites finally paying attention to this story?
Here might be a couple of reasons:
Don’t you see, if they tell what their plans are it’s all good. Even if they take your basic right to freedom away. They wouldn’t use this info for nefarious purposes would they?
And so, Snowden is just a part of the long line of psyops operatives just like Julian Assange, part of the false flags like 9/11, Aurora, Newtown and the Boston bombers. They tell everyone what they plan and everybody seems surprised when it happens. Edward Bernays would be proud to see how his life’s work has turned out.
All of this is a distraction. From the IRS targeting conservative groups and spending fifty million on posh conferences to the NSA collecting every electronic communication to Snowden to Assange and WiliLeaks and pretty much everything else that the government is being reported on, it’s all a sham to distract the people on what’s really going on. I can see it coming and if you can’t, October is going to be a really interesting month for you.
I’ll expand on this Monday.
(Mitch’s note: I wrote this back in early January and since this site has grown exponentially since then, I figure that most people won’t go that far back through the archives to read it. I wouldn’t considering I’ve written nearly 150 posts since then. Plus, this article was personal to me, as someone raised in the sixties and seventies, it was extremely difficult to come to these conclusions. Plus, this is what my life looks like right now with a notable few exceptions Shit, it’s still hard, and I’ve been at this awhile. For all you new guys and girls to this site and the Red Pill, this is what you have to look forward to.)
“Great spirits have always found violent opposition from mediocrities. The latter cannot understand it when a man does not thoughtlessly submit to hereditary prejudices but honestly and courageously uses his intelligence.” Albert Einstein
There’s a common misconception in our little corner of the webz. That exposing yourself to the truth, essentially going down the rabbit hole, is going to make your life better. Nothing could be further from the truth. Now I’ll admit that being exposed to the truth is going to make you better with women but you’ll never trust one again, will probably make you more successful in your career but will make you want to never work again and probably make navigating this piece of crap society we all live in easier but there is a tradeoff that most don’t think about and that’s this:
You are going to become isolated. Most notably socially but also with your thoughts, opinions and your ability to finally see what surrounds you in this crumbling society.
Taking the Red Pill has consequences beyond what anyone can anticipate when they start the journey for truth. Personally, it was something I had to do when I first encountered this section of the webz. Do I regret any of it? Not at all but I’ll admit it has made my life a hell of a lot harder than it would have if I had stayed in my blissful little bubble of working for the corporations, raising what I supposed would be a happy family, paying my taxes like a good little drone and believing the drivel that I was being fed on a regular basis. The thing is once you swallow the Red Pill, you can never go back.
But what happens is you become one of the very few who know how far down the rabbit hole goes. And as such, everything around you changes. Your interactions with your family and friends, the way you consume media and pretty much everything else that has to do with any social interaction.
And once you learn, everyone around you quickly becomes tiresome. People that you might have had a connection with after a while get to the point where you can’t stand the drivel pouring out of their mouths. And so you have to get away from all of that shit on a regular basis or you’ll go insane. Solitude becomes something to be desired rather than shunned. You’d rather withdraw than interact. Because every time you try to help them understand, you’re looked upon as a freak, someone who’s checked out of the narrative that bathes everyone every minute of the day they’re not asleep. Tin foil hats anyone? Everyone around you is going to think that you wear one.
You quickly find out that everyone that surrounds you is mediocre. But the worst thing to find out is they revel in their mediocrity.How many people that surround you even know what the word misandry means? No one that I know. How many people that surround you know that no matter who had been elected back in November, nothing would change? No one that I know. How many people do you know that march off to their soul-crushing jobs every day not realizing that they are just cogs in the machine that wants to make them in their inestimable riches richer? Pretty much everyone I know. How many of the people you know spend their off time parked in front of the TV watching football, basketball and reality shows? Pretty much everyone I know (Moonshiners on Discovery excepted, that’s a show where you can learn a valuable life skill).
Open your mouth one time with the truth around these people and you’ll find yourself in no time persona non grata. No one in polite company wants to hear it, try it sometime and you’ll see their eyes glaze over and then the attacks come. It’s even worse if it’s family members, family doesn’t have the social barriers that a group of friends might have.
They’re programmed. And nothing you can say will reach them. They’re gone. Then they attack you.
I’ve figured off the top of my head that anyone who might read this blog in this little corner of the webz is pretty damned intelligent among the population that hasn’t been recruited into the elites already. That’s not enough individuals yet. I read a study that purports that once an idea reaches a critical mass of ten percent of the population it goes viral among that population. Personally, I don’t know if that’s possible anymore given the programming that has been foisted on this population through the government schools and the media. I’m hoping that there are enough of us out here who have the courage to try to get the truth out there regardless of the consequences of being isolated by the herd of sheeple that the elites have created over the past hundred or more years. I’ll have to give you this, being isolated for what I think isn’t enjoyable, but I have to do this.
Isolation is a small price to pay for a better future.
If that’s even possible anymore.
Or any man who’s been in a long term relationship. Post courtesy of Red Pill Wifey. My comments will be in bold.
“All was well & happy in Bowmanville. How he references his family. I like it.
However, something happened. Something difficult to write about and process, and I’m posting here in the hopes that all the Captains and First Officers that read this find some value in my story.
I’ve been in Phase 3 (Mitch’s note: this guy is a subscriber to Athol Kay’s Married Man Sex Life forum which advice works as well as it can for the times we live in today) a few months. My wife is beautiful, sexy, kind, considerate, and a great mother. But I fucked up. I mis-timed my approach and started a bit of a firestorm. See, she was PMSing pretty bad, but we were going away to a family event for the weekend and I wanted to get me some lovin’ before we went. I knew it would be a dry spell on the weekend and thought my pure awesomeness would let me push through the clear hard nos that I was hearing from her.
She flipped out (understandably). Said some pretty harsh things about the changes in me, how she doesn’t like having sex all the time, even threw in some comments about “duty” sex not being so stellar. I held frame, kept my cool, showed outcome independence and took it like a man. She asked for me to cool it for a few days so I said “fine.” Which he should have.
But something shifted down deep inside. Something that frankly scared the living shit out of me. In front of me, I no longer saw my beautiful sexy wife that was in killer shape despite 3 kids and pushing 40. I saw the wrinkles, I saw the sagginess, I saw the lumps and bumps. I saw an aging, crazy, bitch of a woman. And I was… just not into her any more.
This happens to any man who is married or in an LTR over a few years. The problem is most men are too scared to act upon this feeling. If more men acted on this feeling, things would rapidly change.
So I killed the power to the DaveBowman Love Express. Like, right off. Mr Spock cold. And just didn’t give a fuck. For the first few hours she was cool with that. By the next morning she was telling me to give it a rest. By the next night (at her family’s place) she was threatening to withdraw sex if I didn’t warm it up. I just didn’t fucking care. Like, at all. I alpha’d up. Like, way the fuck up. I was the man, I was fucking awesome. The next morning, she’s a little weepy… I’m not proud to say it didn’t bother me in the slightest. We get ready to go to a family event, she puts on a killer dress, makes a show of it for me, I don’t care. Get the kids ready and off we go. We arrive, and I’m king shit of the universe. Tons of IOIs, even from some of her close family in front of me. It’s not like anything’s gonna happen, but I feed off the energy and it drives me, shooting through me, bolstering my pure awesomeness.
Especially as we men get older, we realize that don’t have to put up with the shit anymore. You start thinking to yourself, “Why am I doing this?”
After a while, I tire of it, head outside, light up a stogie. The wife hates ‘em, and it pretty much guarantees she won’t come near me. But I don’t care. As I walk around, puffing my cigar, I ponder my situation.
If your wife or LTR hates something you’re doing that she has no control over, you’re probably doing something right.
Thinking about my wife… I’ve been there, done that. I’ve had sex with her probably thousands of times. In crazy ways, in boring ways, in nearly every way two people can have each other. I’ve been there, done that. It’s conquered territory. And she’s not getting any younger. I think about her flaws, I think about her bitchiness, I think about what a pain the ass she is to have around. How much she cramps my style, and how much I’m just not into her any more.
This is something that most men will never think or ask themselves that question. But, it is the most important question that you will ever ask yourself.
I think about all the IOIs I’ve been getting. Some from hot women 10 years younger than her. New, fresh, tight, firm, hotness. Hmm… What exactly were my options here? I saw three futures uncurl in front of me, three possibilities to explore. And I understood myself, I understood the plight of my fellow husbands, and I understood the plight of the unhappy wives.
Wives make themselves unhappy. Husbands just give up after awhile. They realize very early there’s nothing they can do and withdraw.
Option 1: Just give up. I mean, this is the easiest path, right? The path of least resistance. Why work my fucking bag off being hot ‘n ripped and putting so much time and energy into my marriage to an aging, increasingly dumpy wife? Why bother? Why not get a gut, ignore her, and sit my ass down on the couch and watch some more re-runs of mythbusters? Why the fuck not? Isn’t this what like 99% of husbands end up doing? And isn’t this why? I mean, if I’m not into my wife, I’m not going to give a shit if she’s into me. I’m just going to put my time in, try to stay distracted, and just coast through my miserable life. I finally understood why guys do this. Not just because they’re lazy slobs, not just because of low T, but maybe, just maybe, they’re just not into their fat, aging, bitchy wives any more. So fuck it, why bother?
This is the option that most men take which is a shame. But the way the laws are written, there’s not much choice for most. And I know where he comes from, this describes my only marriage to a “T”.
Option 2: Fuck around. Maybe leave. I mean, there’s probably 5 women I know I could score with within days if I wanted. And some of them are pretty fucking hot. At least they would provide the attraction of “the undiscovered country”. I’ve never been tempted to cheat, really. Even in my sexless first marriage. I’ve just never been that guy. But… I could. I really could. And if it was fun enough, maybe I would just leave and be single, living out the last vestiges of my youth banging the shit out of the hottest chicks that would have me. I mean, I have all my hair, I’m in better shape day by day, I make tons of $, even after a divorce I’d be able to wine and dine with the best of them. Why not? What else is there to life, really, at the end of the day than just living in the moment and getting whatever joy I could out of this life?
If you’ve got the bucks, get out. That’s what I did.
Option 3: Try to make it work. But why bother? Why have just one woman, one that spends a quarter of her life being half bat-shit crazy and can’t help it? One that I’ve already had thousands of times and I’d be consigning to have thousands of times more… and no-one else? In a relationship that I work so fucking hard to keep going and keep hot… but I’m essentially alone in?
“In a relationship that I work so fucking hard to keep going and keep hot… but I’m essentially alone in?” And here we see what is the eventuality of every relationship between men and women in the Western world. Even if you can keep your woman in a loving relationship, a man is still essentially alone, expected to keep it going even when it’s not in his own best interest. Personally given his own self-declared financial stability, I’d have walked.
I went back in, undecided. Life weighing heavy on my mind. Declared it was time to go, packed the kids up, and we left. She was very quiet on the way back to crash at her family’s place. She tried to start something up after we got the kids down and we were alone in the place, but then others showed up so she shut it down. I didn’t care. Rolled over, thoughts rolling around in my mind. I think she might have been crying a little by this point… she tried threatening, pleading, anything… to go back to “the old me”. The one that she said she hated the other day. The one that sexted her all the time, had my hands all over her all the time, fucked her all the time. I said nothing, pretended to be asleep. Felt that I should be feeling something… like I should be feeling like I’m being an asshole or something… just didn’t feel a thing. Felt like a stone.
The next day we headed for home. Chatted a bit in the car. We bought some magazines for the trip. She pointed some women out in the magazines and asked me if I thought they were hot, like she often does to test me. Instead of coming up with reasons why they weren’t to make her feel better, I was honest with her. Like real fucking heartbreaking honest. “Man, I love those tits.” “Look at the ass on her.” etc. She didn’t get mad. She didn’t freak. She was honest with me back. About being wrong the other night, about taking it too far. About how the PMS just takes ahold of her and she needs some time off during those times. How I pushed it too far. About how she really likes the new me, and how she gets scared sometimes that it will stop so she tests it. She actually admitted that she shit tests me.
A woman who will shit test you after supposedly having three of your kids is not a woman worth having in my opinion. But it gets worse…
And to please come back to her. And always be honest with her.
I mulled this over while we got home, put the kids to bed. She asked me to have a shower with her. I felt kinda greasy from being in the car for so long, so I said “sure.”
She started things up in the shower. Hardcore. She started doing things to me that we have barely ever done before. Things that she said she never wanted to do. She did, happily, eagerly, lustfully. Told me things like “when I get like that don’t talk to me, just take me upstairs and rip my panties off and fuck me. Fuck me like a man. I promise no matter what I say I will love it.” Etc.
I hate to say it, but this sounds like a woman who knows her meal ticket is getting ready to bail and will do anything to keep him around. Unfortunately this poor sucker fell for it.
It all came rushing back. All of it, flowing over me like a tidal wave of emotion, lust, and joy. In front of me wasn’t a dumpy aging wife. In front of me was a goddess, radiant, erotic, and shining with energy.
That paragraph made me throw up in my mouth. Yes dude, she’s a dumpy aging wife. She just licked your asshole in the shower to keep you around because she knows that without you she’s going to have a household of kids to take care of herself with the money that she can extract from you but without the Daddy influence. Too bad he didn’t see it.
I got my wife back that night, and I made my choice.”
You should have walked. If you have the financial wherewithal, always walk. I have.
Now, there’s a bunch of Red Pill girls all atwitter about this post. It seems to reinforce their assumptions that with the right amount of supposed female Red Pill behavior they can keep their men.
I hate to be the one to say it first but here’s the real deal:
We are going to get tired of you sooner rather than later and if you have a Red Pill man, it’s going to be sooner. We know that you are bat-shit crazy no matter how you act when you first meet us. We know it’s only going to be a matter of time before you make our lives miserable. You’ve got five good years if you’re lucky no matter how young you are or how good you look. And most of you aren’t going to be that lucky given the widespread dissemination of Red Pill wisdom the way it’s quickly becoming mainstream.
And there’s not a damned thing you can do about it given female nature.
Because we’ve figured you out. Better get used to beta’s, because that’s soon going to be your only option.
You get what you deserve.
Girl’s got a nail in her head but she still blames the man in her life for the pain.
I’d laugh it weren’t so true.
H/T to Radical Suburbanite for the video.
Most people will never take a chance on meeting new people just from an email, a phone call or any other circumstance that takes them out of their comfort zone. I’m not that type of person, I’ll travel anywhere to meet people that I think I have a connection with even though I might be a bit apprehensive as how the end result might manifest itself. I always have an escape plan figured out, but luckily for me, I haven’t had to utilize any of them, the large majority of people I’ve met have been fun as hell.
And that’s how it worked when I met the good Dr. Illusion and the Mistress on Memorial day and spent the entire week with them.
We met at Gulf Shores, Alabama around 3:30 p.m. on Monday, Memorial day and immediately between the three of us, we felt an affinity for each other that doesn’t happen often. You know when you meet someone for the first time if you are going to have fun partying and interacting with the people that are around you yes? That’s what it felt like and I wasn’t disappointed as the first evening unfolded. And the connections we made over that week are some of the most valuable I’ve ever had the privilege to enjoy.
It’s the stories of that week that are the best. I’m not going to write too much about them but here’s a few snippets:
The Dr. doing triple flips on the kiddy bungies after eating nearly a pound of crab and shrimp and nearly projectile vomiting. With the Mistress videoing the entire thing and us laughing our asses off.
Listening to the worst cover band in the world on Monday night to the point that I had to heal Mistresses headache and the Dr. put her to bed which afterwards we talked about history and philosophy until the early hours of the morning.
Spending the next day on the beach, getting sunburned, going back to the Hangout for dinner and drinks and being inundated by teenage girls doing nothing but taking pics of themselves on their cells for hours on end. The local Payless must have had a special on stripper wedges because almost every teenage girl there was wearing the same wedge. Hilarity ensued. After we got back to the hotel, we stayed up until way past daylight talking about things that most people would have a hard time understanding. This was Tuesday night and I was scheduled to leave Thursday morning, but we were having so much fun I extended my stay until Friday when they were scheduled to return home.
We got up pretty early on Wednesday and we wandered around Gulf Shores. They had an errand to run and that’s when I wrote the post with me coming out. They were the last two that I’d asked about it and considering it was time, I wrote the post telling everyone who I really am.
Wednesday night was the bomb. We intended to go to a local bar just to shoot some pool but it got way outside what we intended. If you look at the pic at the top of this page you’ll see that it’s a bar called Florabama. The reason it has this name is because it sits on the Florida and Alabama line. What’s so cool about it is that it is a rustic place and all over the wooden walls are tags in magic marker from people who have been there over the years. Of course, nobody who works there has a magic marker. But, if you play your cards right, you can either game or bribe yourself into getting one. It turned out that in the end, I was the only man in the venue with a full sized permanent marker which made me the most popular guy in the place. I’m not going to get into how that night went, but it was fun as hell.
As an aside, this post was intended to let you guys know that it’s well worth meeting people that you interact with on this corner of the sphere. Most won’t but my experiences are well worth the effort that I’ve put into it.
You might want to try it.
I just got off the beach with Dr. Illusion and the Mistress and have a couple of hours to kill before we continue with our revels so I’ve decided to make this announcement a couple of days earlier than I planned.
From now on, no more anonymity. The stakes are too high.
Three years ago, when I first started blogging, anonymity was a matter of course for guys like us in this corner of the sphere. But there has been a shift lately and I think it’s a positive development.
No one gives a shit anymore if what they write in this corner of the web is found by anyone anymore including employers, HR cunts or friends and family. Me neither. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty much hated by most people I know already except for the good friends I’ve found on the Manosphere, so I said fuck it, if you’re going to be hated at least be honest about who you are and what you look like.
Yep, that ugly bloke in the pic at the top of the page is me. Hopefully I didn’t break your computer monitor.
I’ve been asked multiple times where I got the idea for the pseudonym Bill Powell. Any of you who grew up when I did should know that William Powell wrote the Anarchist’s Cookbook and watching old movies with my parents made me a fan of William Powell who was an Oscar winning actor. Plus that avatar pic with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth sealed my opinion that would be a good pseudonym for what I was trying to accomplish. But he’s served his purpose and now it’s time to move on.
If you’re wondering what the C. M. stands for, it’s Charles Mitchell. The reason I chose C. M. Sturges is because that’s the name that I’ve published professional periodical, magazine and newspaper articles under. That’s my professional name and it’s served me well.
I’m not changing the email address and the twitter address that are connected to this site, I have a bit of nostalgia for old Bill and I’m going to keep those last vestiges of my pseudonymous identity for old times sake. But the name has changed and you should already be seeing the change on those sites.
Actually now that I’m doing this, I find it a bit liberating. No more am I going to pull any punches with my writing that I felt I had to do when writing under a pseudonym.
It’s going to be interesting.
(Update: I forgot to write that everyone I know calls me Mitch)