Monday, August 21, 2017

8-21-17 Solar Eclipse guidance...

The Daily Messenger: 8-21-17 Solar Eclipse guidance...: 15 For this people's heart is waxed gross, and [their] ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed; lest at ...

Friday, August 11, 2017

Game of Thrones is the Ultimate Feminist Propaganda: Nothing but Beta Males and Alpha Women

Although Game Of Thrones, at first glance, appears to be about war, blood, loyalty, family, and betrayal, a closer look will reveal that the entire cast is filled with alpha women tolerating weak, emasculated, orbiting, deformed, insane, beta males.
The women all have a vision to rule the Seven Kingdoms from the Iron Throne. The men are pathetic, with few exceptions. This complete role reversal from medieval-like times actually represented, when women gathered, cooked, and raised children while the men hunted and ruled, perpetuates the current trend of grrrl power and men-hatred that has metastasized throughout our entertainment industry.

The women

Game of Thrones is the Ultimate Feminist Propaganda: Nothing but Beta Males and Alpha Women
A collection of viscous, nasty sluts
Cersei:  Queen of the Iron Throne, for now. Rules her brother, who should be king. She joyfully kills all who cross her, and any innocents who may get in the way.
Daenerys: Queen of the Dragons and a bunch of other titles. She has some moral qualities like freeing slaves, and is the quintessential “crazy cat lady” surrounded by her loyal, deadly pets dragons.
Olenna Tyrell: The true power behind the House Tyrell (while alive). Even at 80-some years old, she was far tougher than almost any man on this show.
Yara Greyjoy: Self-proclaimed commander of the 14 seas, usurping her brother and uncle. Gets more women than both combined.
Brienne: A six-and-a-half-foot tall mammoth woman who is loyal to a fault and tougher than almost any man on the show. She also kills men with ease.
Lyanna Mormont: A 10-year-old girl who makes grown men cower with fear with her ferocious onslaught of orders, common sense, loyalty, and honor. Any man would be proud to be half as tough as she.
Arya Stark: The second youngest alpha on the show and the toughest. On a mission to kill everyone who has harmed her or her family, including Cersei, who is probably the evilest person on the show.
Sansa Stark: Queen of the North. A natural leader. Grown men, including her older brother Jon Stark, listen to her advice and follow her commands.

Now the “men”

Samwell Tarly: The ultimate beta.  He took in a Wildling, an unforgivable act to his family and his people, and is raising her son, who he allowed to be named after himself. This caused him to be excommunicated and disinherited by his father, a true alpha, who is not part of the show. Also, there is a fair chance that Samwell has impregnated the Wildling. We shall see.
Tyrion Lannister: The smartest person on the show, but he’s a midget. There is nothing wrong with being a midget. However, this is medieval times, and midgets are called “imps,” and they are not respected. Tyrion has had to talk his way out of death many times, and even his family tried to kill him.
Jamie Lannister: Made babies with his sister, who rules him as his queen. Doesn’t seem to have any interest in other women, despite being dashingly handsome. Also, only has one hand.
Theon Greyjoy: Tortured and neutered by Ramsay, Theon has gladly allowed his sister to rule him. During battle, he jumped ship instead of trying to save his sister.
Jorah Mormont: The ultimate orbiter. Banished by Daenerys so many times that she finally gave up and allowed him to return. A better example for the friend zone has never been found.
The Hound: A big bad-ass, true. But, he’s deformed, afraid of campfires, and was almost killed by a little girl.
The Mountain: One of the fiercest men in the kingdom. But he’s the queen’s slave.
Varys: Neutered and loyal only to himself. And a fag. Game of Thrones almost refuses to allow any man to be what that society would consider “normal”.
Littlefinger: Sold Sansa, a teenager, to Ramsay. Then tried to have sex with her. Some might call this an alpha move, but he sold a virgin to a twisted psycho and then tried to get sloppy seconds from her afterwards, despite their 20-plus year age difference. Pathetic.
Ramsay: Dead now, but a twisted, evil torturer who loved to watch people burn, get skinned, and get eaten alive by his dogs. Probably the most hated character on the show, rivaling only Joffrey.
The list isn’t complete, but I’ve made my point: under the guise of warring families ruling for control of the known world, the show is actually the ultimate example of bossy women controlling pathetic men. War, blood, battles, and breasts are thrown in as a distraction to keep the men who are watching distracted from the fact that their very essence of manhood is being subliminally evaporated by a society that celebrates beta males supplicating to frigid females.
Game of Thrones (GOT) isn’t the only show where you’ll find this current trend of go-girl writing. Or of Athena-like women displaying amazing powers. Atomic Blonde, Wonder Woman and Kidnap are recent examples of attempts by the industry to capitalize on the trend. If you want to see weak men, you only need to head over to Silicon Valley and take your pick. Big Bang Theory is beta male paradise.
Big Bang Theory is beta male paradise.
Or, watch Chris Pratt’s character, in Passengers, wake up Jennifer Lawrence (who has higher-level access to everything, of course) ninety years early because he’s lonely. Stop fast-forwarding for a minute, watch almost any commercial featuring a married couple, and you’ll quickly see a stupid man being berated by a bossy woman.
Jews are promoting weak men literally everywhere in entertainment. This misandry has become our new zeitgeist, and it’s not getting better. We need more male characters with qualities like Jon Snow from GOT, who risked his life refusing to bend a knee to Daenerys, and John Wick, who calmly killed the enemy while dressed to the nines.
Classic Alpha Male
I long for the days when men like Eastwood, Stallone, and Schwarzenegger ruled the screen. Or Norris, Van Damme, and Statham. These men were pure alphas who took no shit from any man or woman, and, more importantly, lived in a society where that was accepted.
Unfortunately, today we live in a society that is in its heyday celebrating the beta male.
For now.

 http://dailywesterner.com/news/2017-08-11/game-of-thrones-is-the-ultimate-feminist-propaganda-nothing-but-beta-males-and-alpha-women/

Meet The CUNDT: Converged, Urban, Narcissistic, Delusional Tubbo

You are about to enter another dimension of the sexual market. A dimension not only of unsightly fat and scolding schoolmarmery, but of repulsive loudmouthed bitterbitches. A journey into a worthless land of self-entitled fat Hillary-loving bitches. Next stop, the Would Not Bang Zone!
Via AutoAdmit, a gem quality thread has coalesced around the story of a fat chick in DC — Jesse Peterson — who was the featured coastal shitlibopolis representative of her swelling species in a Bezos Post Date Lab social experiment designed to prove the pointlessness of pursuing the post-femininity American cow. A couple of AAers put it best,
Date: August 3rd, 2017 9:04 AM
Author: Ozzie Canseco
its incredible how women are all converging to this one horrible personality.
***
Date: August 3rd, 2017 9:06 AM
Author: LTDanCaffey
Titcr.
It’s like all single shrews in major metros are morphing into some hybrid of Sarah Jessica Parker in SitC and the shrew from Eat, Pray, Fuck with some Beyoncé girl power mixed in.
A little background on Jesse, emeritus rider of the cock carousel, courtesy of her About page at her dating blog (aka the place she collates the wretchedness of her personality and will come to regret when she’s 40, unmarried, and sleeping with a small army of cats nestled in her gut folds):
Hey betches,
Welcome to Tinder District! I’m so glad you’re here, even though you may not be able to tell through my chronic RBF.
Afeminine? Check.
My name is J. I’m 23 years old, live in Washington, DC, and by day I do management consulting.
Anti-natalist careercunt? Check.
By night (and weekend), however, I’m a serial dater.
Slut, or pretensions to sluttery? Check.
Since I started this blog in July 2015 (when it was ClarendonTinderDiaries.wordpress.com; really rolls of the tongue, right?),
Grandiose self-conception as a dazzling prose stylist belied by horribly dull writing? Check.
I have been on over 100 first dates.
Unloveable? Check.
Two have turned into relationships (thank God those went nowhere),
Allergic to accountability for her decisions? Check.
many were good, several turned into second and even third dates – but that’s not why I’m here. The thing that keeps me coming back is the bad dates – the ones that turn into a story for me to tell my close friends, future grandchildren, and the entire Internet.
Attention whore? Check.
Oh, and the free drinks and meals. Those also keep me coming back.
Low sexual market value chick unable to date anyone but supplicating beta males who eagerly foot her bill for a chance to pork her oinky trough? Check.
So, welcome, readers! I hope you get a laugh, a nugget of useful life advice, or something new to read while at work contemplating quitting your shitty job.
XOXO,
J
And a recent photo of Jesse, for context in which to place her empty try-hard braggadocio:

She’s a 5 without the insulating layer of blubber, a 2 with it.
Sadly, Jesse is not an outlier. The shitlib cities are filled with CUNDTs like herself: totally converged into the technofemcuntyassqueen man-hating spiteborg, committed to spending their prime nubility years hunting elusive alpha males in the urban junglelove, narcissistic to a degree that would have shocked Narcissus, delusional about their sexual and romantic appeal, and more often than not carrying an extra five or fifty pounds.
Is it any wonder American men have stopped “manning up” and taken nuptial (read: financial) responsibility for these ingrate shoggoths? Women, if you struggle to find a man worthy of your curated and well-marbled self-image, look in the mirror and read the reactions of the world outside your dating blog to your crass behavior and shitty personality. 100 dates in one year? That’s not a banner to wave proudly; it’s a red flag that your goods are rotten.
How obnoxious is this bitch? From her Instawhore:
In her words, she had an awful date and hated the man with whom she was paired, yet she still wanted to exploit his graciousness by copping an “appeal deal” with him to rate each other equivalently in the Bezos Post-Op Date Lab story, so that she could continue to look good to her blog audience of aspiring spinsters. Thankfully, our intrepid beta male found an ounce of scrotal juice still circulating in his manhood and rated her lower than the entitled blobster demanded to be rated.
Management consultant Jesse Peterson, 23, describes herself as “just about the friendliest and most outgoing person there is.”
So friendly she hastily pens post-date snarkbait shitting all over the men who buy her drinks.
She also loves working out, bottomless brunch and a slightly dark sense of humor.
Working out => is 40 pounds overweight
Bottomless brunch => boundless bottom
Dark sense of humor => confuses hackneyed sarcasm for humor
I was much more nervous before this date than any Bumble or Tinder date. I’ve been on dates with a few Dans, and all of them were weird.
The fault lies not with the Dans.
We talked about favorite foods — I write a cooking and baking blog.
Avoid unmarried women who are a little too into cooking. That goes double-chinned for women into blogging about cooking.
And I write a dating blog.
If a chick admitted this to me on a first date, I would walk out immediately, no reason given. At the very least, a chick who feels comfortable telling me this doesn’t respect my refined taste in women and unapologetically high standards.
I’m just interested in exploring people and opportunities and dating culture.
Every girl who has told me she’s into “exploring people” was really into exploring herself for the umpteenth time and receiving external validation for it from the people she claims to want to explore. And “opportunities” is just slutspeak for “cockas”.
Dan: I can’t date a vegetarian; I left hungry. I got home and I ordered a turkey leg.
Vegetarian girls are more often fat than thin. That should tell them something, but when the world revolves around them and mirrors are magical devices found only in Harry Potter books, then one could be forgiven for assuming these broads have an intrinsic ability to put 2 and 2 together. Or maybe their concept of vegetarian is “a plate full of greasy fries and a side of pizza”.
I’m not ready for the gawking to end yet. From another dating-is-hell-on-fatties post at her Unloved Fatty blog:
I didn’t particularly care about continuing to talk to Jack, and I also ignore literally all CMB notifications I receive, so I did nothing.
The attention whore loves accumulating dating apps, so she can proudly claim she ignores them all. It would not suffice to simply not have the dating app on the iPhag. She must have it and not have it, grasshopper.
Jack, however, reached out.
“Men want me, they really want me!”
Jack – Want to get margaritas soon?
J – Sure!
So, I sent him my phone number – because anyone who wants to buy me a margarita is a friend of mine.
From its inception, CH has advised men to avoid buying drinks for women. To this day, the advice retains its merit.
It was two full days before I got a message from Jack, but he made up for his tardiness with sweeping romantic apology.
Jack – Hey, this is Jack from that bagel app
Ahh, pure poetry.
Got her attention. (Keep it short and sweet, gentlemen. The ladies love a self-possessed shitlord.)
FYI her blog is filled with those retarded pop culture gifs that women love. They acquire the habit from their gay besties.
We continued talking for a while, including a brief stint in which my friend took over my phone and sent him a long message about the superfood benefits of kale (#bless kale), when our conversation turned to the events we had planned for the weekend.

From the second I saw the ‘Yikes’ I knew something was amiss. But I was unsure what it was at first – did he frown upon the fact that I had not left all signs of neon and tutu back in college? Was he unnerved that I was not spending the weekend reading the latest political novel?
Like most straight men with a T level above 1, he’s disgusted by homosex and by the sassy platitude-spouting libchicks who latch onto the gay glorification gravy train in the hopes of tarting up their social media feeds with more colorful selfies.
All of that would have been better than his response. What do you mean you find it “off-putting”? You are aware you live in a country founded on the right to do all of those things, correct?
“Off-putting” doesn’t mean “deny the right of fag assembly”, you dumb bint.
I pressed on.
She persisted.

Ohhhhhhhh no. OH NO. I considered leaping off the nearest cliff to escape such ignorance.
She would’ve bounced back unscathed.
“inside a social construct decided by other people that doesn’t let you blah blah”…..typical poopytalk from your typical nasty woman. This is why fatties and other undesirable women glom onto social constructivist shitliberalism: the lies provide a handy rationale for explaining away, say, their lack of portion control. The CUNDT’s dating woes are never her fault; it’s always “men” or “douchebags” or “bigots” or “Trump supporters” or “society”.
She then feverishly texts Jack the Shitlord to “put him in his place”, and what she imagines as an epic BTFO of her antagonist just comes across like a butthurt fatty going well out of her way to make some stupid political point lost in the noise of her emotional incontinence.
HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE.
STOP IT RIGHT NOW.
YOU THINK PEOPLE ‘LIKE PLAYING THE VICTIM‘?
LITERALLY GET THE FUCK OUT.
Was Trayvon Martin ‘playing the victim’ when he was killed in an ethnic hate crime?
Surprise, a conformist GoodWhite plays the Saint Trayvon card! Newsflash, fatty, Trayvon pounced on Zimmerman the Hispanic hero and in the commission of his assault and battery received a load of lead in return. Tray Tray got his just desserts.
Were the 49 lives lost in the Orlando Pulse Nightclub massacre ‘playing the victim’ when their lives were unjustly ripped from them in a homophobic hate crime?
Funny, she forgot to mention that the Pulse gayclub killer was a Muslim.
Was I, or any other victim of sexual assault, PLAYING THE FUCKING VICTIM when we were raped, had our self-worth and self-confidence, not to mention ability to trust and, I don’t know, ability to sleep through the night without having a panic attack, STRIPPED FROM US BY A MAN WHO DID NOT KNOW HOW TO TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER?
Ten to one she was never raped.
One hundred to one if she was raped, it was by a black guy.
One thousand to one her conception of “rape” is really an ego-assuaging morning after regret rape rationalization for throwing herself at yet another garbage hour loser.
I was outraged. I would have killed him right then, if my insurance covered it.
The only thing you’re killing fatty is a plate of donuts.
Instead, I put him on blast in the betchiest way I know how
Shitlib women crave putting wrongthinkers “on blast”, and announcing their declared victory in war to whomever will listen. They’re like George Costanza thinking up a comeback zinger well after the moment has passed. It’s pure humiliation gotcha fantasy, a pageantry of the ego without substance, meant in the retelling to impress a very stupid and dull coterie of equally LSMV rejects more accustomed to getting ignored by high quality men than to putting those unattainable men in their places.
– by saying I felt sorry for him, using his own words against him, and turning the tables around.
I’m sure he was utterly destroyed by your lethal psy ops campaign.
He continued to not see the error of his ways and be the literal worst.
Resentful woman unable to convince man to cater to her feelz has literal meltdown in ASCII.
I’m out. I’m done! I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t handle humans or fuckboys or ignorance or Trump or anything that’s not at least 13% ABV or laced with THC.
This is the mewling of a woman who has experienced failure after failure in her search for a boyfriend. Naturally, she blames Trump.
So, fam, if you encounter an ignorant fuckboy along the lines of Jack, just remember that the best solution is to screenshot the conversation and put the entire thing in your Snapchat story and on the internet. Because, friends, it happens to the best of us.
So, fellow cundts, if you encounter a man who won’t tolerate your vapid lib bullshit and grating personality, just remember that the best solution is to publicly broadcast your private conversations with him in the hope that you’ll inspire a chorus of sympathetic losers to cheerlead your self-immolation and validate your desire to humiliate those who won’t feed your egotistical, self-absorbed, status striving herdthink.
The final word on the CUNDT and her species of post-America millennial woman:
they pair up with modern genderless shitlib males and get into those punching bag relationships where the wife is in the driver seat so both of their lives just sort of end up doing donuts, swerving into oncoming traffic, etc. if they have money they end up brunching and biking a lot and talking about global warming and refugees and rescue dogs. the woman becomes mean and haggard and a public nuisance and the man just looks at the floor a lot. looks like hell but tons of men jump right into it early and never reassess.
Good news. The Reassessing has begun. DOTR has a new meaning, and shitlib femcunt fatties will be hardest hit.

From Goolag Shitlackey To MAGA Shitlord: The Transformation of James Damore, blood sacrifice of the satanic leftist freak circus

The Daily Messenger: From Goolag Shitlackey To MAGA Shitlord: The Trans...: How do you turn a meek nerd into a ZFG shitlord? You deposit his dignity and livelihood in the Leftoid Equalist charnel house and make a ...

Friday, August 4, 2017

Whites excluded from student housing

REFLECTION IN ASTORNAUTS IPAD, SHOCKING, DEVILISH, PROOF NASA IS LYING.

This is EXACTLY how NASA fakes everything

Stages of Decline after a Society Becomes Infected by social justice feminist lesbians

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the CIA Spies on Our Everyday Life

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Sunday, July 30, 2017

Friday, July 28, 2017

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Most LGBT freaks join the military for the FREE SEX CHANGE OPERATIONS

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Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Sunday, July 16, 2017

Joseph Cotten explains useless greedy Women /MGTOW

How to trash a talentless wannabe singer woman

War on Boys

The Sexiest Man Alive

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IRS Agents Rob Convenience Store

This City Will Fine You for Mismatched Blinds

Saturday, July 15, 2017

John Podesta is a Satanic pedophile

7/7 Whistleblower Fired For Exposing False Flag

The Forfeiture Machine Turns Cops into Robbers

Civil Forfeiture Highway Shakedowns in Tennessee

Two retired cops talk candidly about Civil Asset Forfeiture Scam cops use to legally steal from citizens

Policing for Profit Visualized: How Big Is Civil Forfeiture?

IRS Threatens Prison For Depositing Cash In “Wrong” Amounts

Watch California Cops Steal Every Penny from an Innocent Family

Police and DEA have officers whose job it is to search out properties that are free and clear to asset seize...no shit

Federal & Local Law Enforcement Agencies Try to Take Family Motel from I...

Suicide - Haiti Official Was To Testify on Clinton Foundation, 1712

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Feminism - a jewish war on women

The Daily Messenger: Feminism - a jewish war on women: In the past couple of years I began to wonder about the fact that Jews are firmly in th...

Sunday, July 9, 2017

Busted! Anti-Trump/Pro-Immigration Protestors Bussed in to Baltimore

a fatty, a sheboon, your mom, and a bull dyke

Grossbusters


J C explains what he finds objectionable about this photo op:
This picture triggered my natural disgust response. The more I stared at it, the more it disturbed me. I had to determine why:
-the fact that the sick little boy wants nothing to do with a bunch of middle aged women playing at superheroes from a movie that he’s never seen (couldn’t they get Captain America and Iron Man for chrissakes?);
– the fact that the brilliant marketing team behind this thought that it would be a good idea to exploit dying children as a form of promotion for this destined-to-be-steaming-turd;
– their forced and off-putting mugging for the camera in the cancer ward of a children’s hospital;
– a fatty, a sheboon, your mom, and a bull dyke cast in these roles as some sort of “perfect diversity” marketing scheme in an attempt to appeal to SJW millennial femicunts;
– the fact that this film was made at all, shitting on the legacy of the originals.
You can almost hear Stewie’s insolent “suck it, Dust Busters” as he thrusts his loins towards these harridans in a noble attempt at shielding his young charge from their self-serving act of feigned altruism.
Boys deserve male heroes, not washed-up feminist simulacra.

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Why Women Over 30 Are a No-Go Zone

There’s no escaping the stampede of fat, bitchy, American women. They’re everywhere you look, and everywhere you’re trying not to look. They’re at the grocery store, the mall, the workplace, the bar. They have become so common at this point, I would start a business selling them out of giant gumball machines if it weren’t for the fact that nobody would pay a fucking quarter for them. And worst of all, this fat is generally piled onto a very sizable portion of the single women out there who are available to date.
Over 160 million out of the 320 million people who make up the population of the United States are enormous blobs of bloated shit, and some estimates are showing that three out of every four Americans will be overweight by the year 2020—an overwhelming 75 percent.
One of the most common thoughts that will pop into your head when you’re out and about is, “If that chick would just drop 20-30 pounds, she would be a total smoke show.” It’s one of the saddest things to witness because you can really see the potential hiding beneath the blubber on so many of these women.
fat bitch
Such a waste.
So, what does a man do when he’s surrounded by a bunch of waddling fat-fucks and things aren’t looking up? He looks down, and what does he find when he looks down? The dreaded single female over the age of 30. As a rule, I typically view the vast majority of single women over 30 in the same way I view those little gnats that fly around horse cocks when it’s hot outside: they’re annoying, worthless, and probably have dick-breath.
However, exceptions can and will be made for the better pecker gnats among us. A woman over 30 who goes the extra mile to take care of herself and possesses a physique that resembles a female human being certainly scores more points than some 250-pound warthog in her early to mid-twenties. But dating these older women is a depressing concession to make because they are—without question—the most fucked-up group of people you’ll ever have the misfortune of interacting with:
  • Mental illness with an emphasis on Cluster B Personality Disorders? Check—and they’ve got the prescriptions and dead, soulless eyes to prove it.
  • Alcoholism? Double check—but don’t worry, “It’s only wine, and I only have a couple of glasses to help me sleep and ‘take the edge off’ after a hard day.” (Everyday is a hard day spent on the razor’s edge, apparently.)
  • Grotesque, degenerate pasts that would make prostitutes from previous generations seem like wife material? Check—Jimmy Dean hasn’t seen as much sausage as these beat to hell, cock snot receptacles.
  • Pathological lying? Big check—these women don’t have a clue as to who the hell they truly are or what they’re all about. And since they don’t know, neither will you.
  • Delusional or completely oblivious to all of these things and still think a jacked and shredded, six-foot-five space shuttle commander who moonlights as a hedge fund manager and has the magical ability to shoot two-month-long yachting excursions to the Côte d’Azur out of his 11-inch cock is waiting just around the corner to sweep them off their tatted-up, 30-year-old, dick-stained asses? Check—in La La Land, only the absolute best will do.
But it’s not all bad news: at least they’re easy to get into bed. Not that you should be excited about that, because you shouldn’t. And based off my sampling of single women over 30 in recent months—all of whom were white, I will add—here are the top five reasons why you should check your enthusiasm at the door when pounding out these societal dregs.

They Say Distracting Try-Hard Bullshit That Ruins The Mood

“Get it, Daddy!”
“Fuck that pussy good!”
“Oh my God, that feels sooooooooo fucking AMAZING!”
“Yes! Yes! Yes! Ah! Ah! Don’t stop, Daddy!”
Jesus Christ—shut up. Women over 30 have called me “daddy” so many damn times that I’m beginning to wonder if I owe back child support to the single mothers who raised them so poorly. But it’s not just what they say that gets on my nerves: it’s the trite theatrics that is the most irritating.
I’m sure some guys get off when a woman howls like a strangled cat in the bedroom, but experience has shown this to be salesmanship more than anything else. They’re trying to inflate your ego, to make you feel like you’re “the man,” and that none of the other two dozen “daddies” who came before you fucked with such dick-wielding precision. The idea is if they can get you to buy into their bullshit, then you’re much more likely to commit and stick around.
But the truth comes to the surface when you end things. Once you send the “I think this little thing of ours has run its course and it’s time to move on” text, you suddenly morph from a master cock slinger into a guy who can’t fuck for shit and has no idea how to “satisfy a woman.” Just a week ago you were an orgasm dispensing machine of vaginal destruction, but now you’re an impotent no-dick-having loser who doesn’t know what the hell you’re doing—it’s hilarious. You’ll seldom see younger women behaving this way when a relationship ends.
Now, despite the obnoxious sounds and transparent platitudes that come out of these aging creatures, the sex itself will be decent to above average in many cases—they’re trying to reel you in, after all. But it’s important not to conflate good mechanical sex skills with passion, desire, or—God forbid—love, because those things aren’t truly there. You’re only getting the illusion of those things, and it’s all by design.
It’s just good pussy: it was good for all of those other motherfuckers, too. You’re not getting anything that everyone else hasn’t gotten already. These women didn’t spend their late teens and early twenties learning how to cook or developing the skills that would make them good wives and mothers: they were learning how to suck a mean dick and becoming top-tier leg spreaders.
When the only thing you have going for you is sex, it stands to reason that you would be pretty good at it. So use these women for that one thing while disregarding their loudmouthed, ego stroking bedroom antics, and save your commitment for a younger, less tainted woman who will display genuine passion and affection during your intimate times together (if you can find one, of course).

The Dissipating Scent Of Youth

rose
Women in their twenties, especially early twenties, have a certain scent to them. It’s the scent of fertility and youthful exuberance; it’s the scent of a woman in her prime. A woman over 30 has a smell that says, “Knock this one up, and the kid will pop out with a nipple where one of his eyeballs should be.” All of the soaps, perfumes, and lotions in the world cannot change this—it’s the natural scent of the “seasoned” woman, and it’s not a bug, it’s a feature.
This is one of nature’s ways of telling a man when a woman is over the hill. The chances of miscarriage go up drastically once a woman passes 30. The chances for birth defects—autism especially—all go up significantly as well. All pregnancies past the age of 35 are considered “high risk,” and that’s if these women can conceive children at all.
Hard living is normal living for the vast majority of women nowadays. A body that has consumed massive quantities of alcohol, recreational/prescription drugs, birth control pills and cocks, all combined with father time, is a body that is completely corrupted and polluted; it’s a body that is not suitable for motherhood. Your olfactory receptors can pick up on all of this, and you’ll more than likely notice yourself being slightly turned off whenever you catch a whiff of a woman whose better days are behind her.

They Feel “Different”

Not only do these women smell different, but they feel different as well. They are squishier, softer, and less firm due to their advancing age, but harder at the same time; it’s a strange sensation. Sluts always seem to have a rigid, inflexible feel to them. This is true regardless of age, but it gets worse with time and “experience.”
It sort of resembles a permanent “clinched” feeling, as if the muscles are constantly contracted or flexed—a case of rigor mortis in the undead, so to speak. Some may argue that perhaps this hardness is due to an inability on my part to make these women feel comfortable or relaxed, but I contest it’s due to their inability to feel comfortable or relaxed with themselves.
Imagine making life decisions that always result in unnecessary drama, calamity, and hardship as opposed to ones that would be ideal for you, your family, and your community. Imagine having an abortion or two after sleeping with a string of men whose first names you can’t remember, and whose last names you never knew. Imagine always taking the road most traveled: the road that leads to Xanax bars and empty bottles of cheap pinot noir.
Imagine doing all of these things from the time you’re a teenager all the way up until you’re on the wrong side of 30, and then try to come away from it all as a soft, lovable, well-adjusted human being who’s comfortable in your own skin—good fucking luck. These women feel hardened for a reason, and that reason is them.
If you were to describe the “thousand cock stare” or sociopathic/Cluster B gaze, you would typically use words like “empty” or “dead inside.” But if you really look at these women, you can see the tension stemming from their inner turmoil. You can see the pent-up contempt and self-loathing that consumes them. The aggression, the anger, the malice—it’s all lurking just beneath the surface, ready to unleash itself once the thin threads of sanity and civility snap for whatever reason.
All of this is not only present in the eyes, it’s on the body as well. You can truly feel the damage, antipathy, and tension when you’re in physical contact with these women. It’s not a pleasant experience, and it’s not something you should ignore. We have instincts for a reason, and one of the perils of living in a modern liberal society is that we’ve been brainwashed from a young age to ignore these instincts.
Women over 30 prey upon this brainwashing by using words like “judgmental” or “paranoid” in an attempt to elicit shame, which is why these words should always viewed as unofficial synonyms for “gut feelings” and “intuition.” Pay attention to these gut feelings—they will be amplified when you’re in the hardened, unloving embrace of a declining older woman who has been through far too much to retain her humanity.

Tattoos That Look Like a Freeway Overpass in a Bad Neighborhood

Tried to kill yourself? Advertise it to the world now with a semicolon tattoo.
Are you a fan of boat anchors, punctuation marks, or winged insects? Does your dick get hard when you see a raccoon’s footprints, a horoscope sign, or Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh? If so, then I’ve got some news that will make your day: on single women over 30, you’ll get to look at these things constantly, seeing as most of them have deemed it prudent to have some high school dropout with shaky hands and a drug problem permanently scrawl this kind of retarded shit all over their bodies.
And to make matters worse, looking at this “artwork” is just the tip of the iceberg, because if you’ve made it to the point where you’re looking at it, then at least you’ve made it on to phase two in most cases: the point where you’re getting laid. Phase one is much worse. This is when you get to sit, listen, and pretend like you could give two shits and a greasy fart about the stories that come along with their perma-doodles. An example:
Girl: “Yeah, so I decided to get a lion tattoo because I’m a Leo, and, I’m like, pretty ferocious, too.” (Lifts shirt to reveal jailhouse quality lion tattoo.)
Me: “That’s a male lion, though.”
Girl: “Yeah… so?”
Me: “You’d think you would have gone with a female. If I got a lion tattoo, it would be a male, not a female, you know, because I’m a dude.”
Girl: “What? Why not? What’s wrong with female lions? Besides, the Leo sign is a male.”
Me: “The females are total pussies compared to the males.”
Girl: “What? You can’t be serious! The females do all the hunting while the males just sit around all day!”
Me: “Sounds like a great gig if you can get it. If things work out between us I’ll quit my job and hang out at home all day while you do all the money hunting, deal?”
Girl: “Ha! Dream on!”
Me: “Why not? I’ll give you an allowance. The male lion shares his food with the females. I don’t see a problem with giving you a small cut of the money you earn. But really, though, you should be ashamed of that tattoo—just sayin’.”
Girl: “What? Never! Why?”
Me: “Because when a male lion takes over a new pride, he kills the cubs of his predecessor. The king of the jungle doesn’t date single moms and he ain’t no cuck. You have a child murderer tattooed on your body. You’re a terrible person, and you’re going to hell.”
Girl: “You’re fucking ridiculous! Haha, oh my god…”
As you can see, it’s a painful experience conversing with these empty-headed morons. And this was actually one of the more pleasant interactions because at least she knew something about lions, which was kind of nice. The worst one I’ve encountered so far was a chick with a semicolon tattoo, which, come to find out, represents when somebody has attempted suicide in the past. She was a real bundle of fucking joy to be around.
Look, here’s the deal with women and their tattoos: whatever reason they give you for having one, that reason exists just the same as it would without it. That idiot in the above exchange was born between July 23rd and August 22nd—she’s a Leo with or without the king of the jungle etched into her skin. If a relative or close friend has passed away, then getting a tattoo doesn’t somehow intensify one’s love for that individual, and it certainly doesn’t change the fact that they’re gone. If someone has accomplished something that makes them proud, a tattoo won’t make the accomplishment any more—or any less—significant.
When a woman gets a tattoo to serve as a reminder to be “strong” or to “persevere,” what’s she’s truly conveying is that she’s a weak-willed, simple-minded dumbass. Every human being who has ever existed has had to be strong and persevere on some level, and well over 99 percent of them managed to pull it off without some lame-ass motivational quote or Bible verse (Leviticus 19:28, anyone?) scrawled all over their bodies.
“But-but-but tattoos are common in many cultures and have been for centuries!” argues the 32-year-old strumpet who got a meaningless butterfly tramp stamp back in ’04 during one of her many alcohol and pecker fueled evenings at college, but says it’s to honor the dead grandma that she never called or visited at the nursing home located just down the street from her house. Correct, whore, tattoos are common in many cultures: savage, third world, haven’t-accomplished-shit cultures.
Heard of any groundbreaking technological breakthroughs or feats of engineering coming out of Western Samoa or Papua New Guinea recently? Yeah, me neither, but I’m sure they’ll get around to it—as soon as they’re done building houses out of doo-doo, and chucking rocks at coconut trees to knock down their fucking dinner.
Primitive people do primitive shit, which is why tatted up women have become so common in degenerate modern America. They’re doing what feral, uncivilized people have been doing all along: going backwards, not forward, and this is the direction things will continue heading for the foreseeable future.
Living the good life in Tattoodistan.
A single woman over 30—or any woman, for that matter—with tattoos is showcasing the fact that she makes bad decisions. Not only are these rapidly fading out symbols of sucking at life an eyesore, they’re also a clear and definitive indicator of when a woman is to serve strictly as a warm slab of meat for a man to temporarily stick his dick inside. As for any single women over 30 who are thinking about getting a new tattoo, allow me to make a recommendation:
Unlike all of your other tattoos, at least this one wouldn’t be bullshit.

The Dark Holes

If you were to look through Ray Charles’ eyes at a piece of sunburnt licorice trapped inside a smoke-filled car with tinted windows at midnight, then you would be well on your way to replicating the pitch black abyss that is the dookie dispenser of the average white woman over 30. It’s absolutely disgusting.
You’re probably wondering, “How the hell did you find out this information?” The fucking hard way—that’s how. Now, I always practice safe sex with aging skanks: with the lights out, or, worse case scenario, very dim. This is so I don’t see something I don’t want to see. Taking this precaution has served me well for the most part, and has gone a long way in concealing all of the unsavory features that unfortunately exist in stronger lighting.
However, one day I met up with one of the chicks I was seeing for an afternoon sex session. She was acting a bit insecure and even said that she didn’t want me to see her naked in the light. I took her hand and placed it on my semi-hard dick so she could feel it through my pants. I find doing this coupled with saying something like, “See what you do to me?” really diffuses these kinds of insecure moments when older females come to the realization that there are no Instagram filters or angle tricks to disguise the fact that they pretty much suck in real life.
Anyway, we started going at it. Everything is moving along as expected and I decided to finish things up doggy-style. I get her flipped over and start doing the “pronated two-handed grabber” on the ass-cheeks and spread ’em open a bit as I’m nailing her. And that’s when I saw it for the first time: The Darkness. I slammed her ass-cheeks shut like they were my front door when a battalion of Watchtower wielding Jehovah’s Witnesses show up looking for a new convert.
“Dear God… that wasn’t shit, was it? Please tell me that wasn’t shit,” I thought as I closed my eyes while continuing to pound away. I did a few quick sniffs but didn’t smell anything other than number four on this list in the air. At this point, I had to take a few seconds and calm down because I knew I would lose it if I looked again and discovered this woman hadn’t showered or at least wiped her ass before inviting me over. After about a minute had passed, and after some additional mental preparation and feeling sorry for myself, I decided to take another peak at The Darkness.
I slowly parted her ass-cheeks again, my thrusting now reduced to a snail’s pace…
“What are you doing back there?” inquired the owner of The Darkness.
“Uh, nothing, just fucking you…” I replied while staring in bewilderment at her diesel smoke tinted anus.
“You’re looking at my ass aren’t you… Mmmmm… it’s all yours if you want it,” she said while cocking her head to the side so she could see me through her peripheral vision. A mischievous looking grin emanated from her face.
“Not right now,” I said while attempting to look like I would love the opportunity to bang her char-grilled, chewed-up bubble gum looking asshole at some point in the future.
“Mmmmm, well, whenever you want it, you got it, Daddy.”
“Well that’s just fucking great,” I thought. I gave her a slightly sardonic grin in response, closed her ass-cheeks, and continued banging her with severely diminished avidity. Eventually, I finished. Afterward, we chilled on the bed and discussed the possibility of doing something together in the evening, but I was distracted: I just couldn’t stop thinking about The Darkness…
“What the hell was going on there?”
“Well, it wasn’t shit, so that was a plus… I guess.”
“I can’t believe she wanted me to stick my dick in there… Bitch is out of her mind.”
“God… there’s no way that was normal.”
“How is something like that even possible?”
As you can see, I had a lot of questions, and, at the time, no real answers. But later on in the evening, it hit me: all the anal sex this woman experienced throughout the years had more than likely darkened her sphincter. After all, she thought nothing of letting me just “stick it in” if I wanted to, so it certainly wasn’t her first rodeo.

In Closing

The type of women discussed here all think they’re “great catches.” Don’t believe me? Just ask them—they’ll be more than happy to tell you how great they are. And you know what? The truth is they’ll all end up married if that’s what they want. They’ll all end up with men who truly love them and worship the ground they walk on. This is the case for any marginally attractive female over 30, not just the ones I’ve dealt with directly. So, in reality, I guess they really are great catches because the majority of men out there are willing to prove them right.
This isn’t to say these men will be dreams come true (they won’t be), but if you’re clinging to the notion that these women will hit “the wall”—that there will be abject loneliness, cats, and dildos with (really dark) butthole ticklers serving as the only things keeping them company, then I’m afraid you’re mistaken. The wall is nothing more than a chain-link fence at this point, and there are desperate and clueless men sitting at the ready with bolt cutters in hand, just waiting for the opportunity to cut out a nice hole for these low-rent skanks to pass through.
This can be extremely frustrating. If men won’t hold these women to any kind of standards, then what incentive is there for them to become something that resembles decent human beings? Things will never get better until men collectively tell these women that they’re straight-up not fucking good enough—because they’re not. When I see men rewarding these women with committed relationships, or, worse yet, moving in together and marrying them, I often find myself thinking of this quote from Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four:
He wondered, as he had many times wondered before, whether he himself was a lunatic. Perhaps a lunatic was simply a minority of one… But the thought of being a lunatic did not greatly trouble him; the horror was that he might also be wrong…
Chances are this will strike a chord with you because often, out in the real world, you’ll be the only person you know who actually thinks about anything beyond the topical and the frivolous. You’ll see men shacking up with society’s unflushable turds and find that you’re the only one saying, “What the hell is wrong with all of these guys, what are they thinking?”
The fact of the matter is they aren’t thinking. Much like Winston Smith lamented how he was possibly the only man to see the Party for the sham it truly was—that only he possessed the common sense and clairvoyance necessary to see deep into the truth of things—you may also find yourself feeling similarly isolated and disillusioned. You’ll be “a minority of one,” an army you, and you alone.
This is not something that should cause consternation, however; it’s something that should be cherished and held dear. I used to be of the opinion that happiness was an emotional luxury afforded only to those with an inability to cogitate—that the more a man thinks, the less happy he will be. This is not the case at all, provided you equate truth with happiness. It can be easy to assume a negative outlook when you’re the only man not playing the game. But take solace in the fact that all of those other guys aren’t playing the game, either—it’s playing them, and there are very few winners when it’s all said and done.
The men who marry these degenerate women and prop them up don’t have the truth, and, therefore, they don’t have true happiness. They’re living through a carefully constructed ruse, an act where the female is the star and director, and only she decides when, where, and how the curtain will fall—and fall it will. Never covet the lie, and never feel despondent when observing those men who buy into the lie displaying their mock happiness: their emotional currency is counterfeit, and their time is borrowed.
You will never be one of those men so long as you choose the truth. The truth serves as a shield against the machinations of the malefactors and the interlopers: you can’t be fucked with when the truth is in your corner. And a man who can’t be with fucked is a man who has all he needs to make it through this hell called the modern dating scene while still living a happy, fulfilling life. Whether he’s perceived as a lunatic by the bystanders doesn’t mean shit—because the bystanders don’t mean shit.
And that’s the truth.
H/T: A.V.Y.



http://dailywesterner.com/news/2017-06-26/why-women-over-30-are-a-no-go-zone/



Tuesday, June 27, 2017

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The Daily Messenger: To Protect them from Other Vile LGBT Abuse, Texas ...: To Protect them from Other Vile LGBT Abuse, Texas Pastors get “Sermon Protection Act” ... the whores of Lucifer smell as bad as they look and need to be prayed over with the spirit of FIRE

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The Ugly Truth of Online Dating Lifestyle Online dating used to be reserved for single parents and the washed up spinsters who had an easy way to lock down a beta provider as they would be the only men on there, but today things have changed and basically anyone who owns a smartphone is in the game.

Why Should Women Save Their Virginity for Marriage
Entitlement feminists only see the dollars - will be divorced in 4 to 6  years

Apps such as Tinder provide an easier outlet to engage in online dating for the younger generation, with an abundance of talent under the age of 35. With easy access to a variety of girls all with the swipe of a thumb, it would appear as though we have hit the jackpot, but for the majority of average guys out there, the harsh reality tells a different story.

Its not what it seems

It does seem like we have an easy and convenient option of meeting new girls, compared to the standard nightclub grind. Now you don’t have to wait till the weekend in hopes that your friends might be keen on a night on the town to hit on women when it’s more than likely you will be ending the night getting smashed and stuffing your face with a kebab while waiting for an Uber big enough to fit your blue balls in.
The new age of online dating has basically eliminated the need to rely on such endeavors as you can now hit on an unlimited amount of girls from your smartphone. However, we are paying the ultimate price for this convenience as it allows the majority of females the opportunity to fulfill their sexual desires at the detriment of the average bloke.

A tool to fuel the female ego

The rise of social media and online dating apps such as Tinder give females a platform for endless attention and validation. These reasons alone provide girls with leverage over most males in the sexual marketplace. Back in the day, girls would have to dress to the nines and smash a few bottles of cheap wine with their girlfriends while pre-drinking to pop music ready to get even less attention than they do now.
In a nightclub, girls may get hit on a few times by the more alpha or drunk guys, and maybe receive a few glances from some other guys, but not everyone in the spot will act on their urges. Tinder and social media provide all girls with an endless source of validation, because any guy can show their interest much easier than real life. The validation may come in the form of a like on social media or a right swipe on Tinder, which over time will cause an inflated ego and sense of self worth.

Set yourself apart to even the playing field

Most of my successes have been in real life situations based and my willingness to approach and the way I presented myself. If I’m in a nightclub and I’m one of the few guys to approach and make a good impression, there is more urgency for the girl to act on my advancements, since there is a chance she might not see me again. On Tinder, however, there is no urgency for a girl to see a guy who she finds attractive compared to a real life situation.

In the digital world, I am just one of many hundred other guys who could have approached her in a given week. It’s hard to set yourself apart and gain the same attention compared to real life when any guy can easily approach online.

The ease of entry for any guy to get in the online game causes an increase in competition for the same girls. For instance, a Tinder profile can be set up quite easily—all you need is a few photos and your mum to take some cool muscle pictures of you while your flexing into the camera.

It’s quite easy to become complacent and rely solely on online game as you can technically approach girls until you get thumb cramp, but with every other guy adopting the same strategy, girls will soon become saturated with unlimited options. This is because most guys are keen to pursue these girls.
Girls who receive attention from a large pool of guys have a false sense of their own value. And if provided with a large selection of potential candidates, girls will only chose the top value men, who may not want a relationship with these girls, but are still willing to sleep with them one or two times.
Things that earn the average guy points in real life like having the balls to cold approached in public along with the confidence and charisma that follows have a limited value in the online world. So while you’re killing your pool workout at the gym and right swiping in-between sets, it will be that tall good-looking meathead with the shit tattoos that will be best served on Tinder.

Conclusion

Many of the average males are left with limited options, as girls who are less attractive than they are manage to secure intimacy with higher value males. Girls who have the option to sleep with higher value males will be reluctant to settle for guys of the same or lower level of attractiveness.
The result is a high number of guys who are not getting any action but are still helping validate these girls online. Due to the large amount of thirsty guys, girls are now in a position of power as they can control the sexual marketplace.

In a time where such harsh conditions are dictating the sexual marketplace, it is more important now to consider other alternatives, as only relying on Tinder will be a poor strategy. As previously highlighted in the manosphere, both day and night game can yield good results, especially if you commute into the city everyday on public transport. It also helps if you live in a city where you have strong social connections.

It is important for guys to realize the current state of dating in the modern digital society in order to be aware of the disadvantages they face, so appropriate steps can be taken in spite of the adversity.



In a relationship, men want sex and women want attention. Some men give attention knowing they won’t get much sex, and some women give sex knowing they won’t get the full attention they crave. These men are in stressful relationships or are friend-zoned, and these women are easy. The men are known as feminists or … Why Should Women Save Their Virginity for Marriage