I’m having a really good time digging around in old articles on the usenet archives. This story was posted by someone I’ll call John, way back in 1995. Let’s hear this brother tell his tale of marital bliss…

My wife is romantically involved with another man. I found out last week.

 

I had my suspicion before but now I know for sure. I heard them talking on the phone when she didn’t think I was home. Listening to them talk was like a knife twisting slowly in my back. I am really upset. I am going crazy. She doesn’t know I know. I have hardly slept or eaten for the last several days.

 

Since then I have put together all the evidence I ignored before. Some background information: We have been married 10 years. We have 2 kids, 9 and 2. We never got along very well, it has been downhill since the beginning. I’m a nice, easy going kind of guy. I give her everything she wants. I have always been faithful to her. She treats me like dirt.

John’s marriage sounds like the typical American coupling. He gives the bitch everything she wants, she sneers at him and fucks all and sundry behind his back. Really makes me regret my bachelor life, lemme tellya.

I finally talked her into marriage counseling, we went a few times. It seemed to help. We both know that we don’t really like each other that much. There is nothing that we like to do together, except for sex, and that has tapered off to almost nothing. We both agree that we would have split a long time ago, if it wasn’t for the kids. We don’t think it would be good for the kids. I don’t know what to do. I have thought about these options.

 

1) Don’t do anything, just let it go on. This is not good for my mental health. I have seen this before, and I always wondered why do they let them do that, why don’t they just leave? The advantage is that it makes her happy and she doesn’t treat me as bad. Sometimes she said I should get a girl friend and she would get a boy friend. I thought she was joking. I think that she wants to have her cake and eat it too. A husband to earn ca$h, babysit and fix the plumbing, and a lover for fun on the side. I think she still cares about me, even if she doesn’t like me. It makes me nervous when she asked me to take out a big life insurance policy, though. I care about her, but I don’t like spending time with her  any more than she likes spending time with me.

We must note that John is not thinking clearly about his situation. He thinks this bitch cares about him, yet she’s encouraging him to take out a huge life insurance policy (I’m sure she and Chad would ideally be the beneficiaries of such largess.)

This is a decent illustration of the inherent handicap men face when dealing with wimminz. Men simply can not face reality. No wimminz sees a man as a human being. At best he is a useful piece of farm machinery, and usually a wimminz will look at all men as deadly and hated enemies. That includes your wife, your mother, and every other wimminz you will ever meet. Moreover, wimminz are naturally skilled at lying, grifting, and every other aspect of dishonesty, to a level which you will never, ever approach.

2) Get my own girl friend. Turn about is fair play? All I wanted was a  wife who treated me like a human being. I never thought it right for a  married man to be going out with other women. It doesn’t seem fair to the  woman either. Between the kids and my job I don’t have a whole lot of  time, usually 2 hours in the evening, some weekend days. (She has a more  flexible schedule, they see each other at least twice a week, I think).  And how would I go about finding a girlfriend? I have been out of action  for 10 years. And what woman wants to go with a married man, anyway? I  have seen the lonely hearts ads but there isn’t a category for MM seeks F.  Is there a group for people like me?

John’s wife wants him to get his own slut, because that will increase his wife’s leverage over him, and it will further distract John from possibly fighting his wife for the things she’s trying to rob him of. John is already in dire straits with one wimminz, he is correct to decline the generous offer of inviting others to the party.

John is absolutely wrong about the inability to find a wimminz, though. If he were in his situation today, he’d just fire up Tinder and be fucking one of countless new whores within hours. There are no shortage of skanks on the dating sites who are married and cheating, just like his own slut wife.

3) Confront her. Tell her I know. She would probably deny it, or play it  down. She might say so what, what are you going to do about it? What then?

Why bother confronting her? She doesn’t care if you know. She’ll probably just deny it anyway.

What might be more entertaining is sitting down for the confrontation, and telling her that you’ve got a mass e-mail ready to go out to all the neighbors, everyone you go to church/temple/synagogue with, and the managers of all the shops the bitch likes to frequent. John’s wife wouldn’t be seen as such a big shot once he mashes that button.

If any of you boys are ever in John’s shoes, try this out. See what she does…

4) Confront the guy. Tell him to get the hell out of my wife. But she  works with him, she sees him everyday. They probably wouldn’t stop. I  don’t know exactly how involved they are, lots of lovey-dovey stuff on  the phone and “wasn’t last night great” and “you are the only woman for  me” and stuff, but would he divorce his wife and marry her? I don’t know.  I could tell the guy’s wife (if I could find out where they live). She  might stop it. Even if I do stop this affair, she would probably start  another one. I have been suspicious of her off and on for many years, but  I always thought she was true. How blind I’ve been.

John thinks that the other guy is actually in love with this whore, but he is absolutely mistaken. The other guy sees her for what she is: a skank, with no loyalty and no self-discipline. That man is himself a seriously damaged individual, even to entertain this affair. He probably has homosexual tendencies, and gets excited thinking that he’s kissing her right after she sucked off her husband. The cheater surely eats John’s wife’s cunt, with visions of John’s cock and balls plowing into the very furrow he’s greedily sucking.

Gay.

Anyway: What is actually going to happen is that these two lovebirds might fuck for a few more weeks, before that dude loses all interest in this skank, and kicks her hard to the curb. When John’s bitch wife gets rejected, that is the proper time for a confrontation.

In general terms, I think that if the other party is married, one is somewhat obligated to approach the other victim, and at least let him or her know what’s up. I think that if I were John, I would probably do this with an anonymous letter.

5) Confront them both, in the act. I would probably go ballistic but I  might feel better afterwards. I’m not sure that it would do any good.

This seems like a potentially terrible idea. The two of them are in the room. You’ve caught them, and all bets are off. Do you know if one or both are armed? Hope you didn’t buy that “large life insurance policy.” It’s also very likely that they’d scheme up a story and have John arrested, by falsely accusing him of bursting in and assaulting them during an innocent business meeting.

A wise man will bide his time, and get revenge on his own terms.

6) Divorce her. I know I would be more happy living away from her. I have  been happier when she was away on vacation. If it wasn’t for the kids it  would be easy. Our 9 year old daughter likes living with me much more  than with her ill tempered mom. She would prefer us not to divorce, but  if we did she would want to live with me. Our 2 year old boy loves being  with me. She has her relatives living with us, they take care of him in  the day time. He would probably have to stay with her for now. We have  talked about divorce before, she says, fine lets get divorced – but you  can never see your kids and you have to give me lots of money. We live in  California, I don’t know what the divorce laws are. It seems expensive  (“it’s cheaper to keap ‘er”). And of course we save on rent and taxes and  whatnot by living together.

I don’t know the law, but it seems like a general rule is that divorce gets gradually more expensive, the longer the marriage lasts. The bitch is going to divorce John anyway. He needs to see a qualified professional immediately. No matter how bad the payoff is now, it’ll be worse next year.

I’m not an attorney, but I have heard that some states are better than others. John might investigate whether it is feasible to set up a “household” in Arizona or Oregon, and then, a couple months hence, drop the papers from there. Beat the bitch to the punch and make her travel to court.

Either way, divorce needs to happen. There’s probably no way for John to “win” in such an exchange, but he might be able to minimize the brutality of his losses, and an attorney is the one to help him.

7) Just leave. Get my own apartment. Come by to visit the kids some times.  Take them home sometimes. I would not miss my wife at all, but I’d miss the kids. She wouldn’t let me take them, I think. Showdown time. I don’t  think it would bother our 2 year old a lot, but without me our 9 year old  would be devastated. This would be a prelude to divorce. She might clear  out the bank account, blow up the credit cards, etc. I should split the  accounts, cards, etc. before leaving? We own property. Dividing things up  could get messy and expensive if lawyers are involved. What should I do? Any advice, suggestions, information? I need to do  something soon, I’m really freaking out. I cried on my way to work today,  I know that a man isn’t supposed to cry, and I usually don’t but I’m way  out there. I can’t sleep. I lay down, and my body is tired, but my mind  is racing. I can’t make myself eat, I’ve lost 7 pounds in the last 4 days.  My co-workers can tell something is wrong, but they don’t know what. I  haven’t told anyone. My wife is so out of tune with me I don’t think she  notices anything different. I try to hide it. I feel angry, hurt, sad.  Sometimes I’m so mad I’m just shaking. For some reason I keep remembering  the few good times we have had together, the precious little moments when  we were both happy to be with each other and not the bad

These are the consequences of signing on to that marriage certificate. If ever you’re tempted to marry one of these skanks, remember John’s sad story, and just say no to the ho’.

One of the brothers sent me a link to the following video, produced by Glenn Beck.

Beck, an LDS convert and a notoriously disloyal, globalist cuck, would like to teach us about manliness and masculinity. Let’s see what we can learn…

Respect to a woman is a deference to her. It is manliness. That’s why I bow. That’s why I open the door. Whatever you want, I got it.

What is a man? What is masculinity? It is the bowing of my head to you, it is the bowing of my will to you. That’s what a man is. That’s what masculinity is. 

You yield to the will of the woman. That’s a real man…

Aside from the numerous other qualities of Beck, we see that he is also a male feminist, and an enemy to men everywhere. In this video, we hear him promoting the message that wimminz are clearly superior to men, and that men need to bow down and defer to wimminz in every interaction.

So, we know what our degenerate capitalist and feminist society preaches. Let’s contrast these stupid teachings, with some wisdom from healthy, patriarchal sources…

Her father protects her in childhood, her husband protects her in youth, and her sons protect her in old age; thus, a woman is never fit for independence. (source)

Our ancestors found it appropriate, because of the levity of her disposition, that a woman may never be freed from guardianship, even if she achieve the age of her majority. (source)

There is no wisdom in women other than the spinning wheel… The words of Torah should burn rather than be taught to women. (source)

Never forget: All our ancestors spit on the feminists, and mock their enablers.

All your forefathers smile on you, when you resist our enemies.

Wimminz have now made themselves so objectionable, so repellent, that even young, hormone-addled men are increasingly laughing at their best attempts to cajole them into a sexual relationship.

Over at the typical feminist web page, the typical feminists are doing their best to reassure their dupes about how they’re currently being depicted. In this article, a pseudoman named “Dan Van Winkle” assures wimminz that there’s no cause for alarm, because all the men who are refusing them dick and attention really aren’t worthy of their skank cunts anyway.

The feminists are correct, to some extent. Wimminz are indeed still getting fucked (and chucked) by men like me and the boys. We plow their holes and send them packing, until the next time we find them useful. Rinse and repeat.

The men that such wimminz really need, in a material capacity, are solid young brothers like Earl. Unfortunately, those men find harlots instinctively repellent, and the majority of wimminz on offer to such young brothers don’t meet the minimum standards for serious commitment.

Old “Dan” is desperate to peddle the nonsensical idea that men going without sex have “such a problem,” but one will note that “he” never specifies what this “problem” specifically entails. I can help him out in that regard. In my estimation, the average young brother who disciplines himself to abandon the hoez has problems like:

• more free time to do what he wants
• more disposable income, to spend as he likes
• the peace-of-mind which comes with being the master of his own house
• zero probability of child-support judgment
• No Herpes, HIV, HPV, etc.

It’s likely, in my estimation, that the average “incel” has much stronger ties to family members, without a meddling slut constantly attempting to undermine his relationships. He’s probably more likely to be politically and socially active in his community. I’m absolutely certain that he has none of the stress that I had, in my early twenties, when I was constantly trying to please a vacuous twat.

While it’s true that sex “takes at least two people,” it’s a mistake to assume that none of these men are actually fucking. They’re just being discreet. The sort of sex that these young brothers are likely having is the sort that won’t make it into a double-blind study in a peer-reviewed journal article. Some of them probably go see prostitutes and strippers. Others might have a downlow fling once in a while, no-strings-attached, thanks to Tinder. The rest might use VR porn, sexual devices, and/or just masturbate the old-school way.

Hey, boys, wimminz don’t want to have sex with you! They don’t want to fuck you, and in return, you get to keep your money, your families, your homes, your vacations, your jobs and your sanity. I’m sure you’re all broken up over this sort of rejection, right?

As for “Dan”‘s more specious claim, that wimminz are likely dyking out with one another rather than coupling up in normal relationships — it might be true, but he gives no evidence, and so what if it is? The serious men find you sluts disgusting, and the playaz don’t care what you do, provided you’re available on demand to drain our sacks. So go at it.

Hegel taught us that history was a process, driven by contradictions. That young men are abandoning wimminz today is a very alarming trend, when viewed in a historical context.

One can go wander around the comment sections of Dalrock or Heartiste, and see men in their forties and fifties and sixties who have “gone ghost,” because after a lifetime of divorce, nagging, and abuse, they finally decided that wimminz were no longer worth the trouble. In generations past (including my own) it was rare to see a young brother, under twenty-five, with this same attitude.

Today, I rub shoulders with men in their late teens and early twenties, and these men almost all hate wimminz. I have said it before: If the young men I hang out with saw a woman being beaten to death in the street, I believe the likely response would be laughing, and perhaps a few of them would pull out their cell-phones to record the spectacle.

Men my age might instinctively recoil from the thought that young men could be so cruel, and we might be tempted to castigate their whole generation for their psychopathology, but I understand it.

The average 15-year old boy has endured as much wimminz abuse as my generation’s 40-something divorced father. They’ve suffered under their skank-ho single mom, and they’ve suffered under their teachers, and they’ve suffered under the filthy feminist mass-media and pop-culture, which has told them from birth that they are garbage, and better off dead.

If the so-called experts and academics had an interest in our society (they don’t) they’d be scrambling to fix this problem. Unfortunately, that would mean changing wimminz into something more palatable — or at least fostering an illusion that a wimminz was worth more than her three holes. What are wimminz currently offering these men, which could compensate for the trouble and expense their presence causes? None of them know how to cook or keep a home. Examine some of the younger generation, and you’ll find that many wimminz seem to lack basic life-skills, like showering, shaving and brushing their teeth. Is it any surprise that their male peers find them untouchable?

The following story comes to us from usenet. This poor brother signed on to a marriage contract, at some point in the past, and has subsequently been broken. Let’s hear him tell it.

That all sounds very reasonable. I wonder why the bitch hasn’t complied with the judge’s order?

While I don’t know for sure what the judge means, I can guess that he doesn’t want to deal with it, because he knows that your skank-ho ex has the potential to get nasty feminist protestors out in the street if he enforces his own order. Better for a cowardly man to pass the buck, than to risk negative press coverage.

And, again, it’s easy to blame your solicitor, but if he knows that the order is not going to be enforced by the judge, then why would he attempt to enforce it himself? It’d just be a waste of time and money.

I have no advice for this poor schlub, but if you boys are smart, you’ll take his story to heart, and not get married.

The following story is not mine (obviously). It was posted anonymously to a usenet newsgroup. It’s copypasta here because it pretty much has it all.

Many’s the time I’ve wandered around on the Dalrock and Heartiste comment section, bored to death by Joe Jackass fetishizing his virgin bride.

This guy married his high-school sweetie and took her hymen in a messy red conquest. According to Dalrock, Cane Caldo, Anonymous Reader, and countless other idiots, he should have had a perfect marriage (just like Saeed Abedini, Mr. Jenny Erickson, and so many other lucky men).

A couple of points here:

1. Those of us who love the patriarchal ideal respect this man’s choice to take this girl in adoption. The problem is that he should have been afforded that choice when she was a baby, not after he was lied to by his skank-ho wife.
2. AfOr (over at the wimminz blog) predicted the clandestine use of ancestry tests for the establishment and refutation of paternity. He’s now gone, but we nonetheless tip our hats to the prophet, who foresaw yet another social consequence of technology.

I don’t know about anyone else, but this really makes me regret not marrying little Sara Barlow, who I was playing grabass with in the tenth grade. Just think! I could have worked my whole life while she banged all and sundry, with me none the wiser until someday, in my early 50s, it all comes to pieces.

My brother is still stuck in the ideological trap of assuming that wimminz are possessed of a normal sense of morality. He thinks that his slut wife will feel badly about exploiting him for his time and resources. She will not. Our Uncle Sig already explained this in painstaking detail.

This wimminz knows that she is a filthy, lying whore. She doesn’t care that her husband knows it. He is a man, after all, and to a wimminz, a man is merely a piece of machinery.

What she does care is the knowledge spreading to other wimminz.

If I were in this brother’s shoes, I’d calmly sit down with my lying skank, and encourage her to open her new web page, which will be found at:

http colon slash slash www dot sarabarlowisawhore dot ca

There she would find the scanned results of all DNA tests, along with moving testimony, authored by me.

Before she could react, I’d explain that I had an email list of everyone in our (Mormon) ward directory, and that by pressing one button on my phone, the link would be sent to everyone we knew, all the relatives of everyone we knew, and various other people who work in the supermarkets and shoe stores around town. She would then get one chance to work out an equitable property settlement in our divorce, which would be filed as uncontested, within the hour.

Some quick answers to this poor guy, off the top of my head.

1. Your adult children really ought to be made aware of all the facts, with a calm explanation that a serious man treats his adopted children precisely similar to natural ones.
2. Given that you have taken these children in adoption, your behavior toward your skank-ho ex is one of the most important lessons you are obligated to teach them as their father. Explain to this girl that you’re a serious man, and that you don’t tolerate lying whores in your vicinity. Her mother has already abdicated her position as your wife, and she has also disqualified herself from being worthy of any peripheral association.
3. There is no way you can save your marriage. I might allow for the fact that you occasionally fuck the whore on the downlow after the divorce, but only if she’s some sort of uniquely talented sexual acrobat.

Months ago, I warned all my brothers about fucking a tinder slut who claims to be “visiting” from some other area. Tinder allows such a wimminz to seek out other men, while keeping her main squeeze in the dark. It’s especially nefarious, because such a man who had a tinder account would never see his wife or girlfriend as “online,” given the proximity filter.

Tinder execs immediately contacted ya boy Boxer, confirming that they marketed their app to attached wimminz who wanted to cheat with new dick, out of sight of their partners.

The following helpful video has been produced by the company, in order to illustrate the process. It is with great honor that I share Tinder’s public confirmation, and I thank based Tinder for their support of our blog.

If you are fucking a wimminz who has a tinder profile, the company would like you to know exactly what “your” girl is doing on her “vacations,” her “business trips,” and her “visits to grandma.”

Likewise, as we already know, if some hot piece of ass “matches” with you, and she tells you she’s from “out of town,” then you can be absolutely confident that she’s cheating on some other man — likely a husband. No matter how good she looks, you should let the next simp hit that.

I found a very interesting photo shoot over on Facebook, depicting some ugly old post-wall wimminz and her divorce celebration. The captions are a fascinating study in self-deception.

This wimminz and her handlers (the photographers to whom she paid her ex-husband’s money, in return for a fatuous online ego-boost) seem desperate to sell female bystanders on the idea of divorcing their husbands. Of course, this is profitable to the photography company, because it will increase the pool of potential customers. It’s also a way for a hideous, immoral, failing skank to assure herself that she made the right choice, in violating her most important promises, and in ruining the lives of her children.

As we’ve seen many times on this blog, the natural symbiosis which obtains between the male and female who couple up in a traditional human dyad has been warped, perverted, mutated. What exists in a contemporary pseudo-marriage is more akin to a parasitic life-cycle, in which the female parasite seeks out a male host. Through a variety of psychological tricks, the parasite weakens the host and feeds on the decaying physical and financial organism. She does so only so long as she feels she is maximizing the return on her efforts.

It is very common for the host to begin failing before the parasite’s life-cycle is complete. When this happens, the wimminz will inevitably look for a new host to which she can attach, and often this will occur before the present host is even aware of the ongoing transformation.

When a new parasite is located, she will make her move with a rapidity which shocks even the most hardened of misogynists (like me.)

Once the new simp is in place, the hammer is dropped, and she announces that she “loves” her husband, “but is not in love” with him.

In order to maximize the profit of this transition, the parasite will use the power of the capitalist and feminist state, to strip her host of any final remaining assets. His residual wealth will usually be split between her, the government, and various divorce attorneys.

Thus we might see the first husband as an intermediate host, through which the parasite gains full maturity, developing her ability to grift and rob and lie, while simultaneously learn the intricacies of the family law system and the rules with which the capitalist mode-of-production allows her to efficiently and successfully exploit the men around her, for the maximum dollar output.

Many divorced wimminz, in my experience, sport a tattoo which memorializes the victory she achieved in the divorce courts. The tattoo which commemorates the successful destruction of her victim is much more common than the photo shoot. Tattoos convey several collateral messages simultaneously. Tattooed people are unemployable in most serious professions, and thus the skanky tatt communicates the fact that she is independently wealthy — supported by a man she chumped — and thus is not used to working, and doesn’t like productive labor. The tattoo is also a signal to the weak, evil, and destructive men in her vicinity. It identifies her as a fellow traveler in the decadent lifestyle of the hedonist, the criminal, and the undisciplined. It signals that she is available for mating to this decadent and shiftless element.

The parasite’s transport host has been discarded, and her basic needs have been met, but only temporarily. She knows instinctively that she needs to attract and keep a subsequent man. As her looks have gone, she amps up the vulgar displays of sexual accessibility to all men within view. She hopes that her cottage-cheese thighs and her turkey-neck will be passed over by you, her next victim, as she lewdly flashes her cunt in your direction.

With arrogant preening and sarcastic laughter she mocks her last victim, and within seconds, she turns on a dime, to express what seems like sincere empathy and commitment to the next. She has already betrayed all the men who came before you, but she assures you they deserved it. You are worthy of the love that all these other men never managed to merit.

She’s such a wonderful wimminz, who has been the victim of a long series of misfortunes. Won’t you help her achieve her potential?

If you grew up in Canada — within the last forty years — you would know who this character is. His name is Bill Leeb, and he was one of the founding members of Skinny Puppy. Early on, he spun off his own side-projects, Front Line Assembly and Delerium.

The Canadian music scene in the 1980s was as dreary as the American status-quo, and not too much different. Teenagers generally listened to Loverboy or Rush, along with typical American metal bands like Cinderella and Ratt. Everything on the radio was boring, and it all sounded the same.

In the America of the mid 1980s, bands like Soundgarden, Alice In Chains, and Mudhoney started emerging in the Seattle area. Much of the allure was the authentic tone and content of the music. At about the same time, and for all the same reasons, industrial music started becoming popular in Vancouver, B.C.. While the historical phenomenon and its motivations was similar, the music kids gravitated to was very different on either side of the frontier. Canadian industrial music is nothing like earthy, stripped-down, folk-inspired grunge music. It was inspired by the European EBM and house music, exemplified by Front 242, Kraftwerk and Cabaret Voltaire.

Industrial music was a later import to the United States, though it always had a limited appeal, and American industrial artists were always pretty honest about where they got their ideas.

Skinny Puppy and Front Line Assembly still exist, and their founders still make music, despite being considerably older than I am. (At this point, I think they qualify for the senior discounts.) Being that I’m a sentimental fucker, I buy all the new releases. So it was a couple weeks ago, when I bought Front Line Assembly’s new CD, entitled Wake Up The Coma.

So I’m listening to this album today, and trying to make out the lyrics. I realize that the Bill Leeb is singing about all the same sorts of shit that I do, here on this blog.

That can’t be right, I think, this is decadent pop culture garbage… 

I always default to the position that I’m reading, listening, or sensing anything through my own ideological lens, so I try not to take things like this too seriously. Even so, the messages on this album are so explicit that I decided to take a few minutes and see if I could type out some lyrics, and run them by you brothers.

Is Bill Leeb a candidate for mayor of V5K 2C2? You tell me.

I feel your face on my skin
Depraved sleeper cell you fit right in

Faceless atomic deviants
Oppressive hysterical obedience
Autonomous swarms
Of secret drones
Skull mined warfare
Erotic zones

I feel your face on my skin
Depraved sleeper cell you fit right in
I feel your face on my skin
Perverted visions and erotic sins

I’m making love to an alien
Who’s not from this world
I’m making love to an alien
I thought you were my girl

In the wake of adversity
We gaze into the sun to see
All of our lifes imperfections
Unrequited love and rejection
The light of fools steers our path
Unseen by all and those who fall
This blackend hole
Which you made for me
Image intelligence
Won’t set us free

I’m living the lie
And I don’t know why
Its easier to pretend
When you know it has to end

This is the end

In the realm of the dying sun
No salvation surveillance begun
A state of hypocrisy
Fuck an alien and you’ll be free
Obsessive, toxic obedience

Lies, lies

Faceless atomic deviants
In the wake of adversity
Fuck an alien and you’ll be free

Living a lie, a lie.
Fuck an alien, and you’ll be free…

 

What did he mean by this?

If Bill Leeb is based and redpilled on the wimminz question, how did he get that way? I have a theory based on the results of a one-second google search.

Around fifteen years ago, Leeb was served divorce papers by his wife, Carylann Loeppky. I don’t know if it’s possible for any legal system to be worse than America’s, but if there is some facet of the divorce process that can be more excessively cruel to men, it’s likely that Canadian wimminz have instituted it in British Columbia. The result: Leeb had to sell a bunch of high-end hardware, to pay off his bitch ex-wife.

I guess I wondered why this guy was still cranking out music when he’s crowning seventy. Ongoing payments to his skank-ho ex are a fair assumption, in context.

About the album, Leeb not only alluded to talking about wimminz, but also taking a Francis Fukuyama-esque take on the historical imperative and technology…

Divorce has pushed this man into questioning not only the nature of contemporary gender roles, but also the more general questions (atomization, degeneracy, reification) we all discuss here on a regular basis.

In the end, I find mirth in the fact that hundreds of stupid, pink-haired Canadian wimminz are going to be stomping and dancing in their thigh-highs to this tune, all summer long.

Wake Up The Coma is available from Metropolis Records. Buy it if you like it. Leeb’s ex-wife will thank you.

Earlier I honored one of this post-code’s most dedicated critics, a wimminz who calls herself ‘sue,’ and who has posted almost daily, for several months, in a vain attempt to garner some attention from all you brothers. Such people are useful, even when they are unable to make a sound argument in support of their positions. As such, I decided to allow ‘sue’ to make an occasional rage-poast, in case one of you brothers wants to fulfill her masochistic abuse fantasies.

This week, ‘sue’ has appeared to mock and jeer the unfortunates who find themselves victims of opioid addiction.

Sue’s point, that wimminz never become junkies, is hardly credible.

Even so, I think there’s some general sentiments behind Sue’s inane babbling that I can get behind. Escapism is for the weak. If you are hooked on some substance, then getting rid of that backmonkey will be your greatest achievement. Brother Jason can probably give better advice about kicking bad habits, but in a pinch, one can also call the National Drug Helpline (+1 888 633 3239) for local assistance. For similar reasons, if you are connected (through blood or marriage) to a self-destructive junkie, then keeping him or her at arm’s length while finding outside help would also be advised.

Keep these wonderfully bright, helpful, interesting poasts coming, sue. Poast more! Poast more now!