American females, particularly hardened White and Black feminist wimminz, are quick to celebrate their victory over patriarchy and civilization, but their celebratory rantings don’t ever seem to touch upon how the typical empowered sister copes with reality.
Wimminz are increasingly binge-drinking themselves to death.
Fables about beautiful women who will become good wives are regularly debunked here, and in the interest of complete honesty and self-criticism, I’m prepared to tell my readers about one of the clever wimminz who came disturbingly close to catching ya boy in her fishtrap.
Back in July, I talked about her briefly, in a comment, here:
I met a woman recently (may or may not be a wimminz, but she’s doing a good job luring me with the illusion that she is decent). Long legs, very nice figure, keeps fit, African-American, great bubble ass, hair is not weaved out, but is not butch cut either – six inch braids in her fro. She speaks nicely, dresses modestly, no skank-ho tatts, claims to be a virgin (and for once, I think I believe her), Catholic and wants Boxer to do RCIA and quit being a male skank-ho slut if he’s serious about dating her…
In August, said hot black chick suddenly disappeared after much doting. Such is the way things always go… until two weeks ago, when she suddenly reappeared. She has been desperate to meet up with my ass for several days, and has been sending fawning texts nearly every morning to that effect.
While I had assumed that she got bored of waiting for me to commit, her immediate eruption into the status-quo suggests something much more interesting, and carnal.
I’m meeting her in a few hours for lunch. In the interim, can anyone predict the future-past and tell me what Shaniqua has been up to? I’m sure one of you boys can divine it. My guess is encoded in the title to this article. Either way, I look forward to a very entertaining afternoon.
As a proud male feminist, I have accepted the fact that my masculinity is something to be ashamed of, and that all my actions are irrelevant, given that all men are rapists.
Down below, Heidi nominates a woman named Brittany Pilkington, as this month’s feminist hero. What did our proud sister Brittany do? She exercised her “right to choose,” and retroactively aborted her three young sons, one after another.
Why did our hero do the deed? Let’s hear her tell it…
Do not conflate “Kim” here with the last chick, who finally took the hint at some point yesterday, and quit responding to my endless flaking. This is a new Tinder slut, desperate to land a chump in time for Christmas morning.
For the record, every woman I string along has a number of common qualities. I am only fucking with women who have already divorced a good man and stolen his children. Not that this makes me any more noble, but I do have some standards.
Older dogs who socialize with us, in the 45-60 range, should consider setting up a phony profile (you can easily get a pic here) and join me in trolling the 20-something divorcée crowd. It’s fun, you know you want to, and they deserve it.
Some men foolishly believe that a marginal chance to tap some fat, smelly ass is worth the humiliation of publicly declaring your own allegiance to feminism. Take a lesson from old Bob, here. Standing up for feminists will not serve your interests.
Feminists hate men and want them ruined. Getting their attention will only make you a target.
Read and learn, boys…
Derek Ramsey’s important work on dysgenesis is now categorized separately from the rest of the nonsense on tap here. His articles can be pulled up and read as a series by using this link.
Gunner Q is hosting a critical analysis of Derek’s dysgenesis series at his blog. You can read his exegesis and various comments using this link.
Remember to show respect for the host if you enter another man’s lair, for such is a timeless tenet of patriarchy.
For three full years now, I’ve entered the holiday season convinced that I’m going to let my subscription lapse. It irks me to keep funding WordPress — even more now that their parent company has merged with the feminist Tumblr platform. Even so, Derek’s middlebrow articles give me an excuse to kick in my paltry contribution to our deadly enemies, in return for the privilege of using their own infrastructure to lampoon them.
I’ve taken to playing a game which is simultaneously fun and effective with the holiday hoez on the internet dating sites.
Her: 26, one kid, recently divorced after a 2 year marriage.
Me: y’r pal Boxer, hardcore misogynist.
Setting: text messaging, after matching on one of the silly phone apps.
I always ask the question what are you actually looking for within the first five minutes.
What she says she’s looking for is someone who could “start as friends” and “see where things go…” She lied. She says that she wants an LJBF, rather than the regular sexual encounter that she pretended to want on the banging site.
What she’s actually looking for are a large group of men who endlessly chase her, in hopes that she will choose one or more of them. The manosphere will clue you in to this, and it’s true. Unfortunately, the manosphere will then immediately lie to you, and tell you that if you accept this lowly position, you will never, ever get that ass.
Back when I was a young and naïve lad, I took the offer to become a slut’s LJBF quite frequently. I almost always got some mediocre sex, but only after an endless series of encounters punctuated by lies, flaking, demands, wasting money, etc.
When I got clued in (thanks to AfOR and Roosh V.) I began nexting wimminz like this immediately. That changed recently, as you can see above.
What I’ve started doing is reflexively messing with these bitches, by calling their hand and telling them I’m looking for someone to marry. I could excuse this descent into dishonesty with a series of good for the goose rationalizations, but I won’t. I’ll just tell you that it amuses me to do so. It has the effect of flipping the script, as I see the thirsty bitch immediately take the bait and begin kissing my ass in an attempt to take her seriously.
Of course, as she drops ever more frequent and transparent hints about meeting in the real world, I drop ever more ambiguous hints about looking for a wife, and not a friend, and wishing her well in her search for a celibate groveler.
It’s the holiday season. I know, because I’m starting to see men’s rights and MGTOW web sites declare as much, and in the same sentence, they’ll tell me about how our liberation from feminism is right around the corner. Nevermind the fact that they’ve been posting identical shit every single year since I started reading such web sites, which would have been something like 2007. Unlike the rest of them, I’m not going to lie to you. Nah, I have some practical advice for the lonely hearts, instead.
’round about mid October, I got my ass on Plenty of Rotten Tuna, OKStupid, Stumble, Snatch dot Com, Bender, and all the similar sites, just to enjoy the show; and, what a show it is, too.
Every desperate slut within 500 miles has suddenly regained interest in a relationSHIT, conveniently right before the holidays, when they’re suddenly confronted with the fact that they’re alone and no one likes their dumb asses.
As much as we may like to deny it, there are certainly male correlates to the holiday wimminz on the dating sites. Just as Jane is ready to get down on all fours to take dick in return for not looking like a total loser to her parents at Christmas dinner, so is John ready to suffer through dinner at Jane’s father’s house, in order to get some cunt.
It might not even be sexual. Maybe he just wants a few facebook profile photos to show his skank-ho ex that he can pull a better looking piece of ass. Whatever his motivations, it is wild season on the internet.
So I’ve been hitting lots of new holes in the past few weeks, and striking out with orders of magnitude more than I land. Such is the way of the holiday hoez. And I don’t have any doubt that I’m not the only one.
Of course, if you are one of those nearsighted men who wants a relationSHIT at this time of the year, you might be deceived by the scarcity of responses in light of the overwhelming traffic. A few things you will want to remember, my brothers.
In the first place, you aren’t going to find a decent woman on the internet. The decent girls don’t get on Tinder or Bumble, because they don’t need to. What you will find on the internet are beyond being called prostitutes. A professional skank-ho at least has the dignity to perform a competent service, with a minimum of hassles, and leave when the transaction is concluded.
None of the skank-ho bitches you meet on the internet are worthy of a decent man’s time or attention. A more meaningful relationship can be fostered with a cat or dog, and there are plenty of those down at the shelter. You may have to feed a pet, but that pet will not fuck your friends, wreck your car, or sue you for lifetime alimony.
Every bitch on the fucking sites has taken miles of cock, and no matter how sweet or innocent little Janie looks in her profile photos, it’s a safe bet that she sees you as nothing more than a new piece of furniture, to be used only so long as you continue to be amusing, and to be discarded the moment you become inconvenient.
So you can start crying tears at the fact that little Janie has quit responding to your messages, and send her ever more invitations to connect, making yourself look more like a thirsty simp. Or you can message Susie, Staci, Josie and Amy, and let one or more of them worship your cock, until that day that little Janie decides she actually does want a new rocking chair (with penis attached) and finally calls you up.
You can be absolutely certain that you are not the first chair that little Janie has lowered herself onto — in fact, your turn will most likely be in the mid three digits. No matter how tough you might be, or what a good earner you are, little Janie has already seen every simp move you can make, and your lovesick messages telling her how she’s “the one” is about as interesting to her as a Star Trek rerun.
When I was a little boy, I just assumed I would get married and have a wife, in whom I could confide things, through whom I would get children, and with whom I would build a complete life. Of course, when I was that age, I also assumed I’d get a flying car, just like the ones I saw on the Blade Runner movie, and I assumed that I’d be able to take a trip to Jupiter, just like I saw in 2001: A Space Odyssey.
I can keep wishing it were so, and by extension, wishing that I could bring back the innocent mentality of little Boxer who was naïve enough to build such mental castles-in-the-sky, and the minute I act on such immature wishes, I have set myself up as prey for a wimminz, who will eventually divide my life’s work up between herself, the state, and a bunch of scroungy divorce attorneys.
Or I can live in the real world, and accept the material conditions on the ground as they actually exist. Life is not all bad here. After work yesterday, I met Angie, and fucked her hard. Then I went directly from her house to Rachel’s, and after a late dinner, I fucked that bitch, too.
Angie texted me this morning, wanting to fuck again this weekend. Rachel texted me this morning, telling me that I was an asshole, and warning me to shape up or she’ll quit talking to me. I texted Angie back, in a noncommittal way, and ignored Rachel. Stacy also texted me, inviting me to her place on Saturday. I’ll probably accept.
Happy Halowe’en. Happy Veteran’s Day. In case I don’t see y’all, Happy Thanksgiving.
A woman wants a nice man, a man who will open doors for her, a man who treats her with respect at all times. A woman wants a gentleman who will let her trod his jacket, rather than muddy her toe. A woman would never give up the ass to a rude jerk…
She’s now very happy in a new relationship…
The 23-year-old begged with Magistrates to impose an anonymity order on her trial to keep her case out of the public eye. Glencross’ lawyer Shelley Buchecker said there were multiple Facebook posts showing her client could be in danger following the savage beating. Goolang Magistrates’ Court, in Victoria, Australia, threw out the application under the presumption of open justice. It was ruled she would have to live with ‘demeaning and humiliating’ posts on social media after finding no evidence of threat among the messages. Open justice is based on the fundamental principle that the actions of the courts should be transparent to the public.
Apparently, there is one judge in Australia with the guts to say ‘no’ to the ho’. Good for him (or her).
Read more here.