Sunday, January 31, 2010

For What It's Worth

Soundtrack to this Post: For What It's Worth

Rewind to last night:
Headed out despite the onset of snow. A car nearly cut mine in half after dinner. 2 wheel drive sedans make for dangerous fellow drivers amidst inclement weather.

Slightly cracked lips and craving attention:

Posted up with some buddies from the rogues gallery in tow after a short cab ride in the showering of snow flakes. Some girls behinds us giggled and motioned our way nervously. I rolled my eyes. It was some girl's birthday. I overshot guessing her age despite trying to get it right and opting out of a neg. She took it as such. She was older than me, but half as pretty. Her quasi troll like mannish faced friend worked in the same field as your humble narrator. I make a point to not discuss work when I'm not like, y'know, at fucking work. She rolled right over my comments stating such. She was so excited a pretty man with semi style was in her field and she actually had some conversational threat. I kept stating how much I don't like to discuss work.

The troll walked away for a minute and a waitress friend of mine said, " *****, you're too pretty for her." The rest of the table nodded in agreement. I not so nonchalantly avoided the troll when she returned. By this time the several liquor drinks were setting in. Alas, I'd been such a good boy for the last few weeks. I made my way to another bar after excusing myself from the older looking than she is birthday girl and the troll as my buddies had left already whilst I waited for my tab. I'm not sure what I said when asked for my phone number but it didn't involve giving it out.

Found my rogues gallery members and some bartender asked me why I no longer frequented ***** bar. I told her I hadn't frequented much bars as of late. She told me to give her a call sometime. I told her I would ( I won't). Some other girl grabbed me by the arm and asked for my scarf. I briskly refused and faked shock that she would suggest such a thing.

At some point, I was in a cab on my way home.
Spent an hour the next day to get a cab to my car...where I subsequently spent an hour getting it un-entrenched from the snow/ice in the parking lot. I had strange dreams of my sibling banging some gothic vampire and riding rollercoasters while shooting automatic weapons and RPG's....the likes of which I shuddered and shook away over coffee amidst my powerful hangover of epic proportions.

Idle hands are the devil's plaything.
My apathy as of late continues unabated and powerful in its constant frequency. I am waiting again to feel moved. When I spy with my little eye that which I seek....the fingers upon the chords to my being will vibrate and shudder.....

-With Greatest Affection

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Soccer Mom

....and Beckham still got outed for having an affair mid-marriage.


Not sure how I got home? Check.
Don't remember the end of the night? Check.
Hungover? Check.

Cognizant of the void? Check.

What I'm watching: NSFW!

Friday, January 29, 2010

Thoughts on Single-dom and the Endless Cycle

Soundtrack to this post: Girl and the Sea by the Presets

Been single for awhile now. Awhile for me is like a few weeks, FYI. Longtime readers know this well, but for the new members of my flock, that qualifier proves necessary.

Opportunities to flirt and receive introduction to friends of girls I know have come and gone. Part of this apathy stems from the following. I'll meet some girl. She will be interested. I will not act aloof, but simply be aloof b/c I don't feel the urge to facade the effort necessary to play "just the tip". She'll say she understands my busy schedule, make up how she's busy scheduling work, and yoga, and unicorn rides or whatever girls publicly claim they do to sound too busy to follow/date a guy within a few days of meeting him initially. Likely what she spends her time doing is martini night with the girls, watching Redbox rented movies, Ugly Betty, Grey's Anatomy/whatever other lameass generic TV programming with terrible writing is the shit you have to watch to be able to discuss with with the coterie of other girls.

Within a few weeks, she will gripe. She will bribe with sex or a blowjob to tempt me from the gym and training. She will act slightly pouty when I demure. The hotter and/or bitchier she is, the more she will pout with seriousness and or feel resentment. She will debate making a comment about my going to get sweaty and hit other guys is gay. If she's smart she will keep her mouth shut. If she tests me, I'll blow it off and do what I do (part of what attracted her to me in the first place).

She will slowly attempt to acquire more of my time, despite that allegedly busy schedules she pretended to have when we first met. My schedule is what I said it is. She will see me after training and/or on part of the weekend but likely no other time. She will schedule something without asking me first. This is a test. I may demure and go unless I have plans I had not mentioned to her. Plans that didn't include her. I may even attend part of said event, then midway leave and do my shit I had planned. Her friends will vocally complain and act like they would not have tolerated such a thing. Ah. the fallacy of the coterie rears its ugly head.

I'll likely imagine some other chick whilst we have sex at some point depending on how hot she is/how much she is my type, relative to the previous ratio. We will share tender moments eventually, depending on how pleasant and kind she is. There will be a window when I may develop what might be deemed meaningful affection for her. She will fuck this up in some manner. I will attempt to avoid this by not ever asking her about her past. I won't ask b/c I don't want to fucking know. She will likely press me for information on an ex we see, something she heard from someone...thinking/claiming that by knowing my past she better knows me. Idiot.

This will breed jealousy and insecurity with predictable consequences. She will then debate checking facebook, scouring my phone, or even perhaps nonchalantly glancing at my email when I open it. She will think that I don't notice, but I will only pretend not to notice. I will never go through her stuff nor ask around about her.

She will note how I regard children, my older set of friends, how her friends regard me, and my remarkable ability to interact socially. The hamster wheel will begin to spin. She will likely claim that she doesn't want to get married, the end all be all failsafe trump card attempt at reverse psychology. She will have begun nesting and actually preferring that I leave some of my things at her place though she will bemoan the mess and likely make smart remarks about my stuff.

I will likely cheat at some point, though not when she assumes I have. She will likely catch me and she will likely wish to continue seeing me. Though, things will have irrevocably changed. She will ask why? and why wasn't she enough? She will internalize it as her fault, unable to process that things we do are not the entire measure of who we are...and that no one person can fill the void in another. If not cheating means being bored and resenting the trap.....I'll take cheating over the alternative.

Things will end in a trainwreck of some degree.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
As it is....I'm not looking. I don't have the stomach or the desire for starting the cycle again just yet.
Good luck and happy hunting this weekend my faithful readers. Your humble narrator goes forth as always. Hoist the black flag. It's when you're not looking you find things.

- With Greatest Affection

Consumerism/Society of Fear/Falsity in Media

Phone rings.....

Mom: ***, you know it's going to snow tonight, right?
Me: I'll believe it when it starts.
Mom: ***, this is serious. They are saying it will snow several inches. We may be snowed in.
Me: I wonder how mankind ever survived for thousands of years without buildings and roads and such....especially with the specter that is snow.
Mom: This is serious. Stop being difficult.
Me: I'm just saying 10 times a year, they come on the TV every 10 min's saying it's a winter storm...and one of those 10 times every few years it will actually be bad enough that we'll stay off the roads for part of one day.
Mom: Well, I'm going to the store to stock up.
Me: *Sigh*

My mom doesn't donate money to child hookers in Bangladesh. She doesn't donate money to victims of terrorism....but mention a winter fuckin' storm that hasn't even occurred and watch the purse strings loosen.

Ugh. I'm disgusted by the weather hysteria on the TV.

Media and advertisers realized long ago that nothing gets people buying shit like hurricanes and/or snow storms.

Terrorism? People (other than militias) aren't prepping for that shit.

Bin Laden must really be tired of talking about our decadence. In a new tape, Bin Laden's blaming CLIMATE CHANGE on the United States. OMG. I almost fell out of my chair in my office reading that to myself. Wow.

Katrina Volume 2.0 - Raping of women in Haiti claims begin....verification? None.
Call me a cynic...but here is the "proof" offered in the article:
"I heard a fight outside, and I saw panties on the ground," she said. "I started to shout a lot, and they left."

WOW. This is the standard of proof by which you can publish an article to be read by thousands of people across the globe...."
Figures for the number of crimes were not available but women's organizations have already detailed a number of cases and alerted the United Nations mission in Haiti....". A number of crimes? A number of cases? We won't say how many, though you can bet if it was anywhere NEAR substantial they'd be spouting it in every major news organization...but they aren't. So we can safely assume it is a very low number, otherwise they'd be milking it for all its worth.

And in some last bit of total bullshit. Whoopi comments on Matthews "forgot he was black" comment....this is the same Whoopi that said Polanski didn't commit "rape rape".

Thursday, January 28, 2010


Pashtun men in Afghanistan "use men for sexual gratification" yet reject the term "homosexual".

Reminds me of Elizabethan attitudes towards Homosexuality. I stand by my theory that little of human nature has notably changed. The same urges in response or rather in spite of different environmental factors/cultures.

If you saw the Kite Runner, that was a candy coated version of the tribal conflicts in Afghanistan over young boys as possessions and the practice of "bacha bazi".

Disturbing interview here.

Good thing we're working to bring them democracy over there...especially when all reports indicate it's the warlords, high up gov't officials...and rural generals that often partake in the practice of "men with no beards" (boys).

If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck....quacks like a's a pedo.

Momma's Boy Awakening

Like many boys/men who socially know how to interact with women, I was predominately raised by my mother. My father was this itinerant figure who was off "at work", and beyond the childhood prereq's of how to ride a bike, hit a ball, throw a football...he was often busy working 2 jobs to provide the things my brother and I were socialized to want through media and commercials during Saturday morning cartoons. If I were to tabulate the sheer hours my father has worked versus my is probably hundreds to one. Seriously. He has likely worked more than a hundred hours if not more to every one hour my mother has spent employed.

Recently, I had a fight with my mother. She was bemoaning the house, my father's stuff being there "in her way" whilst he works out of state as a consultant. She complained that he just "drops in" every few weeks while she has to "deal with the house."

As a boy growing up, coddled by my mother and influenced by media, I felt a vast separation from my father and a closeness to my mother. My mother's reliance upon emotion rather than logic was not immediately apparent early on in my years. My father brought down the hammer and my mother was the shelter. In retrospect, I have grown into the man I am as a result of establishing my own male identity both by his absence and the example he set.

This has been a plus, not a minus.

I responded that my father had paid for the house. That he drops in because he routinely works 60 hours a week or more in a fucking cold upstate part of the US and that his stuff is in the house b/c he is busy working said hours in said upstate part of the US.

My mother gave pause. I could see the short circuits beginning. She decried my attitude and my being combative. I affirmed to her that I was speaking with a room level tone and was simply stating facts.

She bemoaned how much money she has. I pointed out that she opts to work the hours she does and opts to not work other hours/jobs as well.

I felt the chasm forming.
As a boy, when my mother got emotionally and physically volatile, my father, newly sober, would simply leave the house and return some 18 hours later. My mother's tempest had cooled and the house was quiet if not eerie.
As a teenager, when my mother would berate and berate (much of it deserved as my father whilst sober had become nearly intolerable as a person) and my father would simply sit and bear the brunt of it....I wondered why he no longer just walked out and came back later.

As a man, little has changed. There is the vast expanse of my parents "trying to make it work" that is now ending in a bitter divorce and fracturing of loyalty within our family. Lines are drawn. Sides chosen. I have chosen a side out of respect for the fact that she has been there since I was born. My biological father walked out and disappeared. However, I am coming to terms with the fact that all that glitters is not golden. Sympathy and love cannot turn a blind eye to emotional response and irrational behavior, framing of events/facts.
Not an hour after my fight with my mother the other night, she lamented her behavior and admitted she had been overly emotional. This was because I was the stone in the storm. I had not been sucked into the maelstrom of shouting and volatility. Principles of game have vast application in the world and in life. If you think being confident, trusting tested psychology from field experience, and consistency are only for picking up girls at are missing out on the greatest value.


Alito part of landmark change in campaign finance

Bush appointee Alito part of majority that approved the landmark change in campaign finance. Not that it's much of a change.....b/c let's be serious....large companies through lobbying organizations/firms have been paying for legislation...since, well, before the industrial revolution.

But's a brazen move where even the pretense that money buys favors has been eliminated.

How anyone can think that removing limits on donations and financing campaigns won't lead to more direct routes to buy political beyond me.

"The big thieves hang the little ones."

IN healthcare news....Pelosi doesn't care if the Senate of our representatives of citizens who will foot the bill won't vote for the healthcare reform bill.....wants to use a sidestep to circumvent a vote that they cannot win.

Why even bother electing representatives when the rules laid out to pass legislation aren't even followed consistently?

Tuesday, January 26, 2010


Soundtrack to this post: If I Know You by the Presets
Hit the gym and did my rounds like a champ. This chick I had sex with was there. Awkward for 1/78th of a second. The girl who works the front desk asked about my tattoo. Felt the acid burn of my muscles and the concrete oxygen filling my lungs. Headed home, got my last bit of cash out the bank, showered, threw on a V-Neck then met by rogues gallery member/wingman to play some trivia. Drank a couple beers...then an odd thing happened. I did not drink any further. My logical brain won out over any impulse to drink late into the night. ******************censored from prying eyes**************

I recalled that I had already spent a month in preparation for my next fight. I feared the hellacious hangover tomorrow would bring. Perhaps, I am getting older. Age is the wiser side of youth, as it were. Watched some party girls near the bar grind on some guys in the hopes of getting some free shots.

I pondered the divide between men and women. I've done far worse (as this blog's readers can attest) for free. Who am I to judge? Saw a guy that did his damnedest to set me up with his sister who attends a local college. She was cute. Just not cute enough.

To quote something I read somewhere in the blogosphere, a key that opens all locks is a skeleton key, a lock that any key will open is just a broken lock. Such is the case with women.

I already look to planning my weekend. It involves the following: Sushi. Guinness. PBR. Live MMA fights (a training partner's fighting). Downtown.

I feel a twinge of sympathy for the plastic actors and whom a good time is being seen, is having the "right" friends, the "right" car, going to the "right" bar....all that superficial bullshit. What a waste of breath, time, moments, and life.

My evenings this weekend will involve tasty spirits, semi-organized MMA violence, good friends, camaraderie that few can understand, and will remain devoid of seeking validation from strangers based on material possessions.

I can lock myself in the gym for a few more nights while the anticipation builds.
I've had some lows in the past few years. I've been between work. I've been sleepin' on my buddy's couch. I had to move back in with moms. I've woken up in the backseat of my car more times than I could count. I've spent my last dollar several weeks before payday.

My love of life and appreciation for my blessings continues unabated. I awaken with a smile any morning which brings coffee, work, training, and mayhap the company of an attractive woman.

Living's not so bad. I pity those that haven't found a passion for which they will bleed, sweat, and cry.

I'm still standing. Feast or famine bitches. In old age, many a man grows to fear the famine. He grows complacent. He grows unwilling to wager. He believes two in the hands is worth one in the bush. Perhaps, my words, this blog, and the ridiculous events it has chronicled are merely the hubris of my youth. Perhaps not. I have slowed in a a few ways, but my desire to press the envelope has not subsided.

My buddy asked me if I had any regrets earlier tonight. I paused and thought for a long moment. A part of me cursed this facet of me that chases thrills and drives me to self-destructive ways. But that part of me is what made me a fighter. The part of me that has cost me so dearly in my personal the part of me that won my last fight and 700 people cheered my name as the victor. My lust for thrill has been my strength and my weakness. I wouldn't have it any other way. I am not the natural athlete. I am not the prodigy. I am none of those things. I am the man that simply kept coming back to the gym despite all the ass whippings doled out.

Be who and what you are. Do not make excuses. Take the energy most people spend lying to themselves and embrace who/what you are.

No one has the fucking answers. That is the gift. If you had all the answers....there would be no journey. What would be the fucking point? I curse the notion such an existence ever might occur.
I don't want the answers. I wouldn't listen if you gave them to me on an itemized list. The journey is the joy.

This is what you are. This is what you were always going to become.
-With Greatest Affection

Freak Test

my good buddy Dr. J sent this my way......

Freak test
This is fun to do. Just read the 'offense' and if you've done it, you owe that fine.
You don't have to confess your answers, just the amount of your fine.
NOTE fines to be added once, not for how ever many times you have done it.

Lied -- .02
Smoked weed -- $10
Did acid -- $5
Shot steroids -- $45
Ever had sex at church -- $25
Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you -- $40
Had sex with someone on MySpace/Facebook/Bebo etc -- $25
Had sex for money -- $100
Ever had sex with a Puerto Rican -- $20
Vandalized something -- $20
Had sex on your parents' bed -- $10
Beat up someone -- $20
Been jumped -- $10
Cross dressed -- $10
Given money to stripper -- $25
Been in love with a stripper -- $20
Kissed someone who's name you didn't know -- $0.10
Hit on some one of the same sex while at work -- $15
Ever drive and drank -- $20
Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while still drunk -- $50
Used toys while having sex -- $30
Got drunk, passed out and don't remember the night before -- $20
Went skinny dipping -- $5
Had sex in a pool -- $20
Kissed someone of the same sex -- $10
Had sex with someone of the same sex -- $20
Cheated on your significant other -- $10
Masturbated -- $10
Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend -- $20
Done oral -- $5
Got oral -- $5
Done / got oral in a vehicle while it was moving -- $25
Stole something -- $10
Had sex with someone in jail -- $25
Made a nasty home video or took pictures -- $15
Had a threesome -- $50
Had sex in public -- $20
Been in the same room while someone was having sex --$25
Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars-- $20
Had sex with someone 10 years older -- $20
Had sex with someone under the age accepted by rule of thumb (half your age plus 7) -- $25
Been in love with two people or more at the same time-- $50
Said you love someone but didn't mean it -- $25
Went streaking -- $5
Went streaking in broad daylight -- $15
Been arrested -- $5
Spent time in jail -- $15
Pissed in the pool -- $0.50
Played spin the bottle -- $5
Done something you regret -- $20
Had sex with your best friend -- $20
Had sex with someone you work with at work -- $25
Had anal sex no homo -- $80
Had anal sex homo -- $90
Lied to your mate -- $5
Lied to your mate about the sex being good -- $25

Tally it up and put it on your status as: "My Fine Is..."

My fine is $915.32. Wow. That was a trip down memory lane.

Promises?, Unpopular Opinions, Gary Coleman, and Infanticide

Q&A real fast: Who said the following?
"Let me say this as plainly as I can - by August 31 2010, our combat mission in Iraq will end."

hint hint: he's pushing universal healthcare whilst also taking on trillions in debt to our nation.

I still find it humorous a man leading a nation fighting two wars won the Nobel Peace Prize.
Wow. I mean, you couldn't write that kind of satire if you tried.

In other news, if your significant other is female, and you're (male) Gary Coleman (yeah, lil' Webster), and she locks you outof the house and trashes the inside....take it like a man. However, if later you decide to curse her out'll get a disorderly conduct charge. Yeah. Really. If you didn't already, click the link above. That is a demonic lookin' lil' Webster to be sure.

In slightly more shocking news abroad..... set aside (y)our critical eye of the female gender and consider the following:
A UK woman killed her brain damaged son to end his suffering. What say you court of public opinion?

Not even a hundred years ago this was routine practice in even Japan (known by the term "mabiki") where the child was often smothered. Terminating children unfit or unwanted or unable to be supported by an already large family has been human practice for thousands of years. Only in the past few decades has this become some sort of moral crisis. Interestingly enough, in Japan's history in particular, this was not targeted b/c of poverty or necessity, but often as the preferred method of family planning and gender/ratio balancing.

The more things change....we think of illegitimacy and women running around/children out of wedlock as a sort of new dawn in the collapse of western's not The UK's 18th and 19th centuries are littered with court cases concerning young, impoverished servant girls bearing children out of wedlock who then killed them.
A lot of what the MRA movement deems some sort of change in women brought about by feminism is 1) not a change from the past hundreds of years, and 2) therefore not a result of feminism, but rather men within the MRA assuming causation by incorrectly thinking there is some new effect found in society.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Kat-, Katr-, Katrin-......Haiti

Remember the early estimates that 10's of thousands were dead and dying in the streets of Lousianna, that rape gangs were roaming the streets and the football stadium had turned into a grisly morgue/rape dungeon/cannibal parlor...then it turned out little more than 1,000 people died as a result and NONE of the above was true? ....this stands in contrast to the clamoring for add'l deaths not directly attributed to the hurricane that the AP used to inflate the number....and doesn't include the rampant increase in violence the surrounding states witnessed after the mass exodus of Lousianna residents. Interestingly enough, if you search the web, it's actually kinda' difficult to find many of those original apocalypse/genocide/death toll articles that wildly circulated shortly following the storm.

Sources here if you've forgotten the wild exaggerations:
Outright Lies

For the humorous take on events via the Onion, read here.

If this can be grossly exaggerated in the US....then in Haiti, where reporters have to actually like, fly there, get off a plane, leave the airport....and drive around in Haiti...already a fucking dangerous place before the earthquake.....then mark my words: the real number of deaths in Haiti is much lower than the numbers being qtd. as buried in a mass gave near Port Au Prince.

In other news...when Obama's term is up....keep these things in mind depending on how you feel about the deficit and party lines when it comes to economics:
  • On March 14, 2008, then Sen. Obama voted in favor of the 2009 budget which authorized $3.1 trillion in federal outlays along with a projected $400 billion deficit. The 51-44 vote that morning was strongly along party lines with only two Republicans saying "Yes."
  • When the final conference report was presented to the House on June 5, not one Republican voted for it.
  • This means the 2009 budget was almost exclusively approved by Democrats, with "Yeas" coming from Obama, his Vice President Joe Biden, his Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel, and his Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.
  • On March 14, 2008, then Sen. Obama voted in favor of the 2009 budget which authorized $3.1 trillion in federal outlays along with a projected $400 billion deficit. The 51-44 vote that morning was strongly along party lines with only two Republicans saying "Yes."

    AND in a final bit of doubletalk: ""I don't think an ideology should be fought through constraining measures but through ideas," Mohammed Moussaoui, the head of a coalition of Muslim organizations, said in an interview. "It's very difficult to talk about the liberation of women through a law that constrains.""
    - the above is a Muslim saying that a law banning women from wearing the veil to cover their faces is a law that the edict that socially they should cover their faces to all but their husband and family members....odd.
  • On March 14, 2008, then Sen. Obama voted in favor of the 2009 budget which authorized $3.1 trillion in federal outlays along with a projected $400 billion deficit. The 51-44 vote that morning was strongly along party lines with only two Republicans saying "Yes."
  • When the final conference report was presented to the House on June 5, not one Republican voted for it.
  • This means the 2009 budget was almost exclusively approved by Democrats, with "Yeas" coming from Obama, his Vice President Joe Biden, his Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel, and his Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.
  • On March 14, 2008, then Sen. Obama voted in favor of the 2009 budget which authorized $3.1 trillion in federal outlays along with a projected $400 billion deficit. The 51-44 vote that morning was strongly along party lines with only two Republicans saying "Yes."
  • When the final conference report was presented to the House on June 5, not one Republican voted for it.
  • This means the 2009 budget was almost exclusively approved by Democrats, with "Yeas" coming from Obama, his Vice President Joe Biden, his Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel, and his Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.

  • Remember all those speeches saying "no increase in taxes for the middle class in America" that Obama made.....suckers.
  • On March 14, 2008, then Sen. Obama voted in favor of the 2009 budget which authorized $3.1 trillion in federal outlays along with a projected $400 billion deficit. The 51-44 vote that morning was strongly along party lines with only two Republicans saying "Yes."
  • When the final conference report was presented to the House on June 5, not one Republican voted for it.
  • This means the 2009 budget was almost exclusively approved by Democrats, with "Yeas" coming from Obama, his Vice President Joe Biden, his Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel, and his Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.
  • Sunday, January 24, 2010

    Black Liner Run

    “In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o' clock in the morning, day after day.”

    “Writers aren't exactly people...they're a whole lot of people trying to be one person.”

    A quiet, stolen moment. Darkness. In a familiar place. A familiar feeling. Emotion and depth pouring forth in a spasm. Welling up and spilling out.

    A different day. A different hat. For awhile it fits well. Worn and comfortable, the escape sustains itself for a time. Something else....more than nostalgia....some nearly tangible element of feeling strums across the chords of his soul. Eventually the mask slips and the awareness of the truth returns. The truth that this is not an exit. This is not a ride which you will disembark. The outward visage remains for the world to see. The turmoil within begins anon.

    The dichotomy of detachment and distance paired with unwavering acceptance of impulse and desire. Two sides of the same coin flipped over and over again in the tumblers of fatalism and the maelstrom of madness.

    In non-vague/ambiguous wording on healthcare.....

    Saturday, January 23, 2010

    The One Admitted Male Prossie in Nevada/ Last Night Rewind

    I intended to take a break from blogging this weekend, but I HAD TO POST THIS.

    First legal male prossie in America
    . Doesn't he just look five alarm raging on fire gay? (spare me the flame emails. it's not like you come here for PC verbiage).

    The fact that there is literally only one legal/admitted male hooker on the payroll in Nevada...tells you the sexual differences in men/women. IE: it is only financially viable to have one on staff.

    To hear women talk nowadays though....women can be just like men when it comes to sex.

    Sure when they think about whacking off onto a couple young euro chicks who claim and appear to enjoy double penetration.......when chicks start thinking about stuff like that they can claim they are like men when it comes to sex.

    Highlights from last night's jaunt downtown and parts unknown:
    - seeing my first girlfriend's now husband walk by and his waiting for me to recognize him. I didn't until I looked closer as my buddy pointed out some guy was staring at me. Sorry, I don't look closely at dudes I don't know on a first name basis nor recognize at a glance.

    - the bored and lifeless expression on his wife's face as the reality of banging the same beer gut forming guy that will eventually look a lot like her father set in during the course of a few beers. I could have walked over and said "hi" and bullshitted through small talk that was meaningless....but I didn't feel like putting forth the minimal effort required. I opted to sip my beer and play "around the room"

    - running into an ********* girl I briefly dated back in college. Small world. Awesomeness.

    - a bartender friend introducing me to her Asian friend that reminded me of Dater X :)

    - my buddy asking if I had dibs on my bartender friend to which I told him happy hunting.

    - running into another girl I opted out of banging awhile back b/c I just wasn't into her. Her boobs had gotten bigger. Like a raccoon, my eyes were distracted by the shiny for a few seconds.

    - running into a buddy's younger brother who's now married. he was excited about buying a house. I just sorta nodded and put on my best agreement face with a plastic smile.

    - noting the overdressed girls in semi-expensive dresses and heels

    - downing tallboy PBR's with my buddy

    Friday, January 22, 2010

    Valen-, Valenti-......Victory Day (not for men)

    It's coming gentleman. There's even a movie already in commercials for all the saps out there straddled to a woman who makes less of the money but spends more of it and determines how what she doesn't directly spend should be spent better (in her mind).
    The market onslaught and date night which looms on the horizon is frightening. February 14th looms like some coming dark time when even if you are not directly the target of the plague, you will feel its effects and see its forthcoming aftermath for several days before/leading up to the night of sacrifice and appeasement.

    Fortunately, for the first time in well, like years....I don't have a date nor someone who can rightfully expect that I splurge for said expected date as randomly selected by greeting card companies like hallmark, diamond cartels, demented florists, and the sugar industry/chocolate moguls.

    It should be called victory day. Another victory for the emasculation of humanoids genetically deemed "men". Another day of guys bending over for some righteous pegging/butt pounding by the women dominating their lives or some chick who needs crack (validation) in the form of getting some guy to spend money on her.

    However, an interesting quandry presents itself. As (single) girls get closer to the day, their hitched friends are already voided. If they want to do a group/couple thing (based on the girl's friends, not the guy's of course...that would be ridiculous), she has to find a date.

    This means that virtually any semi-publicly tolerable man that can stutter words, button up a semi-fitting dress shirt or throw a polo in the dryer to de-wrinkle it, will do. Be careful both this weekend and the next gentlemen.
    There are 3 weekends, well 2 full weekends and the friday before the big day in which meeting single women will NOT be under the usual pretexts.
    The single 'ladies' are vigilant for some dude, some where, desperate enough to think that taking her out on V-day will make her more likely to be romantic (read that: sexual in manspeak). Do not MAKE THIS ASSUMPTION, MEN.

    In girlsperanto, a guy you meet and genuinely like before V-day could be "the one"!
    However, he just as easily could simply be some guy you meet that doesn't cut the snuff but takes you out to dinner/buys you shit, is a great punchline to slash and burn for years afterward with the girls over martinis. "Remember that one guy I let take me out for Valentine's day?!??!"

    Guys. Do. Not. Be. The. Punchline.

    Stay home and beat off....or head out the days prior, and enjoy the throng of girls nursing battered egos and jealousy from watching (in their minds) their less attractive friends go out to eat at some overpriced fondue restaurant.

    I feel a moment of something...not melancholy...not sympathy...for the untold men, divorcees, men supporting an ex-wife who's now bangin' some other dude....all the untold penises sitting at home on February 14th. Play some Halo. Watch some foreign chicks do anal. Have the (admittedly) few male friends who are single over to do man shit like play cards, get drunk on the couch or go to a strip club. - quick thought- does going to a strip club on V-Day make it any more possibly kinda whack? Methinks not. It's like a carnival game. You know it's a rip off. It is what it is. As long as you don't go in with the illusion that you'll come out a winner.

    At any rate......for the younger class of men....not suffering from post traumatic stress flashbacks from divorce court proceedings...go out and spit some game at who ever's out, enjoy the sight of the guys laying down cold, hard cash for girls they've already slept with...hell, the guys who think that money is what get you laid......then walk right on by the window of that restaurant you don't care to eat at in the first place, saddle up at the bar, and spend that money on some booze and a good time with whatever single friends that haven't bit the dust. Can't put a price on a good time motherfuckers. Hoist the black flag.
    -With Greatest Affection

    ....what's that honey? you say your drink tastes funny? it must have gotten warm at the store.

    "You go girl"....when it should be "Homewrecker"

    Here's the story.

    The short of it? A mistress ran billboards to embarrass her lover after he reconciled with his wife.
    The billboard should read homewrecker somewhere in the fine print. Apparently, she wasn't angered when he was cheating on his wife with her for a majority of the 8 1/2 year affair...just somewhere at the end her attitude changed.

    Thursday, January 21, 2010

    News that's Literature Related

    Edwards Admits Paternity

    Why do I care? The woman with whom Edwards had the affair was the admitted real-life basis for McInerney's Allison Poole, protagonist of "Story of my Life". She would later feature in B. Easton Ellis's "American Psycho" and before that in "Glamorama".

    Love it when my faves make the news in one fashion or another. :)

    Odds & Ends

    - watching guys pursue my mom like there are no women left on earth. my mom can hook 'em like it's not even funny. guess I got my charm from her.

    - watching my mom opt out of raping my ******* in the divorce even tho' he all but asked for it (this is not white knighting but an objective assessment of events).

    - watching the crappy chicks forced to settle for welfare state/governmental assistance instead of men/fathers for their rabble whilst simultaneously noting how the few privileged women at the top battle tooth and nail over the few remaining men of desire/means

    - women are waking to the harsh reality that so many men have faced for years: the majority of sound/noise telling you what to do is so baseless out of touch....and fails to mention that you are in for a rude awakening after you start sipping the Kool-Aid.

    women are told to be independent, have a career, you don't need a man to have a kid......let me know how that one works out for you ladies. ever notice how aggravated feminists are? they act like women are virtual slaves in America. Earth to feminists in non 3rd world nations: Women in other countries are treated like slaves. Spare me the speal about unlimited maternity leave and the like until I stop reading about women sentenced to gangrape and being set on fire b/c of unpaid dowries and the like.

    Women/specifically the women's groups passing unilateral alimony/child custody etc don't want equality, they want the power minus the responsibility.

    Firefighters? Soldiers? Police? Scientists? Cutting edge physicists? Construction laborers? Last time I checked they were overwhelmingly male. The cogs that make the machine work are predominately male. Continue adding to the disincentives for them at your own peril.

    Talking about rights and equality is nice. It only matters in a secure and safe society. All those rights and the like disappear in those societies without enforced order.

    Wednesday, January 20, 2010

    Hiding in the Normalcy

    Wake up. Nauseating hunger pierces my body as my metabolism is increasing. Brew coffee. Eat healthy breakfast. Tired from Gym. Not tired from boozing it all night nor waking up in my car. I find myself in a routine of normalcy. For a time, I've found reprieve from the wolf hunger that strikes with panic and near nausea at the thought of boredom. I'm bored but tired enough from the gym that I feel content. I noticeably lack the insatiable drive for another night spent in the brink of downtown and floating at the bottom of a bottle. I'm exercising a different demon for the time being. If I can train long and hard enough, it mutes the dark passenger allowing deep, catatonic hours of fitful rest. I can see the lure as I watch the passenger's lips move with wordless promises. The siren's call, however, proves silent and voiceless b/c I am simply too tired to consider rising from the couch. Peekaboo. I see you dark passenger. Suck on this pacifier for a bit longer.

    I limp down the stairs, make dinner, watch The Office, and I am humored. The room is quiet. I am grateful simply to be sitting still. Sleep comes without notice, as does my jarring alarm in the morning. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

    Here's to enjoying the calm of the gym's aftermath/exhaustion and the avoidance of cheap thrills via expensive mistakes. I know this won't last but I feel calm in the knowledge that it will for a time longer. Certainty is hard to come by in many regards.
    -With Greatest Affection

    The reason safe/code words were invented. Rape fantasy/craigslist used to orchestrate actual rape.

    Tuesday, January 19, 2010

    News...b/c Truth is Stranger than Fiction

    Dances wit-I mean, Avatar pulled from screens in China.

    A film even discussing forced evictions of native people apparently don't fly in the People's Republic.

    I blogged about this earlier...the spate of girls that show American women (contrary to fact/truth) being hounded by European guys for marriage.

    The cultural truth about a woman unable to find commitment and in her 30's is truth. The notion that she'll find a European guy on vacation to whom she'll marry....well, I don't know a single woman who would fit that description outside of those brief movie trailers I see so often nowadays.
    Better yet, listen to why the women think they want a European man, AND think about how it would be deplored/ridicules if an American man were to say the same: "“Think of it as the reverse of the Russian mail-order bride,” Aleksander writes, “Importing an agreeable, commitment-submissive Euro-husband, or finding him in his natural habitat.”"
    If you note closely, this very comment harshly comments on the stereotypes regarding men who seek foreign brides. Even though, statistically, they have much lower rates of divorce. Go figure. Even more humorously, the article mentions Grace fuckin' Kelly as proof of this as a common occurrence. She of course married a Prince from Monaco. Talk about selective proof of existence and commonality.

    If she was white....they'd be all over this.

    Rapist attacking older women (50-60's). Truth is stranger than fiction.
    Anyone remember all those "reports" that came out of Katrina in the days following? About the mass rapes and baby murder and the blah fucking blah...and then it turned out that virtually NONE of it was true? Then you see something like Haiti where by all accounts bodies are literally lining up in the streets....where's Kanye to tell us that Obama does not care about Haitian people? I saw Diddy working the phone on CNN the other night. If Diddy can find time to run his "empire"...and berate wannabe assistants.....Kanye's got no excuse.
    But then if you read carefully in articles over-dramatizing the death toll and "frenzy of looting" find segments that read, "Nothing suggests "widespread disorder" and panic, Rogers said, citing the well-publicized incidents of unrest as "isolated events."". Wow. So it's a frenzy of looting...but these are isolated. So it's chaos and anarchy....but that it's not even hindering rescue/work. Hmmm. Sounds like more doubletalk from liberal media bias. Shocker, right?

    Warping women/girls notions of health/beauty isn't just for Tyra Banks anymore

    Sunday, January 17, 2010

    Sands of Time/Experience

    I used to visit my grandpa when I was a kid. He was a calm man. He told great stories. He was the sole person I have ever met that made religion feel genuine. His love for others and his kindness was deep and profound. He had once been a hell-raiser and the like but had finally calmed with religion and age.

    He had a golf buddy. His buddy had stepped on a landmine in WW2. He had a glass eye. A badass Marine tattoo on his forearm and was missing most of one leg. He told me the story of waking up in the hospital mangled and bandaged missing an eye, most of one leg, and his narrowly managing to keep both arms......he would tell other stories about war when his wife and my grandma weren't around. He spoke of watching men climb screaming in flames from tanks, of clasping his pistol in case "a fuckin' German" came for him after the mine went off. He was an older man, in his 60's....but I was pretty sure he was still one tough bastard.

    Both he and my grandpa had a profound calm. A view/acceptance of the world I can only equate to a form of wisdom. I wonder if the world is still producing men like them. Society is screening for the risk-averse men more and more it seems. Historically far less men reproduce than women. Historically far more men die from the plethora of high-risk scenarios which plague our gender.

    At the end of the road, I want to know that I lived and experienced. I don't expect the wisdom I felt in the old guys that loom over my childhood like semi-legends. It would be nice, but I don't expect that wisdom. I can only hope that Sir Wm. Blake was right and that "the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom."

    Friday, January 15, 2010

    More Lies for Women to Buy

    In watching commercials as of late...I've noted a continuing stream of schlock for women's movies (redundant, I know). This is really a repetitive cycle of the same plot in some form:

    Read the synopsis here in its entirety

    Highlights - "Beth (Bell) is a young, ambitious New Yorker who is completely unlucky in love. However, on a whirlwind trip to Rome, she ... is then aggressively pursued by a band of suitors."

    How formulaic could a film be? Girl is is unlucky (men of course will be the cause of this lack of luck). She will be pursued by semi-desirable guys from abroad (another outright boldfaced lie as I've never heard a guy from another country say he preferred dating American women...and I've known a good number and asked them all this exact question. Many of them do admit that American chicks traveling abroad slut it up - several close female friends of mine attest to this phenomenon).

    American woman finds love as it comes to her doorstep...after making the foreign guy jump through hoops.

    See also: The Closer You Get - virtually identical - "Irish lads send an ad to the Miami Herald inviting fit and enticing women, between the ages of 20 and 21, to live in their isolated Donegal village. .....Kate, a publican with a young daughter, (lol) is separating from her husband and catches the eye of a bachelor ...." - Insert American girl. Unlucky in love. Somehow attracts foreign man. Finds love through random chance/luck.

    See also: Leap Year - virtually identical - "A woman who has an elaborate scheme to propose to her boyfriend on Leap Day, an Irish tradition which occurs every time the date February 29 rolls around, faces a major setback when bad weather threatens to derail her planned trip to Dublin. With the help of an innkeeper, however, her cross-country odyssey just might result in her getting engaged." - Insert American girl. Unlucky in love. Somehow attracts foreign man. Finds love through random chance/luck.

    Thursday, January 14, 2010

    Puting the "Live" back in "Living"

    Soundtrack to this post: Oasis' Fucking in the Bushes

    Alternative Soundtrack: Swollen Members :)

    "watching her shoulders like a memory from the past....."
    -Time by Timbaland feat. She Wants Revenge

    It's interesting when you realize a change in yourself. Like most madmen, I'm victim to whim, functional addiction, self-destructive tendencies and a genetic code hellbent on early termination of the bloodline. Other times I manage an alarmingly normal facade endearing to a number of those I meet/know.

    Recently, some fighters from other gyms were visiting. We suited up and prepped for upcoming fights. Other guys that haven't/don't/won't fight looked on. There is a look you get, a nod, the approval from a coach that is proud of your ability/willingness to inflict pain/punishment on another rival from a different gym/club/facility/tribe. The others, the background, the necessary and important training partners look on with an envy that is indescribable. They live vicariously. Your victory is a small part theirs for aiding in the preparation. It figures I was never one much for team sports. You fight as a team...but share the victory. Meh. Bollocks to that. I was never one much for sharing either.
    I'd rather prepare as a team but feel the roar of the crowd as my hand is raised in dominance. Guess that makes me a greedy bastard.

    You go downtown and you see guys posturing. You see guys trying to wear the body language that says they are dangerous. It brings a smile of pity to my face. Anyone can hit someone in a bar. Try hitting another guy in the face who's ready for it.....while 500 people watch and observe. Hell, anyone can think they're tough. It's wicked easier than finding out just how tough you are, just what is your breaking point.....every fuckin' day after work. Doing it hungover. Doing it tired. Doing it hungry. Doing it before you move your shit from your girlfriend's. Doing it while your parents divorce. Show up battered, tired, weary, emotionally wrecked, put on your gloves, bite down on your mouthpiece and take another beating in your life and don't quit. That is the only rule. Don't quit and you will earn respect. Losing is a by product of daring, seeking to win. Quitting is never an option. You will beat the life out of me before I ever quit. This is something I know. This is something I have shown.

    For the serious fighters, for guys that have only had this as their hobby for years before you ever saw them fight....they've put more blood, sweat, tears, more of themselves than most people will put in everything they try in their whole lives.

    It's not for everyone. I've felt sorrow and elation beyond words as a result of my passion. I wouldn't have it any other way. My strength and lust for thrill has been my downfall as much, strike that, more than it's been the cause for experiencing the highest of highs....but the highs are profound and untouchable with a price I've gladly paid in full. More tears, sweat, and blood than I could count....and many more forthcoming.

    I recall sitting in a booth with a few close friends after my last fight. Other fighters at the same bar complimented my fight. I sat and the music pounded, the bass reverberated through my spine. I wasn't drunk. I wasn't even really tipsy. I sat and knew that this elation, this joy in victory was a high as elusive as any other...and that I was hooked. I knew at that moment that it would subside, that the next morning would bring the aches and pains and the absence of that warmth....but in that moment, I savored the taste of sweet victory.
    Find the shit that matters to you. Find the thing that you will chase regardless the cost. Find the thing that requires blood and sweat and tears to seek.

    -With Greatest Affection

    Speaking of which, Roosh articulates this far more vibrantly on his most recent post here: "I don’t want to count down the days to the weekend where I punish my liver because my week was so lifeless. I don’t want to wait until Saturday to take a book to a coffee shop and lose track of time."

    Wednesday, January 13, 2010


    Watch the short clip here and the way the teleprompter is read:

    "A fat ass is healthier than a spare tire."

    The rest of the commentary makes it sound like being a fat assed chick in and of itself is preventative of bad health.....another push from those that want to pretend being obese isn't unhealthy and a serious cost in healthcare. This might be true as it appears if a chick ONLY had a fat ass and wasn't otherwise obese.

    And a random quote by Hemingway: Decadence is a difficult word to use since it has become little more than a term of abuse applied by critics to anything they do not yet understand or which seems to differ from their moral concepts.

    In other hilarity....
    A Slut Spill in California....they just came from a negligee rock-climbing contest...keep them busy with strip-offs and shooter contests.

    When You Say Jump.....

    As it is, I'm single now. Something like the vaunted singularity, it proves rare. Like clockwork, through some subconscious broadcast, a girl approached me at the gym the other day dropping fairly outright IOI's, saying she had seen my fight, looked forward to the next, had ran into a buddy of mine, asked him about me et cetera. I was impressed with her open admission regarding these things, but she didn't come off as desperate, so it wasn't a put off.

    Another girl caught my eye. Nice, heavy ass, decent chest. Not the type other guys might immediately notice, but serious potential. I haven't met an Brasieirinhas in awhile (****) but sometimes you have to find a less than preferable harbor in the storm of "no consistent sex".

    My ex called as I was leaving the gym. She invited me over. I was tired from the gym, needed a shower, and hungry. I told her as such. In Girlsperanto (girlspeak), this translated to "as soon as I was done, I would head over there as soon as possible to spend time with her and fill her bed/gash."

    Around 10pm I got the message saying how *** she was. By 1030pm she'd sent a tersely testy message asking what was taking so long. I hadn't communicated any intent to come over so I hadn't even looked at my phone but by chance. I calmly informed her that I was tired, it was cold outside, and had no intention of driving at such an hour. She tersely said goodbye.

    There was a time when the dangling of potential, possible, mayhap, might be, could be, hopeful sex would be enough to get me into a tizzy. When I was 20 years old. Time has taught me a few meager lessons...well, time and experience. Namely, things are on your own terms or not at all. Period. For a time you might well get things by bending to the will of another...but alas, only for a time and it proves hardly worth the time/effort.

    This not a two way street. There is my way or there is the highway as a coach of mine once said. His other maxim was, "this is not a fucking democracy."

    When you say "jump", I don't fucking say "how high?", at least not any more I don't.
    I find it interesting the subtext which permeates our society and how it differs in message to men and women:

    To men: work hard. educate yourself. if you don't you are a failure. a waste. not a real man. do not objectify women. if an older woman abuses you when you are in your teens you are "lucky". if you and a woman are drunk and sex occurs but the next morning she feels regret, you are a rapist. marriage despite the 70% chance that if divorced your wife will initiate. She will also get half your shit and much of your future earnings. You will get nothing but bills and rebuke. You will likely die of heart complications/stress-related illness though women talk of how demanding having a vagina can be.

    To women: you don't need a man. you only need sperm for a baby. marriage is the end all be all, it will sate your cosmic loneliness. when it doesn't you can divorce and set yourself up for financial freedom. you are hot at 40 (you're not and you know it in the relative sense). younger men should desire older women b/c they have fucked a bunch of dudes and women define that as sexy. you get the benefits of chivalry and avoid the costs. a man should accept and love you despite however much miles of cock you have inhaled.

    Sadly, what women and feminists don't that men have endured the war, loss, brutality, and early death for millenia. We're genetically conditioned to accept this yoke. Women have endured far less for the advance of civilization. They're not built for the life of men. Literally or figuratively.

    It's just absurd.

    Tuesday, January 12, 2010

    Signs of the Times

    Soundtrack for the day: Black Strobe - I'm a Man
    Oxymoronic site of the day: Christian Science Monitor
    Book Recommendation of the day: Rabbit, Redux by John Updike
    Link of the Day: (from Whiskey's Place) This is how they roll in South Africa
    Extra link of the Day: Bailouts and Suckers(anyone who supported them)
    I was standing at the ****** with my ex ex the other day, surviving the arctic chill so humorously and strangely coming in the midst of global warming (I can hear it now, no, listen, the cold weather is ALSO BECAUSE OF GLOBAL WARMING!!!!!!! THE HORROR!!!! THE TERRIBLE-NESS!!!!!).
    She referred to my vocal disdain, rather mistrust, of the institution of marriage and families. I gently corrected her in a low calm voice.
    "I don't dislike families or even children. Hell, it's not even marriage I distrust. It's the punitive cost to the man in the form of preferential treatment for the woman. Combine that with the fact that 7 out of 10 times in a divorce, the woman is the one initiating...and know.
    Imagine if I entered into a contract that 7 out of 10 times cost me tens of thousands if not more dollars. 'You'd say well, you had it coming.' And you'd be right." I knew the data. I knew the facts. I still signed on the dotted line. I'm just saying that it's hard to advocate signing away half my shit and much of my future shit for something that fails not by my own volition 7 times out of 10."

    She nodded and agreed that the laws were making marriage and children a riskier and riskier endeavor for the modern man.

    Some thoughts on my son, should I ever get caught with my hand in the cookie jar, or when I'm 40 I manage to accidentally impregnate some young Brasileirinha near the cafe/bar I own.....
    He will play a sport from a young age. He may play an instrument if HE chooses, not b/c I will make him. He will learn a 2nd language, perhaps a 3rd if I am living abroad at the time (likely). He will wrestle or do Judo, something in preparation for competing as an individual. Train as a team, but compete by yourself. Thereby accruing the advantages of both self-reliance and the team mentality. Few excuses will be made for his behavior and failures. I will lead by example and only occasionally divulge stories of my life but they will be cryptic and symbolic. When he cries, I will admonish him. When he is weak I will voice disappointment in terse terms. Not b/c I am truly disappointed but b/c coddling makes a weak boy and a weaker man. When he accomplishes something, I will have few words of encouragement, but this knowing and proud admission will be worth its weight in gold.
    I will tell him the workings of men and women, but he will likely disbelieve until he discovers for himself the truth. Such is the fate of all men who are given rather than forced to obtain knowledge at the outset. What he must learn above all, above all other rules and codes and that a man must be self-made. A man is only what he chooses to be by forcing himself into the brink, into the uncomfortable, into the dangerous. A man is only the sum of obstacles he has faced, failed, and conquered.
    I was lucky. I chose to mire myself in the hellish gym and fail time and again. I could have easily were it not for some innate drive been a cowardly simp of a man, with moppish hair that bought into the modern media blitz glorifying the beta male that is pathetic and shameful and undeserving of his birthright as the heir to generations of men who passed on their genetic material. I will do my best to insure my son is not one of them. Should he be gay, then I will encourage him to be the prettiest and most craved of gay men. Should my child be a woman, then I will turn her into a haughty and man-breaking creature.

    -With Greatest Affection

    Monday, January 11, 2010

    Avatar Blues. Sigh.

    Read it here.

    If you feel depression b/c you can't live in the world of Avatar (ripped off from Dances with Wolves and the host of other Green/Scare tactic flicks)....kill yourself.

    Things I Would Like to Say.....

    Linked from Playing the Devil's Advocate. The truth about American relationships.
    Not all girls are like this....but damn if this doesn't remind me of many of my friends' lives.....God.
    A living nightmare.....sadly, this is the video that ends on a positive note. This is the life story where the woman's not one of the 70% of females that initiate court proceedings to terminate half of all marriages. I do appreciate the comprehensive bait n' switch that men aren't willing to make it work...when it comes to marriage, 7 out of 10's the woman who can't hack the long road. Go figure.

    Eventful week in the books. Grateful that Sunday passed into oblivion and I can count the week/end as finished.

    I could explain the strange events of last week but there's no point. Long time readers of this blog and the previous vaunted incarnations can likely guess what has transpired in the course of the past week. It has only reaffirmed my guiding principles.
    Namely, talk is cheap.
    Follow your own volition.
    Stay the course.

    You'd be surprised how many will come along for the ride if you simply let them know you are boarding.

    Had my first weekend of outright sobriety in awhile. Much like those that find exercise and diet make you feel better overall, not drinking has made me feel better overall at the start of the week. Yes, that's a "duh" moment.

    Good luck and happy hunting to my faithful readers. Poppa ******* loves you all.
    -With Greatest Affection

    Friday, January 8, 2010

    Nostalgia for Nostalgia's sake

    Ever been so hungover you wonder if your co-workers will smell the booze emanating from your pores?
    Ever been so hungover you wonder that if you were pulled over on your way to work that you might not pass a breathalyzer?

    In fitting fashion I have a rather large company-wide meeting today.

    I got back down to the way I used to live last night. I had something like $20 in my bank account. I decided to make a go of it. I decided to try my hand at living. I'd been quiet since picking up my shit from my LTR's place. I'd been a good boy. I'd been studious, literate, healthy, and productive at the gym. Fuck that lame ass noise.
    I saw a comedy show with 1/2 the tix I bought for my ex-LTR and I. I drank a lot more than necessary. What blew me away about the comedian was how unapologetically he made it clear that decent + looking guys can almost never be faithful. Go figure. It was also obvious by his early hand to nose gestures that he'd been knockin' out some fat rails pre-show warm-up. Another thing we had in common. After the show, dollar beer flowed forth in the adjoining bar to the comedy club. Left and segued to a bar where a buddy works.
    I chatted up a trio of girls/friends with my buddy's girl. They were eating out of my goddamn hand. I was in rare form, even for me. But, alas, I am a sprinter in the game of chatting up girls that are less than beautiful. My taste has become selective. I have acquired a taste for true attractiveness.

    Then I did my usual: I didn't finish the race. They were cute. Just not cute enough. Le sigh.
    I chowed down some diner food rather than muchin' on some pussy, drove to my mom's since it's closer to downtown than my place. Slept deep, catatonic dreams of a madman. I might've looked to close the show with one of those broads if there'd been an attribute amongst the girls: tigs, big ass, real cute face.....but as it was they were blaise. No amount of smiling was going to make it happen for them. If they'd offered up how much they like anal, mayhap my stance would've softened. I guess I've developed standards. Le sigh. As it is, I'm going to swim through the concrete haze of my hangover whilst working. Then it's time to hit the gym and get punched in the face. How glorious......
    -With Greatest Affection

    "I am trying to be heroic
    In an age of modernity
    I am trying to be heroic
    As all around me history sinks
    So I enjoy and I devour Flesh and wine and luxury
    But in my heart I am lukewarm

    Nothing ever really touches me
    -Bloc Party

    Wednesday, January 6, 2010

    Freedom/Odds & Ends

    Soundtrack to this post:
    1 - I get Even by Mickey Avalon
    2 - Dance by Mickey Avalon

    Free -
    6. able to do something at will; at liberty: free to choose.
    7. clear of obstructions or obstacles, as a road or corridor: The highway is now free of fallen rock.

    The first thing I've noticed about being single is my abundance of personal time.

    "And my heart carries the pain of a brain I can't explain,
    Am I insane?"

    "Why"? she asked.
    Why was I dishonest? Why had I been unfaithful?
    Why do I breathe?
    Ask the cheetah why it chases the Gazelle. Ask the monkey why it swings from trees. There is no why. It's odd that women invariably can't understand when men give into impulse and cheat. Girls make the vast majority of their decisions based on emotional state/inclination. It's like they can't recognize the same in another. Yet somehow when men cheat, women grow a logical part of the brain and try to "understand". What oddity is this?

    Even if I had an answer I wouldn't offer it up. You dig in the past and find the dirt. Fine. I'm not going to help you refill the hole.
    The biggest questions have the simplest answers.
    Is there a God? No.
    Why do people hurt one another? Man is capable of good and bad and everything in between.
    Why are we incomplete? Because we are human.

    -With Greatest Affection

    Still getting used to wearing my "single" hat. I haven't quite yet begun to look around and spy birds I would like. For once, I've not in the midst of ending one relationship/still mired in's an easy, weightless feeling. I'm answerable, well less answerable, to no one save myself. There's no explanations for disappearances in the aftermath. There's no worry as to who might check my phone while passed out. Snoop in my history for scraps of info to extrapolate. It is what it is.

    Fairy Tales for Boys that Want to be Men

    Soundtrack to this post: English Summer Rain by Placebo

    I wrote a fable/fairy tale/whatever for all the little boys that dream to be men one'll note how it differs from the trad'l ones for little girls with their Prince Charming's and Frog Princes and the like.

    Our story begins.....
    A man finishes the first day back at work after a vacation and glances at his cell phone. The bright, glowing, text message from his girlfriend reads: your stuff is on the doorstep. leave the key when you pick it up.

    The man spends the next 2 1/2 hours on the mats and in the ring earning his keep as a man with the requisite exhaustion, bruises, and humbling by better fighters.

    The man picks up his shit in sullen, wordless fashion and is even asked for a hug at the close of business. Female derision knows few bounds but he knew this already. No proof of his infidelity is offered other than suspicion and hearsay, but he doesn't not raise his voice nor shout. He did not dig through her past, for to dig is to find dirt and in his experience he has learned this well....for experience proves the best teacher. He does not look for that which he does not wish to find.

    He heads to his mother's house for facing the empty apartment on the other end of town is just too far to drive and the heat in his car has stopped working at some point in the day.

    He arrives only to meet the man his mother is dating now that she's separated from his stepfather. His stepfather and he rarely speak. He does not recall his birth father. Fitting. The man is not surprised. He is not flustered. He does not even care enough to be irritated. These things, these facts, slide by him indiscernible and passing like wind.

    He sits in his old room: the room from his recent youth where he once watched porn and does so now in some mockingly derisive temporal vortex. He sips a beer, catalogs his training, then quickly falls asleep after his day.

    Tuesday, January 5, 2010


    This blog's title is the word that struck me as I read the following words: "we may have a craven attempt to heighten the demand for something that is losing its real value."

    In context it reads something like: "I cannot but wonder if there is a connection between the fact that (1) a lot of women are increasingly incapable of relating to men in healthy ways and (2) women are increasingly resorting to extreme measures to beautify themselves and flaunt their sexuality in front of men. In short, we may have a craven attempt to heighten the demand for something that is losing its real value."

    I want you to go back and REREAD the above statement. That pretty much explains at least one cause for my latent lack of desire for the vast majority of women whom I come across.

    And peruse this while you're at it. Food for thought, indeed.

    We've got to stop sipping the motherfuckin' Kool-Aid. Seriously.

    Livin'(?) the Dream(?)

    Christmas (engorged lines of buyers and stores) has passed. We are left with stuff we bought, stuff we were given...and whatever else comes with celebrating a season.

    The commercials continue without the holiday pressure to add to the encouragement to buy. Yet, the onslaught of commercialism never stops grinding. Xmas ends and we are less than 6 weeks roughly removed from Valentine's Day. *sigh* A month before Xmas we had Thanksgiving's gluttony and a month before that there was f'ing Halloween more increasingly pushed as an adult-celebrated holiday as well.
    After February comes summer vacations, 4th of July, Memorial Day and the like. There is no end to consumer driven/focused holidays to choose from. Add in a girlfriend's bday and if you're not actively shopping for some holiday then you are saving up to soon buy for one.

    In reality, these all sell something: love, company, good times of merriment, BBQ's, fulfillment et cetera. They sell an ideal. Just like marriage. Just like kids. Just like stuff. They sell a fulfillment. They sell a feeling of contentedness.

    The less I buy stuff, the happier I am. This is a trend I have noticed over the past few years since exiting college. When I need a new shirt to mix in the wardrobe, I get it. When it's time for a hat to mix up my ensemble, or a scarf, shoes whatever, I get it. I'm not some total anti-consumer clown devoid of the need for some material possessions. As such, however, I do not ascribe anything other than contemporary and current value to them. They are REPLACEABLE. My point is that the end goal, the end dream of the family with the holidays and the presents under the tree with the nice car parked inside the garage is the ultimate sucker's bet.

    I was out drinking with an old buddy on Xmas Eve. I had an awesome time. I had no one expecting shit of me. I got busy drinking downtown and went until blackout. I hit on girls. I felt the warmth of some Jack & Cokes, and I shot the shit with an old buddy. No expensive consumer purchases requiring loans needed.

    When society tells us the childless, godless, unmarried, non-wealthy (not poor per se, but not overly wealthy....comfortable as they say) are unhappy, how much of that is projection? How much of that is what they hope b/c they are tired, trapped, expected of, demanded of, required of, and resentful as such of those free from such obligations?

    I don't know. And obtaining a truthful answer to the above is tough as there are those married, with children, working jobs they hate to pay debt they barely afford types that insist the 20 min's of joy while kids open presents is a good trade.....but I'm honestly not so fucking sure.

    The times I've spent with family or a significant other's fam at Xmas or other holidays has always been pleasant I 'spose.....but easily something I could do without and/or would not miss were I not to have it. It's about value I 'spose. It's about deciding what you want/need based on....well, what YOU want/need and not based on what the masses say you SHOULD want/need.

    That's just my take on it I 'spose. Perhaps the call of ex's who insisted I would be lonely, that I would be sad, that I would miss them in unbearable fashion is ringing hollow as fuck as of late, and I want other(s) to know that those words become a self-fulfilling prophecy if you let them...or they become weightless air that blows without your even registering it....should you so choose/decide. This is not to say that I don't miss them in some fashion or another. I simply accept that what they needed I could not provide nor was I sure that I would ever be able to. When you crossover from the phase of potential to the phase of clear expectations, this is when extrication becomes difficult. It is a process that grows easier with practice, trust me good sirs.

    My happiest day is spent working out then relaxing over a beer, or a good day in a comfy chair reading at a bookstore. Could I have more shit if I drank less? Sure. Do I want more shit? No.
    The peace of a good woman is alluring. The waking up next to a soft figure, curves, and dark hair is as appealing to me as fucking said type of woman. For me they are closely intertwined. However, will I acquiesce my freedom for either side of that equation? No. I can't say that I ever will.

    Now I cut back my drinking for a desire to travel. This is based not on some desire to look down on consumers of products, but after careful assessment of my own wants/desires/impulses as a better spending of my money for something other than cheap and short term thrills.

    Be who and what you are. Do not apologize. Do not waiver. Cast aside the expectations and "should"s of others. Look within.

    -With Greatest Affection

    Monday, January 4, 2010

    Tales from the Darkside/If you can fix her you can have her

    Buckle up lads. Gather 'round the campfire. Poppa Benedict has a horror story for you....I'm taking a cue from Lifetime....allegedly, this story is based in truth. How much one cannot know for it's me telling you and I've never lied on this blog or the previous incarnations....well, you know my bit. It's all true. Every driven word.

    The other night I was watching my Alma Mater do its usual "winning the game by a hefty margin then throwing that away with boneheaded plays" and the like routine which makes being a fan of necessity such a tortuous endeavor. At any rate, I was sitting there and this commercial played. One you may have seen, one you may have not.

    In the commercial......
    A young man comes riding a bike or some shit down some dusty road. He sees a broken down old car with a note on the car that says "if you fix it you can have it."
    I immediately joked, "that's how chicks are. You fix up some other guy's wreck on the side of the road and if you can get it to run again it's all yours. Too bad it comes with all the damage from whatever road she towed before you came along."
    A buddy joked, "yeah, wouldn't it be funny if the car's original owner came back after that sucker fixed it up with his time, money, effort etc? Oh wait, people do that to one another all the time."

    "Yeah. We've all been out on the town, chatting up some girl and you know that she's either huffing the fumes of your come-on as a cheap fill-in for her addiction to some other dude's cock....and she waits breathlessly for his late night call b/c he didn't bone some other skank."

    "We need Carfax for chicks. Like, an automatic resume generator and fact checked list verified for all but the most deceptive girls."

    Speaking of which....I almost feel a trace of pity for the scores of guys out there attempting to dress the battle wounds of the girls I've dated. But, it's up to each of us to draw our line in the fucking sand and decide what we will tolerate. I'm surprisingly tolerant of behavior if it's made known fairly early on in a relationship. It's once a girl lets me craft this lady image and then it comes out she's had 3 std's, an abortion, moonlighted as a stripper, and once did 3 guys in a bathroom in Cancun....that's when I start to pack my shit and grab my favorite hat as I step towards the door.

    In better of my rogue's gallery members mayhap be returning to my neck of the woods for a spell. This will virtually guarantee the likes of my old stories. Early readers will remember the stories along the lines of "I don't date girls that don't do anal", "Strippers on Tuesday nights", "****** Unplugs an alarm clock b/c the girl sucked"...and other classics.

    In news neither good nor bad nor unpredictable, I had lunch with my ex. Again. We talked as only two people that genuinely care for one another can yet find themselves at an impasse. One of the pair is unwilling and/or unable to effect lasting change. The change needed is a dealbreaker. It is a change necessitated by the very definition of "exclusive".

    I'd be lying if I sat in the quiet moments and did not wish for her soft hair on my face, her head on my chest, and her breath lightly deepening as she fell asleep.
    What can you do? What that part of me wants I cannot give.

    Minus the relapse with the ex awhile back, I 've actually behaved otherwise...well that and the other ex. And there was that blonde with the kiss. At any rate, I've actually avoided falling into my usual concurrent dating situation. I suppose that's affecting a discernible change for the time being.

    -With Greatest Affection

    Idle Hands

    Spent the other night out hoping to see some fights. I was predictably derailed by dueling pianos and a Brazilian girl then weariness.
    Headed out to see the UFC, but stopped off @ another bar as the prelims were underwhelming for the more knowledgeable fan. This proved fateful. I did post up next to a Brasileirinha, chatted with her for a bit, did the obligatory and prerequisite joking with the friend who was irked she wasn't getting attention. For most guys, the 'friend' was probably the more likely choice.. But I went with the girl with the nicer/kinder face and the bigger ass. It was hard to block out thoughts of putting it in her ass whilst I was talking to her. She gave me the usual IOI's, kino she initiated, loved my job when finally revealed after much evasion.
    "No, really, I want to know. Please tell me. We can trade."
    I wordlessly smirked and agreed she would have to owe me in trade, but didn't answer.
    When she finally guessed, I went with some cheese about how sometimes people can just read one another. blah fucking blah. The friend grew restless, so I supplicated her with some jokes whilst the target was in the bathroom (probably checking her phone to see where her ex/some other dude was).
    At any rate, my interest waivered then lapsed, so I ejected not b/c I was blown out....b/c I just didn't care enough to continue spouting words. Odd, indeed.

    Had coffee with the ex the other day. We made small talk and skirted the obvious issues. She was gorgeous as always. I was glad that I hadn't hurt her recently in the midst of a relationship. We caught up, discussed family, life, work, et cetera. The things normal friends do but added with a tinge of longing, loss, and a note of anguish. I reaffirmed my wish to avoid hurting her any more than necessary but could not repress my feelings of missing her to a considerable degree.

    Had lunch with my mom the other day. She underscored her admonitions to avoid marriage for the considerable future and to remain devoted to myself and my goals. We talked about the disintegration of the family, work, life, and relocating.

    Afterward, I sat at a coffee shop by myself, considering my relative lack of direction. Idle hands are never indicative of good times for one such as myself. Without a clear goal to aid in making positive/productive decisions, my drinking typically spikes and I spend less time hiding from my demons by going to the gym. In true apropos fashion, I've been offered a fight. It offers a truly legitimate threat to my record as a fighter. My vacation from work has ended and I am headed back into the dungeon of masochism that is constantly being humbled and tested on the mats and in the ring.

    I bid thee well faithful readers. It is a new year whose symbolic worth cannot be underestimated. Each day marks the possibility for change, but the added figurative weight of a new calendar year beginning can provide that iota of difference necessary for some of us to embark on a new direction, or resume one thought lost.
    -With Greatest Affection