Chinese Water Torture

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Six weeks ago, Bella informed me (via text message) that she had much better prospects. I was told that if I wanted to keep her, I needed to up my game, and pony up some cash for that gash. She was a fun chick, but ultimately I’m not in the market for a wife. I wished her well and told her not to let the door hit her in the ass on the way out. She didn’t want to ghost out immediately, however.

Bella made much ado, over the course of the next week, about how much fun she was having, riding different cocks. I told her that I was glad she was having fun. Shortly afterward, I got another ultimatum.

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Suddenly she decided she “had feelings” for me, and wanted to be sure I knew what I was giving up. I told her that I hoped she’d be very happy with her new beau.

Suddenly, this week, Bella reappeared. I have to assume that this two-month relationship wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. For the last four days, she’s badgered me with the same questions, and I’ve given her the same answers.

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There’s only one way to keep your dignity intact. When a wimminz decides to give you an ultimatum, you point to the door, and invite her to walk out of it. Ironically, when you do this, you gain a certain measure of respect, and open up the possibility of her coming back.

When (and it’s usually when, not if) she reappears, you have the choice to reject her, or to allow her to re-enter orbit. If you choose the second option, you have an obligation to see that she reattaches at a wildly reduced level of commitment and obligation than she originally enjoyed. To do otherwise is to allow the bitch to see you as a sort of revolving-door, who will permit her to come and go as she pleases.

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Wimminz have several distinct methods of argument, and one of the most annoying is on display above. Rather than making a sound argument in support of her position, a wimminz like this will merely repeat the same demand — over, and over, and over again — ad infinitum. This repetition is probably very effective on a typical male, who ends up acquiescing to her demand, however ridiculous or arrogant, simply because he wants her to shut the fuck up. This is, ironically, not dissimilar from the torture used on American Prisoners of War in the Korean conflict, by interrogators in the Chinese People’s Liberation Army. It is a particularly abusive form of brainwashing which can eventually lead to a man questioning his own sanity.

Wimminz who use such techniques are used to operating from a position of strength. The most effective way to combat such tactics is by never allowing such a wimminz to have any leverage over you whatever. Imagine what your life would be like if you were actually in a relationship with such a wimminz. Is it any wonder that ya boy Boxer’s replacement dumped this bitch after a mere two months?

The bottom line is to identify wimminz who do this early, and keep them at arm’s length by any means necessary. You don’t want to live with a wimminz who turns to these sorts of games, whenever she doesn’t get her way. You certainly don’t want to have any children with her.

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The History of Wimminz’ Hypocrisy

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Wimminz constantly seek to monopolize the role of victim. I suspect that they do this instinctively. The stupid young whore, Emma Watson, gives one example above. This is a particularly ridiculous statement, that we might be tempted to dismiss as one slut’s craziness. In fact, it is not an isolated expression. Another great example is Hillary Clinton’s idiotic 1998 statement, to wit:

Women have always been the primary victims of war…

When our favorite elderly bulldyke said that, most of the men in the audience probably snorted, finding it too ridiculous to even address. That was their mistake, but it is also understandable. I believe that it is a masculine instinct to expect nonsense to vomit forth out of a wimminz’ mouth, and too many men have mistakenly given such trick whores a pass for such stuff. We should learn to override this instinctive response, and always remember to call the feminists out on such big lies.

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As for this big lie, we have already seen one counterexample, in our review of the Triple Alliance War in Paraguay. At the end of that war, there was a female-male ratio of something like 5:1. It is difficult to claim that the wimminz suffered more than the hundreds-of-thousands of men, whose bodies lay all unburied, attracting flies.

We can anticipate the typical feminist response, which would assure us all that the Paraguayan ratio would be corrected once we all embrace feminism. In our future feminist utopia, wimminz will supposedly sprout some national pride, and get into the trenches to defend their countries.

There was, in fact, a nation which conscripted wimminz into its armed forces. That was the U.S.S.R., and we can look at the figures before and after the Great Patriotic War (what we call World War II) to see feminist equality in action.

At the beginning of that war, the female-male ratio was about 1.05:1. At the end of that war, it was 1.5:1.  (Andreev, et. al.). The feminists are partly correct, in that far more wimminz died in combat in the U.S.S.R., than did so in any other society, but they’re still basically full of beans.

Why is it that so many wimminz survived the GPW when their male comrades got slaughtered? We can reconstruct several likely scenarios, based on contemporary knowledge of wimminz behavior in the now-integrated armies of the United States, no?

  • Pregnancy as a strategy to get moved to the rear, or
  • Fake suicide attempts and self-inflicted minor injuries, or
  • Wimminz surrendering immediately, and performing sucky-sucky on thirsty Wehrmacht invaders, in return for not being sent to P.O.W. camp.

The list goes on.

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Here is an actual photograph of brave Soviet partisans “resisting” the German invasion of their town. (They resisted with bread and salt, as an old man once told me.) These wimminz’ husbands and fathers have just been slaughtered by the same men they will fuck with abandon, the minute darkness falls.

Remember: These are the primary victims of warfare.

The same general hypocritical trend can be seen in every other aspect of wimminz’ communication. It is very common for so-called red pill wimminz to endlessly whine about how feminism has hurt them also. Take the case of Michele Weiner-Davis, a licensed social worker and renowned marriage counselor. Weiner-Davis is the author of several books on how to keep your spouse interested, and how to evade divorce. In the past, she has claimed to be motivated by a devotion to her religion (I believe she’s Jewish) and a commitment to CONservative political principles. She has also cited personal reasons for making marriage counseling her life’s work, implying that an incompetent marriage counselor encouraged her own mother to divorce her father, when she was a child.

Michele Weiner-Davis is a milder precursor of contemporary characters like Dr. Helen Smith, and while she earns my respect as a critic of feminist excesses, she is still given to making nonsensical statements, just like the wimminz she attempts to talk sense into.

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Weiner-Davis says that:

…women suffer the most after a divorce

Whether she actually believes this nonsense or not is a good question. Either way, it is a fascinating statement to parse. What do the statistics say? About half of all marriages will end in divorce, and an astounding 80 percent of those divorces are initiated by wimminz (CDC).

For this character to make such a claim seems flatly contradictory. If wimminz truly suffered the most after a divorce, would they file for divorce in such staggering numbers? Weiner-Davis doesn’t speculate on the amazing disparity between reality and her opinion. She merely repeats her big lie, and expects all of us dumb men to swallow it.

What is most interesting is the fact that the converse of this process is instinctively rejected, and with similar emotional energy. The fact that wimminz will playact at being victims, expecting sympathy when it is convenient for them, does not mean that any wimminz will allow men to do likewise. A great contemporary example is the incel phenomenon. Here’s a feminist wimminz of privilege, agitating for such men to be forced into poverty.

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It seems like men in the incel community, who suffer with crushing loneliness and social isolation, would be a natural choice for anyone to sympathize with. The fact that they are men opens them up to dehumanization, whatever their problems. This is likewise not an isolated expression. We can go back a while, and replay the video of radical feminist “big red,” who abrasively sneered at male rape victims. Rape is only a crime when it happens to a wimminz. When it happens to a man or a little boy, the feminists find it fodder for lighthearted discussion and comedy.

We are entering an epoch in which men have largely awakened to the existential threat that feminists pose, both to them as individuals, and to their civilization. The instinctual strategy of wimminz is to play the victim. In doing so, the individual wimminz seeks to hold herself out as an exception to the feminist monolith. Such wimminz will claim that feminism harms them also, and will often bombastically join us to curse her sisters, like Emma Watson and Hillary Clinton. In reality, such so-called red-pill wimminz benefit from feminist praxis just like their hardcore sisters do, and the minute such wimminz find it convenient, they will march into the divorce courts to get those papers filed.

If so-called red-pill wimminz want to be taken seriously, they can make themselves an example of decency, by physically resisting the feminist occupation. As it is, they pretend at victimhood, while surrendering at the first opportunity, and proceed to lay down for our enemies.

Our Man Michael

jacksonI was never a huge Michael Jackson fan, partly because I grew up in Canada, and as was the custom in that shithole, I used to listen to old Skinny Puppy records. The only real alternative was Avril Lavigne.

I realize now that I never gave Jackson’s music a fair chance, and this was probably because of my perception of his personality. The race-change operation, combined with widespread suspicion that he was a pervert, ruined it for me. You might say I chose Skinny Puppy not mainly out of national chauvinism, but because they were objectively less bizarre. At least, that’s what I thought, before this week.

Skinny Puppy was before my time… roughly concurrent with Michael Jackson’s solo career in the U.S.. Like Brother Michael, who did his own thing after his departure from the Jackson 5, Skinny Puppy broke up. All the members have solo acts. The one I tend to follow today is OhGr.

In 2011, I bought OhGr’s most recent album. For whatever reason, I ripped it with iTunes but didn’t get around to listening to it. I finally realized I had it kicking around by chance, when I was going through my ipod, on a city bus. The album opens with the 911 call that was made by Jackson’s personal assistant, after our man Michael was already dead at the hands of his dope-peddling doctor. The red flags in that conversation are so numerous that one begins to wonder all sorts of shit.

Press play to pay respects, and listen closely. That call happened exactly nine years ago. It is the stuff that conspiracy theories are made of.

Jackson died at the end of a long and well-publicized court battle, with prosecutors alleging that he had kidnapped and raped a young boy. The jury found Jackson not guilty on all counts. Some time after the trial, his accuser’s mother pled guilty a perjury charge, in connection with another legal action in which the family tried to shake down another celebrity for money. The same family who had attempted to extort a living from the king of pop, also attempted as much with Jay Leno, Chris Tucker, The J.C. Penney corporation, and numerous others.

Despite being a pop star, Jackson was a shy fella with a lifelong interest in religion. He was born a Jehovah’s Witness, but didn’t seem to find that a hindrance to exposure to other ideas. I don’t know whether Jackson ever officially converted to Judaism, but he was friends with a rabbi named Shmuley Boteach (pronounced Bo-tox). Boteach released a book, entitled The Michael Jackson Tapes, in which are transcribed selections of Jackson’s confessions.

In the first place, the book surprised me simply due to its context. I don’t know what Jewish law entails, but if there isn’t a general ethical rule that says a man’s rabbi can publish a book containing his confessions, there really ought to be. That aside, Jackson makes a number of stunning observations in the book.

About his abortive 1991 relationship with Madonna, Jackson says…

“She is not a nice person,” Jackson told Boteach. Jackson revealed how he and Madonna had bickered about where they would socialize.

“Madonna laid the law down to me before we went out. [She said] I am not going to Disneyland, OK? That’s out,” Jackson said. “I said, ‘I didn’t ask to go to Disneyland.’

She said, ‘We are going to the restaurant. And afterwards, we are going to a strip bar.’ “I said, ‘I am not going to a strip bar, where they cross dress. … I am not going to there. If that’s how it is, forget this whole thing. … Afterwards, she wrote some mean things about me in the press. And I wrote that she is a nasty witch, after I was so kind to her,” Jackson said.

Apparently Jackson wasn’t degenerate enough to stay in Madonna’s good graces.

(Then again, who is?)

Jackson had some very nuanced ideas about females. He loved women, always speaking well of his mother, and a few other solid sisters he knew personally. Like every decent man should, though, Jackson hated wimminz.

Boteach said Jackson simultaneously held women in reverence and awe yet harbored deep suspicions about their motivations and his perceived their use of sexuality to achieve their goals.

Jackson: “Women can do some things that make guys very unhappy. I see it with my brothers. I see my brothers crying in tears and pulling the grass out of the lawn out of frustration because of their wives.”

Boteach: “Do you think all their wives were interested more in their success than in them?”

Jackson: “Absolutely. They were after their money. That’s why I said to myself, ‘I’ll never be married.’ I held out the longest. I stayed at home until I was 27, 28.”

Boteach: “What was part of the attraction to Lisa Marie? That she had her own money? She had her own fame. You knew it wasn’t about any of that.”

Jackson: “Absolutely. She didn’t take a penny, didn’t want anything.”

Like most child celebrities, raised in the praxis prism which is the typical Hollywood film lot, Jackson came to adulthood with some very serious issues. Be that as it may, he tried to warn us, in his songs, about the dangers of wimminz and feminism. The establishment and its corporate media repaid him for this noble act, by spreading the meme that he was a homosexual pedophile and a dangerous predator. I realize, after doing less than an hour of research, that I had been suckered, like a typical SJW halfwit, into believing this nonsense.

Jackson died of a drug overdose, administered by his shady doctor, who has since been charged with murder. Had our man Michael lived, who knows what truths he would have told…

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1958.08.29 (Gary IN) – 2009.06.25 (Los Angeles CA)

Wimminz and Children First: The Strange Case of Paraguay

220px-Lopez1870Paraguay has the dismal distinction to be one of the perpetually underperforming basket case countries of the western hemisphere. While it’s hard to point to one single catalyst, I suspect I can support the argument that fatherlessness was a factor.

I’ve always been partial to the idea of fathers as the primary transmitters of civilization and culture. My opinion is informed primarily by anecdotal evidence. I’ve lived near negro ghettoes and huwyte trash trailer parks, and have seen the produce of the skank-ho single mom, firsthand. That aside, I have no real training as a sociologist, and thus the following is just me giving some historical details in support of my own speculative suspicion.

The gent at top-left is one Francisco Solano López. As his uniform suggests, Frank was sort of a belligerent fellow, who was appointed the second ever President of Uruguay by his father, the first President of Uruguay. He didn’t get his position merely via nepotism. It seems he took the work of preparing for his role seriously. He studied at a French military academy for at least a year, and returned to Paraguay with a British contract to deliver weapons.

Paraguay appears to be the Belgium of South America. By that I mean it was artificially created as something of a buffer state, between two large, powerful rivals. Brazil and Argentina border Paraguay from each end, and it has no outlet to the sea. While Brazil and Argentina are both Catholic countries, the language difference (Portuguese / Spanish) make the peoples inhabiting each ethnically separate.

While López was apparently a competent military officer, his political cunning was sorely wanting, and he allowed himself to get drawn into a fight, first with Brazil, and then with Uruguay. Once Uruguay was attacked, an old military alliance was triggered that brought Argentina into the fight. Thus this conflict is called the guerra de triple alianza. While Frank had a very well-trained and well-staffed army, most of the heavy weapons he ordered from England were blockaded immediately by all three of his neighbors. Brazilian troops retook Paraguay’s occupied territory in the Matto Grosso, crossed the Rio Paraná, and began slaughtering everyone in their path.

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(More blood in the gutter at The Economist)

What followed was an absolute disaster. Thomas Whigham estimates that around 60 percent of the total population of Paraguay was erased between 1865 and 1870, when our boy Frank met his end. The carnage was not entirely due to hostility. Jerry W. Cooney estimates that by the end of the war, at least 50,000 Paraguayans had died of Cholera and Smallpox. At the conclusion of 5+ years of carnage, 80 percent of the marriage-aged men of Paraguay were gone — to disease, to bullets, or to desertion.

Estimates by François Chartrain put the total prewar population of Paraguay at around a million people. The postwar population of Paraguay, according to the 1871 census, stood at 221000. David Jordan interprets the data, inclusive of adults, as featuring about two adult men for every ten adult women. In any random village, circa 1870, every surviving Paraguayan male had three to five Paraguayan females from which to choose. This is a society that seems like a playaz paradise, until one considers the physical and mental state of people who have been savagely crushed, raped, occupied and looted, for years, until they were abandoned to start over again.

Paraguay is an interesting case study in a society which reaped the benefits of chivalry. “Wimminz and children first” could have been the motto of this nation, which depopulated its male citizens to such a drastic degree.

Did this first feminist republic find the wimminz paradise that the bulldykers promise, once they “killed all the men”? The short answer is no. The U.N. Human Development Index lists Paraguay as only slightly better off than Haiti, and in worse straits than Peru and Sri Lanka. Anecdotes from Paraguayans suggest that the country is still in the process of recovery, over a century after the cessation of hostilities.

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(Ask Lost Patrol about his time in the Feminist Republic here)

We have to wonder exactly how this nation survived, and as amateur historians we can come up with a couple of possibilities. There is a high degree of likelihood that many Paraguayans are descended from the Brazilian and Argentine conquerors, who occupied parts of the country during the conflict. Whigham goes into detail about the low social standing of soldiers in Brazil, specifically. It was probably a step up, socially and economically, for many of these men to simply stay on after the cease fire, and with so few native Paraguayans around, they faced little resistance in doing so.

In the twenty-first century, Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay are all developed, pleasant places to live. Paraguay, in contrast, is one of the basketcase countries of the western hemisphere. I doubt this fact is coincidental with its status as the first feminist society, founded on chivalry, fatherlessness, and killing all the men.

Hidden in Plain Sight

Pop_MuzikA lot of people hate on Hollywood, and in truth, there’s plenty to hate. Even so, the people doing most of the hating tend to be scumbag Christian priests, who equate the virgin Mary with skank-ho single moms, and who hold up fat divorcées as the pinnacle of womanhood — describing them as “beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.” With this in mind, we are called to dispense with the lies of the Christians, and take a look at the bright side of secular pop culture, and we start with the music industry. For all its faults, it showcases a number of men who did their best to warn their brothers about the pitfalls of feminism.

The late Tupac Shakur is an example of a confused young boy who was forced into the playa lifestyle after being used and tossed into the gutter by one wimminz after the next. Most of the young brothers don’t even know this man, and that’s a shame, because he had plenty of wisdom to impart.

A bit of background: Tupac’s mother was a drug abusing radical feminist, and he never knew his father. While he loved his mother dearly, the two had a complicated relationship, with years of separation, largely her fault. The following video is a good example of the range of emotions that came out as a result, both in his art and in his life…

At the end of his days, he truly had his head on straight.

Another brother who was taken from the world far too soon was Curt Cobain. Cobain became famous trying to redpill your father and uncles, way back in the day.

Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet
Cut myself on angel hair and baby’s breath
Broken hymen of your Highness, I’m left back
Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back

Kurt was married to a dope-addicted troublemaker named Courtney. I’m sure that had nothing to do with this song about a woman who would cause trouble and then lure her simp back with make-up sex, creating an eternal cycle of dysfunctional Hell for her victim.

We can go even further back in the temporal stream, and listen to Percy Sledge try (in vain) to talk some sense into our grandfathers, way back in 1966…

I don’t know much about Sledge, but a quick internet search suggests he was run through the divorce courts at least once, and the bitch took all his money.

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Are any of us surprised at these lyrics? Ironically, his last marriage was consummated in 1980, and his (last) wife appeared to be a cool female, who stuck with him until his passing in 2015. He didn’t offer much advice on picking a woman from among the wimminz, and I’m forced to conclude he just managed to get lucky after a very rough start. Good for him.

And now, of course, we come to the king of pop. It’s sorta before my time, but just as relevant to my generation as it was to the one Michael wrote it for. If you’ve never paid attention to the lyrics, this song is about that skank-ho who tried to pass Chad’s baby off as yours.

For forty days and for forty nights / The law was on her side / But who can stand when she’s in demand / Her schemes and plans / ‘Cause we danced on the floor in the round / So take my strong advice, just remember to always think twice / (Do think twice)

And here’s your brother Michael talking about that woman who plays you for a simp, all while she’s fucking the neighborhood troublemaker. All your friends already know the score, but they’re nice fellas who will playact (while some of them run cupcake through) just for kicks.

As far as Billie Jean, let’s let the man tell it…

There never was a real Billie Jean. The girl in the song is a composite of people my brothers have been plagued with over the years. I could never understand how these girls could say they were carrying someone’s child when it wasn’t true.

Aside from the fact that these are all men who tried to warn us about the plague of feminism and its dreadful effects on individual lives, these are all men who have passed on. Do your part to honor their memory, by taking their advice to heart.

The Virginity Fetish

220px-TheBellCurveI went to a middlebrow Catholic school for my undergraduate degrees. Part of earning a degree in mathematics was taking math-like disciplines. You had to take a computer science course. I got a B in that. You had to do the 100-level calculus-based physics series. I got A grades in that, but only because I kissed the professors asses. I put off the statistics classes until I was just about ready to graduate. Those are the only C grades on my transcripts. I earned C grades, partly because I hated statistics, and partly because I was already accepted to graduate programs, and just didn’t give a shit in my last semester of the bachelor’s program.

Around this same time, I read Herrnstein and Murray’s book, The Bell Curve. The book, as I remember it, is huge, containing at least a dozen chapters. The section on racial difference is only a part of a single chapter of the book. I know almost nothing about statistics; but my dismal grasp of that topic, along with the authors’ explanation, suggests something quite different from the reviews of the book by all the hateful SJW faggots who are still jerking themselves off in outrage over the content.

If you take huge populations of people, there are bound to be differences. Those differences in character and attitude are notable only in aggregate.

If I take the whole group of African bushmen, and the whole group of European-descended anglophone Americans, I’ll note a difference in the average intelligence between these two groups. Suppose I, as an anglophone Mormon, descended entirely from New England WASP types, meets one African bushman in the wild. What do the statistics tell me? The answer is, not a god damned thing. The best I can surmise is that I have a slight probability of being a little smarter than that fucker, but that is in no wise guaranteed. If I happen to meet him in Africa, then it’s in my interest to kiss his black behind in the hopes that he can teach me how to keep from becoming a lion’s dinner.

I’m the whitest motherfucker you have ever seen. As a group, White people are supposed to be near the top of the cognitive ability distribution. The minute I set foot into the aforementioned graduate program, I met a whole bunch of people who were far smarter than I was, and none of them were as White as I am. Included in the group of people who are at least one standard-deviation more intelligent than I am are…

  • One blue-black African-American woman,
  • One male halfbreed, with a Mestizo mother and Iranian father,
  • One light-skinned Mestizo woman,
  • One Jewish man, with the stereotypical big nose and kinky hair.

It is interesting to note that I am still friends with all of these people, except for the light-skinned Mestizo woman, who turned out to be one of the most treacherous bitches I have ever encountered. She ended up divorcing a good Mestizo man, who had bussed tables to pay rent so that her dumb ass could get her Ph.D.. Almost immediately after she graduated, she dumped him to marry an East Indian dothead, and has subsequently divorced his chump ass too. Between the two of these simps, I imagine she got most of her school loans paid off.

The blue-black African-American woman is the most brilliant statistician I know, and whenever I have a tough linear algebra problem, she is my go-to for a quick answer. She was married to a White guy when we were in our program, and has since divorced him too. I’m sure she got a nice payout for breaking all her most important promises.

Part of what I want to illustrate, with all this, is the absolute non-correlation between cognitive ability and wimminz’ well-established proclivity for whimsical self-destruction. One should appreciate that having an advanced degree is usually not a ticket to a trouble-free life. The Mestizo waiter and the White bank manager, who were married to the two wimminz noted above, have the capacity to make much more money than any of us. The Bindi who was Mestizo-wimminz’ second husband was a stockbroker, and his father was a millionaire. He made more in the year I knew him than all four of us make today. He got tossed into the gutter like so much garbage, by a wife who never appreciated him.

The rest of the illustration has to do with the general non-correlation between aggregated data and individual cases. This is the source of a lot of confusion in the manosphere, where I read claptrap like…

This has clearly be discussed beforehand. A NAWALT is the perfect women who isn’t affected by modern feminism, remains loyal through the good and bad times, never nags, never throws tantrums, remained a full virgin before marriage

Full stop, nigga. Hold it right there.

I understand the source of this misconception. It originates in the Teachman study, which, not unlike Herrnstein and Murray’s brief digression into race, examines statistical differences based upon the sexual history of various populations of wimminz. My man Marcus D. has pointed to this study and popularized it as some sort of guidepost for young brothers.

So, to all my readers, let’s review. Suppose that you have two populations. One is wimminz who are strippers, escorts, and professional prostitutes. The other is made up exclusively of virginal wimminz. What do we know? We know that marrying a random individual from one population carries a slightly higher risk of eventual divorce, compared to marrying a random individual from the other.

Suppose you have two wimminz, one who is a virgin, and the other who is a reformed skank-ho single mom.

Question: What do you know about these two, just taking this background into account?

Answer: Not a damned thing.

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Meet Jenny Erickson, at top left. Mizz Erickson is a public figure, CONservative republican, and “mommy blogger,” who uses her own personal biography to make a living (when she’s not sponging off her ex-husband).

The un-named children in this photo are sired by at least two different men. The eldest girls are the legal (if not biological) offspring of a man who had the misfortune of being married to Jenny. The youngest girl is a bastard, father unknown.

In 2013, Jenny took to whining on the internet, about being excommunicated from her Christian church, which is how I became acquainted with her. Her crime was filing for divorce from her husband, something which Christianity explicitly forbids, except under the most serious of circumstances.

I have no source (and I did look for one) that illustrates Jenny’s virginity at the time of her first marriage. Even so, I remember seeing her boast about “giving” her husband “the gift” of her virginal holes on the honeymoon.

I’m always skeptical, but let’s suppose she actually was a virgin. Does it matter now? I would argue that it doesn’t, since she has treacherously run her husband through the divorce courts, made his kids bastards, and subsequently given them an additional sibling through her own immorality.

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Let’s meet Naghmeh Abedini. Naghmeh is the skank-ho ex-wife of our brother Saeed Abedini, who we met yesterday. Naghmeh married Saeed in Tehran, Iran, in 2004. Was Naghmeh a virgin? I’d say she might have been. She certainly claimed to be, as in that society, you get your ass kicked if you are known to skank around.

Naghmeh spent years holding herself out as a dutiful wife and mother, and this schtick was very profitable, while her husband was incarcerated in an Iranian prison. Due to her pressure, Barack Obama moved heaven and earth to get her husband released. Before he even hit American soil, Naghmeh pulled a 180, and was down at the divorce courts, accusing her husband of abuse. Amazingly (or perhaps not), her accusations were taken seriously, despite the fact that her husband was in an Iranian prison during the time he was supposedly abusing her.

Here are two innocent, virginal wives who turned on their men, the second it was advantageous to do so. With this in mind, can we honestly say that marrying a so-called virgin is a better idea than marrying a skank-ho prostitute?

Fetishizing virginity is merely a holdover from an earlier age. Five hundred years ago, it actually was advantageous to marry a virgin. The husband would have his friend (the “best man”) carry out evidence of his wife’s virginity from the wedding chamber. The doors would then be locked up, and the couple would fuck with abandon for a few weeks. The expected pregnancy would result in at least one potential heir, that could inherit the husband’s wealth. The second and third children, well, it’s anyone’s guess who their fathers were, but the first one was statistically (there’s that concept, again) more likely to be a blood relative of the putative father.

Suppose a young brother marries a virgin today. What would I advise him to do?

Get a DNA test for any child that is born in your house.

Suppose another young brother marries a prostitute. I’d advise him the exact same thing.

Suppose a virginal bride begins causing trouble at home. What should the authorities tell her?

Get your ass back home and obey your husband.

Now, this isn’t what the authorities tell wimminz in our society. In our feminist state, they are coddled, and encouraged to slut it up. Even so, in a normal society, troublemaking wouldn’t be tolerated.

Suppose a former prostitute marries, and does the same thing? The proper response, in any normal society, would be precisely similar.

If two wimminz, one a virgin, and the other a prostitute, make a promise, is one expected to keep it, and the other given a pass for breaking it?

In conclusion, I’ll anticipate the usual scoffing by my critics, who will talk about me being a male skank-ho slut, and having written this after spending too many weekends down at the STD clinic with various Tinder skanks. They’ll dismiss my article as the result of a slanted worldview after a life of immorality.

The reality is that 100% of the wimminz I know, including my mother, grandmother, sister, and female cousins, have all proven to be exactly the same in kind and character, as the most hardened prostitutes. All are wimminz. The fact that a few of my relatives (and by no means all) have been effectively controlled by Mormon mores and the fear of shaming, does not change this in any way. If my sister finds it advantageous, she’ll divorce her husband tomorrow, and make her kids bastards. I know this as surely as I know the sun will come up tomorrow.

Yes, there are variations in populations. No, it doesn’t mean you should marry a wimminz, even if that wimminz is a virginal young cupcake of 18, who has never laid eyes on a cad. You do this at your peril.