We <3 Violence

“Sometimes, periodically I struggle with the possibility I could hurt somebody. That sometimes it’s orgasmic. What does it mean when fighting gets you erect, what does that mean?” -Mike Tyson

Why do us men crave and relish the experience of war? What is it about bloody fists and black eyes that secretly gives us a swift injection of joy? If we knew, we could never explain it due to the possibility of being looked at as maniacs. Do we even know?

Sure, some might trace it to our evolutionary needs. We survived and thrived as a species by kicking dinosaur ass and when we replicate the experience our tiny brain feels good knowing we live to fight another day and didn’t get eaten so we can carry on our genes and make babies. Yay?

I don’t think that’s it. Maybe that’s the late night beer talking. I mean, it is IT. But there’s more.

Maybe it’s sadism? Maybe all men are oddball freaks that have a weird hidden fetish for destruction?

Nah, joking. I don’t live in California and I ain’t gay.

Maybe it’s just a rebellious thing. Society wants us neutered and lame so we literally fight back by engaging in extreme acts of whoop ass to own the pozzed deep state that runs this soft gynocentric world.

I don’t fucking know. Chalk it up to hidden alien probe programming for all I care. All I know is every man needs to experience violence to feel fulfilled. Whether it’s simulated, friendly, murderous, video game driven.. pick your poison.

We are men. We love to fight.

This has been drunk writing with Red Beard. Fuck off.

Pretend You Can’t See Her

It’s another night of unrest. Another night of playing this inter-gender game of chess called romance. You flip and turn restlessly thinking about whether or not you made the right play.

You tell yourself that it’s no big deal if you lose her because there will be always be more women. It’s true. But it’s not her.. you wanna eat every fruit in the bowl and that one slipped from your grip.

The missed potential is burned in the back of your mind and phantom pain creeps in every once in a while to send shockwaves through your testicles.

In a perfect world, there would be no games. You tell her you want to spend your lives together. Or maybe you tell her she’s beautiful and charming but you can’t commit and just want to keep things casual. And she would accept it for what it is. No ego. No being left on read or loss of attraction to worry about. Just taking things at face value.

You could tell her in detail about how you wish to cuddle with her during those cold winter nights with a hand between her thighs and her face resting on your broad chest.

Her smiling satisfied face covered in your semen and your itchy beard drenched in her lady juice. You’re both in love. For the rest of your lives. For the night. Whatever.

But it ain’t a perfect world. Instead we fuck around.. we time our DM responses so we don’t seem needy. We tease, mock and refuse to answer anything honestly because we are afraid of being hurt. No one wants to admit how badly they want each other.

I still think about that canceled wine date with….

I still think about that alternative chick I could have vibed to Nirvana with after I blow her back out….

I still think about the crazy girl that sent me nudes that I never got to meet up because I pissed her off….

I still think about that girl I message here and there but can’t find the nutsack to be upfront with….

So I just pretend I don’t see her. Pretend I don’t miss her.

Current Year Blues

I was born in the wrong decade. About 40 years too late to my estimation.

Now I know every edgy neglected teenager likes to claim he missed the golden years because everything now sucks sweaty ass cheeks, but honestly.. I really did miss it.
Born too late for World War 2 and missed my chance to have bullets pierce my pale skin in the bloody trenches.
Born too late to witness the genesis of the sexual revolution where loose women would have dropped acid with me and gave me tooth-filled blowjobs before vomiting from an overdose..
Born too late for 1980s New York City where the mob ruled the state with an iron fist and you couldn’t enter Copacabana without brushing shoulders with a capo and his goomah..
You get the point I’m trying to make, right?
Yes you do, folks.
[CURRENT YEAR] sucks uncircumcised cock. I am stuck in the generation of faggy selfies, sex bots and OnlyFans.

Bitching about it is pointless but I can’t sleep so fuck off.

We now live in a time where genuine connection between humans keeps alluding us and is replaced by texting.
A time where the family unit is being raped before our very eyes.
A time where honor and masculinity is just another buzzword used for virtue signaling and gaining favor with people you plan to scam.
A time where my fucking olive oil is being replaced with canola.

What the fuck is going on in planet earth?
How did we lose it all so quickly?
Shit, maybe dictatorship wasn’t such a bad idea.

We really can’t be trusted with our freedom.
I cry out for the days where we hunted bears and hung out with chimps before going to our wholesome little cave of a house to fuck the shit out of our thick skulled cavewoman.
Yeah, I know it’s highly likely I would have been stomped to death by a T-Rex.. who cares? At least I wouldn’t be able to lose my job and digital bank account for calling a hermaphrodite a grade A cunt.

I am not in favor of being blackpilled whatsoever, but damn it.. I really sympathize with those who are knees deep in the river of shit called modernity.

The only things keeping me sane in this horrid time period is being able to lift weights, being able to flirt with big buzzom women and see their tits, being able to experiment with illegal chemicals and the option of potentially stabbing someone in an alley should he piss me off.

Life isn’t all that bad though, as long as you spiritually stay strong and avoid Satan’s traps as much as you can..
If you can still bench press, life is still good.
If you still got the money to buy a private island and tanks, life is still good.
If you got at least ONE decent friend, life is still good.
If you read this blog and think I am half-way interesting or wise, life is still good.

Life is still good, right?
You know we’re allowed to vent, bitch and moan here and there because I fucking said we can.
Life ain’t all roses and pink pussy. Shit’s rough.
But we get through.
We all make it.
That’s life.

Yes, Daddy

What is it about the latest societal trend of barley fertile women calling bearded men daddy?

I asked myself this question quite often lately. I’d be a liar if I said I don’t get a mammoth sized erection when I hear her utter those words though. But still, I just can’t quite grasp it.

You can make the argument that it’s a good representation of how all those rainbow haired ladies lacked a strong father figure and are compensating, you can chalk it up to submission play and kink. Honestly? I think most women just follow the linguistic degenerate trends in order to help better service our naughty parts.

But what does a “daddy” even do?

Well, what does a father do?

-Sets boundaries

-Educates and gives life lessons

-Punishes you when you mess up so you do better

-Protects you even when you’re a little shit

Ah shit, add aggressively fucks and bruises your esophagus and that’s a daddy.

In my experience anyway? Others will concur.

I guess in this decaying age of postmodern “men and women”, a daddy is necessary.

It’s hard work, but when she’s on her knees and begging to swallow your genetic load with a genuine smile and a glitter in her slutty eyes.. it’s worth it.

Fuck it all if that ain’t goddamn romantic to you.

Governments fall, people die, plants rot.. but memories of her spunk soaked face after you skullfucked her to tears? That’s eternal.

I need a shower. Make love, not oil wars.

Always wrap the willy.

I Could Have Fucked Cher

After an hiatus from “writing” and too much free time which resulted in excessive nut tugging, let’s tell the freshly squeezed tale of how my desire to climb up Cher’s skirt was foiled by two oddballs.

It was a warm-ish summer night when my friend and I decided to hit up the local pub armed with cigars and Zippo lighters for some good vibes and the potential of having our face washed with waxed cooch.

We sat down and lit up that Dominicano tobacco, looking extremely sexy and possibly menacing if you are a skinny twink passing by.

Suddenly, our waitress (?) arrived to provide service smelling the potential for tips and the masculine pheromones.

Instantly, I could tell I wanted to paint the walls of my house with her vaginal fluids. She was a fairly tall, mildly alternative looking chick with a cute face that desperately needed my wad over it.

I made random convo to break ice and bust balls (ovaries?), asked her name and introduced myself.

Her name was Cher. Like the singer but less cringey and probably better looking with a collar on.

I won’t bore with lame details of what was said, this isn’t a game site. I will say she seemed legit interested and not just tip whoring.

I sent her off to fetch me wine and then trouble came..

A mildly inebriated lad sitting near inquired about our cigars and tried to make convo. Seeing as I ain’t a cunt with ego, I indulged him and we chatted a bit.

He seemed harmless at first. Spoke Italian, former bartender. Odd looking but friendly. He drank about two liters of beer. He was with his Russian friend. A funny fat lad who screams instead of talking. Alright, they were entertaining. We let em join the table.

WHAT. A. FUCKING. MISTAKE.

What started as innocent cigar and travel talk turned into them yelling about politics and scaring off every women in sight. Including Cher. I went from baller mafioso to unwanted personality because I let myself be seen with those fuckers.

The Russian dude started ranting about blacks in front of the African workers and if it wasn’t for me he might have gotten stabbed.

Goddamnit. There I was talking to a beautiful goth-lite chick who produces techno that was probably up to swallow my kids in the bathroom and these fuckers scared her off.

They were so thrilled to be near us, I felt like a hassled celebrity. They even followed us to our car.

Was this how Sinatra had to deal with fans?

Anyway, I didn’t fuck Cher. I could have. Might go back there sometime soon and eat her asshole if possible. Hope this was good content.

Fuck off.

We live in a HOMOgenized society

It’s a Sunday Monday.

You wake up at 7:30 am, you slept like shit the night before and you barely get any morning wood anymore. You curse your maker and go take your piss with a hobo-ish limp because you’re still hungover from binge drinking cheap supermarket vodka for no apparent reason.

You stumble into the kitchen to see your shitty children. Your son who is a skinny little twerp with a face not even a mother could love from excessive soy consumption is eating a tofu omlette. Your daughter who is the town whore just finished taking her lame morning selfie for Instagram so 20 year old horndogs can beat off to her and send her cum tributes.

The wife is on her phone, you approach to give her a kiss and she pushes you away because you smell like dog semen and did not brush your yellow rotten teeth. She goes back to texting her Ethiopian lover you don’t know about because you are retarded.

It’s now 9:20 am.

You are on your way to work. You are stuck in traffic. Hopelessly puffing on cigarettes to ease your anxiety. Your therapist who is addicted to coke told you to quit but you never fucking listen. You contemplate jumping into the highway and committing suicide.

You don’t.

It’s 1:30 pm.

You finish your day of work a little early. Good for you, fuckhead. You are probably tired of sitting in a broken chair everyday in a cubicle designed according to the whims of some soulless corporate overlords.

You pack up your briefcase and leave the office to make your way home. On the way out you see some ugly dykes with shaved hair and their fat pink Mohawk having “male” friends, they point at you and laugh while lamenting on how lame and dumb it is to be an office working white man. They are also white but don’t work. You sigh and enter the car. Gas is empty. Damn.

4:00 pm.

You go back home. Finally. You have the rest of the day to yourself.

You can vaguely hear noise coming from upstairs. It’s just your hoe daughter fingering herself for OnlyFans. No big deal. Sex work is normal now.

You take a Xanny and turn on ESPN hoping to chill out. Your wife comes home with papers. What? Oh shit. The divorce papers. Today is the day. Fuck, how did you forget?

You try to convince her you should stay together but she won’t have it. She wants to be with Abraham. He is diverse, richer and knows how to facefuck her unlike you. He also has a six pack and steady access to steroid drug kingpins.

You finally cave in and sign the papers. You tell her you still love her. She says she never loved you in the first place. She leaves the house because her new man called her over to fuck.

You wipe your tears and go to bed. You wish you could beat her boyfriends ass and win her back. Suddenly you are filled with ancient rage and a desire to transform your miserable fucking life. You contemplate finally dieting, kicking your kids out and shooting the black lovers head off.

But you don’t. The Xanny kicked in and you fell asleep after jerking off. You have some jizz residue on your lips. You kill yourself the next day.

This is society.

My Beautiful Dark Twisted (Hypocritical) Fantasy

I say I want to live in a world where peace and equality are important values and everyone is free to live life their own way.

Fantasy.

I want to live in a world where only the strong survive and anyone who stands in my way is snuffed out and suffocated.

Fantasy.

I say I want society to be less materialistic and that people should be showing more humility.

Fantasy.

I want to buy fancy suits, expensive cars and blow cigar smoke in poor people’s face.

Fantasy.

I say I want monogamy to make a comeback and that we should all settle down with a nice traditional housewife and spawn twenty five kids.

Fantasy.

I want to creampie liberal art hoe sluts in a dirty alley and never call them back.

Fantasy.

I say criminals and mafiosos are scumbags and shouldn’t be idolized.

Fantasy.

I want to shoot people dead like Tony.

Fantasy.

No one man should ever have all that power and I will never ever let you live this down.

Iron Mike Mindset

“I’ll fight anybody my trainer puts me in with because I’m confident I can beat any fighter in the world.” – Mike Tyson

Mike Tyson is not only the baddest man on the planet, he is also one of the smartest.

Most people see Mike as an idiotic barbarian but those people are unwashed, half-baked assholes.

His knowledge on history and spirituality is incredibly impressive. His street smarts are unparalleled. But today I want to talk about PERSEVERING. And use Mike Tyson’s words as a way to make my point.

We should all aspire to be like the best qualities of Mike Tyson.

Aggressiveness. Brutality. Compassion. Faithfulness to God. Humility in old age.

Sounds like the perfect man to me.

“As long as we persevere and endure, we can get anything we want.” – Mike Tyson

When Mike Tyson grew up, he had nothing. He was a broke ass street bum who hustled and assaulted his way into opportunity. He came from the shits, his mother was a hooker and he was a booze fiend that was most likely gonna end up shot in the NY streets.

All he knew was fighting. But he didn’t even know he could box. That is until he met famed boxing trainer Cus D’Amato who convinced him to do so at a young age after which he adopted him, seeing the raw talent this random street kid had impressed him so much that he was determined to create a champion out of him. The spirit of the warrior was already in his soul.

Besides being a genetic freak, his work ethic was remarkable. He once broke his back during fight camp because he did 2,000 fucking sit ups. Yeah.

“This championship, this was the stuff I dreamt of all my life, and I wasn’t gonna be denied.” – Mike Tyson

Mike Tyson went after his goals like a motherfucking hitman with a ticking clock. He wanted it and he wanted it fast, and he did it. Fast.

Youngest world champ in boxing history.

Made huge amounts of money.

Shattered box office records.

Had a harem of women.

That street kid went from zero to hero.

“That’s what people respect, the fact that I wasn’t a chump that laid on his back and gave up.” – Mike Tyson

Cus D’Amato told Mike Tyson all the time that his destiny was to rule the world until Mike believed it fully.

And then when he did, there was no stopping him.

Believe in yourself and go devour the world.

That’s what I wanna do.

What Would Ric Flair Do?

Whenever I face a major dilemma I ask myself one thing..

What. Would. Ric. Flair. Do?

For example, a woman wants you to settle down and commit, forcing you to leave the rock n’ roll lifestyle behind.

What would Ric Flair do?

He would tell her to hit the road and then visit the nearest bar, drink ten martinis and have some groupie ride Space Mountain.

Wooo!

What if I need to go out and take care of some business and need new clothes for the occasion? Should I buy safe, cheap, trendy outfits?

No. Ric Flair would be buying a bitchin’ custom made suit that costs more than your house.

Wooo!

What if someone tells me I need to give up on my dreams and live the normal life like everyone else?

Did Ric Flair give up on his dream wrestling career when doctors told him he could never wrestle again after breaking his fucking back in a plane crash?

NO. He kept on wrestling for the next 30+ years!

WOOOOOOO!

Be like Ric Flair.

No explanation needed.

Forgive Yourself

One of the worst feelings in the world is when you make a major mistake you know you shouldn’t have made.

That shit stings in the bottom of your soul. The disappointment in yourself can be devastating.

You tell yourself “how can someone so smart do something this fucking dumb?”

It’s a valid question.

But the answer doesn’t really matter.

What’s done is done. No need to beat yourself up over it for the next five months. It’s over.

Just keep moving forward and do what’s right to avoid making the same mistake again.

Forgive yourself.

The world doesn’t need you in self-hate mode for one dumb screw up.

Forgive. Even though God knows how hard that can be..