Foreign Digital Pussy

I hold a strong dislike for the majority of females in my country. I find them to be highly unpleasant and uneducated, with a sizeable ego and zero manners. Their aesthetic amount to feces. Nothing good.

In other words, they’re shallow fucking cunts who look like tanned balls. Most of them.

The “men” are even worse, don’t worry.

That’s why I always had a penchant to fantasize, fuck and sext exotic pussy from other continents. As broken as they might be, it’s better than home.

So much more reliable, submissive and pretty than the locals. The masculinity crisis of the west has made it easier for big trap cigar smoking studs to engage in LDR and secure foreign fuck toys for the future (present, if vacationing).

I love the fact that a chick with big tits on the other side of the world is playing with herself to my pictures and dreaming about fucking me. She might get to do it for real if I like her.

Literally had them call me a god.. small G. No blasphemy here. And I ain’t talking third world. I’m talking Canada and America and England.. which is foreign to me. Sigh.

Now there are decent dimes in the local economy, but it pales in comparison to the dollar. Ya dig?

Maybe if we had more artistic blue hair goths or BDSM loving Aryan blondes. A spicy brunette here and there.

It’s by no means me advocating to never touch a local, but if I do it makes me feel dead inside.

I’ll keep hustling though, ain’t no quitta bitch.

Online Gaming

It’s Sunday night.. the weather is cool, the steak you had was moderately tasty and you didn’t have a violent vomit attack tonight. Yay.

You spent most of the day drinking tea and taking vitamins, bullying your little brothers along the way in small doses.

Your friends are scumbags and they never wanna go out and when they do they always make you pay for their shit because they are broke and make bad business decisions.

There’s unanswered messages in your IG DMs because there’s girls you are ignoring. They’re being ignored because someone else ignored you so it’s time for your ego to feel good again.

You log into MGO 3 because everything is fucking boring. You play a few matches against some pimple faced Mexican cocksuckers and Italian finooks who rage quit every minute thus making you lose stats you progressed in.

You set up a new server but the fucking WiFi keeps dying so the game once again crashes and you lose even more stats.

You rage and yell and throw shit around because your estrogen is high from TRT.

It’s midnight and you just wanna grab someone, hang him on a tree, violate his girlfriend and flee the authorities on a boat.

You don’t. It’s midnight. Everything is boring.

You contemplate sending a DM to an ex-hoe so she can drain your mammoth balls. Don’t. Not worth it.

Boring. Boring. Boring.

I want a civil war and a sloppy tear filled blowjob. Now.

Wicked Instagram Tits

I have broken my writing hiatus to discuss an important topic. Tits. On Instagram. Of the kind that is attached to problematic girls you want to dig out.

You know the type of tits I am talking about. It’s not about the size of the milk transporter.. but the attitude. The “ohicantwaittobeexposeddaily somanymenwilljerktheircocktomeat2am” tits.

The “I hate my dad that never raised me right” tits.

The “I enjoy teasing and manipulating men more than I do getting actually fucked” tits.

Would be lovely if women could actually exist without whoring themselves online for attention and cum drops. So much for independent bad bitches.

There’s only three options when you encounter these tits.

  1. You try to ignore the tits, do your best to not be desperate and hopefully fuck some moral value into her once.
  2. Spam her with likes, orbit her, and have zero respect for yourself as you endlessly climax to her cleavage.
  3. Unfollow and ignore lol.

Option three is optimal but cmon.. a mans gotta eat. Or at least try.

There’s no real point or lesson to this other than bitches ain’t shit and in a perfect world we’d all be making bank and wearing Rolexes instead of chasing dumb e-hoes and being constantly erect.

She’s not trying to fuck or even have a nice convo. She’s a dopamine hunting pussydemon with a hollowed soul. Beware.

Take away the digital platforms and ability to get free drinks and they would die. Literally. Via hanging.

It’s not all bad though. They’re very entertaining. Always fun to mock. Maybe troll. If you smashed, even better. Just don’t wife.. don’t be a fag like John Legend.

This is the only type of content I could churn out right now. Feels shallow and cliché to discuss wymen but why not? It’s topical.

Men, avoid dead eyed attention seeking meatflaps. Find a girl that likes nature. But not TOO much nature.. because they just give head to hikers in the woods.

Go buy a cigar. I’m outtie.

Lana Del Rey

The ultimate role model for your run-of-the-mill hoe masquerading as an intelligent bad bitch while living a double life as an ice cream demolishing SSRI abusing semen powered machine.

When Lana said her pussy tastes like Pepsi Cola ® it was a true paradigm shift. She hit a massive spike DDT on our collective generation.

The sheer bravery of this groundbreaking statement, good God.

With her sultry voice and imaginary daddy that sells her coke, nothing was the same. She is responsible for girls giving top notch head worldwide although she probably slurps penile tissue mildly nowadays because she’s already famous and doesn’t need to seduce agents.

I actually like LDR songs because I’m a melancholy man-whore (in theory).

Although in 2021, she needs to go on Keto.. fuck it, I’d still hit.

Why is it that pretty art whores use Lana as a roaring symbol of female excellence while their tight punani is getting invaded on the lowkey by bearded RW bodybuilders?

In the current landscape of sexual dynamics, there is nothing more relatable than a sad used up pretty girl with dead eyes and unfulfilled potential who allegedly lives her best life but yearns for more. Fame can’t replace all the dick that broke your heart and your shitty dad. That’s my perspective which is the only true way to look at it. Shut up and post a seductive selfie that will make me aroused and ruin my day.

She’s an infinitely more rich version of depressed 19 year old white bitches from the Burbs.

God bless Lana Del Rey. Even though she worships Satan and whatever.

Regrets

Regrets suck. I try my best to never live with any of them but I’d be lying if I said it’s truly the case.

We all have some regrets. Some people will regret eating that pizza that caused them to vomit all over their anime body pillow, some regret blowing the one shot they had with their crush, some regret never telling their family how much they love them while they’re still around to hear.

Like I said, we all have regrets. I think most people try to hard too ignore them. They bury their regrets deep and thus they never truly cope with it.

How do you deal with it?

You don’t, they will always be buried in your subconscious unless you start smoking copious amounts of DMT..

You just gotta suck it up, live your life to the best of your ability and keep moving.

Embrace the fact you fucked up and you suck and keep improving until you make up for that one failure that haunts you.

That’s Life © and you can’t deny it.

Sinple really! But not really.

There’s no other way.

Alright, peace out.

HAPPY MOTHERFUCKING NEW YEAR.. ugh. ❤

Kitten Ballad

As heavy smoking wrecks havoc on my lungs, I reminisce on the potential lovers I pissed off and pissed on before I gave them the chance to wrap their pretty pink lips around my somewhat thick drum stick.

For I am God’s gift to women, the man who can do no wrong while spiraling out of control in a whirlwind of chaos and tits.

While I legitimately enjoy the prospect of no holds barred sex with the whores of Instagram, my biggest turn on is a nice and wholesome brunette who cooks me breakfast and loves me. Shocking isn’t it? I am aware.

I’m so bloody young and I’m already yearning for love. Fucking disgraceful. Where did it go wrong? Too much TV.

My biological imperative guides me to ejaculate and evacuate but even if I do that, why can’t I have both worlds?

When will the Lord give me a sexually depraved jezabel with a hint of elegance who will die for me and is mentally ill but also a good partner lacking toxic traits? Yeah, I know. Stupid.

A man can dream. Even if he does not sleep. Ever.

Groupie Love

Ah, groupies..

A staple part of the iconic rock n’ roll mythos.

What is it that compels young nubile women to leave it all and run off with degenerate guitar playing junkies who sound good on vinyl?

It’s interesting really. They say goodbye to school and hit the road with some larger than life jerkoff that’s drowning in a sea of meaningless pussy just to be another pretty face in the harem.

They spend all day giving fellatio to the gang and rambling about their hopes and dreams to a man who pretends he gives a fuck who just wants ass.

She is in love, the rocker is her entire world. And he.. well, his ego is in love. He likes her very much, but his ego.. his ego is infatuated.

He feels so good. This girl wants his babies, obeys his every word and is a grade A lay. She will cut her wrist if he says so, goddamn.

So much power over her. He loves her. Sort of. Does he though? He writes songs about her, she fuels his creativity, he loves life when she’s around.. but what happens when she nags.. or her insecurity becomes too toxic?

He cares for her, but how much longer can the show go on? I am not a rockstar. I can sure as hell relate though.

Just a little bit. A bit too much.

Good Morning

It’s a good day to be alive. It’s yet another step in our global path to Armageddon.

The sun is shining, birds are chirping, my head and testicles are equally in pain and both sport throbbing veins.

You wake up, down some painkillers and sext a barley legal e-girl.

She calls you daddy while her dad spents countless hours tearing up every night because she’s a fucking whore.

You eat some cottage, your gut becomes inflamed and you wanna throw up. You don’t but it hurts so you smoke a gas station cigar. The Cuban one is too pricey to waste right now.

The cheap tobacco clogs your lungs slowly but surly and the horrid taste distracts you from the never-ending pain of 2020.

You post seductive muscle pics to IG and troll some stuck up communist sluts with loose pussies. It’s very fun.

You bully your little brothers because you are bored due to government not letting you leave home because the plan is to kill the spirit of the already broken youth.

Maybe you watch Netflix while daydreaming about the Golden Days of the Mafia.

You go to bed. Can’t sleep.

Rinse and repeat.

Good morning. Fuck you.

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.