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.

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.

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. ❤

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.

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.

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.