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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

To Live Is To Die

The moment you no longer fear death, is the moment you can finally start living.

Death is nothing more than a slowly ticking clock that paces itself according to your choices and behavior in life.

Death is how you leave your mark in this world, no one is truly remembered until they die. It’s how you seal the letter of life.

We should thank the deity of death for reminding us to not waste a second and do our thing while we still can.

It’s not the act of perishing that really scares us, it’s going away too soon.

50 Cent said “Death gotta be easy, cuz life is hard”

That’s one of the realest lines ever put on wax.

Live well so you can die happy because you are gonna turn to dust anyway like it or not.

No Luciferian technocrat will ever change that. It’s inevitable. It’s God’s plan.

There is no escaping death. It’s the true benchmark of equality. Death doesn’t discriminate.

It’s not sexy but it needs to said.

Samael awaits.

Bulls, Balls, Perspective

An old bull and a young bull are on a hillside overlooking the herd below.

The young bull says, “Lets you and I run down this hill and fuck one of them cows.”

Old bull responded, “Lets walk down and fuck them all.”

Besides being an incredibly colorful and somewhat amusing tale, what’s the point of that anecdote?

It demonstrates mentality and perspective.

The bull that’s young, dumb and full of rum thinks with his dong and is looking for a quick release. He wants to bolt down there with the old homie and bang some cow coochie for a minute before blowing his load.

Old bull has been around the block and knows better. He knows there is no reason to rush those udders. He walks in his own pace because he knows patience is a virtue and by the time he warms up slowly walking down the hill, he would be in the best position to fuck whichever cow hoe he wants.

So now that I made the story even more obvious..

What can you learn from this post?

As the grizzled wrestling vets say..

SLOW. DOWN. YOU. ARE. WORKING. TOO. FAST.

No need to rush those dates or real estate deals or worry about not having 100k at the age of 20.

You can’t dash through life like The Flash and search for the easiest fix just because it’s there. You gotta take it SLOW, be clever and position yourself intelligently on the chess board of life.

I think that makes sense, yeah..

Take your fucking time and do things in a responsible and smart manner. By the time you finish your walk through life, you will be able to fuck any cow you want.

DISCLAIMER: THIS POST DOES NOT ENCOURAGE FORNICATION WITH COWS. MOO.

Still Dreaming

I want to lay down under a warm summer sun while gazing at the clouds, a joint in one hand and a book in the other. Complimented by loud 80s music (preferably Phil Collins), a delicate female lover by my side and flocks of birds flying over my head.

I want a secluded wooden cabin where I can quietly sip my pea protein shake and discuss Nietzsches philosophy with a hazel haired beauty that has a penchant for getting lovingly choked.

I want children to reject consumerism and embrace physical culture. I want my little brothers to hunt more snails instead of playing FIFA. I want my cousins to do pull ups, not eat soy and learn some Muay Thai.

I want society to truly allow people to be themselves instead of saying it’s okay and then vilifying them at the first sign of trouble.

I want governments to not be ran by malicious reptilians who assassinate critics and help old creeps kidnap children.

I want to be able to sleep at night.

I want to make it past 21.

Dreaming.

3:30 AM.

Still dreaming.

Forever dreaming.