thoughts

Kitten Ballad

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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

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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

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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

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“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

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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

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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

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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.

As We Move Towards New World Order

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As the moon shines down on me and I walk through these empty streets in this state of emergency, I feel no sense of urgency.

Toilet paper supply is gone and the people are running scared.

Propaganda spooking people on Channel 12, people dying.

Housewives crying.

Rights are trampled yet again in the name of “security” and it feels like no one ever remembers our history.

But I don’t care.

I dwelled on the negatives and became bitter like Avi, I was so fucking sour like Wasabi.

But that’s how the wretched win. If we let some scumbag bugmen who mass engineer plagues in a lab as tools of anarchy get to our state of being. If we let them dim our light.

Not gonna let them do it. I will stay unaffected by this overhyped catastrophe.

Remain young and full of joy, with no care in the world. Making the best out of a shitty situation. Doing something I haven’t done in ages.

I will defy quarantine. I will roam nature.

The cool wind in my face and that spring weather hitting me like a speeding car. The world isn’t ending. Not for me.

I will continue to enrich mind, spirit and body and steer clear of the wicked.

I will feed ducks in the park!

I had a great reminder that despite all of Satan’s influence on this world, God’s purity still watches over us and no matter how much the House of The Devil tries to bring us down, we can win everytime if we keep the flames alive.

If you take care of your family, you will win.

If you remain with your brothers, you will win.

As long as you still raise your children in the side of light, you will win.

Everyone is going to sleep, but we are still awake.

No one can ever end The Enlightened as long as fire burns in our heart.

May Jesus bless you.

May Allah bless you.

May Elohim the God above bless you.

We aren’t done here. Don’t lose hope.

Still Dreaming

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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.

The Importance of Friendship

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“Friends! How many of us have them?”

Every wolf needs a pack.

Sure, some do alright on their own but I wouldn’t say that it’s ideal. We need allies. Reliable people by our side.

Friends.

We need those like-minded people that can keep up with our crazy bullshit and ambitions as riders. 

I used to think it was best to go through life as a lone wolf, but that’s because I never met anyone that really got my lifestyle or what I do. I tried to put puzzle pieces where they didn’t fit.

When I finally met some glorious bastards that could hold their own with an eccentric barbarian like me, it was a match made in Heaven.

We learned from each other. We taught each other. We trained with each other. We laughed with each other. We made the bitter pill of life taste a whole lot sweeter. Together.

If you can find an awesome motherfucker that treats you with respect, doesn’t bullshit you and appreciates your presence.. make sure to hold on to that someone until given a reason to do otherwise.

Kings dine together.