The most effective bitchblock ever

Summer time, being outside in good weather, recovering inside in bad weather, trying to create during worktime, good stories happening, good memories added to the book of life.

That day I was dead tired. I still went out with some friends. Lesson to self: when tired, sleep.

We were on the dancefloor, me basically cursing at the dj for playing music from the eighties and nineties. Creme de la crap stuff. Then I see her.

Looks like the woman of the lanister midget from game of thrones. Bit shorter, bit cuter, much younger, and definitely more innocent. Missing is the thousand yard stare.

Catch her looking at me. Does not take her eyes away for a time that defines eternity in this land where eye contact is reduced to trying to spot a fast turning head. Even eternity ends. She puts her eyes down. One. Two. Three. Back up.

Then I walk up to her, hi. Hi. Decide to acknowledge her group. Three over the hill chubsters, and one who I will retrospectively name wo-beast. Done. Back to her.

"You make me all red" she says. The girl is blushing. Damn. Cute.

Some words, and I see, from the corner of my eye, a mass moving. Wo-beast here close to the girl says something.

Redcheeks turns to me "You look like David Hasselhof"

Agree, amplify, and mentally note that a bitchblock is being set up. Let first one slide, could be that I do look like the nightrider to wo-beast.

Wo-beasts mass moves again close to Redcheeks, says something to her ear, and Redcheeks asks my age.

Some play there, getting guessed 40, smiling, saying Damn that would've been great,

When I see Wo-beast preparing to say something again, I decide to interjected, cut the bitchblock from its roots.

"I'll have your friend for a few more minutes, you can handle her safety for that time without interrupting us." Is what I got in my head.

Until I turn.

Until I see with my eye what has all the time been in the corner of my eye, what I just glimpsed at in the initial moments.

Words flow back down my throat, bile comes up. My breath gets short, I can smell the putrid acid in ky breath.

Short girl, wider than tall. Arms bigger than mine, short, puffy and layers of fat. Built like an oversized ball with arms protruding. A round face. Even the forehead must have fat as the eyes were deep, way deep in the face.

I can't open my mouth. I am trying to keep ky stomach down.

Had she been a nice human being with copious amounts of fat, this would not be the situation. Overweight people that have humanity in them, decency and dignity in them, I got no problem with. Especially the ones in the gym, in the forest running paths, on the bicycles to work.

But the behavior, the rudeness, the unpleasantry, the smudge look in her face. The happiness in having shat on a possible connection.

Puke.

So I turn back to Redcheeks, manage to get thirty more seconds until fat fucking wo-beast interrupts by holding her hand, pulling her.

I turn, this time a about to say Fuck off, kindly.

Words scare down, bile rises up. Mouth shuts. Revulsion builds up.

So I grab the girls arm, pull her to me.

Wo-beast comes along.

I once again want to say something, but at this moment, looking into those ugly eyes happy with triumph of having fucked up a good situation, into those dark, soulless eyes, I literally feel bile rising to the thought of having to interact with this ugly shit piece of soul that has eaten away its humanity with only filth left behind.

I swallow. I have to do this for Redcheeks.

Nope. Stomach muscles not agreeing. Even the image Redcheeks lying naked and sweaty in my bed cannot stop the volcano rising.

Wo-beast pulls Redcheeks away into the chubster circle with her sausage fingers connected to a ball of palm, making all look like a blown up latex glove.

Could not rescue Redcheeks from that diseased putrid soul. Even now thinking about the evil, ugly, diseased, putrid, rotten soul that I saw in those eyes buried in face fat, my throat tenses.

Had she been a nice person, now I would remember her as one of the pleasant people I met in the night, overweight or not, and wished her luck for her life. But she was not. She chose not to be.

Puke.

Kill that brainwashed sucker inside you

Meeting her for the second time, shy girl, signs of her being good company, knows damn well how to combine sexy and classy, and a damn fine dame.

Venue is too loud, conversation flowing slow, her friend is also being good company, venue change not currently possible, and the dj sucks big time.

No problem, she leans forward to talk with her friend, who has been the total opposite of a cockblock, my hand goes to the shoulder.

First am gentle, then I squeeze. I love to squeeze.

She turns with a pained look in her face,
"Auu"
I reply "Mmmmmmm",
She turns back to her friend, I continue with the shoulder. Then the neck, the I catch the sucker in ky head thinking
"I can ask her to tell me if she wants me to stop"
...WTF...?

She has shown no sign of discomfort except some realized pain, to which she presented her shoulder back to me... WTF is the sucker inside my head doing?He is doing what he has been thought to be doing. Being all sensitive and supporting, and robbing her of future possibilities of sky high pleasure. All in the name of being a good man. Like the project... I silence the sucker;
Move to the neck, caressing and playing with hair.
The wool shirt goes off, exposing bare shoulders and neck.

The sucker, again,
"I can ask her to tell me if she wants me to stop"
Bitchslapped back to silence.

I am squeezing the back of her neckx, slightly pulling her hair, to which she turns to me and looks at me, accusingly, says nothing, and goes back talking to her friend while presenting her neck.

I am enjoying every second of this when the sicker tries to break the silence again,
"I can ask her to tell me if she wants me to stop"
... I stop what I am doing, my hand resting on the warm, welcoming neck, and do a three second battle in ky head.

The brainwashed sucker who now and then decides to show his face, and voice his objections of me doing what I want to do, and what I got to do, and what I should do, is once again buried under six feet of fucker concrete. The sucker zombie now and then manages to surface, but the more you kill him, the easier it gets to kill him later.

With experience you learn that the sucker leaves you unsatisfied, the woman disappointed and unsatisfied;

Killing him softly, every time results in pleasure for you and her.

The brainwashing is so strong that the sucker may be immortal by now, but my balls produce enough fuckers concrete to bury him deep almost every time.

Payer dearly for the few times I listened to the sucker. By lost opportunities, by lost years.

May that be a lesson for you.

There is an enemy inside your head, take the red pill to identify him, use your balls to bury him deep.

Incapacitate in any way possible.

You owe it to yourself and the man starved womanfolk out there.

Ignoring the invasion and the treason that comes with it

Came downtown, alone, because all my friends are working people and they are tired in the eve, once again to observe that half the people in town are vibrants who are in town any time any tine, every day, just hanging around.

I realized that the only way to keep sanity is to ignore. Pretend that space occupied by the vibrant does not exist in the time space continuum. Blank space. Neutral.

This also includes not posting about them, the media or the state.

This includes not writing my post about best game being getting a working people to pay a non working people to hang around and socialize with women, adding to the insult the media people pushing the notion that being a parasite is cool, fucking a parasite is cool. The people wonder why the working people are prejudiced against parasites who hang around 24 7 while the working man goes to bed at ten, earning money so parasites fan be fed.

This includes not writing about the parliaments idiotic decision to allow foreigners' votes to be used to form new political parties when somehow you don't have German, Icelandic, Swedish, English, Indian, Japanese, Chinese immigrants interested in politics because they see a somewhat working system close to the system they came from. The only people who show an interest in politics are the ones from shitholes, who somehow have convinced Tue progressive traitors that Tue west can import some valuable political idea from a place that nobody wants to emigrate into and apparently everybody wants to get out of.

I will not write about the media patting its back, proud that it somehow proved the Finns party's ties with anti Islamists, when the guy the Finns are apparently against are the only ones actively participating in "death to the west" rallies.

I will not write about the vibrants who hang around bus stops all day to talk to women, and even follow them when rejected, paid by the state, nor will I write about guys that are uneducatable, hanging in high class clubs every effing weekend as the state provides them with "disco money", while the working man has to budget his going outs.

That means me not writing about my conversation with another foreigner saying "Dude, the danger is not the Finn. Every time I am out, I am risking a fight with vibrant 1 and vibrant 2... Not yet have I had a problem with a Finn, but these fuckers are itching for a fight.", of course the media portrays this once again as the Finns' fault.

Means I will not write about the middle easterners who intentionally sit across us, shout some obscenities, and try to drill their eyes into mine when they see me ptalking with two middle easterners, or Tue Africans who looked at me as if the would plunge a machete through ky stomach because I was being friendly with an mulatto  art friend of mine. Nor will I write about the hypocrisy that these same groups complain about racism, and Tue throw avid into one of their girls' face when she is seen with a westerner. And as usual, the media portrays the Finns not liking their women copulating with parasites as racists, but ignores the fact that it is these parasites committing honor violence, and blames the Finns' racism for honor violence acted on a vibrant by a vibrant because of the vibrant culture.
I will not write about these stuff, because I cannot solve them, and the whole establishment is in treason against its own people. I need to keep my sanity.

Nor will I write about the vibrant who spent half his time as bartender in some dive bar, and the other half on welfare, driving an Audi Q6 jeep, when the working man has to count every penny when buying a car, nor the vibrant, unemployed, never employed, fathering four children from four women, when the working man has to plan the finances for child, assuming is finds a woman that deems him worthy for spawning non-bastards. Bastards be subsidized by daddy government, non-bastards not. And anyway, it is kind of cool to be the incubator for a half parasite. Oh, so cool.

Nor will I write about the Finnish kid bullied by two pieces of vibrant candy, the video put on YouTube, thousands of views, media... cricket cricket. Oh, yea, full page article on some vibrant bumblebee, dressed like a thug, hoodie, sagging jeans, 100 euro sneakers, complaining about the funny looks he gets.

Nor will I write about the people with patents to their names having to renew visas every year, while unicorns full time employed as welfare recipients for years no end get permanent visas... And we got an economic crisis? No shit.

Not even going into the assault, and rape statistics, because numbers be racissss. Not into every fight I witnessed involving a vibrant, usually as the first puncher. Nope. Light that reflects us what is in front of us, be racissss. Oh, forgot. Will not write about two vibrants gangraping a 15 year old girl, and getting one year probation. The media, instead of this, reports that the police is monitoring the net for racissss comments about this event. Any comment I will write about this will be racissss, as it is impossible as a decent human being to write anything else. Oh, wait again. Does Tue media report the Facebook and forum comments by vibrants that "The bitch deserved it". Of course not. Because the vibrants can not hold any racissss thoughts now can they? Vibrants' hate smells of humanist flowers. Then, maybe, just maybe, the media thinks that sex is a right for vibrants and the bitch deserved it because she did not want to service some angelic vibrants. Ok, I admit, there will be a post about the vibrants' and only vibrants' right to getting sexed.

I will not mention the street I avoid because of a community center that thinks the street belongs to that one centre's community, and looking at passer bys, until they pass by, always in multiple pairs of eyes. Yea, media cherishes this as the safety of the community, which means the non-safety of everybody else.

There were some more things I will not be writing about, but memory tricks me.
I will though, write about the educated, working class  middle easterner girls calling other vibrants street dogs, and not stopping there.

Now, multiculti shitheads traitors, you can't call a vibrant racist, can you?

Fucking insane dogs is what you are.

Your body, your choice, and...

Recently in my facebook status updates page, a wave of activism hit the wall.

Apparently a politician, (who I coincidentally deem as evil as it comes, and enemy of the people he rules over) said something about abortion and that lead to belly posts akin to slut walks. I don't follow the news of that locale, nor do I have any interest.

What the status updates showed were various famous people, lifting their shirt, and showing their mostly unattractive midsections, with the text

MY BODY
MY CHOICE

On it.

Men, women, I have not yet seen children, but there was a pregnant woman and also a woman with a baby on her arm.

Of course I was thinking on how that reflects on the other party in the sexual interaction, which goes like

My body
My choice
Your responsibility

If these people were really as sincere, genuine and wanting to be humane as they claimed, these bellies, unattractive as they are, would read:

MY BODY
MY CHOICE
MY RESPONSIBILITY

Of course that is too much to ask.