TELLING A WOMAN YOU LOVE HER IS TELLING THE BITCH A LIE

by Mr. Mean-Spirited

 

 

 

A nice guy will inform any number of girlfriends that he loves them when he obviously experiences nothing of the sort – but if a man says that he hates your guts, you can be damn sure he means it.  Only the negative emotions are completely genuine. A humanitarian will always leave people feeling good about themselves whether it’s merited or not, but a man of honor lets other human beings feel exactly what they deserve to feel.  Better to be honest with your well-reasoned loathing than to be dishonest with your well-rehearsed lies. 

RECYCLING TURNS NICE GUYS INTO PUSSIES

by Mr. Mean-Spirited

I don’t know what it is, but there is something about the act of recycling that takes a nice guy and turns him into a mincing faggot.

It is not just that recycling programs always cost more money than the regulations save. Recycling is never self-supporting; like all municipal garbage disposal, salvaging requires quite hefty tax subsidies – in order that adequate amounts of cash can be discretely crammed into the pockets of union thugs. And because waste reuse is so well-intentioned, because recycling is so well-meaning, citizens have no incentive to pry into all the ways that money is embezzled. But recycling is a pansy activity for more reasons than liberal pilfering.

It is not just that government-mandated recycling wrecks a citizen’s freedom. Humanitarians never want anything to be voluntary; in order to feel themselves morally superior to the common folk, the liberals always display a need to tell the masses what to do. Recycling is a domestic ceremony that reinforces the notion of a benevolent state. But recycling turns you into wuss for more reasons than being told what you must do with all your wrinkled, flaccid, emptied tubes of Vaseline.

It is not just that recycling is so sort of communal ritual. Logically, it matters not one whit whether you toss your liquor bottles in a landfill or recycling bin. The activity of one paltry person is of no consequence to anything: the world is not going to come to an end because you happen to toss your beer cans out the car window. What communitarians always want is your conformity. The bureaucrats send compliance officers after those who fail to enthusiastically participate. But recycling turns you into a limp-wristed weakling for more reasons than just your cowardice to violate the neighborhood watch committee’s restrictions on trash disposal.

What is wrong about recycling is that it inconveniences you in order to benefit hypothetical taxpayers in the future. Reusing product packaging makes your life a nuisance just so that some future generation might get an advantage over you. Recycling gives some person in the future a better life at your sacrifice. Forcing you to sort through your garbage is just one of the many irritations and annoyances that the bureaucrats dream-up so that future generations can disport themselves at your expense.

What are you, going to live forever? Why the fuck would you care if all the earth’s resources are used up after you’re dead?

This notion of a better future for someone else diminishes you as an individual. A wimp is not a coward, but a dupe who cares more about others than he does about his own lifestyle. A pansy puts other people first. There is a reason why the homosexual caucus is always pushing recycling: a cocksucker gives some other guy a good time ahead of himself.

Life was already trashed when you first entered it, so it is only fair that the world will be full of trash when you leave. On your way out, you might as well leave a bit of stinking rubbish to tickle the nose hairs of the do-gooders. You have no future anyway.

A GIRLFRIEND IS A POOR SUBSTITUTE FOR A CALL-GIRL

by Mr. Mean-Spirited

 

Falling in love with an unworthy woman is an error that happens to the best of us. Romance with an undeserving female is a mistake that we all make.

Sure, it is easy enough for passion to get the better of you. Maybe you just can’t scrape together enough cash to pay for an hour with a high-class call girl, so you fall in love with an acquaintance just so you can empty your prostate gland into an empty orifice. But a girlfriend is a piss-poor replacement for a talented streetwalker. A lover is always going to cost you more money, cost you more minutes, cost you more mental anguish than the services of an accomplished harlot.

Only a fool might imagine that sex is the most important thing in life. Fornication is just one of those bothersome things in this life; you’ve got to resign yourself to having an orgasm whenever you feel the urge. Getting the semen sucked out of the body ranks up there with squirting the snot out of your nose. Ejaculating sperm rates about the same as evacuating your bowels. An erect penis is like a full bladder – you need to relive yourself in order to get on with more weighty matters. Fornication has got to be done in order that you can move on to more important things. Look, before the First World War, a cultured European would visit the brothel during his afternoon lunch so that he might clear his mind for more consequential matters that evening; intercourse was just another inconvenient errand.

An experienced prostitute makes sex less of a nuisance. A broken-in hooker makes fucking less of biological burden. Consider the advantages of getting your copulation completed with the assistance of a professional sex worker.

No risk of pregnancy with an experienced professional. A streetwalker is not going to poke holes in a condom in order to trick you into fatherhood. You don’t need to worry about 18 years of indentured servitude after incautious ejaculation.

No more expensive than a decent dinner for two on a first date (and you don’t even have to take the call girl to a movie). Once you pay the hooker off, your don’t have to spend any more money on the woman – no gifts, no help with her bills, no surprises. In the long run, a prostitute always works out to be the most economical copulation.

No emotional entanglements with a prostitute. You don’t face the peril of falling in love with the body that you use for fornication. After the way that you have been treated in life, you aren’t going to want any romantic entanglements with anyone. The whore already detests you, and you will always despise the bitch afterwards.  

No reason why you should keep your sexual fantasies backed-up in your subconscious. You can complete whatever perverted act might bottled-up in your perverted mind – and get them out of your system. Fantasies are something you should realize as quickly as possible – and forget even faster.

And most important of all, no need to keep the hooker around once you are finished. You don’t have to listen to her talk and talk and talk when you could be doing something a lot interesting like reading this book.

Jesus Christ, man, you’ve seen yourself in the mirror when you get out of the shower. Would you truly, would you really, would you honestly want to sleep next to a woman who would actually have sex with the likes of you? Think of what she must have already done with her body to now be willing to copulate with you. If she is willing to take your dick into her mouth, think of what must have been in that orifice last night.

At least with a streetwalker, your cash compensates for your rather obvious shortcomings. Would you actually want to fall in love with a woman desperate enough to find you attractive? Can you trust the judgment of a female who would find you desirable?

The services of a trained prostitute are the most practical solution to your embarrassing tumescence.

 

YOUR PARENTS BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD AS A PRACTICAL JOKE

by Mr. Mean-Spirited



Where did you get the idea that your parents brought you into this life because they wanted you?  Whoever said that your parents brought you into this world because they wanted something to love? 

No, your parents created you as a sort of practical joke, a prank at your expense.  With abortion readily available, the only reason your mother gave birth to you was because she wanted you to suffer.  You were only birthed because they wanted something to loathe.

Now think hard about all the pain your have experienced growing up.  I said really think about it.  Remember how your parents used to snicker whenever you fell down?  Do I have to remind you of that condescending smirk on the faces of your relatives whenever they spoke to you?  Surely you must recall how your own family always sabotaged anything that you really wanted to do in life.  Your parents obviously wanted this harm to come to you.

Mark my words, your parents created you because they wanted something around to hate.  Your mother looked at the world and wanted to deliver a nasty surprise to this earth; your mother grunted you out because she wanted to inflict this planet with a little something even more detestable than her existence.  Your mama was constantly made fun-of, so she wanted to leave behind a creature even more ridiculous than her.

When you consider that your parents wanted you to experience this agony … well, it all begins to make sense.  Everyone started sniggering at you the moment when the doctor gave you that first slap.

Your life is the butt of a joke, my friend.  And you know what?  They’re still laughing at you.