Creature Comforts

According to reports, BritPrince Harry will be living with his new Hollywood wife in a tiny village in the Cotswolds area of Oxfordshire, out in the west of Britishland — and from personal experience, I can attest to the place’s extraordinary beauty. There is a silver lining to his cloud (the cloud being his bossy, oh-so modern and trendy spouse): his “local” will be the Falkland Arms, and a pretty place it is too…

Alert Readers will notice the presence of Britain’s best brewery on the sign, which means that Harry, a renowned drinker in his youth, will be able to drink pints of Wadworth 6X… assuming his health-Nazi wife allows him to ever visit the place, that is.

Another Frigging Moron

I have often said that had I been Rick Blaine in the movie Casablanca, I would have arranged to have Major Strasser send that Commie rat Viktor Laszlo off to a concentration camp, then spent the rest of the war in Casablanca making boatloads of money from the bar and lots of babies with Ilsa.

I grant you that in my scenario above, Casablanca would have been somewhat different from the version as released, but that’s just me. Others, however,  are drawn to adventure, like this fool who is currently climbing Mt. Everest:

His name is Ben Fogle and he is an “adventurer”, which is all well and good while you’re a single young man with no responsibilities (which is why his counterparts in, say, the Marine Corps are considered expendable).

But Fogle leaves this behind to go on his adrenaline-junkie escapades:

It’s not just the fact that Marina Fogle is drop-dead lovely (which she is), but there are children involved. So when Daddy plunges to his death / gets eaten by a shark / dies of some hideous disease in a poxy jungle in some shithole country, these beautiful kids will have to come to terms with the fact that their Daddy thought that his adventures were more important than they were (which he clearly does).

Frankly, were I Mrs. Fogle, I’d ditch her selfish husband and hook up with someone more responsible. He wouldn’t have to be an accountant or lawyer or some equally-dreadful nebbish, just someone with a greater sense of familial duty than her existing husband. That she doesn’t do this makes her a better person than he is.

Nevertheless, Fogle will doubtless meet a pointless death like that Aussie idiot who was always playing with dangerous animals, and Mrs. Fogle can get on with her life. It’s just too bad that the kids have to suffer along the way.

Depressing Statistic

As Longtime Readers all know, I look on most “studies” nowadays with the utmost skepticism, being as they generally employ shoddy data collection techniques, poor sampling and / or stupid analytic conclusions.

All that said, I found this one, from this study, to be at least credible:

Most relationships start with terrible or awkward sex.

Well, duh. That’s true of pretty much most human interaction,because you’re on unfamiliar territory and you need to get things straightened out before you can make it work properly.

Within the report, however, was a factoid which I found downright depressing:

69% of Americans admit that they get feelings of excitement right before sex with a new partner.

Now the last time I had sex with a new partner was during the Clinton presidency, so my memory may be failing me. But FFS: what other feelings can one have before first-time sex, if not excitement? Dread? Nausea? Fear? Disgust? And to make it worse: if 69% of folks get excited before a first-time bonk, that means that 31% don’t get excited, which seems incredible. I can understand pre-bonk anxiety, of course — which over half of people admit to — but one can be anxious about something yet still be excited about it. But 31 percent?

As I suggested above, this may just be shitty data, in which case we can carry on with our lives. But if the data can be trusted, then we as a society are in deep shit when something so basic, so natural, and (speaking from memory again) so much fun is not exciting.

Sucker Bet

Anyone care to place a bet on how long this marriage will last, or how long it will take before Hubby has an affair?

…and I’ll also give 2-1 odds that the sex wasn’t that great, either.

Myself, I wouldn’t take any of those bets.

Of course, he might also be some pussified  beta man who was prepared to wait for three (!!!) years to get laid, and still thinks that she’s within her rights to deny him sex now that they’re married.

If I were to let my imagination run riot, I could see other possibilities:

  • she married Beta Boy because he’ll support her, but she doesn’t love him, OR
  • she’s already getting her sex from some Bad Boy and her husband doesn’t know, OR
  • she’s playing the long game, and is going to rape his bank account should he ask for a divorce after being denied sex once too often, OR
  • her long game is to file for a quickie divorce herself, then rape his bank account.

I’m also prepared to accept the power of “AND” in all the above scenarios, but I don’t think I’m too far off on any of them, though.

Fat Chance

So… now Millennial Grrrrls would rather date older men?

I’ve noticed a new strategy among my set of female friends—lovely, intelligent, independent women—to combat the grime of the online dating world: date up.
I don’t mean status, I mean age. More and more women I know are dating men twice, yes twice, their age.
There have never been more advantages to relationships with older men, precisely because Tinder and its ilk have made dating feel impossible to those of us who don’t want to participate in the battle of who-cares-less. Reach back two decades and you are more likely to find a man who can’t fathom swiping through a series of pictures to find a mate for the night.
Older men are attentive, they aren’t threatened by your career success, they didn’t grow up watching porn on their laptops, and they certainly don’t expect sex from you before you’ve even had a chance to meet. It’s not an “old-fashioned” dating scheme, it’s just a more humane one.

Hate to burst your bubble, sweetie, but for the (older) men of my generation, just the fact that you were ever on Tinder is an automatic disqualification. And that’s just the start. I wouldn’t claim to speak on behalf of my generation of men, but here’s what I see amongst today’s young women (I can’t bring myself to call you “ladies” because you are the most unladylike creatures imaginable).

Millennial women are hopelessly vapid, shallow and amoral creatures. They have no philosophy outside the most banal, bumper-sticker tropes, and they are enslaved to a trashy popular culture that men like myself find repellent and atrocious — think of Kardashian TV, Real Housewives Of [wherever], Jersey Shore, Britain’s TOWIE and so on. Millennial women are also enslaved to technology like Facebook, Twitter and the like, are chained to their vile “smart” phones and consequently have the attention span of gnats. Worse than that, Millennial women are sexually promiscuous, with all the ghastly, pox-laden potential consequences that such a lifestyle entails.

While all this may entice some older guys into what your Millennial male counterparts scornfully call a “pump & dump” relationship — i.e. a short-term, mostly physical encounter — it does not bode well for your prospects if you’re looking for more than that. Do you think that despite our supposed “ignorance” of modern technology, we’re unaware of situations like SugarBabies.com and their ilk? (FYI: we older men refer to this as “prostitution“, no matter what you were taught in your Fem Studies classes.) It’s an instructive lesson to hear how the men who sponsor these tarts characterize their charges: disposable, cheap and ultimately, repulsive. (Ever wonder why so few sugar babies end up marrying their sugar daddies? Check the stats, if you can even understand them.) When you start setting your cap at this demographic, this is what awaits you.

So to all those “lovely, intelligent, independent women” who appear to have finally grown up and realized that they’re not quite the catch they imagined they were: you fucked up.  Now you have to deal with the consequences of the choices made back when you were in your late teens and twenties. (And by the way: most of you aren’t lovely, intelligent and independent: you’re slovenly, overweight, dull and horribly dependent on, well, just about everybody from your parents to HR departments to government.)

The biggest mistake you Millennial Grrrls ever made? Believing the feminist bullshit that your mothers’ generation foisted on you as gospel. Guess what?  You can’t have it all.  Never could, and nor can anyone, ever. Life is a series of compromises; and you lot compromised your morals, your youth, your self-respect and your womanhood, all in pursuit of the unattainable.

I’d say I’m sorry for your plight; but considering the misery that the so-called third-generation feminism has inflicted and continues to inflict on both men and women in today’s wretched society, I can’t sympathize with you in the slightest. There’s a term in the patriarchy which describes your situation perfectly:  tough shit.

Good luck, grrrls.

And welcome to the Thunder Dome.

Teacup, Storm In (#1,768)

On Britishland TV (ITV?) last week there was a kerfuffle because one of the morning show presenters made a stupid observation about the little denim dress that the weather girl (their term, not mine) was wearing on the show — something about her needing to be careful wearing that dress in the rain (because, as any fule kno, denim can shrink when wet).

Needless to say, a veritable shitstorm ensued because sexism, male chauvinism / piggishness etc. etc. ad nauseam. I leave it to others to decide whether the comment was tasteless — I found it quite funny, myself — but there are a couple of comments to be made about this silliness.

First, as any fule kno (2), such discussions are futile wifout pitchurs. Here’s the  denim dress in question:

Once again, I leave it to others to decide whether that’s appropriate attire for national television (my opinion: not), but whatever, I think we can all agree that the elfin Lucy Verasamy is as cute as a button, and as such she should be used to men commenting about her appearance without getting too bent out of shape about it. (Also, she’s 37 years old[!] which makes me feel about 137.) To be fair, ’twas not she who got all upset — apparently, some viewers got a hair up their collective ass over the comment, showing a distinctly-modern lack of sense of humor when it comes to matters pertaining to the male-female thing. Idiots.

Anyway, the next day young Lucy appeared on the show wearing this outfit:

My first thought was: “Damn, she’s got lovely legs.” My second thought was: “Why is she wearing so demure an outfit? She should have worn an even sexier dress” (in other words, daring the fool to make another stupid comment). That would have been priceless.

I should point out that Miss Verasamy is usually not at all shy about showing off her body:

…especially when on one of her many vacations. Nobody seems to care about any of that, of course, because grrrl power or something. And she’s always at some gala event or other:

    

But woe betide any man who responds positively to her appearance: that, of course, is Beyond The Pale.

I think we all need to grow up. I’m not suggesting that women walk around in that Muslim bullshit — never in a million years — but I’m sorry, ladies: if the goods aren’t to be viewed, don’t put them in the front window; but more especially, don’t be surprised if men respond to the visual because we are men and that’s what we do, despite all efforts of womyns to change many thousands of years of genetically-acquired behavior.

And men: if you’re going to open your big yap, show a little couth — especially if you’re going to be televised to an audience of millions of viewers. (I don’t think Madeley’s comment was out of line — if anything, it was just a gentle tease. But apparently teasing is now rape, or something.)

Mind you: nowadays, just gently complimenting a woman on her appearance (which she probably devoted hours towards) can make you Literally Worse Than Hitler.

Here’s the thing: if I can see that a woman has put a lot of effort into her appearance, I always compliment her. I was taught that this was a gentlemanly thing to do. But hey, I’m just a 1911 man, trying to get by in a 2017 world… no doubt there’s a prison sentence in my future.

Don’t care. I’m not going to stop.