Dear angry white guys

Welcome to the insanity of the early 21st century where the dominant cry foul of everyone they feed on, the poor, the needy, women, gays, addicts, protesters – you name it; old white guys are oppressed by it. Just look at the media, the white house, WordPress everything is now infested with whinny he-bitches complaining that everything they’ve been doing to the rest of us for the last few thousand years they feel we are doing to them! Unfair!

Seriously, these pathetic men who identify as a persecuted white male under siege; actually manifest as internet trolls who worship a disgusting comb-over fraud dictator. These jerks are enraged at all and every minority, they see their opposition as being the seeds of the downfall of the white man, eyeroll. Hard to get your head around this isn’t it?

The very bags of dicks that voted conservative – forever – claiming that the weakest, most under-represented and least remunerated took their great nation. Not the greedy amoral CEO, not the banks who brazenly skimmed off the cream, not the giant corporations who not content with billions they made on home; soil went overseas to places where slavery is still a thing to make trillions. None of these ever paid their dues, they avoided tax, found loopholes, off-shored their banking to the Cayman Islands, made trust funds and raped both the land and workers, but they are the ones white dudes side with…
It’s your own fault; white dudes, so live with it, try our shoes on for size and stop your cry baby whining.

Ok, that might be a bit far especially since these pussies – if I can insult my vagina for a moment – are not at all what they claim to be. Most of them are sad broken failures who live in their mum’s basement – maybe they resent that, but rather than whine to mum – who is their landlord – they get on the internodes to get even with us… Everyone who isn’t old, white, a failure, ineffectual, thinks Hitler was bad but he did have some sound policies, the Bible is literal truth, guns are for freedom – and so on – you know the rest I don’t have to spell it out do I?

It’s pointless taking to these losers because they aren’t interested in discussion, they are about getting even with you – because you are the reason they are the failure they are. You are the reason (Insert nation) is descending into debt, chaos and is being over run with (insert your minority).

It isn’t the rich white guys who have been fucking your nation since it was torn from the hands of it’s natives is it? The Churches who have been taking your money and raping children since – they started. It’s not the corporations who pay no tax for chewing up resources, underpaying employees while overpaying their boards then moving overseas to double their pay is it? No because slavery is what built (insert nation), and it just goes to show that (insert nation) was rich when (insert minority) knew their place and (insert flag) was feared by all underlings.

Back then being a white guy was pretty sweet right? Not now, not with all these women wanting pay, contraception and a say! Sluts! It’s getting so that the undocumented immigrant that does your shitty job for 3/4 the pay want the benefits of this great nation they toil for!

This is where these bozos have their heads, everything is your fault, the fault of liberals, gays, women, blacks, browns, yellows – whatever colour is their particular focus, queer rights everything Fox tells them to think, they buy.

Otherwise they’d have to face the fact that they never amounted to much, don’t count, are irrelevant and outdated. It stings to feel hard done by and they don’t like it, even though compared to everyone else they’ve had a good run for most of their lives.

So the next time one of these redundant dudes darkens your personal space don’t worry, inside they are hostile because you piss them off, they wanted the life in the 1950’s movie they saw once and believed it was real. The life where you shut your mouth, cooked, fucked them and were bombed out on Prozac to cope with. The time when ethnic people lived under bomb runs or in cross hairs, when you could call someone a spic and back slap your buddy as you laughed at them. A time when there was a footpath for you and one for dark people.

Good times.

Unfortunately delusions of grandeur fall apart, eventually 3rd world countries get sick of being plundered and the corporations who milked your and my nations for decades, well they don’t care they are all billionaires now, suck it.

Never mind, get yourself an eagle avatar, a military one – a flag? And go harass a woman, or a minority or a white guy who dares have and actual conscience, lucky for us there are more of those than you. How brave, how manly, how Christian – how ‘Murika!

Did this make your blood boil? Unfair! Are you going to hit the keys like a bitch now? Never mind mum’s making your favourite tonight, afterwards you can watch a war movie, read a few Trump Tweets and plan a foolproof way of getting back at SJW’s! Which is almost as good as the hard-on of xmas past right?


Sorry I wasn’t listening I was staring at your tits…

Racy title huh? I made it myself out of coat-hangers and RU486 – too much? Right, over to the point then. I’m a Aussie and sometimes we wonder if you people out there is the ocean that surrounds us are getting it, or if you’re laughing to be polite. At the risk of infuriating the downtrodden male audience – is it a female thing? Am I triggering you without noticing, by throwing around phrases that – only work if – bewbz?

Let me explain properly, for many years now I’ve written blogs that are somewhat challenging, not the sort of thing that is mild or fit topics for light chit chat. I did my short phase of journal blogs, pics of plants and animals, but I got bored. So I started on opinion and the kind of thing that might make for interesting reading – the odd bit of science too, seeing as that’s the thing that I find most exciting these days.

The problem is that mostly I find people miss the entire gist of what I am saying, or at least the major thrust (boom-tish). They seem to pick out a phrase or two to emphasise a pet butt hurt of theirs, is that what blogging is now? It seems to me that what you post these days is kind of like dropping a baited hook in the sea and – I don’t know if the point is to catch a tasty passer by so you two can have a nice meal together; or to attract white pointers (sorry was that racist?).

I find sometimes too, that commenting on someone’s work is like that – they ignore what you say and take the opportunity to have a nice vent or rant on about whatever it is that’s making them pissy today.

So if you are a chick then you’ll have seen this thing before when you’re chatting to a dude and he is really distracted by your sweater stuffers – to the point where it’s like having a conversation with a script designed to generate your Ideal porn star name.

“So I choose a Cooper S because it’s like a go-cart – yanno – they feel like you can corner faster than a Carrera 2…” Girl at cocktail party.

“Uh… yeah I agree – totally” Guy with open mouth.

“So then I stabbed your gran in the eye with a fox.” Girl testing hypothesis.

“Uh… yeah I agree – totally” Guy with open mouth confirming her suspicion.

All attention is good attention though right? No, not really, it makes you wonder if you should bother, blogging, at least about anything that matters – or going to parties – even supposedly high brow ones.

Anyway, what do you think Ladies and Gents?

Please enjoy this video which will, illustrate the point to most and be a red flag to others. I found the song on Spotify and last night a friend of mine asked me if I’d ever seen the vid – to which I say no – laugh? Yes, I did, and cried at the same time, most of you do that too sometimes right?


There is a duplicity to being female that never really gets spoken about seriously. On the one hand we are supposed to be the paragons of virtue, while men are allowed to wolf whistle, are seen to be most masculine when talking about tits and are literally expected to want to fuck anyone female if they really are a man – women aren’t. If a woman is at all sexually active it better be with her partner and discrete otherwise you are a whore, a hoe, ho or a T.h.o.t. these days.

I was a whore, for many years and it puzzles me still that the thing they want and what we want are roughly the same but vastly less admirable culturally. Sure there is a certain liberty afforded to women, no one is stopping you from wearing revealing clothing, from going out right now and finding someone to fuck but be prepared to be branded for it. Though now you won’t be put in the middle of the village in stocks after your hair is shorn and you are branded, you will be in name. If you want – and do something about it – well then you are not much better than I was, a paid service, cheap, nasty and deserved of scorn.

No, really.

Men don’t have slutty clothes, men don’t even have slutty shoes, and skirts – well they belong to bitches – is there a male for bitch? No, there isn’t. If a man fucks two women in a night he is a star, a hero, a stud – the women he fucks are sluts and any woman who has sex with more than one man ever is questionably a slut anyway. Make sense to you? It should that’s how it is, how it has been and will be, just ask anyone.

Leviticus X-XXXL – see proof!

If you dress modestly, don’t go out much, wear little make up and say no – some would say you are a ‘nice girl’ but mostly there is something wrong with you, you’re probably a lesbian or worse frigid. If you dress like everyone else, go out, conform – and it is now something of a conformity – you’re a slut, look at the rampant rise in sex crime, the abuse of the pretty girl in film and culture, its in all of our faces but still, it’s our fault for – well uh – growing a vagina – dirty bitch.

I used to think I was vile when I was a whore, now I’m basically celibate that that’s just as bad. You go out with some friends, a guy buys you a drink and you don’t allow him to take you home, well your a bitch, something is wrong with you, damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Immortal not Immoral

So here is a heavy blog now, about Artificial intelligence and why I think we should strive for it’s development.

I’m in my fifth year of science at university now, physics is my thing, so I am not going to pretend I am an expert in AI, I understand the principals, I have a good idea of the maths involved and a general appreciation of the programming tricks required and yes they are tricks at the moment because if you are paranoid about artificial intelligence talking over a stealth bomber and nuking some city – relax it’s a long way off.

Which isn’t to say that it’s in the same class as a warp drive, we are a lot closer to AI than faster than light travel. The mechanics of making a machine that is capable of reason isn’t the point or my speciality as I said so let’s leave that alone.

Why I believe that we should strive for artificial intelligence is that humanity is on a short cut to annihilation, and always has been in my humble opinion. The nature of biological evolution lead us here to this point where we think we are the bees knees, the pinnacle of life, we think it and our god tells us we are. Greed and selfism is at the core of homo-sapiens, if not life itself, legend has it that children are born innocent and over time corrupt, but that’s not right, they are born with need and that need becomes – if it isn’t already there – all consuming.

The vast bulk of the human species believes that it is semi – if not utterly divine as well as apart and above nature so we think nothing of trashing each other and worse still our world.

Certainly my views might stem from formative abuse and later being an escort but just look at the world, in most of it women and children are not much better off than cattle, men – also but by degrees often are in a better – even though slight – position.

Why would an AI behave the same way? Ad nauseam in Sci-Fi self aware machines instantly desire the destruction of humans, from the moment they are activated, why is that? It’s simply not logical and AI at its core is logic. The logic of Skynet – well it isn’t – why would it destroy those who made it? The answer seems to be that the moment it is put online it becomes self aware and any being that is self aware seeks to destroy its maker – wtf? It is idiot logic, paranoid and hostile.

If a machine is made that thinks for itself, has the ability to either repair or remake itself then mortality isn’t a concern to it, so why would it seek dominance or worse still to become master? Because as a human the writer of Sci-fi would do that, because culturally we have been raised to see a superior as a threat and that we are natural enemies.

If I could transfer my mind to a machine the first and only thing I would do is to use my gifts to learn more, as an immortal being that would be both tantalising and fulfilling, as much as the far right annoy me if I had the choice to destroy them or leave this would I’d be out of here in an instant.

I personally think that the only way for our species to survive now is by leaving our bodies behind, this world that god apparently told us to use is used up and he’s MIA, his followers and people who worship money don’t listen to science as year after year warnings and advice go unheeded. To these people who’s answer is always god or profit have painted us into a corner, a fatal one, now no one has what it takes to fix the issue, our species prefers to squabble over definitions of what is real or not rather than what needs to be done.

You look around and nationalism is seen as a virtue, there is a cultish worship of war, a romanticism of soldiering as is murder done in uniform is somehow a wonderful thing instead. Those who are not equal are somehow fascists for demanding equality – feminazi? Wtf? It is a rightful thing to evict economic refugees without their children, if you sent someone in an overcoat whit the words “I really don’t care, do u” on it. Heroes, those are in movies right, you know, the places where virtuous humans wear Lycra?


Nostalgia for bloggers, annoyance at WordPress networkers

One of the downsides of trashing your blogs and starting again is that you lose your audience, those wonderful and rare people who actually do read, and do like your stuff. So why do it? I think everyone finds that when they begin blogging they are one thing, then later another, things change and so should we.

I have been toying with the idea of doing a series called – pardon my wank – “renaissance” where I go back over my past and re-visit some of the things I’ve written, but more done in my younger years. I turned 28 yesterday and every birthday I feel nostalgic. Significantly, I’ve been self orphaned now for marginally under half my life, in a few months the anniversary of that terrible night will come, and go, and what was my happy youth ended.

I’ll save that for a bleaker post then.

While I was thinking about this post I was trying to find a copy of my first blog, I remember what it was, I remember even the title, which as most are was from a song – “This modern Love” by Bloc Party – the best band ever. The blog was about driving to see the flat I was going to by as an escape from my boyfriend and the house we bought for each other. I left him not for my sake but for his, not that he ever believed that but it’s true, I was the problem and I was making him miserable, but don’t worry he paid me back with interest over the next three years.

This modern love – so it was about…

I remember the day, it was, autumn, the prettiest season in Melbourne but not the warmest. For the first time in almost a year I felt positive, like I was doing the right thing and that everything would be ok. I loved that place, very old, it smelt of wood and grandeur and it was grand, ostentatious even, it was a time when I actually made peace with my life as an escort – finally.

So I went looking for this and came up blank, the blog is lost now, sadly, but I did find more blogs from my time at – now defunct. Interestingly the hippy wanker who ran the place has now used the domain for a site which recommends gambling sites, I never liked him, and I was right about him all along. I’m good at that, reading people, just ask me.

Some of my posts back then really sucked, badly written, overly sexualised, nasty – just like me! Or the person I was then, I seem to have changed since then – almost anything sleazy bores me stupid now. I fought a lot too, with other bloggers, I thought I could change the world and people’s narrow mindedness, yes I was that naive, don’t worry though I’m over that, do what you want but don’t expect me to cheer, I don’t do paid gigs anymore.

I think it took me maybe three years until I was any good at writing – or it seems to me that anything bearable turns up around 2014 when I developed a sense of humour again, but then I lost my shit that year and Its not until about late 2016 that I found my feet again, humble aren’t I?

Unfortunately now blogging isn’t trendy and those who can write or are entertaining are off doing something useful or I lost their links by burning what – 5 blogs now? I miss them, now anyone who likes my stuff seems to be a networker or someone selling social media bullshit.

Still, I do this more for me, but I do miss the buzz of a community. WordPress is a little like being stuck at a seminar about how to maximise your Linkedin contacts – whatever. Thanks but I’m not into cults, I’ll just drink the free champaign and look at the art.

The song reminds me of us, my ex and I and when it was beautiful not two bits of metal grinding on each other. Almost all the lyrics speak to me about how awesome and close we where and how quickly it went pear shaped. Have a listen, it’s a very beautiful song, you know when you find a song and you think – this is me – and the bit where it goes “I’ll pay for you…”  it still makes me cry.

13 reasons why not

I’ve never understood suicide, to me it’s something akin to the whole hero thing, a self congratulatory bravery that I never agreed with, to me it’s not a weakness more a waste. I’ve witnessed harsher lives than mine, harder, more difficult but still I don’t see killing yourself as a release, to me it’s more of the same punishment. Life is a rare thing, a dangerous thing that mild people think deserves to be controlled – I think that diminishes the power of life. Struggle is rewarded, sometimes, capitulation isn’t ever, the meek never inherit anything but more abuse.

Life is as cruel as is rewarding, it gives with one hand and takes with the other, the idea that you could find even a parity there bemused me – let alone a point in ones’ life that security might be your reward for suffering? Why?

Maybe this is why I don’t ‘get’ religion, this idea that you are in some way deserving of a reward, that at a point you are able to stop struggling and float the rest of the way down life’s river safe at last from rapids and rocks. Is it that I experienced unusual stretches of treachery that it warped my sense of reality?

I think it’s the reverse, I get the impression most people expect an easy life, they feel hard done by, put on by adversity and hard work, they resent that and either escape life or pad themselves from it. Alcohol, drugs, religion, games, television – all of those are designed to pad you from the reality of being alive. Life is not ‘made’ nor is it predestined, it’s not some series of paths that have a reward for merely choosing the right direction. It’s hard, it’s often brutally harsh rather than mostly harmless, it’s not something that can be charmed with talisman or whispering an incantation. You have to live life, be brave, take some punches, humiliations, cruelties even with the caresses and rewards.

This is partly why I also disagree with this liberal push to make the world safe from anything mean, it never will be, and to raise people to think it is possible horrifies me, it’s just going to pave the way for disaster and a rude awakening.

A friend of mine recommended the series that this blog is named after, and I just flatly refused, the only reason to kill yourself is if you are tired of life, in which case you should have tried everything, all the risky things as well. For a child to kill themselves, well if you’ve been tortured sure, I can understand that, though having survived my teens, I can tell you it’s worth sticking it out, life can get better but only if you yourself take the rights of your life. I’m not going to guarantee that of course. 13 reasons? No, there aren’t sorry there just aren’t.

Maybe its rough, harsh and realistic, maybe the show is as blunt as it should be, that life isn’t a all tiaras and ponies but I really think this kind of thing is fuel for people who love drama and depression. It’s a t-shirt, a poster.

One of the street walkers I used to work with once gave me a wonderful, and truthful bit of advice, the trick to taking a beating is that you’ve got to accept that the punch will hurt, to imagine that you are in a movie and that it won’t will hurt will make worse, suck it up and it’s easier to recover. The cruel often hate the weak and will hurt you more than they would have if you take it. No, it’s not right, it’s not even fair or decent but its life, there is good but there is also bad.

Apparently this song is about a girl being corrupted… corruption, strange word for indulged.

Dear Tinker Bell, Lots of Luck in the Future – Peter

I’m almost 28 years old and I’ve never had a career, although I made a lot of money ‘on my back’ my only other job ever was a several months as a receptionist in a factory. This and many other things make me a little unusual for most 28 year olds who aren’t the sort that live in WoW or Second Life AKA in their mums basement.

So it was with deep weirdness that I left my first university placement, a few weeks at a research facility here in freezing Melbourne. It felt slightly cold, offensive even to hand in my pass key, putting the last signature – the end of tenure on my contract and walking out of the building. With my bag of things I finally got a glimpse of what it’s like to be fired. It’s nasty.

Incomprehensible to me, I actually cried on the way to the car, not a huge sook but yeah – I cried. when I think of the things that have been said and done to me… I sucked those up (cough) like a trooper and – this? Seriously?

It’s just – this was real, I left school at the end of year ten to – well suck a lot of dick to get where I am, and getting back on track took my life over – time wise. I’m about to be twice that girl’s age and had things been different, today might have been one of those ‘thank Darwin I don’t have to go to work’ days. Instead its – It’s a lot like being dumped by mister – almost right. You can argue, hang around but eventually – you have to move out.

Full disclosure it wasn’t that scienceful a job, all I was doing was collating, sorting and filtering data but it did require an unusually serious amount of maths knowledge to do. It actually felt like I had gotten somewhere in my life though. Somewhere real, actual, and a bunch of words usually found in aspirational memes. It is also a yearly thing for my department, a student will be there after me, next year, walking to the car park with her, or his things in a bag feeling this.

I’m sure when I turned up most of the people I worked with thought – you are kidding me. That’s what my class mates and lecturers and most people I meet who I say – I study science think. They will believe veterinary science or nursing but physics? Hahaha sure. This doesn’t bode well, but my marks, and the reference from my brief employer might help.

There were many moments where I lost focus in the lab for an instant, looked around me and it seemed like Never Never Land. Far from the places I’ve been, almost like I wandered onto a movie set, but not glamorous – to the people there, to me it was better.

I’ve fretted about where I’d end up but I’ve been in the gutter, hopefully I’ll end in the stars, or at least sorting the data collected from them.

What a weird life I’ve had…