Hi. This is a blog where I express all the thoughts I wouldn't say to people I know personally. I would, after all, like to maintain my job and the (perhaps mendacious) respect of my friends and family.
I'm keeping a dream journal, and as it turns out, I'm even stranger than I thought! Actually, it's not that I'm strange- most people are just cardboard cut-outs of someone else.
At the moment, I don't feel up to sharing my dreams- but I will eventually. What I'd like to write about today is what they mean. Does anyone else here hate the very sight of beautiful women? I could be wrong, but damn, what thoughtless, heartless, painted monkeys. I'm sure there are some exceptions (actually I'm not; I only said that to appear reasonable), but for the most part, I am subconsciously repelled by anything that derives its sense of self worth from its appearance. I'll tell you one thing you'll never see: a B.W. reading a book, or attempting to enrich herself in any way, shape, or form not conducive to ensnaring men. If you have seen one reading a book, chances are she's only doing it because she "likes" a guy interested in literature. If not, then check the cover to see if it isn't the latest steaming pile of shit, like "Chicken Shit for the Soul," or "Eat, Pray, Shit." If neither of these are the case, then she's probably posing for a photo, a sly smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, eyes sparkling from behind non-corrective lenses, reclining on expensive furniture.
I hate men, too. And mosquitoes. But not as much as a beautiful woman. Hearts of stone, brains of wood; the only soft thing about them is their skin- especially when they have implants.
At the moment, I don't feel up to sharing my dreams- but I will eventually. What I'd like to write about today is what they mean. Does anyone else here hate the very sight of beautiful women? I could be wrong, but damn, what thoughtless, heartless, painted monkeys. I'm sure there are some exceptions (actually I'm not; I only said that to appear reasonable), but for the most part, I am subconsciously repelled by anything that derives its sense of self worth from its appearance. I'll tell you one thing you'll never see: a B.W. reading a book, or attempting to enrich herself in any way, shape, or form not conducive to ensnaring men. If you have seen one reading a book, chances are she's only doing it because she "likes" a guy interested in literature. If not, then check the cover to see if it isn't the latest steaming pile of shit, like "Chicken Shit for the Soul," or "Eat, Pray, Shit." If neither of these are the case, then she's probably posing for a photo, a sly smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, eyes sparkling from behind non-corrective lenses, reclining on expensive furniture.
I hate men, too. And mosquitoes. But not as much as a beautiful woman. Hearts of stone, brains of wood; the only soft thing about them is their skin- especially when they have implants.
I really do wish I didn't feel this way. However, after everything I've seen and experienced, I know I'm right, with few (if any) exceptions to the contrary.
The relationship between a women's beauty and intellect appears to be inversely proportional. Such is life.
Finally: I'd like to invite any and all comments. Disagree with me? I respect that. Want to call me names and say mean things to me? That's fine, I suppose. Know of an exception to the inverse proportion? I probably won't believe you, but I encourage you to post any way.
Thanks for reading!
Update 8/27/2013:
It has come to my attention that even average looking women, and yes, even the uglies, can be just as insipid as any looker out there. However, out of shame at having lost the great genetic lottery, they're less likely to be as obnoxious as a looker.
Update 8/27/2013:
It has come to my attention that even average looking women, and yes, even the uglies, can be just as insipid as any looker out there. However, out of shame at having lost the great genetic lottery, they're less likely to be as obnoxious as a looker.
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