I Still Cringe When I Hear an Anglobitch Near


Someday soon, true cultural diversity will be destroyed by Anglo-American, feminist cultural imperialism

There’s nothing more rattling to expat nerves than hearing a loud, entitled Anglobitch nearby. For an instant, it’s as if everything I ran away from has somehow followed me, and found me on my island paradise. A flood of memories of half a lifetime of putting up with this abomination of humanity briefly surges through my memory before she is whisked off in whatever land barge she happens to be riding in.

In that voice I hear entitlement, vacuousness, and arrogance all in one. There’s also the faint echo of sexual imperialism in that voice, for she is the self-anointed queen and Anglo men just exist to power her lifestyle of exorbitance. We aren’t to be given any of the pussy pie except when we are useful to help her achieve some end, and then only do the legs briefly spread.

Thank God she’s gone.

Thankfully, visits from Anglobitches are rare on this part of the island, but there are times of the year in which there are a worrisome number of them that appear. The Anglobitch, a product of a female worshiping culture stands in stark contrast to the ladies of the Latin culture I’ve adopted as my new home.

They still have a modicum of humanity left in them. And sex flows like water around here, it hasn’t been commidified into an interaction men must sacrifice their lives and fortunes for. The liberation I’ve experienced, as wonderful as it has been, is but an echo of the wonder days when men didn’t put up with shit from entitled bitches.

One can only imagine what things were like in the heyday of traditional Amerindian cultures, such as the Tainos who inhabited this part of the Caribbean and the Aztecs who inhabited nearby Mexico. If anything, English scholar Rookh Kshatriya in his recent article Repression, Freedom and the Mexicatl One World: Aztec Thoughts on the Anglobitch Thesis shows how far the Western man has fallen when one compares and contrasts today’s America with the past glory of masculine cultures.

Aztec culture is gallant, manly and virile, without a trace of feminist misandry or female ‘appeasement’. This ‘masculine’ civilization flourishes because Aztec culture is entirely free of sexual repression. Consequently, women have no intrinsic status in ancient Mexico, beyond their social birth-class. This shows us that feminism does not – indeed, can not – exist in a truly liberated culture. When sex has scarcity value it becomes a sacrament bestowed by women on males, thereby creating a misandrist climate that permits both the rise of feminism and the marginalization of men.

Interestingly, echoes of this sexual paradise for men exist to this day in the Caribbean, but local women are adopting the Western Sickness more and more as tourism increases on the island.


Sex isn’t a “sacrament” bestowed on lucky men by holier than thou women in many world cultures

A Life of Sexual Liberation – For Men This Time

A man can still live a life of sexual satisfaction – legally – in many parts of the world. Once a man has experienced this type of sexual liberation, a figurative butterfly’s wings have been touched and he will never be able to see a sexually repressed homeland the same way again. Oliver Wendell Holmes put it best:

A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.

In any case, Gary Jennings’ Aztec, which Kshatriya wrote the linked article about touches on what my life has been like since leaving the dry, dusty snatch of America behind.

Wherever Mixtli travels, fresh young women are available for his sexual entertainment. Every inn on the road has an adjoining whore-house, just as it has beds, drinks and breakfast. A lissom whore is always available, served up like a glass of wine or a hearty meal, an uncomplaining body for men to enjoy. Sickly Anglo repression is utterly absent from the Aztec world – and with it, misandrist feminism of the odious Anglo variety.

Indeed, the sexual bounty I’ve enjoyed since beginning my travels into Latin America – sexual conquests I get for free by the way – makes dealing with or even hearing a cackling Anglobitch an experience that makes me shudder. As an attractive man who is fluent in Spanish, with light hair and blue eyes, I can’t walk outside without being approached by quality women. This is an experience I never had in Anglo America, where I was totally ignored by women and had to compete viciously with other men for attention.

I had some measure of success living this way, if you can call that living, before deciding life was too short to be treated like that by Anglobitches.

On a recent flight over the Christmas holiday, I met a Mexican girl who was 7 months away from becoming a doctor. She was VERY into me, and even slept in my arms on our flight. I got her number but I already have such a thick black book I may never get around to meeting up with her. That simple human interchange is something I thirsted for, for decades back home.

I know the Anglobitch doesn’t like runaway slaves from the plantation. And sooner or later, she’ll have her way and infect this culture I love with her insanity and imperialism. I may not be able to change the future, but I can enjoy what’s available in a culturally diverse world before the coming New World Order monoculture destroys the islands of humanity that are left and turns everyone into consummate consumers.

There’s a troubling question that results from this experience and a glance at history. How in the hell did such a normal, natural part of life like sex become such a sacrament – a “blessing” bestowed on men by women in the minds of millions?

It’s a bizarre situation, really. Sex is everywhere in Anglo culture – on TV, in magazines, online, in the news, on the magazine stand, the topic of discussion and gossip – but Beta males can’t have any of it. Fuck that shit. I’m getting my share while the getting is good.

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One comment

  • Once you go MGTOW you can never go back. A blessing and a curse all in one package. BTW, my new passport arrived in the mail today. I look forward to flying solo, for I have no, “Fear of Flying”. I don’t speak Spanish but am fluent in the universal language of Benjamin Franklin on green paper. Cheers.


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