Category Archives: Stories from the Road

Stories from the Road: “Strange” Can Be Intoxicating


A man never forgets the rare woman who treats him like a man

I had an awesome, memorable experience yesterday, and had to share it with my brothers to illustrate how relations between men and women and sexuality should be. If anything, an experience like the one I just had makes me realize all my instincts were right when those echoes in my mind collectively told me I was being shit on by women in Anglo America.

Suffice it to say, I have a semi-regular chick. Well, as regular as I’ll ever let a chick be in my life after half a lifetime of abuse by them. I’m never going to be 100% loyal to a woman again as long as I feel like I’m ultimately nothing but a utility in their lives, a utility that can be disposed of at any time. I’m supposed to invest all of myself and my money into a woman who is certain to leave me if I ever stop providing “benefit” to her as illustrated by Briffault’s Law? Nah.

In any case, I was out doing some business yesterday. I stopped to have some beers at a hole in the wall bar that was playing Bachata music. After a couple of tall, cold Presidentes I noticed a morena (dark skinned chick) with a sexy mane of black hair, an incredible ass, and a friendly disposition making flirty eyes at me. It’s always nice when a woman has an inviting posture, especially when a man hails from the land of mean-faced, clipped hair, oversize retro glasses girls. So, I motioned for her to come over and join me at the bar. Long story short, we soon ended up at her place.

As we made our way into her apartment, making out along the way, we stripped each other’s clothes off one another and made our way to her shower. I kissed her neck, then she kissed mine. Seeing her taut, dark sinned body from behind in the rays of sunlight filtering through her window, the magnificence of her athletic behind glistening in the water, something primitive and wonderful began awakening inside me. I began to feel like a wild animal as there’s nothing quite as intoxicating to a straight man as a sexual conquest with a hot chick he’s never got to experience before. I could tell she was getting into it to, whispering nasty things in my ear in Spanish as we petted each other in the shower.

All of the sudden she bent over and took me into her mouth. I stood there in the shower, nearly paralyzed by how good she was. The passion with which she massaged me with her mouth was incredible. I don’t often offer the compliment “a mouth like cocaine” to chicks, but this chica definitely had a mouth like cocaine. I knew right then and there this was an encounter for the ages. One I would remember for years or decades to come.

Incidentally, all by best encounters have been with black, Latina or Asian women. (The chica in this story was both black and Latina.) Anglo chicks just seem frigid and distant by comparison, as if they’re already fast-forwarding to the “payoff” from doing this sexual favor for you. At least, that’s my impression most of the time I’m with one. Ethnic women seem to be “in the moment” when I’m with them. I’ve discussed before how the $40 (LEGAL) pay for play girl in Mexico made me feel better than most of the American women I’ve had relationshits with simply because she treated me like a man and didn’t act like sex was dirty. (It isn’t!)

Getting back to the story, we then proceeded to the bed, where she continued her mouth hugs for a few minutes. The wildness and craziness of the whole experience – here I was in bed with a chick I had just met an hour ago – giving me a euphoric high.

Then, she climbed up on top, and proceeded to ride like a cowgirl. There’s something amazing and rare about really good sex. Many of you may know what I’m talking about. Being with a woman who knows what she’s doing, who likes men, and who likes sex is akin to a religious experience. An experience like this makes a man realize all the bad women and bad sex he’s had in his life. Especially if he’s had 150+ women as Yours Truly. There’s a deep well of experience to draw on for comparing and contrasting.

We both got wilder and wilder with the thrusting becoming more intense. We changed positions. Then changed positions again. I remember being on top and looking to the side to see her leg stretched straight out, and up into the air pointed skyward with her toes stretched out, thinking this is living. This is what it’s all about. The human experience doesn’t get much better than this.

This is the life. Why does the matrix try to take experience like this away from men and women offering sorry substitutes – proxies – for this ancient, primal experience? How evil the matrix is for doing that.

It wasn’t long after that, a good 15 minutes or so that I just couldn’t take it anymore and exploded. She wanted to keep going, and so did I, but the high I got from being with a strange woman who acted like she wanted me from start to finish was just too much. Not to worry, I have her number so we can go for a longer session next time.

As I age, I find myself less enamored of women. My ability to be seduced by them waning because I know what The Predatory Female really is inside, behind the curtain of all that well-practiced sophistry. That said, an experience like this can make a man feel like a teenager again. Like life is worth living. That all women aren’t that bad. (As delusional as that thought might be – it was nice to have it in passing!)

As I’ve said before, easy women like the one highlighted in this story have their place in a functioning society. Every woman making themselves as inaccessible as Everest (as has happened in America) really makes for a miserable society.

I got all that from a dose of some “strange” as some men call it. This lay has been on my mind ever since, and I’m sure even in the future I’ll recall this day fondly. It’s amazing how a little female attention with a woman who makes a guy feel like a man rather than an employee or slave can change a man’s disposition and outlook on life, if only temporarily. It’s just unreal to me sex has social stigma and shame attached to it  in Anglo America. I’ll be happy because of this roll in the hay for days, if not weeks or years. Why aren’t I allowed this kind of happiness back home?

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Stories from the Road: Best Indian Food on the Highway


Indian dishes that rival gourmet restaurants can be found at a humble truck stop in rural Nebraska

The last thing a man expects to find when in the middle of BFE Nebraska is some of the best Indian food in the nation. But that’s just what a man will be treated to if he makes a stop in tiny Overton, NE. The Indian food I’ve had in New York was not as good as the dishes at this humble abode in the middle of America, scoffingly referred to as “flyover country” in certain circles. (Proving the ignorance of our self-appointed social betters.)

In fact, when I ran teams earlier this year, each time we traveled I-80 coast to coast this place became a “must stop” along the way.

It seems an Indian family bought out a mom and pop truck stop and decided to start serving traditional Indian dishes in the restaurant. They have not cut any corners. While the food is a bit pricey, the quality is unmatched. From the lamb kourma to the saag paneer to the garlic naan to the basmati rice, the food at this humble truck stop would rival, if not surpass what you can find in the big city. Those menu items are just my personal preferences. Other tasty options are there.

Truly, Jay Brothers Truck Stop on Exit 248 is one of those “diamonds in the rough” we truck drivers discuss. It doesn’t look like much on the outside. And it’s seen better days on the inside. But here’s the way I look at things: There’s a lot of richness in the poor house and a lot of poverty in the rich house. I’d rather be amongst real people rather than poseurs and social climbing jackasses. Typical Americans look for the fancy, material things in life (many wouldn’t be caught dead here) but I’ve learned to start looking for humanity and people. It’s very rewarding.

It’s experiences like these that make me glad I bailed on the failing news media when I did, and decided to drive a truck when I need money. (While living abroad as an expat the rest of the time.) There is so much to know about this country, and so much to know about the world beyond the myopia most people spend their entire lives in. A myopia that is at least, in part, foisted upon them by a media that only knows how to create fear and division and push conspicuous consumption as the be all, end all of human existence.

As for me, finding oases of real people and real food made by real hands and having random, once in a lifetime experiences in new places and with new people will never be matched by anything I could own. What’s more, I enjoy interacting and supporting small business owners rather than faceless, nameless, exploitative GloboWorldCorp and its subsidiaries.

A gentlemanly Indian grandfather usually brings my order out when I stop here. Just seeing the humble man at work and watching him waiting to see if I like his cooking is an experience the chain truck stops can’t match. I like people, not things. Why is this so hard for Anglo culture to understand?

This is why I roam. This is why I’m a minimalist. This is why I cannot bear the human farm corporate America herds all the sheeple into. I’d never have had this simple pleasure among a constellation of other simple pleasures like this if I had stayed on the plantation waiting for the “someday” of retirement that never comes. (And by then I’d be too old and worn out to enjoy it, anyway.)

Life is better out here as a free man. Let me tell you.

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Dad of the Week: Scenes of Degeneracy from a Dystopian Society


Women have no shame as they rip kids out of the arms of dad, hop on the carousel and try to make them into responsibility of Dad of the Week

So, I’m making my travels across the nation as I Roll On Eighteen Wheeler (like the song) when I happen upon a small town in the Deep South. My route takes me down a US Highway off the beaten path, so I jump at the opportunity to stop at a grocery store and pick up some supplies. Eating out is not only a huge waste of money, but the food at America’s chain restaurants is quite simply over-processed, over-seasoned, overpriced ersatz crap. For the most part.

In any case, I hop out of the truck and naturally pay attention to what’s going on, as social observing is part and parcel of what I do here as a service for men.

Here’s something interesting, and quite frankly, sad that I saw. I walked into a store to see a 19 or 20 year old white girl with a blonde son ordering some food from the deli. Except, she wasn’t holding the kid, who was less than a year old. Her black boyfriend was holding the kid, and obviously expected by her to take care of the little tyke. Leaving race aside, I was quite frankly shocked that this good looking young guy let himself be taken advantage of like this by a thin but average-looking girl, becoming the Beta Bucks guy (while she no doubt double dips from both his bank account and biological dad’s child support slavery/forced wealth transfers…he was paying for dinner, after all.) He had a disturbed look on his face.

What was sad about it to me was the fact she obviously ditched dad after she popped out her annuity, hopped back on the cock carousel quicker than a bolt of lightning, and faces no shame or repercussions for doing so. Feminists can spare me the cliche that it was somehow dad’s fault. This almost never turns out to be the case.

This scene repeats itself again and again across America. Women, of all races, disposing of men after the mating act and enslavement process is completed. I couldn’t help but think what blinders, and suicidal ones at that, Anglo culture has towards women who do this day in and day out with impunity. Any criticism of them is forbidden. Any mercy towards biological dad is shamed and mocked. Every incident is met with a “YouGoGrrl” and “Men are scum” response from a thoroughly misandrist culture.

Obviously, I don’t see this relationship working out. The guy deserves better than this chick (the look on his face told me he realizes that) and she needs to stop shopping her kid around to different men while biological dad foots the bill. What’s even more screwed up about this scene is that is has become the norm, rather than an oddity in today’s dystopian America.

I even had a white chick try to do the very same thing to me a couple of years ago. They are truly predatory in their behavior. She tried her best to get me to knock her up, and even lied about being pregnant just before I skipped the country to try and lock me into the relationship. But I knew all along the truth of the matter: she didn’t want to work, and was looking to cash in on me before wiping her ass on me at child support court.

And yet, all we hear in the media is how downtrodden women are and how evil men are. But, the evil I see today isn’t coming from men. It’s coming from wanton female sluttery and women who have no shame fucking up their kids’ psyche with Dad of the Week rather than biological dad. How in the hell does a justice system let this go on?

This is what’s out there, men. Older guys, who have been around the block a few times and those who are quick on the uptake already know it. Better make sure your younger friends know it, too, before they get chains wrapped around their ankle by the pussy-worshiping United States of Vagina and its blue thugs that comprise Police State USA and the Child Support Slavery Court.

In saner times, girls like this would have had their asses kicked by their fathers. But we aren’t living in sane times. Dad is too busy trying to survive being submerged under murky financial waters, trying not to drown so he can send mom a check every month.

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Stories from the Road: The $40 Pay for Play Girl Treated Me Better Than American Women I’ve Had Relationships With


The Zona de Tolerancia in Reynosa, Tamaulipas. It costs roughly $2 to enter the compound. Part of the strip club Lipstick is visible on the left

It’s no secret American women treat men like garbage. I’ve had a few pretty good American girlfriends here and there, but by and large I knew I was nothing more than a disposable utility or a passing infatuation with almost all of them. I knew any LTRs would risk my finances, freedom, and sanity.

As a social observer who watches single mommery become the norm on social media and in cities nationwide (i.e. once the sperm is extracted from the father and he’s disposed of and cast into state slavery, mom hops back on the cock carousel) I know my experience with predatory females is far from unusual. American women use men financially, then kick them to the curb.

Putting that background aside, about how frankly, shitty American woman are, prancing around as if they’re god almighty, any sex appeal they might have had concealed under layers of blubber, hair dye, and bitchiness, let’s move to a recent experience I had at one of the Zonas de Tolerancia in Mexico. These are areas of legal prostitution in many Mexican cities, representing the polar opposite of the shame sex creates in Anglo America.

I found myself on the Mexico border recently, with a trailer dropoff at a border town. Of course, crossing over for some tacos (in more ways than one) naturally was on my mind. So, I rent a car, drive to the Puente Internacional (International Bridge) and walk across. One of the nice things about crossing into Mexico is there’s no police state badgering a man when crossing Mexican customs. Sure, they’re there, but 9 times out of 10 a man just walks on through with narry a question about his activities. Someone with a libertarian bent, like me, loves that experience.

I walk out of customs, wave for a taxi, and negotiate a price of $20 for the cabby to take me to the Zona, drive me by the rooms where scantily clad girls stand outside, let me pick out one, and wait on me while I bang her. (Sometimes I get the taxi drivers to drop me off, but I decided just to do a hit and run this particular day.) As we pull out, I move to put on my seatbelt and the driver asks me what I’m doing. Suddenly, it occurs to me I don’t have to put on a seatbelt here. “Fuck it. I’ll leave it off,” I think.

We arrive, I pay the $2 to the police to enter the compound. (Yes, you pay police to enter a zone replete with brothels, strip clubs, dive bars, and freelance whores. Pay for play, is of course, illegal in the Land of Prohibitions, America.) We drive around the entire compound. It’s about 7 p.m. so even though it’s Friday night there are only a handful of putas on duty. In our first circle, none of them really caught my eye.

Thinking I’m another weak American, the taxi driver starts instructing me on what to do, in Spanish. “Stop and get a beer.” Of course, he invites himself to a beer with me. I flat out tell him no. Not because I don’t want to buy him a beer, I know he’s just testing to see if he can push me around. So, I tell him to drive around the compound again, and suddenly, a flaquita morena catches my eye. (She was a thin, tan skinned girl.) She had beautiful, flowing black hair, a very nice body with perky tits, and was wearing a revealing but classy black dress. She stood out over the other girls. Indeed, a man can truly find some diamonds in the rough in the zonas once in a while.

We negotiate a price, she asks for $40 for complete service. We go in her room, she closes the door, and we start talking. After bullshitting for a few minutes, I find out she’s 21 and lives nearby. She gives me the look that she’s ready, so I take off my clothes and she takes off hers. The light bulb in her room was out, but since it was daytime there were still some rays of light peeking into the room. Once my eyes adjusted I gazed upon a chick that looked stunning naked. Especially compared to the fatties I see in my trips around America, and what they must look like with their clothes off.

She had it all. Perky tits. Tan and supple nipples. Nice legs. Nice hips. Nice, taut little behind. After drinking that scene in, we proceed do the deed. She didn’t rush me. This flaquita morena actually made love to me rather than just fucking me. The whole experience actually got quite intense as I started pumping her pretty hard. I could tell she loved that. I knew afterwards I would remember this girl long after this day. For there’s nothing quite like being treated like a man when you come from a culture that hates men and hates sex.

We talk a few more minutes in Spanish, and I learn this girl is actually studying. They all say they are, but she has books in her room with her. I pay her more than what she was asking for, and get her number before I leave. This girl might be selling it, but she made me feel better inside than most American women I’ve dated because she respected me.

That’s why I monger in the zonas once in a while. Not only is sex a human psychological need as detailed in Maslow’s hierarchy, but it’s nice to be treated like a human being by a woman and not a walking, talking cash machine. I gotta tell you, mutual respect is where it’s at. Life is stranger than fiction sometimes, in that a $40 whore can make a man feel more complete than a woman he’s invested thousands or even hundreds of thousands of dollars in.

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Abundance Mentality: Turning Down Free Sex


Women aren’t as alluring once you know their psychology

I am turning down some 20-year old pussy.

I can’t believe I just said that. But it’s true. I have a girl in St. Louis sending me nude photos of herself, and the offer for a NSA tryst is on the table if only I swing by and hit it. She’s not even asking for dinner. She has awesome tits. She has a pretty puss. What’s more strange about this situation is my route takes me through St. Louis, and I have extra time on my hands. It’s very nearly the perfect setup.

But, it’s a tricky situation. First off, this chick still lives with her parents. Second, she has a great body butterface knocks her down to about a SMV 6½ or so. Third, I know from talking to her she’s been around the block a couple of times. Fourth, I’m spoiled with frankly superior women abroad. American chicks just don’t do it for me anymore. I know they’re an inferior product that typically comes at a very high price. They’re aggravating, unfeminine, and awkward compared to the primo cuts I enjoy abroad. (They’re also usually fat, but this chick isn’t fat.)

One of the main issues is, once a man knows the twisted psychology of women, sex becomes something of a novelty because you know what the ass you’re banging is attached to. A predator and a dissimulator. And as all PUA For Life guys know the more success a man has with women, the less impressive getting laid is. It’s abundance mentality.

I also know I will more than make up for it once I finish earning my freedom money, and flee the states to live abroad again in just two short months. So, I’ll let this one slide. But at least I know I’ve still got it. I’m pushing 40 and can get pussy half my age pretty much anytime I want it. What a difference the manosphere can make in a dude’s life.

Have you turned down some free ass recently? Did it put your mind into a pickle…asking yourself, at least for a minute, “What the hell am I doing, turning down sex?”

What a change, from being sexually needy to having more sex and more women than a man cares to handle. That’s about all the personal satisfaction a man can ask for. Perhaps there is something to Maslow’s Hierarchy, after all. With a man’s sexual desires filled, he’s able to move on to nobler pursuits rather than focusing on hedonism all the time. (Although, there’s nothing wrong with some regular hedonism!)

As as side note, for those interested in my trucking adventures…I just grossed over $1,000 this week. I’m fattening up that freedom fund quite nicely. I’ll be delving into some good old-fashioned womanizing, hellraising fun soon enough. I think I just want out of America and this cultural cesspool at this point. I’ve been here long enough, and need a breather in saner, happier places.

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Eating on $5 a Day


Sandwiches save big money if you make them yourself

Most people think getting a meal for $5 is a bargain. It ain’t. I figured that out a while back, and came up with what I thought at the time was a radical plan to make that much money cover an entire day. It worked wonderfully, and I enjoyed everything from steaks to eggs, bacon and homemade pancakes while at home. Every TNMM reader already knows Anglobitches won’t raise a finger to cook, so we have to “man up” (heh) and learn how make our own food.

Since adopting minimalism, and realizing I can buy experiences that will last a lifetime with my money rather than meals that will soon become excrement, I’ve slashed my food costs to $5 a day. And I have been quite happy with my arrangement. But trucking presented a new set of problems. Mainly, not having a full kitchen to take advantage of.

As I mentioned before, I’ve literally been eating on a budget like this for years. I’ve lost weight by planning meals. I’ve cut down on waste and aggravation by streamlining and simplifying. I’ve saved tons of cash. And I’ve adapted this plan to hyper-save while I’m in the throes of The Matrix, driving 3,000 miles a week earning that precious freedom money to power my mini-adventures here in the USA and my major adventures abroad.

In an orally fixated, obese culture, some will no doubt find the way I handle my food budget horrifying. I look at it this way. If you want to spend your paycheck on over-processed, over-seasoned food at Uncle Moe’s Family Feedbag (yes, that’s a Simpsons reference) then be my guest. Your wallet and your waistline will take a beating. Enjoy yourself.

But here’s how I eat on $5 a day while on the road, and fatten my bank account.

Bologna, ham, and other cold cuts are part of the agenda. Sandwiches made with wheat bread are a staple, and cold cuts can be stored in the mini-fridge I bought for my sleeper. A spice rack help keeps things interesting when preparing tuna salad or chicken salad. There’s even some potted meat that actually goes will with mayo and mustard mixed together. Then there’s potato chips (always the store brand) alongside cans of chili, Chef Boyardee, and other canned goods.

Since I don’t have a stove, or a lot of time, everything I do on the road is pretty much ready to eat food. Some will say I should install a stove and a microwave and all this, but to me it’s not minimalism if I’m spending money unnecessarily. I’m only planning on being in the U.S. for 6 months or so at a time. Things have to work, and they have to work without needlessly spending money on comfort-maximizing accessories.

Bottled water and Walmart store brand sodas are my daily beverages, along with instant Kool-Aid and iced tea packets to keep things interesting. It’s Walmart brand Pop Tarts for breakfast. Celery sticks, carrots, cherry tomatoes and a big tub of ranch dressing for snacktime.

This all comes out to $3 to $5 a day for 2,000 calories. To me, the whole idea is cheap calories that are there whenever I need them. While food snobs will be aghast, I know I’m not missing anything by skipping the drive-thru and the sit down restaurants they worship. (I eat a fast food burger once or twice a a week to remind myself how bad they are, and reward myself with a proper meal at a nicer restaurant once a week.)

The good news is, I’m literally gaining $400-500 extra a month in my budget vs. other truck drivers (and GloboWorldCorp employees) who eat out every meal. Just the savings on food is enough to pay for a monthly excursion when I finish my 23 days on the road and take my week off.

And as a result of cost-cutting like this, I’m currently saving around 95% of my income to take with me abroad, where I’ll have hot Latinas and Asian women cooking up delicacies right in front of me that make ersatz American food taste like the crap it is. You know, to make up for the sacrifice I made eating on the cheap in my truck.

See, it’s not so bad after all.

Do you know how much you’re spending on food each day? How do you do things at home? Or, if you’re on the road how do you eat decently while saving?

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Schadenfreude: Watching White Women Who Aren’t Getting Their Way


White girls still haven’t realized they lost more with feminism than they gained

Here’s a short story from the road as I suffer through my last couple of months in America before leaving to go abroad again this fall. There were two moments of schadenfreude, or pleasure derived from another person’s misfortune, I had today. Both scenarios involved white girls who didn’t get their way, and their reactions as I observed them.

It was really a delight to witness their disgust and powerlessness. There are other, more entertaining moments I witness white girls who are upset by their new roles as soulless worker drones in society, but for some reason these two stood out in my mind as they happened.

Just to let readers know, I don’t like white chicks. I haven’t liked them for a long time. My most recent experience with one was when I banged a 23-year old white girl off and on for a year or so just before I dumped her to run off to Latin America, but typically I don’t have anything to do with them. (True story: She faked a pregnancy to try and keep me from leaving. She also tried to get knocked up by secretly removing her IUD. I’m not your child support slave, bitch.) I’ve had experience sexually and otherwise with every major ethnicity of women, and trust me, white chicks are the worst of the worst. They are, after all, the progenitors of rotten Anglo culture we discuss so often here at TNMM and Anglobitch.

Anyway, neither instance of schadenfreude is anything major. They just tickled me as they happened.

In the first case, I was pulling out from a truck stop and a white girl wanted to pull into the Burger King beside me. Of course, I could have let her in as there were two trucks in front of me at the intersection, but I have such a mental block against any act of chivalry towards Anglo females since they constantly tell men how terrible we are, that they don’t need us, and that the world would be better off without us and our awful sexual needs around. I can’t play nice anymore.

She looked up at me from her little toy box SUV and put on the nice face, with the puppy dog eyes. She’s obviously a regular user of the pussy pass. So, I looked her right in the face and moved my semi into a position to block her. Emotionless. Cold. Stone faced. She immediately shifted to a posture of disgust and amazement that I wouldn’t let her in. As traffic finally started to move and I moved forward, I made note of her expression and enjoyed her look of outrage after I did the unthinkable and made her wait an extra minute to pull in for her next recreational eating session.

I laughed and laughed about that as I pulled onto the Interstate.

In the second instance, I don’t normally like to eat out but I was in the mood for a sloppy fast food burger this evening. I haven’t had one in weeks, and decided to stop by a national chain to pick up some trash food. As soon as I walked in, I saw one rather plump white woman weeping, another trashy one consoling her from the front of the counter, and several other white girls behind the counter toiling away. All were fast food workers who obviously hated their new roles as corporate slaves. A couple were cute, but cuteness does nothing for me. I’m still an asshole when it comes to dealing with chicks.

I thought, “Isn’t female empowerment wonderful, ladies?! Now you can slave away at menial jobs just like men rather than having a nasty family to take care of!”

All the white girls behind the counter had bleached hair, and the look of disbelief on their faces they they had to do manual labor to earn some money. They all seemed to have the attitude, “Where is my male meal ticket to exploit and berate? I’m too good to be doing a job like this. I have the precious, pink anatomy!”

So, I look one of the fake blondies in the eyes and make my order. I talk to her as though she’s my subordinate, which in this case she is, and you can tell it just kills her that a man is telling her what to do and how to make his sandwich. Ah, the sumptuous irony that even after feminism these white girls still end up making sandwiches for men. Gotta love it!

Of course, she fucks up my order.

I notice when I get to the truck the burger is plain with cheese, when all I wanted to do is add cheese to it. I plainly told her this. She undoubtedly did it as a shit test to see if I would come back. Naturally, I go back in with a mischievous spirit. This time, blondie hides from me and fatty comes up to assist me. I tell her no less than 3 times in a very polite but stern way, I wanted this normal, not plain, add cheese. She’s baffled by my request. The third time I tell her, she cops an attitude.

She takes the burger, hands it to the only guy in the place, and tells him, “I don’t know what he wants.” Dude comes up, I tell him the exact same thing I told fatty, laugh in a cocky manner about it, and he immediately fixes my order in a cool, calm, professional manner rather than the estrogen-filled flailing around I witnessed from the YouGoGrrl brigade on this visit.

Yet another irony appears. If I want something done right, I have to get a man to do it. Meantime, the blondies continued twirling their hair and complaining about their jobs in the background.

To close, I have no mercy on white girls or their fucking problems, anymore. I played nice guy for half a lifetime only to be used and abused by them. They wanted their so-called empowerment, now they have it. Enjoy those burger-flipping jobs, babies. You won’t have a man like me or millions of other once “good men” to kick around anymore. Now you can pay for your own conspicuous consumption with your meager wages.

Here’s the sad truth you girls haven’t figured out yet. Feminism burned you, it dethroned you, and it turned you into a worker bee rather than queens of the castle. Enjoy the bed you made, because a motherfucker like me is going to enjoy watching you lie in it. I’ll be doing everything I can to make life a little bit harder for you. And encouraging millions of other men to do the same.

And getting a kick out of it, too.

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