Daddy's Little Princess and the Sweat-Stained Meat Flaps

Those heavy sacks of fat that cause spinal problems and bad posture in the weaker half of the human race are bestowed upon half the world's population. More than half, now that the obesity has really set in. 

Contrary to popular belief, plastic women weren't invented in the 1960s. Dangerously fake women are as old as the hills.

But not every hussy keeps her sausage-trapping meat flaps.

Not satisfied with cramping their wombs every month, God may further curse some of the unfairer sex with aggressive forms of cancer. 

Some show them off. Some cut them off.

Examples include women like Angelina Jolie, who cut hers off for good reason and Ellen Page, who cut hers off for a very bad reason. 

But from what I've seen (and I've seen plenty), women have advertised their curves for centuries to make sure everyone knows they're a woman. 

Because being mistaken for a man is almost the worst thing that can ever happen to a woman.

If women were the victims of abuse just for being women, you'd expect them to hide all those things, because that would be normal, rational, expected behavior. 

Do you know how a woman reacts after she's actually abused because she's female? When you know where to look, you'll see them everywhere. 

They hide their bodies away under a big layer of fat so no man will ever see them as a woman. To them, their fat is like armor. It protects them from unwanted attention. They'll also cut their hair short. Why? Because they're quite finished being treated like a woman. 

Women in their 50s used to bob their hair short. Now women are barely out of their teens by the time they've cut it all off.

When a woman wants to show off her body, she strips off her clothes, her armor, her fat and her inhibitions and reveals (usually to the gentleman in her life) how female she is.

And in public, she also uses cleavage to remind everyone just how female she is. Heaven forbid anyone forgets that she's a female and deserves to be treated like one.

No one will know anything about her achievements. She won't wear a medal, if she's got one. Won't carry a trophy. But "BY GOD IN HEAVEN EVERYONE MUST KNOW THAT I HAVE BREASTS", the harlots all demand.

And in alarmingly high numbers, they'd rather die than droop, performing medically unnecessary procedures to point their ICBMs toward heaven.

When all of society seems to be captivated by propaganda and the deification of women and their ankle-twisting foot spikes.

Beware of Misdirection.

Many clueless men have lost a fortune to a woman and all her shiny objects. A woman of virtue dresses modestly and refuses to wear jewelry. To the wandering eye, she is plain enough to be practically invisible to lecherous predators. 

The pick pocket and the gold-digger use may use shiny objects, carefully-chosen fancy clothes and the carefully-practiced art of misdirection. 

The same way a thief picks your pocket by directing your finite attention over your shoulder.

Professional pick-pocket Apollo Robbins demonstrates the power of misdirection, a technique favored by media manipulators.

While karate masters learn to break boards, a gold-digger learns to break balls. Paying her divorce attorney's way through law school her profession, after all. The world's OLDEST profession.

So the devil (always a pimp) focuses your attention on the roundness, the perkiness or bounciness of certain disrobed attributes, rather than an unmarried, childless woman's nasal twang or her man-voice.

The empty-headed, brainless bimbo may be treated by society (*by the media and Satan's propaganda divisions) like a self-cleaning sex toy, but she's somehow smart enough to trick a man out of his financial virginity, persistently prying open his virgin wallet and looting and squandering a provider's purity, potential and purpose. 

In doing so, she's robbed a sacred vault of its priceless treasures from heaven and killed a family's future as surely as if she'd lit the match to set them all on fire.

There's an expression: Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?

Buying a woman isn't like buying a cow. It's like buying a house. If half of all houses burned down without being covered by insurance, cost an arm and a leg in upkeep and maintenance, and could be expected to kill almost all your children whether it caught fire or not.

The Formative Years of A Hustling Hussie

To understand the woman, you must know the child. I had the opportunity to witness part of the upbringing of one of these modern-day harlots. The socially-sanctioned kind. The spoiled, entitled type of modern woman prostitute who refuses to acknowledge what her real career goals are. 

Plantation owner is the closest approximation I can think of. 

From the earliest years, she's not a "young lady", but "daddy's little princess" who always gets her way, in preparation for every man in her life to be enslaved to the "old ball and chain."

Eventually she's married off young. A foolish young man who prizes her chemically-induced infertility rides all the playground rides in random order. But it wasn't her idea. 

Parents insist on putting their daughters on the pill "to be safe", "just in case", or to prevent "unwanted pregnancy". They had the talk. That talk. That talk about responsible young people who always use condoms.

Directing Your Own Focus 

"Lead us not into temptation." - Matthew 6

In much the same way we could focus on the harlot's man-hating personality (or her utter lack of personality or personhood) we can focus on hairs. Little hairs. Flaws. Moles. Imperfections slightly out of place. What's called a "beauty mark" is actually a hairy ugly mark when there's any occasion to resist temptation. 

One might remind themselves of the fact that a certain disgusting, diseased area of the human body in fact produces a teaspoon per day of sweat, leaving greasy, salty stains on certain parts of the clothing. 

Almost gagged just writing it.

Behind every woman, no matter how beautiful, is a man who's tired of being with her, tired of paying for it, sick to death of her interrupting him with "honey?" in a never-ending string of inane requests.

He gets sick and tired of her bull sharks and other steaming piles. Particularly after catching a rash from a floozy caused by her complete inability to be faithful. If he's lucky, he can go see a doctor and get it cleared up. 

With experience, men finally begin to raise their standards and stand up for themselves. They expect more. They start looking in different places. The sweet, peaceful neighborhoods where all the playgrounds are safe, stable, dependable and regularly cleaned.

Hopefully they choose to learn the easy way. From the hard-won experiences of others. 

Breaking The Devil's Power

Even in the most physical sports, the vast majority of success in the game is mental, according to top athletes. 

In order to keep control of your thinking, you have to get control in the first place. You need a shock to the system. A surprise. A "pattern interrupt", as the kids are calling it these days.

It takes practice to form a new habit of thinking. But that practice begins in a moment of decision.

Certain body parts lose much of their power when you call them "sweat-stained meat flaps" or "fleshy protrusions" that need to be wiped clean at least once a week to prevent the itchy mold and grime from setting in and emitting an odor from all the things that died in there.

Hopefully the underwire never digs in and leaves a bad staph infection.

When gibber-gabber women strap on the sweat-stained meat flap covers and clop off in their ankle-twisters, they expect us to take them seriously. 

The real secret to finding a woman with a sense of humor isn't to find a woman who laughs at your jokes. That's easy. You want to find a woman who can laugh even when the joke's on them.

You don't want any woman who thinks she can do a man's work. These women are making the exact same mistake as the people on American Idol who THINK they can sing. But it's twice as embarrassing.

Until it's absolutely necessary, women should leave their meat flaps at home and make themselves useful.


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