As some of you I am sure, know by now, I have been under attack by Autogynephilic men in the UK for some time. These are real trash, especially given that they chose the death of my beloved Sam as the time to mount this attack.
These basically amount to two people, Paul Brittain (aka Sarah Britain and Lynn Britain) and another, Jackson Stokes, aka Joey Wickham and Jagdeep Jano. Brittain is a former employee of Wolverhampton Council and lives in Wolverhampton. I have the full address. He has an alleged history of grooming, one example of which I will give as it was related to me. He is alleged to have been doing this since the 1990s and would appear to be at best a dubious, if not dangerous, character. He attempted to involve me in his grooming gang, as the ‘resident expert,’ but I was not prepared to go along with it.
Men fall into three categories. They are either transattracted, that is, attracted to transsexual women, gay, or lying.
That is because regular, heterosexual males are attracted to femininity and nobody does that better than a transsexual woman. Nobody. Natal women should pay them for their beauty secrets, certainly in the West today. (In Asia they already do.)
Nobody is attracted to a sex. How often have you, assuming you claim to be a ‘straight’ man, demanded to see the inside of a woman’s panties before you decided you were attracted to her? Not once. And the very fact of asking to see her bits would indicate that you were already attracted enough to want to know more. (What would you do if you found a sausage in there? Well you could suck it. It would be polite. You know, after getting her to drop ’em. A little reward?)
We have discussed self-ideation several times here but I think a more in-depth analysis of it is needed. So today I’m looking at self-ideation in the context of three conditions that we have also discussed, in order to highlight both how they affect self-ideation and to give us a better understanding of what it is.
The three contexts I’ve chosen to discuss self-ideation in are Borderline Personality Disorder, Dark Triad and Autogynephilia. These are quite different and self-ideation within them is also different, but they complement each other to give us a holistic overview.
I first read about the Songlines in the late Bruce Chatwyn’s eponymous book, and even then the concept fascinated me. The Songlines are massively complex, but essentially devolve to the creation mythology of the First Australians. In this, every animal had an anthropomorphic first ancestor—so there was Kangaroo-Man, Koala-Man, Lizard-Man and so on. Each human tribe is also derived from one of those ancestors. In the dawn of time, these ancestors walked through the world, literally singing it into existence.
The words they sang are the Songlines, handed down through the millennia of human life on the continent.
It’s a striking thought that civilisation evolved here on Earth only 7,000 years ago. Since then, humans have achieved many really incredible things. But even in terms of our own—mostly unwritten—history, 7,000 years is almost insignificant; it’s less than 4 % of the time Homo sapiens, the storytelling ape, has existed.
Well, summer did finally arrive here in P’tit Moulin and the warm balmy days are back. I must say they are very welcome, and could have been here sooner. The girls are all out in their skimpiest dresses, to show off their golden-tanned skin and the boys…well, who cares about the boys anyway?
This Bastille Day was celebrated with the usual style in our village. I have photographs of this going back twenty years now, and it’s amazing to see how people have aged. Children who used to run around the square or sit on the banc outside our house have children of their own now. It’s always the same band, who come from the next town. And it’s always the same tunes… Continue reading “Bastille Day!”
Les Flics: just as you can’t write about life in France without discussing wine, you can’t write about it without discussing that greatest of scourges, the bugbear and bane of everyone’s lives and a daily topic of conversation all over France, third only to the weather and politics. And what are les flics? The cops, of course.
Mostly, when the French talk about les flics, they are talking specifically about traffic cops, who are universally regarded with almost unlimited contempt and no respect at all. However, when the occasion merits, they expand the concept to include any other kind of cop who’s been getting in the way of the French being French. Continue reading “Flics: Traffic cops in France”