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.
Sniff! She died. She’s been with me these last five years, and she’d been around a good few years before we met. She was like a female character out of a Springsteen lyric, kinda worn and raggedy, but she stuck with me through thick and thin. I don’t know how many films or repeats of TV series I’ve watched with her, or how many words I wrote with her, but I do know the paint was gone from most of her keys at the end…I did explain it was my old laptop that died, didn’t I?
My neighbour was given this with a load of other bits and bobs. She thought it was a toy, but closer examination made me disagree. For a start, it was quite clearly a gun of some order, but it didn’t have any kind of handle. There wasn’t a conventional trigger either.
It might have been a toy cannon, but it didn’t have a carriage. Yet opening it up revealed that it was chambered to take a real twelve-bore shotgun cartridge. Plus it’s made of very heavy cast iron. It’s just not like a child’s toy at all.
All humans, with the exceptions of a tiny minority with disorders of sexual development (DSDs) or Intersex, are either male or female. So there are two sexes.
We are not tilapia, frogs or molluscs, and these sexes are fixed for life. Sex can never be changed. The nonsense that biological sex has no basis in reality and can be changed from male to female is just that, nonsense. It derives from Post-Modernism; a rotten, toxic ideology. But that means we must explain the phenomenon of transsexualism, and to do that we’ll focus on the form found in Luzon in the Philippines, the bakla.
The explanation hinges on the critical difference between sex and gender. These are not the same.
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.