Showing posts with label Darwin himself could not explain your existence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Darwin himself could not explain your existence. Show all posts

Monday, September 29, 2014

Sgt. Pecker's Never Touched Club Crybaby Whingefest Complainathon


Dear Wench Whisperer,

    my problem is I can't find a girlfriend. Women don't appreciate me. They use me and exploit me. They manipulate me and then give me nothing in return for my troubles. No matter how many favors I do them or how much money I spend on them I don't get anything for it. The last time I took a woman out I paid for everything the whole evening but then when I suggested we go back to my place she said she was tired and just wanted to go home and sleep. No sex, no romance, after all the money and trouble I'd gone thru.
    This has happened before, hell it happens every time, with all women. I make a good living and I drive a nice car but that's not enough for them. What do they want anyway? Why are all women so superficial? Even the ugly ones are superficial. Why can't they appreciate what I do for them? Don't I deserve at least something for the efforts I make?

-Lonely and It's Not My Fault

Loser,

    please, somebody just dig me a grave so i can roll over in it.  The bilge has been seriously scraped for subject matter this time. Your problem is contemptablecommon and not even close to interesting, but your letter is such a caviling, carping complainathon i feel like i just read a chapter of the Mangina Monologues and, for that reason alone, i simply Must. Have. Revenge. 
    Do you honestly believe that the only reason you can't find a girlfriend is because the cold and usurious females of the world are incapable of fathoming your awesomeness and hence don't realize what they're missing? Keep believing that, monkeyassdear reader, and if your head gets any bigger it's going to break your sphincter.
    i can't advise you on how to find a girlfriend because, for one thing, i'm not the Guru of How-To-Succeed-With-Women-Despite-Being-A-Clumsy-Thirty-Year-Old-Hard-on-Attached-To-A-Clueless-Ten-Year-Old-Mind and, for another thing, i think most women are better off not being your girlfriend. But since Mutiny gets pissed if i don't send them a column i'm here to help, i will identify your problem for you and thus, possibly, enable happiness and fulfillment to manifest within your contemptable, uselesstroubled life. You're welcome.
    Your problem is that you don't like women. You are angry at them after years of rejection and thousands of solitary nights spent swabbing your own bowsprit whilst plowing thru a fishless sea. You despise women yet in a paroxysm of irrationality feel that you deserve to have one. You can't find a girl at all yet insist that "Even the ugly ones are superficial." That line alone could win you the Nobel Idiot Prize.
    Your anger is palpable to women. They sense that hostility and just want to get away from it. i don't blame them. While some people radiate charisma, you just radiate 'needy,' 'desperate' and 'stalker.'     
    The good news is there are plenty of women who'll overlook your resentful demeanor and who'll gladly put out after you spend money on them. They're called prostitutes. There are also women who'll listen to your cry-baby bitchfests about how you've been done wrong by an uncaring world, they're called psychiatrists (but they're much more expensive). Still, you probably need one of those more than anything else right now.
    Lastly; since i won'tcan't help you find a prostitutegirlfriend -or even give you the least splinter of hope that you ever will- i'm going to open the Olde Pirate's Dictionary and introduce you to a very useful nautical term.
    Frigging: A kindly, though solitary, easement of nature, commonly practiced by seafaring men, particularly on lengthy and arduous voyages when feminine compire is lacking. Their worn and callused hands indeed providing but the barest relief from that incessantly recurrent swelling which doth afflict and torment them.
    Get familiar with it because, judging by your letter, you may have a lifetime membership in Sgt. Pecker's Never Touched Club.

- You've been whispered.

Monday, September 23, 2013

I See Pornography and Loneliness in Your Future...


Dear Wench Whisperer,

Over the past few weeks my girlfriend has changed from the sweetest person in the world to being cruel and cold-hearted. I've been nothing but a gentleman at all times, mind you, and have always treated her as a goddess. I took my time to woo her -leaving a red rose on her doorstep every day for a week before even introducing myself- because I'm a very romantic person. We've been together five months now and my passion hasn't waned. I draw her a bath with rose-petals whenever she stays overnight, etc. Anyway, lately she hasn't been herself. She doesn't seem to care when I write her a new poem or even bother to thank me for the flowers I send every week. Sometimes I'll phone her and she doesn't answer. I'll go by her house and I can see through her window that she's there. She'll never find anyone who treats her as well as I do so why is she avoiding me? This hurts me more than I can possibly describe. In my life I've had my heart broken time and time again but I know I've found the perfect girl for me this time, my soulmate. What can I do? Help me please! 

-I'll Just Die If I Lose Her.

Dear LoseHer,

    if one could get tooth decay from saccharine prose i would have brushed after reading your letter (as is, i only had to reach for an air-sickness bag). And you write her poetry too? Ouch.
    Nietzsche asserted that those things which don't kill us make us stronger and when we look into an abyss the abyss is also looking into us. But in your case he was wrong, because that which hasn't killed you has only made you dumber. And the abyss isn't just looking back at you, it's got its legs wrapped around your head and has pulled you in so deep you can't see out of it. That abyss is your own denial of obvious reality.
    If you think ignoring your phone calls is "cruel and cold-hearted" then you've yet to plunge the shallowest depths of feminine unpleasantness. You have a nice wench here. So nice that she won't tell you the truth. But, since you wrote to me, i'll tell you what the problem is: She. Can't. Stand. Your. Guts. She wants out. That's it. Short and sour. Glad you asked?
    She's inhibited from telling you this because you've made quite clear -by your frequent overblown and exaggerated displays- that you'd be devastated and probably kill yourself over it. Her fear of your potential suicide or future stalkerdom has slightly outweighed her burden of enduring your presence (for the moment). She knows if she dumps you you'll either off yourself in some pretentious way or be camping at her doorstep with flowers she doesn't want, shouting bad poetry up to her window and otherwise embarrassing her. She is being cold to you because she wants you to end it, therefore assuring her that you'll actually Go. Away. once it's over. Since you're too dense to perceive her clear message though, she may give up on this strategy and come up with something more brutal.
    i would guess that when your mother told you you were "special" you misinterpreted what she meant, and neither are you likely to fathom why any wench wouldn't appreciate your awesomeness, so i'll explain. The reason she doesn't value your grand romantic gestures is because they aren't worth anything. Why? Because you give them away on a whim, you squander them on mere acquaintances. You gave her a red rose before you knew whether or not you even liked her. That's. Completely. Wrong. It may have gotten her to notice you but it also showed her that you're fickle and shallow. Well done, Dog Juan. Rubbing against her leg panting and drooling would have sent the same message.
    A red rose is an expression of passionate romantic fervor for the specific woman who receives it. It's very personal, and it's blasphemous to give one to a woman you don't love. The roses you left at her door were ostentatious frivolities void of any personal meaning. Hell, you didn't even know her, she just happened to be nearby. Eventually she realized you would have given those roses and written those poems to any random woman in close enough proximity to you. 
    That doesn't make a girl feel exceptional.
    So, no, your premature flowerfication didn't woo her, it simply wore her down along with your ambush of cloying words and annoying sweetnesses until, like a mighty beast stung to death by mosquitoes her resistance gave way to exhaustion, likely urged on by pity and liquor. Now she realizes her mistake and she just wants you to go away. So do it. i could advise you on how to get her to like you again but i won't because you are a stalker and you shouldn't associate with any wench. Ever. You've already admited going to her home and staring into her window just because she didn't answer the phone. What's next? Reading her mail? Searching her trash dumpster for used rubbers and sniffing them to make sure the contents came from you? Be honorable and break up with this wench. Then never bother her again. Otherwise, sooner or later, she'll shoot you. Dead. just to be rid of you. 
    And, no, this woman is not your "soulmate" nor will she break your heart. What the hell is a heart worth if it's that easy to win and to hurt? A broken heart can't occur more than once or twice in a lifetime. If you think it's happened to you "time and time again." then, believe me, it's never actually happened to you at all. Your vaguely painful pangs do not compare to the real thing but, chin up, you'll probably never experience the real thing.
    Hope this helps. You're welcome.
     
-You've Been Whispered.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Peace is Not an Option

Dear Wench Whisperer,

    Last night I was awakened by my fiancee emptying a pot of scalding coffee on my crotch. I screamed and rolled onto the floor to get away from her. Then she broke the glass pot over my head. I locked myself in the bathroom and she began kicking at the door and accusing me of having cheated on her. While it's true that I didn't come home on New Year's night, that was only because I was too drunk and I passed out. The reason I didn't call was because I'd puked on my cellphone but she thinks it's because I was shagging another wench.

    This wasn't the first time she's attacked me. Sometimes I don't even know that she's angry until I hear a sudden scream or a nail file stabs me from behind. When she finally tells me what she's mad about it's usually some silly triviality and she can't explain why she became violent over it. She'll insist it was her hormones that caused her mood to swing and therefore she wasn't really responsible for her behavior and tells me I'm an insensitive bastard if I don't understand that.
    Can a woman's hormones really cause her to behave like a homicidal freak? If so, what can I do about it? We intend to be married in a few weeks but I may just run for my life instead. I want to make things work but I'm terrified of her.

-Burned and Fearful


Dear Burned (and deserves to be if he marries this shrew)


    it doesn't matter why a woman breaks things over your head, what matters is that she does it. And her hormones are a part of her just as much as her face or her mind or that wretched misery-spewing pit that passes for her soul. If her hormones want to kill you then she wants to kill you. Accept that.

    Consider, as well; men have hormones too. Including a powerful hormone called testosterone which compels us to infidelities, random violence and aspirations of world-domination, yet men don't get the luxury of blaming testosterone for murders, wars, or even the occasional ass-grab. As men, we are expected to keep our hormones under control. Try shagging her best friend and then asking her to understand because your hormones made you act against your will. Women are often able to inculpate "hormonal imbalances" for their own irrational actions but no man has ever won with the "testosterone made me do it" defense. It's an unfair double standard, but life is unfair. Accept that, too.
    But before you change your identity and relocate under the Federal PMS Protection Program remember that a woman's inner psycho-bitch will (usually) never manifest at all unless the right asshole comes along to coax it out of her. So ask yourself whether or not You. Are. That. Asshole. If so, please don't inflict yourself upon the rest of the female species. Keep the one you have. You deserve her and nobody else deserves either of you.
    Lastly, whether you provoked this treatment or not, if you marry this wench then you are an idiot who deserves to be killed and supplanted by a more intelligent species. You're so stupid that Darwin himself could not explain your existence. Now, wait until her back is turned and Run. Like. Hell. 

-You've been whispered.