WTFecles

Hiss FM. The voice of Cobra 🩵

I stopped being lonely the moment I realized that the price to be paid was not only a consistent and unrelenting financial drain, but potentially a process of opening up myself to drama the likes of which a Greek tragedy would undoubtedly lose tickets over. Then, it happened… Like moths to a flame… The moment I stopped caring… The moment I was content with peace… Sweet sustainable peace and a reasonable amount of financial security… Like wounded animals whimpering at the pain from the thistle bushes they trampled through to get to the bait left by those who sought only to trap them and to feast… My reality must surely be different from yours. But it reappears with a relentless consistency which demonstrates to me in spades that women can be our mothers but never truly our friends. At least I cannot save with great foreboding imagine such a thing. And I must emphasize especially not where I am in this particular timeline of my existence. So, I shall in all of my relationships have one boot facing the door. And by virtue of wisdom gained by Providence, I shall always apply a cruel permanence to any and all words spoken to me by them either in haste or in ignorance so that they shall always eat the fruit of their own mouths. In this I have found for at least some reliable time those agreeable relationships with women that can be built upon an oftentimes unspoken understanding that like the wind, they know not in which way I shall turn, or worse, when a gale might approach. Consistency and reliability with all of its virtues is, for all intent and purposes lost upon them. So, I resolve to always be a renegade and a rogue and resistant to any machinations of their hands. For to a woman a man’s promise of permanence is nothing more than a means to an end, and that only to satiate a desire that soon finds itself mired in a boredom that bleeds out the same vein. This society is most unsalvageable even were its menfolk capable of mustering the strength of a Hercules and the wisdom of a Solomon. It can only be salvaged through the return of objectionable methods of austerity and cruelty or the forcible imputation of religious principles applied even haphazardly. If not, then sub-par men shall migrate in droves to seize every benefit the citizenry have been denied and the women shall eventually prat about dressed as beekeepers haranguing any kind-eyed male about how they were abandoned to this fate as there were no real men left. Well back to the Time Machine. I’d like to give a shout out to my mother for not strangling me when things got tough. Other than that, the rest of you bitches can pound sand. Thanks for saying the quiet part out loud. Sincerely, H. G. Wells.

Some sensible rants need to be enshrined for posterity. This is one of them. 🔥