Originally Posted by
Sammael
An action leads to a reaction. Not even a reaction, a meh moment. Like a bit of flatulence it soon passes. Now let’s see some dumb arse punter misquote the above.
So I write about you poor misguided souls.
This is for you.
Society has programmed your subconscious to be subservient, poor, lonely and unhappy. Only a conscious few realise this and escape society’s shackles.
Interest rates, inflation, unemployment, are there any other big scary topics to keep the man down? I read enough of those threads here even. You guys self perpetuate your own fear. Cost of a punt, the shops must be doing it hard, girls must be getting rich, how much are you spending? Who gives a fuck if it doesn’t affect you.. but wait it does. You’re all stuck on the merry go round. Stuck in your 9-5, pensions, or SMSF’s. You’re already pre-programmed to a limited life. Credit cards, car loan, home loan, feel those shackles boys, they’re getting tighter. Not much money left now to punt. Ciggies, alcohol, gambling, a partner. Even less money to punt now! Better write a thread complaining about the cost of something, but what? They’ve all been done before…
Look at the new guy on the forum. He’s not towing the punting line! He’s spending more, he’s punting more. We can’t have that. It must be fiction, he’s lying, he’s crazy, he’s a nutcase. It’s impossible even!
Punting numerous women at once or almost every other day is something that does not compute in your feeble minds. It defies male logic even! Your programming is even reinforced by other likeminded individual’s comments. Negative reinforcement. One posts a negative comment and more follow suit. Just like lemmings you all follow one another. It’s validated by the continual subject matter repeated forum threads. I could leave and come back ten years later and you guys would still be posting on all the same topics but on version fifty of “Dating a WL” and “Cost per Punt” version seventy as that’s more important because it relates to money or what is left in your pockets after you get off the treadmill every night.
Do I care? No. Do I feel any pity? No. You are the people stuck on society’s pre ordained pre programmed treadmill while I stand outside, observe and do exactly as I please.
(Can anyone spare me a tenner for my next bit of WL gratuity? I’ll tell her where it came from if it makes you feel any better. Who knows, she may even laugh, normally a laugh costs a twenty…)