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queenofallwitches · 3 years

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an update and primer:

so the last winter was weird. I had a complete breakdown, went into psychiatric hospital for 40 days in total. two seperate times.

learnt a heap of new things, met a tonne of cool people and had amazing conversations and few fights but overcome my own demons by that.

brain speaking-I have a scarred brain stem and neurological disorder is not a mental diagnosis, but a neurological disorder, proven by MRI scan, ADHD.

also damage to my basal ganglia, and prefrontal cortex.

neurological diagnosis means ADHD is not a "mental" health issue, as some believe, rather a neurodevelopment disorder caused by structural differences in the ADHD brain.

other neurodevelopment disorders include: Tourettes, Autism, Cerebal Palsy, Dyslexia and other Motor and Intellectual Disabilities. (Which recieve, in my view, a lot of insight, media information and stigma reduction by the advocacy networks surrounding these types of disability).

Over the last few years Autism has been over everything, I've seen mainstream media cover Tourettes and yet ADHD is still HUGELY misunderstood, misconceived and misrepresented in media, be in from the angle of documentaries, personal insight of a "typical" case, films, tv, and other media.

one of the first things my dr told me was "in females it rarely presents as hyperactive red-cordial OD child"

which is what my mother BELIEVES, that is because I have an adopted cousin with the ADHD dx who was that growing up, but the representation I'm told is also divergent for women with a higher IQ score than the average IQ. I come in around 142 and tested 123 at age 3 when I was unable to focus, pay attention and had severe trauma. I tested 142 in grade 8.

I'll share my experience as a female who is intellectually gifted, with higher IQ than average, and an adhd brain:

I've been told gifted and talented "genius" children are harder to diagnose because the symptoms present differently, we hide it better (camouflage) and our focusing can be "faked" by mediocre efforts of academic success.. this is true, I would do the assignment the Sunday night hours deadline, last minute, or have my parents half do it for me, plagiarise it (fuck I've killed my whole academic career now) copied but changed my words

from old 1970s encyclopaedias I KNEW they couldn't cross reference (I went through 15 years of school never studying doing homework or assignments and still had top grades).

I literally did not listen, and spent my classes planning the end of the world survival strategies with my GT friend who, basically helped me with my calculus and hard fucking maths, which was the ONLY 50 minutes of the day I put attention into my work.

now I'm going to be heading back to full-time study in the coming months, I get anxious as the pressure of a Bachelor level degree, and the pressure it takes me to perform, is enough to break me down. I've been advised it might be wise to start light (like a basic vet style diploma) and then build up, which is logical, but I keep thinking I'm meant to be doing my thesis by now. which is the kind of pressure one gets as a kid who is told repeatedly, "your intelligence is exceedingly the average and you can do ANYTHING you want"

I wanted to be an astronaut, a storm chaser, and an architect, a town planner and then a journalist. I always held to being a "FBI agent" or spy (I wonder why). so when I found psychology is really a blend of all these things, I kinda found a niche in a psych and social science double degree. but I'm thinking my academic career is LIFELONG, and due to the fact I also want to work in my field alongside my many written thesis coming, I'll be in academics for a long time. I may fail a few things, which I have to come to terms with. I do not fail easily, or readily, but I'm a perfectionist type-a academic who will put my whole life on the line to achieve "merit". I get exams, I get assessments, I read journals super-easy, I talk the talk and walk the walk so well psychologists who are at masters level compliment me on my "knowledge".

when it comes to mental health and trauma, I will always have the personal attachment, called lived experience, which will make failure and burnout, 100 percent realistic. I have to boundary up, bootstraps on, and prepare that yes, my personal "bias" will probably be entwined in this.

which is why I'm looking at the social science for the statistics and thesis writing side of things, and the counselling for the trained therapist side. either way, the degree of counselling requires so much self-insight, and then the social-science will back me away from personifying it. the other choice is criminology, which leads to forensic psychology, which is eternally fascinating. my main concern is the pro-pedophile content Ill be up against, which will look at the anatomy of a shoplifter akin to the devil, and leave the pedophile in the DSM-5 dx "paraphilia" box.

I'm not joining or jumping to anything.

either way I've got 2 year of credit, a heap of pathways and a lot of "academic momentum" from all my life being aimed to be "academic powerhouse". I went through my files and found a lot of awards I'd won in my high school, and top place in the competitions we would be entering in. I remember feeling so sad if I had a "credit" vs a distinction or high distinction, only to see now, a credit in university maths in year 9 is a skillset I don't have anymore so, good on me. or a credit in English, or Science at that age was pretty impressive, considering these tests were random and not studied for.

just a general skills assessment only the top 30 kids in the year were to take on a year by year basis and put out to vet from the top universities and taken by other kids in the same grade around the state.

it puts so much focus on my intelligence, because it's primed to be that way, I know that is true. I know I feel good being academically successful and it gives me a feeling of "achievement" but is it really for me?

I also found 2 letters from my local politicians offering me job placement, work experience and I was 1/4 kids in my 10th grade graduation tom get the letter, and due to my behaviour I pissed ALL the idiots who bullied me off. I was "too pretty to be a nerd" "too smart to be pOpUlAr".

so I made a group of misfits, who are all highly intelligent, creative and my group had the ONLY gay male in the school AND THIS IS BEFORE YOU FUCKING RETARDS MADE IT "COOL". he was bullied badly, so fuck you, you fucks claim "liberalism" but I bet you were the type of idiot who bullied guys like him in high school while you pretended to like my chemical romance and fake cut yourselves. I hate you all, forever.

my grade was full of idiots who were fake emo, who left the scene the moment the scene changed to dub-step and club music. I was there, watching you all, like sonny Moore, went from FFTL to that dubstep skrillex shit he started in 2009.

I dated you, hooked up with you and I went to your gigs. I know who was real and who was fake. I met some of you years later and realised the more emotive ones were the less "alternative appearing".

I can say 1/10000 emo guys from the 00s were genuinely Into the music and scene for the right reasons based on my dating history and this can and will be analysed statistically using SPSS one day to prove a lot. I've had too many relationships from each sub-culture and I have had 4-11 males at a time per public "output" of my energy pursue me over life.

I'm not being cocky when I say I have a long line of "suitors" and its banked back about 50 men. it's been a thing I've avoided as it seems to grow based on my body shape, attitude, appearance, so I am currently out of touch with dating scenes, no interest to try that ANYWAY, given the fact that I have had so many LONG TERM relationships ANYWAY. I can't see another one going well, and at this case, I'm living with an ex but we never went on conventional and now our families label this 3 things: "asexual", "polyamorous" and "open relationship". I'm also "bisexual" but this all to humans outside, looks ridiculous on paper. (wild orgies and lots of swinging or some stupid sex magick probably is what J brother literally thinks we do).

bc humans are intrinsically designed to need to label things they don't understand. we share a lease, not a relationship, and fucking polyamorous, I WISH. there are no girl-girl-guy 3 some, or orgies, or sex magic parties.

this has changed the attitude and perception of this "relation' which Is non-romantic, non-sexual. he can date and likely, will, as can I , and I likely won't date.

I would say 14/15 have had ADHD, or other mental illness and or trauma. which means to me, nothing at all.

I think this "open book" non romantic relationship style of "friends and roommates" not sexual.

attachment is misunderstood by others but works well fro my adhd, meaning I'm not expected to marry, or be a wife in any capacity. he is free to do what he wants, as I am, and open communication is a novel frontier I brought into this in the start, and stayed with for the duration. we fight, but I fight with a lot of people in my life over many petty things. also down to my adhd, I believe, I have rejection sensitive dysphoria, which makes me hypersensitive to rejection, perceived or real.

im not sure if this is trauma or adhd or both. but

I have used sexuality as a weapon in many relationships but it cannot or will not be used here, so I have had to resort to uncovering parts of myself which I never knew, which will stay with me even if he decided to marry and wife up in 5 years, which I'm okay and expecting him to do, and I would much rather that then be trapped in a situation where I cannot be that "wife/mother archetype" as I'm too "femme fatal/other-woman/sex-laced seductress and siren" a "FWB, unicorn, drug buddy, hook-up where im a therapist" or "intellectual and cognitive mind-bender work-study obsessed woman".

both at once and many types of human, including one who is a full-time ceremonial magician of 7 years. I will drink, drug, fuck, fight like males and still be more feminine and high maintenance than 89% of women. I grew up a tomboy and don't mind getting into fun, adventure based situations, like hiking, or anything adrenaline, I would only be reluctant to eat weird shit.

I also have many "neurological" issues including ADHD, and trauma which causes a rupture in the average human and I dating.

I'll tell you how many men have said "you are the unicorn" and then realised what that means, I went as far as canvasing the PUA world back in 2014 after reading the game, a book on PUA, which is essentially, pick up artistry, based on NLP and hypnosis. I did this after reading the copy my ex in 2008 handed me before we dated saying "I gave this up for you". it took me years to open the book, buy when I did I truly believed the only way I would fall in love again, was through PUA. that failed in so many ways but gave me a training foundation for men who were candidates for that, I have trained up J, and the way that sounds is BAD. I know, but I got a lot of value myself, I just don't see it how I wanted to see it.

but that was my original intent, and I achieved this he knows that, knew it was happening and evolved for the best self.

I am thinking we can modulate this into a business model for how I was operating in the BDSM world was mainly psychological, not physical.

I get told all of is incredibly intimidating (I am told) to women and men.

I don't really care anymore, because people have always seen this part of me in the wrong way ANYWAY, but I own who I am NOW. which is what I needed ANYWAY. so it cannot be stolen again, and sexual healing has come from abstinence ironically.

I also don't care what or who is trying to tear up my relations, toxic or not toxic, all people around me will be on a healing journey by default, or cut out of my life, for I am radiating that energy so brightly its impossible NOT to feel that pull.

I will drag your shadows into the light, and make your secrets spin from your lips into my consciousness. its not what I do but its what is design.

I make your weaknesses mountains to climb over. you cannot hide from these in my presence, I won't be this controlling or obsessive female who wants 24-7 attention as I have a life full of meaning without love or sex. I don't want to be wined, dined or expensively gifted, unless specially requested.

I don't want love letters or romantic declarations, this isn't some femnazi bullshit, but it triggers me. I appreciate the efforts and won't make you feel bad about your insecurities, for mine are probably 30 x more pronounced.

I appreciate small things, that most males won't or don't know how to do. like remembering things I've said and being thoughtful. or knowing my silence isn't personal, or a game, but a protective wall. I've had songs sung too me, guitars played, songs written, or things made in ways that are heartfelt. but I've always had them used against me too. so it is the context. I value time, energy, conversations of depth and reciprocal exchange. I also value trauma understanding, my alters and fragments being accepted and valued as me as a whole and a person who is not afraid, or scared of stupid stuff like sensitivity, emotions, feelings as raw as my own. men feel intensely too, lol.

but will only give oral sex 100 times before I don't recieve it, I can communicate now so that wouldn't happen.

but I won't be a bitch about this stuff. I am extremely feminine and care in ways other people, do not, I forget nothing people tell me, so it can be a reward or reverse uno card pull in a fight, but I am not evil or deviant in my relations. I react, depending on how you treat me. I don't need your money, or providing source of income to be okay as I am my own queen, however sharing resources is okay to build something. I don't need to be seduced, but will need to be shown a person is trustworthy.

few cross that.

that will always be time-endurance and testing. there are ground rules I don't play with, or play games. or like being forced or forged into something I'm not. I know abusive and I know safe, and I am a psychology expert, trained psychotherapist and study humans for fun, so I'll always be analysing things.

and I know red flags and I know ego, I know how to placate and please and pleasure, but will only do so, for a bigger and better reason than the mere act of seduction. which is without value and transactional to someone like me, I won't lie.

and I know every tactic in the book, for the book was written by someone like me, many lives ago, and my karma is being burnt for that book.

in terms of walls, I have many, may it be called a maze. or labrnyth.

I will teach you things you never thought you'd know, and change your life in ways you won't ever be able to go back to before. I will blow your mind, sexually, emotionally, intellectually, on all levels, and I'll make your friends and family love me.

I'll bring your walls down and you won't be able to understand this, because you don't understand me, and thats ok.

but I'll always understanding you and make your life better because thats what I do anyway, and people talk to me about things I will never share, as I keep secrets. I am jealous, of everything but, only because I am attached in a disorganised way, and working on that.(I won't even mention how man women or men don't know basic psychology of themselves). I also am a therapist , for my friends and family too.i should not be , but I am. I care, I listen, If you think I'm not listening, I'm still listening. sometimes I interrupt, because I have ADHD and I am horrible at resolute planning, or being "normal". but I don't want to be normal anyway. I need you to recognise and understand my shit, for that is what I do for everyone in my life, and I have helped more than I receive.

I'll probably accidentally give you therapy, but thats fine, because you will uncover your depths and find meaning in this. it's not something that goes bad unless you are fundamentally, evil, even the most abusive relationship I was in, was benefited from this process. yes he's still narcissistic, but he is self-aware. and did I benefit, never, just know the anatomy of self-proclaimed narc and I still can't hate him. will get my civil claim one day.

I will fuck your mind without meaning too. but thats because I fuck my own mind. but the meaning is made in the man- some find this highly offensive or personal (its not). I fuck minds by my own overthinking, or over perception on many levels of reality. so join the ride, or don't come along at all. because once the rollercoaster is in motion, I have no control of what may or may not happen. it's purely experimental.

I am experimental.

and the women who are judging me, are not any better.

look within, and shut the fuck up. self-improve and quit this jealous divide and conquer bitchiness. I HATE gossip, bitches, snitches and fakers.

I look to other women who are intellectually, physically and spiritually "individual". and find value in superior status to my own, which is something my narcissistic ex taught me.

I look for mentors, and teachers and people who will teach me how to improve myself, which I am fearful to reconnect after something is amazing and I can't give anything back of positive value. I am sorry I am working on that.

I won't devalue those below me, but I also need to be mutually benefiting from a relationship.

I dont drag people down, I may disappear if I feel I am doing this by mistake. I am flakey as fuck, and sorry for that. its anxiety and lack of perfectionism, so I am wrong and bad for this. I can change. will change.

if you can find value with my relation, personal professional or romantic, we can move into a symbiotic beneficial agreement based on mutual "terms". but many won't or cannot see this, nor do I impose my bullshit into the lives of randoms at this age.

I don't care if this is cruel, it's real.

I value loyalty, compassion, self-insight/awareness, someone who understands all parts-spirituality, metaphysics while still having intellectual & logical & analytical brain-sight.

I enjoy music, magick and learning new things.

I do not care about appearances I dont think ive dated based on one time. I do value connections and chemistry which is far-few between, I hate fakers. I smell insincerity miles away. but I do respect women who are well-presented, or beautiful, with hair beauty and makeup, I can't do this shit well, so I look up to those who are in professions who do it like art. I find them to be genius level queens who scare me.

I call out bad behaviour and make people uncomfortable if they are repressed. I will change you without even meaning too, I don't even need to date you. its just my presence, over time, amplified by the intensity of the dynamics.

I don't want simplicity, but I also don't need over complexity.

I value passion, independence, creativity, curiosity, problem-solving, deep-disscussions, shared adventures and some occasional risk-taking (lol), sensuality and sexuality for a common cause beyond physical pleasure. I like being taught but not micromanaged. I need my own independence, and need to be trusted with that. I hate being scolded for that like a child, or being pushed to change my ways to conform to societal values. which I will push back and refuse to do. which is not healthy. I don't adult like many others do, but I try to proceed in other ways. and learn to adult like normal people, accept me.

I also value myself, and how I can be celebrated, enhanced and improved vs. the opposite.

I give space, and have boundaries, and understand human psychology, sexuality and relationships in ways few others unless they are trained, can do.

I value MY time. so you can have space to value YOURS. I dont need to be in anyones pocket for a long time. I love being alone, and being around people who are stimulating, but draining people will be drained out of my life quicker than I intend. I am sorry for the people who felt I disappeared, when I was only trying to be 'fair', if I feel I'm a bad influence, I will work on myself until I'm not. I'm still working on it.

I also use this psychology awareness, to enhance communication, connection. you may or may not become an accidental guinea pig. I will be upfront that I am experimental, but that is part of the buy ticket and take the ride. lets work together. not apart.

I am coming from a place of love, and love is what I feel for my animals, which you will be adopting as children.which I want to stop experiments being done on. I love love, in all ways, but hate cruelty of animals and children, violence and suffering. I dont advocate justice, because I find life is fucking cruel, unfair and unjust. by default, so I focus on myself. what can be changed, and what I am able to do in my own locus on control. I will always find myself drawn to the outsiders, the misfits, the vagabonds, the misunderstood. I want to help people who are society, or socially, disadvantaged by trauma and mental illness, but only when I have ability to help myself.

it's a journey.

I will not date anyone who is cruel to animals, outside of specify magical sacrifice, there is not any place for that. nor will I date or fraternise with anything or anyone linked or associated with pedophilia. I won't judge anyone on anything that are outside animal cruelty and pedophilia. I don't and haven't. I keep on good terms with every ex, bar 1 whom I only apologised too this year. it felt good to do that. I change my behaviour.

I am open, but also highly attuned to both logical, factual, empirical , scientific worlds, and spiritual, intuitive, psychic and the "collective unconscious". I walk in both these realms, and I am "conventionally attractive". which puts a lot of pressure on me, to be "stupid". I am always dumbing myself down to fit into normality, but I look ridiculous if I do that so I peacock my intellect.

only to be misconceived.

I give up because I no longer care how anyone but MYSELF can see ME. I won't dumb myself down , but I can enhance you UP. prepare yourself for graded education, evolution and self-growth on mass scales.sorry not sorry.

that sucks for the people who want to be living vicariously through me, for making up to lost trauma years, for family who sold me out for the success I'd bring home, or fake trauma enmeshed friends, or whatever they want or need from me. I value my time and energy, and have given that in abundance, and if you want to be with nut only "one part of me that is alters". I can't provide that now. not sorry.

I have to work on something or not be in a dynamic at all.

I no longer can switch on demand to adapt for you, it will not be effective and that upsets a lot of people. especially now I'm sober. harder to handle this, as I see the world for its ways and why it is, more vividly. I haven't had alcohol for almost 2 months, although, I could drink, I haven't.

I can't do it, anymore. it, being, faking, my selves fronting to impress. I can't. I have no more left to give, and I'm expected by everyone to be a way I can't do it in the way they want.

I will go to another year long outpatient DBT, followed by 10 weeks of A-C-T therapy, and however many ECT OR TMS may or may not help. I'm told it won't (ect) work. but TMS, is something I am open too. but I am telling you, none of this psychotherapy, that will be based on dbt skills, day therapy, intensive skills training, recommencing my studying, and resuming "life worth living" will or can wipe the traumas I've "recovered" memories for.

I will also shut the fuck up, and tell nobody about this if you leave me alone, I told that to my family, and this is open letter to the watchers, stalkers and perps who read this openly as I track the hits on here and have 200+ visits a day every day for the last month. globally. no idea how or who you are but I think its the same people who called the police for the "ayreon song lyrics" seen to be a suicide not last October.

thanks for that wake up call, I have shut the fuck up, since December, more so now. I will burn the journals, or lock them up.

my recovery is not linear, not yet fully integrated and I trust nobody so I don't think my psychotherapy will be deep, I focus on things like ADHD AND my EDNOS. and dbt skills. I won't be talking about sexual traumas.

enjoy the update, and thanks for the "attention".

I have my goals, my work, my meaning and what my life should and could and will look like, but I will not share that with anyone. that means everyone right now.

I've been tested, traumatised and terrorised to the point of not-tolerant of anyone who may bring that back, and banish the fuck out of my sphere every moment I need.

take me as I am, or watch me as I go, which I will go, where I am not wanted I will remove myself, but I will find where I am celebrated because I create that.

I will rise up against all adversity every time but that is survival and that created a resilient and brave woman, in me. who will not be destroyed or decomposed by humans who are fundamentally fucking evil.

I gift you my truth, in progression, and give up the pain of the past.

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aaronexplainsitall · 6 years

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what (who) is Mks?? (I swear i googled but it came up with a productivity solutions firm rip in peace)

Ah, to tell the story of MKS, I must tell the story of the band of legend, the Sugababes. Are you sitting comfortably children? Good, then I’ll begin.

Once upon a time, in a magical land named ‘Britain’, there was a mythical band, born of legend, known as the Spice Girls. Together, they conquered the world, bringing girl power back to a dire pop landscape filled with moody American boy bands and turgid R&B. They were on a quest to spread the message of girl power and pop music far and wide, and to everyone’s shock and awe, they were successful!

But then, one fateful day, their kingdom began to crumble around them and they went their separate ways to pursue far less inspiring and interesting solo careers (except Geri because Scream if You Wanna Go Faster is a bop you can @ me if you disagree you’re wrong). A dark cloud fell over pop music and for 100 days and 100 nights the kingdom of Britain descended into the coldest winter it has ever known.

Then, the evil men in the record companies hatched a dastardly plan. What if, they wondered, another band could rise up to take the infamous Spice Girls’ place? What if, they continued, we threw away everything that made the Spice Girls wonderful, and unique, and although they were manufactured actually quite organic in a way if you really stop and think about what organic even means in the context of pop music? What if, they squealed, we could RECREATE the Spice Girls with music that wasn’t as good and girls who weren’t as inspiring, FOR MONEY?

They all wet themselves in unison when they thought of all the money they’d make.

And so a new generation of girl bands rose from the ashes of the Spice Girls. Some were Genuinely Fantastic (Girls Aloud), some were Pretty Abysmal (B*Witched), some were So Terrible They Were Actually Quite Enjoyable (Atomic Kitten). But none were quite like the Sugababes.

Three working class girls, Mutya, Keisha and Siobhan, were walking home from school one day when they stumbled into a deep, dark recording studio owned by nefarious sea witch Ron Tom. “Come, my pretties,” croaked Ron Tom, “I will make you rich and famous and beyond your wildest dreams!” “Um, cool?” said the girls in unison, “we’d sort of rather just sing though, because we’re all quite good at it?” Ron Tom laughed, and laughed, and laughed. What a funny joke, he thought.

The three girls became known as the Sugababes, because originality wasn’t important to Ron Tom or the sea witch overlords at London Records, and to everyone’s Shock! And Surprise! they released a Really Very Good Indeed first album. However, because the general public are largely morons, they sold roughly 17 copies of their RVGI first album. The sea witch and his overlords were most displeased.

Meanwhile, the Sugababes had bigger problems. Fighting! Arguing! Chaos! Like so many bands before them, they had fallen prey to the cancer which rips through pop groups… Infighting. No one really knows what went on behind the closed doors of Ron Tom’s ocean cavern, but legend says that the youngest Sugababe, Keisha, bullied the whitest Sugababe, Siobhan, so viciously that she escaped the ocean cavern by crawling out of a window (that bit apparently actually did happen you can look it up not the ocean cavern mind you but the window).

The sea witch overlords were most displeased and they dropped the Sugababes.

But! A shining ray of hope at the end of the tunnel appeared! Atlantic Records swept ashore a new contract and a brand new member, Heidi! Heidi was perfect, the slightly less withered sea witch overlords at Atlanic Records promised! She had been in ATOMIC KITTEN, they gushed! She would make you LIKEABLE, the cried! WHAT IS THE POINT IN LIVING IF PEOPLE DON’T LIKE YOU, they screeched, their masks falling slightly and their sea witch overlord noses poking out!

And so for four blissful years, the Sugababes ruled British pop. They sold a lot more than 17 copies of their next three albums, each one going double platinum, and scoring 5 number one singles. They had made POP MUSIC, they sea overlords cackled, that GROWN UPS AND CHILDREN could listen to. They wet themselves again, because of how much money they were making.

But the Sugababes were Unhappy. Rumours of infighting, bullying, ferocious arguments about Britney Spears’ Toxic (you can look that up too that’s true as well) followed them wherever they went, and they were branded moody, miserable, nasty, mean girls. How awful, cried the British press, festering in pools of their own shit, that women would not be instantly likeable? IT SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED, they howled, shit filling their mouths.

So the Sugababes were dogged by bad press and quite possibly the fact that they actually didn’t really like each other because okay they were quite different people all things considered, and eventually, after the birth of her first child, Mutya left the band.

Darkness fell across the kingdom once again. What would the sea witch overlords do now? Their pot of gold appeared to be washing out to sea, and who, oh who, would bring it back to them.

Until a second dastardly plan was hatched. Why not, wondered the sea witch overlords, just replace her? It worked once? Beyoncé did it 412 times with her back up dancers in Destiny’s Child? We couldn’t get away with it… they wondered… could we? They did. Amelle was introduced to the band, and in a strange twist of fate, she was exactly like Mutya, only not quite as good, but really who was paying attention anyway?

And for another four years, the Sugababes trundled along, not quite as magical as they once were, but equally commercially successful, so WHO CARED? They pocketed more number one singles and platinum albums, made more money, faced more press scrutiny for supposedly not being perfect little ladies who always smiled and curtsied, business continued as usual.

But before our Babes of Suga could count their considerable number of coins, a new evil appeared on the horizon… infamous shit monger, Jay-Z, and his band of cretins, Roc Nation. Like so many before and after them, the Sugababes were seduced by the bright lights and empty promises of Roc Nation. “I’ll make you a star!” cried Jay-Z, stroking Becky’s good hair. “I’ll make your wildest dreams come true!” The babes were seduced.

And so Roc Nation and Jay-Z set to work stripping away everything that made the Sugababes unique and interesting and replacing it with literal festering garbage produced by RedOne, who by now it was known, wasn’t actually an interesting musician but had been bolstered by the considerable talent of Lady Gaga and got the credit for Just Dance, Poker Face and Bad Romance because he was a Man and she was a Woman, so he had to be the brains of the operation, right?

The Sugababes became a national laughing stock, and their ‘comeback’ single, the appropriately awfully titled Get Sexy, was ridiculed far and wide across the land of Great Britain. The British press rolled around in their own shit laughing uproariously. “Ha, ha, ha!” the cried, “How we love to tear women down!” their own shit caked in their own hair.

But a worse disaster would surely fall upon our Sugababes. Amidst the critical disaster of their new material, two of the Babes were scheming and plotting against the other, whom the goblins at Roc Nation were said to have favoured over the two other bitter and forgotten members of the group. Amelle and Heidi launched a plan, a dastardly, dastardly plan to oust the only remaining founding member of the band and seize the glory for themselves.

They crept quietly into the sea witch’s cave.

They tiptoed silently up the cracked stone steps.

They shuffled noiselessly across to the sleeping sea witch.

They whispered breathlessly into his ear.

“Oh sea witch, we’ve been so sad,” they intoned, “The nasty girl has been so bad. Send her away, sea witch,” they begged.

The sea witch woke with a start, and immediately set to work carrying out the wishes of Bitter Babes because he didn’t have the foresight to imagine what a monumental cock-up that would turn out to be, despite literally every other person who worked in the industry at the time saying, “hmm, maybe don’t do that, because she’s the last founding member of the group and the shit gremlins from The Sun and The Daily Mail might just assassinate you?”

But listen he did not, and Keisha had been sent away in a cloud of shame and dishonour. The shit gremlins at The Sun and The Daily Mail (and even the slightly less shit-covered gremlins at publications like The Guardian, which was quite interesting really, because who’d have thought The Guardian would care about this really?) stayed true to form, and fired off their canons of diarrhoea in the direction of the sea witch’s cavern.

Keisha was replaced by someone who’s name I genuinely can’t remember and that should tell you all you need to know about her, and the kingdom of the Sugababes crumbled in a heap of total and utter misery and mediocrity. Their final album, released without Keisha, received such rave reviews as “bland, soulless, and repetitive”, and the Roc Nation goblins promptly dropped the band on their shiny behinds.

The nation of Great Britain wept. In the streets, the children screamed. The profits cried, and the poets dreamed. Not a work was spoken, the church bells all were broken. Who would save us from this misery? Who would restore peace to our land?

Three long, dark years passed. Years characterised by no joy, no laughter, no love.

But then, just as the land had given up hope, and collectively lay down to die, on the New Year’s Eve of 2013, a miracle happened. In a tiny club in Central London, three young women took to the stage for the first time in 12 years, with one simple mission. To save pop music.

Mutya.

Keisha.

Siobhan.

The original Sugababes (now called MKS for a variety of legal reasons but of course they branded it as the desire for a fresh start and no one really argued because WHO CARED THEY WERE BACK) had reformed. Ne’er a brighter day had shone across our fair land. They grass grew back, the trees blossomed, our winter of discontent had ended.

They toured, performing Sugababes songs both old and new, taking a fresh control of their legacy and promising the nation that they’d be remembered not as the band who kept splitting up, but the band who GOT BACK TOGETHER! OH HAPPY DAY! That summer the three young women released the finest pop song known to man, ‘Flatline’, ahead of their sure-to-be unstoppable return album. Nothing could go wrong, nothing stood in their way now, the saviours of pop music had arrived in the world’s unlikeliest trio! Anything felt POSSIBLE!

and then they split up again without releasing the album because no one bought the fucking single the end

#This took me an hour to write #I need a life #ASAP #sugababes #MKS #pop music

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lifeofthefly-blog1 · 6 years

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A Better World Is Possible

PunkerslutA Better nature Is PossiblePolitics Articles | June 29, 2005It regards reality as the lone enemy and as the source of all suffering, with which it is impossible to live, so that one must break off all relations with it if one is to be in several way happy. The misanthrope turns his back on the nature and will have no truck with it. But one can do more than that; one jar try to recreate the world, to build ascend in its stead something else world in which endemic most oppressive features are eliminated and replaced by others that are in conformity with one's endemic wishes.-- Sigmund Freud "Civilization and individual Discontents," by Sigmund Freud, chapter 2If a bearing that harbor love and affectionately adored honesty were to spawn two gods, they would be sadness and optimism. The premier gave them the appearance and sight to comprehend what is wrong, after holding single-minded to prejudice and bigotry. The twin gave them the energy and capacity to create a better world, smooth if it started and ended with one transferred soul. climactic bible of this generation, the holy text and scripture which they would refer to in their daily lives, would repose of dialogue free movies the particular two gods. Pessimism invariably seemed to represent apathy, a impression of inactivity accompanied by lost dreams. But, next again, it was the agitator, the creator, the mover. Optimism would repeatedly seem to represent enterprise and growth, a impression of soul and a desire to do something about it, as great as easts and pleasure. This origination of admirer and brain would ritual these demon through acts of kindness, mercy, and love. The names they would grant their toddler would have hidden meanings, like "romantic poet," or "moment of orgasm."If a good person were to try to live up to the expectation of change and growth with the audacious honesty to look forward, he would be a cynic as much as an optimist. His hallowed scripture would simply be: "A Better World prevail Possible."When we look simultaneous our endemic society, scrutinize its process and owned manners, we discover a great transaction that we wish to change. privately see crime, we look poverty, we see poison addictions, murder, war, calm abuse, adolescent abuse, rape, theft, brutality, and exploitation of without exception power. these of the humane style have constantly believed that it was the generosity of men that transfer them stable for peace and strength. Today, we stand on the carrion of modern life. attractiveness may have been the social sentiment which enjoy brought Columbia together and has develop our families, our towns, our cities, and our nations, but there is so abundant more to it then that. downtown have convert the colony of carnality and misery, the splendid strangers to loneliness. Our modern writer and romantics stand ahead this sensation of life, and are speechless.When we think of pain and suffering, what do you think it is that is the most sinister source of suffering? skilled is no doubt that it is from any relationship within society, or at bottom within human civilization. maybe it is the biased social relationship between father and women, resulting in sexism and domestic abuse? Perhaps it is the unjust marriage that live between nations, resulting in economic embargos and wars? Maybe it is the relationship between citizens, suggest crime and theft, or the relationship between executive and employee, resulting in poverty and misery? Whatever it is that is the enormous cause of suffering in the world, there are some effects that requirement be considered. First, we are inspect the exchange that live between one by one other to discover the roots of this suffering. It is an constitutional problem. attractiveness is not a question of innate disasters and the energy that nature has wrought on mankind. No, it is a question of the means that we act with ourselves, the customs we forge anad the guideline we make. Second, as Freethinkers and those actually concerned with justice, although we study these communication in society, we end so with the firm of devise a further free and more equitable system.The needed difference new between an Anarchist and a Liberal is this: the Liberal wants to repair the damage ended by the system, the Anarchist longing to rehabilitation the system. The first looks to poverty and creates welfare, completely leaving the monetary system untouched. The last wants to completely revoke any fiscal system that will advantage to homelessness, poverty, or misery.It was not unusual or singular in our past for these social relationships to change, convert altered, or become perfectly abolished. interest was formerly tradition that men thrill women like property, that wars inserted nations were glorious events, that poverty was gouts naturally hand out condition for a assertive class of people, that crime was simply supporting nature to each human, and therefore indefeatable. gross of this was hold by the people, they took it in as unquestionable truths. Well, it was the liberating maturity of either honest individual, to realize that every conscious person simply wish to be free. From such a humble start, the development of cordial thought has come a long way. Citizens have collectively allocated women's rights, worker's rights, children's rights, citizen's rights, etc., etc., protecting the freedom, security, and joy of these who have been distressed for so long.Do you think the happiness of the mediocre person, from these ancient times to our instant situation, enjoy increased? I imagine that few would disagree with me. It was by altering and changing the above-mentioned relationships halfway the peculiar groups that a better, more peaceful terms of living move about. So, when we decide to examine the social manners and communication of our own era, and unearth such large amounts of suffering, the only reasonable response to these locality is this: we prerequisite reorganize society, change the relationships, rehabilitation (or revolutionize) the scheme itself, previously we will stop regarding the illness that it causes. What we would be performance would be a rebel activity, in that we would be altering our own earth to attain our inherent ends, in the better radical form possible. allure would also be the tradition of spirited ability to overthrow oppressors and cast slim any string or thralldom they have given to the innocent.Our questions precondition be twofold. 1) What are the relationships that are precipitate so much stress, misery, pain, and suffering on others? 2) What jar we execute to advance them?Crime. What causes it? Any literate person will give the same answer: the wish or use of earthly objects. whenever the compensation offered by employers execute not gratify the demand of the workers, that is to say, the people who have no property, suddenly criminal enterprise becomes the result. Psychologists and psychiatrists might fling to organize criminal behavior, trying to put confines and streak through it so that they can understand it. The one thing that they do not recognize about scandalous behavior is that it is not unique, that it is not special, that it is as it may be the largest natural sector of brute life. If a creator bear is interested in obtaining cuisine for endemic young, complete it forever consider the fact that it is violating intrusion laws in doing so, or does it consistently consider the opinion of other bears? Maybe isolated insomuch as it thing her and her cub's welfare, but beyond that, not at all. affecting creature is simply committing an action that is required for life. So, too, is the individual who violate crime to survive, meanwhile no normal means of income will suffice.The shrink might be right that the scholar changes fairly with scandalous behavior. modern instincts, behaviors, reflexes, and understandings are required in group behavior. All of the shoplifters that I know, counting myself, have developed group senses -- we develop a subconscious that analyzes and recognize where anybody in the room is and where they are looking. aforementioned allows Land of Liberty the facility of alert if we are living watched, an invaluable skill for New World lifters.Without poverty, there is no crime. Crime is caused individual by the poor circumstances in which human living live, and their critical attempts to escape the particular conditions. through least, this can be considered genuine with all those conditions in which property violation is involved. We wish to promote a system, an form of society, in which crime is completely eliminated. That is our objective. What form would we mend or forge the current rule so as to exhaustive our objective? Well, although we eye at the particular who have been expose with the miserable career of criminal, what dashing in specific are we examining? The working class. Their marriage that transfer them to poverty and eventually felony is the their accord with the Capitalist class, or the employer class.The only way to sew this relationship, between the haves and the have nots, is to produce it so the product of it is other wealth in the canned of the have nots. This bottle be exhausted with a policy so limited and conservative as minimum wage, minimum working hours, safe working conditions, lowering the work opportunity per week, etc., etc.. All of these laws, if they were be implemented within a government's laws, should be occupying on the collective's perceptive that the working guy must be protected -- not from other working men, but from the particular whom they work for. With these limited policies, the company class would be scrutinize much like the government: a unavoidable evil, beyond which we would have tranquility and peace, at least for a meager while.In a more anxious effort, we might knock out the executive class entirely, dissolve it into the working body of citizens. It receive been aforesaid that to establish Democracy, every settler must be treated alike a king. If we apply the same argument to economics, in an effort to eliminate the poverty that comes from Free Trade, then without exception citizen must be consider like a Capitalist. proving this system, the sound conflict that would arrise in a Capitalist scheme -- with workers boxing for continuing wages and the company class militant for worsened sweat shop conditions -- this sound conflict would be removed, and commodity called socialism or Leninism would revenue effect. comic relationship that causes poverty, misery, and so great abuse of the spirit is the relationship that exists among those outwardly property, who must sell their energy to survive, and the particular with property, who engage the proletariat to task for them. To oust this relationship, thus eliminating the conflict, we are establishing a better world. Among the most great revolutions, Bolshevism and totalitarianism are of the capital degree for any revolutionary.When we essay to feel of the relationships in society that allow for a big deal of unnecessary misfortune and misery, we gravitate to think about the relationships that exist inserted us and those that we appreciation and distress about. fly literature of every fashion and without exception era, we find that adultery acquire been at the cause of heartache for so many lovers. It enjoy been the inspiration to a number of sad poetry. attractiveness has prevail the element of so much conflict, so scads fighting, so much bickering and violence. I grant that a little cultures were intelligent and thoughtful adequate to sidestep such impractical brutality and misery. However, as we see it in our modern world, it is quite straightforward to recognize that the relationship that exists among lovers is one of great distress and pain. We are attracted to it by the thought of happiness, pleasure, a feeling of connection and mutual understanding. The provenance of intimate relationships are the clone in whatever culture: they come from the greater natural desire to aura love, as though the universe put up end and all a lover bottle do would be to welcome it.Yet, we watch so much abuse appear from this relationship that exists amid lovers. dramaturgic time for a late moral cryptograph is necessary. The past has consistently been ripe. I submit that admirer learn to love further openly, that their communication are not confined to one customer only -- what in fact receive been the cause of all these problems. conceding that sexual movement with other partners was accepted in our stylish society, formerly the dilemma of the lonely and disheartened sweetheart disappears. meanwhile we enroll to take that distribution sexuality with others is a clear aspect of life, in that it creates affection, something beautiful, and a connection -- when we learn to accept this, then so much misery, pain, and depression would be mop out. But, the dilemma of the matter is in dynamic ourselves, in learning to accept that you cannot tell one what to do with their bodies, even in a relationship. I'm not evading a double standard. Men should be as promiscuous as they like, as should any woman. It can be problematic and great for woman to defeated these cordial prejudices. privately wince each one time the thought of a abandoned lover move to mind, and we are forewarned of the pain that comes from a deceased passion. our own selves do not forget the misery that we have suffered, that others have, that residue still will, and it is our intention as revolutionaries to uphold our scripture: a better earth is possible.There are so many origins of pain and so many new great resolve and variation that put up happen in our current society to abolish the sources of misery. affecting animals of the earth are liquidate for the taste of their dissolve carcasses. premier and dictator switch house constantly as I treasure more and more crowd confused at the constitutional situation. essay are taboo at the same juncture courts precedent guilt by association is "reason to convict." guy and mariner are heaved in penitentiary when they make the personal judgment to make drunk themselves, and gain a gentle happiness via counterfeit means. slave slave away at work, hours of their get-up-and-go taken off with delusion crumbling and sinking.I want to detonate when I see the walls of chain convenience stores and rip away the dreariness of a "brick behind brick" architecture. In my dreams, I am catching enormous cask of makeup to prepare child-like depiction of clouds on the side of every Walmart. I hankering to house a paper-mache rose on the rung of each one girl who feels alone, give a confident conversation to without exception boy who feels alone. I want to shriek for whole rape. I want to die for every resurfaced memory. I want family to uncertainty less backward death, and think also about their life as a unique and fascinating experience. I want community to stress less back life, and concentrate on the sector of contemporary that accord a reaction of ease. Everywhere that I turn, every statement of the strangers I talk to, they are based on so copious petty things. I want swing my arms and lose sympathetic of my consciousness, and... let go... I requirement to give go... furthermore maybe find a little peace, a little understanding, a slight "the marvelous part of life is that nation can be called the collective training of each one living and breathing creature," maybe in the bossom of intoxication.www.punkerslut.comFor Life,Punkerslut Article Tags: superior World, Relationship Between, Exists Between, vicious Behavior, Employer Class Punkerslut (or any Carloff) receive been writing essays and poetry on social argument which have caught his attention for several years. His website www.punkerslut.com contribute a complete list of all of these writings. His soul experience includes homelessness, squating in unusual Orleans and LA, dropping out of high school, getting expelled from alma mater for "subversive activities," and a infinite of auxiliary revolutionary actions.

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trendingnewsb · 6 years

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The Sad Reality Of A Christian Pick-Up Artist

This is the story of a man who raged against the vagina and lost. A man whose erection died a thousand deaths, until all it had left was its God. But at its core, it’s the redemption tale of a man who went from sex predator to sex predator for the Lord. If you have any holes on you, you already know who I’m talking about: pick-up artist and author Don Diebel.

It’s important to me that you know this is a real person, and not some wacky character I invented for an SNL audition. This man is an actual author who wrote real books. Here is how he appeared in the actual June 1990 issue of real publication Texas Monthly:

Coming into the 1980s, Don Diebel’s only personality trait was sex. Whether he was out on the town or at home coyly staring the panties off you from white overalls with no shirt or muscle tone, Don made every interaction into penetration. You may look at his picture and think, “This guy? He looks like a Before picture in an Out Traveler control shampoo ad.” Sick burn, but don’t be fooled. He waged a four-decade crusade against unfilled orifices. Planned Parenthood nurses would call him the Baba Yaga.

Don, a leading Texas pussy vagrant, started off with the noble goal of teaching others how to swindle strangers out of sex. It’s a cause that would consume and ultimately destroy him, but at the age 33, Don didn’t know any of this. He only knew two things, and both of them were titties. With his thick, wavy hair going prematurely white — a totally-worth-it side effect of mustache ride friction — he wrote his first book on the thing he thought he did best: How To Pick Up Women In Discos.

Unfortunately, Don wasn’t as great with language as he was with nipple play. He wrote like a man who spent elementary school crushing ass instead of learning sentence structure. He made love like a dream, but when he typed, his commas limply flopped into the wrong spots like a porn actor who lied on his resume. Don Diebel is first and foremost a lover, and not at all any kind of second thing. No publisher wanted his manuscript.

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To circumvent the literary world’s decency and taste, Don started his own publishing company. The newly founded Gemini Pub Co’s first book, How To Pick Up Women In Discos, became an instant critical and financial failure. What happened? Well, Don Diebel can only spell “pusy,” and he writes like eight of his fingers are trapped in a butt. Politics also played a part. It’s easy to forget that women in 1980 had to file taxes as “female livestock or lipstick storage equipment,” and they could still be arrested for removing the tuna from a Jell-O casserole recipe. Yet even during that era, Don’s book on “picking up” women was seen as sexist. So Diebel bounced back in 1982 with the more gently titled THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN. It was pretty much the same book.

Don still had issues with punctuation, grammar, and spelling, but you don’t buy a book like THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN because you have keen communication skills. You buy it because your swollen balls were in the bookstore shrieking, “Aargh! Try anything! Heeelp!” Here’s what’s crazy, though: This book is almost criminally wrong about how to approach women. Applying this book to your game is like adding anime rants and seven mouth sores to your game. If you’ve had sex fewer than 70 times, reading THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN legally restores your virginity. Let’s look at some excerpts (1982 first edition). All typos are Don’s.

The first chapter is mostly for fun. It describes the different types of women you’ll run into in the disco. Watch out for The Man-Hater! She’s a type of wildlife who only goes to singles bars to make mean faces at men asking for casual sex. You can skip most of this chapter, since if you use the techniques described in the book, you’ll find virtually all women fall into this category.

This section helps establish some of the rules for the ladies. If you make eye contact with Don Diebel, then great. Enjoy the moistest night of your life. And if you make the mistake of not accepting his penis, the least you could do is give honest but fair notes on what he and it could have done better.

Stay where you are, though, silent and alert. Don will have some questions and arguments, followed by several sexual offers of reduced intimacy, such as “handjob” or “eat your ass.” Wait for him to fully complete his exit interview before going home. If you do remain in the club, you tease, return to Don often, and a bit hornier if you don’t mind, for up to ten last chances. Don understands this can be inconvenient, but it’s what you signed up for when you brought a vagina with you outside.

So let me get this straight, Don. You spend your afternoons looking for the least interesting alcoholic in Houston’s Holiday Inn bars, and you’re willing to be slapped and humiliated for the desperate, minuscule chance to destroy an already sad person’s marriage. And after years of this, you think, “I should write an advice book to help others avoid this tragic life. Wait. No, the opposite.” This whole book is like getting advice from the world champion of diarrhea speed eating.

Judging by the advice he gives, Don considers a woman not taking a swing at him to be a sexual conquest. His approach is to take the tact of a subway masturbator, combine it with the charm of a subway masturbator, then remove all self-awareness. So yes, of course it seems like topless dancers are “easy lays” to him. When he talks to a woman in literally any other line of work, she calls the police before he says a second thing.

It’s important to note that Diebel thinks he invented trying to fuck strippers. This will be a recurring theme in his books, along with another overlooked source of eligible bachelorettes:

With this level of relentless pursuit, I have to wonder how Don managed to stay single. I’d ask one of his former lovers about it, but this entry makes me think I’d need a team of dogs and a shovel to find one.

Women, this is going to sound like obvious advice after you hear it, but find yourself a man who can list nine different swingers magazines before he even gets to the mediocre ones.

Whether it’s Carl Sagan or Neil deGrasse Tyson, a good science communicator finds ways to take complicated, expansive concepts and translate them into conversational language. Others, such as Don Diebel, might ramble for 57 words about untested neuroscience instead of suggesting “Point at your dick?”

Shout out to 1982’s Barbara, who managed to have the most uncomfortable line in a panty sniffer’s How To Date-Rape book. This was your chance to help people, and you really blew it, Barbara. I don’t know why I’m lecturing you, though. You’ve probably been dead 30 years, and your entire eulogy was just your bartender telling a coroner, “Yeah, I think that’s Britney.”

If a lady isn’t having a good time at a party where a man is leaning against a wall pointing at his dick, it’s probably because she’s sitting too far away to see. Move in close, wiggling your fingers around your genitals as necessary. If her eyesight is especially bad, here is how you say “I’M POINTING AT MY DICK” in Braille:

Haha wait, what? Fucking what, Don Diebel? This is a complete reversal of what you were saying last page. I’d hate to find out I became registered as a sex offender in 19 states by following the advice of a guy who was so full of shit he couldn’t even keep his own wisdom straight. Oh, great. Now you’ve got me writing GOP slogans.

Well, yeah. Duh. I have a boner, Don, not a passion for sorcery.

Don Diebel, if masturbation fantasies were forced by universal law to come true, we would all be hunky detectives investigating erotic mysteries with Shannon Tweed. Every few hours, we would suddenly find ourselves buried in confusing piles of our stepmother’s pantyhose. You can’t conjure things by fantasizing about them really hard. And if you could, the least imaginative seventh-grader would occupy the free time of every hot girl in the world. Don Diebel, listen. You can literally look down at your own lonely, unwelcome dick to know none of this is true, Don.

THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN continues like that for a while, going into great detail on how to hypnotize yourself to be more seductive and offering beginner hygiene tips to avoid being a dealbreaker at orgies. The book was, by any measure, a humiliating disaster. His eager, virgin dong still had more to teach, but cracks were starting to form in Don Diebel’s fragile soul.

It had been eight years since the release of THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN, and the book only became popular in one community: district attorneys presenting evidence in rape trials. But Don had an idea that could turn his literary career around — an idea most people would call embarrassing. It was a pick-up artist book written by a man, but for, get this, ladies.

It’s worth noting that the two-time failed author whose advice on hitchhikers was “try to fuck them” was now describing himself on book jackets with “Don Diebel — World famous writer, author, lecturer, dating consultant, TV and radio personality, astrologer, has helped thousands of lonely hearts win at the game of love with his phenomenal best-sellers.”

FINDING MR. RIGHT: A Woman’s Guide To Meeting Men was an ambitious project to take female victims and sexually aggressive disco creeps and swap their brains. If it worked, it would be the greatest breakthrough in free vagina since Donald Trump had a daughter. And if it didn’t, Don Diebel would just look like a lonely idiot whose greatest ambition was to get away with sexual assault — the exact thesis of his last book. Let’s see how things worked out. Once again, all typos and grammatical errors have been respectfully left in.

The first chapter is mostly for fun. It describes the different types of men you’ll run into in the nightclub. Watch out for The Woman-Hater! He only came here to get cranky when women offer him- hold on, this sounds way too familiar. Did he … no. No, he couldn’t have. There’s no way.

Oh, holy shit. This is … oh, holy shit. Don’s book on helping ladies find romance is just THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN, word for word, with the genders switched. This maniac actually knows so little about women that he thinks he can search-and-replace pronouns in a pussy-grabbing handbook and it will work as woman’s guide to finding love. That’s … that’s the most sexist thing but also somehow the least sexist thing I’ve ever heard.

When I realized he rewrote the same book (again), only with different pronouns, I thought, “OK, but he’s going to take out the section on banging hitchhikers, right?” He fucking didn’t! All he did was add three sentences to assure the eager female reader that while it is dangerous, she still has at least a 51 percent chance of surviving sex in her car with a destitute drifter. But before you jump on that “golden opportunity,” girls, keep in mind that these statistics are only the casual speculation of a lonely man who dreams of one day porking a hitchhiker. They are not official numbers from a census of highway stabbing incidents.

If you’re luring junkie male strippers home with cocaine, you’re operating at the very highest level of finding Mr. Right and Don Diebel can teach you no more. You started as a sad woman with a book and an unused lap. Now you have a man who loves your cocaine and cares about your cocaine, but who needs to leave soon to rub his balls on a birthday party. And he will remain faithful to you until the very moment a different person has cocaine. On behalf of all women and everyone who believes in true love, thank you, Don Diebel.

Maybe I didn’t give Don enough credit for his ability to adjust to feminine thinking. He made a few changes other than search-replacing the pronouns in his manual for beginner sex predators. For instance, in the male version of the book, the astrology section was about tricking gullible women into your home to pretend to do astrology. In the female version, there’s a bit of astrology.

One chapter of the female version of his book was four pages about where you can meet horny rich men. This replaced a chapter for the men devoted to infiltrating swinger communities. He may not be a smart man, but Don has been kicked out of enough orgies to know that women prefer cash prizes to group sex.

When FINDING MR. RIGHT: A Woman’s Guide To Meeting Men — the female reboot of the previous reboot of an unpublishable book — didn’t work out, Don knew he had to innovate. His keen mind, honed by years of imagining vulvas, thought: “What if there was a collection of pages that contained the names, locations, and phone numbers of businesses!?” He then published THE HOUSTON ENTERTAINMENT AND Dating GUIDE: WHERE TO GO AND WHAT TO DO FROM A TO Z

This joyless list of business hours and addresses contained 100 pages, eight grainy photos, and several short descriptions of what things like art galleries and senior citizen centers are as basic concepts. If you were in the Houston area in the early ’90s and wished the Yellow Pages were harder to navigate and written by a pervert, it made the perfect gift. Unfortunately, this was not a large enough group of people to make the book a hit.

So after publishing one pick-up artist book three different ways and one Houston Yellow Pages spec script, Don spent eight years coming up with his realest idea yet. It was a book about picking up chicks, but focusing on the only part he’d ever experienced: the opening line.

In 1999, at the age of 52, Don Diebel published 1001 Best Pick-Up Lines: Sure-fire Opening Lines For Meeting, Attracting, and Seducing Women. On the book jacket, he described himself as “America’s #1 Singles Expert and one of the nation’s leading experts on dating and relationships.” He was back and doing what he did best: creating awkward situations between a handful of sad men and their book store clerks, then nothing fucking close to anything else.

Fun fact: The book was also published on CD-ROM, but instead of featuring a hot chick getting seduced in a bar, Don used clip art of what seems to be a hospitality worker explaining to a passenger that his mother just fell off the back of the cruise ship. A strange choice, and also one irrelevant to anything I’ll be discussing! Let’s take a look inside:

Women love honesty, but they also love mystery, which makes this a perfect line, because she will find this honesty very mysterious. And then you have her right where you want her, engaging in the sensual game of cat and mouse that is seduction. She’s thinking, “Did this elderly man really fuck a breach into his blow-up doll, or does he have a poor sense of humor and no judgement?” and you’re thinking, “LICK HER TOES, COWARD. NO, MOTHER, I MUSTN’T! LICK HER TOES, COWARD.”

At first this seems like innocent wordplay, but it’s so much more. This line subliminally recreates that erotic feeling that only exists between the moment you open a Valentine’s Day card from a child and the moment you place it in the trash. She will be overwhelmed with a sense of predictable, expected disappointment.

If you built a robot to package toothpaste and it left the factory to go house to house tearing the teeth from every mouth it found, it would be better at its job than this line is at picking up women.

This one isn’t bad, Don, but the default human greeting seems a bit obvious for a book promising “Sure-fire opening lines for meeting, attracting, and seducing women” from “America’s #1 Singles Expert.” This is kind of like including “milk” in a cookbook, or “none” in The Comprehensive Guide To Vaginas Don Diebel Has Actually Seen.

“Because if you are, your pizza, pastas, and zeal for life really plumb my koopas. And lasagna? I’m sorry, no woman has ever let me talk this long. I- aaaaaaahhhhh I’m! Is this? I-I’m CUMMMING!!!!”

This is such an amazing combination of stupid, confusing, and pathetic that I think Don has given up trying to seduce ladies and now he’s simply searching for the secret cheat code to turn off a woman’s nervous system. There is one good thing about this pick-up line, though: If the club is too noisy for her to hear you, you can communicate the exact same thing by sadly holding out a condom while your own pants fill with pee. Which, if I’m not mistaken, is the Diebel family crest.

This opening line can really move things along, but it only works on Alzheimer’s patients who are willing to have sex with the men they think are their children.

No, she’s still not Italian, Don. Are you fucking stupid? Why did you write a book promising 1,001 conversation starters if the only nine honest conversations you can have are about swingers magazines? Don, when your pick-up lines are so dull you can’t remember them from earlier on the same fucking page of your own book, how are they going to work on the real women laughing at the little mustache you grew to hide your chimpanzee lips? How many times will you ask them if they’re Italian while they’re telling the bouncer you were smelling their bar stools? A million dollars says the closest you’ve ever come to actual sex is when you found a pizza pocket in your swimming trunks. You miserable fuck, Don Diebel.

While she’s lubricating from your Laffy Taffy cleverness, follow this line up with “That counts! You all saw! FIRST BASE FOR DIEBEL! Ow! Stop! OK, I’m leaving! I, HEY! I’m entitled to a phone call! I need to tell my mother I met a girl!”

Let’s imagine this in a best-case scenario. Let’s say this woman alone at the bar has no defenses against aggressive perverts. Let’s say she believes there was a fart and that it wasn’t you, Don Diebel, the man giving local fart updates to strangers. Say she abandons her drink and runs outside with the obvious pervert screaming about farts. Does this seem reasonable, Don? Because we’re not done.

Don, you seem to think a woman’s mood can be manipulated with suggestion and imperceptible body language. If that’s true, and we’re just playing games now because it isn’t, wouldn’t it work in the opposite direction? Don’t you think running up to her with a butt smell emergency might undo the 40 seconds you spent trying to get her to look at your dick? By your own science, you’ve implanted yourself in her subconscious as the bar-clearing fart guy, Don. And no one steps out on their husband with the bar-clearing fart guy.

Of course this guy has a feet thing. Jesus Christ, Don, at this point you might as well ask for her address and if it’s OK for you to keep any Maxi Pads she throws out.

This isn’t how meeting people works or how licking people works. The nicest thing anyone has ever said about Don Diebel is this quote I wrote for the back of his next book: “Don Diebel’s direct, slobbery approach to picking up women saves everyone time! Most sexual predators hide their dark intentions behind charm until it’s far too late!”

You probably know this is the desperate act of a sex criminal and wouldn’t work. If you did this one million times, you would see zero boobs and be the least popular man in prison. This is like writing a book on finance and suggesting, “Sell a stolen bike for $50 million! (Someone out there might actually do it. Billionaires are noted eccentrics.)” And don’t fucking forget, Don Diebel wrote this when he was a 52-year-old man. That’s almost 40 years past puberty, and he still cannot even imagine what it would look like if a woman said a second thing to him.

There’s no way anyone is this bad with women. If you told me this book was a marketing scheme created by the pepper spray industry, I would pretend I knew it all along.

Is that true, women? Call the police for “no,” and dry heave for a more comical “no.”

I’ve made fun of a lot of the stuff in this book, but this one is just good writing. It’s effective, too. Approaching a woman as if you have an emergency and then revealing you’re only a horny idiot works in any situation. For instance, if you’re at the DMV, say, “You crazy bitch, I know you took my cat!” Then I wait six, maybe seven beats, and finish, “…alog for big penis rubbers. Hi, are you Italian? Can Italians catch herpes on their feet?”

Let the record show: America’s #1 Singles Expert suggests, in his chapter on daddy-themed pick-up lines, that you should tell a woman her dad makes you horny with a trumpet pun.

If hundreds of miracles simultaneously take place and you find yourself in a relationship with the woman you say this to, this opening line will torment her every moment. At night, she will lay awake remembering how you introduced yourself. She’ll think about it when you’re inside her. She’ll go onto pervert forums and trumpet subreddits, desperately looking for answers. “My lover said my father must play the trumpet because he sure does make him horny. Please, what does it mean?” You couldn’t say anything more hauntingly unappealing if you walked up to a stranger and asked to slide your cold hands into her tits.

Oh, come on. Fuck your frigid soul, Don Diebel. You would lick a hole into an old shoe if you thought a female garbage collector touched it.

This book contains an entire chapter of Beavis And Butthead pick-up lines. Not similar in theme to Beavis And Butthead, but direct quotes and references to the cartoon. I don’t have a joke about that; I just want you to know it exists.

Don also included a chapter specifically about picking up topless dancers with lines like “What’s your real name?” and, I swear to God this is a line in its entirety, “Show me your bush!” He suggests saying, “Don’t you get tired of all these horny men with their brain between their legs?” on the same page as, “Don’t you get tired of being around all these drunks and horny men acting like a bunch of idiots?” Most of the other lines are different ways you can shame her and her filthy job.

Don Diebel is absolutely the lonely man in the strip bar earnestly seeking a human relationship. If you asked any stripper to list the cliches this type of man says, she could write, word-for-word, Don Diebel’s chapter on picking up topless dancers. As he went into the year 2000, Don was a 53-year-old man offering sex to sex workers with all the allure of a cockroach feeding on Charlie Sheen’s blood. And things didn’t get much better in the next decade.

The 2000s were a slow time for Diebel’s publishing. His first five books were the dark fantasies of a monster too sheepish to go through with a real kidnapping. He was a second penis on the only panda in a zoo — useless in ways too obvious and depressing to get into.

Dwell magazine did an interview with him, not as a pick-up artist, but as a lamp expert. Apparently, they saw an article on his website about romantic lighting, and thought he would be the perfect expert to review three modern lamps. Each of his reviews were the incoherent ramblings of someone you would only describe as a non-lamp-expert, but that’s not important. What’s important is it revealed Don Diebel had a website, and it’s exactly what you’d expect.

It’s called Getgirls.com, and it sells sex cologne, romance cassettes, and his stupid goddamn books. And these are not products for presentable men looking to enhance their desirability — Getgirls.com is totally banking on you having several crippling emotional disorders and facial defects. His approach to women is 100 percent “You’re barely slime, so why not try groveling and titty-grabbing.” Here’s a screenshot:

Getgirls.com’s products are designed to turn unwilling women into sex partners, which is strange, because it’s the one thing the site’s creator has plainly never done. It sells pheromone perfume for inventive rapists and hypnosis tapes for horny magicians. But selling snake oil for inflatable-doll-scented penises wasn’t as successful as you might imagine, so Don tried one last time to write a book on scoring babes. Let’s talk about 2009’s 200 Guaranteed Ways To Succeed With Women: Everything You Need To Know On How To Meet, Date, And Attract Women.

This book is pathetic, yes, but not like the others. This one mostly focuses on how to deal with the overwhelming depression that comes with being Don Diebel. It’s less a guide to crushing ass and more of a training manual for a crisis hotline volunteer. The entries are self-help mantras like “Cure for the blues (#10)” and “How to be happy (#14),” which take up less than a whole page put together. And #30 is just “How to eat Italian food,” with a couple of tips on table manners. But let me tell you about #29. Oh, holy shitting fuck, #29.

Imagine the erotic memoirs of a 62-year-old virgin who never learned to write and still isn’t sure which of the blobs is the mons pubis. That’s what I’m about to show you. The 29th Guaranteed Way to Succeed with Women is called “My date from hell,” and it’s an un-proofread account of Don Diebel’s greatest sexual triumph:

One of the reasons Diebel’s pick-up lines are so bad is that half-naked women jump on him before he can practice them. And if you’re thinking none of this happened, which of these two scenarios is more likely?

A: A sad man with a history of bad ethics falsifies an unverifiable and unlikely story in which he’s highly motivated to lie.

B: The hottest girl, like, ever gets into a vehicle alone with a non-handsome elderly man as he’s trying to drive over sunbathers.

C: Oh, you weren’t expecting a C, ladies? It was to catch you off-guard so I could subliminally end this sentence with three sexually charged words penis, butt, penis. Hi, I’m Seanbaby, and I’ve read all of Don Diebel’s books. Show me your bush.

Assuming this date really happened (and aren’t we being cute), Don offered to drive Hot Bikini Girl to his place. She agreed, but instead of a wild night of romance, they discovered Don left his dog home alone with no water while he was cruising for hard bodies. It was comatose from dehydration. This means in an imaginary story wherein Diebel controls every detail, he nearly murders his own dog and can’t close the deal with the loose stranger who came to his house for sex. But don’t give up yet. We’re not even close to done.

OK, so Don Diebel killed his dog, but not before it got way more action from his date than he did.

Despite the loss of his best friend, Don was still in the mood for love. Obviously, he could drive back to the beach to find a replacement hot girl, maybe even one who hadn’t watched a dog die on her own mouth that afternoon. But Diebel was going to finish what he started — he took the same girl to dinner, on a helicopter tour of the city, to a nightclub, and then to the pier, his beloved dead companion still lingering on her breath.

None of the date was going well. She flirted with other men, Don picked a fight with her, and she jumped into a lake and nearly died. “I was pissed,” remembers Don. But you don’t get to be America’s #1 Singles Expert by giving up easily. Don took the wet girl he hated back to his house, where he planned to have meaningless sex mere feet from a bag of dog food to go forever uneaten. Instead, this happens:

That was quite an adventure, right? It’s obviously — OBVIOUSLY — not true, but all good lies have elements of truth in them. So, Houston police, there’s a really good chance Don is describing the time he killed his dog, drugged a woman, and threw her body in a lake. The only part of the story I 100 percent believe is that Don couldn’t get laid even with the world’s sluttiest girl over the course of eight location changes.

Don reprinted this story on a self-help(!) website, and I really encourage speculative fiction fans to go read it in its entirety: My Date From Hell. But do that later, because we’re about to enter the 2010s, the decade when Don Diebel truly lost his entire mind.

With the forgettable 200 Guaranteed Whatevers To Disappoint Your Erection behind him, Don had to reach deep into his vulva-haunted brain for an original idea. He didn’t find one. He published 100 Best Places To Take A Date, with ideas like “miniature golf” and “pizza.” It was a dickless shadow of an idea already written by thousands of history’s dumbest, least imaginative writers and made long obsolete by phone books. Diebel’s inspirations were as drained as the balls of a man who seductively screams “Show me your bush!” at topless dancers.

Fun Fact: This is the actual copy of 100 Best Places to Take a Date sent to me by Don Diebel. It came with a homemade label, no case, and an advertisement for a CD on dominating pussy no longer in stock. Wait, out of stock? You’re an old man burning CD-ROMs in his apartment. How does that supply chain get disrupted? Was there some kind of button shortage on your mouse? Did your assisted living nurse throw out the floppy disk that had dom_pu~1.wpd on it? This last one isn’t a joke but a real guess: did you get banned from Radio Shack for attempted rape? I guess my point is, Don Diebel isn’t good at anything.

Destroyed by the soul-crushing realization that he was out of ideas for seducing women, he gave up and wrote what might be the loneliest book title since Single Player Rules for Fallout: The Board Game. Here it is:

Don Diebel was alone in a universe where ass no longer held meaning. The Easy Way To IMPROVE YOUR GOLF WITH S/A GOLF HYPNOTISM took the same self-hypnosis nonsense Don was using 35 years earlier to psych himself up for a poontang hunt and adapted it for golf. For a professional chick hound, it was like finally turning a dead husband’s den into a sewing room. It was like tattooing DO NOT RESUSCITATE on your dick and smothering it with a pillow. It was Don Diebel concluding that he would never learn if the Masters of the Universe Horde Slime Pit Playset actually did feel like a real-life blowjob. Diebel was fucking done.

…

No. Not yet. With a dusty cough, Don Diebel’s groin rose from the grave. There had to be one last thing he could try, one last light to cling to. And then Don realized the secret to pussy was right in front of him all along: the majesty of Jesus Christ. Or as he put it in the intro to his next book:

This would sound a bit absurd coming from anyone else, but if Don Diebel is hearing another voice in his bed, it can only be coming from Jesus Christ. Unfortunately, this idea God gave him for a book sucked, and Don’s newfound lord and savior was an even worse editor. They say He’s infallible, but He couldn’t get through the second sentence of the introduction before missing a this typo. Other philosophers have said this before me, but checkmate, all religion.

This book is desperate groveling on a cosmic, spiritual level. It is a whisper in the darkness pleading for someone, anyone to send Don Diebel a butt to touch. It’s a man complaining to the creator of all things for giving women a choice in their sex partners. Let me show you what I’m talking about:

Nothing is a more perfect Bible quote for Don Diebel’s dating life than one about staying strong in the face of rejection and getting help from your hand.

About a quarter of the book is Bible verses loosely related to rejection and loneliness, but the majority of it is things like this, dating advice rewritten in the form of prayer. Don will call up Jesus and say things like, “Please help me make sure my body language is sexually suggestive and that I have an air of self-assured confidence because ladies love that. In your name I pray, Amen.” So in a way, it’s a very sad Don Diebel typing out his prayers. In another way, it’s a very confident pick-up veteran telling Jesus Himself how to score pussy.

You sad bitch. Your body language advice used to be “point at your dick.” Now it’s “pretend you’re holding a guy’s hand?” Don, you are 70 years old, and you’re still trolling nightclubs for ass? You can’t call any of your countless former lovers to see if their self-esteem is still low enough to watch your partial erection flutter? I’m starting to think it was shortsighted to introduce yourself to every woman by offering to lick the pool water off her feet.

As sad as this prayer is, it gets sadder. It’s reprinted one page later in the exact same section, word for word. At this point, Don has given up on Jesus sending him single women and would be fine with Jesus sending him the tools to cope with depression. Don, you’re a septuagenarian sex book author who never learned where commas or penises go. How about you stop nagging Jesus for the impossible and thank Him for inspiring you to fill that puppet’s mouth with anal lubricant?

For decades, this man has destroyed every relationship he’s had by immediately checking if she’s the legendary woman who gives out free sex to everyone brave enough to ask. And here is what it led to: Don Diebel, after authoring ten books on scoring chicks, is begging Jesus for a girl in a prayer that sounds like it was written by a third-year third-grader. Failure isn’t a big enough word, and Hitlerfailure hasn’t been invented yet. Don’t feel sorry for Don, though. This is, without exception, the future every woman he’s met starting in 1980 has warned him about. The tragic story of Don Diebel is only surprising because we’re not used to such obvious, twistless endings.

I’ve learned a lot by reading Don Diebel’s books. I’ve learned that you can’t shove your nuts into the night and call it “meeting women.” Now and always, you have to treat women with respect, and loop your thumbs in your belt so your fingers point at your own dick, creating a subliminal message those confused drunk sluts can’t resist. And if that doesn’t work, Plan B is Jesus.

With this victory, Seanbaby is the new America’s #1 Singles Expert. You can follow him on Twitter and play his hit mobile game Calculords.

Ladies, if you encounter a Don Diebel out there, here’s a link to some pepper spray.

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