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Old 05-06-2018, 04:20 PM   #641
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You do know that Roald Dahl was acquainted with both James Bond writer, Ian Fleming and Satanist Aleister Crowley as they all worked together in the intelligence services during WWII. There's probably more hidden messages in Dahl's books than in Kubrick's films.
Sounds interesting.
Do we have a thread on it?
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Old 05-06-2018, 05:16 PM   #642
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Sounds interesting.
Do we have a thread on it?
No but I can make one.

Anyway back to the giving yourself notion...Cosmic Tramp fantasy number 956:

She sits beside him on his sofa of soliloquy, before her, upon the table a Lazy Susan ( 3 tiered cake stand) adorned with the pink and yellow squares of marzipan enrobed Battenburg tranches (Cupid's chessboard), Eccles cakes, Bavarian Slices, marshmallow Snowballs, chocolate eclairs, Viennese whirls, Chocolate fudge cake, Almond tarts, fondant fancies, and a teapot of finest amber nectar with matching cup.

He asks her which she would like to try first, and with his nickel-plated cake tongs he delivers unto her puckering lips, the choicest sweetmeat of her desire, which she devours in hapless abandon, only to be met with the next serving of her choice, and the next, and another, and the next. Jam. Choux Pastry. Filo pastry. Marzipan. Sponge. Cream. Opening wide so he can spoon well in, running his fingers through her hair as she gives way to her unbearable need.

She gives herself to the olfactory delight. Her body undulating, trembling. Panting, blindfolded now with a silk tie entwined around her pretty head, she entrusts him to whet her epicurean desires which seem to have a life of their own, legs akimbo, stroking the nape of her neck as her tongue performs somersaults around the next sweetmeat. He adorns her yet still she denies him. All she wants is cake, and then some.

Quenching her with a draught of the Punjana tea, she continues the onslaught, barely noticing the top button of her jeans is now unfastened, helpless to their looseness, his index finger stroking down the smooth flat of her belly and the forbidden zone beyond as it screams in desire for another sundry cake , her lips and tongue for another taste sensation, his finger now delicately tracing the beginnings of her musky pubis. Laying back uponst the Persian Elephant cushion covers, he fills her more. More buttons pop. Her blouse is loose, it slips away like so much icing. He slips in the tip of the chocolate eclair, teasing her with its creamy choux promise, drawing it away , making her neck crane and lurch forward in an attempt to wrap her lips around its moist tenderness again, and again, it is held just out of reach, the tip of her tongue barely touching its enticing texture, until she can bear it no more, he slides the entire eclair well in to the back of her throat where it tickles her tonsils and cream oozes from her lips, her mouth ravishing the light choux pastry and Belgian chocolate sauce in ravenous delight.

The next cake she tastes is his tongue, wending its way inside her oeuvre. Thrusting and probing as prelude to deeper depths. He strategically, teasingly, kisses her on points of her now naked stomach and thighs as she chews and swallows, she pulling his hair in agonising defiance when his lips approach anywhere near her hungering womanhood. He's Loving the Alien. She's the Puffa Puffa Rice girl. The choux pastry melds with cream and chocolate in abject delight. The butter pastry melting on her tongue as the choice , moist, Vostizza currants of the Eccles cake cascade into her gaping mouth.

He is as helpless as she. Firmly kneading her now heaving shoulders as freshly stretched Naan dough in some attempt to cling on to the invisible filigree thread of desire which chains him to her, as manacles forged in the darkest dungeon. All that made no sense before makes all sense now, sensitive and sensual, soporiphic and succulent. Both prisoners to a higher realm, subject to the mercies of their own bodies and mindsets, their minds in havoc, their souls in hazard, their libidos subjected to limbo. Acayinta Beheda Beheda. Still blindfold, she proceeds to firmly strip him regardless of any protest or social protocol, until he is as near naked as she and he can do nothing to stop this, as if subject to Aztec sacrifice on the altar for the High Priestess of Blood. Oh how such fictions may present themselves as realities in the most unexpected moment. It's what they both deserved. No prompt. No prelude. No warning. Surf the Tsunami it will engulf you, when worlds collide and volcanoes erupt. A molten magma of marzipan floods her tongue. Her mobile rings again from he or she who's not supposed to know. She ignores it. The urgent ringtone compounding the intensity of the encounter, like a repetitive anthem in some tribal ritual.

His weapon is primed as destiny decreed. No going back now. No longer his possession. Beyond his own command. Neither now have any control, what will be will be. Internally he begs for mercy at the inevitable outcome, a desire which negates any love for any other, demanding nothing less than total relinquishment of love for any other. She has him. Both strangers in a strange land, subjecting themselves to the subliminal. A life sentence, the verdict of which would only be decreed by the cosmos itself. He pays in body, mind and soul to her hard won satisfaction, as if the event were decreed millennia ago. He deftly unclips the bracelet from her finely bone smith chiselled wrist, the surge through her body is unbearable, as if a cosmic chastity belt has been released.

She tingles, as she licks and chews another Danish pastry. So much sponge. So much marzipan. So much cream. He gives her a damn good caking for which she knows now resistance is futile, helpless surrender the only option...her entire life destiny meeting at this point in space and time and cake.


Men in crisis ? What crisis ?


...to be continued...

(Edited & revised 6-6-18)

Last edited by cosmic tramp; 06-06-2018 at 12:03 PM. Reason: Artistic License !
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Old 05-06-2018, 06:48 PM   #643
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^ food porn to entice into the story...sexy.
I like Battenberg cake.



If we ever do DIF meet-up, we can trust you and let you be in charge of the cakedom.

I reckon tamlinn is like this really healthy vegan who eats no sugar. There goes your match made in heaven. lol

Last edited by elshaper; 05-06-2018 at 06:53 PM.
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Old 05-06-2018, 07:12 PM   #644
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...spend all me days slaving over a hot stove and look where it gets me...
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Old 05-06-2018, 07:47 PM   #645
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^ food porn to entice into the story...sexy.
I like Battenberg cake.



If we ever do DIF meet-up, we can trust you and let you be in charge of the cakedom.

I reckon tamlinn is like this really healthy vegan who eats no sugar. There goes your match made in heaven. lol
Not a vegan but I try and keep my carbs and sugar low.
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Old 05-06-2018, 08:38 PM   #646
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No but I can make one.

Anyway back to the giving yourself notion...Cosmic Tramp fantasy number 956:

She sits beside him on his sofa of soliloquy, before her, upon the table a Lazy Susan ( 3 tiered cake stand) adorned with the pink and yellow squares of marzipan enrobed Battenburg tranches (Cupid's chessboard), Eccles cakes, Bavarian Slices, marshmallow Snowballs, chocolate eclairs, Viennese whirls, Chocolate fudge cake, Almond tarts, fondant fancies, and a teapot of finest amber nectar with matching cup.

He asks her which she would like to try first, and with his nickel-plated cake tongs he delivers unto her puckering lips, the choicest sweetmeat of her desire, which she devours in hapless abandon, only to be met with the next serving of her choice, and the next, and another, and the next. Jam. Choux Pastry. Filo pastry. Marzipan. Sponge. Cream. Opening wide so he can spoon well in, running his fingers through her hair as she gives way to her unbearable need.

She gives herself to the olfactory delight. Her body undulating, trembling. Panting, blindfolded now with a silk tie entwined around her pretty head, she entrusts him to whet her epicurean desires which seem to have a life of their own, legs akimbo, stroking the nape of her neck as her tongue performs somersaults around the next sweetmeat. He adorns her yet still she denies him.

Quenching her with a draught of the Punjana tea, she continues the onslaught, barely noticing the top button of her jeans is now unfastened, helpless to their looseness, his index finger stroking down the smooth flat of her belly and the forbidden zone beyond as it screams in desire for another sundry cake , her lips and tongue for another taste sensation, his finger now delicately tracing the beginnings of her musky pubis. Laying back uponst the Persian Elephant cushion covers, he fills her more. More buttons pop. Her blouse is loose, it slips away like so much icing. The next cake she tastes is his tongue, wending its way inside her oeuvre. Thrusting and probing as prelude to deeper depths. He strategically, teasingly, kisses her on points of her now naked stomach and thighs as she chews and swallows, she pulling his hair in agonising defiance when his lips approach anywhere near her hungering womanhood. He's Loving the Alien. She's the Puffa Puffa Rice girl. The choux pastry melds with cream and chocolate in abject delight. He is as helpless as she. Firmly kneading her now heaving shoulders as freshly stretched Naan dough. All that made no sense before makes all sense now, sensitive and sensual. Both prisoners to a higher realm, subject to the mercies of their own bodies and mindsets, their minds in havoc, their souls in hazard, their libidos subjected to limbo. Acayinta Beheda Beheda. Still blindfold, she proceeds to firmly strip him regardless of any protest or social protocol, until he is as near naked as she and he can do nothing to stop this, as if subject to Aztec sacrifice for the High Priestess of Blood. Oh how such fictions may present themselves as realities in the most unexpected moment. It's what they both deserved. No prompt. No prelude. No warning. Surf the Tsunami it will engulf you, when worlds collide.

His weapon is primed as destiny decreed. No going back now. No longer his possession. Beyond his own command. Neither now have any control, what will be will be. Internally he begs for mercy at the inevitable outcome, a desire which negates any love for any other, demanding nothing less than total relinquishment of love for any other. She has him. Both strangers in a strange land, subjecting themselves to the subliminal. A life sentence, the verdict of which would only be decreed by the cosmos itself. He pays in body, mind and soul to her hard won satisfaction, as if the event were decreed millennia ago.

She tingles, as she licks and chews another Danish pastry. So much sponge. So much marzipan. So much cream. He gives her a damn good caking for which she knows now resistance is futile, helpless surrender the only option...her entire life destiny meeting at this point in space and time and cake.


...to be continued...
they need to be careful or they'll end up with a bun in the oven...
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Old 06-06-2018, 12:05 PM   #647
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No but I can make one.

Anyway back to the giving yourself notion...Cosmic Tramp fantasy number 956:

She sits beside him on his sofa of soliloquy, before her, upon the table a Lazy Susan ( 3 tiered cake stand) adorned with the pink and yellow squares of marzipan enrobed Battenburg tranches (Cupid's chessboard), Eccles cakes, Bavarian Slices, marshmallow Snowballs, chocolate eclairs, Viennese whirls, Chocolate fudge cake, Almond tarts, fondant fancies, and a teapot of finest amber nectar with matching cup.

He asks her which she would like to try first, and with his nickel-plated cake tongs he delivers unto her puckering lips, the choicest sweetmeat of her desire, which she devours in hapless abandon, only to be met with the next serving of her choice, and the next, and another, and the next. Jam. Choux Pastry. Filo pastry. Marzipan. Sponge. Cream. Opening wide so he can spoon well in, running his fingers through her hair as she gives way to her unbearable need.

She gives herself to the olfactory delight. Her body undulating, trembling. Panting, blindfolded now with a silk tie entwined around her pretty head, she entrusts him to whet her epicurean desires which seem to have a life of their own, legs akimbo, stroking the nape of her neck as her tongue performs somersaults around the next sweetmeat. He adorns her yet still she denies him. As if compounding his own guilt and shame at the darkness of his desires. She squints upon him disdainfully, dismissively, helpless to his own erection. His problem. Not hers. Teeth on show, all she wants is cake, and then some. He fills her. She approaches the next offering as dispassionately as Bowie approaches a microphone.

Quenching her with a draught of the Punjana tea, she continues the onslaught, barely noticing the top button of her jeans is now unfastened, helpless to their looseness, his index finger stroking down the smooth flat of her belly and the forbidden zone beyond as it screams in desire for another sundry cake , her lips and tongue for another taste sensation, his finger now delicately tracing the beginnings of her musky pubis. Laying back uponst the Persian Elephant cushion covers, he fills her more. More buttons pop. Her blouse is loose, it slips away like so much icing sifting away. He slips in the tip of the chocolate eclair, teasing her with its creamy choux promise, drawing it away , making her neck crane and lurch forward in an attempt to wrap her lips around its moist tenderness again, and again, it is held just out of reach, the tip of her tongue barely touching its enticing texture, until she can bear it no more, he slides the entire eclair well in to the back of her throat where it tickles her tonsils and cream oozes from her lips, her mouth ravishing the light choux pastry and Belgian chocolate sauce in ravenous delight.

The next cake she tastes is his tongue, wending its way inside her oeuvre. Thrusting and probing as prelude to deeper depths. He strategically, teasingly, kisses her on points of her now naked stomach and thighs as she chews and swallows, she pulling his hair in agonising defiance when his lips approach anywhere near her hungering womanhood. He's Loving the Alien. She's the Puffa Puffa Rice girl. The choux pastry melds with cream and chocolate in abject delight. The butter pastry melting on her tongue as the choice , moist, Vostizza currants of the Eccles cake cascade into her gaping mouth.

He is as helpless as she. Firmly kneading her now heaving shoulders as freshly stretched Naan dough in some attempt to cling on to the invisible filigree thread of desire which chains him to her, as manacles forged in the darkest dungeon. All that made no sense before makes all sense now, sensitive and sensual, soporiphic and succulent. Both prisoners to a higher realm, subject to the mercies of their own bodies and mindsets, their minds in havoc, their souls in hazard, their libidos subjected to limbo. Acayinta Beheda Beheda. Still blindfold, she proceeds to firmly strip him regardless of any protest or social protocol, until he is as near naked as she and he can do nothing to stop this, as if subject to Aztec sacrifice on the altar for the High Priestess of Blood. Oh how such fictions may present themselves as realities in the most unexpected moment. It's what they both deserved. No prompt. No prelude. No warning. Surf the Tsunami it will engulf you, when worlds collide and volcanoes erupt. A molten magma of marzipan floods her tongue. Her mobile rings again from he or she who's not supposed to know. She ignores it. The urgent ringtone compounding the intensity of the encounter, like a repetitive anthem in some tribal ritual.

His weapon is primed as destiny decreed. No going back now. No longer his possession. Beyond his own command. Neither now have any control, what will be will be. Internally he begs for mercy at the inevitable outcome, a desire which negates any love for any other, demanding nothing less than total relinquishment of love for any other. She has him. Both strangers in a strange land, subjecting themselves to the subliminal. A life sentence, the verdict of which would only be decreed by the cosmos itself. He pays in body, mind and soul to her hard won satisfaction, as if the event were decreed millennia ago. He deftly unclips the bracelet from her finely bonesmith chiselled wrist, the surge through her body is unbearable, as if a cosmic chastity belt has been released.

She tingles, as she licks and chews another Danish pastry. So much sponge. So much marzipan. So much cream. He gives her a damn good caking for which she knows now resistance is futile, helpless surrender the only option...her entire life destiny meeting at this point in space and time and cake.


Men in crisis ? What crisis ?


...to be continued...

(Edited & revised 6-6-18)
BUMP. Updated version.

Last edited by cosmic tramp; 06-06-2018 at 04:47 PM.
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Old 06-06-2018, 12:50 PM   #648
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Not all carbs are created equal...


https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-44368601
says BBC....

^Is that you Cosmic?
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Old 06-06-2018, 01:30 PM   #649
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says BBC....

^Is that you Cosmic?
What one must bear in mind here is the layering in my fiction. The cakes are merely a by product of the outcome. You see the whole point of cake is that the ingredients : flour, milk, sugar, eggs, quite bland and boring in their own right, have a propensity to create something greater than the sum total of its parts in the final result, when melded, mixed, baked and glazed. As here with the two characters both yielding to something which neither of them can fully understand. A force borne of destiny's design.

Here in this story, we see the Cosmic Tramp as presenting both characters as ingredients in their own right, submissive to an overriding force which neither of them fully comprehends tetr beween them forms a leavening and transformation as per the bak-ed cake. . Overwhelmed by the urgency of the experiential encounter, defying all expectation and social protocol. Such is the recipe for unbridled passion and love. Unleashed by the mere inevitability of a cosmic encounter ; on one level quite urbane : tea and cakes, yet on another quite simply cosmic.

When I come to rewrite it, I would probably build on more of their previous relationships and encounters, with astrological references, what happened on the morning they both dressed for this occasion, early childhood memories, and so on and so forth. If you can't see beyond the cakes then my story is simply debased and you may as well just go to Greggs.

The story also lacks nuts. Got to get the nuts in there : walnuts, pistachios, cashews. One of the oldest foodstuffs known to (wo)mankind, dating back millennia. Eden fodder. Maybe someone else should write a complementary paragraph or two.

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Old 06-06-2018, 01:56 PM   #650
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What one must bear in mind here is the layering in my fiction. The cakes are merely a by product of the outcome. You see the whole point of cake is that the ingredients : flour, milk, sugar, eggs, quite bland and boring in their own right, have a propensity to create something greater than the sum total of its parts in the final result, when melded, mixed, baked and glazed. As here with the two characters both yielding to something which neither of them can fully understand. A force borne of destiny's design.

Here in this story, we see the Cosmic Tramp as presenting both characters as ingredients in their own right, submissive to an overriding force which neither of them fully comprehends . Overwhelmed by the urgency of the experiential encounter, defying all expectation and social protocol. Such is the recipe for unbridled passion and love. Unleashed by the mere inevitability of a cosmic encounter ; on one level quite urbane : tea and cakes, yet on another quite simply cosmic.

When I come to rewrite it, I would probably build on more of their previous relationships and encounters, with astrological references, what happened on the morning they both dressed for this occasion, early childhood memories, and so on and so forth. If you can't see beyond the cakes then my story is simply debased and you may as well just go to Greggs.

The story also lacks nuts. Got to get the nuts in there : walnuts, pistachios, cashews. One of the oldest foodstuffs known to (wo)mankind, dating back millennia. Maybe someone else should write a complementary paragraph or two.

It is rather distracting.
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Old 06-06-2018, 02:18 PM   #651
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It is rather distracting.
Distracting perchance in the sense you may wish to give yourself in hapless abandon ? That was indeed the intent and purport of the tale.
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Old 06-06-2018, 06:54 PM   #652
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Here in this story, we see the Cosmic Tramp as presenting both characters as ingredients in their own right, submissive to an overriding force which neither of them fully comprehends . Overwhelmed by the urgency of the experiential encounter, defying all expectation and social protocol. Such is the recipe for unbridled passion and love. Unleashed by the mere inevitability of a cosmic encounter ; on one level quite urbane : tea and cakes, yet on another quite simply cosmic.
sex, tea and cakes...what more does anyone need?

be careful though who you approach as these days you might be accused of 'harassment' if you admire a ladies buns

northern girls still appreciate good tea and cakes. Get yourself a down to earth northern lass

They speak their mind too
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Old 06-06-2018, 07:16 PM   #653
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Maybe women are just more fussy than men....

Women more likely to feel disgust than men, study claims
'We need to understand how we respond to infection threat so we can keep people healthy'

Olivia Petter
@oliviapetter1
6 hours ago

Women experience disgust more frequently than men due to fundamental evolutionary distinctions, a new study has found.

Researchers at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine surveyed more than 2,500 people online, asking them to rate their levels of disgust at 75 potential scenarios ranging from ‘no disgust’ to ‘extreme disgust’.

They subsequently identified six common categories of disgust and found that women reacted to each of these with greater levels of disgust than men.
https://www.independent.co.uk/life-s...-a8382141.html
maybe what the independent means when they say women are more likely to feel 'disgust' is that they mean to say that women are more judgemental than men
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Old 07-06-2018, 11:09 AM   #654
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sex, tea and cakes...what more does anyone need?

be careful though who you approach as these days you might be accused of 'harassment' if you admire a ladies buns

northern girls still appreciate good tea and cakes. Get yourself a down to earth northern lass

They speak their mind too
Aye. Thaz talkin' my sorta language theer, lass. Do 'av another fondant fancy...
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Old 18-08-2018, 06:29 PM   #655
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Hospital admissions for teenage girls who self-harm nearly double
School work and social media blamed for rise to 13,500 patients from 7,300 in 1997
Nadeem Badshah
Mon 6 Aug 2018 00.19 BST

The number of girls under the age of 18 being treated in hospital in England after self-harming has nearly doubled compared with 20 years ago, according to NHS figures.

The figure reached 13,463 last year against 7,327 in 1997. In comparison, the figure for admissions of boys who self-harmed rose from 2,236 in 1997 to 2,332 in 2017.

The number of girls treated for attempting a substance overdose has risen more than tenfold to 2,736 last year from 249 in 1997, while the number of boys treated increased over the past 21 years from 152 to 839 last year.
https://www.theguardian.com/society/...-nearly-double
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Old 19-08-2018, 03:15 AM   #656
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Hospital admissions for teenage girls who self-harm nearly double
School work and social media blamed for rise to 13,500 patients from 7,300 in 1997
Nadeem Badshah
Mon 6 Aug 2018 00.19 BST

The number of girls under the age of 18 being treated in hospital in England after self-harming has nearly doubled compared with 20 years ago, according to NHS figures.

The figure reached 13,463 last year against 7,327 in 1997. In comparison, the figure for admissions of boys who self-harmed rose from 2,236 in 1997 to 2,332 in 2017.

The number of girls treated for attempting a substance overdose has risen more than tenfold to 2,736 last year from 249 in 1997, while the number of boys treated increased over the past 21 years from 152 to 839 last year.
https://www.theguardian.com/society/...-nearly-double
So now it's girls in crisis?
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Old 19-08-2018, 10:20 AM   #657
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So now it's girls in crisis?
my argument throughout this thread has been that men and women do not live in isolation

Their health, happiness and potentialities are intertwinned

I believe they are not supposed to compete. I believe they are supposed to cooperate

So when there is orchestrated conflict between them ie the 'battle of the sexes' it causes harm to both sides

I also believe if one gender is suppressed that will ultimately have a negative effect on the other because i believe there is a dynamic between men and women that is a delicate balance

I believe that there is a cabal of people who WANT society to fail so that they can refashion society into something new and i believe those people are behind militant marxist feminism and the attempt to disrupt the dynamic between men and women with the covert intention of throwing society off balance

I believe news stories like the one above are the result of this process. If men are in crisis i believe women will be in crisis too and visa versa
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Old 20-09-2018, 03:32 PM   #658
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wow just read this story from the guardian where the author of the piece blames men for womens current state of unhappiness!

She appears to agree that the twin stresses of exams and social media are affecting the happiness of young women but she then assumes that the reason young women are on social media so much is because they are afraid to go outside because of 'male violence'!

So according to that guardian writer the reason women are obsessed with social media is not because they like to glare into it like the mirror on the wall of the snow white story so that they can see their own carefully cultivated public image reflected back at them its because they are avoiding all the violence outside!

Incredible!

So by blaming men for womens unhappiness she basically lets women off the hook so that they don't have to self-reflect on their own behaviours and neuroses!

And no self-reflection will mean NO PERSONAL GROWTH which will just mean women getting more and more unhappy as they all keep making themselves and each other increasingly insecure about their own lives and appearances and status through social media because of their own outer directed need for social validation

The message from the progressive guardian is: don't reflect on your own behaviours, habits and views girls just blame men for everything even when its got nothing to do with them

How about your verbal and psychological violence with your man hating piece? How about how you threaten to affect womens mental health by pushing man hate instead of examining why women are REALLY so obsessed with social media?


Of course girls feel miserable. They can’t move freely in the world

Suzanne Moore
@suzanne_moore
Wed 19 Sep 2018 17.48 BST


Another day, another headline about the unhappiness of girls. The latest one is from a survey that finds a “sharp decline in the happiness of young women and girls”. The Girlguiding organisation found that only 25% of girls between the ages of seven and 21 are “very happy”. Whereas in 2009, 41% said they were. The older they are, the unhappier they become: 27% of 17- to 21-year-olds said they did not feel happy, whereas as in 2009 only 11% did.

What does this mean? How do we measure happiness? Who is very happy or expects to be? What teenager is bouncing round with sheer joy? Who declares themselves happy all the time?

We know already – don’t we? – that there are epidemic proportions of self-harm and eating disorders among girls. We know that everyone talks more openly about anxiety and depression, but actually the resources are not there to deal with it. If you want counselling on the NHS, you may wait up to a year for six sessions of CBT. Therapists working in schools are the first to be hit by budget cuts. They are considered dispensable. Child and adolescent mental health services (CAMHS) is completely over-stretched.

I am not sure we need surveys to confirm to female unhappiness. It is there in every conversation

So young people are left with little more than a soup of self-help advice about eating well, running, and somehow loving themselves, when clearly, for all the duck pouts and sucked-in tummies, many young women judge themselves to be so imperfect as to have already failed the invisible test of acceptable femininity.

I am not sure we need surveys to confirm to female unhappiness. It is there in every conversation, if we want to listen. When high-profile women speak out about their own pain, they are cheered on. Lily Allen has recently, in an interview with this paper, and Ruth Davidson has even shown us her scars. Are we shocked that these powerful, successful women have felt as low as it possible to feel at certain times in their lives? Female power it seems has always to be linked to female fragility is some shape or form. We are not invincible, say these women: #MeToo not just to sexual assault but to the feelings of wanting to obliterate the pain. They are applauded for their bravery, and for the fact really that they have survived.

And this is what I really think: asking girls whether they are happy (and boys too, but this is a survey about girls), when so many clearly aren’t, gets us only so far. We should ask them how they survive. The twin evils of social media and exam pressure are always blamed. Both of these things are spoken about as though nothing can be done about them. Girls simply have to negotiate a world knowing they don’t look like a Kardashian, and that without the right grades they will be written off at 16.

Exam pressure has got worse because the exit strategies that were in place if school was not the best time of your life (it rarely is) have been closed. The decimation of further education is government policy. A-levels have been so mucked about with, no one quite knows how they work. These are the years when we could give kids a break, but no: that part of education is now as linear, narrow, uncreative and joyless as the rest.

As for social media and the nastiness that girls experience through it, again this does not exist in a vacuum. Why do they spend so much time online anyway? Because they feel unsafe in the outside world? Is this some mass delusion? “More than half of those aged 13 to 21 have felt unsafe walking home alone, experienced harassment or know someone who has, and nearly half feel unsafe using public transport,” the survey states.

This is an astonishing statistic. Yes, we must be much more aware of mental health issues, but this … this is a social issue. Girls do not feel safe in the outside world. Let’s name why: male violence.
https://www.theguardian.com/commenti...-male-violence
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Old 25-09-2018, 02:20 PM   #659
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Originally Posted by iamawaveofthesea View Post
and my point is valid too that you shouldn't dump all of that at the door of straight men...

No i don't think so....weinstein has been creeping his way around holywood for years and there has not been a hoo-ha like this

The timing of this is all significant and is part of a wider move to socially engineer society. Weinstein was simply a spark used to light the fire but really it is part of a move to demonise western men while ignoring the organised muslims rape gangs raping their way across europe that none of the feminists want to speak about because weaponised mass immigration is all part of their progressive agenda to smash western society so that the rothschild-cabal who are behind this marxist revolution from above can continue to move everyone ever closer to being enslaved under their technocracy

social credit will be used alongside political correctness and all the new and confining language to make a society where people are afraid to speak out about anything for fear of treading on some arbitrary faux-moral landmine and then seeing their social value destroyed by the system



except those of us who understand that this conspiracy is real and is happening are quite frankly relieved to see people speaking out about it.

Where you see self-aggrandising loud mouths we see people with balls willing to speak out in the face of a massive push towards AUTHORITARIANISM by the marxist left



ah so when someone challenges the PC narrative and uses their own experiences to explain where their views are coming from then according to you they are simply crazy and full of anger

But here's the thing....that was ALWAYS a tactic of the marxist frankfurt school, which is to say to dismiss anyone who disagreed with them as mentally ill

This way they never had to face the points the person made and could instead simply dismiss them, which is what you are trying to do to karen by impuning her character and not her points

How much of her work you are basing these accusations of yours on i'm not sure but i hope it is not all on the basis of the single clip that has been posted in this thread!



ha ha yes it's so funny that the world is falling apart around us.....not

women are absolutely welcome in this thread, but i would like to remind you that this thread is about looking at how men are in crisis and ideally within the context of the wider conspiracy to destroy the fabric of society to pave the way to a technocratic prison society, which we are seeing take shape around us more and more by the day it seems...

I have been sharing my own ideas as well as sharing the input of others when i think they have made points eloquently

can you please show me the public polls to support your assertions here...

ah so when a woman disagrees with the PC narrative then she is a 'banshee' but when she agrees with it she is...what...a heroine?

well let me burst your bubble....the PC narrative is all created for you by social engineers who are leading you by your nose into a technocratic prison society
as i said a long time ago this whole 'metoo' thing is really about weaponising allegations so that they can be used for advantage whether political or otherwise:

Tucker challenges Kavanaugh critic

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Old 26-09-2018, 10:37 AM   #660
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The Left’s goal isn’t the protection of women, but the destruction of justice.
September 25, 2018 by IWB

Melissa Danford:

Many also seem willing to abandon all statutes of limitation and questions of jurisdiction. I’m not a lawyer, but as a citizen it is easy to see how this idea is a protection, not an obstruction of justice. Certain agents enforce certain laws, so we can hold various bodies accountable in appropriate ways. Accusations made after certain limits are unreliable and often can no longer be proven. Who wants to go to trial for something that happened so long ago that a fair trial is impossible? We all benefit from statutes of limitation.

As we turn away from these protections for men, what is the logical outcome? If a vindictive woman or ideological zealot in this polarized time decides a man must be silenced, isolated, or otherwise moved out of the way, what protections will he have? What due process will protect the innocent? Should we pretend people, both women and men, do not make false accusations for a whole host of reasons?

I understand that some women have been, still are, and will be abused by men. I imagine every woman knows someone who has suffered in this way. But if we abandon the rule of law in our pursuit of some perfect justice, what will stand in the way when that pursuit comes back around?
http://www.investmentwatchblog.com/t...on-of-justice/
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