Friday, February 1, 2019

Home, and sitting by the fire - cup of leftover coffee warming on the woodstove.

Earlier, while on the bus, had quickly backed out of a misog-blog.  There was a picture ... gross.  No.  Way more like pathetic. Uh, that 20-something woman, humiliating herself like that... Oh sure, she's getting some $$$ for that.  But the question is: how long is that going to last!  And oh sure, there are women who pose, and are very aware that hotness is fleeting; so they sock away plenty of money to carry them (reasonably) comfortably from 30-something to 80-something.

Newsflash: savers, of any position description, are in the minority.  Routine expenses (utilities, medical, housing) are priced to absorb late or non-payers.  The taxi-driver who got me home the other day (Husband's heart condition, not wise to be out in this weather - driving and getting impatient.) strongly preferred cash, not credit.  The western shop, down the road, same policy.  Cash.  Evidently, lots of bad credit out there.

So, that women doin' th' ... Ew!  There's a greater probability, that Number #1  her handler is stealing her money, if not having already gotten her hooked on drugs/beating her up for ... basically, no reason - except getting off beating up young women.  And Number #2, she is likely to not only break her face when slamming into that "wall" - ya know, the wall that dUHrock and chatty-heartLESS wax totally gleeful blogging/commenting about - that poor woman will likely smack into that wall, earlier than the normal mid-thirties.  And Number #3, that woman - and many like her - are courting years of impoverished middle and elderly age (if they even survive the beatings, the overdoses, health problems, poverty, despair).

Meanwhile, misog-bloggers - and their Handler (from the Pit) - continue to spread pathetic slander/defamation of character.  What they claim is: fat, old, plain women are just jealous of pretty young women.  A blanket statement.  Thing is: the blanket they use, never gets washed; it has (Ew!) stains on it.  And these jerks continue to wrap themselves in it.

Well no wonder Aunt Edna complains,  whenever she comes down the steps to do her laundry, or look for a tool to fix her lawn-mower.

Battery low, gots to go.

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