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One of my favorite bloggers, Dannyfrom504, posted the following video of Crazy-Girl ® on his blog:

Oh my gosh, girls like her are so fucking freaky in bed it’s a godsend. “Rough sex” is such a gross understatement it’s almost criminal. I had the exquiste pleasure/pain of dating a batshit crazy girl (nicknamed her Ms. Flower-of-Death) like the one in this video just last year — and I’m talking the whole shebang: Bipolar Type II, anger-management, fear-of-abandonment, Daddy Issues galore, Borderline Personality Disorder, ADD, ADHD, ex-Juvie (non-violent, she did a short stint in high school for shoplifting) and…is there a word limit to these posts? I stayed with her for a little over eight months, but by-god they were eight months of the sweetest hell I’ve ever lived in.

And the sex. Oh, the sex. Sweet Lord Almighty, the FUCKING SEX. I would often go into work on Monday’s with enough ‘love-making’ bruises to put Rambo to shame. Among my most memorable sexual exploits with Ms. Flower-of-Death were: rape role-plays of the most scrumptiously violent sort (ski masks, accent and all); once tied her up for an entire weekend (room reeked of puss, ahem…vaginal fluids, for a month); choked her so hard she actually passed out one time; had sex in her sister’s house (sis off to work) and literally broke her living room table in half.

My biggest problem turned out to be that any sex after her became instantaneously bland and boring. Chris Rock said in one of his major comedy specials that “men can’t go backwards sexually, women can’t go backwards in lifestyle.” And man-o-man is that shit true. Old school missionary doesn’t cut it anymore. I mean, yeah, I’ll still get hard and bust a nut on her tits, but it’s not even close to the same emotional and sexual high as crazy-girl sex. But trying to break up with this chick almost got me killed, no joke. That story’s coming up, stay tuned for my next post…

Personally, I prefer hair-pulling when I ride doggy. Choking is much better reserved for tied-up missionary.


For quite a while I was decidedly convinced that the frontlines of military combat were a socio-political frontier that the anus of modern feminism would leave untouched. How possibly could twenty-first century women–the most solipsistic creatures in the history of human civilization–even consider risking their own lives for the safety of their compatriots?

But how dearly mistaken and naive I was. My fallacy? Gullibly assigning the exclusively masculine trait of sincerity to the doughnut-fed bloated feminist beast that calls herself ‘Modern Woman’. no, No, No, No Killer Instinct. They don’t want to actually fight in wars! They want men to keep dying by the thousands but be able to take the credit! They want to shove ‘female military accomplishments’ down the throats of the next generation of grade-school boys–to use blatantly inconspicuous hypocrisy to destroy the self-esteem and mental energies of young men across the globe.

Feminists don’t intend to fight just as they never intended to actually participate in competitive collegiate sports. Yet Title IX was passed with the fervor of the 13th Amendment and each year there’s progressively more clamor from shrill, man-jawed ‘fe’-males for federal funding.


Why do I get the feeling this creature would rather be on her knees fellating my black staff long into the night than fight Afghani terrorists in the secluded caves of Kabul?


But everything I’ve written so far is utterly irrelevant; it’s coming from a man after all. The ‘Modern Woman’ must be admired for the contents of her vapid brain and massive stores of excess adipose tissue. Don’t worry, it’s not as contradictory as you may think. Just watch this video, and trust me, it’ll all make sense: