Sexbots? … You’re Missing The Big Picture

Mostly because you’re thinking with your little head instead of your big head. Its ok. Im worst than most in that regard. Lets think about it for a moment. What is a sexbot? A primitive android. Once androids are finally developed for commercial use, (even if its just for a fucktoy) like all technology, the financial incentive will improve the product dramatically. Its only a matter of time before androids are doing all the labor that I’ve had to do up until now. Ill leave that one for Captain Capitalism. I want to talk about the effects on our very own bodies. Im speaking of course, about Transhumanism.


A lot of folks will cry “conspiracy theory” on me, but I definitely believe that the general public is only allowed to see the tip of the iceberg as far as advanced technology is concerned. As I’m writing this, primitive sensory organ technology is being implanted into humans and working successfully. So far, they’ve been able to develop electronic eyes and ears that work surprisingly well into humans that happen to be impaired in those areas. This leads to the next question… How good could we make it? Whats to stop scientists from developing eyes that can see Neil Armstrong’s footprints? Or ears that can hear, record, and selectively decipher all sounds within a 10 mile radius? Absolutely nothing. If you’re a proud wearer of a tinfoil hat, like me, you would probably assume that its already at least on the drawing board.

Thats just one area. With advanced robotics pretty much anything is possible. Bone implants that are practically impervious to damage. Brain implants that connect directly to the internet and anyone else with an implant. Muscular implants that make you as strong as a fucking gorilla. Self replicating nanobots that patrol the bloodstream for pathogens and toxins. Inspector Gadget don’t look that far-fetched these days huh? As incredible as cybernetics sounds, its only half of the equation.


When was the first cloning experiment done? 1992? But don’t worry. Genetic experimentation on humans was “”banned“”… Holy shit people. Wake up. Remember the story about that kid in the UK with three parents? If the top dogs are willing to taint our entire food supply with deliberate genetic mutation, why would you think they wouldn’t create animal/human hybrids? Anyone who’s ever seen a Captain America, Spiderman, or Hulk movie knows that the idea has been around quite a long time. One of the most popular notions is that we could somehow gain a starfishes ability to regenerate. The guy who figures out how to genetically stimulate hair growth will be a rich man indeed. Right now there are fruitcake scientists out there that want the entire human race to reproduce via test tubes and external wombs. Would you like to grow a nice fluffy luscious fox tail that all the bitches will love? Well then, just come in three times this month to the clinic for your injections. Honestly, the only limit on what could be done is your imagination. Anyone who says that things aren’t going precisely this direction is obtuse as fuck.

The end game

Sorry to sound so grim gentlemen, but the end result of all this is going to be the end of the human race. Its what the elites want. Its what many of the people want. Ask yourself… Why is the media pushing transgenderism so hard? They want you to become inured to the prospect of radically altering your own body. They even want you to become accepting of the whole idea. They want you hungry for powers that a normal human doesn’t have. All you’ve really got to do is think like an evil jewish overlord to see to the bottom of all this. Put yourself in their position at the top and ask the question,

Will these technological advancements and genetic experiments give me an advantage over others?

The answer is a resounding yes. Governments and those in power can’t afford not to look into these areas. If they don’t, someone else will. If I really wanted the entire human race except for my tribe destroyed, I would just create an airborne ebola variant that only my tribe had the vaccine for. Then I would detonate dirty bombs in all major population centers to ensure there was no time for natural resistance to develop.

So there are your two options…

  1. Become a fucked up animal/robot monster.
  2. Die shitting your intestines out.

But hey… At least you got in a few good romps with your sexbot.



Tinder Mishap Leads To Catastrophic Scrotal Injury

Catastrophic might be a little too dramatic a word… But hey, it my scrotum. Any injury to my precious scrotum I consider to be catastrophic.

Tinder was really disappointing me. I created a sock puppet Facebook account just for the damn thing and I wasn’t getting any results. I live nestled in a valley that is pretty much exactly 100 miles from three major (yea right) cities in Montana. So I rightswiped every single woman in those 3 towns, but unless they increased their search radius I was shit-O-L. Its when I visited those towns that the likes would come pouring (yea right) in.

A hit in Helena. Quite plain and rather chubby. Whatever. After the initial “Hey there” I sent a rather curt message explaining myself.

“Heres the deal. I think you’re cute. Im sick of bullshitting all day with girls on this thing and never actually going on a date. lets meet up and have a coffee.”

Easy Peezy. She agreed. I changed the coffee to a beer and drove to town. What followed next was practically non-game. She liked indie bands and I wooed her with my esoteric knowledge on all obscure music. Fed her a shot and two beers and kiss-closed. We went back to her place to fuck. So this is what all those other blogs are talking about with the whole online game thing. Ive done it once, and let me tell ya. I would much rather go hunting the old fashioned way. If you think tinder is fun, well then maybe you can come over later for a fish shooting. I got em piled up in a barrel.

Aaanyway. After I got nice and sweaty in my favorite position, which happens to be ankles at ears and me holding the elbows down to the bed, I looked down. It was like a scene out of a horror film. Blood everywhere. All over my cock and pooled up on her stomach. Does Grody give a shit? Naw man. Its all good in my book. I finally convinced her to go no condom, because condoms suck and they give me a swollen pecker. Other than the blood the only remarkable thing about the encounter was how I finished her off with two solid semen pumps right into her left eyeball. She was a totally good sport about it and laughed it off. At least I have a good range.

I fed her some Wendy’s and took off.

Well, I “forgot” the shower because I like how pussy juice makes my cock all silky smooth. Its like natures lotion. Halfway through the day I began to experience insufferable chaffing. You know… Down there. The hot august day, hay dust, and constant movement had resulted in an awful rash on the left side of my ballsack. I reached down to inspect the wound with my fingers and when I pulled them up… Blood… Not my blood.

So… Actionable advice… Wash ur ballz after sex.

Cross Country Ramblings

Just crossed into Ohio. Wet air carries scent better. Mostly shit. Some armpit. Right now I’m getting French cheese mixed with compost. Back in Indiana it smelled like one of those tutti fruity potion shops in the mall.

I’ve noticed a direct correlation betweenc corn propaganda and overall fatness of the drivers around me. When they talked about corn Fed Midwestern girls, Ididn’t realize they meant 3 five gallon buckets a day… I hear that with soybeans they can now produce biodiesel at 99% efficiency. Good luck with that last 1.01%… Dumbasses.

Iowa city was basically utopia. Have mom and dad pay tuition while you work out, drink your face off, and spit game at biddies. My cousinis studying madarin at the U there. He never gets any play.

Well, on to Akron. I should probably watch therroad.

The Bastard Spawn Chronicles: Chapter 5 Pearls Before Swine

I was five years old.


He just looked at me expectantly.

“Santa Clause isn’t real, is he?”

He just looked at the ground… I knew then that it was all bullshit. The tooth fairy. The easter bunny. Leprechauns, witches, goblins, dragons, angles, demons, and Gods… Fictions to keep us entertained. Nothing more.

At the end of 2013 I had finally had enough of the Bakken Oil fields. I figured they could keep their money. A part of me knew that I needed all the tranquility I could get if I was going to break free of my addictions. Ever since my involuntary trepanning I had begun to view “reality” in an entirely different manner. In hindsight a part of me was disappointed that I had stared the possibility of death in the face, and found my existence so meaningless that I honestly didn’t care if I woke up or not from the anesthesia. In short, I was looking for meaning.

What is my part in all of this? Whats the point? I remember asking my uncle in earnest. “Is it just my job to work and take care of a woman? To raise kids? Is that all I’m here for?” He told me, unceremoniously “Yeah, pretty much.”

I started reading as much as I could online. It didn’t take me long to discover that the entire world was ruled with an iron fist by a handful of the greediest most dastardly bastards that ever lived. Basically, the bad guys ran the entire world. Wow, this shit was even worse than I thought. The depression grew and my drug use got worse. I stared having obsessive thoughts about the nature of the universe. If it was all the shitty and meaningless, the why couldn’t the entire universe be an empty black void? Not black… Cause black is something. Im talking about nothing. 

Why couldn’t everything just be nothing?

It just so happened that after I had had these dismal thoughts there was a program on the history channel that night that described in detail what would happen if a massive asteroid hit the earth.

Once that image had flashed on the screen I remember thinking about how nice that would actually be. Hah! Everyone dies in a giant fireball. Awesome. I seriously did not give one shit about the entire world. Thats when I heard it.


That was the first time I had ever heard a disembodied voice… It was loud. It was unmistakable. It didn’t stutter. It was clear as day. The only quality I could really give it is a sort of shimmering in the way it spoke. What was that? The only one I’ve ever heard of that could do something like that and have a motivation for saying those words would be… No. Not possible. There had to be some explanation for this whole wretched universe, and I was going to find it.

I wasn’t going to find the answers with people. That much was obvious. Looking around it was exceedingly apparent that most people were even more clueless than I was. I picked up my roommates deck of Tarrot Cards. He caught me the basic technique of reading them, and I started my interrogation. I looked at the symbols and did my best to interpret them. After a while they started to take on a lot more meaning than they originally had… After a while… I was reading the cards without even having them. Having conversations…

I drove the beat up hay truck and rickety wagon filled with swamp grass up the steep, curving reservoir road. I don’t remember how the conversation started, but I do remember the significant part.

“Oh I get it! Just be a good little slave! A workhorse. Just run the ranch, marry a woman, raise kids, and go to motherfucking church on Sundays! Bah!”

“Whats so bad about that?”

I realized that the very thing I was railing against was the very thing that every man (who’s really being honest with himself) desired. The american dream. I changed my tone quickly.

“I would do it for her…”

I was picturing a girl I had met in college. A quiet, warm, peaceful, and pleasant girl. She had a loving face and awesome tits.

*Mirthful laughter* “She’s a good christian girl!”

“Yeah? So?”

“You’re a piece of shit! It doesn’t work like that man…”

I tried to say more but the conversation was over. By now it had become obvious that there was more going on in the world than what the five classical senses could observe. I got home and got out the Tarrot deck. At this point it was now more of a formality than anything.

“Who are you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. It does. Stop messing with me.”

I shuffled the deck. Cut it. Put the card off the top under the deck. Then, I drew a card.

No. no… No! no. no no no no no no….

Not possible. Anything but… that. It seems stupid now… But I actually had faith in atheism. I was going to find my answers. In anyway except for… … God.

I looked online and found a meditation technique for divining answers and opening the third eye. That was when the nightmares started. The harassment. The constant stress. I was beset by an enemy.

It wan’t all bad though. I found that in addition to being constantly ridiculed and shit on… I could communicate with more than just spirits. When people thought of me, wanted my presence, wanted me sexually, I knew. I could see it, feel it, hear it. Thats right. Im talking about… Telepathy. Mind to mind communication.

It became clear to me that my family and friends thought about me quite a bit. They loved me. Whatever that meant. But there was one face I didn’t recognize. A black guy with a shaved head. He looked like a typical darker American African. Like, coffee colored. I only mention his skin color because I don’t have any black friends. I live in central Montana. The amount of black people I talk to in an entire year wouldn’t fill a small gas station. About the third time seeing someone I didn’t know in my minds eye I asked…

“Ok, I give up. Who’s the black guy?”

“Thats my son.”

“Yeah? And who are you?”

“Who do you think, dummy?”

Im a really slow learner, but it was starting to sink in. I left for college (round two! ding ding!) that fall. I became so frustrated with women, and people in general, that I cried out to the sky.

Morpheus?! Im ready for the red pill now!”

That night I found Bold and Determined. Followed by The Rational Male. A miracle. I cried out, and I was answered. I was starting to get it. I found the reactionary sphere of the internet was a lot more friendly to the Judaeo Christian god than any other place I had ever been. I had finally come around. The proof of creation was in front of my face the entire time, but I refused to see it.

That afternoon I was eating dinner in the mess hall. Alone, like usual. One of the food service workers sat down across the table from me. He was black, with a shaved head. He introduced himself as Immanuel. He asked if I was a Christian. I knew then who he was then. A representation. A man used as a messenger. We had a short conversation about some of the more common misinterpretations in the bible.  He explained to me that the reason that the hebrews wandered in the desert for 40 years was because they saw the wonders of God repeatedly with their own eyes… But refused to follow his instructions…

I returned to my room and relented.

God… is God.

And I just wanted him to leave me the fuck alone.