Poor Pussy Cat

Greetings,

Boredom breeds laziness, but what breeds boredom? Good Question. Perhaps the simple answer is fear.

What is fear? Just to love, the one you think of and they then run away from you, not allowing you to? Perhaps.

I was going to explain the origin of the phrase "Not so lucky, Pierre" which my name gave weight to.

Well, it is the cri de coeur of the unlucky in love, of which I am the most I know. I have fallen to love and lost.

I have tried to reach out and been rejected.

Ah that the most painful curse of all as you reveal yourself to your most naked core and are still found wanting. How do you, how can you feel then?

So fuck dating websites.

What is left? Well the infinite flaws of oneself, which of course, you are not unaware.

But then? Are you not a person of some interest? Do you not have redeeming features? So why be rejected?

I know not.

When one tries to find love and is rejected, one can be as I was and at least one can say; "Not so lucky, Pierre!" As luck favors those who pertain towards it...

Perhaps it is best to pour yet more into the glass and think no more of it.



Pierre

Nurture not Nature...

Waiting for something worth posting...this isn't it.

I remember a conversation I had with an ex...

Her: "Bisson, where are our children?"

Me: "Ehh, here and thereabouts on the bed sheet dearest, in fact if you get an extra strong microscope you can see them better. Look our eldest is doing front and backstroke. He'll be an Olympic champion that one..."

Her: "Would they not be better in my vagina?!"

Me: "But that's where they become really expensive my love!"

Her: "You pulled out as you came, you fucking..."

And that's all I remember of that conversation, but that was quite a later relationship and you can see why that ended. I was too far gone then.

I tried Plenty of Fish quite a few times before that. What happens on POF is one out of over 99,000 girls you contact actually answers your email for which you've had to debase and humiliate yourself completely to send, which is exactly how you feel when they don't respond. Self-respect? Had to look that up in a dictionary and I haven't had it since I was five years old anyway.

The ones that do...it turns out you rather they hadn't. What happens is you meet a girl and she expels a small mass of tobacco into a spittoon, pushes her stetson up to get a good look at you and speaks to you in that fine western, Arizona drawl that all girls have.

"That's a real purty heart yeh got thar..."

You nod your head, albeit in fearful agreement. She will spit out another spume of tobacco and then resume her considered remarks.

"Real purty...Actshually that lil 'ol heart looks real fine in that chest cavity...but would look even bettah if Ah rip it outta there, throw it to the ground and stamp on it continuous laike...then it'll look real beautyfull in mah trophai cabinet..."

At this point you shake your head fiercely in fearful disagreement but you know it's all too late for that, cos she spits out her last wad of tabaccy and comes for yeh. Some of them don't even bring their own spittoons and you're left with a horrendous carpet cleaning bill.

Now that was POF, but you'll have exactly the same experience on OK Cupid, Match.com, Tinder and so on. Just the stetsons tend to vary.

I've been ripped to pieces over love and relationships since I was 20 anyway. I'm quite fed up with it by now. It's like getting ripped to pieces by wild dogs but you've got to stitch yourself together each time and your needlework is getting worse every time, really bad and there's always material left over. If you're in a monastery and you ever get a twinge of 'what if?', don't. Brother, you took the easy way out.

Actually as I race towards middle age I have found that past experience has tended to heighten my standards. Now, for example, I will ask myself a question like this;

'Is this woman as good as or better than "No Other", the album by Gene Clark?'

'Erm...better than "Life's Greatest Fool"...? Possibly, though I've had my self-respect trod on more than I have listened to that song...'

'Ok...is she as good as "Strength of Strings?'

'BAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! Are you serious?? There hasn't been the woman born!!'

'What about "Some..."

'You seriously need to shut up now, this is the stupidest internal conversation I've ever had.'

And that is the lesson I've learnt the hard way. Girlfriends are great, don't get me wrong but they will never, ever be as great as good music. That will never leave you, it will always break your heart only in a good way and is always there when you're heart has been broken by some nasty human.

So get a monastery with a good sound system and you're set for life!



Bisson

Morons of the Brattish Isles unite!

Howzit going dere?

They have an extradition treaty with the Caymen Islands...oh spiffing! So I ran back here.

I was foaming with rage in the sun since the new year as we lose good men and the shit-talkers still rule the world. What's the latest fib then?

Oh, Derek 'Daave' Camerunt's Ma apparently would say "Put on a suit, do up your tie and sing the national anthem". Oooh would she?! Sounds like it was a laugh a minute in your house when you grew up, Derek, no wonder you turned out so fucked up.

We get the suit/tie/anthem shit for the first 20 years of our lives and those of us with sense tell this type of empty pointless gunge to get to fuck and stop jamming up our brains with its pointlessness. So get to fuck Daave, which in your case means SERIOUSLY FUCK OFF.

Anway Daave's Ma never said that. What she did say to him was:

"Dear Cunt, stop cunting around with our vital public services you stupid cunt. Should never have sat on the bed after your father cracked one off on the eiderdown and I became pro-abortion after I squeezed you out, you smooth faced cunt. You fucked my piss-flaps forever more with that over sized cunt of a head of yours. Fuck you.
Signed Mrs Cameron aka deeply sorry mother of a dozy cunt."

Quote her correctly next time Daave, she's on the money.

Meanwhile in Amerikkka...

A comb-over shows us with enough money you can buy an election but are still too cheap to get a decent hair transplant. What the over-comb plans to do is, like all American dreams, lifted from Germany in 1945. He wants to build showers for any non-white people still left in the country after he buys his way into the White House as he thinks if you're not white, then you must be dirty. Only his trick is they are not actually real showers...

You think this is the end of the world? Nah that already happened in 2008. Or maybe it was 1980...

 We're fucked anyway in case you didn't guess.

Bisson



Ps: Learn the national anthem, before it's too late!