Why divorce laws "favor" the wife. Red-pills won't trouble themselves to comprehend,

it's the wife who's career path gets sidetracked for the progress of her husband's.   Just two or three years after Stephanie returned to full-time work - because she and Robert's kids had reached school-age - Steph's future with the insurance company was looking up; they liked her, because she did a good job.  Well, Rob's employer liked his work also; so they promoted him. 

Downside is: the position is like three states away.  While Rob can work from home, he can't always work from home.  So, the family pulls up stakes.  It's not like Steph will have much trouble finding another job, but being the new kid on the block.  Yep, here we go again.

Before their two kids were born, the couple had relocated from one county to another, because Rob had decided to change to a better job.  The little office, where Steph had worked as a receptionist, were sorry to see her go; she was sorry too.  Not so much of restarting at less pay - still young, she had time - but a new job meant being around strangers.  But moving a county or two over, verses to what might as well be a foreign country...

Bruh, barely November, and already, wind and rain, a half degree from sleet.  The family had arrived in early October; their two children were moving on with things; the eldest had, a few evenings ago, gone to a sporting event with two classmates.   Their younger?   That would take some time.  Steph barely had suppressed a laugh, at the younger's comment.

"Mom, they all look like sherman tanks, and sound like honking horns!" 

Just then, while Steps was filing some documents, Bernice rounded the corner, nearly colliding into Steph - and just keeping on going, as if nobody was around those set of cabinets.  Yikes, that woman had to have weighed the best end of 300 pounds - and most of that, muscle; within the woman's workspace were hockey pictures, galore; she must have birthed most an entire team.  

Bernice was the alpha female; her sidekick, shirley, was a petite 200 some pounds, of similar brawn.  Steph, just kept her nose to the grindstone, and kept her distance.  She valued her job; though she earned not even half of what her husband provided, still, forty-some k, did enable extra funds for things like paying ahead their mortgage, an extra cd or bond toward their kids' college and toward the couple's old age.  And, in the real world, for most people, working for someone else, paid better.  

Rob was for real; it was his idea, and his pocket, that paid for someone to come in and clean twice weekly; thus freeing up time for Steph to be a wife, a mother, and be herself.  Steph had gone to college to study dress design, and through this so-called worthless degree, she had made her own wedding dress - basic and twenty-some yards beautiful.  Their church ceremony had been just family, a few close friends - bell and whistle free; the couple wanted their money to go for things, like cash-paid furniture, an emergency - or oopps - fund.  

While Steph was skilled at making dresses - and they were top-notch, turn 'em inside out, and ya get the picture.  Thing is: customer base.  Number One:  good luck with countering the yoga-pants climate, and number two: per the real materials, and the time that goes into lined garments, people squawked at $80, for garments worth more like $300-400.   Still, she made slips and dresses for herself - good way to keep the skill up, and besides, the clothing stores were a sick, a sad, joke.

"Puah, they were lame in your gramma's day."  Steph's boomer mom would cackle.

Ten o'clock breaktime couldn't come soon enough, though still being the new kid on the block, she - for some reason, she didn't quite understand - had to wait until 10:30.  When half past finally arrived, she entered the breakroom to make herself a cup of hot tea.  The holidays, being but a few weeks away, still, the table had upon it, what looked like the remaining third to half of a b-day sheetcake, from gowen-bla-bla-meister's bakery, a plate of assorted homemade cookies, part of a bag of hard pretzels, and a sizable sliced cheese and sausage platter - what was with all the animal products, anyway.   While the new kid, Steph had been on-board long enough to realize, whatever the calendar day, wasn't relevant; there was always a mini buffet - sans any fruit and veggies, she didn't bring in.

"A large meatball, two philly cheesesteaks, and a large ham boli." A voice from a nearby cube called in an order.  Gad zooks! steph shook her head.

Then did a double take, at what was going on outside.  Her jaw dropped alittle as she stepped toward the window.  "My stars!"  Her words poured out a soft moan.

"What?"

A voice behind her queried, while pudgy, but sturdy hands began loading a plate.  The voice sounded like the same person who had just called in an order that would be delivered within an hour and a half.

"Ba-but, it's ... it's too early...for this."

Outside the snow had already covered the thin layer of ice and rain.  In the distance, whitish gray clouds assembled - more like ganged up, along the mountains, as if waiting for the right moment to start the rumble.  

The woman, with plateful in hand, guffled, then said something like "HA! waid'elwintercomes."  She guffled again, and waddled away.

Steph continued, for a moment, staring out the window.  Somehow she knew, there'd be no early dismissal.  Probe status wouldn't end till late spring, so asking to take leave, well that wouldn't leave a good impression.  So dark and dingy outside; by five o'clock, some fifteen miles of even more so.  

Barb was unpacking the two bags of groceries she had picked up, on her way in from work. One of the bags

had contained a small bottle of laundry soap, a roll of paper towels - because certain people think they grow on trees.  She recalled, having mistakenly thinking she'd been lonely, how things lasted while living solitary; a roll of paper towels lasted...well actually, a few months.  Now she was buying them nearly every week.  While she wasn't one to bite her nails in the checkout line, she'd seen a program back in middle school about landfills; and that stuck...in drainage systems, especially after heavy storms.  The next item she pulled from the bag, had come as a pleasant surprise; of all places, she found the paperback in the grocery store's book and magazine section.  It was some 800 pages of corporate intrigue; the dep direc and one of the other sups were talking about it, the other week, before the staff meeting had gotten underway.  She glanced at the book's cover, then wrinkled her face.  Not tonight, she'd be on her laptop.  Overtime.  While rank-and-files could skate off at their shift's end, not so for management.  

"Ja get any chips?" The too familiar voice called from the livingroom, amid a muffled volley of bullets.  "No."  Without looking up, she pulled four apples, three nutri-bars, a head of cauliflower and a pound of burger from the remaining bag.  "Wha, why not?"  Doofus whined.  "Because I don't need to have that kind of stuff around."  Barb responded while opening up the burger package.  "Well, you don't have to eat them."

"Excuse me??"  Barb put out cold,  Doofus's gaslamp before any spark could catch.  Sure, she'd always been a sensative about her weight.  Strange, how, of all reasons to do something about it, took a rather unusual form.  

Some 1,900 square feet; more than what she wanted, but Barb didn't want to have to commute thirty miles, one way, for 1,400 sq.  She chuckled inwardly at the reactor's counter.  "The small bedroom would be handy for storage."  Never mind, the rancher had a full basement, with a bar - though Barb rarely drank.  And double never mind, she didn't have any storage...no wait, there was a three foot Christmas tree, and a few wicker baskets sitting in the ground floor storage cage, that came with each unit.

More house than she needed, still, it was a cute mid 1960s structure, in good repair, and the location meant only driving fiveish extra miles to work - on a country road that went by a mennonite-owned dairy and grocerette.  The yard was 2.5 acres, and had on it, a tall oak; near the other corner, a mulberry tree.  While the wooden shed was, somewhat ragged, a coat of paint would work just fine.  Inside, neatly hung a few tools and a lawn tractor, which looked as if it hadn't been used in awhile.  In the midst of the 15-footish enclosure, stood a half dilapidated picnic table;upon it, sat a chainsaw, and various parts.  The soon to be ex-owner was an elderly guy, who had decided - after slipping on some ice, while wrestling with a snowblower - it was time to move along.

Must inhale to be old, and no longer able to maintain things, Barb had pondered.  From what the man's son, or son-in-law, had been saying, the old man was stuck in rehab, and would likely have to end his days in a senior community.   So yeah - being no spring chicken, herself, Barb's decision to get the weight off, and keep it off, was because of a man.    Possessing a house meant rooms - a few more than she had planned - and a yard to keep up.  While her budget could support lawncare and snow removal service, the snow guys have other customers, and can't be at your place at 7am - when she's about ready to head to the office.  

Preacher has a point, he said, on one of his podcasts, that women are being phased out.

Thought of what he said...and by the way, he pastors a real church, where people go to a building to hear him preach from the KJB.  Anyway, what he said, hit me with a brick, just a few moments ago.  Ready for church, the dress i have on, came from a catalog.  Women's clothing made of real fabric is hard enough to find, good luck finding long dresses, made of the same.  While a certain catalog has beautiful long dresses, with LOTS :) of skirt :) most are made from recycled soda bottles.  And the average price for those "woven rayon" dresses is about $130.  Seriously, while not having alot of money, if those were offered in natural fabrics, but they charged significantly more, i would be on that...like a hefty bag on garage cleaning day.   Anyway, somehow hit paydirt - they had a long white cotton sundress, with cute little cap sleeves to wear under a sleeveless Bailey dress.  Can do the same with the long sleeveless denim dress from another catalog vendor.  Needless to say, take good care of stuff, and jump into distressed stuff upon getting home.  And very needful to say, wearing slips preserves outer clothing.  YEAH!  Good luck finding cotton slips and half slips, with adequate skirt panels.  So, make my own.  

Okay, all that said.  Here's the important part of this post.  Most women have neither the time, nor the skill - which takes time, and space, to acquire - to sew their own duds.  Forget the mall, let alone wallyville...would be nice to just get in the car and head into town, and try on the stuff.  But it's all junk - even in the skinny department.   And by the way, skinny girls like plenty of fabric too - ever wonder why prom season is a money-maker?  Yep, you guessed it, the slender young lovlies get to wear stuff they really like; but, oh my goodness, to admit such, would be too feminine.

In concluding this post...yard work to get done, people talk about the last days/nations under the Lord's judgment.  Women, our very nature...ya know, the way the Lord, the King of kings, designed us.  Well, doesn't sit well these days (if ever); it's like women are expected to look and think like men, but sport big boobies...baphomet.

"Howbeit thou art just in all that is brought upon us; for thou hast done right, but we have done wickedly."   Nehemiah 9:33

Thinking about Sarah's situation - about giving up hope that she and her husband, Abraham, would ever be parents.

When Sarah decided to give her handmaid, Hagar, to Abraham, Sarah's bio-clock was ticking like big ben - if she wasn't already going through the change-of-life...  She was in her mid 70s - they lived longer back then.  i believe, per a few chapters later in Genesis, that Sarah was approaching menopause, because, when she was 90, and beyond the time of women, she laughed out loud when the three angels stopped in for lunch, and one had said, she'd have a son.  (1st half of Genesis 18)   So, would make sense to believe, somewhere between 76 and 90, she no longer needed to add kotex (or midol) to her shopping list.

Anyway, it was right after sodom and gomorrah (Genesis 13:10 describes prime real estate) were destroyed - by brimstone and fire from the sky (Genesis 19:24), the couple and company had broken camp, and relocated to a place called Gerar.   Did they need to get away from the brimstony smell?  Was it getting into their water, flour, clothing?  Asking, because the area of sodom had been "well watered" ; so, can only imagine the hot sulfur and steam - yuk.  Abraham, per Genesis 19:28, saw the smoke in the distance, and probably got a whiff - pee-double-uweee :/

Anyway, Abimelech, the king of Gerar, took a fancy to Sarah, and put her in his harem.  Maybe, he had a thing for older women ; or maybe he was simply amazed at how such a woman her age (like early 50s today) could be so good looking.  Kings back then, collected women - sort of like fine paintings, or rare baseball cards.  While i don't know Abimelech's age, am going to guess - just for the sake of what happened later - that the king was a few years younger than Sarah.  Let's say, the king was 80.

Now, forty years later, Sarah's son, Isaac, and her daughter-in-law, Rebekah, had relocated to gerar - because of a famine.  Well guess what!  Abimelech, if it was the same Abimelech - Bible doesn't say son of, or Abimelech, Jr. - happened to look out the window and see the couple smooching (Genesis 26:8).  If it's the same King, then he would have been 120 years old, maybe younger, maybe older, but well up in years, by our standards today.  

All's i know is, Roman's 1:20 basically says, all you have to do is take a look around, to see that God is real.  As for the longer life spans, per the Bible - which is evidence enough, thankyoukindly - evidently, there's something to those old "myths"...about this or that chinese king ruling for a 100 years.  

"Now Abraham and Sarah were old and well stricken in age; and it ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women."  Genesis 18:11

Veggie pizza, Doofus scowled at the box, sitting on Barb's counter top. She had brought it with her from work,

and it didn't look like she was going to make anything for supper; she had said something about having had a big lunch - something about someone getting a promotion.  At present, she was in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of tea, while gabbing on the phone.  

"Yep...I was surprised, but not..."  She turned her head toward the couch, then spoke into her phone.  "I'll tell you later."   Their conversation continued, to another, but not too unrelated a topic.  "Been seriously starting to think about it, doesn't make sense to continue...and having nothing to show..."  

A snowplow went scraping by.   A voice from the corridor exclaimed to someone else, either coming or going, how the Carolinas are looking better and better.   Doofus was growing a bit irritated with the noisy neighbors - which they were not - and with the muted conversation going on in the kitchen - of course, unaccompanied by a clatter of a skillet or saucepan.   

With clicker in hand, he surfed through five or six channels, all but two were playing commercials.  The one station had a brady bunch rerun, and the other was some stupid geology channel.  Why Barb put up with such a lame program plan; never mind, about the only thing Barb watched was either the geology or the weather channel - strings of five and six commercials, running every ten minutes, didn't seem to bother her; she just kept on knitting...whatever.  A corner peeked out of the canvas tote, parked alongside her recliner.  Either a scarf or a panel for a cousin's baby; the cousin had stopped in the other day - whadda BLIMP, doofus smirked.

Barb then interjected into her phone something about jeanine not being able to join them tomorrow afternoon.  Weren't they a bit old, and FAT for sledding? He opined to himself - and kept those scoffings to himself; after all, february isn't the season to be hitting the sofa-surf.  

She then continued with the previous thread, "like I'm getting any younger?" she laughed, stirring her tea.  "They're all mcmansions...like, what would I do with..." "Booshh!"  Whatever it was, the brushy thud came from the upstairs neighbors.  "...half mil...oh yeah, good deal, if you have children...nope!"  She then said something about a shower - one with soap and water - but before she could hear what her friend was saying - something about towels...

"Hey, you got something to eat around here?  I'm hungry!"

"There's some tuna casserole in the frig..."  but before she could mention there was also some chicken pot pie (she had made the other day) he cut in, "I don't do casseroles."

"Well..." she responded, and headed to the bedroom, shutting the door.  A few moments later came the whoosh of the shower.  Doofus arose, and nuked - on max - the soup container - making a spatter, and a dent to the container.  He reached in the cupboard for the crackers, tore open a sleeve, and crunched about half of it into the plastic dish - and more than some onto the counter.  He muttered a curse; she needed to buy a new nuke, one that didn't take %&:# forever to heat stuff up.  

Barb's towled head and thickly robed back was in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess.  She then, quickly, grabbed the empty bowl, and a snack cake wrapper, or two - from one of the vending machines in the common room.  He didn't have to see the look on her face; he knew, he wasn't getting any tonight.  

With a hardcover tucked under her ample arm, she headed into the bedroom.  Doofus, again, reached for the clicker.

Oh brother, women getting slammed again. This time, for stopping at the drive-thru.

Well yeah, tommy's karate is at 7:30, and it's going on 5:45; the school, of course is the best end of ten miles, in the other direction.  So yeah, mom might have time to throw a load in the washer; the other two will have to wait, till she can clock out from her chauffeur shift.  Maybe, since the weather is nice, she may have a few minutes to run the weed-whacker.  Why isn't you-know-who keeping up with that?  Dear Reader, she's long quit requesting :/   Funny though, a bit of hedge trimming, and whatever else a riding mower isn't designed to get done, would supplement you-know-who's supposed exercise program.  Ha!  The only programs happening, are on the tv; aided by the remote and a bowl of chips or ice-cream.

And she's told, she's the one with a pyramid problem.  Yeah, the lady could stand to offload 40 pounds, but "pyramid?"  Not only an exaggeration, but evidence of you-know-who's willfully wicked (and LAZY) mindset.  If you-know-who, was for real, he'd do some of the chauffeuring and such - thus freeing some time for her to go hit the gym or participate in an aerobics class (something she had enjoyed, that is before ending up as, really, not much more than a pack-mule).  

Red-pills are quick to go on about women not cooking.  Well, besides the time involved in preparation, and clean up, she's about checked out from the criticism; there's plenty of healthy casseroles, which are also time-friendly, but you-know-who makes rabbit-food remarks.  Meat and taters several nights per week, are his preference - well atleast without too much carping.  Yeah, like she has nothing better to do, than serve up, then clean up, a flipping restaurant.

Traffic isn't too heavy, but people, and their stupid arse left turns, are a time-drain.  Why not just go a block down the street, turn into the bank parking lot, and go from there - would save everybody's time...perish the thought ;/   ChickenPlanet atleast had salads that you could, atleast partially, taste the veggies.  She was, maybe, a quarter mile from the take-out, when ... snap. 

She forgot to stop at little-big-box and pick up ink cartridges.  Instead of swearing they get smaller with each printer - with a slightly larger "pyramid" price - she almost began cursing herself...ya know, repeating what she's been told, all along.   And yeah, there'd be drama - uh-huh, like yellowstone will blow tonight, because magenta is out, and blue is headed that way.

But she didn't.  Instead, a bit of simple logic entered her "pea brain" - logic, that even someone who was actually borderline retarded, could grasp.  She used that printer - in feburary, for taxes, that was about it.  And the colored ink lasted, maybe two or three weeks.  So, why the last minute; and why were the cartridges - among, too many other things - her problem?  

Some disturbing, yet validating, video posts. A few women had spoken up.

Had thought they were the problem.  Well, as life has it, evidently, these ladies began taking a look around, and realizing...wait a sec, i work, pay my own way, take care of  the kid/s, things around the house, and all along, make a concerted effort to not inconvenience anyone - never mind being jerked around, in all directions.  Hhmm, but it's not enough.  Maybe, just maybe, though very imperfect ... can ya spell, "human condition?"  Maybe, it's a matter of work-ethic, and ethics in general - some have it...and many, clearly do NOT!!

In short, these ladies are waking up to the reality, they're simply doing what they're supposed to do, being as the Lord God created them...ya know, marriage, children and home.  Oh, perish the thought, but perhaps these ladies aren't the problem.  Meanwhile, the red-pills, and their toadies, smugly reply, pick better.  Yeah, good luck with that.

The business world is also having trouble, "picking better."  TradesMEN in their 60s and 70s are retiring - because, after 40, 50 years of crawling around damp dusty areas to replace pipe and wiring ...  Businesses are having trouble finding younger men to hire and promote.  While some women are stepping up, most women aren't designed to lug bulky equipment up staircases, climb poles, craw through AC passages, load pallets, and drive 12 hours straight... go argue with God himself on that one.  Oh, and if you're wondering why the store is out of...whatever, again, in order for drivers to bring the stuff, an active CDL is a requirement; one sure fire way to lose it, or not get hired, is having a DUI/drug charge on record.  Same goes with nurses, and atleast some, public school employees - which is why Anita wouldn't even take one puff off a joint.   

Last year, there was a staff meeting meeting at work; subject was the opioid crises.  Was shocked, at what the findings were.  Most the misuse of these drugs was mainly from one gender.   And i thought opioids, being pain pills, would mostly be overly popped by women ... ya know, we gals are wimps and all :)

"And in that day seven women shall take hold of one man, saying, We will eat our own bread, and wear our own apparel: only let us be called by thy name, to take away our reproach."  Isaiah 4:1

"Nevertheless, to avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, and let every woman have her own husband.

Let the husband render unto his wife due benevolence : and likewise also the wife unto the husband."  1 Corinthians 7:2-3

During the 1980s, stores carried adult items. Really, adult, not stupid toys.

The grocery store actually stocked their shelves with apothecary jars, made from glass; the grocer also kept a nice stock of 100% cotton tea towels and dish rags - white ones too.  And yeah, they had nice candles.  They also carried brooms made from genuine straw; the sponge mops were actual sponge (ya know, from the sea), the dry mops were made from cotton.  In addition, if you needed an iron, a coffeepot, or a toaster - and if they were out, all you had to do was go next door, to either the drug store, or - if desperate enough - the five and dime.  Granted, the poor-store wouldn't carry the fancy curtain rods, but you weren't needing fancy.  They did just fine.  The pyrex bowls were nice; they came with lids, not of plastic, but the same pyrex glass.  You could even buy a non-coated skillet.

Though not on your list, you'd remembered, needing some sewing needles, and a spool of green thread; no they didn't have the exact shade you'd wanted, but hey, the shade was okay to attach the button on that walking-around coat - made from cloth, imagine that :/  Btw, two or more of the area's fabric stores, weren't but a few miles, but you'd been pressed for time.  And yeah, these items were marked up, more than bread or bactine, but isn't it amazing how clean living - regardless of the decade - creates it's own financial margin.

Looking back, it was as if stores were focused upon adults who were focused upon home and family life.  But of course, back then, there were more housewives - women who didn't have their own car, so running half ragged all the way over to ... wherever, for a freaking pastry fork, wasn't happening.  Housewives, being dependent on their husband's income, didn't have much money either, so these customers had to be smart, buy things that would last.

Thing was, local stores didn't have the floor space, like the semi/big-boxes of today.  Much of which is hogged up with items, which will very soon, end up in the landfill - probably not long after the credit card bill arrives.  And by the way, food items keep better in glass - which is probably why plastic is being pushed. 

Reprobates be reprobates :/

Uh-o, doofus is mad now. It all started, last tuesday, late morning.

Was a typical tuesday, around a quarter past eleven am.  Oh, but the weather outside was beautiful, sunny and 65.  Pennsylvania's Septembers were lovely - it was the following few months...not so. There's nothing like the smell of freshly cut grass; from outside - that is, had doofus cared to notice - came the sound of a truck engine and the rattle of a trailer - carefully loaded with lawn care equipment - leaving the property.  A typical tuesday, the two men - a father and son - usually were headed for their next customer around this time.  They always did such a nice job.

But doofus didn't care to appreciate that either; he had other things on his mind.  Number one: a nice healthy dump, followed by breakfast.  He grabbed his phone and called in an order for two ham and egg sandwiches, homefries, a chocolate mega-muffin and a large soda.  Per the delivery fees and such, the meal ran about $30 - that didn't include the tip, however.  Doofus, reached for his wallet; he scowled, rolling his eyes, $3 was enough, if the [gosh darn]  dude in the dented datsun didn't like it, he could find another job.  

The delivery time was estimated at 45 minutes.  What took them so &="> long!  Firing up his laptop, he went to work.  Call of duty, from the comfort of his couch - well, actually, the green one, which used to be upstairs.  The one aunt elma, several years ago, had her son, jimmy, move to the basement - along with the coffee table.   Yep, too many memories, Elma's husband, Ralph, had passed in '05.  

While busy, considering his next maneuver, a warning message interrupted his progress.  He grumbled out a few choice words; he knew the nature of the warning; he was near the limit.  His next dash would have to come from his other card - uh, which was getting up there too.  He grumbled about the ridiculous costs of things, and of course, with the typical blasphemy or two thrown in.

The packaging of his meal lay upon the crowded coffee table, amid some packaging from a previous meal.  Alongside, a full waste-can waited, in vain, to be emptied.  Trashday was yesterday.  No matter, aunty - having some trouble getting around - seldom used her basement stairs - and so, relieving him from hearing one of her nag sessions. What th' &#÷$  did she know about the job market anyway?  The old sow was a retired gubment worker.  (Never mind, about anyone was eligible to take a civil service test, and apply themselves.  Oh wait, doofus had a theft on his record, so there wasn't much point, going there.)

Movement caught his eye.  He looked up from his screen.  The sunlight from a dusty window, briefly brought to mind, a previous nag session.  Seriously, what th' ef was the big #*%÷ deal about the $"^& windows!  This time, however, the rather diffused rays, caught the gleam of a shoe buckle, as the pant leg followed by another descended the steps.   Edna took the nearest almost empty chair, paused a moment, then said something about things needing picked up.  Needful to say, the old woman's right ankle was swollen - staying off of it?  Easier said than done.  Edna liked accomplishing, and not bothering others in the process - wasn't like jimmy, or the neighbor  didn't have their own things to look after.

The old cow could stand to lose a few pounds, he grumbled to himself (never mind his tee and sweats fit a bit snug around his middle).   The old woman, again spoke.  Her brief sentence shocked him - though, had he been paying atleast partial attention to things outside of his awesome self...  Three days ago, auntie sold the house, and was looking forward to living in that cute condo in south carolina - where there was no snow and ice to slip and sprain upon.  A two bedroom: the main for her, and the small one?  That one was for her crafts.  

Doofus had to make other arrangements.  Neither did he realize, the closing process would go easy - the buyer had put a tad over half the property's cost as a down payment.  In short, he'd have to be out no later than the end of next month.  He scowled, watching his aunt hobble up the steps.  Where else was he going to find a place for $600 - and even if he did, there'd be no skating.   His buddy ray was engaged, and so, staying at his place?  wasn't happening.   And forget about jeffrey; he had shown him the door, three years ago, which is why he ended up surfing his way here - after two or three stops, one being with an on-and-now-permanently-OFF girlfriend.  Meh, she's a lard-bottom anyway.  

Doofus was done, thinking about his situation.   Tomorrow... maybe...  He reached for his laptop.  Duty calls.

Women initiate 80% of divorces? Could it be...? Yep, another very legit reason.

We all know that second marriages are more prone to breakup than 1st Marriages.   There are too many men out there who just want the free daycare, maidservice, caregiving, and after all that toil, a bj (for the flaccid...eech!).  But either, first or forth...

Oh SO VERY GLAD women are communicating with one another and not mincing words.   This gal has an aunt, another a sister, still another a friend from school who gave her husband her youth, gave up her opportunity to get a good job, only to end up broke later in life. 

So, could it be that Kelly, who's been married 20 years to an overbearing skinflint.  She somehow began doing the math.  No, Kel doesn't have written proof, that her husband, in reality, doesn't give two sheets about her - today, and most certainly 20 years from now.

Kel has an iq of, maybe 93, on a good day, but she finally smartened up to the fact, her husband doesn't have her back - besides the inevitable stabbing she'll get, if things remain the same.  (It's never enough with cheapskates, and never will be enough.  Just eggshells).   Nah, she can't prove that either.  But Kel knows.  Just little things over the years.  Like that car inspection, he was cussing about, a few years back - ya know, [gosh derned] grease monkeys; sure, new brakes aren't cheap, but it makes the car safe for the driver - and the other drivers.  It always bothered her, (besides the needless foul language) how her husband was cheapskate.  Comeon already, that waitress, over at the diner a few days ago, was running ragged, you'd think...

Anyway, last straw was him, again, snarling about payment for services rendered - the plumber's bill.  Uhm, the plumber got the toilet to flush properly - which for that, 

she is so grateful; you'd think her husband would feel the same, because he uses it also.  But no.  As a matter of fact, her husband had cast her a dirty look (more like hateful) for... of all flipping reasons, Kel had thanked the plumber.

Yep, all finally came together.  Kel is cool and calm - no tears, emotionally checked out.  Three Tuesdays from now, she has an appointment with a divorce attorney.

The neighborhood where i grew up, was a subdivision of homes built in the mid to late 1950s.

Post war, they were mostly ranchers with three bedrooms, one bathroom, one livingroom, a kitchen, and a dining room.  Likely, when the couples set up housekeeping, they had to be real careful managing on one income; since birth control was about unheard of back then, some of those families had three, or more, children - one bathroom, yikes :/  That all said, the parents did the right things: delaying material gratification, saving money for unexpected things, keeping their homes and yards in good condition.

As a child and early teen, i had been inside a number of these homes a time or two.  Being sensative to clean, or not clean - probably most kids, ate - it's just something that has always come to the forefront.   Most, like 90%, of the wives were housewives - maybe they worked part-time at murphy's or bowmans during the christmas season.  For the most part, these ladies were taken care of by their husbands.  And in turn, the ladies kept the house VERY tidy, and clutter free.  Mrs. Roger's kitchen, it was typically smallish, but her limited counterspace contained a toaster and a coffeepot, that's it; all white glove clean.  So, Mr. Roger's came home to neat, clean and peaceful.  Yeah, ever notice how the three correlate?

Over the years, evidently, the careful, clean living paid off.  Ya wonder why the greatest generation men - some of whom never finished high school - managed to get, and keep, sustainable jobs...back then, getting fired for calling off, slacking off, too much was a disgrace.  These men had regular jobs; this wasn't fancy pants pharms, where the doctors and lawyers lived.  Btw, back then, lawyers did not advertise on every third billboard.

Back then, a vacation was a few days at the beach, or the mountains; nothing fancy, nor borrowed.  Loans were mainly for getting a house or a (reliable) car.  Most families only had one - for dad to get back and forth to work.  For a mortgage, it was fixed rate, 20% down; for a new car, the loan was a four-year.  The way things were, it was like, you about had to save; most people didn't have health insurance, so if you broke a leg, that was all out of pocket.  My grandfather said, that it was customary for a man, with atleast some means, to overpay a medical bill, because there were people who couldn't.  

This is basically where the boomers came from.  Their parents worked together, and over time, managed to live debt free, and have things like life insurance and savings.  Assets passed on to the boomers, who somewhat in turn, inherited similar commonsense principles.  Younger people don't like us much.  There's resentment...well, wonder why :/  Yet, it's like every third younger person seems to have ink, by the armfuls.  Tats aren't cheap, and neither is running off to casino-land every third weekend.

Granddad passed some 40 years ago; he had been ill for about a yer prior. They had both been retired

a few years, and had been active in putting together senior citizens activities.  Probably grandmom's idea, because, at first, retirement didn't sit well with granddad - he was bummed out; used to putting on a suit and going to work.  But, as with successful people, he didn't stay bummed out.  Anyway, for a few years, they went on bus trips and such.  

When granddad passed, grandmom stepped away from the senior citizens activities.  She didn't want to go anywhere, and mom was concerned.  Based on something gram had mentioned, i think was part - if not most - the reason she had left off.  Besides being a widow - forty years ago, most old "single" women were widows; sure, some divorcees and a few spinsters - but most were widows.  

Anyway, way more "single" women at these things than single men.  Gram had mentioned of hearing about this one old widower, who every week, would put on a suit, and treat himself to lunch at pizza hut.  Folks were different back then - am old enough to remember people dressing up, just to go to howard johnsons; not the ritz, just a family restaurant - the way things were back in the day.

Anyway, somehow word got out, where this eligible old dude spent his tuesday or wednesday afternoons; gram said three old ladies were on his tail.  Have a gut feeling, gram was so turned off by that, she chose to keep a far distance.  Yaay gram!   But that was decades ago, things were so different. 

Now, some 40-50 years later...haven't noticed old women trying to score points with old men.  (Okay, i don't get out - just go to work and come home - suits me just peachy dandy.)  But i do know that there's lots of young men who just plain flat out detest young women - even call upon ... ugh, that harm happens.   Women are waking up, wising up - there's predators, and they're slick.  Last days, anyone?  Red-pills try to mask things, but there's not enough listerine at the wally world to cover the stench of a gila monster's breath.

Well, what happened yesterday before church, was evidence that the Bible means something

in my life, because, if Scripture was just a bunch of old desert tales, would have reacted waay different.   A well-dressed lady there (alot of that to be seen) was telling me about her recent trip to Israel, and how every believer should go...  First thought was, how many thousands of dollars, followed by, the cost probably being no big deal to this well-to-do boomer; probably wasn't her first post-retirement vacation, and likely not the last.

Here's the deal!  If i vaca'ed around, things like paying for electric and insurance - let alone unexpected stuff - uh, would be stressful.  But the real deal is: while the Lord expects His people to live separate from the world (ya know, not drink beer and smoke cigarettes) we are NOT expected to play up to the boomer$.  In short, the Lord doesn't look down on people who are mid60s, and still working full-time, because they have to continue working, because they haven't been playing the stock market, for the last several decades, and so don't have 1.3 million in their portfolio.  And likely, per the apple not falling far from the tree, she probably inherited funds from her parents/grandparents - there's an OT Scripture about that.  

And yeah, i get it:  boomers aren't much liked by younger folks, who can barely get by.  But nobody's talking about how people like her got that portfolio.  Proverbs, among other books in the Bible, details how years of clean living (plus being generous toward less fortunate folks) generates wealth.  Something about "pressed down and shaken."  For sure, boomer lady-didn't blow money on tats, booze, casinos, and door-dash - four nights a week (for what?  Substandard food, that's what).

Yes, it would be nice to have the money to go on vacations (and not feel nervous at the need to travel two towns away) but, ya know what?  The vaca i really want to go on, is the one which lasts forever.  THAT'S the one which matters.

"Let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, envying one another."  Galatians 5:26

"And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works:

Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching."  Hebrews 10:24-25

Ps, well, whaddayaknow,  some other gender inclusive passages straight out of the King James Bible :)

No need for newFANGled bibles, the real one KJB is gender inclusive enough, thankyou. Here's some samples

I Timothy 1:6-7

From which some having swerved have turned aside unto vain jangling;

Desiring to be teachers of the law; understanding neither what they say, nor whereof they affirm.

2 Thessalonians 3:10-11

For even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat.

For we hear that there are some which walk among you disorderly, working not at all, but are busybodies.

1 Corinthians 14:22

Wherefore tongues are for a sign, not to them that believe, but to them that believe not : but prophesying serveth not for them believe not, but for them which believe.

2 Corinthians 2:15-16

For we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that perish:

To the one we are the savour of death unto death ; and to the other the savour of life unto life.  And who is sufficient for these things?

2 Corinthians 10-12

For we dare not make ourselves of the number, or compare ourselves with some that commend themselves; but they measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise.

There's more, but am stopping here.

Among c(r)abby's latest posts - jenny craig has gone belley up.

Come to think of it, Sears - ya know, the store noted for its tools and auto supplies - had financial troubles.  But that aside, c(r)appy writes jenny craig's difficulty in finding hals who want to stick with the (boyish) thin program.  Hear him tell, women prefer food over men.  Frankly, that can make some sense - because you can make a reasonably modest slice of chocolate cake last more than two minutes.  Is what it is; the booze and drugs are, like the extra cookies, a personal choice.  But red-pills don't think...that far.

But do these peeves call "fat?"  Are they talking about some 30 or 40-something gal who's about half winded, about half way up a flight of steps?  Probably not.  Probably more like the gal who just bought herself a size 34 pair of jeans, and a size 14 sweater dress.  A normal healthy woman just can't be boyishly thin enough for these wankers.  As for poster-gal's 38dd, unless they're chemically inflated, big boobs usually accompany a body that might fit okay into a size 12 (hey honey, cold wash, line dry).

Have to seriously wonder, what pronouns are these, supposed, conservative red-pills covertly using anyway?  For instance, what's the code word they use for ... well, a rather emasculating...voluntary medical procedure - all for the thrill of ... basically, predation, without risk.  Sort of like, in a way, a video game - you can be big kingpin - the rapid-fire bullets remain safely within the screen's confines.  (Opps, kingpin wannabe isn't amused, aunty didn't buy any potato chips.  She's dieting, her doctor said...)

The guys screamie-MEmeing the loudist about losing half their house...puah, do they even own a house? Uhm, seven years into

a 30 year mortgage, doesn't quite get it; the monthly statement barely touches the principle - that is, if jasper even has the wherewithal to have made the investment.  Could be, he's living in his aunt freda's basement, or sponging off his (getting fed up) girlfriend, or is sharing quarters with two other dud(e)s.  But for the sake of discussion, let's make an arse out of all concerned, and assume red-pill groupie is, at present, married: and he and his wife are sevenish years into their mortgage.   The marriage being so on the rocks, one or both are seriously contemplating calling the lawyer.  Needful to say, doesn't help matters, when wifey, who also works full-time, does most the housework - and doesn't even get help lugging in the bags of groceries; yeah, that can take what remains of the gal's femininity and tramp it into the stained carpet.  Yeah, the rug could stand a shampoo...just another chore on wifey's list.

BIG difference between starting over, single, at early 30-something, than it is, to deep six a marriage some 20 years down the road - when the couple actually has a positive net worth.  And a decent living room rug, a real one; one that doesn't smell of plastieechy chemicals. 

Women make out like bandits in a divorce. Gimmee a break :/ Bandits usually

end up, sooner or later, in jail.  Most couples, divorcing in their later 40s - when the kids are almost adults, the house is almost paid off - will take a hit to their financial future.  Both, not just the man.  Some simple math, which of course red-pills seem to have a problem - yeah, the same ones scowling women for...well, besides breathing, going for a post high school education.

Mr and Mrs Late40s are calling it quits.  The house is valued at 350k, with 50k still owed.  Each will receive about 150k.  That sum will afford the two individuals a nice down payment for another house.  Thing is, had they been able (per the Lord's grace) to keep their marriage for-real together, that 50k would likely be past-tense, within a few years - if not three years ago.  Nothing like a solid  marriage to build wealth; Dave Ramsey explains...in simple terms.

Atleast in my area, if you look for a bit, you can find a decent house - in a safe neighborhood - for around 200k.  So, there each of the newly divorced individuals, each bought a place for about that.  Now EACH owes the bank 50k.  But wait a minute, (me being only high-school educated) forgot to factor in the cost of the divorce.  Each paid their lawyer about 10k.  Oh wait, when you buy a house, each realtor, who made the sale, gets a commission.  For simplicity's sake, let's put that as 5k.  While the spouse who had moved out, had sunk about 5k in rent, while looking for another house, the other spouse, who had remained in the house, spent about the same on curb appeal - that is, repairs which could have waited, just fine, had the couple chosen to remain together.

So 150 - 10 - 5 - another 5 = 130.  To get that 200k house, each will have to mortgage 70k, not 50.  Oh yeah, and one other little variable, if the (soon to be ex) wife wanted alimony, each of the lawyers would have charged a few k more.  But to keep the math simple, as with most women these days, she worked throughout her married years - oh, wait a sec, she stayed home for five-ish years, when the two kids were little.   The youngest, being sixteen when the divorce was final, the child support will be two years worth, and should be past-tense soon enough.  While the man peeves and complains, he doesn't have to spend the two evenings per week, chauffeuring - or shelling out the gas expense for junior's karate/hockey/whatever class, which serves to horn in upon the custodial parent's precious evening hours.  Nor is dad stuck taking time off work for doctor/dentist runs - that intrudes upon mom's leave balance, not dad's.  But these red-pills don't take that into account - too much like math :/

Some fifteen to twenty years later, guess who gets to (hopefully) retire at 65?  Yep, the man; his work years were uninterrupted.  Not so, for the woman; her mommy-track years will set her retirement date/income back a few clicks.  Had the couple been able to preserve their marriage - but that takes two people, one can't do it alone - they'd be better off financially.  Divorce is the real bandit; it comes to rob and destroy.

Shift to start.  Bye :)

Oh c(r)abby's just mixed up a (not exactly) fresh batch of word-salad. More of that "quiet quitting" bs.

Like it takes a PhD in languages to comprehend qq's real meaning.  Sad thing is: there's alot of young fellas out there, who are, literally, buying it.  Don't know what crappy's classes run, and wouldn't give even $1 for a dozen.  About 30 years ago, my co-worker's mid20s son was just doing the minimum to get by.  Well, one day, at his hardly-sustainable job, he happened to glance over at one of his co-workers.

He saw himself, 20-some years down the line.  Won't go into detail about the job, but it's one of those that pays enough to rent a room, but affords barely more than that - ya know, like reliable transportation.  Sure, the bus runs, but bus companies can change their routes/times.  So ya could end up standing around for a half-hour - which is fine, when you're 20-something, but oh that can get old.

Anyway, my co-worker's son didn't want to be scraping by at 40-something.  So, he did something about it: went for some vocational training, and headed for a job with a future - a leave account and a retirement plan; so that when he reached his 60s - and reached the wrong way for something, (ouch!) he'd be able to stay home for a day or two, and stay off the sprain.

Needful to say, where 40-something was at, taking a sick day here or there is enough to get laid up, laid off.   Read an article, some years back, about those grinds.  One employee's fear was ... oh, for heaven's sake ... coming down with the flu (this was years before covid), when feverish office mid/managers didn't think twice about hitting the elevator button, because, hey, that 9:30 meeting.  Sadly, though when this particular worked-like-a-rented-mule worker was down with whatever headache or achey joint, too bad, because taking a sick day meant no pay, on an already nagging tight budget.

Thing is, these red-pill pushers already have theirs...well, so they claim; after all, we can be anyone we want on the internet.  But, whether these "influencers" are haves, or not, point is ... well, sorta, in a way, like nasty museech.  Some young dude soaks it up, along with some "reds" (some kind of mind bending drug, back in the day), trips out, goes out, but the rocker - going on about outrunning the cop - does a real smooth back-pedal; was just art/acting you know, not to be taken serious (by some really messed around sixteen year old kid, who almost made the turn at 80 mph, but not quite).

Anyway, back to quiet quitting.  Even though there are, supposedly, plenty of decent paying jobs out there, employers are picky.  Carl contractor also has competitors, so he wants his customers to call again about the windows/siding/whatever job they were talking about having done at a later time (ya know, when there's money available).  In short, Carl wants dependable people; and employers are not going to find people  who do the job right, the first time, just any old where.  One such contractor told me flat out, that he prefers to hire people who are employed, and have a sound job history.  Well, he should know, he's been in the business for the past 20-30 years.  By the way, this was prior to covid, and i had to wait a few months, because they were booked up, and only had so much staff.   So, only thing i could do was, be patient.

Quiet quitting can become a habit, and next thing you know, guy, you're 42, and all you have is a few hundred and a dented soda can van.  And resume gaps - plural.  Not good.  While a 40-something woman may have reasons (raising her kids and all), probably won't hold water for a man.

Sorry (not sorry) C(r)abby, the Peter Pan syndrome contributes nothing to community, it's just a cap :)

Can ya hear the whizz of the male hamster wheel.  Rationalizing just plain L-A-Z-Y, lazy.  His commenting red-pill groupies, all on board with that; talking up minimalism and reduced work hours.  But the reality is, living in a van, down by the river, is fine and dandy when you're young.  Those soda can walls, however, begin to close in around middle age.  There you are, forty something, and these past few days have been damp and dreary; your bones are...eh, beginning to nag...and now, on this overcast morning, some "karen" pulls up and, well, sorta politely announces, from her late-model  sedan window, to kindly move along.  Uhm yeah, the rather scrubby, out of the way patch of weeds growing out and around discarded slabs of concrete, and rusted chunk of whatever... Still, happens to be a part of her acreage.  Less than pic-perfect, but it's her land, and her rules.  So, you can get on your "little" red-prod, later on, and call her a fat whatever; call her what ya will, if you're not gone in like five minutes, she - with cellphone on ready - is going to call the police.  

Dude, kindly stop the cap.  You're just miffed, because karen is merely one of many women who is able to "cope" in the business world.  Ya know, navigate through the bs without throwing a hissy fit, and getting the promotions, through none other than hard and steady work.  Btw, the reason employers like women is :  because they work. 

The podcast, for which i could only stomach about two minutes, shows some guy on a recreational vehicle, going ... pua, nowhere, really.  It's all about them, and their silly little hobbies - which the world will go on  revolving just fine without.  About a minute into Cap's little rant, he was hampstering how the Peter Pan syndrome is not a mental illness - can ya spell "protesteth too much?" 

Dust comes in all shades.

For the sake of discussion, let's assume that beautiful, spacious country kitchen is real;

and not some zoomey background.  Wow! Whadda kitchen, in that spacious country house - probably three floors, with two or even three bedrooms on the third floor.  Everything in good repair - when the forecast is for three to four inches of rain, and high wind, no worries.  Just plenty of white-space for a large family: in the couple's case, a lot of grandchildren to come visit, and stay over in the bedrooms their mom or dad had slept in, when they were kids.  Anyway, in her kitchen, the only thing sitting upon the miles of counter, was a nuker.   Oh, i'm sure, not shown in the podcast, was another few miles of counter, where the coffeepot and toaster, maybe a blender, sat.  But there were miles of cupboards, above and below, so the blender probably sat free and easy upon conveniently accessed shelf whitespace.

When you have space, and all is in good repair, makes a BIG difference in how much housewifey can get done, while keeping everything squeaky clean: not a cobweb, or dust bunny, anywhere!  Big difference!  Was thinking about all this, when happened to ... yikes, a snarl of cobwebs at the base of a chair.  Well, took the mop to that.

Living in an old house, that needs some work, can only imagine what the lady, who used to live here, back in the mid80s, had to deal with.  Not only was the space really not adequate for a family of four, she also worked full-time.  Yep, most the housework, childcare, and grocery runs, and such other free delivery service, was put upon her shoulders.  Won't go into detail, but some years later, someone had said to me, that the house was "not clean."  

Well, i guess not!  Needless to say, this bit of old (and very common) news was told by a woman who lived in a newer, better repaired, and probably more spacious house.  Btw, mrs.whitegloves's husband also made better money (and didn't drink).  Yeah, booze is one skanky, gender-bending homewrecker - something about compromising the cerebral cortex, makes men less manly, and women less feminine...sounds like baphomet at work).

All's i know is, the Lord did not intend for people to live, to work, in crampy spaces - where maintenance is like ten times the hassle.  There's a Scripture in, i think Psalms - or maybe, Proverbs - where a redeemed person, King David, maybe, is set in a "large room."  As a second witness, here and there, Scripture talks about "mansions."  Jesus niChrist talks about his Father's house are many mansions.  (John 14:2) 

Someone had tried to say that "mansion" means a room.  Well, even if that was the case, that "room" wouldn't be some shabby-ars'd (insanely priced) $200 per week efficiency - talk about word-games.  The "range" was like that, bluck; a family of four lived there.  Babysat there over one right, and slept on two kitchen chairs - there were rats in the place, because one had died beneath their christmas tree.

Anyway, looked up the word "mansion" in the dictionary.  A mansion is a nice house with multiple rooms.  The example given is a manor house - ya know, big kitchen, and more than two crampoid bedrooms.

Yep, this post is getting all over the map, but hey, it happens.  Anyway, that family had neighbors who lived two units down.  Also, a family of four, their place, so neat, so clean, and uncluttered.  Oh, let us guess, the father, the Man of the house, evidently was - uhm, like not boozing, not drugging, but working to secure a better place for his wife and children.

So glad this blog is virtually unknown, because, frankly, dealing with ever SHRILLLL red-pill peevies...eh, no thanks.  They'd go on with the typical pity-play, "it's all men's fault."   Uhm, yeah... call it, the bane of leadership, ask any supervisor.  Bruh.  Of course these guys bash education; that's apparent enough, because, evidently, they generally don't read much.  Do these guys even realize, there have been studies done - and good luck finding the stats, because the study was done about 20 years ago - and, even then, suppressed, because of it's political incorrectness.  Think it might have been discussed in a journal called "Mankind Quarterly."  Also, back in the early days of the internet, were articles concerning the same quasi forbidden subject.

That subject being, stats revealing that on average men are 3 to 5 iq points higher than women.  In short, men are slightly smarter than women.  Well, that makes sense, since the Lord created men to be the innovators and problem solvers.  At atleast one of the sources, they showed a bell chart: for the men, the curve was lower and more distributed, while for the women, the curve was higher and less distributed.  In short, more men are either geniuses or morons, while more women are around average.

  

Not to say there are no genius women; it is believed that Ayn Rand had an iq of around 180 - that's VERY smart.  Btw, she had grown up in communist russia, and what that reprobate government did to her father - who was wanting to provide for his family...well, yeah, guess she would have copped an attitude:/

Anyway, there's sewing to done, and it won't raise itself up and do itself.

"In my Father's house are many mansions : if it were not so, I would have told you.  I go to prepare a place for you."  John 14:2

Red pills "think" they're winning by rejecting commitment to a woman. But they forget one little detail.

That is:  men are the innovators, the leaders, and women follow; natural order of things.  Yep, women are following, alright.  Women are choosing education/career over being stuck pack-muling for husband/children - only to end up, after DECADES of doing grueling labor for free, an impoverished and neglected widow.  Yep :)  even in countries like Japan :)  women are saying, meh, no thanks to the grind.  A resounding YYAAYYYY to the eastern ladies.

Heard this preacher, quite a few of his sermons, and will continue to listen, because,

well, he's straight up KJB.  While am no Scripture expert, do read a chapter or two, on most mornings before work.  Saying this because, he'll quote this or that Scripture, and ... oh yeah, that was before, or after such and such.  Thing is, it's not about head-knowledge - there's people who can find about any obscure Scripture, and they think it all a myth.  Don't have the chapter and verse, but somewhere in the New Testament  (Corinthians somewhere?) that Bible things are spiritually discerned - while you take the time to read, during and after, the indwelling Holy Spirit teaches you things.  Okay that all said.

Anyway, through listening to that certain preacher (his sermo usually run close to an hour) i think he tends to look down his nose at women.  But here's the deal.  The difference between a saved misog, and a lost one is: the saved misog knows that his going around thinking he's better/smarter...than women, only evidences the sin of pride - and that's one with way more baggage than the sin of overeating, or smoking cigarettes.  Tell me, he doesn't get convicted, after spouting off this or that!  Pride, btw, was the first sin - Lucifer thought he should occupy God's office suite.  

Another trait of a saved misog is: despite the little quips about women's ways of doing things, he for real wants women, like any other human, to get saved - yep, even the 304s.  And here's why: just because he seems to not even like women much - ya know, they've "their place", shouldn't oughta wear britches, and all...bla, bla, bluuck.   Anyway, the preacher - per listening to not only what he says, but how he says, and the very tone of his voice (uhm, spiritual discernment??) - he for real desires that people, of both gender, come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ, so they don't end up in eternal hell. 

The "wall" comes for men too; much later, of course, but a wall is a wall. Here's the deal though,

when the wall comes for the early 30s woman, she is still young and energetic enough...she has quite a few years to adjust to living on her own, as a fully functioning adult - to cultivate productive money-saving habits.  She has adequate time to get her own house in order - so, in her later years, she and her kitty kat can enjoy the 3,000 square feet, and a few acres, debt-free space.

Until, basically an hour ago, per a video interview of a 50ish man, the things he said, reveals that players played out, have a whole different set of problems before them.  While 30-something wilma's clock ticks away upon that cutsie little stand next to her computer; 50-something pete-player-still-wannabee's clock is going like that big contraption they have on the square, in front of the bank.

Thing is: it's one thing to make important changes at 30...and so another at 50, or 60.  While post-wall women generally have family and friends in their lives, still-wannabe-players generally do not.  Such is life when the kids don't come around - and why should they?   Considering those needless hard candy holidays, while baby-daDUH was out and about...buying another round.

And now??  Yep, played-out is looking for a thirty or fortyish wife.  His health is not the greatest, and his finances are bout bordering on life support - wouldn't have anything to do with std/booze fallout, would it??  Anyway, to hear him go on, yep, it's still all about him; he's looking for a nurse and a maid, in one (gucci, even a stone mountain) parcel.

"Stop the cap" shaming, because "cap" is simply a human condition. Ya know, you want the $1,200 phone, but

instead, you settle for the $400 one - because you're sensible, realistic.  And yeah, your braggy frenemies won't mind their (high balance) business...and there you are, listing reasons - good and valid ones - for your decision.  The $400 model, clearly, promptly takes and sends calls, emails, photos, and gets you into the net.  And never mind, your credit card statement is manageable - uhm, you're not stressing about needing four new tires, because the ones you have might not pass the upcoming inspection.  Yeah, vehicle inspection that's another no-complaints thing.  You pay your bill, and drive down the road, knowing your vehicle is safe to drive, because people who work around cars, and know how they run, checked yours.

Complaining.  Am i the only one who's noticed that red-pills do that, alot?  Ugh, that ungrateful spirit...yeah, gets old :)    Their whole anti-marriage thing is not a cap, or even a cover, but a heathen lie; these red-pills detest marriage, (and the Word; should that be a surprise to anyone :/ ) because it's too much like ... uhm, putting others before ones awesome self.

Marriage is a (long-term) risk, to both the man and the woman, standing before the preacher or jp.  But red-pills don't trouble themselves working...:) the other half of the equation.  (Too much like basic math :/) Even in these enlightened times, if the husband's career means moving across the state, well, we can guess who's career gets stunted - wifey worked at acme insurance for x-amount of years, and was up for a promotion.  Now, she'll be basically starting over in a little cubicle, among total strangers - could be a shark tank, wifey doesn't know.  While alot of people can work from home, not everyone can - and alot of business owners want their staff back in the office, atleast part of the time.  We call rail all sorts of accusations at the CEOs, but hey, the job's on big-boss'es terms; ya either want it, or ya don't.

And we all know, which spouse will end up having to miss all or part of the staff meeting, because little johnny sneezed at either daycare or school - either way, don't you know, it's the bubonic plague.   Have to wonder, if the medical drama, is all about sheets and giggles - at mom's expense, of course :/   

Anyway, in case red-pills didn't get the short memo, (or bother themselves to read it) employers/bosses would rather that work processes not be interrupted - throws a wrench into things, like training, collaborating, trouble shooting, meeting deadlines.  One of the criteria for considering someone for a promotion, is that someone will be able to stay for the meeting, and attend the entire training sesson.

Oh the red-pills are having a glee-fest, over one or two bridal businesses going belly up (never mind, several department stores

have gone through the similar financial trouble).  Don't even know if Sears is still around, but do know BonTon is gone - that used to be a really nice store.  But anyway, the red-pills are glossing over the fact that women these days aren't so desperate to latch onto any jasper's gold-plated, bort-encrusted offer.   Women are waking up, growing brains, building boundaries... yeah,  women maintaining standards, makes bitter-bachelor & company wax shrill.  

What's even better - infinitely so, is: while the Bible is clear in many passages that women should marry (and stay home and raise babies) have yet to come across ANY Scripture telling wome, for the sake of being married, to latch onto just any old guy.  As a matter of fact, all believers are to be discerning, steer clear of ungodly people.  And only marry a fellow believer - ya know, not be unequally yoked.  Well, that alone, equals waay more left swipes than right.

So, it doesn't take a Bible scholar to conclude, the very real possibility that a young slender discerning woman - just fresh out of junior college, could reach the age of thirty, and still be unmarried.    While Scripture does not give percentages, of who will experience the nice side of eternity, Jesus plainly said (in Matthew 7:14) "few there be that find it."  The pretty girl will likely attract a husband - and hopefully, a decent one; but we all know, natural good looks can be a set-up. 

Yeah, talk to Ruthie.  She's 50-something, and STILL can fit into some of the cute little outfits she wore in her early 20s.

"Enter ye in at the strait gate : for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat :  Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth, unto life, and few there be that find it."   Matthew 7:13-14