The Perfect Attitude

The Perfect Attitude

Dear Women,

jokes, like stereotypes usually have a kernel of truth. They’re also an effective way to communicate ideas and information, especially if said ideas and information is unpalatable under normal conditions.

The picture above is another good example of such a thing, though many woman who lack senses of humor may not find it educational, let alone funny.

What’s the kernel of truth? The attitude. It’s true – there’s no such thing as a perfect woman. But a great attitude can’t make up for a lot! Or add that extra sheen to the package deal, to help seal the deal.

The woman above? Her attitude is light-hearted and playful. It’s about pleasing him. It’s about loving a man despite his flaws, even finding them endearing. Loving the man as he is, not who you might wish he was.

The above woman is a woman who gives herself to a man, completely, without reservation or hesitation.

Of course, ladies – doing such a thing opens oneself up to the possibility of being hurt, if you choose the wrong man (and some of you do that on purpose!). That’s why in the past, there was no such thing as a boyfriend and that men and women were married off early.

You can’t just give yourself completely to any guy.

But you can still have the same mindset, just in a matter of degrees.

Besides, ladies. These days, you are learning as men have always known, how hard women are to please. Why not please your man? It’s a much simpler, more rewarding endeavor, I promise.



H/T for the image: Wimminz – Mind Your Language


Zodiac (SBP)

Probably the biggest thing that’s helped me out with regards to improving with women and other endeavors is recognizing patterns. Helped me with unraveling the truth of history and helped me learn from my own.

I’ve never really had more than a passing fancy in astrology. Despite this, I can’t help but notice patterns. That I’m a Leo and the most important women in my life tend to be either Pisces or Sagittarius.

  1. First girlfriend in highschool? Pisces.
  2. Girl I messed around with after my first girlfriend and I broke up? Pisces.
  3. First serious girlfriend, from end of highschool to the end of my first year in college? Pisces.
  4. Second serious girlfriend? Sagittarius.
  5. Third serious girlfriend? Sagittarius.

Those are the ones whose birth dates I distinctly remember. I may have to do a little research later. It seems a preponderance of Zodiac Compatibility Charts one can google (besides various “readings”) seem to support my experience. Below’s a few easy to read ones that are pretty similar to all the others I’ve seen.

I can tell you right now now – the relationships with both women who were Sagittarius, were the best ones of my life.

Zodiac 2 (SBP) Zodiac 3 (SBP)


Lessons Page

Lessons (SP)

Unlike normal college, you don’t accrue student loans while attending the School of Hard Knocks because you tend to pay up-front for each lesson. Still, the costs of these kinds of lessons can be just as ruinous if you never transfer from the School of Hard Knocks to College of Learning From Your Own Mistakes or the Ivy League-grade, University of the Mistakes of Others.

So, in no particular order, until I take the time to go through them all, here some of my lessons, that you may put an “old head on your young shoulders”. I’ll constantly update this page as I go.

  1. What is she looking at?
  2. Body Language 1
  3. My First Major Fail
  4. Second Major Fail 
  5. Lesson on Body Language and Fail #3
  6. Connect Four
  7. On Being Operational
  8. Operational Failure


The Difference Between an Atta-Boy and an Oh-Shit

The Difference Between an Atta-Boy and an Oh-Shit

…is one minute.

My squad leader sent me GPS coordinates, with which I could navigate to RTB with my Google Maps. I had a choice of two routes – a 21 minute route and a 15 minute route. I had plenty of time to get there by 0545hrs in the morning, as long as I left no later than 0500 to get to the parking lot at 0530 and Mount Vestie by 0545.

I woke up and remembered all the construction I’ve been through and decided that the 15 minute route might have construction blocking the path or slowing it down. I knew I should have done a route recon last night. So, the 21 minute route it is. Besides, I took a buddy to RTB this way before, so I thought I’d be fine to do it again. Arrival at 0532ish, says my GPS. Not too bad. Right before I have no choice but to drive through the gate off post, I realize that maybe the 15 min route was better. Too late now; in my haste to get in my car I left my military ID and any ID at all in my wallet at home. My GPS leads me to my turn and…it’s a median and a red double-sided gate with a sign that reads “Do Not Enter”. I swing past it and turn around. Park my car a little bit off the median, a tad in the ditch. Hop that fence and ask a fellow in APFUs where if the Mount Vestie was close by.

Him: “Oh yeah, about 400 meters up.”

Me: “Is there a turn around here, I don’t have my ID on me.”

Him: “Yeah, the turn’s not too far back. And there’s no gate!”

I should have ran that exact moment up the road to Mount Vestie. I would have been on time with minutes to spare.

But at that moment, I thought I could find a better answer than the one I had, i.e., park my car in a proper parking space so it wouldn’t get towed. I drove out and when I didn’t see my turn in two minutes, I drove back and parked where I was before, only a little deeper and not as obvious. Hopped that fence and ran. Checked my MGRS GPS to double-check where I was and then ran more.

About 30 seconds to a minute before the clock struck ’45, I heard the scream of formation being released for PRT. As I ran up searching for my platoon, I mistakenly locked eyes with a platoon trainer, and gave my name and initials, as I was late by a minute.

Unfortunately, being late was the least of my worries…my squad leader had attempted to cover for me and said I was at formation when I wasn’t…

Even more unfortunately, command decided not to take this as the minor issue it was, and are calling it an honor violation. Now, my squad mate’s career will suffer and if he ever does go to Ranger School, it won’t be with me our any of our class. Between myself the few people I’ve talked to, the only person who blames myself for my squad leader’s jeopardy is myself. The student PSG blames the guy who whispered into my squad leader’s ear to say I was there, at the last minute. Two other guys blame the platoon trainer for being unduly harsh, something with which he seems to have a pattern of being. But the stark reality is, had I not been late, the events of that day would have never transpired. My squad leader would never have had to make that choice.

All because I wanted a better answer, instead of the one I had right in front of my face.


On Being Operational

My family places a premium on being operational. My Father traded on that quality his entire life to be successful and continues to do so.

What exactly is operational?

It’s hard to give it a precise definition. Street smarts. Accomplishing a task, despite no clear path to success? Knowing when to take a clear answer to victory, even if it isn’t the prettiest answer because you know that you only have two choices – success and failure.

Allow me to give you a small example.

I had a month until hell week – my first week of military school. I needed proper facilities to work out in, to do my push ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups. I could do all the push ups I wanted at home of course, but I needed a push up bar and did sit ups a certain way.

I had no real money for a gym membership. My parents weren’t going to buy me one just for me to go for a month.

But I did have an ace up my sleeve. Right before summer transition program, I took advantage of a program a local DC Gym offered – a month’s free membership to try out the gym. I had only been able to take advantage of it for a week.

I walked inside the gym, explained that I was preparing for military school on an army scholarship, and needed a place to work out. I told them I had used their free membership program but was only able to use a week. I asked if there was any chance I could use the remaining three weeks of my trial membership.

And the guy at the counter signed me up.


80 Proof Playlist Update #2

It’s time for another update for the 80 Proof Playlist:

80 Proof Playlist (SBP)

First off, commenter Autist Overlord Attack Helicopter, asked me to make a youtube playlist. I’ve done so. It’s actually pretty simple to do; here are the instructions:

80 Proof Playlist Update #2 (SBP)

Here’s the youtube playlist.

Due to the nature of youtube playlists, I’m unable to get Ace’s own song “Quake” (it’s on soundcloud) on the youtube playlist unless Ace himself decides to put that song on youtube.

I’ve added 16 new songs to my playlist and to the actual youtube playlist, bringing the total of songs to 72.

  1. “Singin’ the blues while the lady cats cry..” (Stray Cats – Stray Cat Strut)
  2. “…if you will please, move in closer…” (Saliva – Ladies and Gentlemen)
  3. “…telling tales of drunkenness and cruelty…” (The Kinks – Sunny Afternoon)
  4. “…you wouldn’t stay with me if something better comes along…” (Wolfsheim – Find You’re Here)
  5. “The look on your face don’t deceive me; I told you before, so believe me…” (KLOQ – We’re Just Physical)
  6. “…Tell me, mother, will I die?’ ‘Yes, my child, and so shall I’…” (Chris Isaak – Black Flowers)
  7. “…heroin drip, no more so…” (Selena Gomez – The Heart Wants What It Wants)
  8. “…when the band plays Hail to the Chief, they point the cannon at you…” (Creedence Clearwater Revival – Fortunate Son)
  9. “…a hell of a revelation too sudden and insidious to escape…” (Rob Dougan – Clubbed To Death
  10. “You thought you made a man, you better think again…” (Audioslave – Show Me How To Live)
  11. “When your line is crossed, I get off…” (Halestorm – I Get Off)
  12. “Now I bleed for you; burn for me…” (Type O Negative – Blood And Fire)
  13. “Arm yourself because no one else here will save you…” (Chris Cornell – You Know My Name)
  14. “Don’t care if he’s guilty; don’t care if he’s not…” (The Civil Wars – Devil’s Backbone)
  15. “That’s why I cut you just to heal you.” (Hugo – Hurt Makes It Beautiful)
  16. “I just wanna lay here and let myself die…” (DMSLT – A Pale Horse Named Death)

Please enjoy responsibly.


“The Sun is shining, and everything’s dying…”

In less than four weeks, I’ll embark on training that will last at the very least, sixty-three days, if not several long months more. I’ll have zero ability to post or otherwise communicate with civilization or the outside world short of by letter or payphone at scheduled times. When I have 8 hour pass to rest and recuperate, I’ll likely not post at all, instead opting to shovel food, sleep, and resupply.

It suddenly occurs to me that I’ve got a huge backlog of posts that may never see the light of day for longer than they should. It also occurs to me that I’ll miss being able to record and post my thoughts when convenient.

So – in order to offset that, I’ll do my damndest to post at least twice a week, if not more. To hell with perfect posts – good enough will done, as it has done before.

As of right now, I’m pretty damn nervous. I’ve already had one wake up call and I think I’ll get another wake up call reminding me I’m not 100% ready for Ranger School. So much seems to hinge on this assignment and its successful completion. I’m worried I might not make it much further past RAPT week, embarrassing myself, and potentially missing my one shot at this opportunity.

All told, there’s probably one big thing in my favor. I never thought I’d finish a 12 mile ruck in under 3 hours and I ended up doing it twice. Both times, people doubted me. Hell, I even doubted myself. Now, here I sit, butter bar and blue cord. I suspect I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. Or at least, my heart is a size bigger than it should be given my size. Ultimately, when it comes down to it, I want in my heart of hearts to earn that tab. Ultimately, my body’d break down long before my heart ever did.


On Size

Before the 1970’s, nobody cared how big his penis was.

But now we live in an era where size supposedly matters. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. With the ubiquity of porn these days, it seems like every guy knows not only his height and weight, but also his girth and length.

But here’s my simple view.

I don’t care. In fact, I’m happy with what I have. I’m grateful that I don’t have a micropenis that won’t fit into anything because it’s too small. I’m grateful that I don’t have a horsecock that can hardly fit into anything because it’s too big. I’m pretty sure I’m about average and that means I can go balls deep in most orifices of most girls (though some of them have more than just a mouthful to work with). That makes me happy.

Even if I did care – there’s nothing* I can really do to change my dick size. Or my height. So I don’t worry about either. I’ve dated tall women and I’ve dated short women. I’m 5’7″, 5’8″ on a good day. Tallest I dated was a German girl who was 5’11”. Shortest I dated I think was a girl who was 4’11”.



*No girl has really ever complained about my dick size so I’ve never seriously looked into ways to increase it. While I wouldn’t mind an extra inch or two – what I’ve got works well enough and I’d rather use my time for something else than something that might increase my length or girth (or hurt me!).

**I could wear platform shoes, but I’d rather just be comfortable with my height and dress well so that I look good and appropriate.

It’s Never So Simple

An excerpt from one of Chris Rock’s stand ups:

“The whole country’s got a fucked up mentality. We all got a gang mentality. Republicans are fucking idiots. Democrats are fucking idiots. Conservatives are idiots and liberals are idiots.

Anyone who makes up their mind before they hear the issue is a fucking fool. Everybody, nah, nah, nah, everybody is so busy wanting to be down with a gang! I’m a conservative! I’m a liberal! I’m a conservative! It’s bullshit!

Be a fucking person. Listen. Let it swirl around your head. Then form your opinion.

No normal decent person is one thing. OK!?! I got some shit I’m conservative about, I got some shit I’m liberal about. Crime – I’m conservative. Prostitution – I’m liberal.”

Rarely are my views on any one topic completely black and white, especially if I don’t know much about the topic at hand or it’s a hot button issue.

Say abortion.

Pro-choice? Pro-life? How about both?

Overall – I’d say I’m pro-life. But not for the reason you think. Besides the matter of infanticide (not uncommonly practiced in more ancient times), I think that abortion has serious consequences on the girl. I already know that it can mess up the mind of a woman to have a miscarriage, and each consecutive one makes it worse. There are varying levels of damage of course, but that’s not the point. A woman will mourn the death of her child, whether or not it manages to take its first breath. With abortion, I believe it’s even worse, because the death of the baby is a choice. That takes a simple death (bad enough) and turns it into a kill. Maybe even a murder depending on how you look at it. Regardless, the effect on the psyche of a woman who chooses it can’t be good.

Not everyone has the same reason. Sometimes a woman just plain can’t afford to raise the child. I’d certainly understand as I believe that raising a child when you’ve not the means to do so is akin to child abuse.

But what about the woman who possibly could afford to raise it but chooses to have an abortion anyway? I don’t believe that she walks away from that unscathed. And if it looks like she’s relatively unscathed, then I’m liable to think the damage is even worse. Who would want to be with a woman who does not mourn the death of her own flesh and blood?

Not me.

So on one hand, I’d do everything in my power to avoid having any women I care about have an abortion.

Yet – on the other hand – there’s no way I can afford to raise a child right now. I’m not ready to get married and settle down with one woman. I’m neither financially stable enough nor mentally prepared to put aside my wants and needs at this point in time to take care of someone other than myself, let alone a baby! So if I accidentally got a girl pregnant, and she chose to get an abortion, I wouldn’t stop her. In fact, I’d probably encourage it. I’d pay for half of it. If necessary, all of it. But I wouldn’t like it.

Giving said child up for adoption would be preferable, but I don’t have much time to set that up. Handing them over to be a ward of the state in foster care is playing a rigged lottery in which winning could either be a great life or a life of abuse and misery.

Even better, of course, is never getting a girl pregnant.

And because I’d never wish for the “Qual der Wahl” [agony of choice] between the lesser of two evils, I fastidiously adhere to the use of an ounce of prevention…

…that I may never need a pound of cure.


H/T: Karl for helping me find the correct excerpt (Google search, his post came up).