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Parting Ways
How to Go About Finding a New and Better Wench

Recently, an anonymous listener wrote into the Crackpot Podcast inquiring as to how he might recover from a soured relationship, which he tragically defined as “parting ways” with one wench, in search of a newer, better, fresher wench.

I do not recall my answer as I was halfway through a bottle of Aztec Goddess nectar and was channeling the Khan, from his restless eternity in that ancient barrow mound where likely wenches were once strangled at his cold feet to accompany him into the afterglow of life…

First, never have wenches strangled at your feet until you are deceased, otherwise the needling attention of the sissy “authorities” might completely squander the peace-of-mind one might naturally derive from having such harpies silenced at the nod of your head.

The wench is not the best form womanhood takes, but is its basic configuration. They all start out as wenches—and remain partly that all their days, for they are nature-born slaves. Your gift to a wench is not to join her in a journey, but to bear her as a burden for so long as it benefits your journey and her commitment to be owned by an individual or cult or system of thought. Women yearn to be property, with their journey not an outward experience, but a sinking into a place of being.

If she is inclined to sink into place than leave her, perhaps as a port.

If she is inclined to sink into being, than she may be worthwhile cuddle cargo.

Your journey is your own.

Achilles and Brisais did not share a journey. He possessed her for a time and the most important thing about her was her being taken by Agamemnon. Brisais was an article in the act of Achilles’ sorrow. Agamemnon, the fool who must own all, was later done to death by is very traitorous wife.

The man to emulate is Odysseus, the wily warrior whose queen, Penelope, served as his port in the storm of his life, amongst which the various goddesses, furies and fates who tempted him were mere squalls. It is my opinion that The Odyssey was written by a woman, not by Homer, and offers much wisdom for the man wary of feminine wiles.

As the woman’s journey circles inward and the man’s outward and she, like Brisais, becomes the tool for the Agamemnon’s of the vile and petty world of men to bring your path into disaster, the man must, understanding he is like the ship, appreciate the woman for what she is like—not the wheel or the tiller, but the anchor, an aspect of the ship which must be sometimes detached lest it all be dragged below.

On Bitches

Your Trojan Whorse

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