How to Get Women

Well after a lot of observations and profound cogitations, Fat Uncle Cheapo is pleased to announce that he has discovered the surefire guaranteed way to get girls to get gaga over you (a guy).


A point to remember is that this survival guide is only for those who aren't fortunate enough to be born rich, powerful or handsome/cute/hot.


For ease of ..well...for general easeness, lets divide it into DOs and DONT's


DOs

1. Be a lying cheating scumbag and overall despicable human being
2. Beat women up and generally treat them as garbage
3. Be a coward


If you diligently perform these two activities, women will que to:

• Give you money
• Sleep with you
• Defend you in the face of the whole world

Now there are some activities you should never ever do if you want to have any chance of ever having a girlfriend.

1. Be a nice, honest, kind, generous human being [nothing turns women off faster than these traits]
2. Have enough courage and willpower to follow your beliefs (for example, give up your job and stare at bankruptcy to take care of those in need) [that's just wrong as far as women are concerned]
3. Be respectful towards women [that's fucking kryptonite for your chances]


If you are any of the 3 above, then rest assured that women will rather commit suicide by jumping off the Sears Tower after consuming poison, alighting themselves all the while decapitating themselves with a chainsaw than go out with you.


So come on guys, be heinous, be douche-bags, be the scum of the humanity...and look out of the window to see the que.

WANKERS

Well, in today's Telegraph's there was an entry requesting the name of a Biblical dancer. Its Salome btw.

However, this particular clue posed two interesting observations in the mind of Fat Uncle Cheapo.


The 1st observation was that whoever makes crosswords are either geniuses or wankers...or probably both.


And this being Fat Uncle Cheapo, the thoughts soon permeated into identifying who all were Biblical Wankers.


We start with our man Adam.
He was a man.
Ergo he was a wanker.
All men are, no point pretending otherwise.

Next.

We come to the angels. Well, there seems to be way too many of them. In fact, there were so mnay of them that they had to establish an underground colony called hell. There is no way to determine the penchant for wanking in all of them. So we have to contend with a few superstars. (And its not my fault that all the superstars are from hell)

Apparently Asmodeus is a very lusty fellow; he fell in love with Sarah but never got to do it with her; so yes a wanker.

Baal on the other hand is a spider with 3 heads - so not a wanker.

Beelzebub is an insect...there is no proof whatsoever of any insect ever wanking, so.

Belphegor apparently "originated as the Assyrian Baal-Peor, the Moabitish god to whom the Israelites became attached in Shittim (Numbers 25:3), which was associated with licentiousness and orgies. It was worshipped in the form of a phallus."....comments or speculations are unnecessary


Leviathan is a whale (how in hell's name a whale ever came to symbolize evil etc is something noone will ever understand). Nuff said.


And finally, it seems that Moloch was a bit of a Wellbeloved. He went around asking people to sacrifice their children to him. Well, we all know what type of people like children in such a disturbing manner.

There seems to be some confusion about Archangels. It seems the religious types can't make up their mind about how many there are...some say 3, some say 4, some say 7. I will restrict myself to 3 - Michael, Gabriel and Rafael.


Rafael, being a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, is definitely not a wanker.


As far as Michael is concerned, reports indicate that he is a dude but all images, illustrations portray him as a feminine......no conclusion can be arrive at at this juncture but the words hermaphrodite, eunuch etc are roaming around.

Gabriel is apparently a man with superpowers - so basically a mutant. He is horny (has a horn) and loves children. I am not saying anything, but based on those facts, you draw your conclusions.





When has an Authority or Ruler or Power or Principal ever been a wanker? Since they exploit everybody so it is safe to say that they are not wankers.




According to Dionysius the Areopagite
 
"The name of the holy Virtues signifies a certain powerful and unshakable virility welling forth into all their Godlike energies; not being weak and feeble for any reception of the divine Illuminations granted to it; mounting upwards in fullness of power to an assimilation with God; never falling away from the Divine Life through its own weakness, but ascending unwaveringly to the superessential Virtue which is the Source of virtue: fashioning itself, as far as it may, in virtue; perfectly turned towards the Source of virtue, and flowing forth providentially to those below it, abundantly filling them with virtue."

If that's not a description of an erection, nothing is. And if they are continuously erect, they have to wank.




From all accounts, the Dominions are Jedis...and Jedis aren't wankers.




An Ophan/Throne, mainly because it is either a wheel or a throne, is not.




The Hoi Polloi might think that Cherubs are fat kids. Deep research (3 mins in Wikipedia) suggests that that's bollocks. According to the lad Ezekiel, Cherubs are 'a tetrad of living creatures, each having four faces: of a man, a lion, an ox, and an eagle. They are said to have the stature and hands of a man, feet of a calf, and four wings each.'
Why do you think they had hands of a man?
Exactly.




The Seraphim most definitely are. Think about it, they are incredibly hot but so hot that they can't do it with others. So....




Next we come to the masochist carpenter. There is a difference of opinion amongst the theosophical types regarding this contentious issue. Well, to save the readers' (who am I kidding, reader's [sigh]) time, let me summarize it. Its a simple either-or scenario.


Either
JC went around doing prostitutes
Or
He was a wanker
Or
He married Magdalene and they had offsprings etc and there is a long line of descendants ending in

Now coming to the big man

a. There is no Mrs. God
b. He liked to look at naked women (can't blame him) and kicked out Eve when she nagged him for clothes


Well, do I have to spell it out people?



GOD is a Wanker.

Revelation

29 years, 2 months and about 20 odd days.


That's what it took for the Fat Uncle Cheapo to find his true calling.


All this time he was waddling about pissing away his time dabbling in grammar, literature, mathematics, biology, logic (for some extremely illogical reason), geography, statistics, economics, history, political science, syntax, phonology, semantics, sociolinguistics, Russian, applied linguistics, Spanish, American law, banking, insurance etc etc.......but none of them attracted him enough.


But now he has found it, he finally has an ambition.


He now knows what to do.


You see he always thought that there are 2 types of people who actually get paid to mess around with women's you know whats - gigolos and plastic surgeons.


Now Cheapo can never become a surgeon because the training process involves dissecting frogs, rabbits etc. Deliberately killing and mutilating innocent animals when there are millions of Manchester United supporters roaming around is abhorrent and repulsive, not to mention repugnant.

So that's out.


Now since it has been established that women would rather drink poison, set themselves on fire and then jump out of a very tall building all the while hacking themselves with a HIV and tetanus coated chainsaw rather than take off their clothes in front of Fat Uncle Cheapo, being a gigoglo is also out.


Ergo Cheapo was ambling around procrastinating like no tomorrow.




But it has recently come to his attention that there is a 3rd type of profession which involves said activity - women's blouse making.


Apparently, women have no problems getting their you know whats measured and groped by these individuals.


Upon hearing of this, Cheapo's first reaction was "Eh??" followed by "Are you serious?" and "WTF!!".



But upon pondering about this he has come to the conclusion that this is in fact perfectly logical and reasonable behavior from a species that regularly pluck their own eyebrows out with a tweezer and then draw those eyebrows with a pen.



So, now that he has an ambition and a zest for life, the only thing left for Cheapo to do is to learn how to put a thread through a needle.







Ohhhhhhhhhh dear 

A grave injustice has been done in which Fat Uncle cheapo has somehow managed to infuriate and insult 2 ancient civilizations, millions of human beings as well as cats.


 Now Cheapo is not really bothered about the cats, those lying, scheming, stealing, mouse hunting, milk drinking, brainwashing, meow shouting, aspiring world dominators are the enemy anyway. You see, the cats have made extensive treaties with the aliens (for the benefits of people from USAUSAUSA, let me clarify that by aliens, I DO NOT mean Mexicans, but rather Venusians and those buggers from Uranus), the giraffes, the seagulls (led by the brothers Eric and Steven) and of course the octopuses.


It is of course a plan to raise Cthulhu.



Fat Uncle Cheapo, whose innate awesomeness allows him to see the future has, well, seen the future and has already made preparations for the impending battle. Treating with the dogs and the orangs have been made. The dolphins and the ravens will come on board anytime.


The only problem is that the damn cats have so successfully managed to penetrate the human brain and brainwash them that most people don't even realise the peril they are in.

We will see what happens.



Anyway, to come back to the point, Fat Uncle Cheapo's favorite niece - the mommy missing, Uber following, McDonald working, media studying, orgy hating, Missisauga living, Ayush supporting, Abhas baiting, perennially crying about EFLU (even Adam did not cry this much after getting bumrushed out of Eden) - Kiddo has adopted a cat.


Having no imagination, she started calling it Jacks (it would have made much more since if it was in Montreal and the cat was called Jacques). Cheapo rightfully called it a lame name and decided to rename it.


He called the cat Nebuchadnezzar. Unfortunately, there were protests from various quarters.


So Gilgamesh was chosen.



The problem is that the cat is Persian.....as it turns out Gilgamesh most definitely wasn't....if anything he was Babylonian.



For those not historically inclined, this is tantamount to calling George Washington a royalist, Vladimir Ilyich Lenin a capitalist, Montogomery Burns an environmentalist, Pat Rice alive, Twilight literature, Mamata Banerjee a communist, Wellbeloved heterosexual or post-modernists as anything apart from a complete waste of time.


You see, the Babylonians and Persians, have, with grim determination and concentration, continuously been fighting each other for close to 4 or 5000 years now.


So, see renaming the damn cat, has once again become a bit of a necessity.


And here are the options.


Silulumesh Inimabakesh
Untash-Napirisha
Shutruk-Nahhunte 

Ashurbanipal
Nabopolassar
Artaxerxes

What's with the Leprechauns

Note: I am only taking literature in mother tongues.


I have been reading this set of stories by this Irishman called Michael Scott. quite decent enjoyable stuff with lots of history and mythology chucked in for good measure.


However, it got me thinking.


What is it about those Guiness drinking, potato eating, green wearing, rainbow chasing, English hating, begorrah shouting, St Patty worshiping bunch of leprechauns that make them good authors??


Some of them are really bloody good. What is even more interesting (well mainly to jobless people like me) is that they are not restricted to any 1 particular field (unlike say the comrades). These nutters are/were good in:


poetry n stuff - Yeats
adventure stories to far away lands - Jonathan Swift
horror/supernatural - Bram Stroker,
taking the piss - Oscar Wilde (one of the greatest piss takers the world has ever seen)
soul-crushing despair akin to watching paint dry - J M Synge
religious stuff - C S Lewis (though I still have no idea why he was against lip-stick; I mean I am against lipstick ads, esp in the middle of matches; but I just don't give a damn about the product per se, why he was so indignant about it only he knows)
postmodernism la-di-dah stuff - Beckett (forever destined to be mistaken for that English archbishop)
killer and mutilator of ancient classics - Joyce
the 2nd most mis-quoted playwright/dramatist in English language (after William the Bald) - Congreve
founder of malapropism - Sheridan
the other play write and perennial late comer - Goldsmith
thriller writer - Jack Higgins, Declan Hughes, Bateman, Alex Barclay, Declan Burke, Arlene Hunt et all


and then there is the guy who wrote (in his own words, "Die hard - with fairies") and created the 3rd richest fictional character in history [http://www.forbes.com/lists/fictional15/2011/forbes-fictional-15.html] and a series 2nd only to Pottermania


and the guy who won both the Noble Prize [back when it meant something, before they completely fucking ruined it by giving Henry Kissinger the Peace Prize (more or less akin to giving me the Don Juan de Casanova award for Services towards Women's Orgasms) and then by awarding Obama for being black] and the Academy Award [before they ruined it by giving the Best Pic gongs to Titanic over Good will Hunting, Shakespeare in Love over Saving Private Ryan  and then Chicago over Gangs of New York]



See the diversity?


In comparison:


Let's look at the Comrades.

They have great legendary authors, no doubt. However, those vodka drinking, proletariat loving, aristocrat killing, Mongol fearing, Rasputin obsessing, Siberia holidaying Ivans have successfully and with complete and utter determination and confidence managed to churn out masterpieces with just 1 template - 


Ch 1 - The suffering
Ch 2 - Oh the suffering
Ch 3 - Why so much suffering
Ch 4 - Is there no end to this suffering
Ch 5 - The misery

and so on an so forth


The only times they go away from this template, they either end up with pedophilia (a certain Wellbeloved's favourite book of all time) or go complete bananas with the excitement and end up with cats, choir-masters, Mephistopheles, witches, Pontius Pilate and the world's biggest masochist.



Let's now look at the Cheese Eating Surrender Monkeys


The more or less continuous thrashings and subsequent and inevitable surrenders to the Romans, the Goths, The Huns, the Normans (or in other words their own expats), the Germans (repeatedly), the Italians and the Vietcong have given rise to a bunch of authors who more or less can't see anything positive anywhere. They end up writing stories where everybody dies (exception being Count of Monte Christo where almost everybody dies)


On the other hand, the more less continuous drinking of fine wine, eating of good food (and snails), keeping of mistresses and basically not working at all (35 hour workweek) have also shaped the psyche so much that they have managed to churn out stories where people travel around the world, or go to the moon or to the centre of the earth (and harass dinosaurs) or go off to fight krakens or solve awesome mysteries.


They have also managed to give rise to without a doubt the world's most famous village.


I am not taking any of the philosophers into account because..well they are philosophers and thus not to be taken seriously at all...and anyway Camus was a goalkeeper, and we all know keepers are a little bit odd.



Let's look at the Senors.


Those tapas eating, siesta loving, castanet clacking, flamenco dancing, bull-fighting, god fearing, India searching, ole shouting, constantly moaning and whining, Inquisitional, genocidal, perennial whipping boys of just about anybody and everybody (they couldn't even win a civil war) have never managed to get around to the idea of joy and fun.



Being more or less mightily busy massacring ancient blood thirsty civilizations and getting their own arses handed over to them over and over and over again by the Romans, the Vandals, the Muslims, the British, Bonny etc have had such a profound effect on the collective psyche that they can't even think beyond

• Pessimism
• Disillusion
• Worries about the passing of time
• Loss of confidence
• Windmills

I am not even considering those hemlock drinking, Alexander teaching, robe wearing, eureka shouting, Spartan/Persian hating, democracy (true democracy you know, for only the ones who matter, not for undesirables like slaves, poor people, and women) inventing, perennially fighting, Zeus and Poseidon fearing, "History" creating, theorem sprouting, Academy founding, Colossus building bearded omnisexual baldies.


Any lot who have within them the means of writing both the story of Odysseus as well as the story of that wanker Oedipus while creating western philosophy, history and geometry have to be left well alone....those buggers are dangerous, no ass is safe.




And finally, we come to the Hypochondriac Hypocrites


Compared to some of the other languages, written Bong is awfully wee....it is only about 600-700 hundred years old. And the first 500 hundred years of that time was spent on writing religious stuff. And then came the Britishers and a whole new world. And so came a whole new plethora of writers (Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay, Manik Bandyopadhyay, Tarashankar Bandyopadhyay, Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay) and stories based on the template


Boy meets girl
Option A - boy falls in love with girl
                  girl reciprocates
                  they elope/get married
                  they starve to death
Option B - girl falls in love with boy
                  boy reciprocates
                  they elope/get married
                  they starve to death
Option C - boy falls in love with girl
                  girl does not reciprocate
                  boy goes bananas or drinks himself to death
Option D - girl falls in love with boy
                  boy does not reciprocate
                  girl commits suicide or becomes a nun/female sadhu etc
                  

Thankfully these atrocities were later redeemed.

Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay first moved away from the template and wrote some war stories.
Michael Madhusudhan Dutta wrote an epic poem

Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay introduced the Bong people to one of the best detectives ever in any literature anywhere in the world
And then the Roy clan took over. Sukumar decided to take the piss off everybody everywhere, Lila Majumder wrote awesome kiddy stories and Satyajit redefined science-fiction, fantasy and mystery stories forever.
Sunil Gangopadhyay (mystery), Shirshedu Mukhopadhaya (comedy), Bimol Kar (mystery), Moti Nandi (awesome sports stories), Samaresh Basu (mustery) and Majumdar (mystery and adventure), Syed Mujtaba Siraj etc have further redeemed the Bong literature.



Though nowadays, it seems people are only writing about extra-marital affairs for some reason. So, its only a matter of time before the original template is readopted. SIGH.


Based on the fact that a little knowledge is a dangerous thingy and that I have no wish to look a fool in my own fucking blog, I am staying clear of German and Hindi/Urdu literature. I also have absolutely no fucking clue about Chinese, Japanese, Dravidian, Balkan, Portuguese, Scandinavian and Persian literature. And Arabian literature is beyond criticism after that awesome book of porn spanning 1001 nights. And I am not taking South American and African literature coz, well, all the good stuff (ye know the ancient tribal lores etc) is gone forever anyway. Fuck, sadly even their languages are dying. Its all in French, English or Spanish.


So I come back to the original question. What is it that makes the bloody Irish so much fun?