God Damn Common Whore Cold

I cough violently. I sneeze as loud as thunder, snot dripping.
I blow my nose into a tissue.
I know exactly who got me sick.
That chick with the pink hair I made out with after work.
The next morning, I felt raspy in my throat.
God damn common whore cold.

A few days later, I’m feeling better.
But, my roommates begin to exhibit symptoms.
Same violent coughs, loud sneeze, and snotty noses.
The unmistakable orchestra of the virus’s triumph.
God damn common whore cold.

A couple of weeks later,
The plague has spread to the dwellings of friends who visit often.
Wreaking havoc and causing despair,
Pink scabbed noses and constantly watery eyes.
Dozens of used tissues scattered about,
Empty medicine bottles and Vitamin C tablets,
Vain attempts to control,
That God damn common whore cold.

~Raul Felix

Read: Where Are My Whores?
Read: Eager To Pop My Cherry On The Battlefield
Read: The Witch In My Dream

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The She Serpent Wrapped Herself Around The Young Man

The She Serpent wrapped herself around the young man.
He had looked into her eyes, mesmerized by its beauty.
With a quick strike to the neck,
Venom began to flow through his veins.
It was painless. In fact, it was pleasurable.
He was none the wiser that his life blood had been tainted.
Mesmerized by those piercing eyes.

The She Serpent wrapped herself around the young man, tighter.
She hissed an enchanting hiss,
Its rhythm sparking grandeur illusions in his mind.
*Hiss* Yes, baby. *Hissssss* Of course, my love.
*Hiss* Anything you want, sweet heart. *Hissssss* Anything.
Enchanted by that gentle, rhythmic hiss.

The She Serpent wrapped herself around the young man, tighter.
The young man began to falter, losing feeling in his limbs.
*Hiss* Help me, baby. *Hissssss* But I love you!
His blood corrupted, bones breaking, lungs failing.
*Hiss* Show mercy, baby. *Hissssss* Fuck you.

The She Serpent unwrapped herself from the young man.
He lay there lifeless.
She analyzed him with those mesmerizing eyes,
Hissed with that rhythmic tongue,
Opened wide, ate him whole.
He was no more.
The She Serpent will be hungry again.

~Raul Felix

Read: She Was Traveling Through My Country
Read: For This One Day, She Made Me Forget

Read more of my work at Thought Catalog
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3 Signs A Woman Is A Dependopotamus

The Dependopotamus is a vile creature that can be spotted throughout all branches of the US military. She is the dependent of a military man and lacks any form of self-awareness and cognitive capacity to realize what an utterly worthless sack of shit she is. Since most women who marry a military man are upstanding people and citizens, the Dependopotamus is able to disguise herself as a person of character like an insurgent among the local populace. It takes a skilled eye to spot a Dependopotamus in the wild, but if you pay attention to these tips, then you, too, will be able to spot these wretched parasites in their natural habitat.

1. She has an unearned sense of entitlement.

The Dependopotamus has no real-world accomplishments to call her own other than dropping out of the cosmetology program of her local technical college because it just wasn’t her “thing.” Though she is a lazy bitch, she is also a prideful one who boasts to the world that she is a somebody. To sustain her masquerade that she is a contributing member of society, she’ll take her military man’s professional accomplishments and hardships as her own.

She holds on firmly to the belief that just because her husband is a Sergeant First Class, she automatically earns his prestige by proxy. She’ll look down on other women who are married to men who are of a lesser rank, even attempting to boss them around and implying that if they don’t do what she says, it could negatively affect their husband’s career. She shamelessly wears her husband’s rank, not realizing that just because a man sticks his dick inside her body, it doesn’t mean she gains ranks through whore-smosis.

You’ll see her in the comment section of military articles, talking about how her husband has been deployed three times and how hard that’s been to her on the home front, even though all she did was get fat as fuck, spend all his money, and have a half-dozen other cocks inside of her while her husband was in Iraq hoping not to get his legs blown off by an IED.

Yet she will insist on wearing her XXXL T-shirt with yellow pit stains on them that boldly proclaim to the world, “Army Wife: Hardest Job In The Army”—as if sitting on the couch while eating bonbons, fucking around on her iPhone, and watching Netflix as she lets the house get progressively dirtier can compare to being a real soldier. She’ll bitch about how lonely she is because her hubby is always working and deployed, and she’ll use that as her justification to fuck other men—despite the fact the she has no real career or even semi-respectable means of employment. She leeches off the trusting nature of her man in uniform. Poor sucker doesn’t even realize that his homely wife is the incarnation of what is wrong with modern society.

2. She spurts out one baby after another.

While dimwitted, the Dependopotamus is a shrewd beast who knows that there is one surefire way to trap a man: Bear as many of his offspring as possible. Since having a baby in the military is free thanks to the dependency benefits, she’ll be in a constant state of hosting and developing new fetuses that she isn’t certain are from her husband or one of her many lovers.

Though she has three or four offspring, she has little to no motherly qualities or skills. She will allow them to roam wild through the base’s housing tracts like feral critters as she sits in front of her computer Skyping her sister, a fellow Dependopotamus, bitching about how she feels military wives aren’t appreciated enough. She doesn’t see her offspring as children who need love, attention, and care; rather, they are pawns in her scheme to secure a permanent position in the life of her military husband—or, more importantly, a cut of his paycheck and benefits.

The Dependopotamus knows that she has no shot of surviving in the real world without someone else footing the bill. In a different life, she would be one of those women who lives off welfare and has seven kids by four different men, then expects the government to pay for her dumb cunt mistakes. Luckily for her, she grew up near a military base with plenty of young, desperate soldiers who don’t know any better. Like a predator on the hunt, she sought out the weakest of the pack and sank her claws and teeth into them. Poor Private Snuffy never stood a chance.

3. She is a fat fuck.

Not all fat chicks are Dependopotami, but nearly all Dependopotami are fat chicks. A hallmark trait of a Dependopotamus is her gluttony and sloth. Unlike a self-respecting woman who will take advantage of her free time to improve herself, educate herself, and at least keep some token form of physical fitness, the Dependopotamus is content with feasting on junk food, booze, and her husband’s soul.

When she does leave her den, the poorly bathed Dependopotamus will waddle very slowly to her car. She will then drive to the Dependopotamus social ground, the Post Exchange (PX). As she and other Dependopotami sit there eating their third Big Mac and gossiping away, they will scoff with jealousy at the younger, skinnier wives who aren’t complete pieces of shit like themselves. They will stare them down in an effort to shame them for giving their husbands a reminder of what a woman who actually takes care of herself looks like. God help the poor, pretty lady if her husband happens to be in the same chain of command as these green-eyed monsters. For surely they will make her existence miserable until she falls in line and agrees to take measures to become a blubber-bag herself.

The Dependopotamus is a paradox. She is an utterly useless woman with a high sense of entitlement and self-importance. She is completely repulsive, fat, and poorly hygienic but is able to secure a new dick willing to lift up her floopa and smash her guts easily. She is extremely fertile but should be on a list of human beings who aren’t allowed to reproduce because her genes are toxic and will only perpetuate more parasites throughout society. She’s poorly educated yet cunning enough to know all the benefits, regulations, and loopholes to keep her dependent status, secure child support, and extort alimony after divorcing her husband because he had the audacity to accidentally catch her doing a gang bang in their bedroom.

Armed with this useful information, you are now ready to go to your local military base and see if you can spot one of these creatures, but be warned—it will cause you to lose what little faith you may have left in humanity.

~Raul Felix

You can read more of my articles at Thought Catalog.

It’s So Hard To Say “No” To An Easy Lay

Holy shit, you’ve managed to pull it off again. You’re not sure how or why, but this bitch is all about your nuts. You’re making out sloppily and have your hands inside her jeans playing with her thong. Your friends watch you from afar, cheering you via thumbs-ups and tilted beer bottles. From the brief but magical thirty minutes of conversation you’ve had with this fair maiden, it’s apparent that her morals dissolve with every gin and tonic she drinks.

As you press her on the corner of the bar devouring her face, you realize this really isn’t about you. You did nothing to earn this. You only happened to be at the right place at the right time. She is not into you, but in her state of mind, sleeping with you (or any guy) will make up for the fact that her stepfather didn’t love her enough, or whatever other slut-justification mental gymnastics she’s going through in her head. She’s just needs dick—any dick.

Oh, well…fuck it.

You don’t care. She has a warm, wet hole that wraps itself around your dick. She isn’t girlfriend or even fuck-buddy material; she’s one of those chicks whose sole purpose is to keep you from slapping your dick tonight.

You gave a subpar performance. She wasn’t worthy of the intense fuck sessions you give to the girls that actually matter. She wasn’t even worthy of a hate-fuck. It was she’s-a-random-slut-and-I-don’t-give-two-shits-about-her-having-an-orgasm-god-I-hope-I-don’t-catch-herpes sex, and you nutted in a minute. You don’t even ask her how it was. She’s left unsatisfied and you don’t give a shit.

A couple of hours ago, her push-up bra exaggerated her boobs’ size and perkiness. Now, an uninspiring sight of flab and droop remains. What should have been a luscious booty was nothing more than a ruse set up by her ability to dress well. While she was utterly mediocre-looking amid the bar’s darkness, your excitement to fuck made you overlook many more of her flaws. Now you’re stuck with this creature for the night.

You lie in bed next to her, and she tries to cuddle up. You don’t want her close to you, but you know the courteous thing to do is to allow her to rest her head on your chest. You’re a gentleman and a scholar, after all.

She asks you questions about yourself. You give one-word answers. She says you’re very handsome. You don’t compliment her back. She begins to tell you about her life and problems; you pretend to listen while thinking about the millions of other places you’d rather be. You toss in the occasional “uh-huh,” or “oh, really?” or “cool” merely to keep up the masquerade.

You kind of hate her.

She gives subtle hints that she would like her pussy eaten. You love eating pussy, but you’re not eating hers.

She talks about how she needs a good man in her life. You’re a good man, but you’re not wasting your goodness on her.

She talks about how she doesn’t normally fuck guys that quickly and you’re a very special exception; you pretend to believe her.

She caresses your chest, arms, and stomach; you wish she would just shut the fuck up and go to sleep.

You feel your dick getting hard again; damn motherfucker has a life of its own. You excuse yourself to the bathroom. You decide to take a piss, and your erect dick makes it a challenge to get all your piss into the toilet. You’re buying time so you can lose your erection.

“You disgust me,” you say to your naked reflection. “You never learn your lesson,” you shake your head. You can’t say no to easy pussy, even from such a trashy girl.

Weak man.

A weak man who lets his dick lead him to fuck women below his own standards.

A weak man who lets his dick’s need to find a warm and wet spot for the night override all his logical thought.

A weak man who lets his dick dictate all aspects of his life.

You walk out of the bathroom with your dick at half-mast. She looks at it, comes over, gets on her knees, and starts sucking.

Oh, well…fuck it.

~Raul Felix

Read more of my work at Thought Catalog

Where Are My Whores?

I feel like my generation has been gypped. I’m not speaking about the typical Generation-Y woes with the failing economy and our youthful optimism and ambitions being crushed by the real world. This feeling of unfairness is only felt by a select group of Americans; the men who served and fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. There is much talk in the news about how both the Bush and Obama administration mishandled those wars, but I’m not here to get into those politics. While these modern wars gave us luxuries unheard of in past generations, there is one thing that past generations of veterans had access to that we were completely fucked out of: liberated groupies and prostitutes.

After the long, intense, brutal fighting of the D Day invasion against the Nazis and slowly reclaiming Europe, the Allied forces were met and seen as liberators of France. With panties drenched in lust for their liberators, French women would fuck soldiers left and right to show their gratitude. Joe was a hero and his reward, if he chose to act upon it, was that wonderful European pussy. In war, no man knows which day will be his last, so it would be logical for him to act upon it. These women knew what their valiant saviors desired and wanted, and provided it with the utmost eagerness.

Such a simpler time.

Such a simpler time.

What happened in Iraq and Afghanistan? Whether we liberated them from the Taliban or Saddam, they may have been grateful, but the women of these nations were not throwing themselves at American troops. They weren’t happily repaying us for their new found freedom from tyranny by eagerly showing us their beautiful Middle Eastern bodies. We didn’t have free rein to fuck Haji bitches and get them addicted to our American dick. No Haji foxy lady ever gave us the “I want to fuck you eyes”. Most of them were quite the opposite, covered up head to toe in veils. Denying the horny and sex deprived American fighting male the eye candy he sorely needs in an effort to keep his sanity. A pure selfish act on their part.

Not sure if she wants to fuck me, or she is about to detonate her suicide vest.

Not sure if she wants to fuck me, or she is about to detonate her suicide vest.

Well, if we couldn’t win the hearts, minds, and pussies of the local women, we should have been able to use the free market and purchase it at a mutually agreed upon price dictated by the laws of supply and demand, correct? That’s what our fighting men were able to do in the Korean and Vietnam War. After killing hoards of gooks, our brave and battle hardened men were able to go back to base and take a few days of R&R. Around the bases, there would be bars and massage parlors where a GI in need of company could easily acquire it. There would be an overabundance of young, feminine, and attractive asian women with adorable accents to chose from and eager to love him long time. He’d then ravage her delicate little body to his heart’s content and consequently, she would then get paid a handsome price, it was truly a win-win situation.

The free market at work.

The free market at work.

In an effort to not piss off the delicate Muslim psyche, the US Military has made it almost impossible for a man to get a prostitute while he is in the war zone. There is no interaction with the local populace outside of missions for most troops. There are no flings with Afghan or Iraqi women or meeting a prostitute with a heart of gold. There are no love affairs that are complicated by the horrors of war and cultural differences as drama slowly unfolds, when both parties learn that love can truly conquer anything. There are no bastard children of American men left behind. The closest we came to finding love overseas is through porn and nude pictures of our and other troops whorish, cheating ex-girlfriends we uploaded to “The Drive” and shared with the rest of the base.

Sex was happening in Afghanistan and Iraq, but that occurred in support units where there were mixed genders and among government contractors. As for the combat arms units compromised of solely men(the ones that actually did the fighting), were left in a state of sexual purgatory, without any hope of female companionship. No Afghan damsel worrying whether the American man she loves will make it back. No Iraqi prostitutes eagerly awaiting for her core American cliental to come by. Nothing but masturbation for us while our girlfriends from back home cheated on us or stopped answering our phone calls. Men at war and whores go hand and hand, too bad our times did away with that beautiful tradition.

~Raul Felix

“Me so horny for more blog baby. Give me blog, me love you long time!” Alright: The Military’s Parasite Problem

The Military’s Parasite Problem

There is a terrible parasite that can be seen throughout the military community in the United States. It goes unseen by the general public and the US government refuses to acknowledge its existence and the severity of the problem. Those with any time spent in the deep labyrinth of the US military have first hand accounts and know many a Joe who has fallen to these vicious leeches.

What is this unspeakable evil that has engulfed the military so? Why are there so many of our innocent American fighting men falling prey to it? To answer these questions, one must give a deep background into the mentality and conditions of the average enlisted Joe. For the sake of clarity, these descriptions tend to apply to males.

Most enlisted men in the military join from the ages 17-20, have no to some college education, and come from lower to lower-middle class families. Individual motivations greatly differ, from patriotism, adventure, college money, a step-up in life, heartbreak, or plain out boredom with their current state in life. For the most part, once they finish basic training, advance individual training, and whatever additional schools they go to, they end up at their unit with more money in their bank accounts than they have ever possessed in their lives.

Going from being broke to having a significantly higher level of expendable income is more than Joe’s fiscally illiterate mind can handle. They go to the mall and buy expensive clothes, shoes, big screen TV’s, video games, laptops, eat fancy dinners, and will even sign a loan of 13.99%APR on car that costs more than their annual income.

You’re probably thinking that fiscal irresponsibility is the parasite, but it’s not, that’s just the cut that attracts the true bloodsucker. Many Joe’s fall for the lowest of the low, the women who prey on men in uniform. These women tend to be overweight, ugly, and severely uneducated. We’re not talking about not having a college degree uneducated, we’re talking about where it’s questionable that they’ve ever read a book that didn’t have picture that popped out uneducated. What these women lack in redeeming human qualities they make up tenfold in shrewdness and shameless manipulation.

These living potato sacks will congregate at the local malls, dive bars, WalMarts, and under 21 night clubs in hopes of finding a military man that they can sink their whorish claws into. You see, Joe is very lonely, is away from home, and everything he has ever known. He lives in the barracks and if he’s in a combat arms unit, is surrounded by men most of his days. He doesn’t have access to the social life that most 18-22 college students do, where cute girls are in overabundance and meeting new people occurs frequently. His main social circle is the men in his squad and platoon, most of who are also not locals. So Joe goes off in search of companionship in the local community.

One day, poor, lonely Joe meets one of these creatures while walking around the mall. She is receptive of his advances since she can tell he is in the military by his high-and-tight and slim physique. Joe, desperate for companionship, is willing to overlook the many physical and character flaws this woman obviously possesses and instead focus on her not so unsightly features. Justifying to himself that he can at least pee in her butt until he finds someone better.

Oh, poor naive Joe, he thinks this devious wench will just let him leave that easily. She will speak grandly of her plans in life. How she wants to go back to school and get her degree, how she wants to lose the extra pounds in her body, and how she’s meaning to read more, but her job as a cashier at WalMart is too taxing. Joe will start to believe that this woman isn’t too bad after all. He is lonely, she is a decent fuck, and he is making okay money. He hasn’t really had much success with other women. The wench knows Joe isn’t doing too bad with that fancy car and big screen TV he possesses in his barracks room. She knows that military men have health insurance and if she can lock one down into marriage, she can get it too. Something her trailer trash roots would never have thought possible.

Joe is getting sick of living in the barracks and in its twisted logic;the military rewards service members who make poor decisions in their lives; such as getting married, with a pay boost called Basic Allowance for Housing (BAH). Simply by getting married to some random whore, Joe can nearly double his pay for doing the exact same job. Little does he know that the wench has made the decision for him. She is now pregnant with what is supposedly his child. She paints a fancy picture of the beautiful life they can have together and how she will forever support him. Joe, being a semi-honorable man, decides to do what is right and gets married to the mother of “his” child.

It’s all down hill from there. She spurts out child after child. Compounds her body size significantly and wears a faded, XXXL sized “Proud Military Spouse” shirt every where she goes. To compliment it, she also has a “Spouse: Hardest Job in the Military” bumper sticker to gain pity about how tough her life is. What about her dreams of going to college? All a ruse to make her seem like she has real ambitions other than being a leech. She quits her job at Wal-Mart and never gets another, claiming to be too overwhelmed by the children. She often cheats on Joe while he is doing a training exercise in the field or while he is deployed.

Joe’s life is miserable, this woman is the bane of his existence. But he can’t do anything about it. He is trapped in the military for the next couple of years, working 60-80 hours a week for what now seems like shit pay since his ogre of a wife spends it all and has maxed out his credit cards. He gets treated like shit at work and gets treated like shit at home. Joe sees no way out. He only joined the military because he wanted to go to war and kill people, then so he could go to college using his GI Bill. He is forced to reenlist for another four years. How else is he going to support a wife and three kids who may or may not be his?

Joe’s problems don’t end there though. One night he drinks a few too many with his boys back in the barracks and comes home drunk out of his mind. He vents out his frustration at the wife and how he thinks she is a whore and questions whether the kids are his and then passes out. The wench, seeing an opportunity, calls the police, has Joe arrested and claims that he hit her. Now, Joe is on lock down in the barracks ordered by his chain of command. The wench now has free-reign to get gang banged by other service members who don’t know Joe. Mean while, Joe is hapless, so he resorts to using his own tears for lube when he jerks off. They eventually get divorced, Joe’s bank account is depleted, has his pay garnished to pay for kids he later finds out aren’t his, but since the law sides with the “poor, victimized” woman, is forced to pay for anyways. A week later he uses the little bit that is left of his pay check to celebrate his 21st birthday.

~Raul Felix

You liked that you little wench? Have some more: Four Things You Didn’t Think of Before Joining the Army.

Influences: Maddox, Tucker Max, APB, TC Luoma

Every person who is worth a damn has had people who have inspired and influenced them. It can take the form of direct one on one lessons or through reading and watching. Either way, these mentors helped develop their actions and mindset for better or worse. It doesn’t matter whether you’re seeking to become an underwater basket weaver, stripper, rocket surgeon, or a writer on a self-named blog with hopes that it will get you hot blog groupies after they see how funny and clever your writing is and thus crave your cock; there are mentors out there for you. For my writing ambitions, dark sense of humor, and my mindset on life, the following four internet writers are my biggest influences.


Quite possibly the first true internet satirists. Maddox has had his page, The Best Page in the Universe, online since 1997. His headline: “This page is about me and why everything I like is great. If you disagree with anything you find on this page, you are wrong,” kicks you right in the taint and lets you know that your little dip shit opinion doesn’t matter. So much so that he even has a link to his hate mail and his responses to said hate mail, exposing the logical fallacies of its sender.

Maddox writes about beating your kids, killing yourself in very awesome ways, heavily criticizes little kids on their shitty art, and how big his balls are. He rants about minor and major things that annoy him everyday life. He portrays himself as the essence of manliness and his writing bursts with testosterone. So much so, in fact, that he wrote a book called The Alphabet of Manliness that became an instant New York Times Best Seller.

Careful ladies, this book will turn your clit into a dick.

Careful ladies, this book will turn your clit into a dick.

I discovered Maddox in 2003 when I was 15 years old. Though I’ve seen and read many funny stuff by that time, his complete disregard for what is appropriate to write about and what isn’t laid the framework for my humor. I found myself reading his whole entire archive in one night and eagerly awaiting updates for his next article. I would share them with my friends, some liked it and some hated it. I learned through his writing that humor really has no limits, to stand by ones writing, and never try to please anyone. He states that his site started with fewer than 5 readers a month and got to the point of a million readers a month through a lot of hardwork and not bitching and moaning people to link to him.

Tucker Max

The most famous name on this list. With his infamous introduction, “My name is Tucker Max, and I am an asshole.” Tucker Max sets the stage for the internet phenomena known as The Tucker Max Stories. These are epic and wonderfully crafted tales of drunkenness, sexual promiscuity, and highly inappropriate and outlandish behavior. Mostly occurring when he was 20-28, he writes about having anal sex for the first time, the first midget he fucked, and the ego crushing knowledge that he may not be the only man a woman has fucked that day.

What makes it shocking to prudes with no real sense of reality, is that The Tucker Max stories are real. These events actually occurred and he has fucked all these moronic whores, caused all this havoc, and called out all the losers that he detailed in his stories. He has done all of this and still is with us today. People call his life surreal and over-exaggerated (because their idiots), but he even claims that he hasn’t really done anything that isn’t out of the ordinary. Guys have fucked sluts and gotten drunk since the beginning of time, he was just the first to write about it.

This man is the reason I have lost faith in womankind. Thanks Tucker!

This man is the reason I have lost faith in womankind. Thanks Tucker!

The unique thing about Tucker Max’s writing is that underneath the comedy and shenanigans, there are many life lessons to be had. When I first started reading his work at age 19, I was in a more innocent frame of mind about women and their whorish mannerisms. So when I read his stories, I was a bit shocked that women would go for a guy like this. I kept on reading on and discovered why. As much of an asshole as Tucker was, he had confidence in himself and didn’t take shit from anybody. He had the balls to approach and get rejected. He would call out women on their bull shit and they either loved him or hated him. One thing he wasn’t though, was a carpet to for them to walk over. Women don’t respect a man they can walk all over, much less fuck him. It started to make sense why those girls I wanted before wouldn’t have me and fucked some other asshole. Because I was nice. So I began to apply those lessons to my life, stopped being nice, and became more aggressive. My success with women steadily improved and compounded.

Angry Patriotic Bastard

In a time when there were too many apologetic Americans complaining about the evil empire that we have become, came along Angry Patriotic Bastard. Even though his blog was short-lived and he hasn’t written in over seven years, his message stayed with me. APB loved to talk shit on the pussification that has come of American culture. Having absolutely no qualms about calling out the things he truly hated, he would write blog post after blog post of politically incorrect rhetoric attacking hippies, bicyclists, muslims, and Florida rednecks.

No one was above the scrutiny of APB’s political mind set. He believed in an America where we are on top of the food chain and every nation bowed to our powerful, raging cock of freedom. In his mindset, like it or not, America dominates the world. If we don’t’ control you economically, we control you with our pop culture. How many of you are using products designed by Americans and made by little slave Chinese kids? You’re damn right it’s not going to be little slave American kids making that shit. They’re too busy being molested by their step-father.



His writing style is very aggressive and hellbent on offending you, pulling it off in a masterful way. While I personally try to avoid political subjects in my writing, because I find it exhausting to keep up with and it becomes irrelevant a couple of weeks or months later, he was able to create timeless political writing that if you read it today, still applies and will make you laugh your ass off.

TC Luoma

On the calmer side of the spectrum comes TC Luoma. He writes for the bodybuilding website, T-Nation in his series called The Atomic Dog, later renamed The Testosterone Principles. The main theme is becoming a better man. Better yet, not being a pussified modern man that feminism(stupid cunts) has pushed onto us. Instead become a man who embraces his testosterone, who shamelessly pursues the good things in life: women, beer, working out, meat, and sex.

As shallow as those subject matters sound, his writing always has an underlying tone of taking accountability and responsibility for your life. To pursue a life of constant learning, reading, and improving over all. Whether it’s chasing your dream to become poker player or getting out of the rat race that is the norm of our society.

He hates how our society has become more feminine and estrogen centered, and how testosterone gets a bad name for being seen as too aggressive and ape like. He points out that testosterone is the reason behind all that drive us as humans. Men with higher testosterone are smarter, stronger, have a higher libido, and are more ambitious than men of lower testosterone levels. Men with low testosterone tend to be fucking slobs, losers, scrawny, or overweights sacks of shit.

And his hair is glorious.

And his hair is glorious.

Through his writings, I’ve learned to embrace my manhood unapologetically. I’m a man and I will act like one. I expect my woman to act like a woman and be feminine. Fuck that politically correct bull shit.

Their writing is low-brow, unacademic, and not meant for those who suffer from having sand in their vagina. But these men have had more of an influence on the development of my mind than any school, teacher, or professor.

~Raul Felix

You like that? Good! Check out: Four Things You Didn’t Think of Before Joining the Army.

The Pick-Up Follies: The Gimp

It was the summer of my third year in the military and I got a phone call from my Army buddy, “Schooner”:

Schooner: “Hey bro, what the fuck are you doing?”

Raul: “Nothing, what’s up?”

Schooner: “Come down to Olympia. I’m with two chicks and they’re down to fuck. I told them about you and they want to meet you.”

Raul: “Sweet, I’ll be over there”

I say without missing a beat.

I jump into my truck and drive down to Olympia, WA to the address he text me. I get to a small suburban neighborhood and locate the house. I knock on the door and a blonde, mediocre looking girl, barely clearing the age of 18 opens it. Then from behind her, comes out Schooner. He leads me to the living room of their house. I find out that the Blonde is a friend with the girl who rents the place. Then from the kitchen, walking awkwardly, comes the “The Gimp.”

As I sit there and listen to them talk, I found out more about The Gimp. She is decent looking woman, aged 28, is about 4’11” and weighs no more than 100 pounds. She had small breasts and no ass. Pretty much a walking, limping stick with a decent looking face. I wonder why she is walking like that, so I whisper to Schooner:

Raul: “Why the fuck is she walking like that?”

Schooner: “Her spine is fucked up. She got in a car accident a few years ago.”

Raul: “Oh, that fucking sucks.”

Schooner: “Yeah, but she is slutty as hell.”

Raul: “Cool.”

At this time in my life I wasn’t the ladies man that I am today. It was sporadic when I hooked up with random chicks. So I wasn’t really in a position to be too picky about a potential dick wetting experience. She brought me a beer and asked:

The Gimp: “Do you know Snuffy and Snaplink?”

Raul: “Yeah, Snuffy lives on the same floor as me and Snaplink is always at his room drinking and playing video games.”

The Gimp: “Yeah, they’re hot, I fucked both of them at same time the other night.”

I sit there not knowing how to respond. Back then I was relatively innocent of the knowledge of how big of utter whores women can be and had not fully developed my jaded and dark attitude towards them.

Raul: “That’s cool.”

I sit there silently thinking to myself that all I want to do is get the fuck out of there. My sexual moral compass was that of a nice kid who wanted to only fuck a girl he cared about and maybe have random hook ups with slightly slutty girls who “usually don’t do that sorta thing.” Not full blown whores whose pussy walls have catered to hundreds of cocks. At least lie to me, bitch.

Schooner and the Blonde start making out. The Gimp grabs my hand and leads me to her bedroom. I’ve barely talked to this girl and she is already leading me to her bedroom. I don’t resist. I start feeling a bulge developing in my pants at the thought that I’m going to fuck her. “Whatever, she’s not that bad looking,” I justify to myself. “I have condom, so I’ll be good.” As we cross the threshold of her room, I smack her almost nonexistent ass, she turns around, and we start kissing. Then I throw her down on her bed and jump on top of her.

The Gimp: “Shhhh… we’re going to have to be quiet. My baby is sleeping.”

Raul: “What?”

The Gimp: “My baby, she’s sleeping.”

She points to the crib I didn’t notice and in there was a baby, no older than three months, sleeping. I didn’t want to know anything about her baby’s daddy, so I refrained from asking. I’m sure if they were still together, I wouldn’t be the last guy she’d cheat on him with. We continue to kiss and I undress her down to her bra and panties. As I work my hands down to her panties, I notice what could only be described as a perfect irony, her panties had a huge cherry right on the crotch. I take a half-second to smile to myself, which I’m sure she misinterpreted as excitement.

As I pull them off, it hits me like a bag of rocks. A very foul stench. What the fuck? Confused, I pause to think of the source of this, and then I realize its coming from her pussy. Holy fuck. This bitch’s pussy smells worse than a fish market on a hot day. I compose myself and quickly think of an escape plan. No way am I fucking or touching that reeking clam of death.

Raul: “Oh shit!”

The Gimp: “What?”

Raul: “I have to go. I forgot that I have to be somewhere very important right now.”

The Gimp: “What? Where?”

Raul: “Don’t worry about it, I just have to go. Sorry.”

I jump out of bed, pick up my clothes, and run to her sink to wash off my face, hands, and use my finger to brush my teeth in a desperate attempt to get the taste and smell of whore off myself.

I step out of her house, get into my truck, and drive off. Her nasty, whorish taste still in my mouth, and reeking of her pussy funk. God damn it. Why can’t it ever be good girls who are down to fuck?

EPILOGUE: I later learned The Gimp was notorious for fucking guys from my unit. I’ve heard of many guys fucking her, maybe she actually washed herself beforehand. But knowing the sexual standards of some of the men I served with, it didn’t matter. She is and will forever be known compassionately as The Gimp. It wouldn’t surprise me if she is being double penetrated right now.

To recap, it wasn’t her whorish behavior that drove me away, or that she probably still had juices from another man inside her, or the fact that her freshly minted baby was right next to us. It was her wretched, stinky pussy. So ladies, take heed, if you’re going to act like a whore, at least don’t smell like one.

~Raul Felix