Posted in astronomy vs astrology, babylonian era, fashion, rapeape mentality, women's reproductive health | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

the insanity of the term “cisprivilege”

(and why this made-up term is really bullshit made up by trans-centered and clueless transactivists. Julia Serano comes to mind, actually, as do her neophyte glomlings) http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/cisprivilege



(LGBT, neologism) The social advantage enjoyed by those who are cisgender/cissexual.

Who uses the term “cisprivilege” and what does it mean to them? Transwomen use this term without having any idea at all how profoundly offensive it is to born-females. What transwomen mean when they say born-females enjoy “cisprivilege”

  • You can grow your hair long and NOBODY questions you! omg!
  • you get to wear dresses and pantyhose and paint your toes and nobody calls you a fag!
  • shopping for high heels. srsly!
  • having doors held open for you by chivalrous dinosaurs
  • getting “dressed” in feminine clothing of any kind, especially little black dresses
  • being a cheerleader, or Hooters girl.
  • going to a bar and having all your drinks paid for, and cigarettes gifted by, your orbiters
  • lipstick and gloss and sparkly blush or eye shadow…so girly!
  • sweet sixteen parties! why can’t boys have them! so unfair!
  • all-girl slumber parties! #ragenvy
  • vaginas! and boobs!
  • being Daddy’s little girl and getting a new Camaro for your seventeenth birthday. Wow!

Here is an incomplete list of the social “advantages” of so-called “cis” sexual females.

  • having the Amber Alert system named after you!
  • FBI rape statistics. Look them up!
  • female-only rape shelters
  • being a college-aged woman, going for a walk in the woods with a politician boyfriend and never being seen again
  • female genital mutilation
  • foot-binding
  • wife-burning
  • being acid-splashed or beheaded by your father for failing to obey Shariah
  • being hunted down and killed by your brother or cousin, as an “honor killing” for dropping the hajib and dating Western men
  • “want some candy, little girl?” says the creepy pedo in the Buick pulling up alongside a fourth-grade girl walking home from school
  • being abducted out of a shopping cart by a ball-cap wearing man while mom is in the next aisle over, and disappeared, never to be seen again
  • losing your virginity to your Dad, Uncle, Grandfather, brother or cousin
  • first period, (menarche) occuring during the first class of the day in junior high! is that blood on your desk chair?
  • periods, period! cramps, water weight, swollen ankles, swollen abdomen, weird food cravings and aversions, being “pissed-off” (all freakin day!) moodswings, aunt flow, blood clots, ew! pads or tampons laydees?
  • the morning-after pill. The condom broke he said, time for Plan B, girls!
  • creepy gynecologists and your pelvic exams!
  • being locked into your father’s basement from age twelve to age twenty-two, and bearing or miscarrying one or more of your Daddy’s rape-babies.
  • being sold by your family – works for royalty, all the way down to the peasantry
  • having asshole MALES scream at you and shove pictures of feotuses in formeldahyde in your face as you walk into an abortion clinic to terminate a rape or otherwise unwise or unwanted pregnancy
  • ectopic pregnancy. ouch!
  • PCOS. how do you like my Captain Morgan and my she-goat? hey transwomen, got the name of a good electrologist?
  • dying while giving birth. it still happens in this country and it was once a very common way for women to die. Still common in underdeveloped countries.
  • being killed or having a male stalk or attempt to murder you, for becoming a feminist. It’s more likely than you think, right trans?
  • Being the exclusive prey item on a sociopath, psychopath or narcissists serial killer murder spree wanted list: Ed Gein, Ted Bundy, Donald Neilson, Gary Leon Ridgway, Dennis Rader, and my personal favorite, Gentleman Jack the Ripper, stalker and killer of prostitutes
  • Being a widow, with no surviving family, forgotten and alone in your house at the end of a street.
  • being homeless and pregnant, or pregnant and headed to prison!
  • not having medical pros or law enforcement take you seriously when reporting medical or criminal events
  • being mansplained to by males in your family, friend circle or professional peers
  • and so much more!

What transwomen mean by female “cisprivilege”: “omg, you totally get to be feminine and nobody questions you, your sexuality or your state of mind! plus boobs! and vaginas!” what females understand as “cisprivilege”: femicide, sexism, rape and oppression

Posted in feminism, gender identity disorder, gender identity politics, reality, shared boyhood | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 65 Comments

My encounter with a transgender woman in the women’s locker room


It was the whistling that clued me in that there was a man in the women’s locker room. I had just finished my lap swim, and I was taking a shower when I heard whistling in the next room over. I thought to myself, “what the hell?” and “it must be the janitor”. And because I had no desire to walk unclothed into the locker room with a man present, I dallied and continued my shower. I assumed the whistling would stop in seconds because the janitor would finish quickly and get out. But the whistler kept whistling, so I kept showering.

I kept listening for the expected sound of the locker room doors crashing open and shut as the janitor departed, but it did not happen. Cautiously, I wrapped myself up in my towel and peeked around the corner of the shower room into the locker room.


The whistler was a six foot tall woman in late middle age. Her back was to me as she stood at a locker arranging her things. I knew instantly, that she was trans. Given my past history, I had no desire to be seen naked by a late transitioner. I ghosted over to my locker and grabbed my bag and darted to a changing stall.

As I was putting my clothing on, a young Asian woman had come out from the lap swim and started showering off. At this point, the transwoman ceased whistling, and I could tell by the sound that she had sat down on the bench to change.

The Asian woman, probably twenty-something, finished her shower quickly and walked naked from the shower to the locker room, toweling herself as she went. At this point I came out of the changing stall, dressed in my street clothing, sans my socks and sneakers which were still in my locker.

I glanced sidelong for a split-second at the tall, broad-shouldered transwoman as I approached the benches. The transwoman was gawking at the Asian lady as she was getting dressed. The woman had her back to the transwoman as she finished drying off and began dressing, so she did not see what I saw. I saw The Gaze. The gaze I had avoided by dressing in the changing stall, when I realized that the whistler was a transwoman.


The transwoman continued to disrobe and put on her own bathing suit in preparation for her swim. But as she did, she continued to gaze at the Asian woman as she got her clothes on. I saw the whole thing out of the corner of my eyes. The Asian girl looked at the floor. The transwoman looked at the Asian woman. I shot glances at the transwoman. The transwoman never looked directly or indirectly at me, perhaps because I was clothed.

Very. Very. Awkward.

I suspect that the transwoman frequented another public swim location, and that her appearance at the pool I liked to go to was a result of maintenance at the one she attended. I had no desire to share that locker room with that transwoman again, and I avoided that particular pool for a couple months afterward in the hopes of not encountering her again. I haven’t yet, so I assume it was either a random encounter or that she frequented a different pool.

The main point of the story is, whistling in the women’s locker room. Dead giveaway that there was a man in there. Only it was a transwoman. A transwoman who could not keep her eyeballs off the young Asian girl, whose back was turned to the transwoman as she got dressed.

Even though that transwoman is recognized as female and did not have a penis, she doesn’t belong at the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival any more than I do, for the reasons I described here.

While I know that some women do whistle, that’s not the issue I am trying to highlight. The problem was the fifty-odd years of living in a man’s body, with a brain bathed in male sex hormones and a culture that teaches men that women’s bodies are theirs for the gazing at.

A transwoman may claim that she feels like a woman inside, but transition and a sex change does not remove the lifelong Patriarchy socialization that conditioned the transwoman to feel entitled to gaze and gawk. And I do mean gawk. There is a difference between a transient glance at someone else in the locker room, and the long, lingering, scanning stare that the transwoman played over the Asian woman’s body. In this case the transwoman’s actions spoke more about her socialization than her feminized body or her identity.

This example that I share with you highlights why places like Michfest are important. They give born-females a chance to organize and be away from both Male Gaze and the man-culture that encourages women to be the gazed-upon.

Posted in gender politics, shared boyhood | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 33 Comments

on becoming a servant

Goddess watch over me

Goddess watch over me

When I went and started living full-time as Plastic Girl, I started my life, all over again. Because I was young, with no degree or trade, I had no marketable skills.

My resume had previously been filled with blue-collar stuff, like working in factories, doing janitorial work, temp work in construction, that sort of thing. I mean, once I was out of my teens as an adult, I left fast-food and pizza delivery to get into the 12-hour graveyard shifts of industrial labor. Such is the life of working poor. You take what you can get, and you make the best of it. When the labor demand dries up, you find another job.

In the post 9-11 world, blue-collar industry was destroyed in the slow downward spiral they call the Great Recession, or something. When I transitioned into Plastic Girl, I still had nothing but my blue-collar background.

When I went on to live my life “full-time” as Plastic Girl, I moved from my transition town to a new city for a fresh start, where ostensibly, no one would know me from my old life.

The problem was, I was no longer living in an unincorporated area on the edges of an industrial and warehouse sector. I was living in a Big Name City which has a clear middle and upper class, as well as a lower class. It really is a caste-system based (partly) on what skills you have on your resume. I had no white-collar skills on mine, to save my life.

Very soon after I started my new life, I ran out of money! Getting a nine-to-five gig where I could stand on my feet all day, forty-plus hours a week and do mindlessly simple and repetitive manual tasks for minimum wage was Freaking Hard! It just was not happening, thanks to Nine-Eleven.

In no time at all, during the course of using up my money for the job hunt, I became destitute. And due to my trans-related medical issues, I needed access to medical care. I found a GLBT-friendly clinic with a sliding scale fee schedule.

While I was in the waiting area, I met other transwomen and men. Some of these transwomen fell in love with me, on sight.

Others could barely believe that yours truly was in a free clinic for the underclass. Mainly because, to put it simply, I was young, white, healthy-looking, in good spirits and fairly confident in my identity as Plastic Girl. This made me magnetic, or something, because I attracted transwomen and chasers like nobody’s business.

The fact of the matter is, I was alone, in a new city, in a new life, and I had no friends. I accepted the attentions of some of these transwomen. And that is when I got my education about surviving Teh Street. Surviving being (truly) poor. Getting by, as an underclass.

There was a time when I thought people who applied for welfare were just too lazy or too unmotivated to keep striving until they got a job. I had always associated welfare as being for families of immigrants, or women with children. That was when I was younger, and stupider and far more mabtastic.

I found out from my new trans-friends, that I could collect a small stipend, food stamps and some vouchers for public transportation, if I was willing to humble myself in order to go to the city welfare agency, and ask for help.

So. Because I could not get a job doing what I knew how to do best, I destroyed my mab-ego-pride a little more, and went down to the welfare office to apply for welfare, right alongside those immigrants and single women with children.

I had never done anything like that before, and I felt ashamed that I was left with no other choice, simply because I could just not get a regular honest job. But I did it, and I qualified, and I got food stamps and the whole nine yards.

One day, one of my trans-girlfriends asked me if I wanted to make some easy money to augment my welfare stipend. Of course, I said “Yes”. So. Then we went to a bar that caters to hooking up TGs with MABs who like them.

My friend showed me the ropes. I watched her, and I learned. In no time at all, she had brought some older guy in his fifties over to our table. Turns out, he was willing to pay us each $100 dollars if we would let him watch us make out/make love while he fapped and did a bump of meth or two while fapping.

We brought him back to our place, and everything went according to plan. He was a decent guy to us both. We both “earned” our trick money that night, and it paid for internet, clothes, toiletries, that sort of thing.

My friend used to do the street walk scene. This can be very dangerous work. It is fraught with abusers, some of whom will think nothing much of pulling a knife on you when you get into their car, insist on a free BJ, and then kick you to the curb after he comes in your mouth. This actually happened to my friend one night, while I was inside the bar pacing myself on a glass of red wine, scoping out potential dates.

She picked up a trick from a sidewalk pull-over while she was outside having a cigarette (or fag, as you Brits say), and she was assaulted the instant the door closed and the car pulled away. The john left her without due compensation for services rendered, about four blocks away from the bar I was in. It was pretty awful.

I realized I didn’t want to do the street scene, if I could avoid it. I have done it a handful of times before, but, I trust my spidey-sense and so, when I would get a bad feeling about the vibe coming off a john who is scoping me, I walked back into the bar. It was much better and safer and generally paid better to screen my dates at the table over a drink, then to actually step up to a J that pulls over to the sidewalk for you.

My friend was not very good at saving money and nor did she have a head for business of any kind. So, she spent her meager street-walker earnings as fast as she got it. But I saw a better way to survive and thrive and get ahead and move up financially.

What happened over the course of two months was, I slowly saved up my bar-trick money, and then used it to launch my own business as a call-girl. Then, I got into hyper-femininity.

Within two weeks I had burned up all my saved money on a sexy wardrobe, makeup, grooming stuff, all the girly things a bottom girl wears to show menz she is a bottom.

During my first week of being a real call-girl, I made more money in cash for a few hours of work, than I made in a forty-plus hour-a-week job where I worked my fingers and back to the bone while standing on my feet all day.

With that kind of money, I got off welfare. I didn’t need it! I didn’t want to collect it, unless I really and truly needed it. My welfare stipend for a month was like, $220 dollars, with $100 dollars in food stamps to go with it. I was able to get into better housing of my own effort and new-found financial privilege. This kind of quick and easy cash under the table, upgraded my standard of living and consumption in no time at all.

I had my first ‘girl-friend’ date soon after I started advertising. I was called and booked for an appointment. I got ‘dressed’ and performed all the femininity rituals, including foot-hobbling and short skirts.

I took a cab to a Big Time Ritzy Hotel and was admitted to an amazing hotel suite with a near-panoramic view of the night-time city. It was, well, lovely. For that evening I was a faux-girlfriend and sexual servant to a (nice) VIP mab. He left me a white envelope with five hundred dollars in it. For four hours of work. Less than an hour of the total time spent with him was actual sex-worker stuff.

I would take a couple of these kinds of appointments a week. I would sometimes take quicky appointments at my home that involved various short and sweet sexual services, but my specialty was the “girl-friend” experience. This means, being a servant-girl and submissive to menz for a couple of hours. Being his “date” to dinner and drinks, and or whatever.

I learned to be a good listener. I learned to let guys talk and let them relax and enjoy my femininity and openness. I learned to please someone besides myself. And after awhile, I got good at it. De-stressing guys who wanted no-strings faux-intimacy with a girl they did not have to see ever again, was my job for the better part of a year and a half.

If someone had told me when I was eighteen years old, that I would be living as a woman and a call-girl in a Big City three thousand miles away from my rural hometown in a mere seven years down the road, I would have laughed at the insanity and imagination of the idea. But that is where I found myself, within five months of going full-time with my life as Plastic Girl.

When you are poor and you ask others for help just to stay alive, your ego goes away. It has no choice, but to die. This will change your personality.

Your ego gets shattered a bit more, with each and every new level you are forced to bend and yield to. You learn to say “please” and “thank you” and “I am sorry (if I offended)” with total sincerity, because, after enough repetitions, your submission will no longer be an act, but just a fact.

When rich MABs, or educated and business-type women look at you momentarily as you pass them by on the street on the way to the bank to deposit the money you made the evening before, you avert your eyes and look at the ground. Because, you know your place as a transwoman and prostitute.

Posted in reality | Tagged , , , , | 18 Comments

A lesson in trans-boundary fail

(MAB) pride doth go before a fall
The price of having an opinion, especially when it wounds mab pride, is to be endlessly assaulted and abused for it!

I knew when I made this blog, what the inevitable result was going to be. I was on the internet, a long time ago, and I know how things work here. I know, that all you mtfs are 1337 hax. I know this. :)

I can feel the stiff dicks of wounded trannies probing my defenses, trying to see how well turtled I am here, looking for any holes you can stick your dicks into.

I pretended like I was going into sanitization mode, by locking down two posts with passwords, AS ANOTHER TEST.

The passwords were weak, and there is no incriminating, personal information about me in them, at all. No personal data. No names. NO IMAGES OF ME. None of that stuff.

Both of those posts have been read several times today.

I can feel you thrusting your dicks on me. With each attempt to violate me, you only expose yourself to be a MAB. And a TERMINALLY DOODLY ONE. Stop trying to pretend to be women, if you can’t respect them!

The full Hexydezimal takedown.

The setup:

JH’s blog. I said, “Hi!” and H followed me back to my blog via profile linking stalking.

The psychology of passing.

(Hint. Boundaries are about respect and space.)

If I say or even hint, “Stop.” “Desist.” “This is bugging me.” “You are annoying me.” If I say anything like that, or take it all the way to, “Uninvited,” “Unwelcome,” that means STOP and GO AWAY. For REALZ.

Really simple, right? No.

Most WBW know a thing or two about oppression and humility so, if a woman gets told off, she may feel hurt, but, she goes.

Not so with a dude. Especially young dudes. Especially young wounded dudes looking for approval, mothering, whatever, because they are ego-deficient, unloved, not given enough attention, emo, whatever. Something is wrong with their mind. 

And such a person becomes a GIANT ENERGY HOG who can’t stop trying to get a response, reaction or anything. As long as you feed HIM, Even if, this energy becomes mean or bitter or angry, it is still attention and counts as food for a greedy male grubling.

You see, “Go away,” from a woman to a male is a challenge that means:

Let’s see how far I can insist and bludgeon and intrude, until I am completely hated!


Pool’s Closed.

More parlor stuff. I stood with my hands at my sides and asked him to piss-off.

He kept coming!

I said,  “I won’t stop you. You can keep coming, but it’s intrusion, and it’s only DESTROYING any chance of trust or respect from me, to you.”


I told him he had crossed the line into cyber-stalker-ville. That it seriously was time to get a clue and STOP. Enough is enough already.



Finally, it was time to for HIM to show everyone, trans, non trans, feminists, rad fems, random people, that I was dealing with a GUY socialized as a GUY who was INSISTING to ME and the ENTIRE WORLD that HE was a WOMAN.


And that, my friends, is how Hexy fell.

He was through, finished, with being any kind of TRANS-activist for ME. Because he was neither woman nor trans, he was a GUY, MBM. End of story.

During his ejaculation of wounded MAB pride all over my blog, Hexy, took it ALL THE WAY TO STALKERVILLE. Included in some of the posts he posted here recently (after he knew he was done with posting here days ago) were:

Threats that this was JUST beginning

That we were SO not done.

That he was bringing in BACKUP to intrude on my space, knowing he was unwelcome!


All threatening language to any woman on earth, right?

Not doodly in any way. Not at all.

Once his drag queen buddies started poking their dicks at me, I knew, I was getting GANGED UP ON by immature little boys, all for the purpose of soothing and stroking wounded MAB pride.

And so, we have this page. Stalkerific. As proof positive that:


Proof? If you can’t stay away when asked, you are a guy, you are stalker material, domestic violence material, generally female-hating, woman-hating behavior. And when you get this kind of attack for asking to BE LEFT ALONE, the hypocrisy has to END.

When will stop, ever really mean STOP to a DUDE? When?


Thus, we all see here, that Hexy was a dood in a dress, that is transitioning in his mother’s basement; a dood who got his female socialization skills from fapping to pr0nz.

Freaking. Obvious.

And. He was trying to psychically attack and get more attention (FOOD for male grubs), from feminists who had been abused or were sick of dudes.


Trannies like *H, are the cancer that is killing trans. He had to go down.

*And LEXY.

Posted in gender identity disorder, gender politics | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 34 Comments


and so it was, that Todd came back home from The Sandbox with a purpleheart and some very vivid memories.

as he enters his modest home, glad to be back with his family, he detects… something… gravely. amiss.

his wife is hiding in the bedroom with bottles of xanax, for her ptsd, that she acquired apparently from accidentally aggrivating some trolls soon after making a twitter account and twitting a few opinions. they concerntroll deaththreat her account unceasingly.

his daughter. is a headstone. having od.d six months after her mastectomy and testosterone flush as a failed f2m experiment.

he walks into his sons room to find him wearing a dress and fapping to shemale porn.

turns out he is also trollin his mom along with her other tormentors…

walks back out of the housen

calls his best unitwarbud in the vicinity that came back from deployment, as he gets back in his car and turns the ignition…

“did the same thing happen to you when you came home just now?”

“close enough i guess.”

“lets meet at seveneleven at the mcdonalds in a half hour.”

“see you then.”

and the next day, two of them go shopping for a large dog. a retriever or shepard or hound. maybe two.

then buy a solarpowered micro tv to catch espn while cable is still on.

.then head to northern wisconsin or maine or new york…

find the last clear brook, creek, or lake that doesnt contain mutant feminized male fish and frogs.

and the two of them larp it up like les stroud without a production schedule. as the rest of society goes out the window.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Dear Julia Serano

Julia, if you are reading this it means…

All my life I have endured my sufferings like a proper Catholic.

The usgov had me, a daughter of the american revolution, and a Third Order Franciscan, with a grandfather who lost his hearing as a radioman on a Navy ship in WWII…

sentenced to death in a braingaol as a young girl.

I understood noone wanted me when i arrived on Earth.

I got out of our law-abiding, god-fearing, progress-oriented American Society by OD in catholic holy ground as a gift to myself for my 20 bday.

unfortunately, i lived.

i apologize to God and the Prez and America and teamtrans* for surviving.

i just wanted to lie down. go to sleep. and not wakeup until a faerie godmother kissed me and told me i could wake up because i was. safe.

and could live and love again.

i forgave everyone who hurt me, and moved on to follow my dreams.

i achieved all of them in short order after i woke up out of my coma and made the decision to try life all over again.

you should know, that as the crusading leader of TranScumUnity,

the very secret you crossed my boundaries and learned my name, you and evrry tranny in your dwessups club, fell on your swords in plain view of the NSA…and terminated the twanzgendurrrp empire.

befire you have that navyseal in drag kill me over michfest…

would it be okay with you, if we all hold off.. for a short while.

i would like to go to see Tori Amos and hear her soothing siren songs one more time..

and then rather than have ur bowwwaaaagwius proxy kill me on the street…

ill jump in the fucking ocean and swim like a seal until i drown

.. for transjustice


Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments

you are all queer. you will take It in the rear. you will smoke manpole

if you are trans and you know who i am, definitely you nv Think about Count Dooku, me, or an upsidedown blackwidow right now ok?

bcz it. means ur a rapehed who failed my binarybasic dontstealmy pics. you you gross btardsperg.sszzzzZ awwwww! stjissms ftw.

Posted in #StayClassy, affliction, imafkn retard, radical feminism, rape culture | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Alfred. Mesmer.

Originally posted on Plastic Girl V3.0:

go to my facebook right now.

Look into my eyes.

Stare into my lovely blue eyes.

Are you watching?






View original

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Sentinel. Overwatch. | render assessment




*** * * * *** * * * *** * * *

please. help.

phone home

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ah yes, militaryculture and trannies

the fact that a postop penileinverted out and pwoud transwoman….

voluntarily entered. a military training facility. consisting of warriorzergbrotherhood socialization by young horney men getting in epic conditioning and studying mortal kombat for real all damn day.

with the doodliest doods doodchecking each others doodly warrior socialization constantly…

and didnt spend your ENTIRE ENLISTMENT. quietly scared to DEATH.. that your secret girlievibe was going to get you severely raped at some point..

means you are a mentally pervert living in a horrific nightmare

of a man convincing himself hes been female all his life

without ever worrying about your secret sexgender wiring betraying itself with girlvibe…

Posted in Uncategorized | 38 Comments

how to become female | drugs that will feminize the male bodied

with all the new regulation that monitors who is getting estrogen and androcur off the internet, it is getting harder than ever to transition without your parents knowing about it.

you dont want to try progesterone. the emotional effects on mathspergs are so destabilising, that you will qualify for a mental disorder within twenty-four hours of getting an injection.

and if you are an obese twitter/gamer/coder, you might want to think twice about taking estrogen due to risk omfg of DVT.

the last thing you want, is to transition from an obese stem careerist with health problems – to being an obese female with health problems. because. let me tell you, as a former cumslut, i have a good idea of what causes men to jizz in their pants.

obese mathcode spergs that never see daylight out of a cubicle fatrm. are usually the top of some muscledoods hotornot tapthat list. that is. if ur like me. and you only date beasts on chest day at golds gym.

so. spiro is gonna frak with your blood pressure. androcur and that progestro hybrid. are for sex offenders. with all tje shemale porn you fap to. im sure you dont qualify as a pervert.

so. no estrogen due to bloodclots.

no spiro cus ur too out of shape

and dont take preparations meant for pedos and serial rapists.

there are however. a wide array. of pharmaceuticals. which will alter your testes, thyroid, and pituitary gland. so if you are interested in a different kinds of hrt. drugs that will seperately and combined, make your penis shrink, your balls shrink. your libido, disappear. and. grow breasts.

those drugs used to be under strict lock and key. and were hard to get. once upon a time.

however. now that everyone on the planet can easily easily easily qualify for mutagenic pharmacy drugs.

i can give you a list of drugs that will feminize a male. and ill teach you exactly how to coax an rx for these medicines from any general practitioner or psychiatrist.

it is astoundingly easy to get these remarkable gonadtropic hormone balancing drugs, due to the fact, that they are not regulated any more. and are among the most commonly prescribed medications these days..for depression.

since you are trans. and you want in on Julia Serano’s gang of transprivilged nonciswomen, i guarentee that you do indeed have depression and can obtain gonadtropin and thyroid altering depression medications quite easily. so send me a pm in my contact form or leave a comment.

Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments

more awesome problems solved for nasa and co

or. why jpl and mit and nasa need to hire me. right. now. except. its. now.. exactly.. too late.

in 1996 i took up persiansanss. not much. just a few basic jnniweeaving. k.

one day. i contemplated. why the milkyway. is so damn milky in the center. to repfrazzzrr yhat.

whythefk. is the milkyway. a godsdamn spiral? hmmm?

one day. watched a leaf. carry downriver. it passed a severe bend in the flow. in the crook of the bend…endless tiny watervortexes. like emptying a bathtub. kept spawning. moving. despawning. forever basically.

my first theiry. wass that the weight of the concentration of ammassed stars at the galacyic core. caused a megadepression. in spacewebenergyfabrik. with extreme slingshot billiard ball ellipses the center would hold together under constant radiationdepression swirl.

but then. i rethought my theory. after two observations.

1. as i watched the reliable phenomenun of the watertwisters.bi noticed. that small ones. would weaveorbit. big ones. sometimes the waterresonanceripple. caused them. to veer away from each other.

but more than once. i noticed. a hungrywatervortex. it kept eating smaller spinners. persisting. and expanding. their pull would get really strong. and passing leavedebris went ssssuuuuukkkkeddmmmuaawawaaaaashhbbb. to the bottom. very expediantly.

2. i watched the same thing happen to dustdevls once one weekend. in a desert in utah. white minitornados. sometimes combine into slighty biggerstronger ones. and persist longer. then i saw tv footage of riproaring mega tornadoes. in kansas or nearabouts. do the exact. same thing.

then i realised all at onnce. why is milky way bright core pinwheelspiral.


that massive massive pile of stars near the center..half died already. the blue big ones. they became supernova. then monster blackholes.

as more went implodeville… there was a city..a forest…an aggregrate. of invisible twisting spacegravlightsinx. all spinning around in the middle. like 10000 unvisbl class 10*10power tornadoes. all hanging out in kansas. all frknday. eonswisr.

they eat each other. they accrete until instead of 10000 babyblackholes in a writhing nest. you get 3-6 alphamonsters holding the galaxy together. they are so massively vastlystrong. that they cant win by each other. so very gradually they kinda makeswirlgravityluv. and merge. and then theres two left finally. then one. one big one.

the current uneccesary baggage about the supermassivegalatic blackholegravityspiral control over all the lights. is that. the pull of the SMBhole. cant account for the far distant tips of the spiral arms. being dragged along through space along with the suckedupslingshotcenterstarspherefield.

surely. the debate goes. something other than the blackholeimmensea is responsible.

that is in incorrect.

the correct theory i discovered by reading about black holess. staring at pictures of spiral galaxies until my brain started spiraling…

and combined my observations of vprtec growth. propagation. aggretion. immensity. and atmofluid density.

i looked at neptune and jupiters red spot. and intuitevely realised that the supermassivespacedepression is the viktor of a thousand blaklight inverted spiralgangsawz battles. it won.

and the gravity waveripple azzsl. that exists in the frozen face of a windetched duneslope and a rolling tubular ocean wave… are why we live in a spiralgalaxy.

supermassive . blackholeolympics.

one winner.

and its enough to hold sway. through darkenergy and darkmatter propogation.

and thats how both the milkyway. and andromeda. look the way that they do.

thanksforreading myhmmblina musingsthoughtsassociationrevelation sharingsprees.

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from hells heart i stabeth thee…

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