Married men, brothers, are betas – submitted to the will of an emotional being (much like a cat or dog), which, thanks to our all-powerful secular pornocracy (repealing all fash benefits in favor of bum piracy), is queen of the home, guns of the state in holsters.
Two funny examples
ZOG has placed certain men in the role of actors, males supposedly alpha, in charge, with mysterious powers of knowing and controlling, awarded millions in zogbux for their prowess, only to be completely cucked by their adultering, backstabbing wives.
Alex Jewns is the one-man army against the german deathcults and the dark forces of the bilderburger group, broadcasting slick radio shows from a bunker under mortal threat from the powers that be. He’s courageously gone out with a bullhorn to shout about our rights, infiltrated bohemian grove against all odds. He sells backup food stock, bunker items, self-defense items – anything you might need in a full-on fema-camp double bacon cheese bilderburger onslaught. He’s stocked to the tooth to stop the thieving tyranny of the rockefeller-controlled US government.
Tamer of rabid pit bulls, friend of human flesh-eaters and alpha male facing grave threats, Taco Milan, emanates the tranquility of Lord Buddha wherever he goes. Sure, there might be cannibalistic wolves surrounding him looking for a quick lunch, but Taco the Tranquil rolls his eyes, channels their energy, and defeats them all with a bomb of latrino sagacity. And just when you thought this hero had done enough, he turns around and literally schools the whole gang of dazed, dumb White people in psychology, battle tactics and the 101 delicious combinations of corn, beef, tomato and cheese.
The catch is, this super-sized taco with tabasco was destined from the beginning to turn into a steaming hot pile of mexcriment. Wetback Milan got frisked, robbed blind, and sued into the ground not by some pack of salivating fang grinders, but by his wife.
Moral of the story
My Brothers, you can study the juice all you want. You can know all the powers that be, who runs the shoah, and what sick things they’re all up to, these aristocrats. But in the end analysis, the one who is really going to shaft you isn’t that stumpy bugger over there, but that flab-chested, slime-holed, snake-gaited wombman under your nose. Wimmin are easily ten times more treacherous and dangerous than your average schlomo. As Lord Buddha and Jesus Christ said, if you can chose not to marry, do it. If you absolutely cannot bear the celibate life, then fine, get your one vagina, and lick it.