Here’s where I first read about this.
Guess for a lot of people here in America, the 9-11 “milk” has long soured and been simply poured down the drain. Maybe watching the video from 9/11/01 of people jumping out of the windows at the Twin Towers, say, every Labor Day would be sufficient reminder just how horrible Islam a.k.a. The Religion of Peace (TM) is, considering that particular death-fest was one of its proudest most celebrated moments of late. (I guess it made up for the defeat on the “original” 9/11 back in 1683.)
Here’s a Brit (Paul Weston) who not only sees the long dark Islamic night coming to his island nation, he has experienced the power of the Mohammedans’ quiet war-from-within for himself. You’ve got to give Weston credit: he’s not just passionate about saving once-Great Britain from the plague-of-Islam, he’s giving it the old Western-Civ-Try; he’s attempting to do it through the ballot-box. God speed, sir.
My husband James and I just got back from a lovely birthday lunch – he turned fifty-five today. Of course he’d known it would be great; we were, after all, at a restaurant of his choosing. Halfway through that meal I stumbled upon what I think could be a mind-blowing “litmus test” for men out there still willing to date women.
I could be wrong but I’m really hoping there are four, maybe five such men left in America (maybe a couple more out in the far reaches of the Empire), you who still date or would like to, if only……so as Bill Nye the Science Guy used to say, Please; consider the following. (I’d love to hear what you four think.)
So, there we were, not only senior-citizens (Gag!) but “a couple,” in a place designed from the parking lot forward for guys or groups of them. Infused with testosterone it was. It all begins with the business’ double entendre name (Twin Peaks p.s. I have no personal interest in this chain). It then carries through with a rustic cabiny-décor, juxtaposed with dozens of flat screens broadcasting sports, a ¼-mile racetrack of a bar…and oh, off to the side a wall of funny t-shirts (favorite one above) that could easily bring down some kind of Hate-Crime-against-Women I’m sure! Other than the female hostess and all-female wait staff, I was only one of three women customers when we first sat down at about high-noon. During our meal a couple more Olders came in with husbands presumably, a couple more Youngers with boyfriends, equally presumably.
Being in a restaurant overflowing with the proverbial buxom waitresses? I confess it took me a few minutes to get acclimated. Maybe it was all that fresh mountain air and the alpine altitude. Certainly it was different in a good way from what I’d felt in the past – merely upon contemplating such an establishment from afar. Then it’d been annoyance. With a vigorous pooh-poohing I could always dismiss the whole idea of those kinds of so-called restaurants. They were mere excuses for men to go and ogle pretty girls without the “stigma” of a strip club or the out-of-the-way drive. And a man’s got to eat lunch doesn’t he?
Which brings me to the first three things I realized today: 1) the food was much better than I imagined it’d be; it was terrific actually (fried pickles & chicken-fried chicken done to perfection, “Knotty Brunette” beer icy/slushy, pulled pork mini-sliders moist & flavorful); 2) our server was only one year older than our daughter; and 3) waitresses in uniforms “like that” should AVOID tan-lines.
“She’s the best looking one here,” my husband said most of the way through the meal. I assumed he meant our waitress, but realized he was looking towards the bar. “She’s OK,” I said, scrutinizing the long-haired brunette – I guess subconsciously, I guess for a flaw – when, Bingo! Found one, so I added quickly, “She could use more eye make-up, though.” God. I couldn’t believe I was advocating a 20-something go further out on the Cosmetics’ Ledge I’d been trying (in vain) to talk our daughter back down from for several years now.
I can see now that comment was My Bad, My Petty Ugly (typical female!!!) Bad. Afterwards I looked more closely at our waitress as she went here and there to her other tables. She was, in fact, one of the cuter ones. Natural (unlike some that were a bit unusually well-endowed); not wildly tatted; casually smiling (unlike one who’d looked very sour as she brought our food on behalf of our waitress). And then it dawned on me. This restaurant was The Perfect First-Date Place for men. It’s very raison d’etre is to be Male-Friendly. Add to that it’s inexpensive; the food is pretty simple (mostly all-American favorites) and very deelish; plus, plus, plus, they offer Glenlivet (and a nice selection of beer, too).
So choose one of these guy-spots you few, you happy, hardy few gents-still-dating and I’m certain you’ll get a deeper “peak” into your date’s brain in one short night than a therapist could in a year. Her skull may start thinning, hence exposing its inner workings/her true personality from the moment you pull into the parking lot. Just what does this female think about the business’ blatant nod to Male Sexuality? Does she “get it?” Does she understand: 1) men always like to Look-at-Women; 2) they always have; 3) it’s not SAFE for men to do so in most other places given today’s Femi-twisted world; and 4) if she’s offended at #3, does she understand that makes her a part of the problem of #3? And now, unto the breach…
Once inside, does she seem comfortably conscious of her own exposed flesh or uncomfortable with the “competition?” Is she happily or lightheartedly observing (even comparing herself to) the waitresses or sullenly sizing them up and down (and muttering!)? Is she eager to be seated or more eager in suggesting an alternative dining establishment, say, something quote nicer or quieter (read: more expensive or where all eyes might be more apt to be on her)? Have you started to your table yet?
You might consider going ahead of her. This not only saves you from running into her if you get distracted and she stops suddenly, it shows you’re no ladies-first Neo-Con slash Traditionalist. Besides if you do reconnoiter the room in transit (with full knowledge she can see you) and she then fires icy stares across the table as soon as you sit down, what more could you possibly need to know?
I wish you the best of luck administering this unique litmus-test. In the event you’ve already quit dating, might I suggest instead you give a Twin Peaks restaurant your undivided attention? Bon appetit.
But then again, I don’t have to. Not familiar with “Men Going Their Own Way?” Tons of great articles, etc. HERE.
Victim-Politics…which is the monster created by, and brought to you by the divide-and-conquer pros @ CulturalMarxism. (Yes, trolls, I used a broadly inclusive political label there. Look it up. It doesn’t need defining. Again.)
Concerning Andrea Brazier, the Lunenburg, Mass. male-child abusing mother: (http://tinyurl.com/m6verqm), until a couple of weeks ago my pit-of-the-stomach-sick shock would have been strictly the WTF kind. Now after reading this (MUST READ & paradigm-changing) series of articles by Robert St. Estephe (http://tinyurl.com/k6x6wz2) it’s “just one more example” of females victimizing children (their own and others’). It’s bad enough she mind-raped her own son, but she’s also done the same to a whole lot of other kids in his school (particularly the football players) and entire town.
That this (almost certainly guilty-) woman could go on camera (http://tinyurl.com/kgroewf) (scroll to bottom of article) and demand the school do more, even threaten to be seeking an attorney is the height of Female Privilege; her husband (perhaps concealing the truth about the crime himself, according to the latter linked article) basically indicts a “few bad apples” on the local football teams in the “hate crime” as well.
This appeared first as a COMMENT on the highly recommended YouTube channel, “Chapin’s Inferno.”
Before painting I tried something different on the paper’s surface. First I “sealed” it with Liquitex “Flexible Modeling Paste” which left a slightly uneven sandpapery texture. When that was dry the whole surface was coated with a slightly dilute mix of “Ultra Matte Medium.” It made for a less perfect surface, of course, giving the paper a hint of the mysterious, a touch of the unpredictable. Dare I say perhaps also a hint-of-Danger?
That’s what I get for posting while “someone” nearby is playing a Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack. 🙂