Post: #1

What are the things that were seemingly normal a few decades ago that you guys would like to see in present day?

I'm not a nostalgic person. But a man's gotta respect that some things really must have been awesome back in the days.

I mean, look at this for instance (pay attention to what's happening in the top right corner):



It's real - and not a single feminist group was complaining about it back then.

Post: #2

(08-20-2015 04:26 AM)PBX Wrote:  What are the things that were seemingly normal a few decades ago that you guys would like to see in present day?

I'm not a nostalgic person. But a man's gotta respect that some things really must have been awesome back in the days.

I mean, look at this for instance (pay attention to what's happening in the top right corner):



It's real - and not a single feminist group was complaining about it back then.

all four of them are happy as can be - and this was reality back then. You have to use weaponized media to make women believe this isn't the happiest family arrangement possible.

Post: #3

Why does Dad have a patched-up shirt?

Post: #4

(08-20-2015 04:35 AM)Paracelsus Wrote:  Why does Dad have a patched-up shirt?

'cause 'in maaa day', real men wore their clothes until they fall apart.

Post: #5

(08-20-2015 04:55 AM)Phoenix Wrote:  

(08-20-2015 04:35 AM)Paracelsus Wrote:  Why does Dad have a patched-up shirt?

'cause 'in maaa day', real men wore their clothes until they fall apart.

Oh man, I remember an old girlfriend used to hassle me about wearing one of my favourite shirts that was falling apart. It had holes it in, the collar was ripped and the arms had to stay rolled up.
I miss the shirt more than I ever missed her.

Post: #6

(08-20-2015 06:07 AM)Hardy Daytona Wrote:  

(08-20-2015 04:55 AM)Phoenix Wrote:  

(08-20-2015 04:35 AM)Paracelsus Wrote:  Why does Dad have a patched-up shirt?

'cause 'in maaa day', real men wore their clothes until they fall apart.

Oh man, I remember an old girlfriend used to hassle me about wearing one of my favourite shits that was falling apart. It had holes it in, the collar was ripped and the arms had to stay rolled up.
I miss the shirt more than I ever missed her.

It's always the worst when your favorite shit falls apart.

Post: #7

(08-20-2015 06:21 AM)The Beast1 Wrote:  [quote='Hardy Daytona' pid='1094209' dateline='1440068836']

(08-20-2015 04:55 AM)Phoenix Wrote:  

(08-20-2015 04:35 AM)Paracelsus Wrote:  Why does Dad have a patched-up shirt?

'cause 'in maaa day', real men wore their clothes until they fall apart.

Oh man, I remember an old girlfriend used to hassle me about wearing one of my favourite [b]shits that was falling apart. It had holes it in, the collar was ripped and the arms had to stay rolled up.
I miss the shirt more than I ever missed her.

It's always the worst when your favorite shit falls apart.
[/quote]

Aye, you can spend up to fifteen minutes workin' on it, and then the fucking Coriolis force of the whirlpool just explodes the work into a million brown pieces.

Post: #8

(08-20-2015 06:24 AM)Paracelsus Wrote:  

(08-20-2015 06:21 AM)The Beast1 Wrote:  [quote='Hardy Daytona' pid='1094209' dateline='1440068836']

(08-20-2015 04:55 AM)Phoenix Wrote:  

(08-20-2015 04:35 AM)Paracelsus Wrote:  Why does Dad have a patched-up shirt?

'cause 'in maaa day', real men wore their clothes until they fall apart.

Oh man, I remember an old girlfriend used to hassle me about wearing one of my favourite [b]shits that was falling apart. It had holes it in, the collar was ripped and the arms had to stay rolled up.
I miss the shirt more than I ever missed her.

It's always the worst when your favorite shit falls apart.

Aye, you can spend up to fifteen minutes workin' on it, and then the fucking Coriolis force of the whirlpool just explodes the work into a million brown pieces.
[/quote]

Post: #9

You know what I miss? Fleeting thoughts.

You used to have a bizarre thought pop into your head, like, "I wonder what happened to the actress who played Christie Love in the show 'Get Christie Love'," and then mentally shrug your shoulders, and that would be it.

Or you might think, "Man, my dad is mean and doesn't understand me." And then think, "Oh well," and that would be it.

Fleeting thoughts are completely gone, because we have the internet now, and it only takes me an instant to find out what the actress Theresa Graves is doing now, whereas in say, the 80's I would have had to really expend some energy to find out, so I didn't bother. Now there are probably "Get Christie Love" worship groups where white gay guys dress up like her. There are a million Theresa Graves options available to me now.

There is no Internet Nazi to get in my face and say, "No bandwidth for you! Stop wasting your time."

I can instantly find a group of other guys whose dad didn't understand them in a similar way to me, and we can all agree to have a sex change together while cannibalizing someone who looks like my mom which is what she deserves for not having intervened.

Twenty years ago, if you wanted to be a weirdo, you really needed to have initiative. Now it pretty much takes care of itself, you just have to opt in. And it is not just the way it warps your personality a bit to be following your own mind down its own self created rabbit holes whenever you want, it is also the time you waste that you could have used doing something else.

Think of all the freaks we contend with online and in real life. If they had to leave the house and engage in order to make their weirdness a reality, most wouldn't bother, and the true outliers would stay where they belong, in their own little subcultures and on the margins, instead of being encouraged in their unbalanced ideas almost simultaneously as they have them.

They would have a weird thought, examine it for a sec, then say to themselves, "That was weird," dismiss it, and move on with their lives.

Only the true freaks would see their freakishness through, and the rest would just get on with life.

That's what I miss. I am nostalgic for a particular habit of mind.

A fleeting thought.

Post: #10

It sounds so nuts.......but I can't help but feel that this guy's right.

Post: #11

Can't see the picture/video/whatever it is.

G

Post: #12

I miss the trashy '80s teen movies I grew up with. They came out before people had a sense of irony, so they're unapolagetic in their lack of redeeming social value -- not self-consciously lowbrow like the ones we got later on. There's a difference.

And so I present to you..."Party Camp!" It's got the great b-movie actress Jewel Shepard running around half-naked half the time, a classic battle between nerds and jocks, tons of dumb jokes...and best of all, main character with the name of Tad Whitneyworth.




If you're really into this, a slightly superior print can be found here.

Post: #13

The good old days of a few years ago when furries were the most degenerate thing I would see on the internet.

Nowadays, compared to the other degeneracy, furries are quaint, like a rustic New England town

Post: #14

Semi-dupe?

/thread-35340.html

Post: #15

(08-20-2015 04:55 AM)Phoenix Wrote:  

(08-20-2015 04:35 AM)Paracelsus Wrote:  Why does Dad have a patched-up shirt?

'cause 'in maaa day', real men wore their clothes until they fall apart.

'Cause in that day a woman taking care of the home meant something.

Post: #16

I miss the landline being the primary source of communication between men and women.

Back in the days of the old "acoustic phone," as I like to call it, I could work wonders with my voice. I could seduce even the most skeptical woman.

For one thing, unlike with texting, they couldn't just swat your message away. If they picked up, they had to at least engage. I would number close and know I could work my magic once I had them on the phone, preferable at night after 10 p.m.

For another, I found the superior analog acoustics of the landline very conducive to seduction because it made the best of the tone of my voice (something women have said they liked). It's like when you listen to Sinatra on an old record as opposed to through a smart phone. The tone is everything. Sadly, the concept of tone has been forgotten in the age of nasal digital sounds or impersonal robot-like texts.

Here are stories of my top four landline conquests. There are so many I could do a long essay or a short book, but I'll limit it here.

* There was a the 6-foot-plus Russian girl who was nearly a head taller than me. Scads of late night phone covos led to phone sex. That led to one night when I got her in such a sexual frenzy that she abruptly hung up, got in her car at 4 a.m., pounded on my door, and insisted on sex "NOW!"

* When I was around 23 I met an 18-year-old high school senior working in a mall who was an absolute beauty. Unfortunately, she was pretty dismissive of me. Still, I number closed and got her on the phone. Night after night of talking turned her head around, since we had a lot in common (i.e. hair metal music!!). Plus, I offered her an emotional outlet she clearly was not getting from anyone at school. Pretty soon it was her demanding we meet at the movies.

* At work there was an out-of-my-league older woman who ran the information systems department. We were like oil and water in person, with differences in age, religion, how we dressed, etc. I was also around 15 years younger and a LOT poorer than the many guys at work after her. But talking on the phone, we realized we had a lot in common. So much in common, that she ended up marrying me...and saying it was the late night phone calls that sealed the deal. Bummer the marriage didn't work out, but my original point stands.

* When I was 19, a college friend introduced me to her best friend, a Reese Witherspoon-looking beauty with a chest like Selma Hayek and a family with Kennedy-like money. Needless to say, she was not used to dealing with anyone from Italian peasant stock like mine. Bummer. BUT...she loved "the arts." I knew the arts. I found a lame excuse to call her -- and was basically greeted with a "WTF?!" response. Yet slowly I reeled her in. I mentioned reading Hemingway. Seeing symphonies. Reviewing plays for my college paper. Soon enough she was the one calling me, and I was the one staying over in her dorm room.

None of this would have washed with text. Like the vinyl record, the landline was a unique medium that might have been limited, but had its own special benefits. Bring back the landline!
   

Post: #17

Dealing with friends like this.

Post: #18

(08-20-2015 07:03 PM)Days of Broken Arrows Wrote:  Here are stories of my top four landline conquests. There are so many I could do a long essay or a short book, but I'll limit it here.

* There was a the 6-foot-plus Russian girl who was nearly a head taller than me. Scads of late night phone covos led to phone sex. That led to one night when I got her in such a sexual frenzy that she abruptly hung up, got in her car at 4 a.m., pounded on my door, and insisted on sex "NOW!"

Wow, could you datasheet how these phone convos work?

Also all the apps still have a call option. I've found that a call is very effective to help get a girl out. I hate texting, so I come across as dull, but if I call they warm up quite fast. I know goodlookingloser still calls girls too. You can just message 'can I call?', then hit the call button after they say ok.

Post: #19

Post: #20

(08-21-2015 12:17 AM)Phoenix Wrote:  

(08-20-2015 07:03 PM)Days of Broken Arrows Wrote:  Here are stories of my top four landline conquests. There are so many I could do a long essay or a short book, but I'll limit it here.

* There was a the 6-foot-plus Russian girl who was nearly a head taller than me. Scads of late night phone covos led to phone sex. That led to one night when I got her in such a sexual frenzy that she abruptly hung up, got in her car at 4 a.m., pounded on my door, and insisted on sex "NOW!"

Wow, could you datasheet how these phone convos work?

Also all the apps still have a call option. I've found that a call is very effective to help get a girl out. I hate texting, so I come across as dull, but if I call they warm up quite fast. I know goodlookingloser still calls girls too. You can just message 'can I call?', then hit the call button after they say ok.

I don't think a data sheet would be effective imparting how these phone convos went. I think explaining it in musical terms would.

If you've ever done improvisational jamming with someone -- or are a fan of jam bands -- you'll know that during a good jam, musicians play off each other and take each other places they'd normally never go on their own. So a shuffle might inspire a guitarist to pick on the off-beat, which makes the keyboardist think of ska, and then all of a sudden the jam goes off on a great tangent to Jamaica.

This is the way my conversations went. I was really good at seizing on a tiny point inside a larger point a woman was making, and running with it. Then they'd respond and take the convo on a tangent. After an hour, they'd marvel at WTF was happening. It really was like jamming. This was my forte.

I don't know if I can teach this or explain it in a chart. You just have to know how to respond: When to hang back and listen, when to jump in with a quick joke, when to suddenly get deep, and when to grab the bull by the horns and lead things to another place.

A lot of times that place was sex. I found that if you brought up sex per se, women sussed what you were up to and considered you "just another guy." But if you took a long and winding road through another topic and "unexpectedly" arrived at sex, then they would open up.

I wish I could diagram all this, but I would have needed to record them because things never followed a logical sequence. In keeping with the jam band spirit, I'll give an example using the > symbol, which Deadheads employ to connote segues that connect songs:

Work > What did you study in college? > teachers > serious subjects we learned about > which college I went to > her telling me college stories > me countering with brainy classroom anecdotes > her countering with party stories > me mentioning how my partying led to a pregnancy scare > sex talk > possible phone sex > back to serious subjects > now she's horny > do you own a vibrator?...etc.

I had no qualms about staying on the phone for hours, like a goofy teenage girl in the '50s. Gotta do what you gotta do. Playing music lightly in the background could often set a mood.

I found that after phone sex (which for me usually went in both directions), when you meet up with a woman the "door is already open," so to speak. I learned this when I was taking a girl to a pizza place and on the way she said something totally personal, then followed it with "I feel like we can say anything to each other since we've cum together!" It was not hard to take that to the next level.

You have to be both intellectually together (or at least appear intelligent), emotionally open, and a bit of a smart-ass to pull this off. I'm good at countering women with one-liners. Her: "You're being hard-headed" Me: "Leave my private parts out of it!" But I was also good at evoking sympathy and giving it.

I don't much go for this anymore, because post-marriage, I've become a lot less fun and just have less patience in general. When you start throwing in bitter Red Pill truths, I found, women turn off. Live and learn. Plus, no one calls anyone anymore. I refuse to text, so now everything is emails.

But back in my pre-marriage days, I lived for this stuff. Hell, I almost liked it more than actually getting together with the women.

Post: #21

(08-20-2015 02:33 PM)debeguiled Wrote:  You know what I miss? Fleeting thoughts.

You used to have a bizarre thought pop into your head, like, "I wonder what happened to the actress who played Christie Love in the show 'Get Christie Love'," and then mentally shrug your shoulders, and that would be it.

Or you might think, "Man, my dad is mean and doesn't understand me." And then think, "Oh well," and that would be it.

Fleeting thoughts are completely gone, because we have the internet now, and it only takes me an instant to find out what the actress Theresa Graves is doing now, whereas in say, the 80's I would have had to really expend some energy to find out, so I didn't bother. Now there are probably "Get Christie Love" worship groups where white gay guys dress up like her. There are a million Theresa Graves options available to me now.

There is no Internet Nazi to get in my face and say, "No bandwidth for you! Stop wasting your time."

I can instantly find a group of other guys whose dad didn't understand them in a similar way to me, and we can all agree to have a sex change together while cannibalizing someone who looks like my mom which is what she deserves for not having intervened.

Twenty years ago, if you wanted to be a weirdo, you really needed to have initiative. Now it pretty much takes care of itself, you just have to opt in. And it is not just the way it warps your personality a bit to be following your own mind down its own self created rabbit holes whenever you want, it is also the time you waste that you could have used doing something else.

Think of all the freaks we contend with online and in real life. If they had to leave the house and engage in order to make their weirdness a reality, most wouldn't bother, and the true outliers would stay where they belong, in their own little subcultures and on the margins, instead of being encouraged in their unbalanced ideas almost simultaneously as they have them.

They would have a weird thought, examine it for a sec, then say to themselves, "That was weird," dismiss it, and move on with their lives.

Only the true freaks would see their freakishness through, and the rest would just get on with life.

That's what I miss. I am nostalgic for a particular habit of mind.

A fleeting thought.

Post of the fucking century.

Post: #22

(08-20-2015 02:33 PM)debeguiled Wrote:  Think of all the freaks we contend with online and in real life. If they had to leave the house and engage in order to make their weirdness a reality, most wouldn't bother, and the true outliers would stay where they belong, in their own little subcultures and on the margins, instead of being encouraged in their unbalanced ideas almost simultaneously as they have them.

You are dead on.

It's funny, the SJW's and feminists never found us (Roosh & Co.) in Toronto this past weekend partly because they never bothered to look in the trendier part of the city (club in the fashion district). And in truth they really didn't have such a large following as we thought, so there's no way they could have covered so much ground. In Montreal they went to a hipster bar and were immediately recognized.