So here is Part 2 of my introduction:
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This part is 18 “regular DIN A4 pages” long and is about a special part of my life as a young child.
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This was the most solid basis of my MGTOW career.
The pictured events are not for the faint hearted. It is the truth about women, and how they treat boys that are smarter than they are.
And the sick and evil ways with which they try to break a boy’s good personality to turn him into an obedient slave.
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The main time span was between 1974 and 1978, but the story starts at 1967.
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But, to put everything into perspective, I have to start at the beginning of my life.
Born in 1967, I have 2 sisters, one 7 years older and the other one 15 years older than me.
We are all 7 to 8 years apart. My oldest sister was left behind in East Germany when my parents escaped. They couldn’t take her with them. Everyone crossing the Berlin border with a child was double checked and jailed upon discovery. And so, a few years later, my grandmother brought my oldest sister across the Berlin border, almost weeks before the wall was built.
So my grandmother had to stay here in the West. She couldn’t return or she would have gone to jail for leaving the country and for delivering my sister to her parents.
My parents had already settled in some way, but the living space was overcrowded. Since they had not planned for 2 more people. Especially not for a narcissistic and bossy grandmother right within the same apartment with my parents and my oldest sister. So there was always conflict in the air. My grandmother had already brainwashed and influenced my oldest sister to be “her child” and to have a low opinion about her “lazy bum” father, which was absolutely false.
My grandmother hated my father. As she hated all men, including her own, with whom she had divorced years before. Main objective was, that any man that got in between her and her enslaved daughter (my mother) would get attacked and “bitten away”. So my father was under attack around the clock.
Since my oldest sister was the reason “he had to marry the bitch with her bossy grandmother” and that she would always take the side of my bossing grandmother he hated them both.
My father hated them like hell. They would nag at him constantly and he would lose his temper all the time.
This lead into clashes of violence, my father beating up my oldest sister and even throwing her out the window one day.
My father was always the bad guy, because everybody would see and hear his violence. The women were always “in the right” and so “it was all his fault”. The blame shaming never stopped until today.
Nobody saw how much the women had provoked the hell out of him before he exploded.
That was at the start of the 1960s.
At the same time when grandmother and my oldest sister had arrived, my middle sister was born.
So the living conditions got even worse.
My father didn’t want more kids because we were refugees that had to start from scratch and we would need more time to rebuild. But my mother had bullied him into “one more child”, against his will.
Anyway, my middle sister became the princess of my father. Understandably, because he only had enemies (3 women) around him, and he wanted to be a hero for her. He was glad to have an ally, someone that liked him and that wouldn’t spit on him. Or he wanted to keep my middle sister from
becoming the same way as her mother and grandmother were. I will never know…
But one serious thing happened all along. Research has shown, that babies can get traumatized inside the womb from family fighting and loss of sleep.
The adrenaline shocks get transferred to the baby.
The constant fighting inside the family till deep into the night must have left it’s mark on my middle sister. It is the pre-programming for NPD and BPD.
As a baby she would scream endlessly and this would never stop. As a toddler, she way always aggressive and would throw things around, yelling and behaving badly. But she was a “sweet and beautiful girl” so everybody gave her “the pussy pass”. She could pour something on the floor – without any punishment – and my oldest sister was forced by her father to clean it up.
My father treated my middle sister as “his little princess”.
So my “sweet long blonde hair” middle sister had the pussy pass for everything.
And she had the maximum “borderline genes” already in her.
And then it happened: My father now wanted a son.
He was giving it a third try. 7 years later, after the family had gone into a more stable phase.
His son (me) came into the world. He was enthralled to finally have a son… And my princess sister was dethroned. She suddenly had to share her attention with “this baby”…
And at the same time, school had started for her. So her life took a turn for the worse and she projected it all on me.
On top of that, my parents were never good at housework. So they gave her little princess daughter to order to change my diapers.
Making my problem worse, she hated me to hell and beat me up as a baby, when nobody saw her. The black spots were taken as a normal happening… I was pinched, yelled at and treated like a piece of meat on the butcher’s table.
Nobody in the family would want to really take notice or do something about it.
Her cursing about the piece of s~~~ baby: “I wish that that piece of s~~~ was dead…” wasn’t the only thing she shouted so loud that the customers of my mother’s beauty shop could hear it from 2 rooms away.
My oldest sister was around till 1971. She would always go in between when my middle princess sister would become extremely violent. Things like, kicking me around like a soccer football or kicking me in the ass on the edge of the staircase, so I would “fly” or slide down these old slippy wooden stairs.
I can still do that without getting hurt. Good education for life…
I became a master of survival. Including finding a “scream frequency” that would penetrate the door to the room of my oldest sister… She was always my life saver when it got too extreme.
I happened to be “highly gifted” and would analyze second by second what my sister was up to.
Watching the angle of her devilish eyes, predicting every reaction, foreseeing every bad intent… Me against a predator, sent by mother and grandmother “to educate” me. They sometimes grinned when my middle sister was chasing me around to “punish me” for whatever. Sometimes I would get punished for being alive and making a sound. Silence was paramount, not to “wake the lion”. Or remind my predator sister of my existence.
If I made a sound then it p~~~ed her off. Even though I was a quiet child that even hated screaming children… I even knew that my parents were under “professional” stress. But of course, later I found out how homemade, no “c~~~made” that stress actually was.
As a child I had already developed a considerate way of reducing “maintenance” for me by my parents. I was a calm and fast learning “non maintenance” child, even fixing broken household items.
But right before that: As the “diaper change” was always a life threatening situation, I started to use the toilet at age 1 and a half. They couldn’t believe it. But I remember “the moon landing” at age 2 so my memories are intact. And they concur with what customers told me.
In spite of me taking care of myself, my parents would still put me in a child stable or “cage”.
Nobody came and took care when my diaper was full.
And then I punished them: I took it off, because I was a person with the need for cleanliness…
And I would paint all of my stable with s~~~. Until the stink alerted them. My repeated offer was:
“Me use toilet” and so I was free to go.
Exploring the world when my sister was at school and couldn’t hurt me. At age 3, I would start hobbies that caught the attention of my mother’s customers. Building Lego houses that resembled big shopping centers, parking areas that were fully capable of driving in out with my “Matchbox” cars…
Electric light, wired up with scotch tape and the battery in a separated compartment. And a lego-block as a switch. People took notice of that and I became a hero-child in the village.
Showing off all of my “new creations” to as many people as I could. Good, it was compensation for being declared by my sister “a useless dumb and retarded piece of s~~~” behind closed doors.
And my parents would even join in to “the criticism game” my sister played so well.
My middle sister manged to shift her “pussy pass” in a different direction: Manipulating the people of my family against me. And so “everything she said, was “considered as true”. And so I was her “retarded and underdeveloped” brother. And everybody joined in.
Me becoming “the star” among the customers was like making a counter fire. At age 4, people would tell me things like: “Oh, you’re gonna go far. You will make a renowned architect”or “here goes our new inventor”…
“Oh, he will be the next chancellor”, because reading the newspaper got me fit in politics.
And I started to collect maps. And a world atlas lead to me being the “quiz king” for knowing all countries, continents and big cities of the globe. Like the status of Hongkong. Of course I would look up how far my toys had traveled just so I can take them apart. And also the places where my model cars were made… People outside the family were always happy to see me. And they could talk to me like an adult.
For clarification:
In that stage of my life. My mother had her beauty shop in a rich-people area, which later became my business area… These were the customers that actually admired me.
We moved to the stupid land whale area at around 1974 and then I had a whole village of stupid short minded land whales and female school teachers against me…
But life inside the family was “f~~~ed up because of pussy”. And them never understanding anything. Even stupidly grinning when my King Kong sister was hitting me…
No protection. Except for my oldest sister – she was the only sane woman in my family.
As she left In 1971, I was suddenly alone, without any protection from my borderline bitch middle sister.
Like: “Oh my God, help me to survive” or “What will I do now, without my oldest sister…”
And so – out of fear and driven be adrenaline I became a fighter. And I would retaliate. She would kick me in the b~~~~ “full on” and I would smash her with a chair. But I had to learn that first. My first chair-throwing experiments backfired because the weight would make me fall over to the back.
So I had to learn how to attack her with a chair. My father did that “so well” that I – as much as I hated violence – did the same to get the same results. My sister should run. At first she laughed: “Oh my retarded brother is too stupid to even imitate his asshole father”… But after I had practiced “family combat techniques” she yelled “Oh, he is as violent as his asshole father, he will become a retarded jailbird”. Women are just disgusting.
Yes, she had recruited a 5 year old that was capable of throwing chairs and setting fires with gasoline. A 7 year old, that mixed household chemicals and “35 percent hydrogen peroxide” form the beauty shop with intend to find something that explodes.
Yes, spray cans go off in a gasoline fire. And hairspray is a nice torch. But these skills were developed later. My sister was lucky that we didn’t have internet back then, or I would have sent her into oblivion… Making it look like an accident…
But at age 4, I had to fight for my self. And I became more and more self aware of my qualities, because even high-society people would accept me and approve of what I was doing. And they liked me as child. Some of them even became jealous of not having a “son like that” herself, compensated by another super-rich family wanting to adopt me.
I was asked: Would you want to go? There you will be a big banker and inherit millions…
I said: I will not leave my mama alone in this hell…
The reality was: I had became comfortable in this war zone. Like an adrenaline addiction.
I had gone “over my fear and into the fighting age”. I started to look down on my sister.
Because:
I knew that I would “make it to the top”.
Clear to see, that I wasn’t going to be what she wanted me to become.
As a child I developed a sort of internal invulnerability. She couldn’t insult me deeply anymore. She would only cause fear, for she was 8 years older and bigger.
I got into a little fight with her cat every once in a while and was scratched on my upper leg or some other body part. I guess all children do that.
But: She stood there yelling “Come my pussy baby, scratch him his eyeb~~~~ out…” as if to motivate the cat to cause me extreme harm.
And it would seem that her cat would even comply. (Making the cat nervous like that lowered the attack threshold, so the danger was real, I would always deescalate the situation but this time I got scratched “badly and bloody” because my sister was yelling)
Poor cat. I took on “this declaration of war” but knew that the cat itself wasn’t to blame. But from then on, the cat didn’t have “any quiet hours” anymore. The cat was not tortured but ran away from me, chasing it “the smart way”, protecting my self from “getting scratched and losing my eyesight”.
Man, I still remember this red remote controlled car with a 3 m cable, even reaching under the big bed. Yes, cats cause scratches on cars… And it took so many battery’s lives…
This cat was my sister’s cuddly toy. She was petting and stroking it while kicking after me. But my remote car and my water pistol was a secret counter weapon, when nobody saw it.
They only wondered why this cat suddenly got nervous and ran out when I was in the room. As a young toddler, an attacking cat can be dangerous, especially with adult around that make it more nervous and willing to attack. So, I had to win this fight in order to put my almighty King Kong sister in her place.
Happy end: The cat ran off and found a new wealthy home in “rich-people-village”.
First thing to learn: To women, cats are worth more than humans.
And so she had lost another battle, which is a “life-long matter” for a borderline…
I would start make fun of her, just to let off steam. She was p~~~ed off at certain things I did and so I did them on purpose.
In the early 1970s we had a TV commercial on that featured a funny, battery operated toy robot. And the phrase used as a slogan became my way of conditioning my sister.
Let’s change the story to the Duracell rabbit, for my privacy protection, because everybody who knows me also knows this part. But it is a very large battery manufacturer, one of the biggest competitors to Duracell, and I think that the “toy rabbit campaign” was a direct answer to this funny “walking robot” commercial.
I was a heavy battery consumer as I would build my own lamps and modify toy cars. And so this commercial hit my interests. As I was also a fan of this brand of batteries, because they really lasted longer.
So I copied every little motion of the funny little toy robot and exactly the monotone and robotic voice in which this slogan was used. And I could do it “right in the middle of life” and immediately return to normal.
I watched my sister getting p~~~ed off about my “electrical skills” and she hated my stuff. And she hated my batteries. I knew that. And she started to hate this commercial. So much that she tried to convince my parents to send me out of the room, every time this commercial came on.
But this backfired: While it played, I imitated it all alongside and wouldn’t stop until I was allowed to rejoin.
So not a single day passed when I saw my sister and made these robotic moves with that robotic voice. And it always sounded the same, and I could repeat it like a sequencer or drum computer.
I found out that this was a way to expose her violent ways to the outside world. In the years before, she would wait for everybody to leave the room and then hit me for whatever reason she had in her hamster wheel.
But seeing me doing “this” got her off so bad, that she hit me in front of others.
So then it became obvious that “this sister is endangering the son” that daddy always wanted.
Others could see, that she hits me for no real reason. And always she hit me worse than normal “games between siblings”. Dark black spots were always there.
Instead of helping me, “mother bitch” used tons of medical ointment on my black spots.
One time at age 3, I was kicked in the butt so bad that the doctor had to sew it.
Things like this happened until I started throwing furniture…
And use my psychological and hypnotic “battery commercial” weapons…
Things calmed down a little, because I controlled her emotions and displayed them for others to see.
So she would sometimes get a big preaching not to beat her brother so bad…
So, dear readers, forgive me if I sometimes refer to BPD and NPD chicks as “machines”.
They run after you with King Kong might and they can’t be stopped unless you use very tricky programming or massive counter-force on them.
For a toddler half the size of his predator sister it is like running away from “Terminator”.
Yes, women are erotic – for masochists and adrenaline addicts.
One day after a vicious fight, I was so down that I climbed up on the window sill, not actually wanting to jump down, but saying “Next year, I will jump”. She replied “It’s better if you jump now so we don’t have to feed you and waste money on you for another year” I came down from the window sill and had become “one step smarter”. I got to know her real materialistic motives. Making it easier to see that all other reasons for criticizing me were just lies. She didn’t want to share resources. That’s also why she always freaked out when customers gave me a present. She was only given money so she would leave and run to the grocery store. That way customers had “their peace”. They wanted me around and not her unnerving princess allures.
Lesson 1: Women are only problem factors and will cause nothing but drama
Lesson 2: Women are extremely materialistic and jealous over status symbols
Lesson 3: They are aggressive as hell, and try to ruin your capabilities
So: At age 7, I was at the point of having to go to school.
– There are many smaller “sub-stories” to this, that I will be posting “some other time” –
Having to go to school was a very fine and new experience for me. Even the rich people’s kids accepted me in some way for my adult appearance. I grew very fast and was 1 to 2 heads taller than the rest.
Even now, 1,90 meters is large, compared to my age group. That’s why I was probably saved from being picked on. Maybe it was the biological reaction of my body to the constant threat of a bigger predator.
The faster I would outgrow my sister, the sooner I would reach a peaceful state. I had become tall very soon and then the rest of me continued to grow…
Back then, my parents had to buy new clothes all the time. “Oh if he keeps on growing he’s gonna be 2,50 meters as an adult”. “Oh, what an expensive boy”, meaning I was causing them hardship. Yes, having less money for junk and fur coats…
But I immediately converted this to “counter-threat material” by saying to my sister: “Wait, when I’m 2,5 meters tall, I will throw you out the window.” And she didn’t laugh anymore.
The first half year in school was wonderful. We had “the only nice female teacher I had ever come across” and there was not a single problem in school. For I knew, school would get me out of poverty.
But in mid 1974, my parents moved to another village where they had built the house.
For me it was the beginning of tragedy. I had to switch schools. From an open minded big city school to a village “behind the hill” school.
Hard to explain. But they don’t want any non-dialect-speaking “foreigners” here. The school was dominated by “the local incest circle” and every intruder was rejected like hell and was exposed to maximum bossing and harassment.
More so, if “the intruder” happened to be smarter and taller than they were.
Hell from the first day on. My body size protected me somewhat and so they always came in groups.
But here is how it happened:
During the construction phase of our house, the interest rate for the mortgage suddenly doubled. It was the mid 70s interest rate shock, with which the socialists tried to regulate the economy but only succeeded in “starting Germany’s decline”.
But suddenly, our house had become a financial burden. My parents were thinking about selling it and so they were looking for buyers. Among the potential buyers was the teacher that later became my 1st grade class teacher here in the local school.
After a while, my parents had figured out a way to keep the house and so the offer was withdrawn.
The woman got mad at our family because she were not able to pick up this nice big house “for cheap”.
But my parents were too stupid to figure out the this teacher would take revenge on their son. But this happened. Nobody told me until the late 90’s…
I didn’t know that this teacher-pussy was against me from the start. For private reasons and not because of any fault I had on my side.
In 1st grade, we had school books that had to be “written into” without the need for external paper blocks or folders. So she could see that my math book was already filled out months ahead… Yes, the quality of education was better where I came from and I was completely bummed out be getting criticized for that, openly and in front of the class:
“Who do you think you are? You think that you are something better”
“You are s~~~. You only do what I tell you to do, is that clear?” …
“I want to slap this book in your face”…(Swinging her hand with the book in a big half-circle – as if she would hit me)
Really, just as violent, bossy, loud and incalculable as my sister.
I was put down in front of the class just because the school I came from had advanced further and was “weeks to months ahead” in the subject matter.
Same was with writing. In the big city school they were training us to do writing in block letters.
I was doing this with print quality. I can still do “standard technical writing” free-handed, without a drawing template.
But in the village school they taught the kids the old-school type of writing. An adult using this “font” nowadays would get laughed at.
Instead of seeing how good I was, she yelled at me, that I have to comply and to do what the others do.
I told her: “I’m innocent, it’s just the same writing that they used in newspapers and I started to read at age 5”
She loudly bursted out in front of the class: “We all know that your are a smart ass. Either comply or the whole class will kick your ass!”
Literally, word by word. They should abolish women teachers. Today, I would sue the state of Hessen for the unlawful behavior of this teacher.
She gave me some kind of deadline “to relearn within a few days” or I would face consequences…
So, these days passed and I did my best to please the tyrant. Of course, no help from home. My sister was just waiting for ammunition. And my parents gave a s~~~.
She was still not pleased although I was already better than the average student in her class. But it seemed to me that she was just wanting to find something to use against me.
So it happened that this teacher incited the entire class “to give it to me” during the school break.
“Please class, teach him a lesson in the next break”
Like a hunt, The bell rang and I ran out. But they caught on and circled me. Good, I knew that I had a superior personality and intelligence and so they had no right to injure me. I was up against 15 to 30 little bastards…
I would do what I had learned fighting my sister. Jump on the one with the most stupid face and telling others “that he’s gonna die” because he is not worth s~~~ anyways…”
The have never seen such a reaction before. I memorized these faces that were involved in this. And after they had split up, days later I would suddenly approach them as single persons and say “What’s up coward, wanna beat me now?”
“The next time you join in this club, I will get you later, one by one”…
And after school I would map the whole village like a topographic map with street names and houses… And the places where my enemies were living in. I had followed them.
And they were told: I know where you live, next time you feel strong in a group… Think about it. I will burn down your parents’ house with gasoline… And there is nothing you can do about it, in your sleep… Hahahahahah…
That went on for weeks and months until they didn’t circle me anymore in the schoolyard.
When getting circled I had no hesitation to take my schoolbag and use it as a weapon. Some of these little bastards must have had the annoyance of explaining to their parents what had happened and why they had a bruise on their head.
Then they were told: Leave this guy alone, he is dangerous. Of course they wouldn’t tell their parents what they did to me first. And that it was actually a miracle that I stopped my personal decay that this woman teacher had forced on me. She wanted me “down below” and she got a fighting MGTOW instead. She didn’t know that his boy had conquered a dominant and violent borderline sister before and that her unjust, intriguing and hypocrite ways were just a “repeat operation” for me.
Even years later, the yelling and bitching of this teacher – toward anything that she didn’t like – was heard hundreds of meters away. Long years after my stay in this school she was still yelling and bitching. Nobody kicked her out. Society is sick. She would have deserved a bullet. I heard about other kids having the same problems with her…
She was destroying the lives of children. There is definitely something wrong with Germany’s school system. Someone allowed her to practice her way of teaching for so long. But the story gets worse…
Her husband had committed suicide at the end of the 1970’s. To me it was clear:
Lesson 4: Women and marriage can bring death.
Because: From the “house sale intend” meetings my parents had with him years before, I remembered her husband as a nice and considerate person…
Poor guy.
The other female teachers were not as abusive but I had my place “above” any hierarchy that the students had among themselves. Of course, I was an outcast. But whenever someone was nice and “normal” to me I was like a polite adult. Nobody outside could tell that I was an outcast at school.
Teachers had no real control over me anymore. The same treatment I had previously given to my sister was applied to them. Not with the battery commercial… that would have been stupid…
But with something a lot better:
I was beginning to get interested in building bombs. Of course at age 8, I was far from actually having the knowledge and the technical capabilities of really building one. But the circuit diagrams passed their visual test. They could see clearly that I was able to draw functioning circuit of a mechanical time bomb.
One more thing helped: One night I was watching “Colombo” or the “Rockford Files” and there was a construction drawing of a time bomb that terrified everyone in that movie…
There you go. My technical drawings suddenly had the same “typical terrorist prototype look” on them.
Because this was my “respect sustaining mechanism”.
Meaning: “Incite the class against me again and I will blow up the entire school”
Making such artful drawings and then asking teachers with an innocent look in my face: “What you do think? How can I optimize the fire spreading mechanism of my new creation?” “Is it better to use gasoline or lighter fluid?”
And they would find packages with “crayon and pencil sharpener dust” in them that looked like gun powder.
I said: “Well, it’s about to go off… goodbye”…
I could feel shivers running down their spines… And it gave me a soothing feeling.
They took that seriously. And I gave them back the adrenaline they gave my by sending the class to hit me 30 against one. Women always need a bomb to cure them.
They wanted to get rid of me, but they couldn’t: My grades were still “too good”. All B’s and a few C’s… The “prime state school agency” said: Sorry, we can’t help you, “this student” is too good in all subjects…
And in 1976, the teachers were “out of nerves”, I triggered their borderline fears. The gave the dean the ultimatum, to remove “this student” or they would quit their jobs…
And then they had to figure out an elegant way to get rid of me…
(I know all of this because I was in contact with the “youth office” 10 years later and got to see the files…)
It was known fact that “unwanted” students in this school were brought down so bad that they had an easy job to “shift them off into the special school for retards” (“Sonderschule” in German)…
They couldn’t do that with me. The “prime state school office” (Schulamt) commanded my parents to take me to some places where they carried out certain ability and intelligence tests on me… And, of course, I passed them… No “retard school” for me…
All because of women. Fact. They have the problem. Not me. That school has a reputation for “running down” non-compliant kids. To be non-compliant, it was enough to come from “the outside”. To speak “high German”, meaning “official German” turned the kid into an outsider.
Even engineers and academics had to get their kids away from this school not to have then end up in “retarded school”.
I stayed on that subject and fortified the bad reputation from this school for 2 decades to come. In my 4000 customers I ran across many “victims” of this school.
But they eventually succeeded in getting rid of me “the hard way” in 1976.
They bonded with the “corrupt” German youth office. And declared me a “difficult child” to have me removed from my family and to be deported to a children’s home “for correction”…
Suddenly, my parents “were raided” like in a totalitarian state… They came like the GESTAPO… and gave them 2 options:
1. Voluntarily put me in a “living home” without “bad restrictions” and my parents would keep control over me.
2. They would claim state custody over me and “put me away” into a restrictive “problem children’s home”, without giving my parents any control till the age of 16.
My parents were even told that they have no “legal right” to put me away but that the school will “enforce their corrupt ways” if we don’t comply.
Blackmail at it’s best.
It was like a poker game and they were speculating on my parents not being able to afford a lawyer.
And my parents complied on a voluntary basis. So they could keep control over me.
So they had no legal right but they threatened and bullied my parents to give me away.
Again: WOMEN officers doing this.
Exact names, places and dates upon request…
So, on September 11th in 1976, there was my own “9-11”.
First they told me what a nice and modern place this children’s home would be. They picked me up in a white Mercedes, like in a ceremony…
When I arrived, I saw…
I would have to live there for the time being… OMG.
No privacy, only women “child care workers” around and a highly violent male boss.
Hard to describe and even harder to get it out of the denial mechanism…
The place was a modern 70’s style ugly architecture concrete block building.
Now I know why I got sick with the flu every 2 months. Sometimes with very high fever…
All of the toxic building materials of that era were found in this place and that’s why they tore it down in 2002. Details in the future…
Toxic PCB’s in the concrete and sealing gaps, stinking PA contaminated PVC on the floor, PCP and Lindane in the wood panels and Formaldehyde in the furniture…
That was probably the reason why I never felt good in there. Though it didn’t look like a prison, it sure was ruled and regulated as hell.
4 to 5 people in one ugly room without privacy. Like a military base.
For me there was only one goal: Get out of here, and comply as much as you can with the c~~~s.
The c~~~s were all compulsive, reactionary, stubborn, heartless and hypocritical women.
They would not think twice about hitting a child, their hands were “always loose”.
And they enjoyed their power. But this time I couldn’t hit back or I would risk getting transferred to a more restrictive, prison-like place.
I let them have their way but I never internalized anything that these stupid women said or did to me. To me, they were only trash. One time I even said that and forgot that wall have ears… Oh, my goodness… Women are more violent than Hitler and Stalin together.
What I have to say in not for the faint hearted. And it was all unnecessary and repulsive crap done by oppressive women.
(Get me a cup of coffee first…)
I was in a group with 14 other children between ages 6 to about 13. They came from all over Germany and they were all from broken families. So I wasn’t “the worst off” from them all.
As I had actually a complete family with a relatively big house and the only reason for being deported was the dislike of hypocrite school teachers.
It was a shock for me at first, having to live in this atmosphere from now on. All of my comfort zone in the “middle of chaos” was gone. At home, I felt like “the king of chaos”. I could do things that I wanted to do because nobody would care.
I now have to make an excursion back to the times before the children’s home got me.
My borderline sister hated the hell out of me and also spread the news about me that I was a retarded child. And she would be glad if everybody would pick on me and do whatever they wanted with me.
This, and the workings of the hypocrite female teachers created the war zone in which I evolved as a boy. I was causing fear and I didn’t give in.
But as the youth office came around, my borderline sister has told them horror stories about me that made them decide even quicker to have me taken away. So she would not have to share anything with me anymore. As I was gone, she was suddenly the center of attention again.
But my observations and experiences with women were unfortunately to get worse.
In this children’s home you could get hit in the face barehanded with bloody noses for any reason.
They would even laugh and call you a “wimp” when your nose would bleed after a hit in the face.
And it was for the simplest reasons, like forgetting to polish your shoes.
Same would happen for a messy locker or unsorted clothes in the closet. Any tiny little reason was reason to get hit physically by these female monsters.
As a child I was a good eater with good table manners. That wasn’t enough for these wenches…
There were a few things I could not eat or I would throw up. Liver and some types of vegetables.
Everything else was no problem. And I was not picky at all. But 2 of these witches sat down next to me to force me to eat what they wanted me to eat. The whole group shook there heads as they were raping me to eat what makes me throw up. Even till today, I can’t eat these things… It wasn’t bad will. But they wanted to break my will at any price. So one day they tried it so hard that I let them stuff in in my mouth and ate it. After some fork-fillings later it all came back. All in front of 13 other kids that felt sorry for me. As the contents of my stomach landed on the table, the rest of the group stopped eating because they were disgusted and ha lost their appetite. They lost this battle. Because they were only increasing the hate all of us 14 boys had towards them. And these “child care workers” were young pretty wenches, and not old bitches. I still thank my colleagues for this act of solidarity.
Lesson 5: Young and pretty wenches can be just as sick and abusive as old bitches.
Blame shaming in front of 13 other kids was “the name of the game”. Most fellow kids would start to laugh internally because I had them already programmed about how sick these c~~~s were and that “my colleagues” should pay attention to whom they ever get married.
There was another thing about me that these women hated:
As I was one of the “lucky kids” in this place, I was always getting parcels with chocolates, sweets, candies and snacks in them from home. And I always shared them with the other kids. Sometimes there would not be anything leftover for me.
I agreed with my mother to secretly hide money in one of these items so I could share and still buy what I needed in local shops. I mostly needed milk and dairy products for the calcium they have in them. And she sent me vitamin capsules.
(My bones survived everything so far, even 3 bad high velocity car accidents)
It was my comradeship that everybody knew. And it fortified my following and solidarity as a healthy side effect. Whenever these wenches would start to pick on me, the group would get bored because they knew that it is not me, that has a “character flaw” – but that the wenches were the devils.
My “colleagues from the group” would take me to the side and say “Don’t worry, you get home in 3 months, and I wish I could come with you”
Maybe they didn’t want me to share my candies, so no one would like me.
Lesson 6: Women are selfish and manipulative. They only something if it brings them an advantage.
The “MGTOW at age 9” was created.
The psycho bulls~~~ these women were doing to these kids (us) is nowadays prohibited. For the tiniest offense, we had to do things like: Standing at the open window and shouting “I’m stupid” multiple times. I wasn’t stupid. At lest not stupid enough to marry or knock up one of these useless pieces of s~~~ ever in my life.
Or we had to stand barefoot on a cold stone floor for 15 minutes. Them telling us that we get a rebate: Years ago, this punishment was carried on “for entire nights” in German children homes. (Details later.)
But I had become a music fan. This was my only good voice in my life and I swore to learn English perfectly later in school, which obviously happened.
Music was my life. By 1977, I was able to “sum up” hundreds of artists and thousands of songs that I knew and loved. And even songs that took me years to research the title and another 2 decades to buy them in “some Australian internet shop”…
They knew that they could punish me by taking away my cassette recorder. Sometime for days and sometimes for weeks. I swore that I will get out of this place, no woman in this world would ever touch my music stuff again.
I pictured myself, owning thousands of records and room filling stereo systems without having to ask someone for permission.
They knew how they could “get me”. Women hate the f~~~ out of it when they try to break you and all you do is happily sing along to Beatles or Deep Purple.
They hate you being happy. And it dethrones them in their sick need for power.
They hate you – and then try to put a stop to you singing and pronouncing song expressions that show some kind of rebelling. So they take away your tape recorder.
As a 10 year old, I would blast “Maggie’s Farm” by Bob Dylan… without knowing the lyrics. A few years later I knew why this was one of my protest songs…
But “Help” by the Beatles was also one of these “anti-bitch agents”. In 1977, German TV had broadcast the movie “Yellow Submarine” by the Beatles and I could tell by the reactions that our women “prison guards” were in fact very stupid and uneducated hens.
Yes, THEY were the resemblances of “the Blue Meanies” destroying “Pepperland” and causing loss of joy and laughter everywhere. And the Beatles blew them away. Like I did, to blow these c~~~s out of my head.
And there was this constant blame-shaming that “All you do is consuming music, and that you will never make it to anything in your life and that music makes you stupid…”
“And you will never make it far if you spend all of your money on music”
“You will never get married with so many record in your place…”
(And so I “bought up” whole record shops…)
These preaches fill a book by itself. But as I started to learn English I was surprised how smart music makes you, especially if you don’t have a mother to teach you the right way to live.
In the 1970’s, music was anything but stupid. It was full of life stories, social criticism, politics and environmental awareness.
So this criticism backfired again: Not music makes you stupid… Women want to keep you stupid. And they again started to hate me for being able to understand these songs.
“Oh, this is all bad influence for this boy…” Yes I guess so. Songs telling the hurt that women do to men are in fact unwanted interference.
Songs like that fill a complete radio format. I would call it MGTOW Radio.
Lesson 7: Women hate music, because they have no love and no soul
Lesson 8: Women want to keep you stupid
All in all, women with all of their stupid hypocrisy deepened my love for music and culture, science, politics, geography, languages, electronics and chemistry.
School was another thing to look at. I spent 2 years in the children’s home and had to go to the elementary school there. The 3rd and 4th class were another horror trip. Not because I was a lazy student, no we had a very choleric, reactionary, cynical and strict old bitch as our teacher.
She would spread so much fear, it happened that children of our Turkish guest workers would not dare to ask to go to the toilet and p~~~ in their pants. It happened like 4 times in these 2 years that there was a “stream of urine” running through to classroom. I have never seen that before, and I remember it like it was yesterday.
But this woman teacher was special. Whenever she got mad at something you did, she would grab both of your ears and shake your head like that with full force.
Even forgetting your homework was enough. It would hurt for hours and even days. And she would slap you on the cheek while hitting the ear. Sometimes it took hours for the beeping to go away and the hearing to return.
Children sometimes lost their hearing to attacks like these, so the were banned for a reason. Nobody ever talks about that frustrated and abusive women teachers assault our children…
Whenever she assaulted other students, I was able to watch the devilish and sarcastic look in her eyes.
Even back then, I said to myself: “Why do men get married to a monster like that. Men are tasteless.”
If a woman would pull this on me nowadays, I would “make her feel” the response, depending on if there are witnesses or not.
Lesson 9: Women are just outright repulsive. They spread fear to force their agenda.
No matter what age group. And they “all suck” and break the law constantly if they are left unsupervised in positions of power.
I would ban them from the workforce altogether. Replace them by robots to minimize the damage they cause.
I will go into detail in another posting.
Again, this lady did that to all of the kids. And humiliation and “audio volume” was her standard pressure instrument.
It is shocking that even in 1977, people like that were put – and kept – in a position like that to ruin our children mentally and physically.
This monster had all the might and nobody would put her in her place. I would, if she was still alive and within range.
The 350 km distance would not keep me from paying her an “expensive educational visit”…
I was such a good student and played the part of “the good boy” so well, that they sent me home after only 2 years. Playing “good boy” was later in life part of my business capital. Because I was able to withstand the emotional stress these c~~~s put on service-providers and craftsmen.
But I never had the faintest wish to have one of these “lowdown and dirty” personalities as a partner in my life.
The simple thought of sleeping “next to her” and “breathing the same air” makes me get a muscle tension and choking feeling in my chest.
In September of 1978, the storm was over. On my release day, the older (and non choleric) man of the 2 executives said word by word: “If we would have more children like him (me), we would have no reason to exist…”
So, my record was “clear all along”. It was just the hypocrisy and lunacy of these women wanting to pick on me and others for fun. We were their playthings, just to torture us with their perverse and sick minds.
If any of these women ever got married, it will surely have been one of those 97 percent of dysfunctional relationships. My heart goes out to these poor husbands…
After I got home, it was a feeling no one can describe.
And I found “Casey Kasem” on AFN Frankfurt, 873 kHz – Nr. 1 song “Exile” – “Kiss you all over”
… And the neighbor bitch complained the moment she heard me turn on my 0.05 Watt radio…
(The one that still yells her husband around in 2016)
Lesson 10: Never get married, Never, or you hit the grave early.
But my personal “bitch count” had dropped to 2… only to rise again…
… But I leave this to Part 3 and 4.
Many more details will come to my mind one by one and I will post them here as “single story blocks”.
I can recall it all, but not in such a short time span to put it all into one “complete text”.
As it happened “only” 40 years ago, but my elephant’s memory is still there.
And: Some witnesses are still around…
But traumatization in this magnitude – caused by “abusive everyday women” – will never go away.
And by the end of 1978, I still would have liked to see the first woman with real integrity.
Are there women that would not abuse power? If, then they are almost non existent.
In July of 2018, this honey pot forum was sold out to an unidentified NPC sock puppet and troll organization. Most independent thinkers and writers migrated to other MGTOW forums as a result of the never-ending infighting and deliberate trouble starting caused by members who were given "carte blanche" by the admin to do whatever they want. Before my departure, I only left a few thousand cat pics here to comfort and ridicule the feminist owners who now run this place. Their background agenda is to make MGTOW look like a club of losers the public eye. And during the course of 2019, they actually managed to destroy almost all other MGTOW venues as well. Here is the truth about "theindependentman.org" aka "TIM" which was created as an extended workbench to further divide the community. When you register, they install a spyware Zombie cookie on your browser that does all kinds of things the user does not know of: http://www.filedropper.com/essay-on-the-removal-of-malware-cookies-used-by-tim
