When I flippantly posted He Who Should Be Cuckolded recently, I thought I was done with it.  But then these certain entities just kept bugging me, getting in my way and/or causing me a bit of personal disharmony of sorts … and now I’m at it again.  What can I say?  You just can’t keep a good woman down.

But just how do you cuckold a consortium, a system, a cartel, a passel?  Fuck if I know.  When did I ever claim to be a non-linear dynamics theorist?  I’m just your every day, garden variety FemDom Phone Goddess.   I deal in kinky phone fantasies and impossible dreams.  That being noted, I’m certainly not going to let a little thing like inexecutability stop me.   In fact, in MY WORLD — where fourth walls are breakable and all boys are doable —  absolutely nothing is out of bounds or unattainable.   So, yeah, I’m going to cuckold these heartless –heartless to the core — scoundrels.

I’m going to cuckold these "theys" because they haven’t earned my fidelity.  Because, in fact, they’ve disrespected me (and most likely you … so be careful of who you let fuck you) and are generally morally corrupt and ethically underhanded.  Shame.  Shame.  Shame on them!

Let me state this clearly:  All spammers should be cuckolded.  No exceptions, no excuses.  Too lazy and too stupid to get a real job or start a legit business, they sit in front of their PCs pushing automated buttons.  I guess this is their idea of industrious ingenuity,  this is their definition of a meaningful vocation.  The spam they continually spit into cyberspace isn’t even directed.  I don’t have a Bank of America Account, asshole.  So why would I want to update my info?   I don’t have a penis, so why would I want to enlarge it?  Their pathetic attempts to get my attention are analogous to getting a stiffy and humping my thigh, because they haven’t a clue as to how to please a woman.  Cuckold the motherfuckers?  You bet! 

And Comcast, how about if I bundle your corporate, punk ass?   Upsell, upsell, upsell.  Your marketing tactics (snail mail, email, door-to-door, telemarketing — and whatever else the sterile boys in plastics suits come up with) are not aggressive genius; they are belligerent and abusive to the buying public.  And sneaking a movie channel in with a Sports Tier package?  Criminal.  You have no shame and should not only be cuckolded but forced into permanent chastity.  It’s time for you to take the ass-fucking, instead of bending over your customers.

In case you didn’t know, Wal-Mart is EVIL.  Trey Parker and Matt Stone know it.  Kenneth J. Harvey blogs about it.  Jim Wier basically told Wal-Mart to fuck off.   And you really should see the Robert Greenwood Film, WALMART: The High Cost of Low Price.  I’ve never stepped into a Wal-Mart store and never will.  I’d rather pay more, than save a little or even a lot — than spend my consumer dollars with a company who uses foreign sweatshop labor, forces employees into unpaid overtime, and provides such shoddy health care that its employees are forced to rely on medicaid supplements.  Cuckold and sterilize the bastards.  Otherwise they’ll continue to fuck like bunnies, continuing their rampant and destructive propagation.

Note to The Faithful Word Baptist Church:  Your pastor is a wackjob.  His words are poison, his agenda — that of a narcissistic, self-serving zealot. GET RID OF HIM.   True persons of God (Think:  Mother Theresa, Gandhi,  Buddha.  Think:  JESUS) do not promote hatred.  When the title of any preacher’s sermons starts with Why I Hate … you got trouble.  Big trouble.  And until you get smart and expel this jerk, send him packing, bounce his venom-spewing ass … well, I’m just going have to cuckold you as a matter or principle.   Because right now?  You’re bending over and don’t even know it.  You’re the congregation.  You’re the boss.  Fire that lowlife and get on with the business of really serving God.

And that will be enough for now.  I’m depleted, my rant is done.  Cuckolding pluralities, it turns out, takes time, effort and a whole lot of energy.  I’m going to take my tongue out of my cheek now and settle in to watch The Day the Earth Stood Still.  Maybe I’ll order in a Pizza.  No fluffers, no cuckolds, no lovers, no sex of any kind.  Just dinner and a movie.  Who da thunk it?  That a Cuckold Phone Sex Goddess would be doing that on a Sunday night?

xo, Angela

The Cuckold Movie:  The Cuckold

A Cuckold Story by me:  Benchwarmer

Another Cuckold Story by me:  Pussy Whipped Cuckold

Cuckold Phone Sex:  WITH A  REAL HOUSEWIFE

Cuckold Phone Sex:  FANTASY & ROLE PLAY with ME!

Okay … so I’m kinda sorta cranky.  But you have to admit — even you REAL men, GOOD men, SMART men — that SOME men just are an embarrassment to your gender.  Come on, you know it’s true.  So for the sake of good fun and to concurrently aid in shaking off my bitchiness, I’ve come up with a short list.  It could be a long list, so count your blessings.  I’ll refrain from emasculating the obvious —  Bill Clinton who gets a boner every time he passes a trailer park or John Ascroft who apparently gets a stiffie for aluminum nipples.

There’s plenty of others who’ve been rubbing me the wrong way … and when a FemDom Goddess (wink) gets irritated she just starts thinking evil thoughts about what she’d like to do or see be done to the offenders!  On a day like this I think the world itself would be a better place if a certain segment of its inhabitants were just finally, once-and-for-all, forced into panties with a butt plug shoved up their ass for good measure.  Going so far as to cuckold all of them, though, would be problematic:  If we cuckold all of them,  who would we cuckold them with?  Hmmm …  Seems the fantasy is NOT reality, after all.  Who knew?

Anyway this all started the other day when Rick Sanchez showed up at CNN in his regular time slot.  Say what you want about the election, it got me interested in THE NEWS.  Before Obama I was your typical twenty-something wannabe Princess type, worrying more about my pedicures and the perfect seasonal purse (never did find a good white one this summer) than the political landscape.  So — all in all — it’s been a rather good thing  … except the television is on around here a lot more than it used to be, as CNN — rather than classical rock — is now the background noise to my days.

But when Sanchez shows up, well, he is so weigtless and artificial that I’ve gotten to where I actually turn off  or at least mute the TV.  What in the hell is he doing?  Twittering and Face Booking and reading user comments … there’s just no substance here!

Then there’s the guy who sent me this email yesterday:  My best friend is Mr. X.  I masturbate to him all the time and he has no idea. I love talking about him via email and giving out REAL information about him.  Now I ask you readers, is that creepy or what?  Who does this asshole think he is to give out real info about anybody he knows, regardless of whether he jerks off to thoughts of them or not?  Particularly to a PSO, whom he knows nothing about.  And you can bet this email was copy and pasted into to dozen of emails and sent to dozens of girls.  Bleh.  If anything, he should give me his own real info, so I can tell Mr. X (and, yeah, I substituted the Mr. X for the real name), and everyone you know, what a loser pervert you are.

Wes Hayden, the cowboy contender on this year’s The Bachelorette, certainly deserves to have his fucking rights taken away.  Maybe even some enforced chastity.  If you weren’t watching (now that I TiVo, there’s a little too much of what I normally wouldn’t watch being recorded), Wes was one smooth talker (and country singer) who admitted openly that he was really there to promote his career.  And while his motives have since been debated ad nauseum all over the net, he did at least hint on more than one occasion that he already had a longterm girlfriend waiting back in Texas.  What a dirtbag!  And he was so smarmy … singing and twanging his acoustic guitar (geetar?) under Jillian’s balcony ala Romeo and Juliet.   Which might have been at least somewhat charming if he had any serious talent, rather than just being able to carry a tune.  Oh, and apparently, he’ll do anything for a buck.

Of course, I’ve just got to include the boorish and doltish Jon Gosselin, of Jon and Kate Plus 8, who abandoned his not-so happy-nest to trip the light fantastic with other D List not-so-super stars while schtupping  his (now ex) wife’s doctor’s daughter.  Maybe he thinks the earrings make up for his rude and crude (not to mention very public) behavior; I think he’s a loser putz of a man.  Yes, Kate was bossy and overbearing.  But when you have a puerile, self-centered numbskull who can’t hold a job for a husband, you really don’t have much of a choice.  I mean, after all, someone has to wear the pants!  A&E really needs to get around to changing the name of that show.  Possibly to Kate Plus 8?  Better yet and more accurately:  Kate Minus Wimp-Ass Whiner Boy Plus Eight.  And good for her and the kids because now they really will live happily ever after.  Good riddance to rubbish and dead weight.

And one more.  Just one more to cuckold.  At least for today.  You see I was sneaking down the book aisle at my grocery store the other day, even though I promised myself that I’d steer clear of all things hardback and paperback until I at least read at least ten of the hundred or so books I have piled here and there.  … and there.    and maybe there.  I didn’t buy a book, but I was amazed at what I saw among the hardbacks.  Which was UNMASKED:  THE FINAL YEARS OF MICHAEL JACKSON, by Ian Halperin.  Shame on him!  Could he get that book out fast enough after MJ died?  Talk about cashing in.  SCUM!  I checked out this poor-excuse-for-a-writer (he writes exposes … bleh!) at Amazon and … surprise!  The book only gets two out of five stars.  Goody.  And you can bet I would cuckold his ass.

Ahhhhh  … I feel much better now.

xo, Angela

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