SWPL: “Money is the root of all evil. It doesn’t bring happiness.”
Roosh: “Please explain.”
SWPL: “I visited Bolivia recently and did a tour of the salt flats. On the way over we stopped at a village that was extremely poor. I felt bad at first, but then these little kids ran up to me with the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen in life. They were covered in dirt and grime, even on their faces, and were wearing tattered clothing, but I swear, they were the happiest human beings I’ve met.”
R: “Did the kids want anything from you?”
SWPL: “Yes, they stuck their hands out. I gave them some chocolate.”
R: “Did the chocolate satisfy them?”
SWPL: “Did it ever! They were so happy, ripping open the packaging and shoving it down their little mouths. It was amazing how such a simple item gave them so much pleasure. If I gave you chocolate you probably wouldn’t even be half as happy.”
R: “Is there anything else you could have given them that would have made them even happier?”
SWPL: “Um, I don’t know.”
R: “How about new pairs of pants?”
SWPL: “I guess. Their pants did seem old.”
R: “How about if you constructed a new house with air conditioning. Would that have made them happier than your chocolates?”
SWPL: “You’re just being silly now.”
R: “I’m asking you hypothetically. Of course I know you are not able to build a new house for them.”
SWPL: “Okay then, yes, I guess making them a house with air conditioning would make them happier than chocolates. It was mighty hot and they didn’t even have fans.”
R: “How about if you gave them $10,000. They could use that to build a new house, eat for a year, and buy as much chocolate as they want. Would that make them happy?”
SWPL: “Yes. I think $10,000 would make anyone happier.”
R: “But you said they don’t need money to be happy.”
SWPL: “Now you’re twisting my words. I said that without money they are capable of being more happy than people who are richer than them.”
R: “Are you richer than them?”
R: “Are those kids, and by extension, their families, happier than you?”
SWPL: “Yes, I believe so.”
R: “What is the reason that they are happier than you?”
SWPL: “Because they are better able to appreciate the little things in life that we, in our fast-paced capitalist lifestyle, fail to appreciate.”
R: “Do you want to be happier than you are now?”
SWPL: “Yes, of course.”
R: “So when do you plan on moving to the Bolivian dirt village?”
SWPL: “Don’t be stupid.”
R: “Why wouldn’t you move if it would make you happier?”
SWPL: “I can’t. I have my family and friends here. I have responsibilities.”
R: “What responsibilities?”
SWPL: “I have student loans.”
R: “The student loan companies will chase you to Bolivia?”
SWPL: “I can’t just move there!”
R: “So you don’t want to be happier than you are now?”
SWPL: “I want to, but the culture is different. I would have to learn Spanish.”
R: “Learning a language is a small price to pay for being happy. I’m sure with even your meager savings you can live a year in the dirt village without having to work.”
SWPL: “But… the village doesn’t have internet.”
R: “You need internet to be happy?”
SWPL: “I’ve gotten used to it. Look, if I was born in the dirt village I would have been happier, but since I was born in America, I can’t just go live there.”
R: “Are things like plumbing, air conditioning, supermarkets, and clean clothes important to you?”
R: “It is to me, too. I wouldn’t live in the dirt village. It would make me less happy.”
SWPL: “See that’s what you don’t understand. It makes them happier. They are used to the village and can appreciate living with less stuff.”
R: “If you gave them a choice between living in the dirt village and swapping lives with you in the suburbs, with its fast-paced capitalist lifestyle, which would they pick?”
SWPL: “They would want to live here, but it’s because they don’t know better. They would wind up being less happy than in the dirt village.”
R: “They wouldn’t be happier with plumbing, internet, and less dirt?”
SWPL: “Okay, well, maybe a little happier at first. Then they would get bored.”
R: “Being bored with something, or taking it for granted, reduces your happiness levels so that you long for poverty?”
SWPL: “I don’t know.”
R: “How much time did you spend with the dirt children?”
SWPL: “About ten minutes.”
R: “And during that time you were able to evaluate their needs, their desires, and then conclude that they enjoyed living in dirt housing with the most basic of sustenance?”
SWPL: “Their smiles were very real to me.”
R: “I have no doubt that they were, but if I saw a person of wealth 1000 times greater than that of myself, my smile would be genuine as well as I stuck my hand out. I’d hope that that person would pity me and give me just a tiny percentage of his wealth so that I could get a taste of his more comfortable and pleasurable lifestyle.”
SWPL: “They don’t need that lifestyle.”
R: “Do you? Do you need the iPhone that you keep staring at every couple of minutes?”
SWPL: “I mean…”
R: “Is it possible that you interpreted their smiles incorrectly, and that they are indeed living a life which, had you lived it, would be close to suffering?”
SWPL: “I may have misinterpreted things.”
R: “You are not the first person to tell me that poor people are happy. Do you have an idea of why this is?”
SWPL: “I don’t.”
R: “It’s a self-defense mechanism.”
R: “It is inherently unfair that you have 1000 times more than another human being who, through the bad fortune of having been born in the wrong place at the wrong time, will never have a comfortable life that you take for granted, no matter how hard they work. If in your travels you were to see this and accept it for what it is, you would break down in tears at the horrible plight of many billions of people on this earth, but when you convince yourself—in fact delude yourself—into believing that poor people who live on $1 a day are happier than you, you are able to push away this realization so that your travels are uninterrupted by the cruelness of humanity, so that you can upload photos of dirt children on Facebook and receive the likes from your friends who comment on how happy the children seem to appear.”
SWPL: “I didn’t think of it that way.”
R: “If you were unable to trick yourself into thinking that hungry children are happier, how do you think that would change your travel plans?”
SWPL: “I would stop visiting poor countries, I guess.”
R: “Or you would just close your eyes to the poverty, as I have. Poverty is not your fault, but spreading the idea that poverty is happiness, or is somehow romantic, is an insult to those who are experiencing it.”
SWPL: “But I feel guilty that I have so much more than those kids.”
R: “Do you really?”
SWPL: “Yes. I wish they weren’t so poor.”
R: “How much money do you have saved up?”
SWPL: “Only $2,000. It’s my emergency fund.”
R: “Poor people live in perpetual emergency. Donate that money to a poor village. Let it go to their water and food. Do it now if you care about them!”
SWPL: “I can’t. I need it.”
R: “They need it, too.”
SWPL: “But I worked hard for it!”
R: “I thought you wished they weren’t so poor.”
SWPL: “Yeah but…”
R: “Do you still think poor people are happy?”
SWPL: “Not really.”
R: “Are you going to do anything about their plight?”
R: “And neither am I. Now go forth and continue your search for happiness. Work hard and pay off those student loans. Maybe soon you can afford another vacation.”
The above was inspired from the Bolivian chapter in my book A Dead Bat In Paraguay.Tweet Follow @rooshv
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that was awesome!
I laughed my ass off when you called them “the dirt children.”
I like it though – very Socratic. I’ve met a lot of people who think this way too.
poverty = require friends and family to survive
having money = don’t need anyone else to survive
happiness = having strong connection to friends and family
unhappiness = being alone, weak connections to family/friends
The fisherman story.
Prelude: A rich multinational is on holiday with his wife and sees a small boat on the shore with an old man sitting with his fishing lure made of wood.
Intrigued by the old man, he walks up to him and begins a dialogue:
Man: “Interesting boat you have here, i noticed you’re fishing with you’re rod. How’s it like living with your wife and kids on a boat while you’re fishing?
Old Man: “It’s great, i get to sit in the nice basking weather, fishing and looking after my family. I do pretty well and catch a lot of fish.
Man: “That’s great, you seem to have a lot of talent. I’m very successful back home and pretty good at seeing opportunities.
The man continues…
“What if you bought a large casting net so you could catch more fish?”
Old Man: “Ok, and then what?”
Man: “Then you could open a small shop and sell fish to the locals”
Old Man: “…Ok, and then what would i do?”
Man: “Then you could hire assistants to help sell your fish, start a chain of stops, and then one day, you could retire and sit back with your family and do what you want to do”
The Old man pauses and responds with a small grin…
“… But that’s what i’m doing now…”
The multinational, amazed by his response…
“Sir, i’m really happy to have met you…”
Moral to the story: Happiness isn’t found, it is experienced in the here and now!
What does SWPL stand for?
SWPL stands for:
A term used to describe a naieve, spoilt, upper class white person.
SWPL = stuff that uptight white urban liberals like.
Don’t ever write a screenplay. Not really your forte.
Of course, they are starting from a faulty premise. It is not money which is the root of all evil, but the love of money. If you’re into the whole Jesus thing, that is.
I was very happy reading this but I doubt a real SWPL would actually sit through that entire conversation especially once he started to realize his position might not be correct. I’ve had similar conversations. They’re a good way to weed out the losers in your social life.
this was an interesting post, it made me think.
Love the ‘fisherman story’ by Onder.
Having African heritage (I’m mixed race) and having been to Africa a number of times visiting family, i can only part agree with Roosh. Yes, poverty is a serious burden for many people in the world, but my cousins in Africa are way happier (and poorer) than my African cousins here in the U.K. Why? …. Where to begin!
SWPL= Single White Professional Lawyer chick
Great post, really nails the hollowness of the SWPL view on poverty.
I’m guessing this conversation was with a girl, because even though SWPL men do endorse bullshit like this it’s something I head way more often from girls.
Well, actually There is some truth to poor people being happier but it’s not the lack of money that makes them happy it’s the culture they live in. If your country has a nice culture and everyone you know has the same as you you will be happier than if you are rich and live in a place where everyone tries to fuck you over and everybody hates each other. The killer here is that a lot of money would probably ruin the cultures and make everyone more miserable than before. I worked in one country and had around thousand three hundred dollars after tax per month then I moved to another country and I earn three times more. I was much happier in the first country, but my income had nothing to do with it, it was just a better culture to live in.
Let me add that the price level in the two countries differed by around twenty percent.
It’s almost like a Carlos Castaneda piece.
This vignette exposes the cognitive dissonance of most people here in the US who “have” when they look down on the rest of the world.
Now, I’ve very close to the reality of this situation in that my mother was born and raised in such a place in S. America. I’ve visited the little village and surrounding area with my own eyes and have interacted with those “dirt kids” myself. Yes, they appear very happy as you toss them coins or give them goodies that their impoverished families cannot provide themselves.
However, my mother had the fortune of marry a Gringo, my Dad, and escape that poverty. To this day, in the 40+ years I’ve been able to comprehend the English language and communicate with her, I can say she’s only regaled me the tales of her HAPPY CHILDHOOD fewer than 5 times.
She moved away from that great happiness to the bigger city in the same country, then even moved from there to Panama to live for a while in a time when American’s ruled the Canal Zone. And that’s where she had the good fortune (or perhaps planning and forethought) to land in a hot zone of available American bachelors.
Furthermore, to this day, she rarely travels back to her home country and has no desire to ever go back, despite how many family members still live there. On the flip side, more and more of here family end up traveling HERE and moving HERE to the US to enjoy, albeit for a short time, what she’s enjoyed and I’ve grown up with for over 40 years.
So, right on Roosh!
Great post Roosh. I don’t think poverty = happiness, but I can tell that in America wealth + isolation + self-delusion = unhappiness.
happy…such a slippery word.
poor people and the uneducated are undoubtedly better able to enjoy spontaneous happiness than your typical self conscious, status anxious westerner. if you’ve spent time around poor people there’s no denying that many of them carry a lighter heart and experience more joy with the little things in life.
however, as far as happiness with one’s security goes and one’s overall situation, no shit that poor people lose on that count.
Happynes hase nothing to do with having Money ore not there are alot of broke people who are happy and rich people who are misserable.
The same ase poor people who are misserable and rich people who are happy.
IT’S about how you view you’reself and the emotions that go with it.
So true wealth is about feeling good no matter the circumstances and doing what you can to create a better live fore you’reself that helps you allowing you’reself to feel even better mor easily.
That’s what the kids did asking fore choclate they took action instead of beeing ashamed of beeing poor.
That’s why some Wealthy People keep on Working because they enjoy it and want to create something even better. even though they allready look happy.
It’S allways an inside Job…at least that’s my opinion :)
Ouch! Right in the privilege.
Nobody ever put it that way. Right on.
“Well, actually There is some truth to poor people being happier but it’s not the lack of money that makes them happy it’s the culture they live in. If your country has a nice culture and everyone you know has the same as you you will be happier than if you are rich and live in a place where everyone tries to fuck you over and everybody hates each other. The killer here is that a lot of money would probably ruin the cultures and make everyone more miserable than before. I worked in one country and had around thousand three hundred dollars after tax per month then I moved to another country and I earn three times more. I was much happier in the first country, but my income had nothing to do with it, it was just a better culture to live in.”
Rastafarians are poor as fuck and I’ve yet to meet one that seemed unhappy to me. Though listening to reggae and smoking ganja all day may have something to with that.
I don’t see much correlation between wealth and happiness. The real formula is Expectations – your reality = happiness. People who don’t have much but don’t expect much aren’t necessarily unhappy. People in the West expect a LOT out of life from a material standpoint. There’s also a cultural/religious component to this as well. I don’t think you can point to any nation and assume their general happiness level based on their material well-being.
I think a good indicator of the overall happiness level of a culture is its suicide rates. The top 10 countries are dominated by FSU and E. Asian countries: http://www.ibtimes.com/top-ten-most-suicidal-countries-photos-706235 . I’m sure America’s suicide rate far surpasses Bolivia’s.
as long as their basic needs are met.
@26 – I can tell you are a wise man. You are probably very handsome also.
It’s crazy how guys in the FSU have the best chicks but commit suicide in high numbers. Life is crazy!
The other side of Geo-arbitrage?
I bet you are one sexy beast yourself!
Fuck! I messed that up!
“The term is generally used in a pejorative way (and in a partisan fashion within American political circles). White guilt has been cited by many conservatives and libertarians as a way for liberals and others to induce white Americans to support the policies of affirmative action and redistribution of wealth. White guilt has been described as one of several psychosocial costs of racism for white individuals along with the ability to have empathic reactions towards
racism, and fear of non-whites”
Read the book. If you have not done so already, it is well worth its money.
This article is a masterpiece.
I *DO* live in Paraguay since 2009 and can fully support everything you have said.
If poverty was a choice, they would choose our western lifestyle any day.
Nope. The point isn’t that most poor ppl are happier than rich people, the point is that one can be still happy while being “poor”. “Poor people are happier ” is a bad analogy.
I lived both in the US and in a third world country on <$300 a month. With that kind of money ppl had enough to sustain themselves so they weren't in starving no water kind of poverty. Of course you need to have ur basic needs met. t's all in the attitude to life. And yes, those there were happier. Of course there are places where people are dirt poor and unhappy too.
This is the same as people saying that Hollywood celebs or sports stars have hard lives coz they are in the public eye or are scrutinized every minute. They would NOT want to be you. You are a poor Bolivian child to them, Do NOT feel sympathy for celebrities.
Roosh, intrinsic in your argument is a linear, causal relationship between wealth and happiness. It’s not so.
The marginal value of wealth to bring additional happiness declines rapidly after basic needs are met. I read some study that said marginal income after $70k or so doesn’t do much for happiness.
Americans are probably twice as wealthy as they were 30 years ago, but are they twice as happy? No.
Think of yourself. You are wealthier now with your book writing. Are you happier than before? No.
Think of people you know. At 30-35 you are making 2x-4x the income you were making right out of college. Are you 2x-4x happier. I doubt it.
Chasing money is a false god.
this was retarded beyond belief. Also, a waste of our time to construct a moronic ideal type that rarely exists and than dismantle their beliefs.
Damn, Roosh. You’re growing on me.
There’s one thing I disagree with. No one has to live in a dirt village. You can build a house with your bare hands. But I do understand the social hierarchy of Latin America, with the black children at the bottom, and yes they deserve a chance to better themselves (whether they take it is something else).
Anyways….ironically enough the one time I had that conversation was with a non-white girl who just got her citizenship. “But they are happy!” Her point was that living in dirt was equal to living in a house in suburbia. I was thinking about penicillin and all the advancements those who live in suburbia have made so that we can alleviate human suffering.
If your blessed with a high IQ and a first world existence…you have to work to make the world a better place (like health and safety standards for one thing) but that doesn’t mean you give your stuff away.
First World = Honest Work = Enjoyment of fruits of labor
Yeah a commenter above nails it…
Happiness….Living in the moment? Or having the ability to improve, think ahead, create?
Poor people definitely > living in the moment
We however got the second hands down.
And ours ultimately leads to a greater, more meaningful happiness.
Get the book Dead Bat In Paraguay, It’s a fucking gem! If you like the posts about other aspects of life that are secondary to picking up then the book will be a page turner for you.
Happiness is there when you have the time for it ,money is irrelevant to the situation
One survey said american women are the least happeist on earth..slap in the face for 3rd worlders
Great little dialogue Roosh — reminds me a bit of Mark Twain’s “What Is Man?” which everyone should have in their Library of Realistic Thinking. Here’s my newly corrected 2013 version (replacing the tasteless ALL CAPS of typical Web electronic versions with Twain’s original italics) plus a complete facsimile from photocopies of old print editions:
Please pass it around folks, it’s as valuable for realistic thinking as anything you can imagine.
“Americans are probably twice as wealthy as they were 30 years ago, but are they twice as happy? No. ”
The US standard of living had its peak 1971 (b4 Nixxon closed the gold window) and has been going down ever since.
Dont believe that? Just remember that back then people bought a car, not leased it. One income was enough to live a comfortable live and send kids to a good shool WITHOUT student loans.
Women didnt have to work, and that alone is a host of many problems and tons of unhappy families.
I haven’t been to Bolivia so I can’t comment directly, but I don’t think it’s right to say that poor people are unhappy because they’re poor.
Living in a small mud brick hut, walking 20 minutes to get fresh water, getting to eat foods you like only in certain seasons and having to eat other less fresh things the rest of the year, working hard a good part of the day, needing extra blankets on cold nights, none of these things make poor people unhappy.
It’s only the external factors, like fear of being robbed or killed, crushing population density that causes mass unhygienic conditions and illness, that makes third world people unhappy.
Were the pioneers in America unhappy 200 years ago because they had to work hard to survive, pump their own water, and ration to make sure they had food for the winter? I don’t think so.
OK I think I have “What Is Man?” sorted out now; ignore the previous 2SHARED link and use this new one.
It’s important for everyone to read this because it explains very clearly how the human mind works. Reviewing it, I found it is also directly applicable to learning Game — the magic Twain word is association, as you will see.
(By the way, Twain was an atheist; the references to ‘God’ really mean ‘nature’ — or ‘aspects of nature which we haven’t fully worked out yet and so still seem like the work of a supreme being.’)
Money DOES make you happy, IF you know how to use it. Instead of using money to buy things for the sake of buying things (ie. iPhone just because it’s something everyone buys) you should use money to buy things that compliment your lifestyle image (I like wearing leather jackets and lighting my red marlboros with my zippo in a bar ’cause it just feels awesome and it suits what I consider a badass lifestyle – attitude and approach to life similar to Lemmy Kilmister’s).
Psych studies (yes I know psychology is a cruddy pseudo-science) show that people in all places, from all walks of life have a similar ‘base’ level of happiness. The Dalai Lama suggests that the poor have a much simpler metric of happiness: if they’re fed/clothed/sheltered, they’re happy, if not they’re unhappy. Having more ‘stuff’ creates complexity which leads to problems. That being said, anyone whose basic needs (food/clothing/shelter) aren’t being met is unhappy. I am of the opinion that in the US there is a certain amount of money which produces optimal happiness. Basic needs are met, you can afford to have children and pursue your interests, but you don’t have enough for it to be a burden. I feel that someone making $80,000/yr won’t be any happier if they make $90,000 the next year – chances are they’ll have to work harder/more hours which will reduce their quality of life as much as the extra 10K will enable them to improve it.
He manages to keep it up for a while, ducking the Hulk, retreating as best he can whenever he sees him, even if that means losing ground or having a plan unravel. It does absolutely nothing to calm him: now he’s being frustrated on two levels; not only that but ignoring the monster is harder than he’d thought, just the sight of him makes his skin prickle and a warm wash of heat stir inside him.
Maybe if he kills the Hulk this hell will be over at last?
The thought makes him reckless, makes him fling himself at the creature, wanting to damage and rend and kill even though he’s learned he’ll fail. By now he expects the blow, only hopes he isn’t being flung into the Hudson again because he’s yet to find a dignified way to drag himself out and it’s just plain embarrassing.
At least it’s not the Hudson, though the Hulk might just have poor aim today, he thinks as he crashes through reinforced glass and into some poor schmuck’s skyscraper office. Then there’s screaming and fleeing and all that other fun stuff; part of him thinks New Yorkers must enjoy this sort of chaos, otherwise they’d leave the city to the gods and monsters who inexplicably gravitate towards it.
He’s still dusting himself off when the beast himself crashes in through the entrance his live projectile made. Loki turns around, trying to ignore the part of him that’s singing with anticipation because the poor thing’s only going to be disappointed again and it seems so cruel to tease it. Then the Hulk has him by the neck and it’s not only the lack of oxygen that’s making it hard to think. He squirms in the giant’s grasp, fights for something to stand on, to take the pressure off his throat; it’s not until he gets a purchase somewhere and the throttling sensation lightens a little that he realises he’s got his legs over the beast’s shoulders.
Ohhh, the frustration of being rejected this time is going to kill him.
May as well make some mischief before he goes though. He flashes a crazy grin and wriggles his ass provocatively against the Hulk’s chest. “How do you want me, big boy?”
He gets a suspicious look in return.
Time to bring out the big guns. He squirms in the Hulk’s grasp, just until he can reach one of the massive fingers that spills over the line of his jaw, and nips it gently between his teeth. “Come on,” he whispers. “God I may be, but I’m also a frost giant. I suspect you don’t see enough other giants to be picky.”
The Hulk frowns at him. “Puny giant.”
“Yes, yes, we’ve been over this before. You’re so very, very big, and so very strong: the kind of creature who can fling me around mercilessly and do whatever you want with me. I have noticed.” He grins again, a savage-naughty-dirty grin, and squeezes his legs around the Hulk’s neck, making his meaning as obvious as possible.
And is promptly thrown across the room. He drags himself up, trying to ignore the wretched burn of disappointment; if that didn’t work he doesn’t think anything will.
He hasn’t yet righted himself when the world whirls again and he’s slammed face down into the floor. To his surprise, one huge hand is placed almost gently on his back and there’s a strange sense of a question about the touch. Before he can think of a cogent answer it feels like something short-circuits in his brain and spine, something that’s been ignored for far too long suddenly making very vocal demands; he whines and pushes his ass up, realising he just got completely fucking shameless about what he needs and not caring one bit.
Whatever he’s done it seems to be enough encouragement for the beast. Loki’s cloak vanishes first, then a chunk of his armour. He has to scrabble to get the rest off before it’s ripped from him; that stuff’s hard to find. The cloth underclothes do get sacrificed, rapidly followed by the Hulk’s astoundingly stretchy trousers, and then he’s facedown on the carpeted floor with a giant green hand between his shoulder blades and one humongous finger stroking his bare ass. Loki’s glad he hadn’t really given up on the idea of this and has prepared for the eventuality, but really he thinks he’s desperate enough to have taken anything the giant throws at him anyway; anticipation is making him physically shake. He whines as the finger moves away then moans in satisfaction as a hot, hard dick slides between his thighs, slicking his belly. It almost reaches his navel. Oh, yessss.
Loki squirms backwards, tightening his legs around the Hulk’s cock and shivering in anticipation. It’s bigger than he expected, and suddenly he’s not certain if his preparations for this moment have been enough; when he feels it slide backwards and up the cleft of his ass to press at his sphincter he’s sure it hasn’t been enough; as the head shoves into him he knows it hasn’t been. He can’t help screaming in pleasure/pain even though he wants more, he’s only just started. To his surprise the Hulk stops. No. Nonononono. It might hurt but he’s not stopping now. He squirms backwards as best he can with the hand between his shoulders pinning him down, trying to encourage the beast; he’s hungry for more, almost hums with delight when he feels the monster start moving again. A big hand slides underneath him and pulls him into a position more comfortable for the Hulk; it makes the voice in the back of his head sing, so hungry for this kind of domination. The next shove rips another scream from him, but this time he pushes back before anything stops. The stretch and burn of having that mammoth dick fucking his ass is everything he’s hungered for and he wants more.
“Is this all you’ve got?” he hisses.
Behind him there’s a pause; he worries for a moment that he’s pissed the green monster off and now he’s going to lose everything, but the next slam of hips leaves him too breathless to scream. He doesn’t get a chance to catch his breath before the next impact forces into him; Hulk pounds into him like a jackhammer, running roughshod over his prostate, each brutal thrust deeper and deeper, filling him up and emptying him again; he tries to move backwards to meet the motion but he’s held too tightly, his face still pressed into the floor. The Hulk’s other hand is on his belly now, Loki finds himself wondering if the beast can feel his own cock in there. Somehow he feels that thought shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. He whines again as the Hulk slows, pulling his dick back so far it almost comes out, and moans in satisfaction as he’s filled once more, this time right to the hilt. The sensation of the Hulk’s scrotum pressed against the back of his own, powerful loins warm against his ass, makes his eyes roll back: he’s taken all of it. But he’s still greedy for more. Hopefully a wriggle of encouragement will communicate that. As the green beast pulls all the way out and slides slowly into him again he thinks he’ll have to remember this new language. The next slip-slide is faster, and again, until they’re back at jackhammer speed, only now it’s deeper, harder, filling him more completely, forcing little barking breaths out of him with every stroke. He wants to touch his own cock but daren’t, he has a feeling that now he’s started the avalanche the beast isn’t going to stop if his partner comes.
The thought turns him on more than he can describe.
The Hulk rams into him again, again, again, this time somehow pushing even deeper and adding to the heat inside him, ripping another scream from his lips.
It slows: the thrusts are almost gentle, still rough on his tortured asshole, but it’s a good pain, a tingle that lets him know he’s alive. The hand on his back starts to rub his spine instead of pinning him, sliding towards his ass in a way that makes that purring sensation at the small of his back start up again. Loki’s distracted from it by the feel of something trickling between his legs; he looks down, wondering if it’ll be blood and whether that’ll excite him, but no, the giant’s spent himself.
The frustrated growl sounds louder than he expected, but he doesn’t care. A god reduced to waving his ass in the air and screaming like a she-cat in heat, and this beast is finished already? It’s simply not acceptable.
Hulk seems to sense his mood. The hands on him move around to grab his waist, pinning his arms in too. As he’s lifted into the Hulk’s lap Loki feels some deep and strange satisfaction in that part of his brain that’s been itching, something to do with those hands being able to encircle him so completely. If only he’d known that before the dull creature had finished.
Being pulled backward and down onto the Hulk’s half-hard cock shuts up that train of thought immediately, makes him gasp. It’s a different sensation, still stretching his asshole in a way that’s fucking delicious, but softer, then the beast is hard again and Loki is shivering with sensation overload. The huge hands around him lift him and yank him down, he’s got even less control than he had before and his nerves are singing with it. All that matters is the sensation of the cock buried so very deep inside him, the sheer size of it guaranteeing it hits his sweet spot every fucking time; the way his asshole is convulsing, trying to deal with such delightful abuse; the mind-wrecking pressure in his ass sending electric crackles of pleasure through him; the screaming demands for friction from his still untouched dick; the absolutely helpless situation he’s in: this beast is practically masturbating with him wrapped around its huge cock and he’s gagging for more. He lets himself hang as if boneless, little gasping cries tearing out of his throat with every brutal jerk, every slam, surrendering to being fucked so hard he can barely think, he can’t even hear himself murmuring, “Please, please, please…”
Through the fog of overstimulation he’s vaguely aware of the Hulk coming inside him again, but this time he’s got no complaints. He’s dropped almost tenderly back into the Hulk’s lap with the semi-hard dick still buried in his aching ass. Feeling strangely content he leans back and let’s his head fall against the green skin of the giant’s chest, trying to get his breath back and wondering mischievously if he dare find out whether another teasing squirm will earn him a repeat performance.
His ass feels painfully empty when he’s finally dragged off the Hulk’s dick and laid on the floor. The carpet’s prickly against his skin and his cock is a screaming focus of need. This time he slides a hand down to touch himself, needing relief at last. The sudden sensation of a too-warm hand landing on his hip makes him freeze; he’d thought the creature gone, but he’s lying right there behind him, watching.
One green finger slides between Loki’s thighs and lifts, the movement a question.
He can only manage a nod but that’s enough. He’s so well fucked now that his ass accepts the huge cock back inside with barely a breath of effort despite the sideways position. The Hulk holds still, just twitching his hips occasionally while Loki strokes himself off. Part of him thinks he’d like to take as long as possible over this, but he knows it’s not going to happen, there’s too much sensation built up inside him, too much pleasure, if anything he’s overstimulated. He can’t help squeezing his exhausted ass muscles though, enjoying the feeling of being almost painfully full while he jerks his dick, and he can tell from the giant’s fingers gripping his leg that he’s getting off on it too. The tight feeling pooling in his pelvis makes him shiver, he knows he’s so close, he just needs a little bit more… The Hulk drops the gentle pace and slams into him again, like he’s a fucking mind-reader, and Loki screams as pleasure tears through him, crackling off nerve endings and sending shivery trembles into his limbs. Another slam sends an aftershock through him, then another, and another. Hulk doesn’t stop until Loki’s utterly spent and too wrung out by ecstacy and pain to take any more.
The god looks up and sees a strange look on the beast’s face, he looks… almost concerned. Loki grins at him, already knowing it’s one of those mad, rictus grins that reassures absolutely nobody but too blissed out to care. He thinks he should have guessed sooner that the absolutely and explicitly direct approach might work.
The ache in his ass is going to hang around for days, and just the thought of it makes him tingle. Or maybe that’s the purring sensation at the base of his spine making such happy, happy noises.
Dr. Banner wakes up in a fug of bleary memories and aching muscles. Something feels… different, like he did something unusual.
Thor sits on his haunches next to him and tosses a blanket over his naked form. “Are you unwell, Doctor? We are unaccustomed to you leaving the field of battle so early and for so long.”
Banner blinks, feeling shades of Hulk’s memories surface in his brain… something to do with Thor, but not with Thor, something vaguely related to Thor… OH, SHIT!
All of Loki’s various allies are giving him odd looks: the god of mischief should not hum. Especially not happily. Maybe if it was a threatening hum things would be different, but this? This strange, contented version of Loki is utterly terrifying. And the hungry, anticipatory smile is almost worse.
Against all his expectations, Doom thinks he prefers the angry broken maniac. At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about the prospect of Loki doing something more insane than usual.
Or, for that matter, worry about the red heart Loki’s drawn around a date on his calendar four days from now…
To be fair, the dirt children probably have a much closer bond to their families than the SWPLers. I’m assuming that they’re getting enough to eat and they have a roof over their heads.
My ancestors who homesteaded on the American plains probably weren’t much different than the dirt children.
@43 Throw away your bogus statistics and use your eyes. Were you around 30 years ago in 1983? I remember it clearly.
Back then most cars were beat up and rusty (I lived in New England). Many families had only 1 car. Many of my friends had to share bedrooms with siblings. People had a color TV, maybe a VCR.
In 2013 families have 2 cars of late model vintage (look at the parking lot of any Wal-Mart). Houses are WAY bigger. They have computers, iphones, internet access. 200 channels of cable TV. Flying has gone up massively for the masses.
By any standard the average American lives in far more material abundance than they did 30 years ago.
But they are not happier.
“People are never as happy or unhappy as they think they are.”
–La Rochefoucauld (1630-1680)
I think man is only truly happy when he is building or struggling to acheive something.
That moment when you realise a goal you have worked hard for is true happiness but that feeling doesn’t last long.
That’s why man should never be comfortable for too long.
I’ve produced an even more readable and convenient version of Mark Twain’s “What Is Man?” — this time it’s .MOBI format. I think this can be read on Kindle. On PC it looks fine with Mobi Pocket Reader.
Yes, it is relevant to this post, as it contains a discussion of happiness. At least some people are happy, Twain says, because it is simply part of their character. So here’s a .mobi version for you all:
i grew up in my mexican/cajun grandparents house. we were very poor. 9 of us living in a small 3 bedroom house.
some of the best memories of my childhood. i’m not now and never will be rich, but i honestly have no needs. wants- SURE. NEEDS- nope.
food on my table, roof over my head, my doggy Brody, family, and the adoration of the wimminz.
i’m all set
Well, I hate to disagree with you but, although you depict liberal delusions very well and you are very bright, you miss some aspects.
I don’t want to romanticize poverty. But I live in Central America where I am writing now. I left my cushy existence and my good job in Europe (I am a native European) because people here are happier and so am I (being surrounded by happy people makes you happy as some scientists have discovered recently but everybody knows). When I go back to the country I was born, I see that 25% are on antidepressants. Here, in the country I live, the percentage is tiny.
Some weeks ago, there was a rank of the happiest countries in the world and the country I live was number 3. Despite its wealth, Singapur was the last one. How is this possible?
It is possible because unhappiness is the difference between expectations and reality. And these Central American countries have low expectations so reality, being crappy, doesn’t hit them that hard.
US people are known to have insane expectations. Women think they will marry Prince Charming. Men think they are going to be rich. Then reality hits them and they are unhappy. They expect to have what the neighbor has. So they are frustrated because they don’t have the latest version of iPhone.
They have a good reality but their expectations are stratospheric.
So, yes, I disagree with you.
I think it’s important to consider the difference between contentment and happiness. Contentment is a choice.
It’s also important to consider Mazlow’s Hierarchy of Needs:
America’s apparent wealth is mostly credit based. Debt creates stress.
Money is not the root of all evil, the love of money is the root of all evil.
[...] on the poor people are happy [...]
[...] Poor People Are Happy – http://www.rooshv.com/poor-people-are-happy [...]
“I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor. Believe me, honey, rich is better.”
Roosh. You have stated in the past…..the more you have, the more you get used to having it. Those who have none don’t know they have none unless they have something to compare it to. Neither of us are wealthy…..and it is not in out reality to understand having ten million dollars in our account….if we did…..and really understood what wealth bought. We would spend time chasing that…..but we don’t chase extreme wealth….because we’ve never had it to understand what we’re missing. We can imagine….by what we see on tv, but it will still not be our reality until it is
I really want to keep disliking you as much as you dislike females like me.
But then you post things like “How much time did you spend with the dirt children?” and I crack up.
We have a saying from the Irish side of my family.
“It’s more fun than poor people!”
You’d have to grow up poor to understand it. And as we both know, they don’t “get it” in this town.
that’s why I like you, man. You don’t just fuck some silly bitches. You make me think.
“poverty = require friends and family to survive”
Or the government.
“having money = don’t need anyone else to survive”
Who gave them that money in the first place? And what about connections; aren’t they an example of needing others to survive? Money by itself is pretty useless; it’s value is in its value to other people, institutions, and society. You can’t eat money. You can burn it for fuel, but firewood is better. And even earning money is a contract between yourself and someone else willing to exchange your labor for his money.
The only people who “don’t need anyone else to survive” are the rare eccentrics who live by themselves out in the wilderness. Money is useless to them.