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The Five Laws of ThermoDomestics
By Professor Tony Rooster and the Dean of Clean T. Spoone Slickens, Inquire
© 2019 James LaFond
Inquire Slickens, has lost his spot in the janitorial closet at Saint Dominick’s Church in Baltimore, Maryland, because some trifling bitch he was making time with got jealous of him letting truant school children hang out in his work space in return for an education in reality—unlike that regular school shit—and is now maintaining Tony Rooster’s Man Roost in the Port-of-Dick-Exchange, in return for conducting theoretical research into abating the process of Bitch Itch plaguing that now frail place, where slave men are sometimes seen fussing with their wives in public over who gets to carry the purse.
ThermoDomestics is the process by which a man becomes enamored enough with a hot woman that he considers domestic cohabitation. The laws below have been assembled by the authors as wards against the ever-present possibility of domestication, which might eventually become terminal and result in emasculation, which, though it is in vogue, is not something we recommend. Indeed the Four Laws of ThermoDomestics have been assembled to prevent this eventuality.
Remember that a woman’s end game goal, the subtext of her every action, imprinted by Satan in her DNA in the Garden of Cushy Pushy Eden, is to reshape you into her best friend, which translates to turning you into a bitch and destroying you.
Laws #1
Don’t Fuck Around With A Bitch That Has More Problems Than You
If she’s got a fat ass and a job than there probably is not an issue. If she’s homeless and has three kids than there probably is an issue. This is easy. Add up your baggage, then add up her baggage and, more often than not, her baggage is going to look like Santa’s Sleigh on December 24. She might be fine, and you’re a man, and will hit it anyway, but that is what the gas pedal is for. If you bring Thor’s hammer down in the P.M. you better bring that pedal down in the A.M. Romeo! This is the art of toxic masculinity, using it [her] without losing it [you].
Law #2
A Bitch at Rest
Cohabitating with a man in motion,
Shall inevitably become a pest…
You see, that lazy bitch trifling in the background screwed up my first Portland rhyme.
Keep her at her chores, my man.
Law #3
Don’t Let Your Bitch See Your Paycheck
If you make $25 an hour, make her think you’re bringing in $15. Don’t let her hold your wallet, use your card, see your pay stub or otherwise know your worth. There is nothing wrong with her seeing you as the source of money. But giving her direct knowledge and or access concerning your source of money will just result in her seeing you as a mere conduit of funds and thus reducing you in her mind’s eye to the bag boy of her material needs.
Law #4
The Joint Bank Account Is The Devil’s Work
If this requires explanation, then take your ass to the nearest wide-eyed priest and seek a good old fashioned exorcism, because The Woman has worked her wiles deep into your brain.
Law #5
No Pussy Equals No Relationship
You married guys have been nodding smugly along, agreeing. Now, do not spill your coffee over this next one, which your old ass is probably guilty of not enforcing, and make things right by taking what is yours. She’ll thank you later.
If you have to ask for pussy it’s close to the end. If your demands to enjoy what God designed for your employ are not respected, then you probably violated Rule #2 and can expect to find her blowing your boss.
The violation of any of these five laws will tend to lead to a cascade effect in which the other four laws begin to come into play, with the process generally describing a 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 trajectory of lineal descent into hell, with you, like Petey Wheatstraw before you, married to the Devil’s own daughter!
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Ruben Chandler     Feb 3, 2019

GD James...........this is fuckin hilarious
WellRead Ed     Feb 8, 2019

If a single mother that's 2 months behind on the rent claims that you're the best sex she's ever had, run fast, run far. No Beejer is worth a lifetime of poverty while raising someone else's kids.
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