Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Raised by Wolves (Girls Can't Resist)

Nearly a year and a half ago Latigo Flint wrote the definitive work on the subject of how to get women by leveraging the fact that you were raised by wolves.

Sunday's entry (and a shrewd catch by an old friend named Slarrow) raised a few questions that hopefully this can clear up. Now some people, assholes mostly, might say, "Hey, that lazy bastard is foisting a rerun on us--and that's two wolf posts in row." But they certainly won't say it Latigo Flint's face, because life is short enough already.

From the archives - March 9, 2005:


Raised by Wolves (Girls Can't Resist)

Good evening. It's ridiculously easy to get girls if you were raised by wolves--provided you look and act reasonably normal now. So if you're the only one in your extended circle of friends who was raised by wolves and you don't have girls lining up to date you, then you're doing something wrong, and you should listen to what Latigo Flint has to say.

First, it's important that everyone knows you were raised by wolves. Your love life cannot benefit if girls aren't aware of it. There are certain to be old newspaper articles that tell of your discovery, running wild with the pack, greasy and naked and free. Editors love human-interest stories about children raised by wolves--they can't get enough of them. In fact, sometimes editors will abandon their own children in the hopes they'll be adopted by a passing wolf pack, giving them the scoop. Anyway, find and digitize these clippings and get them on this internet thingy right away. Try to get access to the video news archives and upload them or something. Whatever you do, just make sure it's not obvious that you're the one circulating all this material.

Second: For heaven's sake, don't go around talking about it all the time. Nothing turns girls off faster than a guy raised by wolves who won't ever shut up about it. The rule should be you never initiate a conversation about being raised by wolves, and you enter into such discussions reluctantly--as if it's difficult for you to speak of it, but seeing as you really, really trust the people you're with, (and dern it, some of them need to be girls, understand?!) you're willing to open up and bare your soul a bit.

Now, this doesn't mean that you shouldn't drop subtle hints every once in a while about the stark duality that runs through the very fiber of your being--that juxtaposition of two very different worlds that you must always reconcile. The point is you bear this burden alone, silently like a wounded beast...

Ahhhhhhh yes, you understand now--the girls must see that it's the wolf in you that prevents cheap and casual discussion about your mysterious past, and they'll feel very honored if you're able to open up to them. (And all the hot loving you care to sample should quite promptly follow.)

An example of a good subtle hint would be if you're eating dinner with a group of people on an outdoor patio or a window booth with a view of the full moon. At some point your burning eyes would lock onto its brilliance. Fork hand dangles in mid-air, jaws muscles clench. Turmoil! Without being overt, they must sense your inner turmoil. Then it's gone. It passed. You retained control. Your eyes lower, a flicker of guilt. You resume eating.

"Oh god, that's right. You're the one who-"
One hand will go to pretty lips, the other will rest on your arm. Your lean muscles should abruptly tighten beneath her touch, then slowly relax. (This will be the hottest girl at the table if you've been doing everything right, as I've described above.)
"Are you okay?" She'll softly inquire. You wait a moment before answering.
"It's nothing." Your voice should be low and emotional, husky even. Continue eating. Count to ten then make eye contact.
"Thank you though." This should be a near whisper.

Come on, I don't have to tell you this is gold. You may have been raised by wolves, but you're certainly not stupid. So go now, reap the sexual benefits of your lupine upbringing. No need to thank Latigo Flint, I know you'll make me proud.

(Make sure you remember your Wolf Mother's name. It can be a real deal closer if you bungle something on the way to the girl's house and she's hesitating about inviting you in. Just lean against the car and start speaking quietly about your den family. Shewa Kai Laif-Laif is a pretty common name for female wolves. It translates to Agile Slayer of Rabbits. Kanagrif Shree-Naip isn't bad either. I think it means Tundra Queen.)


At 1:30 AM, Blogger 12 Crumble Ave said...

Comment from the archives: March 9th 2005

Hey Latigo great post as always. Was just reading on the news how the war in Iraq will be over in a few months which is great and more reason to take a lovely lady out for a moonlit dinner. Plus theres that new Star Wars film coming out soon and I'm sure she'll love that!

I've been practicing my inner turmoil in the mirror so wish me luck!

- Toledo

At 2:32 AM, Blogger Helga von porno said...

I feel so foolish, I was completely taken in by this, and felt amazed at how my behaviour was so obvious and typical that it could be manipulated, with all that moon stuff for example. Then towards the end I suddenly thought *how many of Latigo flints blog readers have, in all probability, actually been raised by wolves?* Then I laughed til I cried.

At 5:08 AM, Blogger The Heir said...

Latigo, I salute you!
I shall put your golden words of wisdom into action at once.

At 9:00 AM, Blogger jali said...


(tear running from eye)

What a masterpiece! Male bullshit at it's finest. I love it!

At 12:25 PM, Blogger randommoments said...

>gasp< I'm with helga. I feel duped. And to think all this time I've been so accepting of my boyfriend's behavior - growling at me, eating his steak and then baring his teeth and eating mine, the sexual positions - all because of his wolf pack past.


At 1:52 PM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Damn, I'm glad you reposted this, Latigo. I think I may have missed this gem the first time.

At 1:56 PM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

I enjoyed that previous wolf story too. You never have to feel bad about consecutive wolf story posts. Not you, LF.

At 5:40 PM, Blogger Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

In Scotland, wolves died out years ago, their numbers ravaged by roving bands of feral haggis (haggus non domesticus).

My own heart was broken by a half-wild "haggis boy" (another victim of Thatcher's Britain) who couldn't pass a hill without running round it cartoonishly (but still in a savage, intoxicating way), and who sweated, almost audibly, when passing a tree under which he just KNEW there would be truffles to snuffle, if only people weren't already staring at his cocking a leg to dry-urinate on it.

Gentle sigh. The first cut is the deepest. I shall never forget you, Murdo.

At 12:44 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

Well done Toledo. Very, very well done.

I don't laugh any more these days Helga Von Porno. You see, I have this eerie feeling that if I start, I won't ever stop--and then the men in the white coats will come for me--and if they're laughing, it won't be for the same reasons.

I wish you all the best young Heir.

It's all we have Jali. Would you really be so cruel as to take it from us?

We're all with Helga, Randommoments, but often for different reasons. I'm very sorry you've been shown a facade, but it's what we men do best you know.

Thank you LBB. They say there aren't any wolves in Los Angeles. But they're wrong. They're so very, very wrong. And severed tendons and savagery is the prize such foolishness buys.

Yeah Sam... baby I know.


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