VIEW ALL 200MOTELS' BLOG ENTRIES
“You’re a loser!” “Why don’t you pull yourself up by your bootstraps?” “You’re weird! You don’t smile enough. That’s why you can’t keep a job, with that face!” “You drank all the vodka yesterday. That’s why you couldn’t do the laundry.” “Why can’t you do what I tell you?” “You smoke so much, you’re going to ruin your health!”
Geez, no wonder I smoke so much! Life is tough enough right now, with jobs drying up because of Bush’s brilliant economy and thousands of people being dumped onto the labor force, competing for the meager crumbs of work that are left, but I also have to deal with a hostile home environment as well.
“Plus ça change, plus c’est la meme chose.” My life with women resembles nothing so much as an old W.C. Fields movie, wherein he is hounded and terrorized to the brink of insanity by lunatic, loudmouth women, spoiled kids and biting dogs. I managed to avoid ratty children demanding $200 sneakers and iPhones. Happily, no woman ever considered me a decent sucker for a paternity scam, as happened numerous times to my father and uncle. I’m just too nasty. But, unfortunately, I am ensnarled by what is laughingly referred to as “the weaker sex.”
My mother once advised me, “Women feel overpowered by men, so they respond with the one weapon left to them, language.” Amen to that! The only problem is that the women’s liberation movement, instead of empowering them toward equality and self-reliance, has just devolved into a kind of institutional nagging marathon. It’s just old wine in new bottles.
Here’s an example: a European female blogger who is enormously popular over there has just published a book entitled “How To Live With A Twat,” the “twat” being her boyfriend, naturally. The book is so well regarded that a European bureaucrat in charge of promoting The New Europe chose to honor its launching party with her presence.
Now ask yourself this question: if I published a book called “My Girlfriend is a Cunt,” do you think a member of government would come around to congratulate me, or would I be honored with chanting demonstrations and book burnings?
Anyway, if she hates the guy so much, how come she compares him with that defining aspect of her own physiognomy? The actual equivalent of this is if I were to call my book “My Girlfriend is a Dick.” This misnaming of her book only serves to illuminate the central complaint of men, that women are dizzy.
Who am I to argue with no less an authority than Chairman Mao, who philosophized that “women hold up half the sky”. Fine, only why can’t they hold up their half in a more stoic, silent manner so that our half can watch the game?
Most men are intimidated into silence, at first because of the threat of no more sex, and then later because all the assets are in her name. Fortunately, I have had sex with my girlfriend so much over the years that it has now become meaningless and I don’t have any assets, so what have I got left to use? Let me be the spokesman for all the men who have been cowed into silence.
This is not to say that I don’t support Hillary Clinton. She seems sensible enough. Angela Merkel hasn’t destroyed Germany. Yet. And Hillary’s opponents are not that manly anyway. In fact, Giuliani loves wearing dresses.
The only problem is, what if Clinton turns out to be a confused mess like Israel’s only female prime minister, the beloved Golda Meir, who left that country vulnerable to an unsuspected sneak attack in 1973 that cost the lives of thousands of Israeli soldiers; or Indira Gandhi, who was finally assassinated by her own Sikh bodyguards?
Or what about France’s attempt at a female prime minister, Edith Cresson, who was sacked immediately after confiding to a journalist that 25% of British males were homosexual? All people entertain these kinds of outrageous notions, but it takes a particularly female mentality to share them with a working journalist. The new French president, Sarkozy, just scored a big win over his opponent, who happened to be female.
What is remarkable, however, is the total lack of interest in any prospective female leadership in Britain, a country that not too long ago suffered eight years of Margaret Thatcher’s hectoring, this in a country where the men are no slouches at tedious moralizing themselves. If you think about it, England has had exactly four queens, one of whom inflicted a monstrous sexual inhibition that still bears her name on the world; and another whose most notable achievement was to execute her own cousin and the mother to her successor.
When I was totally hormone-driven I put up with a lot from women. Now, less so. I have found that the best way to drive them nuts is to tell them a joke. They mostly have no sense of humor whatever, especially about themselves. Another way to drive them bonkers is to say these four little words: “Mind your own business.” That is sure to get the fur flying.
But just be careful. After hundreds and thousands of years of complaining about violence against women, they are striking back in increasingly gruesome ways: the woman who strangled her sleeping husband, who had just bought her a new house in Long Island, and then tearfully cried to the jury that he had abused her, moving that body to refuse to indict her; or the woman who beat another woman to death with a club for telling her “black women don’t have any money” (she says), and now her attorney is claiming that the cops coerced the confession out of her.
Anyway, even if the victim did say that, should Condoleeza Rice have suffered a similar fate for telling the jewelry shop assistant “I have money and you don’t.”
They look cute, but so do female wolverines.
I believe that the way to counter the almost-complete female domination of society has to evolve into the political arena, and that’s why I am starting a movement called “SHUT THE %$#@ UP!”
Check it out! www.200motels.net
Tags:
None
© All rights reserved.
Posted on 11/28/2007
(
Permanent Link
)
Read
331 Times
Send to Friend
