Why I am an Anti-Feminist, Part 12:

«Evening Greetings»

I’ve got a pre-ramble for you today. Don’t worry; I’ll get back to the usual cruel and unusual rambling before long.

This will be my last post for the year. I’m taking a break from writing, rambling, raving and ranting in order to celebrate Christmas and ring in the new year with all the moderately priced champagne, colossally caffeinated beverages and beard-harvested mushrooms a growing boy could ever need.

I will be back early in January, with the threat of a few new book-releases on the horizon and an ever-expanding library of rambling diatribes designed to stoke the fires of hell itself.

I hope you will enjoy yourselves over the holiday clusterfuck… Whatever happens next year, it can not possibly be worse than what happened this year, surely? Or should I not tempt the Gods, perhaps? Best to keep my mouth shut, my eyes on the ground and my beard flapping in the wind.

Merry everything, and a happy new current year!

There is a very distinct difference in received empathy where men and women are concerned. Men receive far less empathy in society and by society than women do. This ought to be self-evident by quite a few things, though the two things that are of most importance to me personally are as victims of violence, be that intimate partner violence or random acts of violence, and suicide. These two topics are quite important to me due to personal experiences, which I will not delve into here. May be a selfish reason for these topics being so important to me, but we are all – in one way or other – driven by our own experiences. I think it is safe to say that we are products of our experiences in life, for good or for bad and in one way or another.

Men experience more violence than woman. Far more, in fact.

And men commit suicide far more than women.

Yet, what we – as a society – care about, is ending violence towards women.

What we – as a society – care about, is that women attempt suicide more than men.

Not that men are successful in their suicides.

Not that men kill themselves.


We care that women fail at suicide-attempts, even going so far as to wonder if experienced sexism is to blame for an increase in female suicide-attempts. ( https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-39210463 ) Amazing, I think.

Consider this, when it comes to suicide attempts: how many of the registered suicide-attempts are repeat “offenders”? How many of the registered suicide-attempts are self-harm registered as suicide-attempts?

See, back in my teens, I did quite a lot of self-harming. This of course brought me into the folds and tender headlock of psychiatry, wherein they attempted to label my self-harm as suicide attempts. Which I refused to let them do, as I had no wish to have it written down that I attempted suicide when I did not attempt suicide. Obviously. Though this is an anecdotal experience, I doubt that I am the only one whose self-harm – serious as self-harm may very well be – was registered as a suicide-attempt.

Lastly: how many of these suicide-attempts are a cry for help, not a genuine suicide-attempt?

It should of course go without saying that I absolutely believe cases of self-harm and cries for help shall be taken seriously; that those who do it should be given consideration and help. I am not trying to downplay any suffering or mental health issues which may very well be very, very real and very, very destructive.

I do, however, find it really odd that so many men kill themselves and that this is considered less of a problem than women failing to kill themselves; that the real deaths of men by their own hands are given less consideration and less attention than women attempting – and failing – to kill themselves.

There is a crisis – worldwide – of men killing themselves, yet we hear precious little about it and we care even less about it than we hear about it. This is very odd in a society in which the claim is that men, not women, are the ones who are cared for and cared about, given all manner of privilege and protection.

I believe it would be safe to state that the rates at which men kill themselves point to certain experiences in life and in society for men which ought to warrant investigation as well as concern. Investigation and concern that is not painted, tainted and perverted to obscenity by feminist ideologues who claim to do good but who, inevitably, fall back on their tried and true formula of blaming men for their own ills. “It is toxic masculinity that makes men kill themselves, it is traditional masculinity, it is the ideology of masculinity…” and on, and on and on.

Frighteningly often, when we do hear about it, it is presented through feminist goggles, googles, and problem-glasses, framing it within the confines of their ideology. “Toxic Masculinity (trademarked)” seems to be a relatively new term within their vocabulary. Used to be they used the term “hegemonic masculinity”.

I have not heard the term “hegemonic masculinity” for some time.

It does seem to have been removed and replaced with “toxic masculinity”, for some reason.

This replacement of terms seem to happen ever so often within their scatterbrained marvel-ideology. I assume one term has been spent, debunked and used up and so a new one must take its place, lest they prove themselves to be the frauds, hacks, con-artists and shams that they are. Though, admittedly, I am more or less thinking aloud now.

As long as boys, men, masculinity can be blamed, the feminist hive-mind can rinse their hands of blood and make the claim that they care about men as well… that they do, in fact, advocate for men as well as women and so there is no need for a men’s movement, thank you very much… for feminism has that covered. Despite feminism being for women. Just a damned shame that they see no qualms in “victim-blaming” when it is a man that is a victim of something, then.

For make no bloody mistake about it – pointing to masculinity itself and claiming that this is the reason for men’s higher rates of suicide and men’s higher rates of experienced violence is victim-blaming. It is pointing at something that is a natural part of men – their masculinity – and telling them that this is the reason for their pain.

They use the term “toxic masculinity” to try and divert the attention away from the fact of the matter. The fact of the matter being that they blame masculinity, whether referred to as “toxic” or “hegemonic” or whatever newly found star-spangled terminology they can conjure forth.

It is still masculinity at fault. “Toxic masculinity” is such a nebulous, swirling, fluid, gaseous and strange term that it can mean any display of masculine behaviour, as long as some feminist or other dislikes it.

Try using the term “toxic femininity” for a few days, and see how many women – feminist or no – that take offence to it. And rightly so. I have even seen feminists claim that women who behave in toxic ways display toxic masculinity, not toxic femininity.

This is interesting, to say the least.

So: women who behave badly display traits of toxic masculinity, not traits of toxic femininity. Men who behave badly do also display toxic masculinity.

There is no toxic femininity, in other words.

When women behave badly, it is still men who are at fault, still masculinity that is to blame.

…But it is not about hating men, you guys, honest.

To be clear: I object to both the terms “toxic masculinity” and “toxic femininity”, on the grounds that people can be toxic, abusive, ugly and destructive no matter their sex. Putting “toxic” in front of either femininity or masculinity does nothing but present an inherently negative attitude to either.

Also of interest: proposing, as the feminist hive-mind do, that everything ought to be gender neutral seems fairly deceitful when feminism constantly gender terms and words, labelling everything bad masculine and everything positive feminine. Gender-neutral thus translates into female-centric. That is to say: men bad, women good. There is only one sex and one gender when speaking on sex and gender. And that gender is female. Because of course it is. Despite there being seven billion genders, or something like that. Who even keeps count any more except those who wish to be seen as special and important, who have no special sets of skills and so chose something that sounds special and precious, despite being nothing but an absurd display of superficiality?

Both men and women have a shadow-side. Of this I am certain. It is a human thing, not a gender-thing, not a sex-thing, not a masculine thing and not a feminine thing. Though its presentation and its behaviour may be different depending on ones sex, it boils down to destructive, selfish, narcissistic, violent, etc., behaviour. Something which ought not to be celebrated.

Feminism tend to celebrate the shadow side of femininity, the feminine shadow, as something good and decent and pure… something that now finally has its time and wrinkly dime for being suppressed and oppressed by the patriarchy for so long… and so it is to be let loose, leaving them free to engage in behaviour that would be vilified and demonized were it men doing it, but which is celebrated as strength and virtue and what-not when it is women doing it. Scoffing at the notion of men having any problems at all, for example, making it so that women – and only women – and their perceived problems shall be heard and taken seriously within our culture is one such thing; celebrated and acknowledged despite being an obscene display of egotism.

Narcissism, egotism, selfishness and navel-gazing is celebrated as a virtue, if it comes from the cunt-fused smile of an ovary-acting feminist woman.

I prefer to refer to this type of behaviour as “Full Frontal Rectal Examination Syndrome”.

Meanwhile, men’s rights activists and advocates who dare defy the norm and point to quite a few ways, places, things and various doo-dads, doo-hickeys and so and such within society where men experience problems, suffer quite genuine discrimination, hardships, issues, problems, and so and such are painted as foul misogynists. “Misogynist” being another word that has been destroyed through its overuse. It means nothing any more.

The reason for MRA’s being labelled misogynists is, amongst other things, that we do not put women up front and centre, on a pedestal, as it were. For that is, apparently, where women belong, even when the sexes are to be treated equally. Add to this a bucket of lies, shit and filth claiming that we blame women for all our problems, for instance – which is not the least bit true. There is a tendency to oppose feminism. This is true. But opposing feminism does not equal opposing women. For feminism does not equal women, despite what feminism claims. Believe it or not.

This doo-hickey of theirs makes no sense.

Once seen, it can never be unseen. Though seeing it involves peeling 50-odd years worth of lies, propaganda and bullshit from ones red-rimmed eyes. A difficult task, without a doubt. For it is a task that greatly alienates one from the broader society; a task that will label one an outcast, a heretic and an outlaw, that will turn friends and family against one. It means going completely against the grain, against the flow, against the currents of society.

Social suicide is what it is.

The proverbial Red Pill is a terribly bitter pill to swallow, and the side-effects of said pill are dangerous. Once labelled an outlaw, one is not protected by the law. By which I mean mob-law. The regular social norms no longer apply, and one can wave goodbye to civility and understanding, compassion and basic human decency. Hell has no fury like a feminist scorned. And the roots of feminism dig deep, feeding on gynocentrism that flows like a current beneath the streets of our civilization, filled and re-filled and maintained by the blood, sweat and tears of men.

I, and I suppose most MRA’s (at least that is my experience), see no problems with women and the problems they face being taken seriously and given due consideration. For, in being different, men and women face different challenges. To claim that neither experience any difficulties or problems related to their sex is dishonest at best.

The problem and issue arise when women, and only women, and their problems are given consideration. Far above and beyond what would be considered due consideration. And this to the detriment of men, the minimizing of men’s issues and downright refusal to acknowledge that men face any real problems in society. Unless those problems can be presented as being created and maintained by something to do with men – masculinity, the nefarious, vapour-like patriarchy, and other such nonsense.

The problem and issue arise when feminism, and only feminism, are allowed to speak on the topic. For both men and women. As though they and their movement are the only movement, the only voice, the only what-ever to speak on the problems facing men and women both, amplifying the problems women face to the point of absurdity and erasing the problems men face to the point of a farce, giving leeway to ridicule and smear men’s rights activists and advocates as though this is fair treatment of this loosely knit group of rebels, vagabonds and outcasts.

The problem and issue arise when the force supposedly there to create “equality” between the sexes push and push and push for, and receive, special privileges and protection for women. Gender quotas in universities are a prime example of this. Still there for women to an overwhelming degree, despite women being in the majority in higher education. Odd and peculiar, that. One should believe that women being the majority would give rise to a certain push to get more men into higher education.

Not so, though – no, no, no.

You see – there may be more women in higher education, but there are more men in certain fields of higher education, and so the push must be there to get more women into those fields of education. For more men than women must be proof of gender discrimination, whereas more women than men is proof of gender equality. Makes perfect sense, of course, if one is blind and deaf from birth, lacking in cognitive abilities and constantly trapped in the bathroom with a case of chronic diarrhoea of the reason.

Also known as feminism.

Women choose the wrong type of education according to feminism, which also believe that women should choose what they want to do as long as they choose what feminism wants them to choose. Which is, incidentally, not what feminism prefers them to choose. But, no mind, little matter. What matters is for them to have something to complain about so that they are still considered relevant in this day and age of chronic Honk.

And a merry honk fucking honk to you too and #MeToo.

So women major in gender studies to become feminist activists that then bitch, moan and complain that there are too few women in STEM fields. This despite them studying for a pointless and useless degree that will do nothing but lull them into propaganda-like dream-states within the walls and fractured confines of their universities, in which they will do nothing but alienate men even more from higher education and complain that women are alienated from higher education.

Honk bloody honk.

More men than women in certain fields must therefore mean that men conspire to keep women out of these fields. Giving way to the age-old shaming of the male, shaming him so that he shall step down, open the doors, lay his coat in the puddle and do all in his power so that women shall feel safe in these terribly masculine spaces.

For one can not lift women up without simultaneously pushing men down. Which is, oddly enough, what feminism believe all men do to all women. Also, does this mean feminists consider men superior to women? It certainly does not put men and women on a level playing-field, that much is certain.

If a feminist claims you to do something, it is something they themselves are guilty of doing. Their way of elevating women is to push men down. Thus, elevating men must necessarily mean pushing women down. To their eyes, and in their logic. If they create something for women, they keep men out. If MRA’s create a conference for men, for example, that must therefore mean that they keep women out. Despite all evidence to the contrary. The International Conference for Men’s Issues of 2019 is a good example of this, as the Woke Twitterati was all up in arms about this, even complaining that these foul MRA’s had women do their work for them, since women were the ones behind that particular conference.

Imagine treating women as equals, believing them absolutely capable of hosting a conference… oh, the horror! Women are not suited for that kind of work; that is the province of men. One would believe it to be celebrated by the frantic forces of feminism. Alas, no. As long as it is not female-centric and male-bashing, it is bad. No matter if it is men or women behind it.

Now, keeping men out is quite alright. Keeping women out is not. Women’s only spaces is quite alright. Men’s only spaces is sexist and misogynist. For the only thing men think about is women and keeping women out and down, according to feminism. Which is interesting, as this proves how they view men and how they talk about men and how they treat men. In painting this picture in their minds and in their philosophy of men as these terrible, beastly, oppressive and violent creatures, they can justify just about anything they do in “response” to these terrible, beastly, oppressive and violent acts of men being men as the feminists envision men being men to be. Which is not exactly how men are, but little mind, no matter.

And there come the empathy-gap.

The feminist view of men as a group is that of a terrible group, ripe with sexism and misogyny and rape and violence and all manner of cruel and unusual wickedness. Apparently, there is no problem in stating this outright as fact-without-a-doubt. Masculinity itself is a disease that must be tackled, dismantled, broken down and removed so that men can be more like women. Men are defective women, and boys are defective girls. Apparently, and according to their whims and bingo-wings.

Say the same thing about women as a group, and there will be no limits to the hate and scorn and ridicule and shame and smears and trials and tribulations one must wade through afterwards. And that in a society that simply hates women ever so much, and adores men ever so much. It makes no sense whatsoever. Except when viewed through the lenses of gynocentrism, which we are so enthralled with. Women are to be protected and treated with compassion. Men need not apply.

Now, I will freely and readily admit that I believe our societies do need more compassion… more neighbourly love, if you will. We are caught in the throes of narcissism and selfishness. More and more for every passing day, it seems, driven by the awesome might and influence and fury of social media-posturing and holier-than-thou sentiments.

Presenting pictures of compassion that is little more then self-aggrandizing displays of hollow and vacuous virtue, doing absolutely nothing but painting a phoney picture of oneself as a being of immaculate compassion and virtue, with egotism and narcissism hidden deep within the folds, thinly veiled by the clouds of self-sniffed farts.

What we do not need is more compassion to women and only women. Which is what we are driven towards, neglecting boys and men in the process.

Boys and men could absolutely do with more compassion, more understanding, more empathy for our plight than we are currently receiving. This is not to say, obviously, that I believe that our societies should drop everything else and care only for the plight of boys and men.

That would be ridiculous.

And quite contrary to anything I wish for.

I would, however, wish there would be an understanding that constantly bombarding boys and men with messages of our inherent wickedness, our cruelty and our malice, our moral and emotional deficiencies and so-and-such and on and on is nothing but cruelty. Cruelty wrapped in lies mimicking compassion and concern, (we must help men re-examine and dismantle their masculinities so that they shall be complete human beings) but cruelty nonetheless.

I would wish for a world in which boys and men and our struggles are granted more consideration than a giggle in contempt from high-ranking yet brain-dead politicians… that it would be given actual understanding and compassion, proper empathy… that it would be given solutions not dripping with feminist sick, proclaiming masculinity to be the cause of all our problems, as well as the cause of all the problems the world has ever seen – up to and including bad acts and deeds done by women.

Particularly so when masculinity is also the solution to all the woes and worries of the world. Both God and the Devil, given the responsibility for ruining society as well as the responsibility to fix it. For we can do nothing but wrong whilst simultaneously being expected to do nothing but absolute right.

To feminism – and to our societies overall – there is nothing to men but absolute good or absolute bad. The picture given us of men, in general, is nothing but a figment of fantasy. Stray but a little from the accepted path, and all is lost and forgotten… all achievements, all merits, all goodness and kindness and empathy you have proven time and again is swept away in an instant the moment you utter one thing – one thing – that may be construed, by the frail forces of fragile and frantic feminism, to be wrong-think, wrong-speak, wrong-this-that-or-the-other.

Men have to be absolute good, akin to godliness. It is an absolutely impossible standard of behaviour and conduct, enforced not by masculinity, but by the dogma of feminism and the gynocentric nature of humanity, where women must be protected from absolutely everything. Up to and including differences of opinion. For merely disagreeing with a feminist woman on one thing and one thing only is enough to label one a misogynist, a patriarchal oppressor, and all else there is to label one man as that is bad, wicked, cruel, tricksy and false. As is lending compliments to women on their appearance. As well as not lending compliments to women on their appearance, for that matter.

The black and white thinking on display is obvious; a man complimenting a woman on her appearance can not possibly mean anything but him not seeing anything in her but her appearance. A man’s thoughts on the matter means little to nothing.

Merely a light-hearted joke at the expense of women in general is considered strictly verboten; a proof of society and its inherent hostility towards women in general.

Despite jokes made at the expense of men being considered quite alright.

Despite calls for violence and death to all men being considered A-OK – made for prime-time television, in fact.

Despite painting boys, men and masculinity as defective, destructive, dangerous and violent being par for the course in the current cultural zeitgeist.

And so I wonder: if one joke at the expense of women in general is enough proof that our societies just hate women… what then would this constant belittlement of men prove? What would the constant hostility towards masculinity prove? What would the constant, the ongoing de-humanising of boys and men prove? What would the notion that there is something wrong with men due to them being men prove?

If applying the same logic, it would prove without a doubt that our societies simply does not care much for men, does not show any empathy toward men, does not have compassion for men. That our societies, in fact, adore women and, if not downright hate men, have very little care, compassion, empathy, understanding, love, honour, respect for men on the basis of their humanity. Men are not considered human beings, as much as we are considered human-doings. If we are to be celebrated, it is for something we do. Not for our humanity as-is. Empathy is non-existent. Though, of course, celebrating men for what we do is also wrong and something else to stroke the full fury of feminism with. For, did you not know that also women do things and so this must be celebrated. Not what men do.

And that is it for this ramble. Join me next year for more of my cruel and unusual rambling, lest my brain be filled with mulch and my pants filled with tiny rats and other such things, leading to only one possible conclusion in all that is, was and ever shall be: Epstein did not kill himself.

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 14.12.2019

Lonely Trainstation Blues – Poetry for the Lost Boys, Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZB6K2JX
Lonely Trainstation Blues – Poetry for the Lost Boys, Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1692495518

Howling at a Slutwalk Moon, a collection of previous blog posts:
Vol 1 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/107571074X
Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
Vol 1 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075717094
Vol 2 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075723078

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It is Getting Increasingly More Difficult to Not give a Fuck:

«Afternoon Greetings»

It is getting increasingly more difficult to not give a fuck.

The Circus is back in town again.
The wide-eyed clowns are drooling again.
The thrice-fisted theatre is back at it again.
The shadow-gallery strokes its lack of cock,
then rubs its paramilitary cunt
rough and raw and ready-red,
complaining about an impotent
maladjusted male malcontent.

It is getting increasingly more difficult to not give a fuck.

The Circus is back on form again.
The wide-eyed penitents are singing songs again.
Thrice-lamented eerie tunes that lost their rhyme,
that lost their rhythm and their reason,
in raw and rough ready-read
illiberal indoctrination,
chronic cerebral constipation:
so-called malicious masculine omnipotence.

It is getting increasingly more difficult to not give a fuck.

The temperature is rising again.
The hot-headed heat-seekers seeking heat again.
Thrice-cursed and shellshocked from safe-shelter-zones
that sang in rhythm and in blues
two-stepped grim-faced tango-hues;
that spoke as messengers divine,
smote down those who drew a line
in the sand, who showed they had a spine.

It is getting increasingly more difficult to not give a fuck.

The bayonets are rustling in the leaves again,
the circus-tent burning in the streets again,
Thrice-hung, drawn and quartered in the sheets again.
Tranquil telepathy spread from the podium;
dyed danger-hair whose longing for odium
saw neither here nor there an end
to anything but society and ruptured sanity;
to start fresh and new this age of vanity.

It is getting increasingly more difficult to not give a fuck.

The censors are back in tune again.
The institute for higher morality shaking in their boots again,
thrice-unfucked morality-policing busy beaver-bees again,
that stepped out of time, then out of line.
Fourth Reich rising dimwittedly from the heatwave;
free speech in dire need of a close-knit shave:
to celebrate diversity and one-pack liberty
must we then throat-fuck free speech as a necessity.

It is getting increasingly more difficult to not give a fuck.

The eunuchs sing of love again.
The old-gloom snake-oil-schools back to caning again,
thrice-well-wished pedagogues knitting blindfolds again,
to allow for free-hand fondling of tranquillised kids.
Smarmy teachers propose unilateral castration,
blind with penis-envy or brain-fucked into devastation.
Boys with glitter-eyes whisper free-form castration-blues,
damaged by institutionalized flag-pole emasculation.

It is getting increasingly more difficult to not give a fuck.

The inquisition is back at it again.
The inquisitive minds seek incessant incestuous notes again,
thrice-fondled tight-arsed censorship again,
to sing and speak in babbled monochrome plague-verse.
Dogwhistle whispers mark high-street hysteria;
sussuration of surveillance run through academia,
murmured watching of the populace in social media,
drifting ever so slowly into intellectual euthanasia.

It is getting increasingly more difficult to not give a fuck.

The actors are back in town again,
the acted-upon are in their webs again,
thrice-bejewelled and forgotten in the night again,
token band-aid for the broken boys and men
whose long lingering grey-cloud despair left them hopeless,
whose pre-approved time-stamp patterns left them homeless,
whose hounded backs were caressed by globalist whips,
whose suffering were then reduced to political quips.

It is getting increasingly more difficult to not give a fuck.

The Psy-War is back in town again,
the opium-wars back in bloom again,
Thrice-removed, remodelled, yet the same again.
Thirsty multi-tentacled social justice rape-rage;
feigned political correctness, virtue, inclusivity, morality
is opium for the people by virtue of profane hypocrisy;
morally bankrupt castrated Marxist hay-fever songs
designed in nihilist postmodern utopia-bongs.

It is getting increasingly more difficult to not give a fuck.

The Opiate dreams back in form again,
the opined heroines heroin-dance in smouldered ruin again,
Thrice-overdosed and equal-opportunity-ravaged again.
Ten young boys with child-like drag-queen dreams;
society and civilization now reduced to edgy memes.
A pock-marked trans-kid, vegan-cat, imbecilic present;
a skull-fucked, brain-slapped, haemorrhaging slow descent
into catatonia and the high heavens of prolonged dementia.

It is getting increasingly more difficult to give a fuck.

  • Moiret Allegiere, 11.12.2019
  • Please like, share and subscribe

Lonely Trainstation Blues – Poetry for the Lost Boys, Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZB6K2JX
Lonely Trainstation Blues – Poetry for the Lost Boys, Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1692495518

Howling at a Slutwalk Moon, a collection of previous blog posts:
Vol 1 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/107571074X
Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
Vol 1 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075717094
Vol 2 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075723078

Other links:
Redbubble shop: https://www.redbubble.com/people/Moiret/shop
Blog: https://moiretallegiere.wordpress.com/
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Why I am an Anti-feminist, part 11

«Mid-day Greetings»

One of my most favourite memes of all time is one in which there is a picture of a Barbie doll. Above the picture of the Barbie doll are the words “This is Barbie”, followed by the usual inane ramblings from feminism about the negative body-image, the stereotypical whatever and what-not and the negative effect this has on girls… how terrible and oppressive and so and such (and every other buzzword) it is. Next to the image of the Barbie doll is a picture of a He-man action figure. Above that picture, the words read only “this is He-man”.

I don’t believe there is any reason for me to explain what this means, though for the unenlightened ones, I may well do so.

He-man is a bloody hulk; a searing mass of muscle and flesh and brawn. An unreachable body for all but the most roided up of men.

And Barbie is a slim woman.

Both of them also happen to be dolls. Toys meant to amuse children. Not that this matters much, of course. Children do not exist to be amused and to play, they exist to be imprinted with an agenda, to be moulded into beautiful pawns of the gender-neutral purple penguin future. I am not all that familiar with the He-man series or its universe, being a child of the glorious animation of the nineties instead; Animaniacs, Tiny Toons, Freakazoid, Batman the Animated Series, etc.

I am, however, aware enough of the He-man universe to know two things:

1: Skeletor is the spitting image of Joe Biden. There is an uncanny resemblance.

2: He-man has not had as many careers as Barbie has, given that she has been granted almost every possible profession in the world – even McDonald’s employee.

Both the “low-status” and “high-status” professions have been granted her, it seems, bottled and sold to these poor impressionable girls who are ever so oppressed by their dolls and their career-prospects.

Now, I may very well be an absolutely entitled man-splaining moron, but it seems to me that selling the idea of women being able to hold every profession under the sun would be very much welcomed by the feminist platoons. And it probably is. As long as the woman is not a slim woman with an idealized body-type that is unavailable to all but a plastic doll. Which she, as a matter of fact, is.

A plastic doll.

A doll made from plastic.

Not a living, breathing human being with organs and emotions and other such pesky annoyances.

She is, in fact, a plastic doll.

Interesting to note is also that her male counterpart, Ken, functions as little more than arm-candy for Barbie. A status-object which cements her as not only professionally successful, but also socially successful. Ken also just so happen to be completely and utterly neutered, fantastically emasculated, devoid of ham as well as eggs, as it were. Which makes me wonder how in the world Barbie ever managed to get pregnant by him… There is a pregnant Barbie doll, for those of you who are uninitiated. And it is absolutely marvellous. And I say this with sincerity – it is a fantastic toy, all things considered. Don’t “at” me, brah.

Come to think of it: the entirety of the Barbie universe may very well represent the grandest and most fantastic feminist utopia – the ultimate wet dream of the feminist hive-mind; a world in which women dominate every profession, men are castrated at birth, thus serving no purpose but to be yet another success-object for Barbie and her friends – an object upon which the women then may release all their scorn, anger and malcontent when needed, who obligingly crawls back into his cage when the women are done with whatever he is needed to do at the moment… after all, when all the lids are screwed open and the living-room remodelled, what use could he – or any man, for that matter – possibly have?

Due to the emasculated nature of Ken, I can not possibly reach any other conclusion than this: the Barbie universe is a world in which babies are conceived through the use of synthetic sperm, aided by doctor Barbie herself. As such, the Barbie-verse has successfully eliminated the archaic notion that heterosexual intercourse is necessary for procreation. Heterosexual intercourse obviously being – as one should be well aware by now – rape of the woman, no matter what.

In structuring their society in this manner, Barbie and her cohorts have succeeded in eliminating all rape. Excepting stare-rape, fart-rape and all that other stuff. But that is of small consequence within the confines of this universe. For Ken to be blinded at birth is next on the agenda, thus eliminating once and for all the pesky male gaze and any future possibilities of stare-rape.

Through this reasoning, we come to realize that Barbie, as opposed to the claims from feminism, actually represent the pinnacle of flaccid feminist fantasy. Surely it is a wonder that they do not celebrate her. Had she not been slim, they probably would have. Yet, they must have something to complain about, why not? Nothing is more important to feminism than perpetuating feminism, thus the need for something to whinge and whine about. Otherwise, they would have to consider themselves obsolete and find new careers, which for a professional feminist of no ill repute is a hard task indeed. Make no mistake – there is a lot of money and power involved in feminism. And they have to maintain that stream of money and flow of power by any means, any whims and any whines necessary.

The Barbie universe is a feminist utopian fantasy. An ideal society for all but those pesky non-feminists out there, for whom it is a dystopian fantasy. Of course, these people do not matter. For they are not flying the true colours of the searing sisterhood.

The society which Barbie and Ken inhabit is one in which women rule absolutely everything by virtue of nothing but their sex, sexual reproduction does not exist, boys are castrated at birth, growing up to be little more than man-servants… a society in which the lives of men is an existence of absolute slavery and servitude.

Beneath the fluffy pink exterior of the Barbie-verse lies a society of gloom and doom, of chains and whips, neglect and abuse.

See – I can do it too.

And I wrote this “thesis” after a night of poor sleep in the span of ten minutes. Overanalysing something to the point of absurdity is not difficult at all. Why should the feminist interpretation be more accepted? Personally, I think I make a compelling case. Particularly so if I could flesh it out some more… much like the body-positivity Barbie dolls have been fleshed out in recent years. They are highly irregular around the margins, one could say.

Anyway – the roided up action figures made for boys do not damage the self-esteem and body image of boys and young men. I know this to be true, because the feminist hive-mind have told me so. (Now, I tend to believe children in general to be pretty adept at separating fantasy from reality and toys depicting human beings from actual human beings. I have this radical notion that kids are far more clever and far more intelligent than we tend to believe. Also – I really like kids. They are great.)

You see, these figures for boys are representative of a “Male Power Fantasy”, and as such is negative for girls and women having to endure the terror of the male power fantasy, not for boys and certainly not for men. Unless, of course, the discussion can be whip-lashed about a bit to focus on toxic masculinity. Which is harmful to boys and men, but most of all to girls and women. Because nothing else matters but women and girls.

The only ones allowed to speak on what is damaging to boys and men, or what is good for them, are the followers of feminism.

Because nothing else matters.

And that is all that there is to that.

This is also something the feminist hive-mind have told me. And so it must be true.

Because nothing else matters.

Yet, if I were to make the claim – as I have just done, albeit in more words, that Barbie represents a “Female Power Fantasy”, I would have a feminist fatwa on my head. (Which I probably already have.) It would not be taken seriously. And, I believe, rightly so.

The polls are in, the votes are counted and the deaf, dumb and blind have had their say. Their say is simple: Barbie makes girls feel uncomfortable about their bodies, inadequate and so-and-such. And sop they must either be banned, or altered to fit in with their vision of the world. Because nothing else matters.

Implicit in this line of feminist reasoning, taking into consideration that He-man apparently does not create similar body-issues in boys, is the notion that girls are psychologically weaker than boys – that women are emotionally more fragile than men; that they are much more likely than are boys and men to give in to peer pressure and societal expectations of a negative nature. Girls are far more impressionable than boys. Except when they aren’t. Which is, as it always is, when, whatever, never-mind.

Boys are not affected by unrealistic body-whatevers, nor unreachable beauty-whatevers from their toys. Girls are. Therefore, we must not care about boys because they – as opposed to girls – are completely capable of separating toys from reality, fiction from non-fiction and their power fantasies from their actual day to day life. Excepting video-games, which have the awesome power of turning them into foul misogynists and other such naughty things. This makes no sense, since boys and men are misogynists by default for being moulded into hating women from the moment of birth… but, no mind, little matter. Feminism and its ideas do tend to get very confusing, self-contradictory and strange. Which may very well be by design, creating a simple intellectual “out” for every possible refutation for reasons of being designed in a confusing manner.

“This is true. And so is this other thing, which is the exact opposite to that other thing.” This is because feminism is not a monolith. Except when it is. Despite that it isn’t. All dependent on the whim and fury of the feminist in question, at the moment of questioning. Individualist when it suits them, collectivist when it suits them.

Feminism does not exactly leave us with a good picture of femininity, nor does it grant us any belief in the strength and resilience of girls and women when feminists carry on as they do, is what I’m trying to get at.

All the while, they give us an incredibly telling view into their opinions on the resilience and strength of boys and men when compared to that of girls and women, which is quite simple: Boys and Men can handle anything the world throws at them, Girls and Women can not. Evidenced by #killallmen being considered A-OK, whereas any criticism of a woman – particularly a feminist woman – is enough to render them slaves to PTSD for the rest of their lives, and is more than enough proof of the terrible misogyny of the internet as well as all men everywhere. Men are well suited to endure a constant negative message – up to and including calls for gendercide, even on national fucking television in Australia, as we have recently seen. Mona Eltahawy on the – I believe now infamous – Q&A feminist special.

They removed that segment from the internet after a while. Claiming it to be too “controversial”. I believe to engage in damage control on behalf of feminism. It would be far more damaging to the image and reputation of feminism to keep it up, and so it is removed. Clearing away evidence, as it were.

Or am I being too cynical and overly paranoid? I don’t know. One man’s paranoia is another man’s reason, after all.

One thing is certain, however: all this abuse, and more, men shall endure. For men are expected to endure it. Yet, women are not even suited to endure criticism. Nor do they ever need to. They are to be hoisted way above that. #believewomen does not only refer to nefarious claims of dubious sexual assaults. PTSD from Twitter. Post Twitter Stress Disorder. Social-media-shell-shocked. Poor whamen and their social media shenanigans. They most certainly deserve a safe-space on the internet to spew their #killallmen without being harassed for it. How else would they be able to demonize all men without being reminded that men are, as a matter of fact, actual human beings that may not take kindly to calls for them to be killed solely on the basis of their sex?

Yet the claim from feminism is that men in general view women as weak and incapable? It is not men that claim women to be victims of the air-conditioning and the misogyny of temperature. Or of male flatulence. Or exclamation marks. Just putting that out there for you to chew on.

It is quite telling, I think, that feminism seek to shut down – to cancel and remove – anything they dislike. If failing to cancel it, they attempt to mould it into something they enjoy.

Instead of just accepting that some people enjoy things they themselves do not enjoy and carrying on with their life, they would rather make it so that no-one shall enjoy it. A world in which they have to co-exist with people who knowingly and without a moments hesitation enjoy something they can not stand is a terrible world to exist in. There is a reason for me referring to feminism as totalitarian and tyrannical. If something does not suit their delicate sensibilities, it must be shut down so that no-one can enjoy it. And people oblige. For some odd and peculiar reason, people oblige them in their quest for moral as well as ideological purity.

This man wrote something on a portrait of Stalin in the newspaper! Off to the Gulag with him! Subterfuge and acts of terrorism!

This man made a joke about female lingerie! Off to the Goolag with him! Subterfuge and acts of misogyny!

Imagine the horror of someone enjoying something you do not enjoy!

The horror!

The Horror!

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.

…Ford Transit Gloria Mundi…

Such is the case with striptease and pornography and grid-girls and Barbie and nude modelling and Fifty Shades of Grey and tit and tat and arse and legs. If the feminist horde do not enjoy it, none shall be allowed to enjoy it. It does not matter what women in these professions say, whether they enjoy their work or not. The feminist hive-mind – that is to say, their moral superiors – have decided that these women are not allowed to enjoy their work, and as such are not allowed to do their work. They are victims of their own choices which are forced on them by the patriarchy, whether they agree with this statement or not. Women can not make their own choices, if those choices contradict the feminist position. Which just about every choice does, since feminism is not a monolith and one feminist’s act of empowerment is another feminist’s act of oppression. In this way, sex-work is both empowering and oppressive to feminism. Which is all about women making their own choices. Except when it isn’t. Which is when it is.

Seemingly and apparently, nothing is more vile and treacherous to these charlatans than a woman choosing to be home-maker, a housewife, a stay-at-home-mother! That is such a terrible affront to the terribly trembling forces that be that they will name, blame and shame any woman who does so, try to convince her that she has not made her own choices but is locked under the spell and awesome influence of the patriarchy and must break free from its chains and instead enjoy what they say she must enjoy. Which is not necessarily what she wants to do, but that does not matter.

Any one individual woman does not exist to an ideology that is collectivist when it suits them and individualist when collectivism does not suit them – no sir, she does not! She is part of the in-group “women”, and as such must do as the sisterhood demands. Otherwise, she is a traitor to the sisterhood as well as the cause. Whatever the cause may be at any given moment. And that cause is as fickle and ever-changing as anything that is fickle and ever-changing could possibly be.

The typical mantra of “We only want equality between the sexes” does not compute very well when feminism opposes equality, such as they do in England where the pension-age has been raised for women to be equal to the pension-age of men. This they can not stand, and so they protest and oppose. Even when men die younger than women, and so ought to have their pension-age lowered for true and proper equality.

It is so obviously not equality they seek that it boils my teeth and grinds my intestines that people still chant this bloody mantra of theirs that it is only about equality. As if that nebulous weasel-term “equality” even means anything any more except whatever a god-damned feminist demand that it means at any given moment. Which is to be opposed by the next feminist. And neither of these are real feminists, nor is their feminism real feminism according to the feminist that oppose the first feminist. Cock me backwards and paint my dogs pink; this whole ideology is so self-contradictory that I cannot fathom why people label themselves as a feminist as though it means anything concrete. Apparently, it means everything and nothing all at once… it is for all the causes in the universe at the same time as being only for the causes of women.

The brilliant Elizabeth Hobson has a saying which I enjoy very much: “Feminism is harmful to children and other living things”. Well put, madam, well put.

If you are a man who enjoy any of the past-time activities mentioned above… if you are a man who simply just want a traditional relationship for whatever reason… may the grand Patriarch Xenu have mercy on your lack of soul!

You are henceforth, and until the end of time, a foul oppressor of women, contributing to the ongoing sexual objectification of women, the subjugation and enslavement of women, the rape, pillage and ruination of women, the body-hysteria of women, the fuck-if-I-know-insert-whatever-here of women.

After all, women were treated as chattel back in the days when they were pampered and protected, as opposed to now, where they are free to do exactly as they wish, as long as they do what feminism wishes them to do.

And as long as men – as well as society overall – pamper and protect them.

Now, I have stated before, that I am not a particular fan of traditionalism… at least not one that is enforced by law or by culture. I believe it removes far too much individual freedom from everyone, be they male or female.

How people chose to delegate responsibilities and roles in their personal relationships – traditional or not – should not be of any worry to anyone but those who are involved. But to claim – as feminism does – that men overwhelmingly emerge victorious in all manner of privilege and what-not when it comes to a traditional relationship is brutally dishonest. At best. No-one lies on their death-bed, whispering “I wish I had spent more time at work”.

Now, I am well aware that feminism makes the claim to care about the plight of men; “Gender Roles Hurt Men Too!”.

Odd, then, that they jabber on and on about men needing to stand up for and protect women. Which is a very traditional gender role, to be sure and to be certain. Protect. And provide.

Provide them with Barbie Dolls and protect them from Barbie Dolls and the negative impact these dolls have on young girls at the same time.

Despite Barbie being created by a woman. This don’t matter much, of course. Celebrating things created by women is only ever done if the things created flows with the orthodoxy. Which it probably did back in the day… However, what self-proclaimed feminists of yesteryear celebrated will not be celebrated by the self-proclaimed feminists of this current year of ours. Except when it is. Which is when it isn’t.

It is almost as though one would be inclined to believe – yet again – that feminism, as it stands, have no end-goals. That it is an ideology and a movement that is created to carry on and carry on and carry on in perpetuity, manufacturing new outrages and terrors and this-that-the-others for every new generation of frail and frantic femininity… even if that means going contrary to the previous generation of frantic feminism and its causes.

Everything, you have to understand, is a women’s issue first and foremost, no matter what it is. Even the things that are not women’s issues first and foremost has to be a women’s issue first and foremost. Which is interesting in itself. Men are victims of violence far more than women are. Yet women are most affected, and are the ones who must be protected. Men are completely capable of fending for themselves. Women are not. And so women must be provided for and protected from men by men, despite all men being terrible and despite men being the main victims of violence. This could well be applied to anything. Meteor hits earth, women most affected. Barbie hits stores, women most affected. Girls enjoy Barbie-dolls, and this is terrible.

Buy a fucking He-man doll then, and stop yer whinin’!

And that is it for this ramble. Join me next week for more Tales From the Crypt, as I attempt to channel the awesome might and energy of my intoxicatingly masculine beard into words once again.

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 07.12.2019

Lonely Trainstation Blues – Poetry for the Lost Boys, Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZB6K2JX
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Anger is an Energy

«Stomping Boots»

Anger is an energy.

A raging beam of unfocused energy so destructive, it tears through anything – even the fabric of reality itself. And it rips, it rends, it tears and beats and breaks. It claws and gnaws and it bites and it burns.

Anger, when accumulated lies, like a blood-clot, centred, in the torso or in the back of the skull, spreading through the body like a toxin… taking its toll on muscles, tendons, nerves… on joints and bones, on mind and body both.

Anger renders insanity a viable option to sanity; irredeemable unreality a viable option to reality. It clouds the mind and clouds the vision, fogs it down and breaks out in weird psychedelic patterns like spirals pointing down into the maelstrom, into the vortex, into the wild and incomprehensible asbestos jungle of irrationality… into weird, obscene and perverse pantomimes like burlesque shows done in acid-baths… upside down and ridiculous, pointless, pissing into the wind.

Anger is to be trained, to be tamed, to be overcome, to be focused… a raging beam of focused energy so constructive that it tears through the illusion and the tricks and hits and kicks and snarls and roars. Just like any other overwhelming emotion, it ought to be channelled direct from its source, from its festering wound, from its inflamed tendons and burning muscle-tissue. It ought to be called out to play and then to dance a mocking dance, in a frenzied trance, channelled, controlled, focused… from the internal source, pointed straight at the face of the external source.

From the mouth of the river straight back to the mouth of the river, as it were, feeding on and off itself until it is transcended… until all that is left is a laughter like a flame, burning brighter than the brightest fucking flame.

Anger, once channelled, becomes an incredibly constructive force. Let loose to become substantial, to become creation, to become inspiration, to become all that is, was, ever shall be… it goes from being the end of days to being the beginning of days.


You’re damned fucking right that I’m angry.

And so fucking what… and no fucking wonder.

For years and years, there was this unfocused mass of anger tearing at my throat and at the base of my skull… rage turned inwards, to become, essentially, self-destructive and self-deceptive self-annihilation, effectively self-devouring insanity, paving the way for depression and anxiety and eternal anguish… locked in the jaws of hell itself… in the jaws of hell myself, more like… With no release for that destruction, that all-devouring darkness festering within but the time-slap dance of next level nihilism and dread despair, doomed eternally to equal parts self-pity and self-loathing.

Pitiful and pathetic, in a word or two.

Perhaps with a smidgeon of self-deprecating humour thrown in there for good measure.

I see no strangeness in my anger, no oddities and no misguided notions of this or that or the other. When things are as unbalanced as they are, as irredeemably hateful and neglectful and – with no illusion of it being anything but – unjust as they are in the public discourse – or pubic discourse more like, on the subject of sex and gender… where men are painted as permanent patriarchal perpetrators of pestilent penetration and obscene oppression, I see little wonder and even less strangeness in my anger… or the anger of any other man who finds himself in the situation, in the shit-stew, in the aching bones and broken body of arrhythmic anguish and anger.

When the whimsical worries and petulant whining of one sex and one sex only is uttered constantly, up to and including the horrible sexism of the air-conditioning, whereas the woes and worries of the other sex is scorned, ridiculed and beat like an abused child in perpetuity, anger is a particularly well suited emotional response.

Particularly so when the abused is blamed for their abuse. And make no mistake, nor any other piss-take about it: blaming boys, blaming men, blaming masculinity itself for all that is wrong in the world is abuse. Blaming masculinity itself for all that is wrong with the emotional world of boys and men is abuse. It is constant, chronic, permanent, perpetual abuse that is celebrated by the culture at large; a bird flipped right in our cracked and bleeding faces through the wonders and the glory of the majestic cuntural revolution we are pissed and prodded into in this awe-inspiring dawn of the Honk.

You are damned fucking right that I am angry.

And I am damned fucking right in my anger.

All the blabber-mouthed blubber-talk we are force-fed about how everything has a negative influence on the self-image and self-esteem of girls and women… how pictures of slim women, for example, makes girls anorectic… How it is an unrealistic body-standard; a beauty-ideal handcrafted by the greedy hands of thirsty and oppressive men…

(Pictures of titties sell products. Mainly to women, since women are the ones who consume the most product and spend the most money… but that is beside the point – it is only there for the sexual gratification of men, you see and have got to understand with every inch of your throbbing patriarchy-muscle (Incidentally, “Throbbing Patriarchy Muscle” is my wife’s pet name for my penis. AKA my awe-inspiring rape-implement of doom). Even when this line of thought, that only straight men would drool at the feet of a picture of a slim woman, through the reasoning of the social justice warrior and feminist hive-mind is absurdly heteronormative. Not that internal consistencies matter all that much, mind you. Not when there is outrage to be generated and revenue to be had from said outrage, be that social revenue or actual revenue.)

These ads and images have got to be changed, even outlawed, you see. So that the poor girls should not grow up to be slim women, caught in the throes of anorexia, which is, apparently, any woman who is not morbidly obese if one is to believe the fat-activists. But, no mind, little matter. Or, well, much matter, little mind.

For all that talk, that grunted gibberish, that buzz and thump, there is virtually no talk that this bombardment of constant negative messages we are spoon-fed regarding the nature of boys, the nature of men, the nature of masculinity itself is harmful to the emotional well-being of boys and men. No condemnation of this complete and utter contempt for boys and men, showcased and highlighted as it is as being some supreme moral good.

It is rage-inducing.

There is no acknowledgement that maybe, just maybe, painting men in their entirety as some wicked, cruel, false and flawed evil entity hell-bent on destruction and oppression has a negative impact on the self-esteem, the image of self and the belief in self of boys and men. No acknowledgement whatsoever that constantly belittling, attacking and devouring boys and men and masculinity is damaging. Boys and men don’t feel anything, according to the whims and bleeding gums of Queen Neoteny and her awesome state of Hysteria. And when we do, what we feel is wrong, how we hurt is wrong. The reason is something-something muh toxic masculinity something-something.

It is rage-inducing.

Psychological torment and emotional abuse is A-OK, as long as you point the cerebral gun directly at the minds of boys and men… As long as you vomit this contempt straight at the hearts and souls of boys and men, it is OK. The sick is dripping on us from every level of society; misandry made manifest in law; made to be a natural part of every day social interaction, part of the social fabric, in truth and as a matter of fact. And they dare – they have the audacity – to present it as being of help to boys and men, as lending us empathy and understanding.

It is rage-inducing.

Or, well, there is talk that this is harmful to boys and men – and society itself, for that matter. Yet, those of us who do talk about it are scorned, ridiculed, laughed at and labelled misogynists, as carriers of the virus of fragile masculinity and toxic masculinity… as incels and abusers and oppressors and rapists and rape apologists and violent madmen and God knows what else… as long as there is a somewhat suitable label to throw around, the labels and the insults and the dismissals will rain down upon us; so much vomit and rot straight from the horses mouth. For added emphasis and sympathy, the feminist will feign fear and terror at any objection to feminism – claiming it to be terrifying and frightful and making her feel unsafe… a true picture of strength, resilience and independence. Obviously.

It is rage-inducing.

Then this anger from men will be used to further paint men as inherently dangerous to women and children and society and the world and the universe and God and the Devil and our neighbours and their pet poodles. As defective and destructive, disruptive and demonic. This despite the anger being directed at feminism as a set of ideas, not women as a group. This does not matter to a mind and a world-view that is incapable of separating their sex from an ideology. Which says more about them than it ever will about us, but this don’t matter much to a society caught in lies, slander and hysteria.

The terribly trembling forces that be do nothing but dismiss those of us who dare to talk about that which we dare talk about. When once one has been dismissed as a misogynist, an oppressor and abuser of women – with no evidence provided, nothing substantial presented as proof – one is fair game for all the scorn and hate and shame and ridicule society has got to offer. For simply highlighting the struggles of men through a lens not tainted by feminist ideology, we are hated. Hate and shame and lies and slander packaged with deliberate care and sent our way from the fair and frail forces that never cared to listen to or think about what we are, in fact, saying, writing, screaming and singing… choosing instead to only listen to the voices of the narrow and malicious mainstream narrative that dared paint all men everywhere as violent oppressors of women and all women everywhere as oppressed by violent men.

For ever and ever and in thy kingdom lost.


For the anger of men is dangerous, is unpalatable, is to be presented as abuse in itself, then quenched, then drowned, then taken into the presentation of the predatory patriarchy-theory, the pestilent propaganda that furthers the cause of the hive-mind and all its clinger-ons and orbiters… that never once stopped and paused and considered and wondered why this anger exist; that never once took the time to listen and understand where the anger stems from. Choosing, instead, to smear and ponder, to point fingers and propose that they know where the anger comes from. Choosing, instead, to believe that they – not we – are the ones to tell everyone everywhere why we are angry.

It is rage-inducing.

You are damned fucking right that we are angry.

And we are damned fucking right in our anger.

This rage, this anger, this accumulated energy that rends, rips and tears at the inside of the self… of the body and the mind, the heart and the soul, must be let loose. It must be purged, expelled, let out of the system lest it festers and ruins and breaks a man down. If not channelled properly, anger is incredibly destructive – either to one self or to society at large. Now, of course, a bunch of angry and self-destructive men focusing their rage inwards is damaging to society as well as the one man himself.

That is besides the point… at least at the moment of pointing. The point I am trying to point at is a simple one – when channelled properly and expelled graciously, anger may very well be an incredible force of creation and construction, be that for the self or for the world. Though preferably for both.

Some men do martial arts, some men lift weights, some men do this and some men do that… it does not matter what, at the end of the day, as long as one does something constructive with ones anger instead of cultivating it as some roaring, burning, destructive inner crass and crusty calamity… a tumour or an ulcer that grows and grows, becoming fatter and fatter for every new slight, every new trespass, every new whatever… until it kills.

For my part, I chose writing as my main outlet for all my anger and rage and disillusionment.

And I am all the better for it, by every conceivable metric. Even though healing from grief, loss, anger and despair is a slow, long, arduous and constant process, I am all the better for it. And wiser, I would dare say. Insofar as I can be considered wise, I suppose.

In my writings, rants, ravings and ramblings, there is a release of pressure that would otherwise build and build and build, culminating in an explosion. Doing as I do and being as I am, this explosion would become an implosion, beating in and down on myself until there would be nothing left of me but a smear on the carpet of a bathroom after a drunken stupor.

And that thought, in itself, is rage-inducing.

Better, then, to write and rave and rant and ramble for as long as I am able.

Until I get considered a foul purveyor of hate-speech and get shipped of to the Gulag for re-education and re-examination of my frail, toxic and incredibly violent masculinity.

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 04.12.2019

Lonely Trainstation Blues – Poetry for the Lost Boys, Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZB6K2JX
Lonely Trainstation Blues – Poetry for the Lost Boys, Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1692495518

Howling at a Slutwalk Moon, a collection of previous blog posts:
Vol 1 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/107571074X
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Why I am an Anti-feminist, part 10:

«Morning Greetings»

From http://www.etymonline.com:

Rape (v.)

Late 14c., “Seize prey, abduct, take by force,” from rape and from Anglo-French raper (Old French Rapir) “to seize, abduct”, a legal term, probably from past participle of Latin rapere “seize, carry off by force, abduct”.

Latin rapere was used for “sexually violate,” but only very rarely; the usual Latin word being stuprare “to defile, ravish, violate,” related to stuprum, literally “disgrace.” Meaning “To abduct (a woman), ravish;” also “seduce (a man)” is from early 15c. In English. Related: Raped; raping. Uncertain connection to Low German and Dutch rapen in the same sense.

Rape (n.1)

Early 14c., “Booty, prey;” mid-14c., “Forceful seizure; plundering, robbery, extortion,” from Anglo-French rap, rape, and directly from Latin rapere “seize” (see rape (v.1). Meaning “Act of abducting a woman or sexually violating her or both” is from early 15c., but perhaps late 13c. In Anglo-Latin.

Rape (n.2)

Kind of Cruciferous plant… but that’s not important right now.

Well, then, apart from the knowledge that “rape” means both “booty” and “forceful seizure”, (albeit at different times), allowing my immature mind to immediately connect the two into “forceful seizure of booty” and then proceed to giggle like a thirteen year old who has only recently discovered pornography and masturbation… why would I bore you with this?

First and foremost, I find it fairly interesting to see how words evolve and change and grow. How they take on new meanings over time. In another life, I may very well have become a linguist. Though, that would have also meant becoming an academic, which is not particularly tempting, interesting or alluring. Particularly not in the current year.

Secondly, I would like to believe that I am not the only one who noticed a few small details in the definition. And that is “to abduct (a woman), ravish”, “act of abducting a woman or sexually violating her or both”, and – most interesting – “seduce (a man)”.

I take this to mean that women are sexually violated by men, and that men are seduced by women. (Though I have no problems admitting that this may very well be my bias at work.) It does seem to be pretty much such as it is, was, always have been and always will be regarding male victims of female sexual violence. For, interestingly enough, it is exactly as the wordings are in newspapers in our current clown-world climate regarding the same.

Particularly so in this sacred current year of our lord and saviour Id-pol, in which we have been gifted a veritable cornucopia, a seemingly endless stream of female teachers raping their under-aged pupils or students. Only for the act to always and ever be referred to as her seducing him or them engaging in a romantic affair or a light-hearted, sexual romp.

One of my favourite cases must have been the one female teacher who claimed that she was the one seduced by the kid… on multiple occasions. She was the victim, you have to understand, of her statutory rape of her student as well as her misuse of power.

Yet, if the we’ve-got-to-complain-about-something-nag-nag forces of frail and fragile feminism has taught us anything, it is this: anyone in a position of power may never have sexual relations with anyone who is beneath them in the chain of command. That is rape, no matter what. According to feminism. This only ever applies when it is a man doing it. As one would expect. If it is a woman, even a teacher and her student, it is not rape. It is seduction, it is a romp, it is a romantic affair. It is this or that or the other. The lengths people will go to in order to not use the word “rape” when it is a woman raping a man or a boy are extraordinary. And, admittedly, impressive in its perverse way.

Part of this refusal to use the word “rape”, I believe, is due to the laws in the countries concerned, in which rape only happens if there is forced penetration of any part of the body, not when someone is forced to penetrate. Being forced to penetrate is another thing altogether, which may go a long way in explaining why there are so few men popping up as victims in the rape-statistics. Forced to penetrate is simply not counted as rape, and is as such not included. They look to cases of rape for their statistics, brilliantly ignoring cases where the man is made to penetrate. For it is not counted as rape. Sneaky, weaselly and very, very feminist. That is one way to make it appear as if men are seldom, if ever, raped, I suppose. And if they are, it is a man doing it and not a woman. Excepting if the woman penetrates the man with something. Supposedly. Skewed statistics and the kiddy-diddlers. (Excellent band-name. I charge 15 percent royalties, should you chose to use it.)

It is very easy for feminism to just change the definitions around, make the laws and the terminology gender-specific instead of gender-neutral in this era where everything must be gender-neutral except this one thing and that one thing and this other thing, according to the whims of feminism, then sit back and watch the sweet victim-credentials roll in, alongside the government funds to combat the horrible all-male rape squads that prowl the streets at night with unhindered glee in this terrible rape culture of ours. I am looking directly at you, Mary P. Koss.

The rape-squads march with vicious grins alongside the terrible Nazi pug storm-troopers, seeking to forcefully seize all the booty they can carry, ravage and/or defile in their jew-gassing white supremacist misogynist paws, brave pawns of the patriarchy that they undoubtedly are.

We are truly living in a Neo-nazi pug-infested morbid rape-culture, in which rape of a woman is never ever frowned upon, taken seriously, believed or punished… despite raping a woman being considered, both in law and by the culture at large, one of the most heinous crimes one could possibly commit, at times being considered worse than murder.

A woman raping a man, however, is not frowned upon in such a way and such a manner, oddly enough. That is impossible, according to the culture at large.

It is almost as though one would be inclined to dub it a rape-culture, based on feminist definitions, where the victim of rape is never believed and the perpetrator never punished…

Almost as though one would be inclined to believe that we live in a culture in which it has been decided that women are wonderful, and as such are incapable of doing anything terrible, horrible, wicked, evil, cruel, tricksy or false. To such an extent that, when they are found guilty without a doubt, there has got to be some other force to lay the blame upon – usually some terrible abuse, usually suffered at the hands of a male.

Now, I will absolutely and freely admit that I do think it is incredibly important to understand what drives people to do terrible things. Whether those that do so are male or female. Understanding the underlying causes of this, that or the other makes it easier to transcend the underlying causes and so heal – on an individual level – from the trauma or abuse that otherwise may drive people to despair and destruction. This is obviously not to say that I believe people, no matter their sex, should not have to suffer the consequences of their actions. Nor that I condone or support their actions in any way, shape or form. It is to say that understanding the reasons may help forge a path to walk that does not end in disaster, be that disaster something that affects the whole of society or only the one individual.

There is a difference, however, in understanding the causes for something and making excuses for something. It is possible to be empathetic to the trauma and struggles of someone, whilst simultaneously condemning their actions and demand that they face their punishment, whether male or female. Though, I suspect, in this era of the black and white thinking, in the age of identity politics, these are heretical words…

…when aimed at a male, considering that masculinity itself has become a force of crusty, black and decaying evil all alone on its lonesome. It is the bogeyman of our day and of our age, alternately dubbed “toxic masculinity” for not wanting to speak the whole truth of their conviction, which is that all masculinity not in direct service to women i.e. feminism (he for she, for example) is toxic masculinity. There is certainly room for a whole lot of nuanced understanding when it is a woman doing something bad. I am reminded of the medical student in England who, amongst other things, stabbed her boyfriend and got off with no punishment for reasons of the judge not wanting to hinder her promising future career-prospects. As a surgeon. And no wonder; after stabbing her boyfriend, she has already done half of her internship regarding surgery. It would be such a waste of her time and efforts to punish her for doing her job as a surgeon pro bono.

Oh boy.

You have got to understand this: we can not, under any circumstances, have a woman’s future destroyed on account of her fucking it up herself by being violent, crazy, drunk and coked up.

When it suits the powers that be, women have absolutely no agency and no self-determination. Which would go a long way in explaining why feminism believes women incapable of making their own choices, if those choices are choices that go against the sacred tenets, the bewitching rules of the coven of feminism and its broomstick waving, high-flying fancy. Women are as such absolutely incapable of fucking up their futures themselves.

For, in being so strong and independent, they are completely incapable of making their own decisions, bad or good. Now, these are not my opinions – to be clear and to be certain. I absolutely believe women to be just as capable as men of fucking up or not fucking up.

For, you see, I believe men and women should be treated equally. A very radical, dissenting and terrible thought in this age of frail, fragile, fractured, fracturing and fear-inducing feminism I know, but it seems I can not help but be a radical. Even when I don’t wanna be a radical. Or, for that matter, believe myself to be a radical. I am a fairly boring person, all things considered. And I am absolutely fine with that.

What I am not fine with is the feminist hive-mind, including – but not limited to – their SJW cohorts, goons, squadrons, academics, politicians and so forth and so on, ever and always changing the meaning of the word “rape”. One has got to be wilfully blind to not notice this. It is being changed to include anything a woman does not enjoy – including being looked at by a man in a manner that does not suit her delicate sensibilities.

Which is interesting to me, for how is it possible for women to read the minds of men and, in so doing, decide what their intentions are? How could anyone but the man in question possibly know what is or is not his intentions? The subjective feelings of anyone should not be enough to get people punished, be that through law or through mob-hysteria. Yet, we are standing here, in this grey and shady current year, implementing thought-crime laws where the wielder of thoughts do not get a say in what he thinks. For someone else knows better than him what he thought. All for someone feeling uncomfortable under the terror of his male gaze, reading his mind and telling him what he thinks, never giving a fuck what he actually thought, said or did.

In order to be safe, gentlemen, be sure to keep your eyes on the ground when encountering a woman. Keep your head bowed. Do not look her in the eyes. Show respect and deference to your betters! Otherwise, you may very well be charged with the terrible crime of stare-rape. Which may happen on stairs, but not necessarily.

I say this only partly in jest.

That is the most frightening thing.

A pleb and a peasant could not possibly expect that he be allowed to look the aristocratic elite in the eye. How could they? That would tear down the entire social order, fabric and structure. The peasants must be kept in their rightful place. The balance must be kept just as God intended. Some are chosen by God, and some are not. Such as it is, was, always will be.

The meaning of the word “rape” is being watered down so much as to make the entire word completely meaningless. Western civilization is held dangling by a string over a pool of lava by people restructuring and remodelling language to such an extent that nothing has any concrete meaning. There is no definitive meaning to words that once were powerful words with quite a distinct meaning. Racist, misogynist, Nazi, supremacist, fascist, rapist, etc. etc… all these words are now being thrown around willy-nilly in order to shame someone into compliance, to make them defend themselves and not the argument at hand.

If you want to control a population, I believe destroying language completely is a good way of going about it. If nothing means anything concrete any more, then nothing has any meaning any more. If nothing has any concrete and definite meaning, what is there then to build upon – or, for that matter – to stand upon? Thus, order makes room for disorder and chaos.

If merely looking at a woman in a way she disapproves of – without taking the intentions of the man in question into consideration – is enough to label someone a rapist, a predator, or whatever, there really is nothing to the word “rape”. If rape can be anything experienced by a woman which she subjectively felt was creepy or uncomfortable, there can be no possible way to objectively punish someone for the act of rape. This is frightening, when considering that punishment under law is supposed to be handed out based on objectively analysed evidence, not subjectively experienced emotions.

In the era of #metoo, one is guilty until proven innocent, instead of being innocent until proven guilty. Any protest about this very clear erosion of due process necessarily must mean, to the hive-mind and various other witch-finder generals, that one is guilty of something or other. Taking into consideration that quite a few prominent feminists have managed to delude themselves and others into believing that any and all act of heterosexual sex is rape of the woman by the man, it really is not all that far-fetched to think this could only mean, to the feminist fog-mind, that every straight man out there who has ever gotten his willy wetted by a consenting willy-wetter of no ill repute, is guilty of rape.

And me writing this is enough to get me labelled a rape-apologist. And probably a rapist as well. Which is circular logic at its very finest. Of course, I am a married man and have been in this committed relationship for close-to thirteen years. Which means that I have – according to the “all heterosexual sex is rape” squad, been raping my wife for thirteen years. Apparently, she is so weak and frail and completely under my control that she can not leave such an abusive relationship. Feminism does not hold the best view there is in regards to women, if they believe women so frail and weak as to willingly stay in a relationship where they are raped several times a month for thirteen years. On occasion more than once a day. For weeks on end. Months and years even. Oh, the horror! If rape is so terrible as feminism says that it is, I wonder why so many women seek sex, when all heterosexual sex is rape. Are women to stupid to know rape when they see it?

But, I digress.

I asked my wife about this, and she said that she was completely unaware of being a victim of rape for thirteen years and more. What a victim she is, indeed, to actually believe herself to not be a victim of rape. Consensual rape, with all the Oh God Yes-es that entails. Am I making my point clear enough? Good. Thank you. On we go.

First: water down the definition of rape so that it means anything and nothing.

Second: claim that objections to the first point is proof that all men harbour shady rape-fantasies which they can not properly curtail.

Third: use the dubious evidence from the second point to further the agenda and water down the term even more. For women must be protected from the terrible rapist males out there, which, evidently, is every man there is, considering that all heterosexual sex – consenting or no – is rape.

Fourth: rinse and repeat.

Now, I am viewed as either a rapist or a potential rapist no matter what – based solely on the undeniable might and terrible influence of my swinging cock-sword – my deeply loved and horrible rape-implement of doom. Writing about the plight of boys and men as I do only furthers this abject fuckery, as the image presented by the eternally oppressed feminist hive-mind of us terrible MRA’s is one of wishes for eternal rape, subjugation, slavery, and so and such of all women everywhere by all men everywhere. Obvious lies and clear slander is, as it always is, not a problem whatsoever when it comes from the feminist side of things.

They do not need to speak truth to power.

In fact, they are the power that need truth spoken to them.

They may speak in lies and serpent-tongues as much as they wish, and suffer no consequences for doing so. Clearly, this is something any severely oppressed and downtrodden group have always been able to do. Particularly when speaking about the ones that oppress them – or wish to oppress them.


I am thinking, in particular, about a certain professor Rebecca Sullivan, and her incredibly un-enlightened – one could even say slanderous, venomous, lying-until-you-believe-it-yourself, piss-pot, pretentious, hackneyed, dumbfuck, intellectually amputated, failed abortion, fetal alcohol syndrome, crack-baby, slobbering-on-her-shoes, short-bus-material, obviously-diversity-hire, childish interview on CBC, in which she did nothing but spread venomous and harpy-like lies about the men’s rights movement. And did so with impunity. On national fucking television. An MRA was not present, as one would expect, to counter her absolute self-indulgent full frontal rectal-examination of the issues. In this interview, she has her head stuck so far up her arse that she has to breathe through her ears and wipe her nose and butt at the same time at the same place… through placing tissue over her eyes. Eyes that, incidentally, are only able to see as far as her nose reaches. Her nose reaches her belly-button. Just about. From inside her stomach. Am I getting to vile? Good.

In this world, where men are ever so privileged and women are ever so oppressed, I struggle to understand why the ever so privileged class are not allowed to defend themselves against attack from the ever so oppressed class, on state-funded national television where one should believe that the privileged class – that is, the ruling class – would have absolute say over the sway of things going on in the state-funded television, given that the patriarchy that governs all and oppress all in equal measures (yet oppress women the most) fund the bloody thing. The more I think about it, the less sense it makes. Yet people will cling to this idea that women are eternally oppressed by men, all men everywhere, despite feminism holding so much sway and say and might and power and influence as it does. It makes not a lick of sense. Women are so oppressed that they are to be believed without a shadow of a doubt, no matter what they say. #believewomen. And do not believe men. For they are evil incarnate and the rapiest scum of the earth, even when they are good men. And any man is only a good man as long as he does whatever he can do to give his all and everything to women – that is to say – to the cause of feminism.

Men are utilities when they are not sexist rapist scum, and sexist rapist scum when they are not utilities. There are no other roles for us in the feminist utopia.

Here endeth this part of the ramble. Join me next week for more. Today I had to cook my morning-coffee in a Primus, since the electricity was gone for about two and a half hours. I also ruined my daily routine. As a result, I am grumpy at the moment of writing. There was a lot of snark written, and quite a lot of sarcasm. Just as God intended.

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 30.11.2019

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Tomorrow Seems So Long Ago

«Portrait of a sleeping dog»

Yesterday seems so long ago.

Sitting in a clouded living-room staring out at the season-changing skies; onomatopoeic clouds riff-raff through winter-streets… paved with dead-eyed faces, half buried… all broken and beat with cruel whips and laid in chains, all in their rightful place.

Yesterday seems so long ago.

Gaze far enough ahead and you could conjure vivid images of yesterday’s apocalypses; the doom and gloom and downfall which the dawn of that age and its tense present-tense enlightenment presented then as truth and fact with neither doubt nor hesitation.

The past bears remarkable pockmarks from the present and the future upon its brutish facial features. Cigarette-burns like hollow wells and silver-bells upon its arms, from wrist till shoulder-joint.

Those who would not care to reflect properly and tenderly upon the fragmented history we found and sought and saw in ancient tombs like wombs of knowledge opened and excavated… are doomed to repeat it and repeat it and repeat it. Or would willingly do so, seeing neither this nor that nor tit nor tat.

As though the entirety of the human race live in a permanent and perplexing purgatory… repeating all its follies, flaws and faults with gusto and windbag bravado… for the hysteria and persecution of yesterday was stupid and unenlightened – how dumb and unknowing they were back then, in medieval times or Victorian times or when, whatever, never-mind – not enlightened, woke and brilliant as we are in the here-and-now, the present-tense neurosis of our droll drooling dumbstruck drama-manufacturing lips, wagging fingers and shaking hips.

Yesterday seems so long ago.

Gobbly goo and gracious gutter-mouthed Goddess Goodness, how thrice-cursed and dementedly stupid they were back in those yesterdays – burning witches or torturing heretics for the crime of well, whatever, never-mind – or persecuting homosexuals or Gypsies, Jews, the Sámi people for the sake of well, whatever, never-mind…

Enlightened then by the Grace of God and depraved spiritual decadence, far from what we are now – enlightened by the shining secular light of our gibber-gruff grunted grime and guffaw: intellectual elitism through the burning grace of depraved intellectual decadence… a weird coincidance of time and time-slips that brought morality and ethics to its knees in lackademic word-salads pondering and proposing perpetual postmodern nihilism where nothing is truth except that which I myself say is truth, which is, always and ever, the complete opposite of what you may say is truth… as long as you disagree with what I myself say is truth from lived experience that I and only I can experience, not you and only you. There is no objective truth, except the truth that there is no objective truth.

For morality is highly relative, say the clouds and raindrops both in two-faced harmony, in depravity and ecstasy, in paranoia and in insecurity… and relativity is highly moral – the grounded hill upon which to die, you see, you scheme, you bugger-off-and-die.

And the high relativity of nebulous morality necessarily must come to mean that my present-tense morality is of higher worth than your past-tense morality… this despite morality being deeply loved and fondled relativity, relative to my stance on certain issues… but not your stance on certain issues… for the moral ground on which you stand is so stand-offish and icky, tiring to these delicate sensibilities of mine which I have cultivated as my highest moral virtue and my one and only saving grace – the illuminati of offence taken, yet never given. Despite morality being relative, my morality is more relative than your morality, and so my morality is the true and proper morality to which all must adhere. Relatively speaking.

Tomorrow seems so long ago.

With a mind clouded by swamp-gas and mulch-rats, I sit and watch the rain drip onto the streets below, whose pavement-cracks and sinkhole-gaps are filled with the blood of men from ages past and long since gone. Blood that has coagulated and hardened into cement to keep the cracks from cracking back up, to keep the lines in place and keep the streets aligned.

Millennia of rough, hard, difficult work and tiring toil that takes its toll on soul and body both. A certain sacrifice of self done for the greater good, or out of necessity and more, or all, for all.

Tomorrow seems so long ago.


At the moment of writing, I hear the drilling, hammering, clattering and crashing of hard work and manual labour outside… Making it hard to focus, hence the tonal shift. The entirety of the exterior wall of our apartment complex is to be taken down and replaced. It’s been going on for months now.

It is cold outside, and it has been cold for quite some time. Wet, slippery, freezing and raining, cold winds. These guys are up in the scaffolding, no matter the wear or tear of the weather, the cold creeping winds or rain, working on getting it done. More likely than not being paid far less than they deserve.

I can not help but notice that there are precious few women in these kinds of jobs. Though this, I have been told, is due to the environment being so toxically masculine or masculinely toxic that women are forced to not apply to such jobs; preferring instead the gender-quotas of the well-paid and high-status jobs to these low-status jobs that are best done by… err… the slave-race(?) Women can not be expected to make their own choices… all their choices, you have to understand, is made for them by society and nothing but society – so help me God.

To be honest, I don’t care if there are women in such jobs or not. I do, however, find it incredibly amusing that there seem to be no push for gender balance in these, and other dirty, grubby, hard and dangerous low-status jobs… no matter the necessity and importance of such jobs. Odd and peculiar, given that gender-balance is so incredibly important in this world of ours.

Diversity is our greatest strength, after all. And diversity – you have got to understand – means everyone and everything, except straight white men… or Pale, Male and Stale, as the feminist inquisition have dubbed it. Still no bigotry or hatred here, guys and gals. This is just punching up. By kicking down.

I can not help but think about coal-mines and construction-work from long ago and ages past… I can not help but think about factory-work and work-related accidents and death… pictures from the construction of the Empire State Building, dangling god-only-knows how far above the ground without a safety net, building this giant bloody thing which they will never reap any benefit from in all probability, for far too little pay with all certainty, sacrificing limbs and life… and possibly their livelihood through sacrificing limbs and life in order to provide and to protect… or only to survive.

Here I sit, sheltered and shaded by the walls which these guys are now fixing and replacing, typing away with all the comfort I could possibly wish to have; warm coffee, soft sofa, lights, electric heat, indoor plumbing, records and movies and books, all mass-manufactured and right there at my finger-tips for my immediate enjoyment whenever I could wish, with the entirety of the internet right before my googly eyes for even more entertainment, information, diversion and distraction.

I can not help but think that, whatever I may think about the value of the written word, about the value of art and culture and – as such – the value of the work I do… it pales and goes down the drain in comparison to the value of the work done by those guys outside who fix my walls while I sit here and type in comfort, getting slightly annoyed at the noise they make as they drill and hammer.

George Orwell put it so brilliantly in his absolutely astonishing work “The Road To Wigan Pier”, which I think is one of the best books I have ever read. I can not find the exact quote, but he talks about how much he will produce in his lifetime as a writer… maybe a shelf of books. Whereas the coal-miner, in a day of work, produces a vast amount of coal… which then helped to fuel all of England. And this type of work – all manner of manual labour – is, for some perverse reason, considered unimportant, considered low, a career no-one should wish for… to such an extent that we simply take it for granted. This is perverse and obscene. Instead of meeting these men with gratitude and respect for the work and sacrifice they do, our cultural and societal zeitgeist would rather meet them with contempt and ridicule. Simply for them being men, and as such being deeply flawed for some reason, they are ridiculed. For having low-status jobs, they are ridiculed.

(And, yes, yes, the inevitable addendum; I am well aware that Orwell was a socialist. I am not a socialist. I used to be back in the day, but was luckily able to drag my head out of the gutter of ideological thinking and so realise the necessity for nuance and the imprisoning nature of ideology. An immature mind + promises of free shit is undoubtedly a dangerous combination! As it stands, I do not embrace any ideology that I am aware of. I am still able to agree with quite a lot of what the man said and wrote, despite not agreeing with everything. At the end of the day, it was tyranny he most opposed. And that, if anything, I am in complete agreement with.)

At the same time, I can not help but think that somewhere, in some cozy cushy office-job, or home-office, some feminist journalist – that is to say “glorified blogger” of fantastic and pure relative morality – which is only relative as far as her solipsism allows it to go – is hastily and angrily typing away at her god-damned overpriced apple-product some excruciating piece in which she pines and cries and claws at the plushy exterior of her cushioned seat about the horrors of men and of masculinity, Googling a few words, perhaps, to be certain of their meaning and their spelling, then proceeding to type the woe-is-me story of the day about the horrors of having a man look at her once, some ten years ago and how this ought to be outlawed and punished to the full extent of the law for him giving her PTSD through the awesome might and strength of his male gaze and, as such, his toxic entitlement to her body.

Never once, during her paid-by-the-word ranting and raving, will she ever consider the fact that, if the electricity should fail so that she could not do her job of whining about men and the terrors of masculinity, chances are that it would be men who got the electricity up and running again. Or if the plumbing should fail, the same applies… if the sewers are clogged up… you catch my drift. It is all taken for granted, and never a thought given to how it all works as well as it does, never any acknowledgement or gratitude for what men – in general – do to keep the wheels of society running. Nothing but scorn, ridicule and fear.

When she is done with her daily pounding of 800 to 1000 words of male-bashing, male-shaming hatred of the male, she reaches for her overpriced Starbucks coffee. She takes a sip, sighs a contented, yet annoyed, sigh and carries on with her next piece – a complaint about the temperature in her office-building, perhaps, or the misogyny of having to pay as much as she does for her spicy Starbucks-diarrhoea when all the terrible men out there is paid more than she is paid for risking their lives and limbs every day…

In actuality and in certainty, she ought to be given a cheaper Starbucks coffee and free this-that-and-the-other, for the plight of womanhood is such a terrible burden on the frail and fractured feminist few… Surely, men have poisoned the well and sprinkled rat-droppings atop her cinnamon bun.

Also, men smell bad and they are poopy-heads.

Tomorrow seems so long ago.

What manner of vulture-morality would allow for the demonization of entire groups of people based on absolutely nothing but arbitrary characteristics, superficial and shallow as that is?

Human morality, apparently.

Lack-luster feminist morality, driven as it is by the full fury of emotion rather than intellect.

We live in an age of mass-hysteria, cows in a constant stampede, perpetuated by the never-ending shit-flinging and lies-designed-to-terrify from feminist journalists and academics, politicians and teachers… telling women everywhere all the time that they must be frightened, nay, terrified of men and masculinity… that they are never safe, not even from their sons, husbands, fathers, brothers. What better way to rule, than through fear and terror? What better way to gather vast armies under your banner, than through telling them that you and only you know how to save them and how to vanquish the enemy?

When you have been irrationally scared out of your mind all your live-long life through the propaganda of war, it is very easy to accept dehumanization of the enemy. The enemy started it. They are out to get you, and have been out to get you all your life, and all your mother’s life, all your grandmother’s life, and so forth and so on. You deserve better, the enemy don’t deserve shit. Very easy to not see the effect the war-rhetoric has on the enemy. For the enemy is the enemy and is, as such, not worthy of consideration. Simple as that.

It seems, to me and my monochrome neuroticism, that as both a species and as a civilized society, humanity need their scapegoats. We need someone to blame. It is devilishly delicious to have someone whom we can hate; the in-group needs their out-group, the out-group needs to know that they are the out-group. Someone must be blamed, and they must be blamed by boiling all the shit and reek and filth of society down into the simplest shit-stew we could possibly create… a black and white goo where there is only ever black and white. This group, or that group. In the case of feminism, it is women and it is men. And any criticism of feminism has become an attack on all women everywhere, despite feminism being an ideology and women not being an ideology. For feminism speaks on behalf of all women everywhere… even the women who do not agree with them and their pettiness. It sees no qualms in attacking all men everywhere… by painting masculinity as an ideology, a pathology, a mental health challenge, a whatever, instead of the natural state of being a man. They are only attacking masculinity, see, not men… if men just stopped being men, men would be quite alright in their book. Obviously.

Men are obsolete, but feminism don’t hate men. And misandry don’t real. Obviously.

Because it is not about hating men, except when it is. And when it is, it is wholly justified and proper hatred, for the oppressed have every right to hate their oppressors. Despite feminism not being about hating men. It’s just about hating the state of being a man. Which is not a natural state of being for a man. Despite men being naturally more prone to all that is bad, it is not natural for a man to be a man. What is natural is for a man to be more like a woman. Despite there being no differences between the sexes. Except when it is. Despite that it isn’t.

Our societies have no common enemy and no common goal and no grand unifying anything any more… all we have are pissing contests and broken-down walls… immaturity and apparent wishes for immortality… in relative morality. All while flexing our immorality.

Tribal this and tribal that, tribal piss and tribal puss… patterns in the sand and patterns in time, all happening and then repeating, and then repeating some more. Only changing what is in and what is out, what is accepted hate and what is not… for that matter, changing what is hate and what is not through flimsy fault-line philosophies that pretend to say something profound without saying anything at all, giving nothing but the flimsiest justification for their hatred and their bigotry and their absolutely terrible double standards, hypocrisy and dimwitted quest for “equality”, meaning nothing but “give me this, because vulva”.

Men as a whole have become the scapegoat; masculinity the original sin.

And we accept and carry on.

As due process is eroded, as the bewitching witch-hunt of past days gory glory is replayed in strange historical re-enactments, giving neither chance nor pause nor a moments thought that maybe – just maybe – we ought to stop and think and breathe instead of reacting immediately and stupidly, flaunting all the moral bravery and virtuous calamity of unthinking bees that sensed their queen and hive threatened by outside forces… just maybe we ought to stop so that we do not repeat the errors of past prosecutions, terror and insanity.

Alas, no! Here we stand, doomed to repetition… tried and true formulas. There must be someone to blame for all and for nothing, by golly, and if we can not blame these people, we surely can blame those people.

Tomorrow seems so long ago.

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 27.11.2019

Lonely Trainstation Blues – Poetry for the Lost Boys, Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZB6K2JX
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Why I am an Anti-feminist, part 9

«Despair», Moiret Allegiere, 2019

The serpent-cult has successfully infiltrated all levels of education. Their venomous fangs bit the thighs of thought and reason; the women-are-wonderful scales on their back hardened into an armour to be used to deflect anything contrary to the commandments of their nest and hive.

We have seen this ideology take the reigns and demand control of every aspect of education. Anything less, and the cancel-squad is out in force and in full bloomy gloom. The thought-virus even goes so far down the line as to inflict their venom on poor and unsuspecting children in kindergartens. My wife was working in a kindergarten as it slowly turned woke. I might ask her to tell us about it some day. “Purple penguins” are the new gender-neutral term for small children forced into the blank slated imbecility sent their way from the institute for higher morality. Known either as “feminism” or as “Sweden”.

Attempting to start a men’s group on whichever campus you could think of is met with sneers and smears and fangs and claws from the eternally oppressed feminist horde, who are so oppressed that they have the power and the right and the will to refuse men the right to create their own groups. This is also witnessed if someone dares hold a lecture to showcase the plight of men. It shall be beat down, burnt and battered by all the busy beaver-bees the hive can send forth. If it is not aligned with the feminist ideals. Men will be beat into submission, into silent sacrifice to the serpent-god.

All in the name of tolerance, kindness and inclusivity, you’ve got to understand.

There is no harm done in telling a generation of boys and young men that they are evil incarnate and the only thing they need to do in order to be saved and safe and sound and – later on – spiritually embalmed – is to denounce their masculinity and pledge allegiance to the flimsy flag of feminist thought, dogma, ideology and stupidity.

To be re-programmed and moulded in the plaster-cast of what the hive-mind consider the best shape and form of a man… neutered in all but the act itself, emasculated and forlorn, torn apart by wicked teeth and claws and fangs… thoughts that burrow deep into their mind to spread through their central nervous system, casting grey clouds of confusion over their self-image and their core identity as men.

It is the rise of the new man; an age of confused emotional flatulence where nothing they do is right; an age of marvellous re-engineering – oh, sorry, I mean re-examination – of what makes a man a man. Which, in my humble opinion, ought to be a question to be answered solely by the individual man himself. A real man is whatever the hell a real man wants to be and to do, and none but the man himself should have a say in what makes a man a real man.

However, what really and truly makes a man a man is something none but the feminist pedagogues of high-and-mighty wondrous morality are allowed to say. Men, as usual, need not apply where their life and well-being is concerned. Certainly not any one individual man who, emotionally bloodied and beat by the feminist indoctrination-squad, might object to the notion that he is the brutal and violent one on account of his masculinity and nothing but that. The serfdom is laid upon his head; to bend the knee and do and do and that will be all, thank you very much. We’ll call upon your toxic masculinity when it is needed to protect women. After all, it is he for she, not she for he or he for he and she and she for he and she.

Getting angry as a natural reaction to a brain-bleed plant from the institute of higher morality – that is feminism – posing as a teacher telling all the boys and young men of their class that there is something wrong with them for the circumstances of their sex is strictly verboten. This goes against the grain and holy shit of their tangled thought-loop. Though one would not be amiss in believing that the hive-mind would rub their hands in glimmering glee as this aggression would then serve as absolute proof of their claims about men and their hostility, their aggression and their violence.

For is it not written in the divine scripture that the rage and searing anger of women is something holy, sanctified and justified… whereas the recurring anger of men is proof that there is something rotten and violent in the nature of men that must be undone and burnt on the pyre?


The lot of them!

And so forth and so on, and even further on.

A woman may be angry at a man – or all men. But a man – any man – may not respond in kind. For the woman will then resort back into her childlike state, whimpering and whispering in the awesome grace of her succulent neoteny that she must be protected. Emotional manipulation is par for the course, ya see and know, when dealing with an ideologue who has weaponized the full force of the frail fragility of feminism… and claiming this facade of weakness to be strength.

Personally, I fail to see how hiding behind crocodile tears and shivering in feigned terror is a mirror-image of strength and resilience… though this may just be me… frail and weak as I have been for years uncounted after being beat about the head, the brainstem and my looming threat of psychosis through education, friends and family for all my god-damned life that there is something innately wrong and flawed with me myself and I for being born a boy and developing into a man. Being a man is tantamount to being born with original sin. A hell of a message to deliver to boys and young men, I think.

And getting through that… breaking the barriers and tearing down that image planted in my mind of myself as deeply flawed – not flawed as all human beings are – but flawed from the core… flawed for being male… takes time and research, strength and energy.

I was 28 years old before I heard anything positive said about men in general. Which would not have been a source of despair, were it not for the fact that there never was any other message than a negative message: there is something wrong with men – all men – for them being men.

I would not be exaggerating if I were to tell you that this message has had a profoundly negative impact on my psychological and emotional well-being, having been led to believe that I was born wrong all my life.

Though, of course, this is obviously nothing but my fragile masculinity at full display, to be easily countered with a selfie from some smug feminist drinking from her “male tears” mug. For the pain of men is an incredible source of amusement, when it is not a taboo topic. Either shunned or ridiculed from the very same forces of fragility that claim men need to open up about their woes and worries. It is a strange thing; a dubious double-speak, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. If this admittance shows me as being weak in some way or other, I don’t give a flying fuck. I am not ashamed of showing weakness. Or of showing vulnerability. Or of showing strength, for that matter.

And is that not what the feminist hive-mind have been preaching for all these years?

Time to practice what you preach, then. You can start by not shaming men when they do so. Of course, I understand, these are not the topics nor the things the feminist hordes want men to share and talk about – and so it must be ridiculed and shunned and shamed. Men need to open up more. Translated from feminist jargon into: Men need to listen to the problems of women with an open emotional response. Women listening to men opening up about their emotions get translated into feminist jargon as “Emotional Labour”. Because a feminist will be damned if the woman in a terribly oppressive heteronormative, quite probably white supremacist, definitively patriarchal relationship does the same thing that is expected of a man in such a relationship, which is to support ones partner, even during trying and troubling times. You see, men’s lack of male friends is a burden on women, as more than one article have told us in later years. Then again, other articles tell us that close male relationships is also a burden on women. Such is feminism. Men must never, under any circumstances, be allowed anything without first considering how it affects women. Evil, manipulative, oppressive and absurdly narcissistic, I would dub it. But then – I am naught but an oppressive tyrant, so I wouldn’t know. Obviously.

Hypocritical moral busybody arseholes with their stupid fucking virtue-signalling and hollow, vacuous and self-aggrandizing displays of lack-luster cluster-fuck B morality. Shut the fuck up. Fuck-face.

Anyway, on the flip-side of the crappy coin was the message constantly pumped into my veins like black-tar heroin that there is something divine, something fantastic and wonderful with women – all women. And it is the job of men – of boys and men, in actuality – to do all that they can to lift girls and women up, to sacrifice all that they can sacrifice in order to elevate women to godhood. Of course, I would come to learn later that this message only ever applied to feminist women, as feminism have no problems whatsoever with attacking, harassing, mobbing, bullying and de-platforming women who do not drink the feminist kool-aid, who do not partake in the feminist communion and their dogmatic sharing of victimhood within the sisterhood of esoteric knowledge.

Which in itself is grim and darkly humorous, as this harassment dealt to women who do not drink the feminist cyanide is the harassment feminist women claim they receive from all us horrible and terrible and toxic MRA’s… proving, perhaps, that good ol’ psychological projection of feminism.

That is to say: if a feminist accuse you or your group of doing something, it is something the feminist or their group are guilty of doing themselves. Be that in thought or action. Interesting to note is also that men are the ones who suffer the most online abuse, not women. Yet again – we focus only on ending it against women, given neither a fuck or a fart in regards to men. It is the constant grind, you know, as Anita Sarkeesian so daringly and courageously told the UN. Men need not apply to the UN. Or any human rights organization, for that matter. Men are not human beings.

You see: a woman is either in or out. That is – in with feminism, or cast out from feminism. A man, on the other hand, is never truly in. Being referred to as an “ally”, not a fully fledged member of the craptacular sisterhood, with all their flaws and frenzied claws. Split straight down the gender binary by the very forces that claim there is no differences between men and women.

Yet – if that is true – why, then, do the esoteric sisterhood of high-flying morality demand this clear and distinct separation between men and women within feminism itself? Surely – there would not be any need for a distinction between men and women, were there really no differences to speak of? A man would be a full-fledged member, not merely an “ally” to the noble cause. Though, of course, he is one of the tainted ones; an enemy from the opposing tribe. And as such, may never be trusted. For he is not of the true flab-and-roll… nor one of the true ham-sandwich.

An individual man may be trusted… somewhat. As long as he proves himself, time and time again, by falling on his face and kissing the dirt upon which the exalted ones walk. And the exalted ones can publish, with impunity, articles with titles such as “Why can’t we hate men?”, then get offended when they receive pushback on such clear and obvious bigotry and hatred. This is further proof of oppression of women, dont’cha know. Of course, this was not a real feminist. Or not real feminism. Or not “my feminism”. Deflect, neglect, refuse, and carry on as though nothing happened. For this hatred is real feminism, and anything else is a diversion.

This submission to the sisterhood is not all that difficult to get, grab or demand when the message is beat into the scrawny brains of young kids or teens through education-rigmaroles. Political indoctrination far better – and even more terrifying – than any totalitarian government would ever have been able to manage, no matter their tyranny and no matter their commitment to spreading the false-flag truth. For this is playing on core aspects of biology… men in general and their desire to provide for and to protect women is a force to be reckoned with. As is, I believe, the desire in women in general to be provided for and to be protected by men. Though feminism claims otherwise, it kinda falls flat on its pimpled face and freckled hair-dye the moment one takes a look at the wage-gap lie, understand where it is truly coming from, and then take a peek and a gander at the recent assault of angry asinine articles blaming men for making less than women now, and as such not being suitable marriage material for prosperous young women who are strong and independent, but still want a man that earns as much – or more – than she does. How can he possibly protect and provide, if she is the main breadwinner, and he is not?

The message does not change. It never will. For the message is clear. If men earn more than women, men hurt women. If men earn less than women, men hurt women. If men are not open about their emotions, men hurt women. If men are open about their emotions, men hurt women. If men have few close male friends, men hurt women. If men have lots of close male friends, men hurt women.

Core message being: men hurt women. No matter what. Trickling all the way from feminist-infected pedagogy to the upper reaches of our flaccid political system, this message is delivered as truth-without-doubt. Men hurt women. No matter what, when, how and where, men hurt women. And if you object, you are a man guilty of hurting women.

We need not put an end to violence, see. We need to end men’s violence against women. Despite men being victims of violence far more than women are. And that is violence from both men and women. Believe it or not, but women are very much capable of violence. That men suffer more violence from both men and women could not possibly mean anything other than this: both men and women who are prone to being violent would rather be violent against men than against women.

Only the lowest of the low would dare to be violent against a woman. Whereas violence against men is so commonplace that we don’t care when it happens, no matter how it happens. Or the age of the man… or boy.

I don’t think it is all that weird to get pissed off at this message that we need to end violence against women, when men are the main victims of violence. Granted, I don’t think we should focus on ending violence against men either… I believe it would be better to just focus on ending violence full stop. Now, this will never happen. It is a utopian ideal. Violence is not something that ever will be completely done away with. No matter the sex of victim or perpetrator. This should not mean that we should not attempt to understand the reasons for violence in a light not tainted by the ideological lens of feminism, who blames the patriarchy, masculinity and therefore – by proxy – all men for all acts of violence… even violence committed by women.

Perhaps viewing the problem and seeking solutions through a lens of objective neutrality, not ideology, would deliver better answers and solutions.

…But, ya know, this is just the ramblings of a mad and angry straight white male on the internet! And that is one of the most dangerous beings there are, in this honky-tonk clown-world of ours. As such, it can be dismissed by pointing to the colour of my skin, the sex of my poor, miserable, abused and doubtlessly enslaved spouse and my bottom-heavy, pendulous balls. For that is an argument with much reach, truth and reason.

Honk honk.

And shut the fuck up, fuck-face.

It is a strange thing for a movement supposedly meant to make things as gender-neutral and as equal as could be to ignore the segment of society that is most at risk for violence when calling for an end to violence. Yet, that is how it is, was and ever shall be; never mind the men, even when they are the majority of victims. For the resources, the empathy, the all and everything most go to the minority of victims. The majority must do for the minority, even if that means the majority of victims being left to bleed out and die in the ditches for having to make room for the minority of victims. The aristocracy are more important, without a doubt. The plebs and peasants are of no consequence.

…and that is the message we deliver to little kids. And expect them to grow into fully functional human beings; boys designed and engineered to become men who will sacrifice their all for girls and women… who in turn grow up feeling entitled to this, that and the other… into egotistical hubris where they don’t ever need to do anything for boys or for men, even showing basic empathy. They must only care for and do for themselves. All else is emotional labour and other such nonsense. For they have been told all their lives that they are victims of the malicious forces of misogynistic maladapted males. And boys have been told all their lives that they are – whether consciously or not – an oppressive force of malicious misogynistic maladapted maleness for which they must atone and repent all their lives… and prove their atonement, their repentance, through sacrificing everything for girls and for women. Over and over and over again. Then, when we dare get angry at this blatant bigotry, double-standard and hypocrisy, the feminist powers that be dare point their fingers at us and state that they were right all along – this reaction to their assertions prove their assertions without a shadow of a doubt. So give them even more power, money and so-and-such, pretty please with sugar on top. And a side-serving of awesome trembling neoteny designed to make any male, whether blue-pilled or not, tremble and fall to his knees, begging forgiveness for his sins.

Which is why, I believe, it is considered quite alright to have positions either in education or in employment open only for women if the majority therein are men. The opposite is frowned upon and considered illegal discrimination based on sex. Discrimination in favour of women is considered “positive discrimination”. An odd turn of phrase, I would have to admit. For within that phrase is the quite clear and obvious admittance that they are completely aware of the discriminatory nature of this, yet they consider it positive and so it is quite alright and just and reasonable. Because of course it is. For reasons of the moon being aligned with Mars. And you can not argue with that logic.

Some victims of obvious discrimination are less victims than other victims of perceived discrimination. All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others. And women are the most equal of all animals. Whereas men are barely even animals.

It is very strange to me how and why it is considered OK to deliver the message of the moral inferiority, the wickedness and cruelty of masculinity to school-children… how the feminist indoctrination-squad and inquisition are allowed to spread this vile hatred of boys and men in schools… to both boys and girls. Without giving a single thought to how much this could negatively impact the self-image of boys… creating a generation of boys and young men who are lost within themselves, dancing here and there, hither and dither, with no real semblance of self for what is their true self has been painted, tainted and distorted into something wicked and evil… a generation of boys and young men made to be ashamed of their sex, their sexuality and themselves in turn. Ever and always doing whatever they can to prove that they are not that man, but that they are, in fact, this other man. All the while experiencing that the message delivered does not equate to reality. Without seeing it properly.

For all around them, everyone says the same, delivers the same message: the feminine is good, the masculine is bad. This despite neither being good or bad… merely two neutrals in a world that is grey, chaotic neutral itself… two forces meant to cooperate and coexist within a shared space where they were not meant to go to war, but were forced to go to war through the might and awesome influence of a subversive and seductive ideology that preys on the very nature and core identity of both boys and girls, men and women.

…As much as the term “Red Pilled” has become tainted and perverted by this succulent ideology, it is an important thing. And the message to be spray-painted on every wall there is ought to be one that says, in no uncertain terms: “Take the Red Pill. Fuck-face.”

For some reason, when boys and men are the core target for societal scorn and ridicule, neglect and destruction, we accept it and we celebrate it. We nod in agreement and do all that we can to implement the changes and the re-education. As long as it is only boys and men that need to change. Girls and women are perfect just the way they are. As long as they eat the pestilent cookie of feminism, of course, and bask in their perceived victimhood as much as humanly possible.

Boys and men, on the other hand, need to acquire worth, need to prove themselves worthy. And this is done through living in service to girls and women.

Or, well, not necessarily in service to girls and women, but in service to feminism. For feminism is the word of the day, the vague thing that is in vogue… an ideology built entirely around hatred of men and fear of masculinity, though presented as nothing but seeking equality between the sexes, with merely a few extreme and radical outliers partaking in the daily hatred and shaming of men and masculinity.

That is, oddly enough, a few extreme and radical outliers that write the books and create the studies and the courses and the thoughts for the next generation of brainwashed and indoctrinated children to spread further into the mess and tangled wires, to wreak havoc and spread hatred and violence wherever and whenever. As long as the targets for hatred and for violence are boys and men. For boys and men are the enemy, and will forever remain as such; a smear upon the face of the earth that is to be eradicated or incarcerated, or both.

And that is it for this ramble. Join me next week for more rambling on why I am an anti-feminist. When this lengthy ramble is done, (if ever it will be) I hope to channel my pestilent writing-talent (what little there is of it) and searing rage into things of a more healing nature… that is, issues affecting boys and men and possible solutions to it. For I am well aware that not all the issues of boys and men are the fault of feminism. But feminism is getting rich and fat on neglecting the suffering of boys and men, of propping themselves up as the only voice allowed to speak on behalf of both women and men and the tainted term equality. Standing on the corpses of men, as it were. And, as such, it is a force to be reckoned with as well as a force to be attacked. As it stands, they have almost succeeded in elevating themselves above and beyond criticism. And this can not be accepted. Particularly not when their hypocrisy is as blatant as it is to anyone able to peep through the looking-glass. Now, I will not stop writing about feminism. I just aim to not make it my main focus. Until next time. Remember to honour your beard, gentlemen.

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 23.11.2019

Lonely Trainstation Blues – Poetry for the Lost Boys, Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZB6K2JX
Lonely Trainstation Blues – Poetry for the Lost Boys, Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1692495518

Howling at a Slutwalk Moon, a collection of previous blog posts:
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Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
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Vol 2 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075723078

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