Illustration: «Mechanics of Utopia», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere
I remember, back in the day when people actually watched television instead of either laughing at it in perplexed ridicule or throwing it out the window in astonished horror, watching the show “Extreme couponing” with a female acquaintance of mine. Now, for those of you who have not had the pure unhinged bliss of watching this shit-show, allow me to explain: mainly, it focuses on bored housewives extremely couponing to the max, filling their homes with various goods bought in severe quantities through the magic of couponing. The coupons were painstakingly cut from a wide array of newspapers and the like, often with begrudgingly given help from the rest of the family. Of course, I have to admit that the amount of work and pure mental focus that went into these couponers and their extreme couponing was impressive; the calculations and the ability they showed in keeping track of all the different coupons and so forth and so on was no small feat. That is, of course, if it was all real. Which, given that this was (or is – I have no idea whether or not it is still running) reality television, is certainly not a certainty.
The pretence was of course that it was economically advantageous – not wasteful in the least, but very smart financing. Considering, however, that quite a few of the homes we were presented in this show more likely than not would have been featured in the show “Hoarders: Buried Alive” if the winds had blown differently, I would dare make the claim that it was wasteful. When presented with people buying dogfood in massive quantities when they did not even have dogs for the simple reason that it was cheap, I think that is pretty god-damned wasteful. Other people with dogs would probably like to buy that cheap dogfood, you know.
Now, to be fair, quite a few of the participants in this show donated a lot of what they bought to charities and the like. It’s not all bad. Well, it is reality television, so one could argue that it is all bad.
In this episode I watched with this female acquaintance of mine, the wife in the household had completely taken over the entire house with various and sundry, cheaply bought or gotten for free with coupons. The husband in this episode was – understandably so – getting a bit fed up with it. Maybe even feeling that he was being buried beneath the severe weight of consumable items which may or may not be consumed in the future. They had a deal that he would get one room to himself, free from all the hoarded goods of his wife. That is one room, in the entire house, that was not overflowing with cheap consumer goodies of variable and speculative quality. As one would expect, it did not take long before the hoard started creeping into his one room; into his sanctuary, if you will. He was not pleased with this, as one would expect. And so he confronted his wife about this, stating that the deal was that he would get this one room to himself. To which my female friend said, and I quote: “Wait, what does she get then?” And I was gobsmacked and astonished. “She gets the entire god-damned house”, I said. To which my friend did not reply, but gave a sort of grumbled grunt of disapproval. She had no retort, of course, but it was clear that she did not approve of him having room for himself in his own home. That, I assume, would be too much to ask. There was no room for the husband and his wishes in this relationship. The home is the domain of his wife, and he had damned well better be aware of it. The level of entitlement in this is absurd. Cooperation be damned; both parties agreeing and both parties compromising, sacrificing some of theirs for the other and thusly for both – or all – be doubly damned – it was all about the wife.
And that is the level we are at. Respect is a one-way street. And the street points solely towards the woman, with the man expected to sacrifice and to give up his all for her wishes and well-being and her wishes and well-being alone.
Which brings me to the complex question from the chronically cerebrally constipated: “Have you no respect for women?” What a stupid fucking question that is.
Have you no respect for men?
I don’t think I have ever heard anyone ask that question. Respect is not something one should receive by virtue of the random genetic mish-mash of ones birth. Respect is earned. This is not to say that I treat people I do not know disrespectfully. Of course not; I treat people I do not know properly and with respect, no matter their gender. The respect I have for them may grow or may diminish. This depends very much on how much respect they show me, how they behave, and various other factors. What it does not depend upon, however, is gender. This, I would think, is treating the genders equally. Which, I believe, is what we are supposed to do. Of course, and as all those who have woken up one morning to find a bitter red pill caught in their throat know, this is not the case.
A study found that women and men alike perceived men treating women as they would other men to be misogynistic. Which would be interesting knowledge, were it not for the fact that it is blatantly obvious to anyone not currently having their head stuck up the ass of ancient chivalry: “ https://uwspace.uwaterloo.ca/bitstream/handle/10012/6958/Yeung_Amy.pdf?sequence=1 ”.
If one is to dole out respect solely based on genetics, I think the aristocracy is not as far behind us as we would like to believe. The lords and ladies of high birth and good genetic stock deserve more respect than us common pleebs, us peasants, us unremarkable serfs of the mud and the fields. That is to say: the ladies of high and noble birth, by the vague virtue of vulva, deserve respect granted them upon birth whereas the lowly men of low birth and bad genetic stock need to earn respect through deeds done to bypass the totalitarian terror of testicles. No respect granted here by birth. Nothing but shame and humiliation for the crimes of the swinging cock and pendulous balls, lest he proves himself worthy of respect. Mutual respect ought to be the buzzword of the day. We get “Respect whamen!” instead. And to hell with the men, they don’t deserve respect, they must earn respect. And that respect must always be earned and re-earned through toil and sacrifice. Toil and sacrifice, I might as well add, which is never good enough.
Respect by noble birth for one.
Respect by noble deeds for the other.
And the noble deeds are never good enough, it must be done and done again and done to death until he dies, constantly proving himself worthy so that he may bask in the light of her countenance.
To be perfectly honest, I would not have much of a problem with men earning respect were it not for the one-sidedness of the thing. I tend to take a lot of pride in what I do, no matter how little impact that has or how little it amounts to in the grand scheme and schism of things. And I see very little reason to take pride in being born male. Random chance is such a weird thing to take pride in. By the same metric, I of course see no reason to be ashamed of it. Random chance is just as weird a thing to be ashamed of as it is to be proud of. It is just something that happened, and that is all there is to it. It is what one does with what is handed to one which deserves recognition or ridicule. And a woman screaming in my face that I have to respect her does little to make me respect her. Quite the contrary. This behaviour very much lends itself to ridicule. But then, that would clearly be misogyny for the lack of respecting whamen for the sake of being whamen, never-minding the fact that a man doing the same would not make me respect him either. Well, frankly, a man doing the same to another man – or woman – would probably soon find himself on the receiving end of a good old fashioned ass-whooping. Must be that male privilege the feminist hive-mind of virtue and vulva and virtuous vulva go on about.
Treating the genders differently is A-OK, you see. As long as you do it proper. And what is proper unequal treatment of the genders? Well, treat her good and treat him bad. Grant her respect for being born a woman, grant him disrespect for being born a man. That is how you go about doing that. As in the extreme coupon-hoarder example above. He respected her wishes and her happiness enough to grant her the entire house for her, excepting one room. And she respected herself enough to infringe upon his room, disregarding his wishes and his happiness in the process. Apparently, this behaviour is quite alright, as my female acquaintance did not even consider her having the entire god-damned house dedicated to her interest, passion, hobby, hoarding, whatever, as her having something whereas his desire to have one room free of the accumulated hoard of this barbarian queen-conqueror was a manifestation of his inherent selfishness and entitlement for being male. This, I would dare claim, is what one could easily refer to as female entitlement; a relationship where he sacrifices so she shall be happy. A relationship where he must sacrifice because she must be happy. And where she need not even grant him room for himself and his interests and hobbies in a home which is supposed to be a shared space where both shall live together and be fulfilled together, each one giving and receiving in equal measure…
Alas, no – he must give, and she must receive, otherwise he is the selfish and entitled one.
It is absolutely astonishing.
And yet, that is the level we are at. That is the world which we inhabit, where notions of mutual respect and mutual adoration, of cooperation and compromise go swirling down the drain along with his receding hairline; a hairline probably receding from the stress of having to sacrifice all the time, showing respect and sacrifice solely for the chance of being granted, from time to time, the boon of fornication. Heterosexual fornication, I must add, which is of course rape by definition according to the thought-leaders of the feminist idiocracy, most of whom have made it abundantly clear that any act of penile penetration of the vagina is rape, no matter the consent of the woman. Because, as the holy feminist orthodoxy teaches us: women are just too damned stupid to think for themselves and must therefore follow the laws as laid down by their supreme Queen Bee Superiors of the elucidated hive. Being a woman, the feminist hive-mind concedes, you have no choice in the matter no matter your choice in the matter.
Were I cynical, I would have to admit that these feminist thought-leaders were hurt at some point or other in their lives, and as such use their preposterous positions of academic privilege and power to reap bloody vengeance upon the world by projecting their own personal insecurities onto every woman and man there is, howling at the moon-goddess Luna that “I was hurt, so everyone else must be hurt as well!”.
Of course, I am not a cynic. I am more of a realist. And being a realist, I will have to admit that these feminist thought-leaders were hurt at some point or other in their lives, and as such use their preposterous positions of academic privilege and power to reap bloody vengeance upon the world by projecting their own personal insecurities onto every woman and man there is, howling at the moon-goddess Luna that “I was hurt, so everyone else must be hurt as well!”.
One-upping the patriarchy one unresolved childhood-trauma at a time!
Oh, man, is that rude of me?
Is that not proper etiquette and conduct of a gentleman in the presence of a lady?
One would assume that claiming every husband rapes their wife every time they fuck is also rude. A gentleman might be led to believe that labelling every man who enjoys conjuring forth the beast with two backs with the enthusiastic and appreciative cooperation of his lady a vile rapist, as well as his lady a victim of rape too stupid to realize her victimization, is an act of incredible rudeness and character assassination.
Forsooth, vile lady of the night! Thou hast insulted mine honour as well as mine ladies honour! I challenge thee to a duel. I chose rapiers at dawn!
For some strange and inexplicable reason, I can hardly imagine that these vile cretins will ever be successful in having people stop fucking. Might as well tell us not to breathe, for all the good it will do. The quest goes on, of course – the eternal quest to make people stop enjoying the very simple, yet profound, pleasures of sex.
Instead of it being rape by definition, it is now men being too selfish in bed. Men doing this wrong or doing that wrong, never once acknowledging that perhaps and perchance the woman should do more than just lie there and expect the man to do all the work, as well as reading her mind because she can’t bring herself to tell him what she does or does not enjoy. It is always and ever his fault and only his fault.
And the fairer sex is just so much more complex and complicated than the primal beast which just so happen to share her bed, and as such he must learn how to please her, and she need not learn how to please him. Because that would be an act of uncivil barbarism – that would be subjugation to the patriarchy, and we can’t have that, can we?
Of course, he must not find pleasure in pleasing her as this article from Cosmopolitan so eloquently lays forth for us: “ https://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a9169991/why-guys-love-female-orgasms/ ” .
The article also states that there is nothing wrong with finding enjoyment in making your partner enjoy herself/himself. But it is wrong because the article has deemed it so. More of that doublespeak, please. I have not reached my double-plus-good limit yet today! It is phenomenal in its ability to blame and shame men, no matter what.
Clinical insanity would be my term of choice, were it not for the fact that we already have the proper term “feminism” to describe this level of delusion, entitlement and wretchedness. She is entitled to an orgasm. He is not entitled to enjoy her having an orgasm. Because reasons. And here I sat, thinking that sex was supposed to be just as much a give-and-take as relationships are supposed to be, a little tit for tat – heh – a little game where both parties win some and lose some in a perpetual cycle of cooperation and communication. But, nope, of course not. The feminist hive-mind of decrepit ineptitude have decided that fucking has to become a competition just as much as any other relationship has to be a competition. Men and women are not supposed to cooperate. They are supposed to compete, in every facet of their lives. The personal is, after all, supposed to be political. And the political is supposed to be personal. And therefore the feminist gobble-de-gook see no issues with bringing their politics into the love-and-sex life of other people.
There is no need to cooperate, no need to contemplate, no need to talk and to come to terms with one another in the relationship. She must have all, and he must have none… And even if she should get all, he must still give more because what he does is wrong, no matter what he does or how he does it. And she must not be expected to tell him clearly and concisely what bothers her. He must be expected to read her mind and know, without fault, what is wrong. Because that is how communication works, is it not? One way street, one way town, one way shit-show staining the entirety of human civilization and tearing away at the foundations of relationships which ought to be mutual cooperation, mutual respect, mutual consideration, mutual love, mutual adoration and mutual god-damned fucking compromise. And that is mutual god-damned fucking compromise, even if it refers to fucking.
And I find myself wondering; for all this talk that women and their sexuality is so complex as opposed to the supposed simplicity of male sexuality… for all this talk that men need to learn how a woman’s body functions, what all the different levers and buttons and switches do, and how they do it… How many of these women have bothered to learn how a man’s body operates? How many have bothered to ask their man what he enjoys, what he would like, what he would want to try, what makes him tick? Or are they simply lost in the clogged up drain of nonsensical propaganda promoting, simply, that men and the sexuality of men is so simple, primal and – at heart – violent that there is no need to learn or understand it? One does not need to understand primal violence. One needs to fear it. And that is the picture feminism have painted of men and of male sexuality; a primal, simplistic, reptilian force to be feared and shunned. In so doing, they have elevated feminine sexuality and debased masculine sexuality in a way that sounds remarkably traditional in its view of both men and of women. Who would have thunk it? Feminism being traditionally gynocentric, reaching back into our shared history of the sanctified woman whose honour must not be despoiled by the undignified male! It is almost as though feminism is manipulating the very nature of humanity, our very biology, which they of course claim is not real. Who would have thunk it, indeed!
See, I had absolutely no issues with learning what made my wife tick. Quite the contrary – I found it a very pleasant exploratory experience. Granted, we have been together for twelve years so there have been plenty of opportunities to learn. The thing is that I expected of her to learn what made me tick as well. Which, of course, was an equally pleasant exploratory experience. Because that is what a relationship is supposed to be; communication, exploration, and loads of fucking fun while doing so. As well as, hopefully, loads of opportunities to do so.
As the thing is at the moment, in our current cultural fever-dream, the focus is solely on her wants and her needs, and his wants and his needs being disregarded completely due to the demand for supposed equality. Forget his needs, ladies – but demand your needs be met. And then complain that he is a sexist piece of shit for enjoying himself while meeting your needs. Making sex less enjoyable, one confusing and jumbled mess of an article contradicting itself constantly at a time. What a way to stick it to the man! The most eloquent case of confused nonsense I have ever seen this side of a European Union debate.
So, boys, next time you are with your lady – just don’t bother giving her an orgasm. Because that act is in itself wrong. Or, well, you may give her an orgasm. Just don’t enjoy yourself while you’re at it. But, of course, make sure she enjoys herself. Even if she’s not supposed to, really, enjoy it, despite sex being liberating. And don’t expect her to do anything to please you and you only, of course, because that would be rape. Which consensual heterosexual sex is anyway. So why bother with the thing at all? Just check out completely, and await the inevitable articles of “where have all the good men gone?” Which, of course, already exist in plentiful supply.
“Legion. For we are many.”
One could almost be inclined to believe that the sole purpose is to complain about men, and in so doing making men feel bad about themselves no matter what men do, urging them to constantly be and do better and in so doing driving themselves into the ground and into an early grave for never meeting the never-ending demands placed upon them, whilst being considered a vile and misogynistic cretin for daring to place the slightest of demand upon her.
Realization dawns, of course, that living in a culture in which complaining about and demonizing and ridiculing and belittling men as a group is not only tolerated, but expected and celebrated will cause crazy bitches to constantly complain about, demonize, ridicule and belittle men as a group while crying foul “sexism” at any objection to their clear and blatant sexism. All the while being cheered on as supposedly strong, brave, courageous and empowered women by society at large and the mass-media en masse for having the solid steel ovaries needed to assault the plague of the patriarchy.
Simultaneous realization dawns as well, of course, that living in this very same culture as a young man does nothing but harm him immensely, making him withdraw into himself and check out of society completely, losing himself in video games and in video porn, in drug-and-substance abuse, thinking that he does not fucking matter anyway, so why bother trying to make himself matter? Why bother, really, doing anything at all? Just waste the days away until death. It’s not as though there is something out there for him anyway.
All the while he is doing so, he keeps feeding the exuberant joy of articles from holier-than-thou journos proclaiming loudly the death of men and of masculinity as a victory for equality. Equality is only equal when she comes out on top, of course.
Because war is not about compromise or cooperation, but about victory. And feminism declared war on men and on masculinity, completely neglecting what normal human beings want and need because feminism is the one true path towards enlightenment and full-scale societal meltdown. All other voices be damned – they do not know what they want, really.
“Forgive them. For they know not what they do”, they whisper as the machines of war roll into town; a machine being fed by, and having its wheels greased with the blood and wasted lives of young men.
And, clearly, I am sexist against women for stating this. I am a horrible misogynist for daring to show empathy for men and for demanding the feminist hive-mind start getting to work on treating the genders equally, as they claim to do. Because one can not demand preferential treatment based on gender and claim this to be equal treatment. One can not treat one gender as shit to such an extent that it is commonplace; commonplace to such an extent that people do not see it because they are so incredibly used to seeing it. One can not label one genetic group as sub-human under the guise of equality and expect people to not catch on to the bigotry and supremacy at show. One can not force someone naked into a blizzard and then complain when they knock at the door, demanding to be let in.
If you want to be treated as a queen, you damned well better treat your man as a king. Mind you, the same goes for men. This should go without saying, but since we are in the midst of a manufactured gender war, it has to be spelled out. Because some of us actually hold true to our heart that men and women should be treated equally and given equal consideration in all aspects of their lives. And those of us who do this, do not label ourselves as feminists.
At the end of the day, I don’t believe that labels should matter. Actions should. That is where the action is. Actions speak louder than words, and for all the talk of the feminist skull-fuckery that they are only seeking equality, their actions show – very clearly – that their intent is the opposite. That is, if one has eyes willing to open instead of ears constantly lapping up the propaganda; if one has a mind willing to analyse the actions and see how the actions clearly contradict the words, instead of just going with the flow of the social zeitgeist under pain of social death.
Since up is down and down is up, since black is white and white is black, as opposed to just being aspects of the whole, in our present moment of confused and jumbled myriad mumbo-jumbo equality-hoaxes brought on by trickster-goddesses of academic craptitude, any empathy shown to boys and to men need be spelled out as not being an attack on girls and women. Equal treatment no longer equals equal treatment. It equals traditional expectations from men times a thousand, and full frivolous freedom for women from any and all expectation and responsibility and consequences of their actions. If one is to treat the genders equally, one would not be amiss to consider that women and men should both be responsible for their actions, and as such also be responsible for keeping the other party happy – as well as keeping themselves happy – in a relationship. A relationship consists of more than one person, and when only one person gets the message that only this person needs need be met and the other person gets the message that only the other persons needs need be met, the relationship can never function. Because one party will always be subject to expectations and demands galore, and the other party will always be subject to their expectations and demands galore be met unquestioning, lest they be considered oppressed.
This is the society which feminism has built, where relationships are considered a battleground, not a diplomatic and peaceful conference, and where one party has the upper hand from perceived oppression which in turn causes severe entitlement that her needs be met and him having needs and expectations at all is painted as him being oppressive and abusive, even if all he wants is room for himself in his own home.
On a side-note: I actually got verbally assaulted once upon a time, by a feminist who had no business what-so-ever saying anything about our relationship, for daring to say that my then-girlfriend was pretty. This was, apparently, a horrible affront. And I wonder, if men were to stop telling their women that they look good, what would happen then? After all – telling them that they look good is, apparently, a bad thing to do. Since that, to their warped mind, means that one does not see any other qualities but aesthetics in ones woman. Because feminism is incapable of nuanced thinking. (Whilst claiming other people lack nuance. Projecting much?) There are layers upon layers upon layers in every person, and complimenting one layer does not mean, to anyone but the feminist hive-mind, that one disregards the other layers.
I’m sure my wife would love it if I stopped paying her compliments on her appearance. From now on, it will only ever be clinical, cold and professional compliments from me. “You are very good at mopping the floor, dear wife whom I consider equal in all things.” Or is that misogyny as well? “You are very good at letting me mop the floor, dear wife whom I consider equal in all things.”
There, that’s better. After all – she must not do housework under any circumstances, as that emotional labour is a tool of the patriarchy. Or could it be that both parties do housework and that how one shares this god-damned thing is up to the people in question to decide, not the feminist busybodies from up high?
Not to mention, of course, the incredible rudeness in trying to control the dynamics of someone else’s relationship. Now, we should all know that feminism consists in large part of moral busybodies; the constantly complaining neighbour always peeking over the garden-fence or through the curtains, following what their neighbours do with severe efficiency and bombastic judgement, ready, willing and able to, at a moments notice, give them a piece of their mind for no other reason than personal disapproval. And this is personal disapproval filtered through nothing but their own tumultuous inner world of personal grievances projected onto other people existing within the world as nothing but empty vessels projected by her own uncertainties. I can see no other explanations for this behaviour, for this inability to comprehend that other people chose to live their lives in a different manner than they do, than severe difficulty in comprehending that other people simply are other people making other choices and finding joy in other things.
To think that people who make small and, in many ways insignificant, choices different from ones own in how they live their lives must be told to live differently is very totalitarian thinking. It is the notion that only one way to live is the correct way to live, and that micro-managing the relationships of other people must be done so other people – in this instance a women who had to suffer the horror of me telling her she was pretty – shall be free of the tyranny of men.
This is immensely frightening.
Not only was I painted as something of a tyrant for doing nothing but giving my girlfriend a compliment, but she in turn was painted as a weak and pathetic victim, unable to speak on behalf of her self and so needing someone more knowledgeable, wise and powerful to speak on her behalf, even if she did not want or need anyone to speak on her behalf because she was happy being given a compliment on her appearance.
This is the feminist view of relationships and of men and of women. And for some reason these people are the ones we are supposed to listen to in regards to all thing sex, gender and relationship; the ones painting everything in a relationship as a man doing something to a woman and a woman passively, albeit reluctantly, submitting to what he does. Even when she is told she is entitled to everything, and he is entitled to nothing.
In my view, it is very simple: for a relationship to function, all parties within must be functional. And for all parties within a relationship to be functional, each must talk, each must listen and each must be heard.
…If I am preaching anything in these long-winded and hop-scotching rambles of mine, I like to believe that mutual respect, cooperation and compromise is at the core of it all; that my message is one of balance, of individual freedom, individual choice and individual responsibility. Even – or probably especially – when it refers to the dynamic between men and women. We are meant to compliment and to fulfil each other, not to constantly be at each other’s throats as the feminist hive-mind has crafted the narrative.
There is no war between men and women.
The whole notion of this is, to my perplexed eyes and fracturing mind, nonsensical. There is a war instigated by feminism upon men and upon masculinity, and it has ben raging for quite some time, meeting close-to no pushback. It is about damned time that this changed. And this, I think, can only change through feminism losing its stranglehold on the discourse, through tearing down the monopoly feminism has gained on the subject of all things gender. In essence: to allow other voices to talk, to expect society to listen and to make damned sure the voices of men and of women that do not conform to the ideological purity of our day and age are heard. Until this happens, I fear the future of relationships – and of our entire world – is doomed.
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– Moiret Allegiere, 06.04.2019
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