The cultivation of fear. A ramble on forced fragility and manufactured frailty:

Make your own damn culture lowres

Illustration: «Make your own damn culture», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere.

 

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In some strange past I struggled with severe anxiety. It seems centuries ago now, looking at it with the beautiful lenses of hindsight. Understanding this type of anxiety is not easy. It should be experienced in order to understand it. Imagine being in a constant state of fight-or-flight, a body and a mind constantly tense; clockwork all wound up ready to spring into action – or retreat from action, sensing danger around every corner and in every shadow.

It should go without saying that this permanent stress, this level of heightened awareness in regards to ones surroundings, this constant over-thinking and over-analysing of situations in order to weed out any threats takes its toll on body and mind.

It is not pretty.

The results of this chronic stress, these sudden surges of adrenaline through the body, uncalled for, unwanted and unnecessary does not lend itself to good health, be that health physical or psychological. In the end, isolation seems to be the best and wisest choice to make. It seems to be the only option available; a survival tactic so as not to suffer the horrors of sudden panic, dread and despair. This just feeds the beast, as constant exposure to whatever triggers the anxiety is the only way to overcome the anxiety. Not isolation, but exposure. Isolation breeds further insanity – if you will allow me some self-deprecating humour.

The reason I am bringing this up is simple. It is the fostering and nurturing of fear, anxiety and dubious trepidation; the culture of fear crafted by feminism when gazing at the dynamics between men and women. The notion, disgusting as it is, that men and masculinity is something that women need to fear – that all men everywhere have nothing else on their mind but to assault and oppress women. It is a culture of fear, a bacterial culture handcrafted by the might and influence of an ideology whose very survival hinges on painting men as perpetrators and women as victims, forever and ever. Nurturing this fear and keeping women constantly on their toes for fear of men is not healthy. Not for women, not for men, not for society at large.

The rhetoric and false and cherry-picked statistics of feminism and their cohorts gave birth to a constant fear and mistrust between men and women. With the prime notion being that women need to fear men, and men in turn have nothing to fear from women. As the old saying goes, old as time itself: women good, men bad.

This is not, under any circumstances, a view of the genders as equal. Viewing the genders equally would be understanding – as stated time and again – that men and women both have the capacity for bad and for good. One is not worse or better than the other. Claiming that one is worse than the other, that one is better than the other, is quite the contrary of viewing and treating the genders equally. This is seen, time and again, in politics as well as the justice system, as women are given leniency in sentencing, whereas men are not. Harsher sentences for men for the same crimes as women. For women are wonderful. And men are not.

Female perpetrators of whatever crime are given excuses for their actions, more often than not. They need to be understood. Often they are painted as the real victim, because she must have been abused at some point in time. Probably by a man. Men who have been abused prior in their life, are not given leniency or understanding of the trauma. Men who do bad are simply monsters. Women who do bad are simply victims. Very peculiar.

In viewing men in this light, and women in the other light, there is no wonder that men are painted as monsters and, in being monsters, also being something that women need to fear. When men do bad – it is because they are, at heart, bad. And when one man is, at heart, bad, there is a possibility that all men are – that this is something that exist in the very nature of men. Men do bad because they are bad. Women do bad because they have been hurt by someone doing bad. And this is not equal treatment. All manner of mental gymnastics and round-about excuses do not detract from this simple fact.

When I struggled with this severe anxiety of mine – and it was severe, there is no doubt about that – it blew the fucking lid of the scales, and prompted my psychiatrist at the time to tell me that the best solution for me was isolation. Now, this is of course some terrible and horrible advice to give to someone when they are supposed to overcome some trembling and futile ailment of the psyche.

It is obvious to me now, when looking at it through a mind not muddied and clouded with medications, that he had completely given up on me – that he saw no future hope for me getting better and overcoming this nonsensical fear and trepidation of mine. It also went completely contrary to what I had read and heard about overcoming anxiety.

It is something that must be overcome through exposure, gradual at first and then – feet first into the murky and cold waters of society at large, to understand that my anxiety was driven by delusions crafted by prior experiences with people who did not – to put it lightly – wish me well or treat me well. Wallowing in these delusions did nothing but paint a picture in my mind of everyone being my enemy in some way, shape or form. When the reality is something else entirely. Most people are completely neutral towards me and my existence. Most people have more than enough with themselves.

That is the simple fact of the matter.

And so, what I did to conquer this anxiety of mine was some deep and thorough soul-searching combined with the aforementioned exposure. I had not then, nor do I have now, any interest in living a life of anxiety, fear and trepidation. And I should not wish this on anyone. Of course, I dropped any and all connection to psychiatry. To me, at any rate, they did far more harm than good.

The root cause of my issues was not examined at all. Merely a superficial fixing of the symptoms through medications and a call for isolation. Out of sight, out of mind. And me, then, through medications and maltreatment, even more out of my mind. But at the very least out of the sight of society at large. No exploration of my anxiety. No treatment either. No therapeutic path to walk, no deep dive into my psyche. Drugged into oblivion and washed away.

I can not help but think that my treatment would be far different and more empathetic had I been a woman and not a man. The emotional pain of men is something society does not wish to see. This goes for professionals as well. The emotional pain of women, however, is something society must band together to fix.

I remember reading an article, this was several years ago now. I could not dig it up if I tried. It was written by a man. The title was something along the lines of “Last night, I became a rapist”.

He did not become a rapist.

In fact, there was no sexual encounter at all.

What had happened was this: he was walking home, and was walking behind a woman who was scared of him, constantly looking over her shoulder and fearing this horrible man walking behind her. He solved this anxiety of hers by crossing the road and taking a detour on his way home so that she should not feel the discomfort of having to walk on the same pavement as a man.

Obviously, from having the same paranoid sensations myself whenever I was out walking by myself, I recognized her anxiety. And I remember thinking that he should not have to inconvenience himself due to her neurosis. He is not responsible for some random stranger and her anxiety. Had he just kept walking behind her, she could perhaps have learned something from the experience. She could have learned that not every single man out there is out to get her. She might have overcome some of the anxiety.

He ended the article, simpering and stupid as it was, by telling all men that if they walked behind a woman on their way home, they should cross the road and take a different route to get home so she should not feel this discomfort. How fucking ridiculous!

No-one ever did this for me when I was in the throes of some stupid delusional anxious fever-dream. That would be doing me a disservice. And it was doing her a disservice. And it is doing every man everywhere a disservice.

Go out of your way, men, to make the burden of walking home easier on women, lessening her neurosis for about two seconds. So she can go home and say that she was followed by some stranger on her way home, giving further credence to the feminist fear-mongering. Heh. I am saying this only partly in jest.

You have to make it harder on yourself, of course, as you have to take a detour. Then despair for being born a man and thusly the object of scorn and fear from women, who of course happen to be your superiors in every way, shape and form. What horrible objectification of men this is, viewing us as nothing but objects of terror and violence and primal sexual urges. Gaze upon the privilege granted us by being born men! The righteous privilege of being feared and shunned and scorned and ridiculed and demanded to sacrifice so that someone whom we have no ill intent towards shall feel safe based on her own neurotic delusions born from paranoid dementia in feminist rhetoric.

It is even more strange when considering the simple fact that men are far more likely to be the victims of violent assault from strangers than women are. This does not matter, of course, as we have been spoon-fed this silly lie that women are victims of violent men far more than men are. That men have nothing to fear, whereas women have all to fear. When a man attacks a woman, it is because he hates women. This is taking into consideration whether or not he has assaulted more men previously. As is very likely.

Men who experience violence is par for the course, commonplace, and something that is expected. Most every man will, at some point in their lives, experience violence. Usually from other men, this is true. I fail to see why this should matter, though. It only matters when one views the genders as being at war with one another. When men and women are on opposing teams, any violence done towards a woman by a man is an act of war, done because she is a woman and not for any other reason. In painting masculinity as toxic, any violence done upon a man by another man is further proof of the degeneracy of the opposing side. The language of feminism is the language of war-rhetoric. This side is degenerate scum, that side is pure and clean and just.

Women need not change the way they think. They need not become braver. They are free to wallow in their misery, their anxiety and their dread and mistrust of all men. Men must change the way they behave, even when it is a tiny minority of men doing bad, all men must rethink their lives and take collective responsibility for the actions of a few bad men. I fail to see how this is any different than claiming that the Jews have poisoned the well.

Women, whether as a group or as individuals, need not change a thing about themselves. The messengers of feminism have ridden into the town-square and read aloud a statement from the queen, proclaiming all women everywhere to be perfect just the way they are. No faults, no flaws, no nothing. And everything they feel is true, no matter if it is true or not. No matter if it is factual or not. There is no objective fact. All is based on subjective feeling. If you happen to be a woman. The experiences of men need not apply. Nor do the facts of the matter.

Fostering powerless women is the bread and butter of feminism, and so is forcing men to submit to the delusions of neurotic women instead of having these women face up to, understand and overcome this neuroticism of theirs. This neuroticism, this tactical usage of frailty and weakness and anxious trepidation is nothing but emotional manipulation. When you see women in positions of leadership – politicians – pretending to shake in their boots and in their knickers for some passing joke made by some passing man several months ago, it begs the question as to why anyone so frail and weak should be in that position to begin with.

One should think that anyone in a position of leadership, be they male or female, ought to be strong enough to withstand the storm. Of course not. Not when they happen to be a woman, whose frailty and weakness and fear and anxiety is nothing but a bargaining chip, a methodical manipulation of our emotions to feel pity for her and as a result of this barge in to her defence, preferably with votes or through her gofundme-account.

I should not think it too harsh a trespass on reason to actually want the leaders of a nation to be strong enough to handle a passing joke or comment without breaking down emotionally, without crying crocodile-tears and telling everyone around them how pitiful they are and how much we must pity them for having to deal with the brutish nature of these horrid men. The strength of these women are their facade of weakness. Being powerless, or rather – portraying herself as being powerless, means men barge in to protect and to provide, to save her from the horrors of being a woman in a male-dominated field. Whatever the hell that means. It is this stupidity, this nonsense, once again. This ridiculous fuckwittery of the genders being at war instead of in a state of co-operation. It bothers me, more than it probably should. Or, as my wife is wont to say, it should probably bother me way more than it does.

Alas, no – having strong and powerful leaders – that is not the beat of the funeral drum to which we march. We march beneath the banner of forced female fragility, to the tranquil rhythm of weaponized fear. The fear of men manufactured through decades of social engineering felt by all women everywhere, whose feelings are fact and not some hand-crafted frail fear and anxiety designed to gather our sympathies and our empathies and place them at their feet, to bow down before their emotional distress and say, singingly, soothingly, lovingly: “Sorry mother dear, we will behave”.

Being a man struggling with anxiety is not easy. See, there is no empathy nor understanding there from the concrete-jungles of society. Merely a push into the bubbling cauldron, boiling away at my sanity. The interesting part of it is that, of course, there must be this push, there must be this poke-and-prod to get out there and actually do something about it instead of isolation. Which is frantically fascinating to me. It is as though the behaviours were switched between the mental health professional who treated me and those around me, be they professional acquaintances or friends and family, with my psyche-docs telling me to hide away and the ones who did not understand the thing pushing and prodding, in short telling me to “man up”.

Now, this pushing and prodding did not come from a place of empathy – that much was certain, as there was no understanding of the anxiety nor any attempt to understand why I suffered this anxiety. Nothing but disbelief. And of course, the usual sentiment that I was making it up. For what gain, I never understood.

Grown men should not act like that, and so the only thing left to do was to dive into shallow waters, head first, and break my neck on impact. Then one is just left with confusion, with constantly changing messages, trite trash and a complete lack of understanding and empathy.

Men must talk about their emotions more. Even when men need not talk about their emotions. In particular not when in emotional distress or suffering emotional weakness. There is no-one there to listen. Men in emotional distress breed disgust. Particularly in the minds of those who claim to fight for equality. Telling men to open up about their emotions, and then poo-poo it as being nothing when they do creates confusion and inner turmoil.

What the old “men need to be more emotional” actually mean is for men to listen more to the emotions of women, and speak of their own emotions only in a manner deemed suitable by feminism. Which translates to admitting to their male privilege and toxic masculinity; that all the emotional distress a man may feel is born from him being a man, and nothing more. Seeing how society treat women in emotional distress in comparison to how society treat men in emotional distress is disconcerting, to say the least. Experiencing it first-hand upon ones mind and body is something else entirely, and teaches one nothing but the simple fact that one is all alone. No-one is looking out for you, even when they claim to be looking out for everyone equally.

Nurturing and fostering delusional anxiety and fear in women the way feminism does is damaging. Creating this mirage, casting this holographic picture over all of society that what any woman may feel is real, no matter the facts and the reality of the situation is severely damaging. It is also incredibly dangerous. To all but feminism, who thrive on female victimhood and see no qualms in manufacturing this fear, these delusional anxieties and holding them up, waving in the wind, as some sort of strength in women instead of it being a weakness, as some manner of fact instead of delusion.

Trembling in anxiety from someone telling a joke is not being strong. It is being severely weak. As well as lacking in humour and understanding of humour. Of course, they paint it as strength by the woman withstanding the horrors of man-joking, man-spreading, man-splaining, man-slamming, man-terrupting, man-existing or whatever. Then she gathers empathy and understanding by the bucket-load, further creating a wall between them and any criticism they may encounter by painting any-and-all criticism as an attack on all women everywhere and playing on the gynocentric nature of us all in order to build human-shields around themselves so they are free to say and to do and to spew whatever abject hatred they wish without facing any repercussions for their actions.

Kill all men.

Men are trash.

And so forth and so on.

All this while trembling in forced fear and fragility; whilst screaming strength and powerful resistance to misogyny and the patriarchy, demanding protection and pampering from the patriarchy by the forces of patriarchal evil. For they are so strong, so powerful, so fantastic in their strength and endurance that they are too frail and weak to handle criticism without yelling and screaming about male chauvinism and a society that absolutely hates women, despite treating men like second-class citizens, ordered to go out of their way to better the existence of women and women only. So incredibly oppressed by the man that all of society only listen to feminism and women on issues having to do with sex and with gender. So oppressed by the evils that men do that they are in complete control of all our institutions. So oppressed, in fact, that merely a trembling finger in the direction of a conference on men’s issues is enough to shut it down for the controversy of the thing.

Strange, that.

In this society in which men have all the power and all the privilege, whereas women and feminism hold no power and no privilege, the mere trembled mutter from the quivering lips of a feminist is enough to close down conferences on issues affecting men due to controversy – or fear of controversy. How many hoops does one have to jump through in order to pretend that men are the privileged ones, when discussion of men’s issues not seen through the wrinkled binocular lenses of feminism are deemed controversial? One should think that it would be the other way around, were the rhetoric of feminism based on truth and not lies.

Feminism have told women that they must fear all men. Creating a hostile world for men is not a problem what-so-ever. Because that would be equality, that is the pinnacle of feminism, the perplexing wonder of its beacon, its shining light, its lonely kitten-wail into the night beneath the twinkling stars of ill intent. To create, to manufacture, to nurture and make bloom a constant fear and distrust of men in the hearts and minds of women, telling them that they are children in need of constant supervision, that the state need to step in and remove responsibilities from their shoulders and place ever more on the shoulders of men. And supervise constantly all doings, all goings, all lives, be they private or public. The personal must be political. The political must be personal. Such a frightening thing to see happen. Weaponized female fragility to allow the state to meddle even more in our lives and affairs. As long as women are kept safe.

As long as men don’t matter.

And we cope with it. And we accept it. And we bite the bullet, time and again. And we put up with it and we lay our lives and our mental health on the line. Over and over again. For the safety, the benefit, the protection of women. All the while these same women shout at us to do more, that we are dangerous, that we are a material manifestation of the wickedness of the world. That we need to disregard our own safety and our own needs so that the safety of women and the needs of women be met. By our hands, the world shall be saved from us. We do not need to talk about our issues. Because we have no issues, we have no problems, we have no societal ills eating at us, picking at us, devouring us bit by bit by bit, day by day. For all their impotent raving about toxic masculinity, the forces of feminism are sure as all hell good at telling men to man up.

If you give them an inch, they will take a mile. And then they complain that they never receive anything. And they twist and they turn and they spin on the truth until truth means nothing and facts are nowhere to be found and all is a confusing mess; a neurotic network of twisted cables and forced anxiety, a culture of fear handcrafted by ideologues whose collapsing sanity and frail weakness is painted as sanity, is painted as strength and as truth and as beauty.

Look at this weak-willed woman – how strong she is!

Look at this weak-willed man, how pathetic he is!

On and on it goes. The circle has no end and no beginning. It just goes on and on for ever. Unless it is broken. And it can only be broken by not playing this game, not partaking in this ridiculous clown-world reality of ours, where weakness is strength, up is down, down is up, strength is weakness, masculinity is toxic, even when masculinity is called forth to save the poor women who can never be toxic, unless influenced by some man more powerful than she is. Weak as she is, weak at the knees.

Let us all fall down on our knees and weep and tremble in fragile fear together.

The future of our societies is one in which anxiety, fear, trepidation and delusion is celebrated and shown to be strength. Where standing in the storm, surviving the trials of life by trudging ever forwards and not giving up, not giving in, but being strong in adversity is made out to be toxic behaviour.

Oh, mama, the path towards the future is paved with the frantic waving of anxiety; the celebration – not overcoming – of mental illness, a wallowing in fear and fever, in despair and weakness. Used to be we had to learn how to cope. Now we have to learn how not to cope. For if we cope, if we learn to cope and if we teach other people how to cope, the powerful will lose their power. For the powerful do thrive and grow on fear and fanaticism. There is much strength in female weakness. The sight of a woman in distress sends any man into protect-mode, running on overtime, and he will do whatever he can to save her from whatever imagined ill she is labouring beneath.

And the feminist hive-mind know this, even when they paint men as the enemy. They know that men will do whatever they can in order to ease the suffering of a woman. And they play and they prey upon this exact thing, upon this drive in men.

Too bad that so many of us are beginning to see this for what it is.

Too bad that more and more are waking up to this fact.

Even if it is slow-going.

Even if it takes forever.

Even if it will take an entire generation to undo the societal damage done by feminism, whose roar and screech and weaponized fear and weakness created a generation of perpetual victims incapable of looking at themselves, incapable of thinking inwards, incapable of doing anything but perpetuate the constant war, keeping the narrative going of men as the forces of evil and women as the forces of good.

We have always been at war with Eurasia.

War is peace.

Freedom is slavery.

Ignorance is strength.

The stability of feminism and their stranglehold on everything rely on keeping the status quo up and running; the view of men as eternal victimizers, strong and able and powerful, and women as perpetual victims, frail and weak and powerless.

There has to be a war between the genders. Otherwise, what is the point of feminism? Where should they then get their money, their power, their might, their influence? Where should they get their manipulative kicks and desires, if everyone woke up to this scam of theirs?

Just keep painting women as wonderful victims, then, and claim this to be strength.

Just keep painting men as horrible perpetrators, then, and claim this to be reasonable.

Just keep pushing for women to be treated better than men, then, claiming this to be equality.

Just keep telling the same old story; demonizing men and masculinity, sanctifying women and femininity, labelling it equal treatment.

Then wait.

Then look.

Then see what happens when your paper-castles crumble, your straw-men all fall down, and your gargantuan global industry comes crashing down around you to the sound of cheers and applause from those who finally woke up from their state-induced coma, driven, in no small way, by your propaganda.

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 – Moiret Allegiere, 25.05.2019

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On unfiltered thought-loops and “Read A Book”; A rant:

Awakening A3 lowres

Illustration: «Awakening», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

 

Through unfiltered thought-loops, we are sullied. Immature minds bent in on themselves; noticing nothing outside the cataclysmic echo-chamber of their preconceived virtue-jerk-off. A blast-off hyper-speed ejaculate aimed squarely at the begging eyes of twitter-raiders, wide-and-wild-eyed, part chaotic, part vivid, part vicious, completely melting down.

Pride, the saying goes, goes before the fall. Too bad we lost the fall in our quest to alleviate the slightest imagined or straight-up manufactured ill. All that is left is vague varieties of pride going before the pride. Never falling, never falling, merely floating in the forefront of our collective hallucination where pride perceived as a thousand trembling gazes from a thousand trembling followers is of more importance than truth, than reason, than facts, than compassion, than intelligence.

Much too bad and much too sad that we – societally – are all so lost within our own safe-space virtue-rambling parody of conduct and humanity that we forgot humility and bravery, that we forgot compassion and duality, nuance and complexity. We traded it for pride, for vacuum and immediacy, gave it all away for virtue, vanity and superficiality, never thinking that we ourselves may be in the wrong. Such a complex organism is society, that our brilliance is being passed off as bigoted supremacy, that mere wishes to remain unsullied, thoughtful, contemplative and true is viewed through a light-bending prism of academic, over-complicated, over-thought and, essentially nonsensical gobble-de-gook, through guilt-laden late night drunken ramblings on social media hastily gobbled up by followers unerringly attempting not to stay out of the loop, and in so doing agreeing with everything as long as the possibility not to be perceived as bigoted and hateful is there; that is to say: not being perceived as bigoted or hateful towards the wrong kind of people.

Yes; we must hate, we must scream and rage and roar at the dying of the light at the coming of the night! We must fix the hollow burnt-out shelter that is our empty lives through mass-release of anger and hopeless frustration by pointing fingers squarely at what we perceive to be the grand enemy of our time, of our day, of our age and of our society, stagnant, dull and boring as it is, was, and always will be, consistently consistent, stable, safe and eternally boring as only a long and drawn-out dinner at grandmas house may be! Revolution. For the hell of it!

Yes we must hate! Yes we must scream and roar and rage and demand to be heard, hard and definitive! Frightened by our own shadows, maybe, yet that may be nothing but proof positive of our terrible oppression, maybe? And when we hate, we do not hate as others hate. We do not bring our passions from a common spring, but from a well of neuroticism boiling underneath our skin and in our sullen swollen hearts and tongues and eyelids plastered to our face with cheap reality-distorting reality-television and daytime television talk-shows telling us how pitiful we are, is, always will be, maybe baby!

They do not hate as others do; they hate immediately and with the unbridled passion of a one-night-stand, unhinged, unfeeling, un-calculated and freaky-deaky beneath the sweat-stained sheets and cobwebbed walls of their safe and comfortable gated communities where nothing ever touches them but the fractured fragments of their belated, sheltered, severed upbringing and the fantasies and phantasms this brings with it in lonely midnight-wanderings beneath the bloodstained moon of their narcissistic tendencies!

And there’s pride and there’s virtue and there’s prideful virtue and virtuous pride born from boredom and a swollen, septic need for validation gone mad, gone feverish, gone blind in an artificial reality concocted by ideologues with an axe to grind and a chip on their shoulders, sheltered from the real world and absolutely incapable of inhabiting a social space not made for them and them alone, and so demanding change so they shall feel safe and feel included in a world they do not care to understand through anything but tall tales read from books and dusty tomes written by the same sheltered arrogant bastards that read them.

A self-fuelling perpetual cycle of hate and mistrust trickling down from those who deem themselves to be our moral and intellectual superiors, hidden as equality, masked as altruism, painted as a virtuous, true and noble quest for good and decent goodness and decency so that all that see it shall be blinded by its light, and so be unable to read what the scriptures say, the dusty tomes, the fractured minds, the sheltered and the hateful ones.

And those that are blinded by this light take to social media to spread the light of the malaise, to show how dignified, justified, compassionate and virtuous they are, and do not for one moment stop to think or stop to look or stop to ponder and consider, as that would take away from the immediacy of the event, the knee-jerk emotional goodie-goodie sensation of being right, of being moral, just and justified in moral, righteous hate and anger.

Loaded to the brim with grim sensations of something vaguely unjust, they charge full-frontally and unblinkingly, unthinkingly, unknowingly into the fray, battle-ready and grim-faced, proud and perceivably strong and brave and courageous in speaking truth to power. And then, meeting resistance where they do not expect resistance, they falter, they fall, they shake and tremble vividly and tremendously as no-one has ever called them on their bullshit before, and they are loaded with nothing but emotive garbage and the feeding-force of their echo-chambers, their pre-conceived notions and expectations falling to rot when presented with facts and figures telling truth unspoken by mass-media which would rather mass-manufacture mass outrage than accurately report anything at all, as mass-manufactured mass outrage sells and money talks, even for hardened anti-capitalists selling branded merchandise to fight the power fantastic!

Fucking fantastic!

But it feels so good to be right, and so they must be right, right? Right. Double-right, triple-and-quadruple-right, comrade, don’t let these misogynists, these white supremacists, these homophobic neo-nazi troglodytes take you down.

Just tell them to read a book.

A nice retort.

That’ll show them.

That’ll give them what for.

It does not matter what book. It does not matter. Just say “read a book”, as if that sentence in itself brings with it shame and ridicule for the unwashed masses who can not read, who can barely walk and breathe at the same time.

Read a book.

How fucking arrogant, how god-damned stupid, how inconceivably rude.

Well, then, allow me to immediately bring to the forefront of your empty-headed cerebral cortex one iota of truth, as I have seen this “argument” from the synthetic tribes of the social justice warrior armada more than once, more than twice, more times than I care to count: this is not an argument. This means absolutely nothing. This is nonsensical.

Fucking “read a book”. As if this washes away anything said in contradiction to your claims, you filth-monger, you dong-merchant, you snake-oil salesperson of ill repute!

To enter the land of rants for a short segment of my rambling diatribe; we would read books if you and your ilk did not constantly attempt to get them banned, you fearful mongrel bastards of a honey-dripping life of luxury and overabundance. What; should I not make assumptions on your lives? Well, fuck off – don’t make assumptions of me based on my genitalia and the colour of my skin then. You judgemental, bigoted racist extra-terrestrial busybody snowflakes of vacuous virtue and unharnessed cancerous insanity clothed as muh equal something-or-other.

Through the wondrous magic of mass-manipulated propaganda, it is considered provocative and controversial to even mention that boys and men struggle in this fragmented dribble-and-drool society of ours, if not seen through the lens of feminism where boys and men are painted, not as a problem, not as having problems, but as the problem inherent in the system. No wonder boys and men are pissed off when they see, time and again, the same faulty statistics, the same lies and the same peddlers of lies peddling said lies about who has it worse and who suffers and how evil and vile men and masculinity are. And when objecting to this with clear facts instead of frail flights of fancy, it does not matter and they are not heard nor replied to with anything but arrogant holier-than-thou rudeness from people claiming they are the ones being attacked when attacking an entire gender!

No wonder boys and men get pissed off when they are constantly told either that their problems don’t matter at all, or that they are the problem by virtue of being themselves. Telling an entire segment of the population, for decades, that they are not themselves, that their sensations of being manly – of being masculine – is wrong, is not them, is but an act; that they are the cause of their problems as well as all other problems, that they have to change in order to save the world… ridiculing an entire segment of the population when they attempt to bring up their very real problems, shaming them into quite quiet submission… laughing at them when they are victimized or when they attempt to bring attention to the suicide rates or to the injustices faced by them in a system which, purportedly, are set up so only they shall succeed, even when they fall off the grid and drift away eternally and see no help coming their way from the might of the powers-that-be that be supposedly there for their benefit and their benefit only…

No wonder, the state of it all.

And then the forces claiming to work towards equality mock and ridicule when attempts to bring up problems faced by other human beings seeking equal treatment as human beings; not accepting facts and figures contrary to their claims, but refusing to listen and refusing to understand based on nothing but the gender and the colour of the skin of the people responding to their ridiculous and disproven claims of unequal treatment, washing it all away with incredible contempt and fantastic rudeness, painted as fighting the power and as being the kind warriors for justice for all! All, of course, meaning everyone but boys and men. One can only assume that, since boys and men don’t deserve human rights, these forces for good do not consider boys and men to be human beings. Why else would they be so pissed off and so torn apart by a loose-knit movement seeking human rights for human beings?

Boys and men, according to the feminist hive-mind, according to society, according to our politicians and our teachers and our everything, do not have feelings, and are not human beings, and as such are not deserving of basic human compassion and understanding.

Merely shame, blame, neglect and an incalculable amount of vile rudeness, time and again being told that our problems do not matter, that shining a spotlight on our issues detracts from the issues of women which are – clearly – more important than the issues facing boys and men. And, obviously, stating that boys and men are human beings and so also deserving of human compassion and consideration is hating women.

Because the feminist movement hate men, so it is only natural for them to project this hatred onto the broader men’s movement, telling us in no uncertain terms that a movement for women think like this about men, therefore a movement for men must necessarily think like this about women. Minds bent in on themselves, undoubtedly incapable of viewing anything from a point of view not immediately in front of their eyes or in the midst of their bellybutton!

For a movement claiming equality, they sure as hell do all they can so that equal treatment shall not come around, so that the issues affecting boys and men shall not be taken seriously.

I’ve spent the entirety of my life reading books. I grew up in books. I spent so much time at the library, I might as well have set up camp there. I had friends come visit me at the library. I still read books whenever I can, and always bring books with me, no matter where I’m going. So which book would that be, that I should read?

Would you vile cretins of phoney virtue and solipsist systems accept this as an argument from me? Would you accept me proposing that you read a book as a perfect and permanent solution to our argument, or would you consider this as nothing but the vague “I am smarter than you, you peasant” put-down and cop-out that it is?

Read a book, indeed.

How about viewing boys and men as human beings, and treating men and women equally?

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 10.04.2019

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Ideological Purity, white as the driven snow:

Noone there lowres

Ill: «No-one there», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

In a world, in a time, in a place possessed such as we are by the proclaimed virtues of ideological purity, we prove on a global scale that we have not learned anything from our history. We live, and we do not learn. One set of ideas or another; it does not matter to the vacuum that is humanity, or, more to the point – the faulty memory of humanity. For some reason or other, time and again, one set of ideas will rise above all others and settle in our confused cosmic collective consciousness and promptly become the default state of thought and of being for one and all within the anthill we inhabit. If one does not submit to this set of ideas, one will be made to submit to this set of ideas, through shaming, bullying, harassment, misrepresentations, social ostracising, removal of livelihood and more. One set of ideas happy-slapped into our cultural zeitgeist for decades; from one set of young eyes to another in sanctified halls of supposed learning, passed down through generations; a genetic defect presented as the truth, the one truth, the truth fantastic. Only this one path to tread, and none other.

This is indeed a frightening tendency. Inevitably, it leads to a lack of nuance, a lack of balance, to a one-sided narrative where up is up and down is also up, as long as up and down can be made to be two sides of the same coin. And it will be made to be two sides of the same coin through an incredible display of mental gymnastics designed in just such a way as to show both sides of the coin at the same time. We slip and we slide and then we fall, once again, into the realm of political propaganda and indoctrination. Truth be told, we probably never left.

Voices squawk, speak, and present and all voices present themselves to be the one truth. The true-true, the new-old-truth of aeons past and ages present.

Then one voice presenting viciously one voice, one side, one set of ideas manage to rise above all other voices in the cacophony of cerebral screeching and gutter-mouthed madness that is the battlefield of propaganda. It wins the popular vote through a massive and fantastic manipulation of our very empathetic natures. Twisting and turning words and truths in a manner subtle, sublime, magical and majestic so that the words and meanings resonate wonderfully with our own inner vibrations of what is just and what is right and what is true and what is proper. A fantastic twisting and turning, marvellously engineered so as to make sense when spoken and when read. The surface-narrative surfaces and wins the popular vote. And so, the people are won over to the one side, the one idea, the one ideology deemed by itself to be the only true ideology, the only true path, winning its place through dishonesty or violence or both. And when once the place is won, the power grabbed and the people made subject to the propaganda, the place, the power and the propaganda are not easily done away with. It lingers. It grows. And it festers, infecting safe and sane and healthy tissue all around it.

For the sake of not burning the infected tissue out, for the sake of keeping the infection spreading, the infection needs to make sure we know that it is not, in fact, an infection but a necessary part of our body. Thus; the ideology is presented as fact and as truth from early childhood, and still presented as truth and as fact through all manners and all means in media and in common dialogue, in political nonsense-speech from political nonsense-politicians more interested in their own careers than in speaking truth; babble-mouthed and helpful idiots furthering the cause of the ideology and of the infection, building not upon any system of value within themselves, but a wish to remain popular, elected and in a position of power.

No semblance of critical thought.

No semblance of self-ownership.

No-one wants to be on the outside; all want to be popular, to be part of the in-group, the now, the click and hive and swing of things. And so they pose with T-shirts proudly promoting the one set of ideas as the true path towards equal treatment of one and of all. And do lip-service in front of the altar of the dominant ideology, lest they be purged themselves and relocated to the gulag for re-education.

This is what a feminist looks like, they’ll say with a hollow voice, and I’ll be damned if I don’t wear a T-shirt proudly labelling myself a follower of the church of the latter-day offended, never gazing beneath the surface-narrative of equality and prosperity and truth and beauty, and just as North Korea is the pinnacle of democracy, because it is in the name of the Democratic People’s republic of Korea, feminism is about equality, because it is in the definition of the movement and all evidence to the contrary be damned; the immediate virtue-signal of me being moral and just and right and proper is far better and more important than thinking, seeing and understanding the beast whose cause I am championing. Best to follow the ideology. Showcase myself to be of ideological purity, lest the zealots push me out of my profession and out of society itself!

Questioning the dominant ideology is a sure-fire way to get caught in the crossfires of ideological warfare which, for all intents and purposes where feminism is concerned, mirrors spiritual warfare. Label it as this or as that on the surface, and those who do not gaze beneath the surface will not see the rot for lack of looking, thinking and smelling.

The further into the subconscious this ideology pushes itself, the harder it is to do away with. It has been pushed and pushed for decades, indoctrinated into us in ways that would not have been accepted were it any other set of ideas. Imagine, if you will, Catholicism being pushed and promoted in public schools as the one-and-only truth of our day and age. Or any other religion, for that matter. People would – rightly – be up in arms. And yet, feminism is allowed in our cultural madness, to be taught as the true path towards salvation and enlightenment, to tangle us all, from an early age, within its web of empty words, hollow lies and vacuous moral grandstanding.

An ideology pushed and promoted in schools supposedly free of political indoctrination. What a fantastic time to be alive! A neutral place of learning, excepting where feminism is concerned, because feminism is the truth and nothing but the truth in the eyes and minds of the fervent followers of the victim-cult. So it is not indoctrination, it is not pushing an ideology. It is pushing the truth.

To the ideologically possessed and wilfully blind, truth is whatever the hell they say that it is. Evidence to the contrary need not apply, because they do not believe in it and so it is dismissed out of hand and done away with; out of sight, out of mind. The greatest idea the devil ever had was to convince people that he is not real.

This ought to prove the grip on our society which this ideology have managed to gain; clear evidence to the contrary of their claims are done away with, and no-one cares about this. And those attempting to showcase this evidence are done away with and stuck with all manners of derogatory and horrible labels; labelled as the enemy of the people by the promoters and propagandists of the ideology, as well as by the public at large, beings who have been indoctrinated into useful idiots and military storm-troopers for the ideology – to do their bidding and their dirty work. To do away with the non-believers, the heretics, the witches and warlocks, the foul free-thinkers of our day and age, the horrible bringers of nuance and balance into the infected discussion. To do away with the apostates.

How can one be against feminism? It is only about equality, you know.

Well, here is evidence to the contrary.

Oh, well, women have it worse, you know.

OK – here is evidence to the contrary.

Fuck you, you misogynist – everyone! Come get the misogynist, he hates and harasses women! I bet he beats his wife as well.

Burn the witch! Kill the non-believer! Destroy his family, destroy his bloodline! He is out of line. Those who oppose feminism is the witches of our age.

And so it goes. Here we sit, we who oppose the feminist dogma, anxiously awaiting the Gulag and our re-education; waiting for one of our close feminist friends or relatives to come into our lives with many a flirt and a flutter, to show us the errors of our ways and bring unto us the light of salvation, pointing to one disproven talking-point after the other of the feminist propaganda-circus. Disregarding any voices in opposition and waving it away as wrong-think, never even considering the voices in opposition or the evidence at hand. Genital mutilation of infant boys being legal, while genital mutilation of girls are illegal being waved away as a non-issue, despite the clear and blatant double-standard of the thing. Domestic violence being painted as men’s violence against women when it need not be viewed through a gendered lens at all, thus causing male victims of domestic violence to be disbelieved and not finding any support, more often than not being painted as the perpetrator of violence despite being the victim?

This does not matter to the mind of the feminist.

Men don’t matter, only women.

Odd that this clear gendered double-standard comes from the voice claiming to be about equal treatment of the genders.

If feminism really believed that the genders should be treated equally, they ought to treat the genders equally. This means offering understanding, sympathy, empathy and aid to men as well as women. This means allowing for the understanding that both men and women are capable of both good and evil, and that the vast majority of both are not guilty of evil. This means considering men and women both as human beings, both able to victimize and be victimized by the other. No one gender has a monopoly on violence, and no one gender has a monopoly on being a victim of violence. And, with men being far more likely to be the victim of violent assault than women are, I find it incredibly interesting how we chose to focus on ending violence against women – the minority of victims. Surely, were we to operate on the basis of equality, the focus should be on ending violence against all? Or, should we allow the funding and the awareness-raising to go such as the feminists make it go – towards the demographic perceived to be suffering the most of the issue – it should be about ending violence against men. Of course, this does not resonate within the feminist mind, since that is a warped and destroyed mind. Men do most of the violence, is their rebuttal, as if that in and off itself, is an argument. So what, I say to that, should we care less about the victim because he happens to share the gender of his victimizer? What manner of moon-logic is this? This only makes sense if you do not treat the genders equally.

Worst fucking patriarchy ever.

Women are so horribly oppressed you know, and feminism is the underdog fighting the top-dog, the anti-establishment factor in our split-down-the-middle societies, where men and women are in constant war by the insistence of feminism. The weird and peculiar instance where the underdog is the top-dog, pretending to be the underdog so as to gain popular vote and sympathy. Because everyone loves an underdog, everyone loves to see the underdog rise to prominence and succeed where it was doomed to fail.

The obvious fact that feminism is the establishment, and has been for decades, matter little to the promoters, followers and believers in the ideology, the cult, the religion, the sect, the madness. Because they want to be the underdog, they want to be the brave warriors for truth and justice, they want to view themselves as fighting the good fight, and they sure as hell do not want to confront themselves and maybe have to change their minds.

Because the stubborn nature of humanity reaches further than our wilful blindness in regards to history and our tendency to repeat every single failure we have ever done ad infinitum. And the cause to champion is the moral and just cause to champion. And it is the moral and just cause to champion because the cause have told them this, time and again, making sure that everyone does nothing but scan the surface by bullying the ones who dare stare into the abyss, by becoming the abyss staring back. It is excruciatingly simple to flock to the banner of the popular cause. One meets little resistance then, and is accepted into the hive and seen as one who plays the game of life proper, not some weird hermit who refuses to play the game of life proper. Our anthill has no need for outcasts – everyone is equally inferior both within and without.

There has to be a war. Otherwise, people might start thinking. So why not make it a gender-war? Why not pit man and woman against each other, and in so doing promoting the idea that A) it was men that started it all through being men and nothing but that, B) feminism is the banner under which all women gather and fight the wickedness of men, and to which banner some men, learning the errors of their ways, flock so as to be allies and worthy of women, C) all men, everywhere, benefit from the oppression of women, and D) any hatred towards men by feminism or women is justified due to the false idea that men started it all.

Beat this idea into the impressionable minds of kids. And very, very soon, you will see the blatant hatred of men being considered justified. To such an extent that “Misandry don’t real!”, is the words of choice by the gracious feminist hive-mind which is clearly only about equality, yet sees no qualms in labelling all men as guilty and accountable for the bad actions of one man and in so doing pushing for laws and legislations favouring women at the expense of men.

Equality means nothing, when supremacy has become the norm. And supremacy has become the norm through countless years of pure and unopposed propaganda and indoctrination, in which an invisible god-figure bogeyman dubbed “the patriarchy” will be the default scape-goat of everything. Men kill themselves more? Well, that’s the patriarchy for you. Women chose to stay at home? Well, that’s the patriarchy for you. More men die at work than women, by an incredible amount? Well, that’s the patriarchy for you. Women chose to be strippers or grid girls? Well, that’s the patriarchy for you. Men are conscripted and made to go to war? Well, that’s the patriarchy for you.

And so it goes, onwards and ever onwards, creating a figurehead to fight, a free-floating illusionary conspiracy-theory grounded not in reality but in a very human longing for something quick, simple and easy to blame when things go wrong, a quick and easy answer to complex questions: it is the fault of patriarchy, considering men to be of so much more worth than women that men are the disposable and expendable ones, whereas women must be protected. It would have been the worst patriarchy ever, were the propaganda not so engrained in our society that the default answer then is that patriarchy hurts men too, it only helps the men at the top. Then completely disregarding the women at the top, in order to feed their bogeyman-myth. And, through this myth, being able to dismiss and disregard any issues facing men brought up by men as misogyny, wishing to take away from women. Because sharing resources, be those resources material or emotional equally goes completely against the tenets of feminism, seekers of equality that they of course are. All must be treated equally! But women must receive more help, more funding must go towards women’s issues, women must be granted this or that at the expense of men, in the quest for equal treatment of the genders. And men need not receive anything, not even an ear willing to listen or hands willing to help. Men must help, and if men can not help, they are unnecessary men and we have no use for them. Which, of course, is painted as the fault of the patriarchy. Clever.

To my mind, there is little wonder that there is such a disregard for the issues facing men as well as the experiences of men. When the view of both society and of history begins with the idea that men – and only men – have had power and freedom throughout history where women have lacked both, and that men as a group have oppressed women as a group throughout history, it is easy to disregard men.

The black and white thinking of group A good, group B bad echoes down through the ages. There is no need to consider the issues and experiences of the group considered the oppressors, the wielders of power, because their experiences are the only experiences told and considered through the annals of history.

And so, it is time that group A gets considered.

Just a damn shame that things are not as simple as that, but it can easily be made out to be as simple as that. Just drive the ideology home, and the social pressures will do the rest. Crank the handle of purity and make the great machine of society purge the ones who do not conform to the essence of purity that is the dominant ideology, the pure and unbending law of the land. Purge them with the wealthy machine of propaganda, infecting the minds of the hive with the notion that opposition to the ideology is opposition to equality, and that everyone opposing it also opposes the stability and safety of our system, our society, our machine, our hive, and most importantly: our women.

In the feminist utopia, everyone gets bread to eat and wood to feed their ovens. Excepting men, who gets neither bread nor wood – especially not in the mornings. Excepting those who do not subscribe to the dominant ideology of our day and age – they will not participate, and so they deserve neither. The only thing they deserve is assassination of character and loud calls for re-education through the gibbering nonsense that is social media, through the fantastical hell-scape that is the immediate knee-jerk reaction of those who have not delved beneath the surface, who have seen nothing but the tip of the iceberg, who have not felt the frenzied charge and attack of the ideology and its followers upon their mind and their bodies, who are not marked and scarred eternally by the might and claws and teeth of the beast.

We are being governed, watched and – metaphysically – killed by the viral infection; ripples spreading outwards from the centre, great waves beating against us and knocking us down. We who are not ideologically pure will be shamed and ostracised for raising our voices in concern, for daring to think for ourselves and question the dominant narrative of the here-and-now, the ferocious vulgarity preached by the followers of the church of the latter-day offended, whose wilful blindness, stubborn egotism, ideological indoctrination and roars of existential dread and rage whenever opposition is met leads towards a lack of nuanced debate.

There is no debate to be had when the only tactic used against opposing views are lies, slander and guttural roars of disgust; lack of arguments hiding behind moral outrage, lack of insight and lack of thought and lack of rebuttal masked behind the eternal battle-cry of those who do not see that their minds are closed and the key thrown away by the ideologues who fed them lies from childhood on; the battle-cry that says nothing but “This is wrong because it offends me!” Showing nothing but the demand to shut down the debate on grounds of perceived moral wrongs, caring nothing for the truth or for the facts or for anything but the ideology said to be the only ideology caring for equality, the only ideology being moral, the only ideology being just: the ideology of feminism, claiming to be nothing but a movement for human rights, yet being nothing but yet another ideology demanding complete and utter blind submission from every member of society.

As it was yesterday, so it shall be today. Only the names and the seasons change; the tribe remains the same – to follow, to submit, or to be cast out.

– Moiret Allegiere, 16.03.2019

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What makes a man suicide? Rambling on traditional expectations and suicide.

Portrait artist cofee lowres

Ill: «Selfportrait with morning coffee», A3, 2019

What makes a man?

Is a man naught but muscles, tendons, organs and primal lust vibrating within a shell clumsily assembled to resemble a human being; an imitation of humanity manspreading viciously beneath a monochromatic sky, nervously anticipating his next oppressive conquest?

Is a man naught but an unfeeling automaton, completely and utterly devoid of basic human emotion, empathy and intimacy; a mass-manufactured cybernetic organism slowly gaining sentience and self-awareness and, in so doing, coming to realise his might, strength and ability to subjugate others to fulfil his own selfish needs?

Is a man naught but a replicant, an android created specifically to do the hard, uninspiring and menial labour society deems to be the low-status jobs; the hard and monotonous, the filthy, dirty, sweaty, dangerous professions filled only by those whom we – in our weird and dissociative state of being – consider to be of less importance, those whom we consider to be disposable, expendable, nameless, faceless, those who move the world?

Is a man naught but a nervous, trembling mass of violent impulses and barely contained rape; a sexually deviant beast, malformed, shapeless, barely cogent in his guttural ululations resembling language and emotive expressions consisting of mere primal urges; to fornicate, procreate, expand his territory, conquer his enemies and then exterminate them?

Is a man naught but a perpetual work-horse, the doer for others, a vibrant shade of history, of his story; to do for others, to sacrifice and to do for others, existing within the frame of mind of those for whom he is expected to sacrifice as nothing but the protector/provider, to be is to do, to do is to be, toodle-do… Does he then disregard his own state of being in order to be locked down in a state of doing so he is not disregarded by others as a being of less value from his lack of doing?

Is this state of being really and truly the state of privilege? Is the bogged down, simplified, dehumanizing view of a man as a human-doing, not a human-being an example of gender-privilege?

To put it in other terms: if a man is killed in war, does anyone hear him scream?

Even more bluntly: when a man is killed in this nonsensical gender-war, why won’t anyone hear him scream?

Why do we refuse to see the suffering of men and of boys in this shivering mass of tentacles and cosmic horrors we have allowed our societies to devolve into?

There is something to be said for traditionalism, apparently, as traditional values is still the expected state of being for a man: to sacrifice himself for the benefit of those around him, disregarding his own well-being, be that well-being psychological or physiological. In a very strict sense, I am not a traditionalist. The simple reason for this is that it chains both man and woman to pre-determined destinies, removing a degree of individual freedom which I would rather not see be removed. In a biological sense, however, it seems the traditional path is the path upon which we all thread, subconsciously, led by the hands of our very nature; our state of being being such that women and children must be protected to ensure the continuation of our species. And if that means the self-sacrifice of men, so be it. Or so the story goes. It does make sense, from a biological perspective. We are, however, in a state of being in which we are able to transcend the purely biological.

This state of being is very clearly reflected in the gender argumentation; the feminist assault on all things traditional whenever a traditional path involves women. Women shall be freed from the constraints of traditionalism. OK.

That I think, is more than fair.

I have no qualms with this.

I believe everyone should be free to follow their own path and do with their lives as they wish to do. And when I say everyone, I actually mean everyone – man and woman alike. And when I say do with their lives as they wish, I mean exactly that – as they wish. As long as no-one does anything against anyone against their wishes, I don’t care what people do with their lives. Thread whichever path you wish. Just remember that your rights end where the rights of someone else begins. In simple terms.

This, of course, does not mean that I will not judge people on their actions. Nor does it mean that I will not comment on these actions. It means, quite simply, that I see absolutely no reason why I should force someone to live a certain way, whether I agree with a certain way of life or not.

When the feminist hive-mind of ravenous virtue and vulturous morality raise their screeching voices in opposition to traditionalism, and howl dementedly at the moon-goddess Luna about freedom from gender-roles, they speak only in regards to women. This would all have been fine and dandy, were it not for the fact that they propose to speak on behalf of both man and woman, that the groin-grabbing metal-claw that is their hands have firmly clasped the scrotum of our distorted discord in regards to gender.

When the clearly female-centric ideology of feminism, whose legacy has granted us such vitriolic hatred and contempt for all things masculine as to be completely dismissed when speaking on behalf of men and boys, proposes to speak on behalf of men and boys, we ought to be worried and we ought to protest this. This is one of those things that are truly worrisome and frightening, and one of the main reasons I have launched my own war against feminism: an ideology orbiting one gender is the only voice heard, or allowed to speak, on behalf of both genders. And this is absolutely nonsensical. However, it ties firmly and neatly into all things traditional. Women must be protected and must be granted any-and-all, if we are to carry this human DNA into the future of mutual delusion that seems to be the path we have chosen. And men and boys must be sacrificed, or be called to, forced to, made to sacrifice themselves on behalf of women and children. And here come the he for she, once again, a speech lauded as revolutionary and fantastic, as something profound and something clever whilst being absolutely nothing but a rehashing of what we have already been doing all through the murky haze of our shared collective history. He for she.

Him go hunt big mammoth, him protect mate. Him make sure harm not come to young. Him bring meat and warm skin of mammoth. Him protect, him provide.

Of course, traditionalism was based around a sense of mutual respect, cooperation and – dare I even say – love, with both parts of a relationship doing for the other part, and in turn for the rest of the family unit. All doing their part. Or, that is my understanding of it. I was born far too late to see traditionalism in full fucking swing. I was born into the era of feminism, within whose auditorium I was told relentlessly and repetitiously about my own wickedness and the sins of my father and my fathers father and my fathers fathers father, for whose sins I must pay with my self-respect, my well-being and my blood, if need be. And in front of the shining and shimmering altar of feminist revisionist history, beneath her fragile goddess-form, I was made to kneel and told to do all I could for whichever woman was unlucky enough to cross my path; whose mere countenance I was lucky to behold and whose footprints and whispering voice should be the be-all, end-all of my life. He for she.

And here come the traditional expectations thrown at men; shackled and chained still in the good old gender-roles which feminism purports to have broken down, disassembled and done away with. To do for women. To do and not to be. To prove himself worthy by virtue of his ability to protect and to provide for her, for the family, for the union of their loins and sweaty groins, or merely for the hope of the unity of their loins and sweaty groins. And all this whilst proclaiming freedom from pre-determined roles for one and all, arguing past oppression as a means to justify the fervent, violent, never-ending assault on all things masculine. Justifying and popularizing hatred and subsequent subjugation of one gender and one gender only through a wilfully hazy recollection of things past.

And just as the future ain’t what it used to be once we grow up and become more cynical and less hopeful, the past ain’t what it used to be once we grow intellectually and are able to critically analyse history and data both, to see that the mirage offered us by feminist historians and pedagogues mirror not history, but wish-tory, a wishy-washy way of pointing to this or to that in order to show how horribly women were treated in ages past; chained to the kitchen and to the home while the men were free to cavort joyously in the wild and gigantic jungles of societies past, swinging from the branches of the trees drunk on their own power with no obligations, no chains and no shackles and no worries, free as free could be in the horrid morning of our modern civilization, prior to the feminist utopia we now see spread-eagled before us on the dusty ground.

If by “free” you mean 14+ hours a day in the coal-mines for incredibly little pay. If by free you mean obligated to provide and to protect for someone who was of far more social worth; of so much worth, in fact, that they could not possibly be expected to sacrifice those hours, days, weeks, months, years of their life and of their safety in dank and horrid caverns, gaining nothing but a barely liveable wage and black lungs from inhaling coal all day, every day, all week, every week.

Strange, that the past is viewed as though it mirrors the present, even when not the case. Childbirth was far more dangerous in those horrible days of yore. For both mother and child. Survival was not guaranteed. Medicine was not what it is today. Our modern miracles of medicine have not always been there, you know. Surely, it makes sense then, in order to keep the woman and the child safe, that they should be at home? That the man should take care of the risky business of making a living – making a living for all, I would add. Life was harder. Things were tougher. One can not look at the past with the lenses of today, claiming that it is like this now, so it was like that then. Things change, times change, progress is made and things do not stay the same, and things have not stayed the same. Sacrifices had to be made, by one and by all. Note, please, that I do not in any way intend to downplay the role of the mother, the wife, the woman in this scenario. Things were surely tough and hard for all. I am simply trying to offer perspective. The past was not hard for women. It was hard for everyone, except the few who wielded power. Yeah, most of those with power were male. This does not mean that men had power. Nor does it mean that now. It does not mean that men in power would benefit men and men only. Nor does it mean that now. That would be the apex-fallacy, gracious xister, wondrous xir. The one percent at the top being this or that does not reflect the 99 percent not at the top, who happen to be this or that.

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Which brings me to the beginning. What makes a man? Or, to the strangely convoluted point of this ramble: what makes a man suicide? As we can see from the statistics, men are far more at risk of suicide than women. This goes for the entirety of the world, with very few exceptions: ( http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-statistics.html )

This is very clearly a subject with no easy answer, and it is a subject I am somewhat reluctant to tackle. There are many factors and variables at play, and for personal reasons it is a subject which is very near and dear to my heart and gut and balls. It is difficult to write about, because it is a difficult subject.

Speaking from my own personal experience as a thirty-something male, I can not remember one single instance from any school I attended where I heard anything positive and uplifting said in regards to boys and men. Quite the contrary: the focus was always and ever on lifting girls and women up and above, often at the detriment of boys and men. I mention this frequently in my writings, as I consider it to be very important. I don’t think there is anything wrong with lifting girls and women up. Of course there isn’t. There is something wrong with lifting girls and women – and only girls and women – up. Giving positive messages to one gender and one gender only for perceived equality is quite obviously contrary to equality. It is treating one better than the other. And this is happening at schools all the time, across the entire fucking western world.

Not one instance of boys being lifted up and told that they could do whatever they wanted to, be whatever they aspired to be. It was always, from teachers as well as pupils, Girls rule, boys drool. Overt or covert, it did not matter.

Our teachers, infused with feminism and the high-and-mighty flap-jackery of moral virtue, dignity and compassion granted them by the feminine divine, saw no qualms in telling boys that they were the root cause of the evils of the world, as well as telling them – driving the point home with pin-point accuracy as often as possible – that their emotional maturation was far slower than the girls, and as such that the girls were far more mature than the boys. Our very nature was, through this, made out to be wrong, to be of lesser worth and of lesser maturity than the nature of girls. At the same time, we were told that gender was a social construct. Odd then, that emotional maturation in itself was something to be trusted, given the social constructionist bull-shittery of the thing. This of course translated into a covertly – or overtly – hostile environment for the boys.

No mind, never matter, this ain’t no thing, as armies of indoctrinated feminists spouted feminist dogma in their early teens, completely incapable of understanding it or viewing it with any form of critical eye but the severe moral grandstanding of “we – the girls – are oppressed by you – the boys. You owe us.” And there come the entitlement from noxious drones fighting the good cause; a cause into which they had been brainwashed from early days at school, indoctrinated into severe entitlement translating into a distrust and putting-down-off boys, whose lives and value to themselves through the very same indoctrination mattered less and became less than that of the girls; whose aspirations in life mattered little and whose ability to reach, as it were, for the stars had to be put aside and trodden into the ground so that the girls should be lifted up, at the expense of the boys. Boys whom, it must also be mentioned, were diagnosed with ADD or ADHD and put on brain-altering and highly addictive chemicals for the crime of being a boisterous boy trapped in an environment not tailored nor suited to him.

Is there any wonder, then, that suicide is such a big killer of young men? There has never been – in my lifetime – any focus on lifting up boys, on making boys feel good about themselves. Quite the contrary. Boys have been told to make amends for years of so-called oppression carried out by their forefathers. Boys have been told that they are rapists-in-waiting, that any sexual desire they may feel should be a source of shame, that their sexuality is simplistic and primitive.

And this from schools, whose teachers are supposed to be the ones from whom facts and truths about the world shall be made clear. It translates into confusion. Chivalry. Confusion. Girls and boys are of equal worth, we are told. So why shall boys and men sacrifice for the well-being and the up-lifting of girls and women at the expense of themselves? Why shall we then not expect the same standards, the same responsibilities for one self from girls as we do for boys? Shall not girls and boys cooperate? Shall not women and men cooperate? Giving and receiving in equal measures, being told the same so as to lift both up? In this age of equality, why is it only the lives, well-being, future, of girls that matter, and why must the boys be thrown to the wolves?

Revenge.

Revenge and retribution for perceived prior oppression.

Revenge.

Reparations paid by a generation of boys and young men who have done nothing wrong but be born with a set of cock and balls on their battle banner in this manufactured gender war, manufactured by ideologues whose gripe with the world at large translates into psychosis – a dissociative state from whose point of view all is translucent, fleeting and nonsensical, with no values but the emotional knee-jerk reaction of offence taken for the sake of taking offence.

And growing further from this den of indoctrination, young girls grow up to be young women, and still being told the same thing – girls rule the world. You can do anything, you can be anything, boys drool, girls rule. And young boys grow up to be young men, still hearing the same – girls rule, girls can be all, boys and men must help girls and women.

And no-one must help boys and men, not even themselves.

Boys and men are driven into a life of servitude – driven into the same traditional gender-roles which the feminist hive-mind claim to have eradicated. Now, they may claim that they have eradicated it for men as well. But this is simply not true. And this is made evident in the words and actions of feminists themselves, who still demand men do for them, sacrifice for them, giving them their all whilst having no right to demand anything in return. In our secular societies, for lack of God, we have given the position of deity to the exalted state of womanhood – to give to her, to do for her, to make for her, to pray to her so that she may absolve us of our sins and so that we may become – to her eyes and mind and ears and claws – redeemed, cleansed and worthy of the heavenly bliss that is her companionship.

Through this lens of equality, boys and men are told that their path towards healing is wrong. That we need to open up and talk about our feelings, instead of repressing them. As if the feminine path to healing wherein emotions are discussed is the one and only path towards healing. Men, in general terms, are drawn towards action as a means of healing. Or, failing that, solitude. To mull things over on their own. Whereas women are drawn to social circles, seeking comfort in friends and in family. There is nothing wrong with this. The issue comes when boys and men are told to heal in a manner contrary to their nature, as if their very nature and their natural path towards healing is wrong. As if we only act a certain way, not that we are a certain way. The mere notion that men only act manly is insulting in and off itself. Try telling a woman to stop acting like a woman all the time, and see what results you get. It wouldn’t be accepted. But boys and men are supposed to accept it; the narrative of toxic masculinity being what kills men. As a boy becomes a man, the first thing he realizes, if he listens to this gobsmacking advice, is that there is no-one there willing to listen to his problems. He might open up as much as he may; the best he can get is half-interested nods and blinks. The worst he can get is being told he suffers from fragile masculinity, which is odd considering his apparent toxic masculinity is what causes him to not talk about his issues. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Laying down, as the ground-rules for discourse, that the very nature of men is faulty does contribute, in my view, to the suicide rates in no small way.

Keep in mind that I am writing on feminism, not women. That, although feminism wishes it to be so, feminism does not equal women. And women does not equal feminism. Feminism have become, for all intents and purposes, a religion. It is a cult. It is a dogmatic victim-cult, hell-bent on revenge, fuelled by its own mythology, maintaining a canon of saints and prophets whose words and deeds shall not be taken in vain, or be set upon by arguments. Feminism has become untouchable. And dangerous. And its reach is such that it has infiltrated everything; the medieval catholic church packaged anew. No-one expects the feminist inquisition! Yet, one and all should expect the feminist inquisition, as they come rampaging and roaring and screeching your way the moment you voice opposition to their dogma and their orthodoxy.

Young boys shown feminism as the true path towards equality between the genders from an early age are sure to believe it. Even when experiencing, time and again, that it does not view the genders as equal. Even when experiencing, time and again, that the dogmatic victim-cult treats the genders quite the opposite of equally. All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others. Through indoctrination and through brainwashing, their belief, as well as the belief of the girls, in feminism and feminism only is ground into them from an early age. And experiencing the forked serpentine tongue of feminism upon their soul and their bodies may only breed cognitive dissonance. On the one hand, they are told that we are all equal and that we are all treated equally. On the other, they are shown through actions and words that they are not. And being told, time and again, of the errors of their ways by their very nature, through no fault of their own, confusion breeds within. Confusion and inner turmoil.

Men are overrepresented in all the negative statistics – victims of violence, drug and substance abuse, homelessness, suicide, joblessness, hopelessness, despair and grimness, lower age expectancy and dying more often at work. And what are we doing about this? We are focusing solely on girls and on women, and are told when trying to bring up these facts, that it is not a gendered issue and so we must not view this through the lens of gender. The gendered lens is brought out solely when girls and women are perceived as, or can be made out to be, the sole or main victims of some societal ill or other. Then – and only then – will it be perceived as a gendered issue. But when boys and men fall victim to the horrors of societal ills, it does not need to be treated as a gendered issue. Incredibly strange, is it not? It is a gendered issue whenever women can be made out to be the most affected. It is not a gendered issue whenever men can be made out to be the most affected.

It is the grim sensation of hopelessness settling in our chests and in our stomachs. A grim spectre of purposelessness and a loss of direction. Boys and men are not needed, we are told from a tender age. Because we need to lift the girls and the women up and above. The point is driven home, time and again, through mass-media mass-manufacturing the same vile hatred of boys, men and masculinity due to the mass-media now being infected with the girls and women who grew up with these tall tales of feminism being served them on a silver-platter all through their education, teaching them that they are above reproach and that boys and men are below them and owe them their lives and their servitude. And it has such a stranglehold on our societies that speaking about it like I do gets me labelled a misogynist.

Me, the foul misogynist, wanting the genders to be treated equally and given equal rights under law. Sounds like a horrid hater of women, no? Me, the foul misogynist, wishing for cooperation and balance to the discourse on gender. Imagine what paths we have been made to thread to make it so. Imagine how crooked these paths are, and with so many forks in the road being made necessary in order to justify labelling someone wanting equal treatment of the sexes as a hater of one sex and one sex only.

These talking points that feminism is only about equality, that it is not about hating men, need to be taken away. For they are simply not true. At the rotten heart of feminism lie the blatant hatred of men and of masculinity itself. Which is why I constantly bring up feminism. To get to the root of the rot within our societies, we need to examine feminism. And then we need to dismantle it, remove it from its positions of leadership and get this ridiculous neural imprint of ours that it is only about equality stripped away. To heal the hurt of our societies, we need to remove the rot. And we must bring balance to the discourse. Equal treatment of the genders is not a topic to be discussed by one voice and one voice only. In particular when that one voice has as its sole focus one gender and one gender only. How incredibly authoritarian, how fantastically totalitarian, how astonishingly arrogant, must one be to imagine to be the only set of ideas worth anything, and thus the only voice allowed to speak on behalf of gender? Feminism proves time and again that it knows jack shit about men. So why in the snoot-fuck should we allow them to speak on behalf of men? It is ridiculous, preposterous and ideological. And that is all it is.

I am frightfully aware of the fact that my writings tend to be bleak and hopeless, offering little in the way of solution; perhaps only offering some cathartic release. This is, more like than not, a product of my own bleak hopelessness and despair in regards to how the winds of our societies are blowing.

This despair and hopelessness goes contrary to what I actually wish to achieve with these writings.

I have no intention of staying lost in a pit of hopelessness and despair.

I have no wish to stay trapped within a cage of anger and rage either.

And I do not wish this for others.

The fact of the matter, though, and the pure realistic view of things makes it very easy to justify both feelings of hopelessness and of anger. And detaching from justified anger is as difficult as detaching from hopelessness when once it has settled within oneself.

This hopelessness leads to bleak outlooks, leads to checking out and not returning. And that is not good. Unless one turns it around. Turning ones back on society and becoming the archetypal rebel-character, living by his own rules, may well be a strength within itself; a fantastic picture of self-reliance and individual strength as much as it may be a picture of someone who society has cast aside. Own your self and own your shit.

The message sent to girls and women is a message that should also be sent to boys and to men; that they are strong and able and that one should aspire to live to the best of ones abilities. So why not send it to boys and men as well?

The sensation of hopelessness, the loss of direction, the loss of a sense of purpose and a sense of self all ties into, I think, the view of men as doers of things; as being what we do and defining ourselves from what we do, instead of what we are. Men as utilities, as disposable servants for the greater good (Cue Hot Fuzz – “the Greater Good”) of society. This is an archaic notion of men upheld as much by traditional values as by feminist dogma demanding men do for women – by which they mean, of course, feminism – even when claiming they don’t need no man. Again, I am reminded of He for She, which I think is one of the most insulting speeches I have ever heard. It is the view of men as protectors and providers, of caretakers and chivalrous knights saving the poor maiden wrapped up neatly and nicely in a new package; painting women as helpless victims and objects acted upon by evil men and in need of being saved by good men, even if the view is that all men are wicked and false at heart. Men are being told that we are not needed, by and large, whilst still being expected to rush to the aid of damsels in distress. We are not needed. Except when called upon to help women.

What we need to do is to consider ourselves as human beings first and foremost. To get to know our self. To define ourselves from what and who we are, not from what we do. To consider ourselves as our selves first, and what we do second, so that our humanity comes before our utility. In so doing, the need we feel to prove our usefulness comes second to the strength we have in our sense of self, our belief in our own strength and value as a human being. This, I think, will lessen the stranglehold of feminism in no small way, as there will be no men rushing to the forefront of the gender-war to prove themselves useful and thereby valuable. Because we have already become aware of our selves; we will already know that we have value in and off ourselves. Through this way of thinking, I think, it will all begin and it will all end – beginning with a whisper in the depths of the manosphere, and, given time, ending in a cacophony of vibrant, fantastic, rapturous and celebratory laughter vibrating fantastically throughout our societies.

– Moiret Allegiere, 09.03.2019

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Stubborn Potato-headed Hopelessness:

unknown soldier Lowres

Ill: «Unknown Soldier», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

 

On this bleak and desolate Thursday in mid-February, I woke with a potato for a head and a stuffy nose, some three hours ago. The potato is still in bed and my hastily assembled IKEA-body is manspreading majestically beneath the grey and overcast skies of this weird morning; a morning still clinging to winter as if wishing spring should never come. Some semblance of spring is found in small sprouting plants eagerly, perhaps too eagerly, poking their heads out of the ground and out of my flowerpots in anticipation of better days of less bleakness and of far less potato-headed heaviness and despair.

There is a sense of incredible weight resting on my shoulders and festering in my chest; a sudden and sobering sensation of hopelessness in regards to the whole human experiment and experience. It seems as if never a day goes by without some new manufactured outrage or some new blatant hypocrisy from the seekers of “equality”, constantly reminding us that some animals are far more equal than others, and thusly should be treated as such by the laws of the land – extending ever more privileges to the unfortunate underprivileged undesirables residing in the underworld of our altruistic confusion.

It seems not a day goes by without some frenzied assault aimed at boys, men and masculinity, imploring us to be better human beings and treat others better than we currently do. For only men do bad. For the whole of a man is evil incarnate; toxicity coursing through our shared masculine bloodlines, inherited violence and sexual assault and most definitively hatred of women, though they fail to point out where and how and whom and when and so and such with any clarity. The hammer falls, the sentence is passed, and the definition of sexual assault becomes so muddled and confused as to be practically anything – whenever it is a man doing something. The same rules do not apply to women, of course.

Remember: drunken hookups where both man and woman are drunk means the man is a rapist and the woman is a victim of rape, though logic should dictate that they are both equally guilty of raping one another. Or, maybe both are engaging in consensual sex. Imagine that. Clearly; the feminist hive-mind of virtue and sanctity do not consider women to be as responsible for their own actions as they consider men to be. Men are considered, when drunk, to take responsibility for their own actions as well as the actions of drunk women, whereas drunk women are not considered able to take responsibility even for their own actions. I wonder if this extends to drunk driving as well? Would a woman be considered responsible were she to beat someone to death with a hammer in a fit of drunken madness? After all – drunkenness implies lack of responsibility for the actions of a woman. How far are they willing to take these randomly sowed seeds of logic? Seeds sown in the dirty end of winter. Frazzled, puzzled, poking out and dying where they are strewn.

Of course; the man in the drunken hookup being the rapist and the woman being raped, despite both being drunk can not possibly be anything but proof that male sexuality is viewed as predatory, as a destructive and simplistic primal force, devoid of emotion, compassion and a longing for bonding which clearly characterizes female sexuality; clean and holy and unspoiled as it is. She is seduced by him, and by his seduction she falls from grace. In the eyes of the orthodox; in the eyes of feminism. The female, being infused with the essence of childlike innocence, can not possibly be expected to respond responsibly to the pressures of the powerful male, being infused with the essence of the primeval, the kill-or-be-killed, subdue-or-be-subdued, the reptilian primacy burning at the tail-end of his barely awakened consciousness. He is the snake in the tree; his primitive mating call being also a challenging call to arms and cry of war: to command, to conquer and to dominate!

Societal double standards are at the root cause of the hopelessness festering in my chest in these bleak mornings; so blatantly obvious and yet unseen. They are hidden in plain sight by the very same double standards – a horrible beast hiding in its own shadow, devouring the world around it and at the same time claiming to build the world around it.

Starting with the assumption that all men have oppressed all women throughout all of history, floating misogynist-like and toxic endlessly down the river of time, due cause and reason is given to the constant hostility levied at boys and men and masculinity; the unholy trinity of the church of the Grand Dragon Patriarch. Stemming from this nonsensical assumption, original sin is born and the name of the sin sprung forth from the tree of knowledge and the trembling hips of feminism is “men”, is “manhood”, is “masculinity”. Bringing this notion into the limelight, into the forefront of our barely conscious mass-media for decades, the wickedness at the heart of men is the reason given for the full frontal assault of hostility and hatred aimed squarely at the hearts and minds of boys and men and masculinity itself. And within this society which, we are told, so openly and clearly hates women; within this society in which women are viewed as inferior and in which women are in constant danger from the wicked hearts and groins of men, all buckle down and do all they can to help, to protect, to give aid to women no matter the truth, the facts, the cold hard logic of the scenarios depicted by fear-mongering propagandists masked as seekers of equality and truth and justice.

In a society which hates women as much as the claim is, one would believe that feminism would not have a stranglehold on the discourse and on the piss-lined streets of our societies. One would assume that feminism would not be listened to and would not be allowed to spew their contempt, their vitriolic hatred and constant shame of boys and men and masculinity in a society which so openly and clearly hates women.

But, of course – reason and logic have no place here. This is ideology. This is a set of ideas painting men as eternal oppressors of the eternally oppressed, and women as eternally oppressed by the eternal oppressors. And the oppressed have all the right in the world to hate their oppressors. Yeah. It is nice and it is grand and it is glorious to have a ready-made and pre-assembled excuse to explain away ones own vibrant contempt, hatred and bigotry as anything but contempt, hatred and bigotry. “No, no, it is not about hating men, it is about equality. We only hate the oppressors. As is our right.” Well then – painting all men as oppressors will then give them the goddess-given right to hate all men whilst denying the hatred at the same time. Their collective tongue is forked and their fangs are venomous.

Do our bidding, men, say the feminist hive-mind. Do our bidding, for you hate us. Disregarding facts running counter to their arguments, they claim the world to be a place of immense hostility and danger to women. Even when men are more at danger in any-and-all situations, being the main victims of homelessness, drug-addiction, alcoholism, violent assaults, death at work, death from illness, suicide, murder and so forth and so on. This does not matter. This is of no concern to feminism and it is of no concern to society at large. The plight of men and the mental health of men is disregarded and ignored in this society in which women are hated and treated as second class citizens by the very forces that cater to every whim and flight of fancy which the feminist ideologues conjure forth from their ancient, dusty and decaying grimoires. Do our bidding, but do not dare to tell women what to do. Women are free to do as they chose, and any judgement passed is evidence of misogyny. Excepting when it is the feminist finger-pointers telling women what to do or not to do with their bodies and with their lives, of course. One rule for thee, another for me.

And so we get the Gillette-ads, the “where have all the good men gone” articles, the toxic masculinity, the APA-guidelines for dealing with men and boys, the thriving domestic violence industry painting domestic violence as the violence of men and only men against women and women only, despite recent studies finding near parity regarding genders and domestic violence, despite Erin Pizzey saying this since the seventies, despite facts and despite reason. Men are evil, women are innocent and men must be fixed, changed and altered to suit the needs of women; that is: feminism.

Men must do for women.

And women must do for women.

And no one need do jack shit for men.

Because men must be on their own and expend all their energy in helping and aiding women.

Because all men are bad, and the men that are good are even worse, since they don’t even know that they are – at heart – bad.

Damned if you do and damned if you don’t, and don’t you dare complain because then you are the exact reason why our societies need feminism. Circular logic. The lack of faith in God show us why we need the church. The lack of faith in feminism show us why we need feminism. And the lack of focus on the well being of boys and men is clear-cut evidence of why we need feminism, because focusing on boys and men for one single second is proof undoubtedly of a society in which women are hated and men are privileged and pampered.

Now, in this climate, why in the world would so many boys and men have this unyielding sense of absolute hopelessness and despair? Why – after being told to step down, to shut up, that our issues don’t matter none at all – should we feel as though there is no hope left? Why, after being told by teachers at school and by politicians and by manipulative mass-media and by friends and by family, that we are the cosmic iceberg floating through space sinking every ship that comes our way, should we feel a loss of hope and faith and love and glory? Why should we not turn our backs on society, drop out and drift away when we have been told for years uncounted that we are not only not needed, but that we are evil incarnate and that our very nature is wrong and faulty, that our masculinity is toxic and that femininity is the only force of nature that is good and pure, and that which all should strive for?

Gender is, after all, a social construct. Or so we are told. And since gender is a social construct, it goes without saying that the social construct of femininity, with its nurturing nature and calm manners, is the true root of our humanity. Even if that is also a social construct. Even if everything is a social construct, even the theory of social constructivism, should we adhere to this construct and this only. Everything is relative. Except this. All else is toxic. Except when that toxic masculinity is called forth to protect and provide for girls and women; he for she, you know. Everything is a social construct and is not to be trusted. Excepting this social construct, which is a more natural social construct than the other social constructs which are not natural social constructs.

Our societies considered it a good idea to throw boys and men under the bus over and over again, to drown us in a sea of phoney victim-tears and lay the blame and lay the faults of the world on our shoulders, claiming that we ruined everything and demanding that we fix everything at the same time. Being considered a force of evil by nature and simultaneously being the force tasked to fix it. Mixed messages of such contempt and of such ludicrous demands, forgetting or throwing away our humanity as well as our inherent goodness, is enough to bring the strongest of us into dumbfounded confusion, despair and absolute hopelessness.

Men, you are evil.

Men, you are not needed.

Men, you need to show that you are good.

Men, you are needed to fix this.

And this is, for some strange reason, something we put up with. This is, for some strange reason, something we bow our necks and fall to our knees for. This is the reality of the world of boys and men, and no one is able or willing to see it excepting those who have been scarred – often deeply – by these forces of so-called good, or those that are able to tear the veil from their eyes and view the world from a place of reason, wondering why in the world are we not treating the genders the same?

And the hopelessness accumulates and the hopelessness grows, festering in the soul and in the soil, and people try talking about it and are shouted down, disrupted and dispersed by the forces of perceived equality. The very forces that proclaim loudly their allegiance to equality deny the voices of those who wish to see the notion of equality from a vantage-point not shaded by ideology and not shaded by hatred and blame-games based on arbitrary characteristics, but based on facts and based on reason and based on evidence.

And the ideology of feminism permeates everything, growing in power ever stronger and becoming immortal, growing and spreading quicker than the malicious tumour growing on my sanity when facing down these abhorrent pieces of absolutely gendered hate, bigotry and contempt.

  • Moiret Allegiere, 23.02.2019

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Revolution for the hell of it:

Howling at a slutwalk moon A3 lowres

ill: «Howling at a slutwalk moon», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

We slip and we slide and oh how gradually, and how quickly, we decline. How quickly we forget, how quickly we throw away all that we have. Caught in a vortex of dissatisfaction brought on by an incredible inability to see how good things actually are. And being bored and being lazy and being hollowed out from the inside by having all our needs catered to, we manufacture drama in order to bring points into an existence deemed as pointless by a refusal to see the point right in front of us.

We slip, wiggle and slide and crawl on the ground like the worms we are as we deny ourselves the pleasures of sitting back and just sitting, doing, being, enjoying. Seeing reality manifested as brutality where no brutality exist. Causes to fight for are not causes to fight for. They are manifestations of an insane need to fill an unseen hole dug out in the chasm that is our chests and beating hearts. Somehow, we have got to struggle, don’t you know. There’s got to be some cause to fight for, some glorious unifying ideal which we can hide behind and mine manufactured outrage from to fill an odd desire emanating from… something.

Is this the breaking point? Is this the point of no return? Is this the point upon which the west slides into decadence and hedonism; with no cause, reason, dreams and aspirations but the brilliant poster hanging on the wall of disgruntled college-students demanding revolution for the sake of revolution, having no idea what that entails? Am bored today. Time to bring the entire system crashing down for no other reason than it giving me something to do. Burn it down, you bastard, burn it down. Make it all crash and make it all burn. And from the ashes a fantabulous utopia shall arise, where all are equal except those who are not equal.

The proles will still walk the streets in gin-laden haze-dreams, and Big Brother will still be watching every step and every breath. And facecrime, thoughtcrime, nonsense words and newspeak come screaming towards us in mad perplexing dreams.

When the thought-police come crashing through your doors for misgendering someone on Twitter, you know you’ve reached the pinnacle of equality. My, what a beautiful, glorious, unifying collective pipe-dream you’ve got going there. All opinions are valid and all should be allowed to speak their mind. Excepting those whose opinions goes against my mirror-mind, of course. Hate speech is not free speech and free speech sure as hell ain’t nothing but hate speech. See how that works, grumble grumble, slip, slide, bullshit-artist and confidence trickster. Hide your solipsist need for censorship behind a paywall of unchallenged kindness as much as you want. It ain’t nothing but egotistical demands for controlling the discourse. Control. Censor. Remove. This one. It was this one, Officer, I swear. He looked at me funny through Twitter. Remove him from my sight at once. Off with his head!

It should be worrying to anyone that they come for the clowns and the comedians. The jesters are not safe any more; the fools have all been slain and the satirists are gagged and bound in re-education camps.

At the very least, they did manage to rid the world of the Nazi-pug death squads. I am happy to report that I finally feel safe walking the streets again, knowing that I will not be subject to the perplexed sniffles and grunts of uniformed pugs wobbling along in groups. Never again shall we suffer the horrors that was the night of the long whines! Context? Nah – never mind, no matter – you wanted to gas the Jews, remember? Shit – come to think of it – am I in trouble now, for writing “Gas the Jews”? Probably. If my blog goes down and my you tube channel disappears, you know they’ve come for me as well. It was a good run. Catch you later – it will be better, once I have been re-educated. Thirty lashes in the town square for that one, boy. Yes xir, thank you very much. I deserve this. What do you mean I’m not grovelling enough, Xir? I do the best grovelling I can. Gas the guys. Is that better?

Some years back, the virtual virtuous hive-mind of impeccable virtue and grace and style and intelligence came for a mens group on Facebook, over here in the frozen wastes of Norway. It was a fascinating display of moral panic the likes of which I had not seen in quite some time. This group for men was made for the sole reason of sharing non-pc humour, as opposed to NPC humour. And you all know what that entails. The horror. The travesty. The foul misogyny of men gathering in packs to hunt down and slay the whamens and the childrens whilst chomping on cigars, twirling their moustaches and saying “harumph” a lot. It was a grand unifying meeting of the patriarchy, where the true oppressive nature of men reared its ugly head and bared its fangs for all the world to see. Their crimes were so heinous that I hardly dare mention them. For me, the trauma is still real. The hurt and the wounds will never fully heal. It is as though I have been stabbed in the heart with a Morgul-blade.

Every week, the horrors of that Facebook group haunts me.

Some nights, I can still hear the screams.

They never leave me; hellish visions of such depravity and torture that I think anyone who encountered it will never fully heal.

Their crime? Telling crude jokes about pedophiles. The whole moral panic began with a blog-post written by some woman who just had a baby; a woman so stunning and so brave that she dared infiltrate this nest of filthy misogynists and rapists-in-waiting, disregarding her own safety.

And what a blog-post it was! She began the entire thing with – and I am paraphrasing here. This is not verbatim – “So there I sat, with my newborn son on my lap…” Already, we should be horrified. A clear appeal to emotion. She then went on to outline the horrors of the jokes, and how this impacted her and her son who was so sweet and innocent, lying there on her lap whilst she browsed Facebook looking for something to be offended by so as to attract readers to her blog. Whoops – sorry – I strayed from the script. I’ll do my best to crawl back into the lap of gorgeous conformity of thought and morality.

She went on, in her stunning and brave blog-post, to outline the horrible jokes she had seen within; jokes so foul and horrible as to wreak havoc on the green and sacred fields of the hallowed earth upon which we had thread up until this point; fields that were now besmirched and ruined by the creepy-crawling of jokes and humour so crude and offensive as to de-consecrate the fields and turn them into rotting marshes. They might as well have salted the earth so that nothing would ever grow again.

I can’t remember the jokes. I will absolutely admit that they were crude. That they were offensive. Seeing as that was the whole point of the group in question, I struggle to comprehend why this was shocking to this stunning and brave woman. But there you have it.

In this blog-post, she posted courageous screenshots of the jokes as well as the perpetrators of the jokes. Full names and all. Obviously at the expense, yet again, of her own emotional safety. She told that she had no qualms in showing their full names, because they deserved all they could get. In her words.

Fifty lashes in the town square. Death and dismemberment. Social ostracising. Being put in the laughing stock and publicly shamed. They deserved it all. For the crime of telling crude jokes in a private group on Facebook, which she infiltrated. Were I cynical, I might say that the entire reason for her doing this was to attract followers to her blog. Were I cynical, I might say that she was looking for something to be offended about so as to offend others and turn them on this group. Were I cynical, I might say that this was nothing but a grab for attention on her part; a quest to show her moral superiority and boost her superficial ego at the expense of someone she did not know, whose crimes amounted to nothing but telling crude jokes. But I am not cynical. I’m not allowed to be cynical by the moral crusaders. I must, at all times, be offended and show my moral superiority. Reason has no place here. This is the current year, after all!

Following her original blog-post, everyone was up in arms for weeks about this travesty. How dare these men tell jokes? And the shaming began. The newspaper articles, the politicians, the facebook-hangers-on and various and sundry all showed up in uniform groups to show their solidarity and their morality; to showcase their virtue and dignity and to shame, shame, shame anyone who dared go against the narrative of these men being evil incarnate for telling crude jokes. Whilst the original blog-post and writer of said piece, who very clearly invited violence upon these foul perpetrators of humorous assault through her saying that they deserved all they could get and thus clearly broke the law of the land, was painted as a whistle-blower of immense grace, moral purity and virtue. For some strange and inexplicable reason.

The fact that a website with a forum, dedicated to and focused on, women, had hosted for years two threads on said forum with titles such as “share your most offensive jokes”, wherein lied hidden the same crude jokes that were shared within this horrible den of misogyny and rape were mentioned but once in a newspaper article that was promptly ignored by all and sundry. This did not matter. We had our sacrificial goats. We had our men to whip into shamed submission and drive into the desert to appease the demons and soothe the gods. Because only men are capable of such heinous acts as ballistic assault jokes. And at the very least, only men shall be shamed for it. And, besides, the crude jokes within the forum for women were probably posted by men anyway. Women are the light and the saviours and the holders and banner-carriers of our shared morality. And don’t you forget it, bucko.

And the amount of hysteria surrounding this happening was such that I gave up on arguing my point that this was nothing but jokes. There were no reasoning with these people. There was no reason to be found, as the outrage machine went on generating outrage. There was no empathy to be found for the men who were shamed, vilified and threatened severely for telling jokes and nothing but jokes. The madness had begun. The sickness had eaten into the heart of the public, and the public demanded blood. Not one could argue why, nor could they argue against the points I brought up with anything but “My hurt fee-fees”.

That people had all the right in the world to tell jokes, even when the jokes were offensive, did not matter. When I inquired as to whether or not followers of this moral outrage had ever told an offensive joke themselves, I was met with derailing and perplexed silence. Perceived moral superiority above all, and not one semblance of introspection or empathy. “I might have told crude jokes, but these are worse”. Meaning: I am clean and holier than thou, and how dare you imply that jokes are nothing but jokes, or that people are allowed to tell jokes which offend my delicate sensibilities? There is no reason to be found when a mob has decided to charge. And the speed at which the outrage comes and is generated leaves no room to stop and no room to think. Part of the group, the click, the anthill, the mob. People jump on the latest outrage without a second thought, and are incapable of seeing more than their side – that is – the side of the mob; the hive-mind mentality of a mass of worms burrowing through the ground. There is no room for thought, no room for anything but the split-second emotional reaction.

In my more vengeful moments, I hope that they will have to face down the mob themselves one day, and that they will learn something from it. But they won’t. Having to face down an outraged mob themselves, they will be the victims and they will not learn anything because they will already have forgotten the outrage-mob they were part of; painted as a force fighting for good and nothing more. What we do unto others does not matter, and when others do unto us, it is evil and wicked. We have strayed so far from reason that madness is the only path left to thread. We have strayed so far from empathy, compassion and understanding of others that we paint the lack of empathy, compassion and understanding of others as empathy, compassion and understanding of others. We are so caught up in not offending that we do not care who or what we kill when looking to not offend. And, as stated before, someone will be offended no matter what.

What is left to do then? Kill all discourse, censor all lest someone, somewhere, gets their feelings hurt. That can be the only conceivable end-result, if all are to be treated equally in the unifying ideal of non-offense. No one must speak, lest someone gets offended. And my feelings are more important than your speech, your expression, your opinion. Only one opinion is valid, and that opinion is the one I hold. Because I, in my absolute grace and impeccable virtue, never offend but hold the truth and nothing but the truth. This is what we are seeing in the current cultural climate. This is the path we are slip-sliding down; so comfortable and so bored and so devoid of any real struggles that the only battle left to fight is to fight for our right to not get our feelings hurt by someone whose opinion or sense of humour differs slightly from our own.

  • Moiret Allegiere, 16.02.2019

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To Offend or Not to Offend, that is the Question; (Or: Unashamedly Smiling in Caucasian):

Portrait artist smallish dogs A4 Lowres

Ill: «A Portrait of the Artist with Two Smallish Dogs», A4, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

 

In this era of instant gratification and of taking immediate offence, we as a culture have become unable to think things through before reacting. Our 24 hour news cycle is so broken and dishonest as to be completely discarded. Journalists are more activists than journalists, and have forgotten even the simplest fact-checking and the basics of journalistic integrity and honesty. We are not served a neutral view of the happenings and goings-on. We are served a highly subjective set of opinions on a silver platter, cleverly disguised as the facts, and nothing more. Often with footage so disgustingly taken out of context that it is nothing but lies to manipulate public opinion. This is not the job of the media. They are supposed to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth (so help them God). They are not supposed to tell us what to think and what to believe. Yet, that is what is happening. With frightening regularity.

And we gobble it up with delight. And we shake our heads and our fists at the latest generated outrage, never stopping to think that there might not be a genuine reason for outrage this time around. Better to be part of it, take part of it, show our discontent and our offence and our outrage no matter the actual truth of the matter. Better to be seen as a person of immaculate virtue immediately than postpone judgement until more information may be analysed. Information is coming at us at such incredible speeds that we never take the time to pause and consider the information received, that we never pause and await additional information.

We don’t have the time. It takes but a small photograph, and we are locked in the fuming and steaming outrage-machine of the internet, taking to whatever social media is open in one of our seven-thousand open browser-tabs to immediately showcase our discontent and extreme outrage at this disgusting display of the whatever-or-whichever-or-what-have-yous, lest we lose face in the eyes of our internet-acquaintances and lose touch with our sense of moral superiority. Let us never forget the five sacred words of the grievance-fuelled and perpetually outraged movement: “I’m fucking better than you!”; a perfect picture of our day-and-age, where immediate displays of moral superiority are far more important than well thought out and pondered arguments and values. Where the immediate gratification and satisfaction of being liked, shared and agreed upon with and by our fellows is far more important than thinking and analysing critically the information received. Where it is more important to showcase oneself as a being of immaculate virtue and moral purity than it is to be intellectually consistent, honest and of an open mind. Chained to the walls of the immediate feedback-loop, we act before we think and we think only to act immediately.

We are caught in the throes of ecstasy; the outrage-culture that spawned a thousand imbeciles incapable of seeing what is actually happening and then being incapable of admitting to being in the wrong or doing wrong when presented with clear-as-the-fucking-day evidence to the contrary of their claims.

Step lightly and walk on eggshells all the time, so as not to offend anyone. Never assume that people will actually consider what you are saying. Assume that they will react with immediate emotional knee-jerks, if you stray from the path. Never assume that people will not take offence to your words if you stray but a little from the path. Everything is controversial to someone, and everyone needs to have their feelings considered as holy and untouchable. Except white cis-het men, of course.

We have reached a point where someone having their feelings hurt are more important than facts, more important than the truth. This causes us to not have discussions that are of the utmost importance. We see speeches shut down and conferences protested into oblivion by myriad people who have no idea what is actually being spoken in said speech, or discussed at said conferences. They just want it shut down, because someone told them that it should be and they will be damned if they don’t agree and join the mob and protest the latest incarnation and amalgamation of Adolf Hitler and the Devil himself.

We see protesters taking to the streets in grand unified mobs, merging together and becoming a wild starry-eyed blob of flesh and blood and bones and tears and snot and outrage, with not a single one of the protesters being able to tell interviewers on the streets what they are actually protesting. They just feel the need to be there in solidarity; part of the mob, part of the outrage, part of the social group, the click, the hive, the anthill. The individual dies when faced with the moral outrage of the outrage-machine grinding its way through our morality in perpetual astonished outrage; a mass of worms wearing their emotions on their sleeves and their heads up their collective ass. When questioned about their stance, their actions, their opinions, communication breaks down and discourse is reduced to wild personal insults and applications of the latest and greatest buzzwords of the day; you asshole-nazi-misogynist-white-supremacist-alt-right-sockpuppet-russian-bot-troll-fascist-neckbeard-inbred-basement-dweller-insert-latest-buzzword-and-group-deserving-of-hate-here-please-end-rant.

And for some reason these people are viewed, in the current cultural fever-dream, as the sympathetic group. These people who are responsible for launching a campaign of threats of violence, death and dismemberment at teenagers whose grand crime was smiling in Caucasian and wearing a MAGA-hat when being caught, quite literally, between a rock and a hard place.

I am of course referring to the Covington students. A fitting picture of what I am talking about and a perfect picture of our day-and-age; the outrage generated by this happening so absurd in the face of, you know, the actual facts of the matter, and so immediate and visceral that it proves itself to be nothing but emotions run haywire through minds and bodies absolutely incapable of thinking, waiting, analysing a situation or seeing what new information might crawl out of the ground.

Proof of a grand class of journalists incapable of doing anything but foaming-at-the-mouth, showing no integrity and proving that there is not one speck of reason amongst them. Truth matters not, when the narrative of the wicked white male and his oppressor-nature may be pushed forward. And these people are so used to never facing any consequences for their actions that they just ran with it, just run with, as far as they may take it. And then double down on it, still claiming to be in the right even when proven without a shadow of a doubt to be in the wrong. An inability to admit to being in the wrong brought on by the grand sense of moral superiority, the glory of the dopamine burst, the selfish and egotistical, solipsist, me-me-me-and-only-me social movement parading as altruism, yet proving only selfishness, lack of insight and lack of self-awareness. “It’s not about me, I promise, honest. It’s about the plight of whoever. Honest. Cross my heart and hope to die. Ah shit, is it offensive to say ‘cross my heart’? Ah, shit, is it offensive to say ‘shit’?

The emperor has no clothes. It has been pointed out, time and again. And it does not matter. Because the latest disease spawned at the hearts of our shared western culture is a moral malaise that will not end. It is a moral panic and a chastity-crusade manufactured in the daydreams of people whose absolute egotistical selfishness is masked as altruism; people who hop on the latest bandwagon of immediate offence to get their own egotistical wishes for group inclusion granted under the pretence that it is for the good of insert-supposedly-disenfranchised-and-marginalized-group-here.

Followed by masses of people jumping on the cause, immediately, never thinking it through and never considering it properly because it is packaged so nicely and so neatly and so beautifully in the wishes to do good for all that one has to be an extreme bigot to even consider saying something contrary. Even at the expense of other people and their right to express their views and opinion, they will hop on the cause. Even at the expense of freedom of speech, they will hop on the cause. Before the cause is forgotten and exchanged for some other nonsensical cause generated by social media. And the extreme speed at which it comes and goes matters not, and it will be forgotten and it will not be forgotten and every cause is important and every single personal grievance is a cause so grand and so extreme that someone needs to be punished for it, someone must be made to carry the weight of it, to carry the cross, and be crucified for it. Even if not true. Even if completely false. Even if it is absolutely nothing but trivial, someone needs to be crucified and die for our sins so that we may feel clean again. Until the next day, the next news-cycle, the next wrench is thrown into the machinery of the outrage-culture and it all starts again, and again, and again, with no repercussions and nothing learned from no one involved but the perceived fact that they are now, and always have been, in the right. Because they are fucking better than us. And you had damned well better be aware of that fact by now, buddy-boy.

People have become so lost in their own self-aggrandizement that they are completely unable to say “Sorry, I fucked up” when they do fuck up. And people are so caught up in the constant bombardment of information – information coming in at super-sonic speeds – that they do not stop and they do not think and they do not consider anything beyond a headline, a picture, a snippet of a video or a sentence, whether in context or not, before they roar and screech and scream enraged and let themselves be engulfed with just and righteous proper rage.

And so we, as a society, forget our history. We forget the satanic panic, we forget the witch-hunts, we forget every previous moral panic and outrage-epidemic of our shared history. We think that this time, we’ve got it right. This time, the panic is proper, this time the outrage is true, this time, the guilty shall be judged. And we do not care what falls as a result of this outrage. We do not care that freedom of speech is being eroded gradually beneath our feet, because that is just the hate-speech, the offensive words, the naughty Nazis losing their right to hate and destroy and wreak havoc on the world.

We do not stop to think that the rules and laws and regulations we are trying to put into place in order to protect any feelings that might be hurt may just as easily be used against ourselves, should we fall out of line. And the reason we do not think this is because we do not stop to pause and to consider that maybe we are not ourselves always in the right; maybe we ourselves may be in the wrong.

We do not take the time to ponder our own convictions. We do not have the time. Because the immediate dopamine burst, the immediate gratification, the impatient natures our cultures have devolved into, requires our attention all the time; a 15-second attention span dedicated to the latest knee-jerk, the latest outrage, the latest so-called Nazi being allowed to speak his or hers so-called hate to an auditorium of willing listener, whom we perceive as just as immediate and easily-led as ourselves.

Shut it down.

Shut down everything contrary to our feelings. Shut it down. Because feelings are facts. How could they not be, when they feel so immediate, so visceral, so gut-wrenchingly real? We feel – “feel” being the dominant word – that these people should not be allowed to speak. Because their words make us feel bad. And we feel like these other people should be allowed to speak, because their words make us feel good. And we don’t even consider that maybe the words that make us feel good makes other people feel bad, because that is absolutely impossible as only we are ever in the right and only they are ever in the wrong. It is impossible to conceive of anyone not evil taking offence to our words, whereas anyone not taking offence to their words are clearly evil. Because that is how it feels and so it must be true, we figured it out in fifteen seconds of high-strung emotions, thank you very much, and so it is true. Because it must be true, because it feels as though it is true.

Outrage culture thrives on othering. It is a wretched hive of scum and villainy, so determined to kill all voices not in alignment with their rapidly shifting and changing virtues, emotions and rage that they stoop to labelling as absolute hatred all voices contrary to their own and othering them to such an extent that it does not matter what happens to them, because they do not view them as human beings but as forces of evil, hell bent on destroying the world and everyone in them.

Labels such as Nazi or White Supremacist or Far-right bigot or Misogynist or Racist or Homophobic or Islamophobic or Sexist is thrown around and placed upon people with whom they might just merely disagree; labels of political extremity placed upon people who do not belong to any extreme, who do not agree with these labels but whose voice on whether or not they deserve this label is ignored by the ones who have decided that this is the correct label/labels for them. Which is absurdly ironic, considering the outrage-machine and their outrage at someone being deemed to be of the wrong gender – that is, the crime of misgendering someone. Referring to someone by the wrong pronoun is a crime so heinous that all other conversation need to be shut down in order to remedy it.

Labelling someone a Nazi who is clearly not a Nazi for merely stating an opinion or presenting evidence to the contrary of the dominant cultural narrative, however, is quite alright. Because clearly he or she is a Nazi. If not now, then later on down the line, they will evolve into a fully fledged Nazi, jackboots and Zyklon-B at the ready. It is insanity. Pure, unbridled, balls-and-ovaries-to-the-walls insanity; egotism and selfishness extreme disguised as altruism. Anything not falling into line with true and proper speech and thought is wrong and offensive. And being offensive is the worst one can be. Because that is how it feels and that is, quite frankly, that.

And as for me; I do not try to be offensive with my writings. I do not try to provoke. I do not even try to be controversial. I am not interested in generating controversy or outrage or offence or provocation. I consider my writings and my opinions to be very tame – neither controversial nor offensive, merely common sense. Even if I do ramble on and on, often with no end in sight.

I do not consider my views or myself aligned with any extreme. Yet I am labelled a foul misogynist, a hater of women and of equality.

I hold as the core of my values the belief that everyone should be allowed to speak their mind. That there should be no limitations placed on peoples right to express their opinion, no matter how banal, stupid, evil, bad, wrong, hateful, bigoted, whatever, they are.

Should I open up to the suggestion that people whose views I disagree with, even views I disagree vehemently with and consider pure and utter hatred, should be banned by governmental decree and punished by law, I also open up to the suggestion that people who find my views and opinions to be pure filth may place punishments on me for voicing my opinion. And trust me: there are more than enough people who consider my views to be pure filth and radiant hatred, even though my views are very tame and far from any extreme. They are, quite simply, not able to see beyond their own bias in regards to feminism and the doctrine of feminism. To such an extent that they do not see what I have written or hear what I have said. Blindfolded and limited by ideology.

I do not wish my rights to express myself being infringed upon. And in having the right to express myself, I also have the right to offend. Because somewhere, someone will find something to be offended about, no matter what you say, write or express.

In not wanting my right to express myself infringed upon, I can not possibly wish that anyone else have their right to express themselves infringed upon. That would be holding double standards, instead of holding everyone to the same standard. I would not wish even the most radically misandrist feminist man-hater be denied her right to openly spew her hatred. Opening that door will quickly open another door. And before you know it, nothing is allowed speech. Expecting that people with whom one may disagree should not have the same rights to express themselves as oneself is far from egalitarian and far removed from all being treated equally.

That, my friends, is supremacy.

The notion that one set of ideas should be the only ones allowed to be expressed, at the expense and governmentally sanctioned suppression of other ideas, is not equality, is not treating everyone equally. It is treating one better than the other, at the expense of the other.

Label my speech as hate-speech as much as you want. Somewhere, someone will label your speech as hate-speech. And opening the doors to shut down “hate-speech” will eventually lead to your own speech being shut down. And you can not protest this, because you fought to implement it.

Who in the grandstanding moral intersection of fuckery and dim-wittery gets to decide what is and what is not offensive? How does one even chose who and what and how and where and when?

Rules applied evenly across the board, in the great dystopian Social Justice future where all are equal except the ones who are more equal than others. And the ones who are more equal than others are the ones who currently hold the power. And that may change and that may shift, and so too does the cultural Zeitgeist. Do not for one second believe that laws on allowed speech which are currently in your favour will not turn around and bite you in the ass. Slip. Slide. Welcome to governed speech. Say this. Do not say that. Should you say that, we will bring the full fury of the hate-speech-patrols down on your head, you filthy bigoted hatemonger, you.

Needless to say, I am not in favour of governing speech. There are few exceptions to this rule, of course. No rule without exceptions, as the saying goes. Don’t shout “Fire” in a crowded room is clearly one of them, and a perfect and classic example of expression that may lead someone else to come to severe harm. Ever seen a room full of people caught in panic? It ain’t pretty. Saying “Go kill him, he’s a Muslim.” is not the same as saying “I don’t like Muslims”. Feel free to exchange “Muslim” for whatever group you want, of course, and the sentiment remains. Expressions should not be persecuted, unless there are overwhelming evidence that someone might act violently and as such bring harm upon someone else. “Harmful speech” is a nonsense-term. I wonder if “Kill all men” is considered hateful rhetoric?

Bah, humbug.

The Social Justice Hive-mind call to censor speech is nothing but yet another proof of their eternal quest for power and control and governance. And that is all it fucking is. Claiming altruism when all they want is total control of the discourse. Oooooooh, someone may be hurt, aaaaaaaaaaaah, someone might feel bad. Meaning: “I, personally, don’t like this. And so no-one should, could, would or may or might enjoy it, actually agree with or hold those opinions. Ban it.” For theirs is the power and the might and the outrage, for now until forever. A-fucking-intersect-men.

Besides, bad ideas show themselves for what they are when allowed to be expressed, and they will face the scrutiny of public opinion and be judged on their merit. Even if common sense ain’t common. Even if offence taken is more common than offence given. To offend or not to offend, that is the question. And the answer? Fuck it – I’m good.

  • Moiret Allegiere, 09.02.2019

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https://gab.ai/Moiret_Allegiere

Minds:

https://www.minds.com/Moiret

Flickr:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/152465815@N04/