Why I am an Anti-feminist, part 11

«Mid-day Greetings»

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

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

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

And Barbie is a slim woman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A plastic doll.

A doll made from plastic.

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

She is, in fact, a plastic doll.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See – I can do it too.

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

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

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

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

Because nothing else matters.

And that is all that there is to that.

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

Because nothing else matters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The horror!

The Horror!

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.

…Ford Transit Gloria Mundi…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Why I am an Anti-feminist, part 10:

«Morning Greetings»

From http://www.etymonline.com:

Rape (v.)

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

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

Rape (n.1)

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

Rape (n.2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh boy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I say this only partly in jest.

That is the most frightening thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, I digress.

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

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

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

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

Fourth: rinse and repeat.

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

They do not need to speak truth to power.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 30.11.2019

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

Howling at a Slutwalk Moon, a collection of previous blog posts:
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Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
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Tomorrow Seems So Long Ago

«Portrait of a sleeping dog»

Yesterday seems so long ago.

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

Yesterday seems so long ago.

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

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

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

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

Yesterday seems so long ago.

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow seems so long ago.

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

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

Tomorrow seems so long ago.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow seems so long ago.

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

Human morality, apparently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And we accept and carry on.

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

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

Tomorrow seems so long ago.

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 27.11.2019

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

Howling at a Slutwalk Moon, a collection of previous blog posts:
Vol 1 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/107571074X
Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
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Why I am an Anti-feminist, part 9

«Despair», Moiret Allegiere, 2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


The lot of them!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honk honk.

And shut the fuck up, fuck-face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 23.11.2019

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Why I am an Anti-feminist, part 8

«Prelude to Despair», Moiret Allegiere, 2019

Everything within feminism is viewed through an ideological framework. Ideology does not necessarily equal reality. So much of their world-view is tainted and painted and corrupted by the blank slate theory.

Feminism tend to view just about everything within society as some manner of ideology and/or -ism. This includes masculinity, which they – in their kindness and inclusivity – have decided is an ideology and not a natural state of being for men.

This is an incredibly weird thing to say. It is par for the course in the current year of the gobble-de-gook, however, and as such must be accepted without question. Of course.

This line of thought has forced its way into the school of psychology, with the new guidelines of the APA for dealing with men and boys referring to masculinity as an ideology and as such something that must be combatted and conquered by men seeking psychological treatment. This does not apply to femininity, as one would expect. Though I am far from being a psychiatrist – thank God and high heavens – I can not help but see the writing on the wall: There is something wrong with boys and men due to them being boys and men that must be fixed before one can tackle the issues that really bother them. Which is an odd way of going about fixing someone that is emotionally scarred and psychologically broken, I will have to admit, as this is pointing to the core of their identity and their being – their very soul, if you will permit me some melodramatic language – and stating that this is the essence of their problems. That is; the core of their being is the essence of their problems. No wonder, then, that boys and men struggle so in this hay-fever society of ours.

This is nothing short of an insult, as well as being bloody dangerous. It ought to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the incredible might and influence feminism holds. Despite them being ever so oppressed… It is very dangerous… Because this means that men and boys who seek psychological treatment will potentially be told that the problem lies in the way they are born – that there is something wrong with them for them being boys, or for them being men. Of course; to the hive-mind, this is not the way they are born – all is learned behaviour, nothing is natural and biological. Which is high level absurdity mimicking Monty Python at their best. Believing that masculinity must be dismantled before boys and men can heal is not helpful to boys and men. Quite the contrary.

It is an incredibly vicious, spiteful and hateful thing. This does not matter, of course. For it is targetting boys and men. And anything that is targetting boys and men has got to be of the good. Because feminism told us that it is, even when they told us that feminism is not about hating boys and men… which falls flat on its face the moment one takes a look at them. If it is not about hating boys and men, why, then, prey tell, do they target boys and men in this way, attempting to dismantle and re-engineer masculinity itself? The only ones who get to define the identity of men are feminists. Men need not apply. Yet again.

Pray the gay away… and pray the masculine away. One has to be blind to not see the similarities. The language is different, for sure. The obvious religious thing-a-ma-jigger is gone… replaced by a sacrificial serpent-cult masquerading as a secular movement for equal rights. The sentiment is the same. “There is something wrong with this person, which must be untaught through some odd psychological experiment.” Social engineering is scary. And rest assured: social engineering is not a term I use lightly. But what the hell could it possibly be, other than that? Ideology has usurped reason as well as common bloody god-damned sense. If I sound paranoid, I would like to quote Joseph Heller, Catch 22: “just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you”.

Oh, but we want to help boys and men, they say, they just have to unlearn what makes them boys and men first.

Anyone looking at this and claiming it to be of the good are off their heads on some drugs which I would not mind getting a taste of for a weekend of wild and frivolous fun. Must be fun to experience such a disconnect from reality, to be transported deep into la-la land and yet remain a – seemingly – functional member of society… potential brain-damage and other lasting side-effects from hair-dye the colour of danger notwithstanding. They’ve got some unbelievably potent drugs, no doubt delivered them by some shady government goon perpetrating some dubious under-handed dealings in a two-faced banana republic. But I am sidetracking again. Sometimes, I just tire of my painkillers and caffeine, is all I’m saying. And Friday binges of wine and Rock N Roll will only get me so far… Variety is the spice of life, as they say. At times, one just need a good dose of delirium-inducing chemicals to make it through the day. And to become a professor of psychology… Or a public intellectual, for that matter. Academia, thy name has become poop.

With these new guidelines, therapy can not help but become essentially destructive for men. Nothing good can ever come from denying men their humanity – which, for all intents and purposes – claiming masculinity to be an ideology, claiming that manliness, that manhood or whatever you want to call it, is something learned more than it is something innate and natural – is. It is a perplexing display of absolute disregard for the well-being and the humanity of boys and men.

But, hold on now, wait a minute minute would you please? It is only referring to toxic masculinity, those destructive traits that are only something men do, which does not refer to masculinity at all, except when it does… for reasons of this fucking insulting and belittling term referring to whichever masculine trait the feminist in question would like to destroy in that moment… the opportunists are at it again. This term refers to whatever is most suitable at the moment it is spoken, written or used in any way, shape or form…

What about toxic femininity, then? Would that be a term deemed suitable for common parlance, your shady highness? Or would that be considered highly sexist, even if used only to refer to those feminine traits that are destructive which only women steeped in toxic femininity would partake in? Worst case of estrogen-poisoning I have ever seen comes from the foaming mouths of academic feminism, pretending this absolute and abhorrent hatred of men and masculinity to be fundamentally empathetic to the plight of boys and men. If “toxic femininity” and “estrogen-poisoning” offends you, but “toxic masculinity” and “testosterone-poisoning” does not, I am afraid I have to tell you that you are a hypocrite of the highest order.

These guidelines, this ideology, this social engineering disguised as compassion is presented in such a way that opposition to it proves their point. It is insulting, infuriating and indefensible. As far as I have come to understand it, the problem is not masculinity. Quite the contrary. It is a lack of masculinity.

That is to say: it is a lack of positive masculine role-models for boys and young men. Boys that grow up without fathers in the home fare far worse in life than boys who grow up with fathers in the home. Single motherhood is a problem, albeit one people are reluctant to tackle. For that is insulting to the single mothers out there. They can not have their feelings hurt. That would not be politically correct. One can insult fathers as much as one could only wish.

…But don’t you dare say anything against mothers, despite stating the obvious fact that children need their fathers in their lives has nothing to do with mothers as such, but all to do with fathers… and their children.

The point is not that single mothers don’t do a decent job. Nor that they are unable or unfit parents. Some are. And some are not. Nor is the point pointing fingers at the father or the mother. Whoever caused the absence of the father is immaterial. It is besides the point. The point is that they only fulfil one parental role. This leaves a hole in the life of the child. It leaves a piece of them untended to. Because both parental roles need to be filled. The masculine and the feminine working together is needed and necessary for a child to be complete. Feminism has made no secret of their attempts – and success, I would dare say, to destroy and dismantle the nuclear family. They are proud of it, they brag about it and they celebrate it.

It is sickening. And still, it is accepted. Women are wonderful, dont’cha know, no matter what. A sentiment weaponized by the fierce fighters for equal treatment… Women can do no bad, men can do no good. By their nature. Despite this nature not existing but being taught.

Yet again, one need only lift the covers of the serpent-cult to see this. One need only look to how fathers are presented in movies and on television, in regular programming and in commercials, to see how little regard our societies have for the role and input of fathers in the lives of their children. And then one can look to how mothers are presented… particularly, this goes for sit-coms and other such quick-and-easy shit-fixes.

Fathers are usually bumbling buffoons, engaging in some silly and eventually futile endeavour which the mother then fixes, using common sense or her higher sense of morality, justice and intelligence. Which tend to be the view held in society overall where fathers and mothers are concerned. Mothers are empathetic and caring and nurturing, fathers are not.

Of course; I do understand the use of stereotypes in comedy. And I quite enjoy it myself, laughing and giggling like a schoolgirl every time Randy Marsh from South Park – for example – breaks out in one of his incredible fits of stupidity. South Park, however, is a balanced show. It kicks in all directions, and nothing is sacred. It may be a poor example, come to think of it.

…A better example might be the Simpsons, which were pretty good for their first twelve seasons or so, then devolved into a mass of worms and wishes, begging us to kill it and put it out of its misery.

The women of Springfield are, by and large, presented in a much better light than the men of Springfield. And to be clear and to be perfectly honest, this is not something that offends me. Or bothers me.

I mention it because it does paint a picture of society, which is this: men can be poked fun at. Fathers can be poked fun at. Women can not. Nor can mothers. This is something seen time and again, with the feminist hive-mind getting all up in arms at the slightest joke at the expense of women in general. Or if women are not presented as the living embodiment of all that is good and true and pure and noble and clean… Or if women are killed on the screen… It is the double-standards that piss me off. As it always is. Poke fun at men and at fathers as much as you wish. Crying sexism when women and mothers are poked fun at whilst laughing when men and fathers are poked fun at does not make sense, when claiming to seek equal treatment of the sexes.

Most men don’t mind men and fathers being poked fun at. In fact, we will probably laugh alongside it, seeing a bit of ourselves in the character and harbouring some self-deprecating humour which seem to be lacking in most modern women, feminist or not.

Point is: you had better be damned fucking sure that equal treatment of the sexes means that women and mothers are also free game for comedy. Because that is actual equal treatment. Not putting women on a pedestal where they are to never be laughed at for fear of offending their noble and delicate female sensibilities. Oh, the swoon… and the gasp… and the eternal offence.

Both men and women, fathers and mothers, boys and girls, sons and daughters, have their silly little idiosyncrasies, their silly little things that can be generalized and poked fun at. When it is only accepted towards the one and not the other, we have a double-standard on our hands and at our feet.

And it is becoming increasingly so, with our mass-media pundits proclaiming any-and-all stereotyping of women or of mothers as some horrible affront to women and to mothers. Instead of them merely being poked fun at, just as men and fathers are. That is to say: instead of them being treated equally to men. Yet, they see only one thing. And that thing is only what they want to see. All else is hidden behind a glowing veil of contempt, ideology and wilful blindness. As well as pure ignorance, indoctrination and idiocy.

Of course, quick and vapid entertainment media is just that: quick fixes, cheap laughs and nothing to think too much about. Overanalysing may be fun for a while, but in the end it is just that: overthinking something which does not necessarily warrant that much thought.

Let fiction be.

Leave fiction alone.

I only mention it because feminism does so; pointing to this and to that as some terrible affront to womanhood, whilst being blind to this and to that simultaneously being just as much a terrible affront to manhood. If one chooses to view it in that light. Feminism makes the claim that women are sexually objectified in movies. Oddly enough, they disregard the thousands of men that are blown to bits and used simply as cannon-fodder in movies, existing only for a split-second on the screen to be blown to bits. Which is worse, I wonder, if one is to analyse it to death and beyond instead of enjoying a piece of art? And what does this tell us about society and its view of men? I’ll let you fill in the blanks yourself.

Of far more concern than bloody fiction is the push we have seen in later years from feminism to remove father’s day, instead referring to it as “special persons day”. Because some children do not have fathers in their lives, ya know, and so this celebration of fathers is absolutely terrible. Some children do not have mothers in their lives either, yet there is oddly enough no push to remove mother’s day and label that as “second special person’s day”.

Strange that.

Let’s just have a day dedicated to “non-gender specific parental figure A or B”, then everyone would be pleased. Except those that don’t buy into this nonsense. But, of course, we don’t care about those bigots, and so forth and so on.

It is very infuriating to see single mother’s being celebrated on a day dedicated to fathers. Every bloody father’s day, this happens. Let us celebrate single mothers on this day for fathers. Because having one day – one day – to celebrate fathers is absolutely terrible. And having only one day to celebrate mothers is equally terrible. They need at least 365 days. In fact, we ought to lengthen the year so that mothers get more days of celebration.

There can be no one day dedicated to the celebration of men and their contributions, be those contributions to society overall or to their families. Thus, international men’s day is a horribly misogynistic thing, as is fathers day. Do I sound particularly angry today? You are damned right I am. I am pissed off. After years of getting pissed on. Anger is an energy – when it is channelled properly.

Listen: it was either this, or starting a mediocre punk-band. I do believe this is the best option. There are more than enough mediocre punk-bands around. Admittedly, there are more than enough mediocre writers about as well. This is going nowhere… sorry about that.

Mediocrity aside, you must forgive me for not laughing. I find that watering my beard with the bitter tears of societal neglect makes it grow in thicker, fuller and more masculine than ever. Something good has to come of it. On the worst of days, I water my beard with whisky. That is how I get those exotic mushrooms growing in there. My beard is slowly developing a rudimentary form of intelligence. Last year, I caught it stockpiling crumbs of food in anticipation of the looming threat of complete societal breakdown. My beard is a doomsday-prepper. Which, admittedly, removes some of the burden from my tense and overstressed shoulders. In short: I am so god-damned manly that my beard is stockpiling for the apocalypse.

This lack of positive male role models for children – not only boys, though it arguably affects them more than girls – is something society should be concerned about. As is this push to remove any and all celebration of men and of fathers in society, going so far as to label masculinity an ideology instead of something positively distinct to them, something complimentary to femininity. When boys grow up with only feminine influence at home, and at schools – given that an overwhelming amount of teachers are female – they get no positive masculine guidance. There is no good male role model for them to emulate, that may teach them how to control and regulate their emotions.

Because that is what men tend to do; stoicism. It is not that men do not have emotions, not that men do not feel. It is that – by and large – we tend to not allow ourselves to be governed by emotion, overcome by them, and so and such. This is not toxicity. It gives way to problem-solving. Emotional reasoning will not get one very far, as emotions are neither logical or rational. Nor are they stable. Emotions are constantly here or there. It is not a good source of problem-solving.

If one is able to look beyond ones immediate emotional response and think clearly and logically about something, solutions present themselves that do not present themselves when in the throes of some emotional upheaval or other. This goes for whichever emotion, be that emotion positive or negative. Making rash, snap, in-the-moment decisions based on immediate emotion is not smart, and it does not lend itself to longevity.

As an aside: for all the talk from women in general and feminism in particular that men do not deal with their emotions because they do not talk about them like women tend to do… what in the everlasting snoot-waffler do you think male men’s rights activists do when writing our stuff, advocating for what we advocate for and so and such? I would dare say that channelling whichever emotion is the driving force behind a wish for change – assuming, of course, that a lot of the driving force is anger, grief, loss, etcetera – into the work done by MRA’s is a very appropriate way of dealing with, and speaking about, our emotions. For it is a practical way of dealing. Granted, I may very well be speaking only for myself. Though I tend to doubt that. Let it also be made clear that this does not mean that I believe the reasoning is emotional.

It is not that men are not in touch with our emotions. Nor that we suppress them. We deal with them differently than women, by and large. And are, oddly enough, lambasted for doing so. Because it is not done in the way deemed suitable by the feminist horde that calls for us to speak about our emotions the way they would like us to. Which is to admit that our masculinity is wrong and that feminism is correct in all their assertions about men and masculinity. I have told this short tale before, but I will tell it again. Because it is suitable for repetition: Back in my Facebook days, I dared complain about my chronic pain and fatigue being a severe burden on me, and as such limiting my enjoyment of life and making me completely miserable when at their worst. A self-proclaimed feminist aged fifty-something told me to shut up and to not make myself so pitiful. Interesting, I think, to come from the mouths of those who claim to want men to talk about their problems and their emotions. A man in pain, a man in emotional distress, invokes disgust in people. It does not invoke empathy or compassion. It invokes sensations of disgust so extreme that the very same feminists who claim to want men to speak about it see no qualms in kicking a man when he is down. Which is it? Either, we have to talk about it, or we have to “man up”. Very interesting, wouldn’t you say? Even if it is anecdotal and as such will be dismissed immediately by the very same forces that brought us to this point in the first place.

To say that masculine role-models, that men and fathers are important to children, is not to say that women and mothers are not important, do not hold innate values which men do not, which fathers can not teach properly to their children. I absolutely believe that women do, that mothers do.

We have, however, reached a point, in this shady society of ours, where merely saying something positive about men or fathers necessarily must mean stating something negative about women and about mothers. Even when mothers or women are not mentioned. Which is absolutely ridiculous. But there you have it, there we are, here we stand. Women are offended when something positive is said about men.

This is an illness. It is a vast societal psychosis. Probably driven by the same drugs I mentioned previously. Delirium ho, and delirious hos.

Ho fucking ho, and honk bloody honk.

I am writing and speaking about men and the innate values and, dare I even say beauty, which men have. If you want nice, fluffy and pretty things said about women in general, go wherever else you want. Because that is all you will find everywhere else, mostly to the detriment of men.

For that is our societies as they stand today – women shall be celebrated, men shall not. And in order for women to be celebrated, it has been decided that men shall be pushed down. For one could not possibly wish to celebrate both sexes, nor both sexes contributions to society. That would be equal treatment. And heaven’s forbid we should actually see that happening.

I would – quite honestly – have no problems with positive things said about women in general were it not for the fact that these positive things said about women always carry with them – in words, not my assumptions – something negative about men and masculinity. Any feminist article will prove as much. Any building up of women will prove as much. It is not enough to say positive things about women – men must be beat down in very clear and concise terms. Or men must be locked out from this or from that educational thing or work-related thing. Girl power ho, and no boys allowed. Which is positive discrimination, instead of being… you know… just discrimination based on sex.

The gender-war is manufactured nonsense, as stated time and again. Both can be celebrated, you know. There really is no need to tear the other down.


I wish I were not born into the peak of the war, into the feminist take-over, into the dystopian future-turned-present. Yet, I am, and so I must go to war myself. Though, I would dare say I am at war against an ideology, not a sex. For gender and sex is not an ideology, nor are they solely a construct. Biology plays a part. A huge part. Of course culture and society plays a part. I find it ridiculous to think that they play the only part, or the biggest part, for that matter. And feminism does not equal women. These ideologues can all go suck the juice of a lemon dripping from their own eyeballs. I am getting tired of this shit. As are many, many more. Both men and women.

Yet, they keep gaining ground. And it is an absurdity how they are able to lie and lie and be debunked time and again, yet still carry on as though the truth does not matter. It is an obscenity how this ideology – how the thought-leaders of the -ism – can spread their hatred, lay forth their calls for violence to be enacted upon men for no other reason than them being men – and get away with it, gain massive societal support and carry on as though nothing happened. For they are not real feminist women, even when they are. And it is quite alright to call for all men to be killed, because that is punching up… even when all the negative statistics are filled to the brim with boys and men. And yet, the empathy-gap is not real. Because women have periods and get pregnant. Yes. This was delivered me as an argument against men and boys being met with less empathy in society. I kid you not. Feminism, thy name is… blargh.

The upper reaches of society may be filled with men… but to look at society overall and claim that men are somehow privileged for their sex is disingenuous to the extreme. The lower depths of society are also filled with men. Applying the same logic, one would say that men are not privileged. Quite the contrary. This does not reach the fevered minds of the ideologues, the hive-mind, the wilfully blind victim-seekers. For it does not fit the narrative. Patriarchy hurts men too, even when it helps men. Herp goes the Derp in the hurr-durr meadows.

Men who tend towards violence are violent for a reason. It is not because of masculinity. It is a lack of masculinity. It is neglect. It is abuse. It is a multitude of factors. A child is not born defective, is not born violent. Boys are not defective at birth, nor are they violent because of the ideology of masculinity. That claim is so insulting that it ought to be curb-stomped into oblivion.

Just as there is nothing innately wrong with femininity, there is nothing innately wrong with masculinity. This is not to say that everything is biological and nothing is social – that would be a silly statement. Just as silly as claiming the opposite. It is a bit of both, as I have come to understand it. Though understanding how much of each is not that easy. Add into this that society is built upon and around behaviours, traits, factors and so and such that may very well be biological, and you’ve got yourself a confusing cake-conundrum that I am in no way qualified to cut with any amount of certainty.

What can be stated with certainty, however, even from a nincompoopish loser on this lonely corner of the internet such as myself, is the very simple thing that human beings are biological creatures. That the bodies of men and of women are different, are designed for different things. To believe that the brains have not evolved to supplement – to work in tandem – with these different bodies is self-fellating absurdity. That is believing that the brain is not part of the body, that the brain is some separate entity. We are not, to paraphrase Alan Watts, merely a body dangling from a brain… If we were, I struggle to see how psychosomatic illness could be a thing, for example… There is a great connection between brain and body and body and brain. This ought to be obvious, as the brain is not separate from the body and as such is influenced by the body and all the weird chemicals floating around in it. And vice versa.

Here endeth part eight. Join me next week, if you are ready, willing and able, for part nine. Lest I succumb to madness and despair, shave my beard, my hair and my legs… clothe myself in a mu-mu and refer to myself as Mother Cyanide… and start my own cult where the carrots are the all-powerful god-head and the ones that really rule the earth.

…Incidentally, this carrot-based religion is actually something I tried to create back in the day, when some random woman on the internet tried to seduce me with tales of tiny snack-carrots and ranch-dressing. But that, I think, will have to be told another time.

Stay of the psychiatric medication, kids – it’ll make you completely and utterly insane.

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 16.11.2019

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

Howling at a Slutwalk Moon, a collection of previous blog posts:
Vol 1 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/107571074X
Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
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Why I am an Anti-feminist, part 7

«Selfportrait as a jester, a rogue and a bit of a bastard»

This wilful misunderstanding of the social game as well as the sexual game tuned us onto a frighteningly forceful application of new rules and guidelines that don’t really work in accordance with how human beings interact.

Quite a lot of our interaction and our communication is non-verbal, based on body-language… subtle hints and movements and changes in tone and mannerisms.

Which is why, for example, sarcasm is so difficult to read that Redditors tend to use that “/s” to indicate smart-ass sarcasm. Otherwise, it is taken as serious. For lack of body-language and tone of voice. Given that our communication these days tend to be more written than it is spoken, more digital than it is physical… I wonder if we have not removed ourselves too quickly and too hastily from physicality, confusing ourselves to believe that the rules of face-to-face communication need to mirror that of written communication, instead of the other way around?

Or – more frightening – that the lack of physicality, the lack of body-language has created a generation incapable of reading, using and comprehending body-language? To such an extent that a friendly touching of the arm or the shoulder can be interpreted as some terrible affront, something akin to assault – or sexual assault. As we have seen at least one dude – young, shy, awkward teen – be sentenced to a fine of 250 GBP and five fucking years on the sex offender registry for touching a girl on the arm and the waist on two separate occasions. What used to be normal human interaction is now considered a terrible trespass on someone else’s bodily autonomy…

This should be terrifying. It should be a sign that we – that is the western world – are declining rapidly into our own undoing. When someone can be judged and sentenced – by law – for something so minor, so petty, so insignificant, we are not on the right track. Not as a society, not as a civilization and not as a people. If we have become so frail that we can not handle normal human interaction without breaking down in hysterics, spending social resources… no, wasting social resources and time, we are manufacturing our own doom and demise. Now, of course, it is only women who are allowed to be so frail – men still have to put up with just about anything this shambling mess of a society can throw our way. Any complaints will bring shame and ridicule our way, and loads of non-arguments, stupidity and personal attacks from arrogant imbeciles floating in the steaming pile of their own hubris. That hubris has the same aroma and texture as grade-A Bullshit, by the way.

On Friday, the 25th of October, I was out walking my dogs. I was approached by a cute lil’ old lady. She seemed to be in her mid-to-late seventies, though she might have been older. This lil’ old lady was all smiles and laughter, complimented me on my beard – actually touched it, then proceeded to touch my arm and told me that she enjoyed seeing men having beards nowadays. On account of masculinity. We then chit-chatted for a little while, before we parted ways with a “good-bye” and a friendly waving of the hands. Body-language again.

This small chance encounter made my day, if I am to be perfectly honest. It was one of those slightly surreal every-day happenings that don’t mean all that much, but can bring about quite a lot of joy. It is those small things that make a difference. That is what ought to be cherished. And remembered.

Such small things – such tiny compliments – I believe, is particularly important to men who seldom – if ever – receive compliments on their appearance. Or compliments at all, for that matter. Which is a sad state of affairs all on its own. It says a lot about our societies, though I can not possibly comment on that without the inevitable “male tears” and “fragile male ego” nonsense from the very empathetic feminist squads hiding in the bushes and believing themselves to be above any form of criticism.

Such small gestures of kindness is just that – small gestures of kindness – unless you are caught in the throes of hysterics, lured into the belief that everyone is out to get you. Which is what feminism has managed to lure women into believing – that all men are out to get them, preferably for rape – with or without given consent (heh) – but quite possibly and probably also for violence and murder.

This is nothing but fear-mongering, akin to psychological terrorism, for all I care.

This fear-mongering is perpetrated to such an extent that what used to be normal human interaction – light touches, friendly gestures of intimacy, trust and bonding – or a friendly invitation to intimacy, trust and bonding – is now considered threatening, is now considered violence, is now considered assault or sexual assault… if it is a man doing it. And, no, intimacy does not equal sex.

To my eyes, this is nothing more than an extension, the natural end-game and only possible outcome of the old tattle-tale that men have only one thing on their minds. And that one thing is sex, I have been led to believe by scores of women who seem perfectly able to read minds, as well as being perfectly unable to listen to what men have to say on the matter. There can be no other reason for a man to touch a woman than a wish for sex. This despite how or where he touches her – intent be damned, context be damned, everything be damned but the subjective feelings of the woman. It doesn’t matter much what men say in regards to men, the male brain, the male body, male sexuality or what-have-you. It matters what a woman says. Doubly so if it is a feminist woman, and quadruply so if she is a professor of gender studies, feminist basket-weaving and underwater gynocratic ballet. Because this does make perfect sense, you see, in a society in which everyone is entitled to their opinion as long as they are not male, in which case they are not allowed opinions on this, that or the other. Unless they align with feminist thought and fancy, in which case they are almost entitled to their opinion on this, that or the other. Except this thing, that topic and that other thing.

Oddly enough, I doubt the police would be willing to take me seriously if I told them that I felt violated and assaulted by this lil’ old lady touching me without my explicit consent or invitation. On two occasions! Oh, the horror, oh the humanity, and so forth and so on.

This is not to say that I think people should just ignore their own personal boundaries or the personal boundaries of other people. I believe nothing of the sort. Still, there has got to be an understanding that human beings – much like other animals – are physical beings first and foremost.

Our bodies, our stance, our unspoken language, communicate far more than our words ever will. It is easy to spot a liar based on their body-language, for example. Words can say this and they can say that and they can say the other. This does not matter if the language of your body says quite the opposite. And language – such as we have it – is a fairly new invention, all things considered. It is a great tool, to be sure and to be certain – though, admittedly, it may also be a barrier.

Is it not incredible to think that people who do not speak the same language, who do not even speak languages similar to one another may still communicate quite effectively, understand the other person and also make the other person understand them simply through hand-gestures, body-language and things of that nature? It might not make for the most intricate of discussion, but it is still enough to understand the other on small things.

I think it is absolutely incredible. Though I am going off on a bit of a tangent here.

What I am trying to get at is that I believe we have, in many ways, killed – or at the very least effectively subdued – a very normal and human form of interaction and communication through mass-hysteria – and possibly through an over-use of written communication. We replaced body-language with pictograms in the form of emoticons. Because we had to figure out some way to communicate body-language, pose and facial expressions to convey properly the tone and as such the intent of a message, of the written word.

Communication is dead. Oddly enough due to communication becoming more frequent, constant and easy. What a strange world we live in. The smaller the world gets, the more we are in touch with each other, the more we lose touch with each other. Drifting away, as it were, into self-contained bubbles of social media and other such maladies of the modern age where nothing much matters but the image we can present of ourselves – an image that is superficial… which may, at a single word, be shattered and broken like the illusion it is. For we present and reflect only the best of ourselves – or, rather, what we believe to be the best of ourselves, how we would like to be perceived rather than who we are. It is not so much deceiving other people as it is deceiving ourselves, duping ourselves into believing that who we present ourselves to be through social media is who we either are or who we really want to be. Or who we ought to be, empty virtue-signalling and hollow flashing of morals included. This can not possibly be sustainable. The best way – in my honest opinion – to get to know oneself is to seek solitude and meditation, to learn how to be alone, how to enjoy being alone. Which we seem to never be in this age of social media madness, constantly competing with our digital neighbours over petty things… my lawn is greener than yours. And my house is cleaner. And my virtue is greater. And my kids match my sofa. And I was groped twice by a stranger, whereas you were only groped once. I deserve more sympathy, more empathy and more of that sweet victim-cred. Pound me too, you malicious bastard. (Why won’t anyone pound me?)

This avoidance of physical communication is worsened quite a bit through the ridiculous weaponization of female fragility employed so effectively by the frantic forces of feminism, demanding every touch – however small and insignificant – be deemed verboten, considered a horrible affront and assault… if it is a man touching a woman. The same goes for a man merely looking at a woman in a manner she feels is improper. Cue the swooning, the sniffing salts and the whole shebang. I fail to see how this constant state of hysteria… of inner turmoil and frailty is a reflection of strength. But that will have to be as it is, I suppose. There is little personal strength in breaking down over small and insignificant things. Though, as I suspect is the case and the point, there is quite a lot of social power for women to present themselves to be weak and in need of protection. Which is where this weaponization of fragility always ends up; a call to change this and change that so women shall feel safe. With an emphasis on feel.

I am absolutely certain that women are far more touchy-feely than men in general. Where men punch each other on the shoulder in a gesture of trust and camaraderie, women hug. As an example. Not to mention that women tend to complain about men’s lack of intra-sexual intimacy… or intimacy at all… or complain if there is too much of it, for that matter.

Of course, the feminist hordes tend to explain this all away with this nonsensical screech of theirs that men have nothing to fear from women, whereas women have much to fear from men. For men are such terrible, vile and violent creatures that any touch, however slight, is an act of violence and of rape. Therefore, women may touch men and men may not touch women. Mental gymnastics to properly explain away why this call of theirs for equality is ever so lacking in equality. Odd that they fail to mention the scores of white knights that jump into battle to save m’lady from the horrible trespasses of the man, with a good ol’ fashioned arse-whooping of the beastly man the result more often than not. Oh well, never mind, no matter.

As proven, however, through the witch-hunt that is #metoo and other such trite and treacherous social movements, men have much to fear from women utilizing the government, social media and the press as their weapon of choice… in so doing, if there is no punishment by the justice system, there is sure to be social ramifications, rendering the man effectively dead and imprisoned, a social outcast from now until the end of time. It does not matter whether the courts find him innocent or not. The court of social opinion will still remember, will still pass judgement and will still punish. Add to this that the #metoo movement excluded men completely, thus creating the illusion that only women experienced things of this nature – as is, of course, most befitting of a feminist movement hell-bent on portraying men as terribly as possible and women as saintly as possible – and you’ve got yourself a decent firmament to build upon where the re-writing of the social contract is concerned, once again with women up front and centre. Women are victims, men are perpetrators. And so, women must be protected from men through implementations of laws that are anything but gender-neutral, even when feminism claims to wish for complete gender-neutrality. Interesting, is it not? Take a look at the recent alterations of the penal system in the UK, and you will see what I mean. Equality under the law has come to mean that the law favours women… by the letter of the law, not only the bias of any judge or jury in the courtroom. It is frightening. And it is spreading like a cancer.

…For that is sure-as-the-living-breath equal treatment of the sexes; one set of rules for one sex to follow, and a whole other set of rules for the other, be those rules societal or governmental, be those laws unspoken social contracts or written laws. Anything goes. And anything contrary to equal treatment of the sexes is for sure equal treatment of the sexes when seen through the frantic eggshell-frail enlightenment of the feminist hive-mind AD. the current year. Equality means whatever the hell the feminist forces of frail and fragile weaponized femininity say that it means at any given moment. And to hell with objections, logic, reason and other such trite trash from the patriarchal cis-white-heteronormative rape-brigades and their white supremacy, whether those that object be men or women, black or white. One is, after all, either a feminist or a sexist. And this is not totalitarian, nor is it tyrannical. For feminism told me so. It says so in the dictionary, remember.

You can find the definition of feminism directly underneath the word “manipulation” or the phrase “manipulation of language” in the dictionary.

I suggest a popularization of the term “Femipulation”. Because why the hell not? The feminist hive-mind gender terms for the sole purpose of insulting and belittling men and masculinity, so why should they not have a taste of their own medicine?

I am also very fond of “Ovary-acting”, “Cunt-fusing” and “Fem-steria”.

Besides; “Man-ipulation”? “Man”? As in “Men do this”? Bah, humbug – this will not stand. Men don’t femipulate. Only feminism femipulates with all the femcels they can muster.

Obviously, I jest. As much as I enjoy using such words in jest – to shine a light on the stupidity of words such as “mansplaining” and “manspreading”, I am not serious in my usage of them. Nor would I ever use them in any proper discussion or argument… should I ever poke my head out of this hermit-cave of mine to partake in a discussion, which I highly doubt… But see – see how easy it is – to feign outrage… to wilfully perceive something as something other than what it is. History, herstory, humankind, peoplekind, woman, womxn, womyn, whamyns…

We should never have graduated from being apes. We are barely domesticated primates, I think. Particularly so when watching the bars close and people file out drunkenly at night, all screeches, gibbering, roars and shit-flinging; body-language, touching, hugging, intimacy and all that jazz… which we seek to outlaw, eliminate and annihilate until we all live inside bubbles of bloated self-importance or tragic self-segregation, later to blow up from lack of oxygen or from overdosing on sniffing our own farts… until the whole thing goes down the drain in a cosmic gang-bang where only our lack of sense and empathy gets a taste of the good old fashioned willy-wetting and the humpbacked beast of a thousand backs… where mutual respect and co-operation is given a forced double penetration by the terrible beast of the apocalypse, this time wearing the wart-speckled face of political correctness and wielding the double-edged dildo; one dildo named “shame” and the other “ridicule”… And I looked… and beheld an angle…

All the while, the world grows ever more chaotic, society grows ever more confined and controlled and regulated… down to the minutest detail of our day-to-day lives being governed and censored. For the political must be personal and the personal must be political, to such an extent that people prod their noses where they have no justifiable reason to prod their noses, mingling in the affairs of other people and asking “why does she cook dinner, what do you do then?”… ignoring any and all which the man do in a relationship in order to shame him for having a partner that does anything in a relationship.

We are not on the correct path. We are breaking down. Bit by bit, we are eroding and slipping into the sea. Caught in self-aggrandizement, hollow virtue-signalling, petty squabbles and this constant state of confrontation, resentment, anger and self-importance to the point of absolute absurdity. Everything has become vague and wishy-washy, washed out with bleach until nothing means anything and anything can mean everything. Because nothing matters any more. We have had a good run of relative stability. And now it all comes crashing down. With a whimper and a shiver, not a giant explosion, not a gigantic bang.

Here ends part seven. Join me next week for more of this cruel and unusual ramble, lest I fall into the singularity and get swallowed by cocaine-covered clowns. Makes about as much sense as anything, I suppose. Honk. Honk.

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 09.11.2019

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

Howling at a Slutwalk Moon, a collection of previous blog posts:
Vol 1 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/107571074X
Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
Vol 1 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075717094
Vol 2 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075723078
Other links:
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A Good Roll, a Decent Wobble and a Lengthy Tumble

«Bareback Insomnia»

Myths and superstitious legends take their toll. We had a good run… and a greater roll… and the lengthiest tumble… past glories are duplicated in a faulty paper-copier… to come out broken, ripped and torn in a weird copycat display… a shattered mirror reflecting freedom and liberty… where freedom is drawn hastily, outlined in strange dystopian prose, painted with the ink and trembling ire of surveillance through social and governmental power… Of course you are free and have your freedom, sir and saintly madam, as long as you don’t act free and act out your freedom.

The hard and the soft power combined, standing in harms way to harm the way and shatter sheltered minds a-plenty… To then permanently save them from shattering through rules and regulations designed so that no-one of the sheltered and the sacred shall ever have to hear anything they dislike… which, according to the whim of the double-speak fairy Godmother of supreme morality, may or may not include someone merely disagreeing. It all depends on the pre-designed political correctness of stated opinion or fact or truth. It is, after all, far more important to be morally and emotionally correct than it is to be factually correct. So spake the fleeting fairy of flimsy morality and flimsier virtue. Of course you are free to speak and express yourself through freedom of speech and expression… as long as you accept all these limitations on your freedom to speak and to express yourself… as well as the governmental penalties should you transgress and act out that freedom…

Hate-speech laws ain’t nothing but a slow, dark cloud of tyranny… it is a storm beating down on us from afar… an inevitable decline into compelled speech… of forced conformity of thought and of opinion. Making it illegal to say something must simultaneously mean it is illegal to hold that opinion. If you can not speak your mind, how can you possibly have a free mind? Of course I believe in freedom of speech, but freedom of speech should not extend to ideas which I object too….

On a superficial level, we stand free as free could be… to express whatever and whichever… to walk the path less trodden by feet less swollen… complete expression of self is absolutely allowed… though you can not express disagreement with someone else’s complete expression of self, should your values in some way align with the dark side of the force… And what is Light and what is Dark is decided in the dark by drunk hens henpecking social interaction to drunk, drugged and despairing death. Should your values not align, you are free game for the feral forces of the mob and of the pack. And the government, for that maddening matter. Slow death by a thousand pecks.

Hounded, de-personed, un-personed and disappeared loudly, with horns blaring, through the frenzy of the pack; the soft power of sublime social pressure… wild hens hunting the heretic by any means necessary… threats of violence and use of violence is all part of the game; no need to argue or discuss. Attack the person, not the argument. Superficial ad hominem… Reductio Ad Hitlerium, ya dig? All who do not fall into this is fucking Nazi-scum, alt-right pack-rats, fascist collaborators extraordinaire.

After all, the person is not a person any longer. The person is an object, an enemy, a scapegoat upon whose frame all scorn and hatred and ridicule may be placed and laid to rest upon the browbeaten skeletal frame of his simian shoulders.

…Insert Sure, Jan meme, for maximum efficiency in dismissal and put-down… rid yourself of toxic fuckaroos…

External appearance is now marvellously and magically, through smoke and mirrors, through wild and lengthy yarns spun in campfire-tales told frantically by mad-eyed unblinking hens, far more important than internal whatever… content of character matters little when faced with the overwhelming argument of skin-colour, sexuality, sex and gender. Ho-ho-ho, bloody well fuck off.

If you look like this, you’ve got to think like that… it goes without saying… tribal belonging through external appearance first and foremost… a subversive, a remarkably childish superficial take-over manufactured in myriad mind-melt manipulations… to think like this, you ought to look like that. Don that uniform and wear the insignia of the tribe, burnt and branded on your buttocks by your handlers… you’ll wind up without anything resembling true within… without within, within stands without. Shattered and shamed, tattered and torn, broken between a rock and a hard place… or between a cock and a hard face… You are not allowed that hair, buddy-boy, lest you swear allegiance to this tribe… nor that colour of pants… might as well tattoo a swastika on your inner thigh, you lowly, low class something-or-other.

Superficial values is identity-politics wish-wash. It is smoked reams of light masquerading as epiphanies to break the boredom of modernity. Grand words, the grand wazoo and much ado about abso-fucking-lutely nothing…

First world problems presented as profound difficulties… whimsical realms of absolute and acute madness; inflammation of the right and the left brain hemisphere… epileptic fits of tongue-twisting tattle-tales… the new academic lingo is speaking in tongues in histrionic fits of crazy ecstasy… a religious trance to last a hundred years… or two seconds flat, replaced seconds later with some new petty grievance-fuelled annoyance, presented in the same histrionic ecstasy… All hail the high Goddess Annoying Intellectual Ramble and her clouded descent into the babbled afterlife.

Ramble on, my wayward world… there’ll be cheese when you are done. Cheese and whine for maximum madness.

At times, I think we need a good old fashioned war. At the very least, please give us a small crisis… something substantial in this dawn of the insubstantial, in this doom where anything means nothing and nothing means anything, in this age of the great gobble-de-gook, the fantastic swoon, the hallowed swan, the wondrous woo, the gargantuan woozy whimsy of wilful vanity wandering wonderingly within the borders of our manufactured frailty… our remarkable parody of reality.

All who dwell within our borders are set to collapse at a moment’s notice, mind and sanity and inner strength bastardized and sodomized in equal measure… the fall, the oh so timely fall into superficiality and moral beastiality… excuse me, moral inner-species erotica… with not a smidgeon nor a shade of shame and self-reflection to be found or to be had.

We have grown depraved and decadent, bereaved of manual labour and drowning in automation… we have nothing to seek or reach… so few hurdles to overcome that we need to manufacture them for those whom we have considered worthy of having hurdles… and we need to neglect them for those we have considered unworthy of having hurdles… You can tell who is whom by their superficial characteristics, dont’cha know

Big Brother is watching… as is Big Sister; the hard and the soft moral bludgeon… one with a monopoly on violence, the other with a monopoly on social death and shame and decay… stray but a little from the trodden path, the accepted discourse and opinion, and the forces of the weak and of the frail – as they chose to refer to themselves – will beat down on you with all the frail force that can be gathered at the tumbling Touretted tick of an NPC, render you all but dead and imprisoned within the cage of what-is-ok-to-speak-and-to-say…

The age of conformity sprung forth from the grimy loins of political correctness, where facts don’t matter and matter is insubstantial… and something that sorely needs to be said and be spoken may not be said, spoken or discussed despite the importance of the thing… for it would be politically incorrect and so deemed verboten by the frail forces that dominate the discourse… do not say that; it could potentially hurt someone’s feelings, buddy-boy. Even if your brothers are dying, do not say that. For it will hurt the feelings of the frail forces that rule with an iron glove; the soft tyranny of manufactured pettiness and frailty… the sham that is the social game and social rulebook intertwined and conspired to smack you between the eyes, and then to lay eggs within your central nervous system. Spreading, inflaming your tissue and killing you slowly.

We’ve got the hive-mind hierarchy of frailty, also known as the progressive stack… You can be attacked in any manner if you are at the bottom of the progressive stack… or was that the top? It’s all so topsy-turvy, upside down and uncomprehendingly cunt-fusing.

A for effort, fail for execution… dragged outside for a proper execution for failing to follow the flow of the fault-line of the frail and frantic few… the choir offended, my gooey goodness, how loudly they sing and shriek and whine and mutter most incoherently in the grimy greed and darkness of their silent superficiality… their vast calls for ideological superiority…

In the bubble, safe and sheltered, shameless and superficial, pointing to this and only this to state with absolute certainty that you are that and only that; a terrible straight white male – the worst of the bunch, a natural force of pure evil… Antichrist sprung from the loins of a fertile ball-blasted Basilisk Cock-goblin to wreak bloody havoc on the world and all that dwell within.

Boiled, and boiled and then reduced to the bare essentials of appearance; straight, white, male… or pale, male and stale, as the saying goes.

That is all you shall be judged upon, and to hell with anything going on within… within is out, ya know, ya see, ya dig; without is in – the hip, woke hipster squad deemed it so incredibly appropriate to appropriate stupidity in the guise of woke intellectualism, see. Now take your toxic whiteness, your toxic maleness and your toxic social construct heteronormative heterosexuality and kindly bugger off and die.

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  • Moiret Allegiere, 06.11.2019

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