Every Franchise makes itself look cute and personal by putting the word My before it. My McDonalds. My McFit. My McFish. My cable dashboard. My Apple. My peach. My ass. Makes it all sound like a little cherished treasure of mine. So let me see how this works with misogyny. It ought to work. My misogyny. Cute, like the title of a cute little girl’s diary in a TV spot. Something to smirk about.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am a full blown misogynist. Or do I just hate women? Come on, stop shaming me for it. It is not that bad. It is just a stupid emotion. No tragedy, guys. If you think of it, it is kinda cute. The little monkey boy who got rejected and fed lies all his life long and, well, is a little pissed and pouty. That is me.
Besides, the manosphere offers so little place for this beautiful transitory emotion between blue pill and red pill. So little space for that unique and beautiful Limbo of I do not give a damn about anything anymore and You can just all go fucking die.
So there I was, contemplating whether I should just go out and shoot all the stupid cunts like Elliot Rodger. But then I thought, nah. Why repeat the same kind of bullshit someone else did already. Not very original, is it? Just as cute, of course, akin to a mortal temper tantrum, but not original. So I figure I write this cute little article instead.
A recurrent theme
It is an interesting fact I am coming to learn about meditation. Stuff that you long thought solved comes bubbling back up. But as I work my way down the chakras and arrive at the root chakra – the most existential one – each time becomes only so much more intense and painful.
A year ago, I knew people were full of shit and I guess I had an idea that they were not exactly telling the truth about women. Meh. Why be so angry, right? It did not really make me feel any way. So I joined the choir and preached: Oh, fucking get over it.
And now, in the midst of my efforts to awaken that Kundalini bitch, I once more go through those memories of trying to do it all right, of heroically proving what a great man I am. And my body starts to shake. I scream, oblivious to what my neighbors may think. My head fills with the wish to murder, only this time it feels too real to not be unsettling. But how can I even murder enough people? Even if I killed anyone but me, I would not be satisfied. Existence itself shall perish to do justice to my rage.
All those fucking lies. You will find the right woman one day. Just be who you are. Be a nice man and women will love you. Please help me with my homework?
So I spend 25 years bending over backwards to mold myself into the fucking perversion women supposedly want me to be. And yet, I keep hitting the wall. You are not confident enough. Sorry, I do not want a boyfriend at this time. You are not my type.
Anybody yet invented the player’s bullshit bingo?
How women are
Ah, yes, looking forward to this one. And yeah, I guess many men went through what I am going through. And yet, most still try to be polite about this. Not me. If I am going through this stage of, I want to cherish and enjoy it like a gourmet enjoys his 1950 Va te faire foutre.
What are women? You are weak and disgusting ugly little meatbags and I only look forward to the next time I get the chance to make one of you sissies cry with some kind of insult.
You are pathetic and dependent miscreants and parasites, lying and manipulating your way through life, promising what is never given and giving advice that leads nowhere. Agreeing to dates and appointments, but not coming without an explanation.
You are small. Did I say weak? Yes. And delusional. You seriously believe you can fight men. I am not a strong man and yet when I spar with your average kind, I have to be careful not to breathe out too hard, lest you may fall over.
You are vain and proud of those silly titties you carry around and you are, of course, stupid bitches and whores. You shake your bosom to drive men crazy, but then lead them to believe they may get some of it if they help you move to your new appartment.
You have stupid lips that nature shaped to look kinda voluminous. To make them feel good around a dick and while chewing them. How … obvious. You paint them. And your nails. And your eyebrows. And you take so much care of your fucking long hair. Oh, look at cute beautiful you!
You have a horde of hungry photographers photograph you in the same stupid poses all over, displaying your idiotic emotions during that, presenting your mouths, noses, eyes, earlobes in ways that will trigger some receptors in men who will say: Wow, such a great woman!
Yeah, what would a great photograph be without some stupid naked ape to give it meaning? What would art be without vulgarity sold as grace?
And the wisest men on earth sit around a table in the pub and spout their wisdom: There is nothing quite like a beautiful young woman! and You can not live with them, you can not live without them!
You are arrogant and entitled and patronizing. Your motherly caring revulses me. Your idea of altruism is to allow men to be your slaves.
And come on, what the fuck is so special about your damn cooch? Think your ass does not stink? You carry around as many germs down there as anybody and the mere idea of touching that area with my own undisturbed biological fauna disgusts me. But I guess mother nature provided love and sexuality to make one blind to this obvious repulsive fact.
You are not only weak, you are also usually plain stupid. Try and follow what I am writing here. It is difficult, is it not? Probably hurts and all that shit. I hardly remember one interesting conversation with you fucks. You are not even worth being friends with. You are simpletons. Fuck you.
Moronic little monkeys, that is what you are. And some of those idiots out there still spend time trying to impress you and bed you and act all overwhelmed when a pretty specimen of yours passes him. Fawn. Yawn. Have seen it often. Have felt the pain of not having any of it. Now what do I feel? Nothing, that is it. Just contempt.
You latch onto people for whatever you need of them, invent lies about rape just to get your way. Nevermind men get raped, too. You latch onto strong men for fucking and onto weak men for the services they mindlessly provide you. And you do not give a damn, which kinda makes this rant a bit pointless. You do not even mean evil. You really are that worthless.
What you are becomes only so much more disappointing behind the epic fantasy image you present of yourselves: Feminine, caring, sweet, innocent, chaste, motherly, motherly-wise, mother-maria-wise, pleasing, appeasing, loving-like-a-mother, bringing-bad-men-back-to-the-right-path, supportive-of-their-men, concerned-about-their-men.
Oh yeah, that last one is good. Concerned about your men. You are not. You are concerned that your men may do something that may make you sad or lose your power and security. That is: For him to see other women or do something dangerous.
You do not give a fuck what makes your man happy.
You become teachers and pedagogues and then with that irrational confidence go about shaming little boys into being your little slaves and do everything you can to castrate them. No, little boy, how can you! And the innocently trusting boy lets you make him believe he did something wrong.
And that innocence thing, wow, that is really the biggest and most genius lie ever. I mean, the whole manosphere is chasing that sweet innocent feminine girl virgin who will marry them and … bwahaha. They watched too much Disney and I know you girls giggle at this stupidity. And those of you who do not are likely just brought up by some overbearing, prude and authoritative Christian father and too ashamed of being who you really are: Bitches.
Just useless annoying bitches. And for all their uselessness, you still are the ones testing the suitedness of your suitors with your silly and annoying shit tests. Oh, look at me, I am such an important biatch, I need to see whether you can take my bitchiness.
And one more thing: You gals are just plain horrible porn actresses. No one is buying it.
What brings the future?
So here I am, utterly convinced and almost accepting that I have not a single thing to offer to women. I mean, that is the logical conclusion. I did everything those cunts told me to do and to be. Well, at least I tried. I did not try hard enough, I think.
Yeah, first I was quite angry at you for rejecting me. But now I was brave enough to internalize the emotions and the concept. To let myself feel and understand.
And the conclusion is really simple. You do not like me. I am not confident enough, not dominant enough, not tall enough, too needy. Yeah, and – god beware – I have psychological problems. Fuck me in the ass – pun intended. I have self-worth issues. Ha. You know what, gals? Who do you think convinced me I am worth nothing to you unless I am nice nice nice?
So yeah, let this sink in a little while. Before you storm off to become a better man and leave the anger behind, realize what this all means. What it means that you feel embarassed for what you are reading here. Yeah, it indeed means that women have utterly convinced you that you are a shameful and unworthy human being for having weaknesses and problems. Yeah, that simple. They screech and scream and whine all the time but god beware you even so much at let it slip that you are not a perfect caricature of a man (trademark registered).
They are just opportunistic whores and do not give a damn about you or who you are, despite their so-called falling in love.
Ever notice that on those pictures of couples, the man usually smiles innocently and loses himself while the girl also smiles, but has this kind of awareness in her eyes that betrays a bit of contempt?
Meh, I guess I am already calming down, as I am realizing how silly it is to feel entitled to or expecting of anybody’s love. And yet, why feel ashamed of that? A man’s needs are not important, right? A man who has needs … alright, a lot of this is manosphere propaganda in itself, but it is definitely true that no girl will love your problems. Not like her own, that is.
You have issues? God beware! You are such a damn creep!
I am a creep? Oh yeah? You think you can talk down on me and call me a creep cause I have issues? You better not, girl, because I might slice you open and eat you. On the other hand, why would I eat such a pathetic weak brainless little creature like you. A swine has more class than you, as it is at least quite honest in its nature. Ah, some good pork over pussy, anytime.
What one can not have, one hates
Yeah, you got me. Here I am, saying I hate women, because I can not have them. I can only hear the choir of Stop whining and Go get improving yourself. But what the fuck for? To earn sexual approval from these worthless little cum canisters?
This self-improvement shit reaps much more benefit for them than for me. If I did not know better, I would say it is some stupid bitches behind the scenes, pulling the strings to make men bully other men into being good enough for them, to become what women want and need. Like, real men. Fuck what they want and need!
I mean, once you realize that they do not really give a damn about you as a person, how can you still live in the delusion that a relationship with them means anything other than that you have become a nice potent stud whom they like to ride?
Seriously, you want me to get going to the gym and build muscle and stretch my dick and walk straight and have a lot of money … only to be able to impress those pathetic moronic weaklings? I mean, even if that gets you some sex, that is just pathetic.
It is the little boy trying to make mommy love him all over. Which is the only woman that should actually have loved him so that he would not be dependent on it from those who are not his mother and thus indifferent to him.
I spend 25 years doing what I thought they like and then suddenly men come and tell me: Well man, you gotta try harder! Life is painful! In a way, those men willing to remodel themselves to get sex are the most pussy-whipped of all, most subversively indoctrinated with the female imperative under the guise of dominating them. Those men who feel lost unless they can get their regular fuck fix. Yeah, who exactly is the pimp in that analogy?
Fuck that shit. I am done with it. You reject me. Fine. I am not stupid enough to keep chasing the golden goose. It does not exist. I have nothing to offer you. Good. Then go fuck yourselves. Who needs you stupid little snarky whiny accusing victims of cunts? Go fuck some guys with asshole game somewhere on the plains of Whereverthefuck and think I care.
And you will read this and think oh, he has totally lost it. And you will excitedly chatter with your girlfriends about what a creep I am. 1 out of 10 will swoon.
And you know what? Who gives a damn? Seriously, look at yourself. You are just a pathetic version of a man with an axe wound between your legs. You look kinda neat and exude sex appeal and that is it. And you think you own the world because of a stinking hole or two. Oh, and maybe a hopeful and submissive little smile, oh my. Maybe we can turn that one into a cry. Suits you better, makes me feel better.
One of you meat bags feeling disgusted by me means as much as a bag of rice falling over somewhere in China. Exactly, ladies, nothing. You are sad excuses of human beings and I would say you deserve to die, but you are not even important enough for me to wish that. Who cares?
Will you write a public article about what an evil bisogynist I am? Bring it on! Shame me publicly. I will laugh in your faces, you sad fucks. I will laugh at you, because you got nothing for me anymore.
I see what you are – and unfortunately, that makes it hard for me to care. I mean, how stupid am I to invest years of hard work just to be able to catch some sexual disease from one of you whores?
And the best part is that none of you solipsistic fucktards will – for all your caring and feminine qualities – care or be able to empathize. Which kinda proves my point. I will shout this at you and you will just shut down and feel offended and cry or, if you have the luxury, simply ignore me. Go ahead. You do not deserve to die, but you deserve to cry. I mean, you love it so much, anyway. Pathetic weaklings. I know, I am repeating myself. So what? You are like automatons as well. Not a female privilege.
So, this goes to the men of the manosphere: Tell me why the fuck I should still care about these cunts? Is the pussy really worth it? Come on, who are you kidding?
Yeah, I could go to the gym and blah blah. I get it. I am not stupid.
And yet all of you fucking rule-followers and routine-students keep chasing forward without ever stopping for a second and wondering: What for?
Yes, what for? Chasing women, alright. Can be done. Hard work, but possible. But what for? None of you guys say it makes you truly happy, so what is the fucking point?
So I go out and chase tail and fuck a girl. Okay, one notch more. And then? Same thing all over again. What is the point? Where does it lead? Just to the same fucking place over and over again, maybe hoping each time that someday, it will be enough.
Improve myself? You mean to say I am not good enough? Well, fuck you. Who cares whether I am a man as girls would like me to be. Fuck them – or not. After how they treated me, they do not deserve me to be improving myself for them. How pathetic would that be? Someone treats you bad and you actually keep running after her in the hope that you may someday become good enough for her? How fucking weak!
You are selling a lie. In fact, I believe you bought into the lie that women sold us in the first place: That we are desperately dependent on them.
Well, we are not. And do you know why I am not ashamed or afraid of writing this article? Because I know that if I decide to go after women one day, I will just have developed ass-kick confidence that will make them forget about this article. They will not care. They will see the big Alpha I have become and their pussies will tell them that they ought to reconsider. Yeah, I mean, because that is who they are. And besides, they whine about their manhatred all the time.
So if no other man will have the cohones to do a little kick-ass whining, it will have to be me. Feel free to join me in the comments.
Oh and one more thing: I am not actually whining. Understand that I am not expecting women to change by writing this. No. I am not that stupid or short-sighted, but I see how your be a man and do not cry meme may not allow for that much nuance.
All I am saying is: They are pathetic weak sycophants without any sense of loyalty, so why keep chasing them? As I see it, they can be glad if any man bothers to put up with them.
Once you stop projecting your self-love and sexuality on them, you realize that all you ever wanted from your unification with them was really just to be one with yourself. It was your own greatness you saw in them. But once you stop projecting yourself onto her, there is really little left of value. Good enough for some fun, but hardly fulfilling or anything.
Of course, you can say that Carl Gustav Jung is stupid and that the projection of the Anima on girls is a great thing. Cause you enjoy those ups and downs and thrills of feeling whole and then devastated again. Well, to each his own; I am done with that shit.
So, here you go. This was: My misogyny. My cute little misogyny that may pass someday soon. Or not.
Ah, that felt good.
How about yours? Feel ashamed of whining? Come on! Bring it! I know you want to get it out of your system!
And now, if you think that I project on women how I feel myself, you are of course absolutely right. So what? Gonna shame me? Please try, I would like to see your attempt!
Now, if I were polite, I would end the article with this:
Ha ha, I’m just playing, ladies
You know I love you
– Kill You, Eminem
But I am not.