I am not writing this because I want you to hear. I am writing this
because I believe it is right. I will write the truth as I see it; not
as other people wish it to be to be seen. (Thank you John Scopes).
No man ever went to war on his own accord - he felt is was his duty.
Neville
Chamberlain said, in 1938 - "In war, whichever side may call itself the
victor, there are no winners, but all are losers". Neville proudly led
Britain into World War II and resigned in 1940 after Germany invaded
Norway.
Neville's wife, Anne, married him in 1911. He was already
a successful business man and had sincerely expected to remain a
bachelor and he often said that he never would have become Prime
Minister without her support. Her main claim to fame was that she
created a bright border of flowers to replace the drab London shrubs at
No.10, Downing Street.
Now I'm not going to go on about the
second war because that was the only thing of any significance that
happened as a result of the first war, but I wonder what mysteries lurk
beneath the motives for all the political maneuverings and human
carnage.
As I often do when I am amazed and disillusioned by the
incapacity of the human race to prove that it is not actually the
'inhuman race' in its race to prove that it is genuinely compassionate
towards its fellow members, I begin to wonder why we bother to wage war.
History
shows me that war is traditionally waged to extend or protect
geographical boundaries. Every nation has a sovereign right to safeguard
its inhabitants and allow them freedom of expression and trade. But
why? Most of the physical attributes that delineate the areas of
individual trading zones that we so often call countries, were decided
hundreds of years ago. Because the threat of military annihilation has
manipulated many small countries into subservience, they no longer have
the will to improve their situation or the leverage to manipulate a more
favourable position.
So it seems that any new wars are not
really about physical expansion but more about freedom of expression -
and to me that is exactly the situation that mirrors the "Battle of the
Sexes".
There was once a popular author who theorised that Men
were from Mars and Woman from Venus - I wish to dispute this. Women are
not from Venus, that is a myth perpetuated by the propaganda Gods of the
War Machine to placate the male model of the humanoid. No they are not
from Venus, they aren't even from this solar system. They originate from
some deep, dark distant cavern in the outskirts of the Universe called
'Manipulamano'.
Oh oh, I can feel the barbs of the femanoid
rising to their defense and I sense their anticipation of the fight and
the sweet thrill of satisfaction as they relish the agony they inflict
on the manoid as he rides into battle with his balls in his hands and
his guard down.
May God help us. He created Man in his own image
and then ripped a rib out and created Woman and what did she do? She
noticed that she had a few bumps and curves and orifices that were not
quite structured in the traditionally accepted form of the breast
thumping, ego breathing, dominating, appendage hanging, club swinging,
foul smelling, undomesticated, hairy, unkempt version of the dick
wielding, hole poking, self centered male beast.
Sometime around
about the time when she figured out that the figurative fig leaf was
scant protection against the throbbing gristle within the loin cloth it
was decreed that if HE wanted IT, he was going to have to work for it.
Hey, if you want this sweet little pussy to just roll on her back for a
tummy rub, well goddamn it boy - you're gonna' work for it - and that's
where the trouble started.
Now she wouldn't admit it and she
certainly wouldn't say it but she had suddenly become afflicted with
the malady of 'Dickus Envious' - (I'm sure Freud would be proud of me,
but I disagree with his opinion that I want to get into my mum's
knickers).
It became scathingly obvious to her that it was no
longer acceptable to be wined and dined, beaten over the head and
dragged off to a cave for a penile peccadillo. Things would have to
change damn it. She was getting pretty sick and tired of being a
collector gatherer, bending her arse over stupid little berries and
vegies and washing loinclothes in the river in the pissing rain. And
then she'd go back to the cave, hang a boiling pot of hash over a
triangle of burning sticks and prepare to bend her arse over again so
that the hairy old bastard could get his rocks off, fall into a restful
sleep and disappear the next day into the wilderness to down a few of
ales at the local Mammoth Slaying Mud Pit.
There just had to be a better way.
But
I digress. What the hell was Annie Chamberlain doing planting pretty
flowers when Neville was fighting the battle of his life to save his
country. Come to think of it, what the hell was his opponents' current
squeeze, Eva Braun, doing in the Bunker while Hitler was watching the
size of his potential kingdom shrink as quick as his penis in a
mousetrap. Or for that matter, lets go back a few centuries and observe a
few other copulating examples of penile servitude and labial
mastication. (I hope you're reading this Ms. Greer!).
What the
hell was Napoleon Bonaparte thinking when he marched a few hundred
thousand soldiers to Moscow, discovered that he probably couldn't get in
and promptly turned around and marched his troops back home again -
losing about half of them to death from the freezing cold or desertion?
You call that man a conqueror - crap! He only had one thing on his mind :
prove to that sweet little bitch, Antoinette, that his dick really
could be massaged by his hand in his breast pocket because he was
Emperor of the world! And the poor sucker died of lead poisoning - yeah
sure - died from severe penile swelling caused by too much lead in his
pencil because she wouldn't give over.
But I digress - again. The
point is (and I admit the some of the facts as they are alleged to be,
are deliberately distorted to protect the innocent), that I question
what were the lovely beaus of these manly man weapon wielders were doing
to the poor guys heads in the meantime.
It's strange that there
are no armies comprising of women. Females don't appear to be
sociologically inclined to band in groups, wield weapons and plunder,
pillage and rape just to prove how tough they are - but they'd sure as
hell be mean mother fuckers every fourth week. Many military
complexities would occur when at any one time roughly 25% of them
decided they just wanted to lie down and have a cup of tea and then at a
moments notice, want to rip your balls off!
That's part of the
beauty of the female race - they are just so unpredictable. But, beware,
they have learned to compensate by exerting their biological mood
swings in a manner that undermines the entire future of the male
species.
Men need to be aware that they are the hapless victims
of a sinister plot secretly waged by women to undermine their authority
and their usefulness. Do not be distracted by the media hype declaring
that men will soon become obsolete in their biological role as
implanting seeds for their offspring - that is a clever ploy to
encourage men to find new ways to entertain women to perpetuate the myth
that they actually care about us.
Men have become subservient to
the female aura - the mystery of the female orgasm has fostered the
desire to prove that they can satisfy the female libido.In fact my
research leads me to believe that men are inclined to believe that women
are directly controlled by their regular biological and physical
circumstances, that they are in fact slaves to their primitive genetic
urge to seek out the best mate and reproduce - and that is all there is,
everything else is an illusion.
An illusion! I hear you say - no
surely not? Come on guys get your dick out of your hands and have a
look around you. I'll summarize the schedule in point form as we follow
the growth of the female from birth to death :
All babies cry
when they are born only because they get a slap on the bum. Boys enjoy
it - like "hey cool, I passed out for a bit - let's party". Girls cry
because you disturbed their nap.
Little girls at kinder get jealous that they've got nothing to play with between their legs.
Little
older girls at primary school wear dresses because they want to be able
to show you (very quickly) that their knickers look real pretty.
Bigger
little girls at secondary school have noticed the attention men give
their mothers and mimic the preening, prancing, attention seeking habits
their aging, strung-out, sexually frustrated role models exhibit.
At
puberty, the mother lode take their innocent charges aside and relieve
the stress of discovery of regular lunar inspired bleeding for the
majority of their lives by delivering the news that they must be nice to
find a nice man to breed with and have nice kids.
(Woops - that should be enough - where do the sweet innocents go from here?)
Suddenly, those lovely legs look even better with less knickers.
The
discovery that she actually had the ability to restrict and regulate
his copulating by feigning embarrassment over such a yucky thing as
blood and such a silly thing as a headache.
The realization that
multiple orifices seem to excite the male for no apparent reason offered
a whole range of possibilities for male exhaustion and female
multiplicity that do not lead to pregnancy but actually increase their
status as playthings.
Awareness that boys like toys and seem to
have control of their lives and girls can satisfy a demand that boys are
willing to pay for.
The availability of sex toys that bypass the need for real penile penetration.
"Gee. I only have to open my legs and be able to cook a good meal and he'll do anything for me".
"Cool,
I can stay home all day, not actually having a job and he will slave at
the Mammoth Pit all day, make money, take me out, be polite just so he
can slip that silly train in my tunnel and blow off some steam"
Pregnancy
swells them to the size of a blithering, waddling, deformed, ugly,
moody, baby mammoth and they wonder if they are still desirable.
After
childbirth, the body does not quite return to its normal shape and it
is suddenly apparent that there are other female predators taking an
interest in their sperm store.
The post child female enrolls in
the "Other Mothers Gossip Club" which is actually a pseudonym for "Lets
Get Together and Share Stories of How I Fucked Over My Neanderthal
Tosser For a Fortune Club" which is really a secret club called "Time
for Another Drinkies Darling".
Lonely, sexually frustrated middle
aged female pulls out all stops to recapture her youth by spending
enough money on cosmetics, massages, joggers and lycra pants to put an
entire generation of Nigerians through Medical School.
Consumption
of alcoholic beverages increases to the point that her obstetrician
starts wearing beer glass goggles so that she feels comfortable.
Suddenly
it's no longer necessary to be a bitch because of the monthly cycle -
now it's just good enough to be a bitch because they can.
And the
most blessed thing of all - the dick wielding, chest beating behemoth
doesn't realize that after working all his life for HER, he's going to
die first, leaving her a vast fortune, house, car and retirement fund
and complete unfettered access to all his desperately horny rich
friends.
(Now that's a Wildlife Species Special I really wanna' see David Attenborough do!)
But
I digress again. Although I still find it legally fascinating that you
do more time in a personal prison for Divorce than you do in a real
prison for Murder.
Are you beginning to see where this is heading - maybe not, okay.
Just
remember one thing - there is a place in the universe that not many men
understand, it is a place were few have the courage to go and few have
had the opportunity to visit and return from unscathed. It is a place of
confusion and delusion, a realm of deceit, a scene set for a disaster, a
place where only the brave man will venture for fear of castration, and
a place in a space that is a woman's place - and she wants it all.
And
now I will take you back to the beginning.....watch the swinging watch
and listen to my commands. When you awake, everything will be better
once you listen to this:
Male and Female do no longer exhibit the
accepted anthropological traits of Hunter, Gatherer, Collector,
Nurturer (Margaret Mead - eat your heart out). We are now from here on
in, only classified in TWO categories : Trainer and Fetcher.
The
male has become a willing participant in the female training programme.
Men are being trained to obey. Women don't really know what they want -
all they know is that from the moment they are born, they don't have
something men have - a PLAYTHING. So to compensate for their ignorantly
self perceived deprivation they practice a game of manipulation and
control. Face it, every girl wants to be a boy because he can DO things
and GET things that she cannot conceive of and doesn't know how to get.
A
women will spend her life not knowing what she really wants (she's not
quite sure of her place in the world - evidenced by her obsession with
cosmetic and fashion imagery and illusion). But she will spend an
inordinate amount of time and energy searching for things that she
thinks she might want.
The 'Man Training' programme is her way of
controlling any situation to her advantage so that if, just on the
off-chance that she finally does see something that she does want, the
man who is so desperately clutching her bosom will not even question his
motives, but instantly come to attention, chase and retrieve, just like
a well trained pet.
Of course the root of the problem still
remains nevertheless. She does not know what she wants, but as long as
she has trained a man to fetch it, he will keep on fetching and
providing even though it's not really necessary. Instinctively, his dick
needs a home - and she knows it.
Now I am well aware that many
will think that this all nonsense and I have no idea what I'm talking
about. Well I am going to sum this all up with one example that I want
Men and Women to think about.
When a man goes to stand and
relieve himself in the toilet bowl, and the household members are also
female; he instinctively knows (through diligent training) that he must
lower the seat for the next delicate female derriere to comfortably
position itself thereon in such a manner so that she will not soil her
pretty little fingers by touching any part of the urinal lid or seat.
Well, f..k you princess, there's a new game in town, and you, bitch is gonna' learn it.
When
a man goes for a piss, it doesn't matter if he splashes or squats,
sprays or prays - all he's gotta' do afterwards is PUT THE SEAT DOWN AND
THEN THE LID. The point being that she is now going to lift the lid
herself - MAKE THE BITCHES WORK FOR IT. (she's going to have to DO
something for HERSELF).
Besides which, you're covered dude. You
put the lid down for hygiene purposes and you don't know who will be
there next. This is ANTI-DISCRIMINATORY. Men should no longer be treated
as lesser equals.I don't wanna put the seat down any more - "you
freakin' do it". Goddamn it - I've never seen a female put the seat UP
for me!
But, I digress again.
My point is that I need to
remind you about the War, any Wars, all Wars. I don't think that Anne
Chamberlain was really that happy with her garden out the front of No.
10 Downing Street. In fact, she probably wasn't really happy with the
wedding ring, or the car, or the school the kids went to, or the fucking
silver tea set, or her pissant (sic) husbands profession or handling of
the country. No way was she happy with anything, but she knew she could
be happier if she could get what she thought she wanted and she knew
she had just the man to do it for her.
I can almost hear Barbara
Bush whispering in hubbies ear - "I want Iraq". What the hell was Helen
of Troy thinking, or Cleopatra or Mrs. Genghis Khan or Mrs. Stalin
thinking, or Cherie Blair or Janette Howard or any of the other
thousands of females who stood silently behind their powerful partners
succinctly whispering sweet juicy promises of endless passion and
devotion in return for a seat on the observation deck on the sinking
stinking ship of greed.
Big things start off little. It doesn't
take long for a female to realise that if a man can get her a bunch of
flowers, he can get her a bunch of diamonds. If he can get her a piece
of land and build a house, he can get her a country or few and all the
chattels attached and maybe even an empire.
Female intuition is
an amazing thing but their ability to survive, thrive and dominate is a
terrifying thing - God help any man who incurs her wrath.
Posted by
Spirukas Goblinono
at
11/30/2010
