Saturday, 10 February 2007


You know why real men hate homosexals? Because you're not supposed to enjoy it when real men buttfuck you, faggot.

Women who do not shave their bodies are filthy, men who don't are just men. It's okay to frequent a strip club and stuff bills in a stripper's thong, and to fuck "cool" girls in the parking lot, but whoa-ho-ho, what a bunch of sluts, hey boys! Sure, they all took turns fucking the same drunk bitch in the back room, but what a drunk bitch!

You see, you can't win against men, because male dominance assures the ability to confidently change the rules at the end of the game, and any argument to be met with violence legitimised only by the fact that they're the ones whose voices are quavering least.

I particularly hate groups of men. Their stupid pack-bonding guttural chuckles. The congratulatory back-slapping at an atrocity well perpetrated. The assumption that everyone needs to be informed just how much wattage your car's sound-system is packing because it's obviously connected to your perceived virility.

And then there's the actual pride men take in their repulsiveness. Drinking until you vomit is a sign that you lack self-control and the ability to hold your liquor, not a sign that you're "extreme". Yes, yes, it's really clever of you to throw money at your internal organs until they protest. Enjoy cirrhosis.

I miss manners. I miss people holding open doors and being thanked it. I miss people dressing and maintaining themselves well because it's selfish to subject others to your slobbishness. I miss being able to sit with a group of men without having to hear the word "pussy" used as anything other than a colloquialism for a cat.

Well, I'm at least slightly gladdened by the fact that the apes in question lose their testosterone quickly enough that all their bad habits manifest in the form of a spare tyre in about 5 years after adolescence. It's rather gratifying to see how all the macho prats with whom I spent my school years now look ten years older than I do.

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