Bitchfest...

Originally published Nov 27 2011

There comes a point where you must speak the thoughts you deny any major access to the majority of your time, the ones you sequester and silence to the demand that if you can't say something nice say nothing at all. But... if those thoughts are not given a voice the result is they actually become more powerful, submerging to form alliances between themselves, alliances of malice powerful enough to do major damage.  Fair warning, what follows are some of the things where my feelings get hurt on a regular basis, the elements of my heartbreaks, my despairs.  These are the things you probably don't want to know about, about me, about a great many like me.  But they deserve a voice, because they are not without justification from certain perspectives.  Read on if you wish, but only if you're willing to expose yourself to the other side of the argument, those things that believe me are waiting for the final insult that will ignite them into action.

First on my list is the new category of crime, the so-called "hate crime."  If a gay gets himself killed his murder is now a thing of more import than if someone decides to kill me.  How does being gay make his life more valuable than mine?  How does his sterility render his life more worthy of societies protection?  Just how in the fuck is this supposed to work?  Congratulations, hetero world.  You just got demoted to second class status.  The law says so.

If you are a hetero man?  Congratulations, you just dropped another notch to third class status, at least according to the feminists of the world.  According to them you are a mindless animal, a brute born condemned by gender into a life of animal violence, your behavior preprogrammed by hormones beyond your limited mental faculties' ability to comprehend much less control.  After all, there are only two kinds of people in the world, and you are the wrong kind, you're male: heartless and cruel, callous and uncaring, not a sensitive or sympathetic bone in your body, you'd rather put cyanide on your cereal than feel any positive emotion, any touch of compassion or empathy or understanding.  You're a man, and men are evil.  Don't believe me?  Just ask them. 

Oh, and if you're a man who went to work to feed a family?  Take a bow my man, you're the lowest class of all.  You chose to labor your life away doing what needs done to keep things working.  You don't exist, don't you know that?  You're not the cause of anything. All those hours of sweat, all the hours of dedication to your craft?  Meaningless. You didn't provide the running water and the roads, you had nothing to do with climate controlled homes or the electricity that powers them.  The electronics and the antibiotics, the food and the fuel that farmed it? Catch a clue, all of those things are naturally occurring, didn't you know that?  You wasted your life, it's your own fault after all.  You could have chosen to become a perverted intellectual and wield the magic of circular opinion regurgitated that makes the crude migrate to the surface already distilled into gasoline and plastic bottles for the reverse osmosis water running in every river.  It's all magic after all, you never worked any magic, your life was just the sacrifice to appease the gods of technology. 

And you know bro, it's a good thing we're no class nobodies, our lives ignorable and expendable, because without us the gods might become angry and go back to demanding virgins to feed the volcano, and given the current shortage of virgins, hell, given the shortage of anything resembling wholesome innocence of any sort that would be a real problem.  Only the perversions matter, didn't you know that?  The queers and the kinks, the deformed and the defective, they're what make the world turn, not us.  Love your woman, love your children, labor your life through to provide for them?  Nah, all that means is we're too stupid to be of any consequence.  According to them we should be grateful the gods will still accept us for sacrifices. 

Yea, I know.  Kind of hard to believe.  But if you'd been where I was tonight it would be a lot easier.  If you'd sat like I did and listened to a group of flaming faggots and femi-nazi libber lesbians bashing men in general and their fathers in particular you'd understand why sometimes I really, really have to work to remind myself they're still the minority, that it's still worth the effort to keep them alive as a side effect of maintaining life for the wholesome. 

But every time I have to remind myself of that I have to wonder if sooner or later it might not be worthwhile anymore, I have to ask myself at what point might it be time to give them what they want, give them the whole fucking world to do with as they see fit.  Of course, I want to be totally fair to them, I want to give them the world just the way we got it.  So every time I have to remind myself their contempt really shouldn't matter all that much I spend down my anger refining my plans for how to reverse every single thing we men have done, how to make sure when they take over not one goddamn thing we gave them that they take for granted is still working.  Don't think there would be enough time to put the iron back in the rocks where we found it, but hey.  We can spot them that much.  After all, they'll only have one generation to work with before old age stamps humanities' passport "extinct."