When you teach women that they are the same as men, then there are consequences. Making them into masculine not-women is just the first.
Women begin to think they should perform an ersatz masculinity. This is pronounced in corporate or military situations, where rank matters. How can a promoted woman give orders to a man? Only by performing masculinity. Then, if you fix the game so these not-women can win with less effort than men, which in most scenarios is the only way they can, it gets worse.
As a result the route to success success becomes ‘being masculine’ when it should mean ‘being a great mother’. The more masculine women are, the more success they are likely to be given, in our culture, while motherhood is decried as an impediment to their ‘careers’. (By which they mean ‘jobs.’ Equality of exploitation in wage-slavery, what a victory.)
But at the same time, masculinity repulses men and mothering qualities attract them. (see Freud.) So men begin avoiding these women as sexual partners. I mean, who the fuck would marry Cathy Newman? So career success, for women, increasingly equals ‘catastrophic personal life.’
I have said many times that ‘the Romans were right’ and so they were. Their understanding of human sexuality, which remains in place across the world but has been suppressed in the Anglosphere, is natural, intuitive and simple. It is based on a six axioms.
boys go with girls and girls go with boys;
opposites attract and likes repel each other;
sexuality and gender are two sides of the same coin;
to penetrate is to be male, to receive to be female;
a homosexual male cannot be a man;
men provide and protect, women make babies and nurture them.
Once these are understood, the whole of human sexuality — and society –resolves into focus.
Feminism is a deception perpetrated on women and society by a small group of females, in order to implement a Communist Revolution. If you don’t believe me, read Gloria Steinem: ‘the only thing Marx got wrong is that the means ARE the end’.
The sex-doll issue, which was bubbling in the news-feeds as feminists set it up for attack — until COVID-19 stole the show — is illustrative of how they use sex to exercise power over men. No women are harmed in a sexual exchange between a man and a piece of plastic, yet somehow it is still ‘demeaning to women’ for this to happen. How is that even possible? It’s a SEX TOY.
I want to see a man beaten to a bloody pulp with a high-heel shoved in his mouth, like an apple in the mouth of a pig. Andrea Dworkin
Fertile women cycle until they are around fifty years old, at which point a phenomenon called menopause occurs, when a woman ceases to produce eggs for fertilisation. Millions of ova develop within the female unborn baby, far more than the 450 or so that are ever used, so why has this cut-off point evolved?
We generally agree, as humans, that human life is sacrosanct. It is one of the greatest cultural condemnations we can deliver, that ‘human life has no value’. Yet abortion does precisely that: it places the value of human life at zero.
I spent much of my life as a classical liberal who would have agreed that, within the precinct of one’s own body, the right of self-determination is absolute. And in general, I still hold this to be true. Across a swathe of issues from transsexualism to tattooing to more extreme forms of ‘body art’, as long as it harms no other, then the individual does indeed have sovereignty over his or her own body. Yes there is a responsibility towards whatever collective that nurtured the child and made the adult, be that family, city or State; but we repay these in our love for those who raised us, in our love for those we in turn raise and, should that not be enough to persuade the most flinty-hearted, in the taxes and services we render. Within our own bodies and minds, we are sovereign.
Today is not the first time that feminism has threatened to destroy civilisation. It’s very interesting to note, if you study the mythologies of the ancient Levant on which Christianity is based, how the Goddess, symbolic of women, became identified with Satan.
The serpent and the dragon (just a bigger version) were always creatures of the Goddess. The day aspect of the Goddess in Sumerian mythology was called Inanna (later Ishtar) whose uncle, Enki, was her closest ally. Enki frequently appeared as a snake. Feminism is just the modern version of an ancient evil.
The rules of a free sex market are simple. Women want money, so they fuck. If you have money, you get to fuck them. No money, no honey. Sex is the currency with which a woman earns tangible benefit; money is the tangible benefit needed to buy sex. It’s honest.
Walking Street, the pedestrianised area of Fields Avenue, is a delight to visit. There are many like it, from the original in Pattaya, to others across the planet. These are areas where a free sex market is in place.
Women go there to have sex and make money; men go there to spend money and have sex. Some just like to watch, all of life really being a fair in places like this, and alcohol lubricates the system.
Well, not yet anyway. Only a few years ago, the MeToo movement burst onto the popular scene, threatening to complete the establishment of the gynocracy and the Helotisation of men. But MeToo didn’t quite work out as the covens of feminists, with their eye of newt and ear of bat (metaphorical, of course, what would PETA say) had hoped.
Thanks to MeToo every man in the West was soon losing sleep about all those drunken nights at Uni, worrying whether he had kissed some equally drunk girl who was well up for it anyway. Perhaps he’d let a hand slip onto her hip while dancing; enough now, to see a man crucified. Let’s be honest, there were a fair few nights I can’t even remember and I don’t think I’m alone.
Manila is huge. Apart from Manila itself, the conurbation of Metro Manila includes other cities that would themselves be enormous by any other measure: Makati, Pasig, Quezon, Cavite, and others. So transport is a major part of Manila life. But this is Asia, and unlike Europe, there is no organised public transport. There are no service buses, no trams or metro systems oganised by local government. Everything is run privately, and the sheer amount of private transport provision is staggering.
Given that I have not yet see anyone carrying a passenger on his shoulders, and horse-and-cart solutions are reserved for the tourist area of Intramuros, the old part of Manila, the most basic, though not always the cheapest, means of transport is the gloriously named ‘pedicab’. This is a bicycle with a side-car.
The main problem with this solution, leaving aside the thorny moral issue of whether it can be right for a 14-stone Scotsman and an admittedly much lighter Filipina to be push-biked around by a sweating 9-stone Pinoy, is the complete lack of suspension on these contraptions. Since the roads in Manila resemble the Somme after a barrage, this means a bone-jarring ride that risks lumbar impaction.