Getting Inside the Head of the Head

I’m gearing up to a big post on rape. I’ve been reviewing the data from the fun little quiz that I designed recently (which is still open if you care to take a few minutes out of your day and click the button) to get some ideas about diluted feminism (larger context: The Ice Cube Effect and Feminism Dilution).

I’ll be posting soon on a few interesting things I noticed, namely the overwhelming misunderstanding of what rape is.

Today, I’m preparing for teaching, which starts up again tomorrow, and also procrastinating a bit by listening to Mancheeze’s live meet-up/broadcast on prostitution. Every time I read about or listen to stuff about male depravity – anything having to do with porn, prostitution, violence against women, etc. – I’m sent into a very important, unmaintainable, self-preserving, and ultimately stressful state. It is a state which, if maintainable, would help women quit men for good (which some of us have managed). It is a state that I can only describe as being the chilling or ice-cold, crystal-clear awareness that men absolutely hate women. There is no other way to describe a human who can take pleasure in any of those things that women only do because they are desperate or dependent. I’m not going to get into how all those things are harmful because it is a truth that has been described elsewhere in great detail, and as such, is both Feminism 101 and not debatable to me. Anyone who can’t see the harm to women in marriage, prostitution, pornography, BDSM or any of that line of male domination business is no friend to women. And I don’t get into discussions with them. Men who engage in or defend these unassailable ‘institutions’ hate women. Period.

So when I enter these intense, short-lived states of being highly aware of the male hate that absolutely surrounds and suffocates me and every other woman on the planet, sometimes I try to imagine what it would be like to be male or to live like a male. In order to do this, I try to imagine putting at the centre of my motivation and my entire existence a single body part. That single body part guides how I treat other people and how I see myself. It is hard to know whether I love that part, hate it, worship it, or have some complicated mix of all three, but what is clear is that catering to that body part requires that I do harm to at least one other person. How could narcissistic self-love not harm others? So I design my relationships to cater to that body part. My sexual interactions with others revolve solely around that body part. I design and support a world that caters to my body part to the detriment of other people who don’t have that body part. And I defend my body part and the world that caters to my body part against (perceived) attack, questioning, demands for justification and reparations for those who suffer because of them. I defend myself using violence, threats, arguments about the rights and supremacy of my body part. My body part is more important than the lives of millions. And the government, the law, the medical establishment, and every other power structure in the world agree with me.

In other words, cock is king.

In order to get inside the heads (either one) of men, one must put the supremacy of a single body part (the penis) at the centre. That is the best way I can understand how men operate. And I think that women really can’t see men for what they are – apathetic, narcissistic and sometimes sadistic destroyers with a single body part at the centre of it all directing the show/game/war – because women aren’t capable of putting a single, selfish body part at the centre of their pleasure at the expense of the rest of the world. And for that matter, women don’t really have an equivalent body part that can deal the damage that the penis does.

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Feminism, atheism and other stuff

Posted on February 28, 2016, in Feminism, Male Privilege, Separatism and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on Getting Inside the Head of the Head.

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