Feminism

I want to be a feminist, I do, but women need to get their shit together or I'm going to have to turn sexist. It's nothing genetic, it's a cultural thing. There are some physiological differences between men and women, women tend to be smaller for example and this can actually influence behavior. But the physical and hormonal differences between men and women are not nearly enough to cause the kind of dimorphism we see in our society. In this report I wrote, I speak of stereotypes, archetypes, it's important to remember this.

Feminism

Women are more behavioral, men are more conscious. I’m not being sexist, it’s our society, but of course I am speaking in broad generalizations based on stereotypes.
Women have much more pressure on them to act and look a certain way all the time and under any circumstance. So women pre-memorize all their responses based on what they’re supposed to be. They get used to this and use this strategy for everything. They just act the way a woman is supposed to. This behavior is encouraged when your girls are taught to play house and play with dolls, which furthers along this strong feminine roll. Women subjugate themselves.
Young boys on the other hand are taught to play sports and with toy swords and other physical games that promote strength, aggression, and both teamwork and independence. Boys don’t cry, boys are strong, boys are independent and must look after girls. Men focus on strategy and self sufficiency, that is, solving your own problems instead of rejecting it or turning to others for help.
From what I can tell, these are not gender or hormone related things, they are completely learned behaviors and if you told a young girl to go out and play swords with the boys instead of telling her to brush her hair one hundred times so she’ll be pretty, she might grow up to be stronger and independent too.
I’ve actually done a study on male and female behavior that goes along with this. This my theory based on typical male and female behaviors that I’ve summed up.
Women ignore rational thought. To them, logic is only used for solving problems and most of their problems have pre-memorized solutions. Everything has a certain way it “should” be for every situation, and that includes how a guy should act.
Girls memorize the components of something without understanding the whole just to get by. Logical mechanics do not exist to girls. There are no reasons, there is no guide, just be and trust your feelings. Sensuality is everything, body language, body heat, distance, tone, texture of motion… Touch is very important. How you speak is more important than what you say. It’s not how you flow, its just flow, flow flow… Girls talk with their lips, not the jaw, not the tongue, lips move. Girls expel their words. Their tone of voice rides on their emotion.
Anything that girls don’t understand instinctively is rejected. Rationality is not the basis of their thinking, logic and thinking is just for math and stuff. Some things are just the way they are and there is no reason to question it. There are no answers because there are no questions. Girls don’t need reasons.
Self is the center of attention, not the given topic or the other person. Girls are selfish, self centered and self conscious. Everything you do (including body language) or say reflects on the self. What you communicate is how people judge you. How you act is the barrier between yourself and the other person. Makeup is a mask, helps a girl feel confident. Girls are judged based on their body language which also refers to their looks. Prettiness means worth. Action is also important, rapport, who moves, for who, hesitation, never hesitate.
Because there is no logical process, girls try to do everything at once. They multitask and always have so much on their mind. They think about everything going on in their life all at once all the time. They try to stay aware of everything at the same time so they do not have any strong conscious thoughts, their consciousness is divided. Girls are very prone to stress because of this. The only way to deal with this stress is to separate yourself from the world and relax somewhere that’s like a retreat, where problems don’t matter, symbolically.
Women communicate through the barrier, only to the inner self of other women. They are very tentative so as not to hurt the feelings of the other rather than just being logical and straightforward. They play word games with hidden meanings in tones.
Men on the other hand are very straightforward and logical. All their thoughts are logical, the very concept of a non-logical thought is nonsense. They list out their problems or things to do and then do them in the best order. If one problem cannot be solved until a certain time, a guy will forget it until that time comes. Then, all the problems are either solved or being solved, giving guys a lot of spare time and a free mind. A guy lists out his problems and solves them one at a time with the whole of his mind at once, this solves them faster, usually. Men then have a lot of free time and focus more on intellectual pursuits or hobbies. When a man talks to someone, it is because they are interested in what the other person has to say, otherwise the conversation would not take place. When a man does something it is for a purpose that has a purpose, not because it’s just the way to do things. By understanding the whole of a theory or process, you don’t have to memorize every component and can solve or extrapolate these components whenever you need them, this means less memorization and therefore less work. Men think of one thing at a time and don’t have all the background static women have.
If a man is dating a woman and the woman tells them “I don’t like flowers”, she says that because she doesn’t want to seem expectant or demanding, even if she actually is. The man will remember that point and will make sure to never, ever give her flowers. For a woman to lie to man like this is something a man will take as an insult, that she would not be honest with him or to think that she could manipulate him.
What’s funny is that from a male perspective, a woman is empty headed and doesn’t actually think. But from a female perspective, a man’s head is empty and a man doesn’t actually think. In my own opinion the male way is superior because it doesn’t generate as much stress. But despite how it seems, both are equally capable of succeeding in this world at almost every task. Of course, certain tasks are better left to one way of thinking or the other, a woman is more practiced at thinking of many things at once, for example, and would have more aptitude towards such a task.
On a side note related to this, I estimated that something like twenty percent of men date and have sex with eighty percent of women. I was later told by someone who read a book and found an actual statistic that it’s more like sixteen percent of men and eighty something percent of women, a more intense combination than I had thought. This sixteen percent of men are very sexually aggressive and spend all their time trying to have sex with as many women as possible. They are rude, sexist and don’t actually care about women. But they’re loud enough to seem like the official voice for men. Most women only listen to these men and think all men are like them. This activity perpetuates a negative female stereotype in two ways. First, those sixteen percent of men think that women are naive and easily taken advantage of; they’re stupid. The rest of men see this happening, they watch as women get taken advantage of and then complain about how they can never meet a nice guy, often while complaining to a nice guy. They think all guys are sexist jerks and dream of meeting a sexist jerk and falling in love with them. Nice guys respect women too much to rudely hit on some girl they don’t even know and would usually rather be friends with a woman they actually like rather than to date her for a week and never see her again. Some nice guys do act like jerks but that’s usually because they can’t see any other method of getting a girlfriend. Ladies, if a man hits on you in a bar, don’t expect anything to come of it unless you really want to date the kind of guy who hits on random girls in bars.
So the best way for a guy to meet a nice girl is to either act like a total jerk or like a girl, you have to learn the correct body language and act it out in just such a way.
The best way for a woman to meet a nice guy is to either act like a slut or a guy. If you like a guy, say so and deal with it together, you don’t need to hesitate or beat around the bush, in fact that will only confuse him.
In our society, women, the archetypical woman, is raised by her parents like a "pretty littel doll" and then moves from father to husband still being this perfect little "thing". While we have made great strides with feminism, this cultural archetype still lives on in many women. They want to have everything given to them and expect their looks and style to provide it for them. They want to just lay on their backs and have a man just give them an orgasm. I'm sorry for the crass metaphor, but that's how they are, with everything. It's no wonder some men beat their wives.

Weird Dream

Okay, so here’s a little story that may give you some indication of what kind of person I am. I’m "unique", as you’ll be able to tell.

This morning I woke up after having an intense and interesting dream. In the dream, I was just being myself and this woman came up to me. She was fairly attractive. She had long brown, wavy hair and a lovely face. She was wearing some sort of seductive dress. She came up to me and gave me a sexy look. This woman wanted me. Without saying anything, she took my right hand and held it up to her face and put my finger in her mouth. I was totally going to get some, the thought occurred to me. But then, in my left hand, there was an ice cream sandwich. The ice cream sandwich was all melty and delicious looking. It was just starting to like ooze, almost dripping, the kind of state ice cream is in and then you’re like, “Wow, I better eat it fast.” I wanted to put it in my mouth in a hurry. But before I did, I realized that if I was eating this ice cream sandwich, I could not make out with this chick, she wouldn’t dig a guy who eats ice cream before making out, thus was the rule of the dream. Now, I’ve always had kind of an eating problem. I used to have bad eating habits, I’ve overcome them. I’ve actually lost a lot of weight, like a hundred pounds, but I’m still a little bit fat. It’s obvious that my problems with women extend from this. This was one of those dreams that sum up your life and show it to you in a way that only your subconscious can. It was one of those rare, life shattering dreams. I had a choice. I had to choose between the woman and the ice cream. It was a direct metaphor for the problems in my life. If I chose the woman, I would have to throw the ice cream away, but I would get some. If I chose the ice cream, I would have to deny the woman. It was one of those choices where there was no wrong decision; it was a matter of personal preference. By choosing, I would forever decide for myself which was my priority. Once I had chosen I could live satisfied with that choice and overcome my desires for the other. Even though there was no wrong choice, I still chose wrong. Rather than choosing this hot woman who was sucking on my finger, I did not. I did not choose the ice cream, as tasty as it looked. I did not choose neither, I did not choose both. Instead of wasting this yummy ice cream sandwich by tossing it away, instead of abandoning this attractive woman… I gave the sandwich to the woman as a gift. It was something I really cherished and I didn’t want to just waste it, I thought it would be nice. She was so surprised and confused that she stopped sucking on my finger. I think I broke my dream, not even my subconscious saw that one coming. I woke up without sandwich or woman. Curse my constructive creativity. I killed two birds with one stone. I’m normally good at interpreting dreams, but I’m stuck on this one.

Chessman

Larry Brotherton awoke surrounded by darkness. There was nothing, anywhere. What had happened? He raised a hand to his head, and suddenly his hand was there, he could see it. He could see himself. And then, he could see the black, stone floor he was standing on. Its existence spread out from his feet, onward in every direction as fast as he was able to watch it go. Any walls or ceiling remained invisible. Not far from where he stood, there was another person. This black cloaked figure stood silently for a moment and then raised an arm, revealing a skeletal hand as the cloth fell away, and pulled its hood down, showing Larry its face. The black robed, skeletal figure of death stood there. A sudden, painfully intense fear swept through Larry, almost taking him off his feet.
“Yes, Larry Brotherton. You are dead. Dead and gone, completely.” It somehow spoke, although its jaw did not move. The skeleton’s voice was very masculine and formidable. “Your fear can do you no good, now.”
“I, I’m dead?” Larry spoke back, his mind raced with possibilities. “But, I don’t remember… I was just walking home with my…”
“Your life is finished.” The black robed figure spoke once more, interrupting his scrambled sentence. “It does not matter if you believe it true or not. You are dead, and you are here.”
“Where… where is here?” Larry looked all around. There was just darkness and the black stone floor that went onwards in every direction as far as he could see.
“This place is not a place.” The figure spoke the strange phrase. “It only ‘exists’ so that you may comprehend your current state. What it truly is cannot be explained to you.”
“Are you… Death?” Larry asked.
“Indeed.” The figure nodded, finally moving again and showing that it was not dead despite its appearance. “Come, we will play the game.”
“The game?” Larry stood in place and forced his shaking hands into his jeans pockets.
“Name your skill.” Death spoke.
“My skill?”
“Yes. The traditional game is chess, but if you prefer another, it can be arranged.” Death explained ever so patiently. Larry thought for a moment. He remembered hearing something like that a long time ago, a reference of the contest of life and death being a game of chess, but wasn’t that supposed to be a metaphor or something? Larry didn’t have a ‘skill’ that he could think of. He had never really excelled in anything. In fact, he was lucky if he wasn’t the worst at anything he tried. In school, he studied hard but his marks were always poor. He had no recognizable talents, or hobbies, and the people who had an opinion of him thought he was either really dumb or weird. He was familiar with chess and had even played it a few times, but always lost badly. He realized that he remained in thought while Death stood, staring at him, waiting for his answer.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He apologized humbly . “I don’t mean to waste your time.”
“Time does not exist for me, and does not exist for you any longer, either.” Death replied.
“Oh.” Larry’s brow furrowed and he thought some more. Larry was in college now and was failing half of his classes. He tried taking a multitude of different subjects. He took a class in mechanical engineering, but had trouble with the math. He tried taking art, but had trouble with drawing and painting. He just wasn’t any good at anything and his memory was poor. He really liked quantum mechanics, but when it came to actually taking a class in physics, he couldn’t keep up with all the formulas he had to memorize. He thought he understood philosophy, but when he took the classes, it turned out he was actually very ignorant. It seemed that the only thing he could do was completely misunderstand things in ways that no one could anticipate. Everything he ever did, and everything about him, even, was just ‘wrong’. He always made the biggest, weirdest mistakes with everything. His girlfriend kind of liked him, he didn’t know why, but he wouldn’t question such a good thing.
“What sort of game is this?” Larry asked the cowled figure.
“It is a contest. A symbol of your life and death. Choose your game, or forfeit and I shall take you to the next world now.”
“Um…” Larry didn’t want to forfeit, anyway. “I guess chess is as good as anything else.” Larry shrugged. Death waved his arm and a ragged wing of black cloth flowed behind it. Where there was once empty space, a chessboard was there. The small, cardboard game-board floated at a comfortable height directly in between the two players. The white chess pieces were on Larry’s side and the black were on the side of Death. It was a game board just like Larry had played on as a kid and seen in stores. It was a cheap, regular game that a person could buy at a thrift store. You’d think “Death himself” would have a nicer set.
“Uh, may I go first?” Larry asked.
“It could not be otherwise.” Death answered him. Larry looked down at the little, plastic figures. He understood how each piece moved and the way the game was generally played. He decided that it didn’t really matter which piece he moved first. He reached for a pawn, but before his hand arrived, his intention came to life on its own and the pawn moved, sliding by its own power.
“Your first move.” Death narrated. “Your first breath of life. You enter the world unknowing and unable. Yet even as you are born into the world, death stalks you, though it cannot yet touch you.” One of the black pawns slid forward as Death spoke.
“Wait a second.” Larry spoke up. “What happens if I lose this game?”
“Then I take you to be judged.” Death spoke.
“And what does that mean? I’m I going to heaven or hell? Or is there something else entirely? Will I be reincarnated? What if I stay here instead of playing at all? This place is probably better than hell.”
“What lies beyond, I know not. I am the deliverer of souls and do not know of their final destination. To refuse to play is to forfeit the game.” Death answered each question.
“Well, what happens if I win?” Larry asked.
Death remained silent.
“Has anyone ever won?” Larry spoke again after a moment.
“Long ago there… That is neither here nor there. Now, are we playing or not?”
“Yes, we’re playing. But… this game represents my life and death, like you said, right?”
“That is correct.” Death nodded slowly, his white skull gleamed and he continued to stare at Larry without eyes.
“So, each move that I make represents some part of my life, right?”
“The game is a symbol of what you cannot otherwise understand.” Death explained. “It represents your momentary victories and defeats and the inevitable end of your life.”
“So, my losing the game is the point of my death, right?” Larry asked.
“That is correct.” Death answered. Larry took a moment to study the board, as though he was about to make another move.
“Is my losing to you inevitable?” Larry asked.
“Yes.”
“Then why are we even playing if there is no chance of me winning?”
“It is something that you cannot understand. This symbol is the closest thing to it that a mortal mind can comprehend.” Death waved a skeletal hand, indicating the board. Larry stood in thought a moment more. He placed a hand on his chin and studied the board carefully.
“The game itself is my life.” Larry spoke to himself. “My losing the game is my death. Refusing to play is death. Death is inevitable. How can I defeat someone who has bested every grandmaster to ever play the game? There must be something else to it.” Larry thought intensely for a few minutes.
“Are you forfeiting the game?” Death asked him and crossed his arms tightly.
“Uh, no.”
“Then make a move.” Death demanded.
“There, that one.” Larry pointed to another pawn and it slid forward.
“Your second move.” Death began narrating again. “You start to grow stronger and gain a better foothold in life. You can now walk, and the world become open to new possibilities. But pain awaits your mistakes.” Death wiggled a finger and one of his bishops slid out to the far edge of the board.
“The board is my life.” Larry spoke the words as though his life depended on them. He knelt down and looked across the board, seeing it like he was the king. “I am the board. No, I am the game. The game has rules, there are rules and restrictions in my life. So only certain moves are possible. The only way to win is to subvert these rules. Not to cheat, but to… outthink them.” Larry muttered to himself in thought. Death remained silent.
“Move.” Death demanded. “I will not tolerate your stupidity.”
“Um, sure.” Larry agreed. Larry moved, mostly without thinking about it. He wasn’t thinking about the strategy of winning, so much as the game itself. Death moved to match him and Larry moved again.
After Larry’s eleventh move, the story of his life had advanced almost to his present life in college. And by the look of the position of the pieces, Death was ready to take his king on the next move, regardless of what he did. There didn’t appear to be anyway out of it, no matter how Larry looked at it. He was about to lose quite badly. He had lost a good number of his pieces without taking any of Death’s. He hadn’t moved his rooks, his bishops, his king or his queen. They were all either trapped behind his pawns or in no position to help.
“Move.” Death told him after he took too long. “Or do you forfeit?”
“I don’t forfeit.” Larry answered. “How did I die?” He asked after a careful moment.
“Make your move and I will tell you.” Death seemed to be grinning despite the obvious lack of flesh.
Larry knelt down again and examined the board carefully. There was no way to protect his king, not that he could see. If only it was possible to take the enemy king first. But, there were several of Death’s pieces in the way. His queen could do it, but it would take several moves and at the piece would probably be stopped or avoided. His queen was opposite the black king, if only there was a clear, straight path. He hadn’t given up in his thoughts about the nature of the “game”. There had to be something he was missing. There must be another way of looking at it, an entire different dimension of the game that he wasn’t getting. If this was a metaphor, then everything that made up his life was visually represented as the game. Whatever he needed to win was something that was beyond his comprehension.
“Do you forfeit?” Death asked.”No.” Larry answered. “Not yet.” He sighed and leaned back in his kneeling position. He almost collapsed with hopelessness. How could he see something that was beyond what he could see? He looked back at the floating game-board which was now above his head. There was another checkerboard on the other side. This one had numbers on the squares of the board, where as the other side did not. It was a common way for the boards to come when you bought a set. An idea for a move came to his mind and it happened as he thought of it. The white queen fell backwards and slowly slid across the bottom of the board. Larry raised his head in time to see the queen rise over the other side and topple the black king to stand in its place.
Death stood there in silence. Slowly, his head leaned forward and he looked down at the board. He stood like that for a long time. A timeless time. Larry stood. Was what he did considered cheating? He couldn’t remember ever hearing a rule against it. Maybe it really was the other dimension to the game that he had been looking for. The skeletal figure in the black robes shook a little, in a way that seemed to have a violent nature. Death looked up at Larry and snarled. Larry tried to draw back in fear but Death almost instantly swiped its arm forward, around itself and the flowing, black cloth of the robes filled the air. All Larry could see was the swirling blackness, and it seemed to get more black the harder he looked. He couldn’t feel or see or hear anything.
“Larry.” A whisper came to his ear. He tried to listen, but it hurt. The pain started to get stronger. It seemed almost illusionary at first but it became very real. It grew stronger and stronger until it overwhelmed him. He felt something explode in his chest. A thunderous boom accompanied it. It came again, and then again, being more painful each time. It was his heart, he realized. It was beating. The pain of life overwhelmed his very being. He tried to scream, but when he opened his mouth, he breathed in. The deep breath hurt more than anything. The pain was so intense compared to the nothingness. He moved, and then he opened his eyes. The sharp light of the sun was there so he quickly shut them again.
“Larry? Oh my god! Larry!” His girlfriend was there. He couldn’t see her because his eyes were shut, but he recognized her voice and perfume. He felt her hair on his face. “Don’t move, okay. Someone’s already called an ambulance.” She spoke frantically and sniffed. She had been crying. Larry reached a hand up and felt the side of her face. He felt a gentle breeze blow over him and blow through her long, auburn hair as it brushed up against his arm.
“What happened?” Larry spoke. The pain still remained but he could feel better things too.
“Larry, you’ve been shot. Some guy, he just… Oh Larry…” She fell into tears. Larry opened his eyes again. There were trees nearby. He could hear the sound of traffic and the city in general. He leaned his head forward a little and looked down at his chest. There were two bullet wounds. Great bloody spots soaked his shirt. He reached down and poked one. It didn’t hurt, but the blood was real. He pulled his shirt back. There was a lot of blood, but no wound.
“No, don’t Larry.” His girlfriend tried to stop him, but then she saw it too. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t say anything. Larry sat up, pain free, turned his head towards her and smiled. He smiled with a confidence that he had never felt before.

Product Placement and Consumer Fads

There are so many ad campaigns out there trying to convince us that their products are “cool” or “hip”, they’ll say just about anything to get us to buy their stuff. And the companies that advertise compete with each other, so the ones who advertise more are more successful. They therefore race to advertise the most. We are bombarded with advertising media to the point that it just becomes a part of our very commercial culture. The companies always compete and push each other to go further and further, to become more and more compelling and convincing. The ones who are more extreme are more successful. Now “extreme” is a part of our culture, or advertisers seem to think it is. I’ve never met anyone who was “extreme” and I don’t want to.

They make a sequel to a movie if the first one made a lot of money. A movie makes a lot of money if a lot of people pay to see it. They start advertising for movies over a year before they are released in theaters. They advertise incessantly. They crap in a box and put a sticker on it that says “super great” and people line up around the block to get it. Then they make a sequel to it. The marketers think “oh, people sure like crap a lot, let’s do it again.” They follow a formula, if you look it becomes obvious. Madagascar did well (despite being poorly done), so they made “The Wild” a year later (also stupid). Or what about Meet the Fockers? It literally was Meet the Parents with a gently shuffled storyline. They follow a linear pattern, the lost luggage on the airplane, “Puff the Magic Dragon”, Owen Wilson, there’s a sport scene where someone is injured, there’s the broken toilet, and it all happens in the same order, it was so annoying that it ruined the movie for me.

It’s even worse for commercial products, cosmetics being the worst. They purposely re-shape our culture and redefine our image of what is acceptable behavior or an acceptable way to live, dress, look or eat. If you don’t use Colgate Max, you’re not every going to score. Chicks dig a guy whose man enough to use the super extreme mach 2000 inter-galactic time warping power of Gillette shaving gel. And it’s all for things you don’t need, that’s why they have to convince you that you need it, they are attempting to suspend disbelief, to confuse you, to indirectly lie to you.

Fuck authority, shop at Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart is the Robin Hood of low prices.

You don’t need those things to be happy. You don’t need to be “normal,” what good does it do you? No, stop and think. What if you stopped recognizing brand names and useless societal conventions? What if a woman, or all women stopped wearing make-up, who would actually care? Perhaps you would have to start judging those women based on their integrity rather than their looks. What if people stopped caring about how minty their breath is, or what four out of five orthepediatristologists say is the best brand of cup holder holder. We are all unique individuals and that should be the basis of our culture and society. You are a unique individual. When you conform to advertisements, when you see an ad for something and you suddenly think you like it when you didn’t before, you’re throwing away your individuality. Women wear make-up because it makes them happy, it makes them happy because they feel so worthless without it, they feel vulnerable without their mask. People say they smoke because they like it, they like it for their own reasons or “just because” and it has nothing at all to do with peer pressure or looking cool.

If anyone expects you to ever be anything other than a unique individual, they are the ones who are wrong, not you. You don’t need to conform to a commercially decided standard, in fact, doing so hurts you. You don’t need to be told what to do because what you decide to do is automatically right. You are you, so whatever you decide to do for yourself is completely self justified. You are you, not them. Don’t let yourself be tricked into following the drumbeat of another’s greed, because you’re better than that… drink Pepsi.

People who follow fads are mentally retarded and have no will of their own. Why do so many of you idiots have lip rings? People don’t do things for reasons, they do or feel things because it is inside them to do or feel. A person with sadness looks for reasons, excuses, opportunities to be sad. A person convinced that doing a certain thing is a good idea will invent reasons to justify it without ever realizing why. You, as a person, only do that which you measure as right, therefore everything you do is right, from your perspective anyway, and so anyone who disagrees with you is therefore wrong. Does this mean that you are always right? Or does it mean that you have to actually choose for yourself to be in control of your own destiny. You don’t need reasons to do something, you don’t need a reason to be yourself, and admitting that is the first step to becoming a real person… and you can only do this with the full flavour of the new black hickory smoked one-hundred-and-ten-percent all-beef bacon cheese pig from Arby’s, it’s heli-delicious.



For more on this subject, check out this blog by Brian Clevinger.