Category Archives: Female Impersonator
|You Are A Bad Date!|
Sometimes it just seems like your heart isn’t in it
Oh God, where to start? Of course my heart is not in a date if the man is not attractive. I see how BlogThings tried to assume that I was a bad girl for not being enthused about a man who undoubtedly spent far far less time on his appearance than I did.
For that matter, who walks around wondering if they are pleasing the person they are with? Women, that’s who! Look, dude, if you don’t like me, get up and leave. That’s for you to decide. If you want me to bat my eyelashes and act like I think you’re the hottest thing since the invention of the wheel, you are completely delusional. Honestly, I would be questioning someone’s motives if they were so enthused about spending time with someone they hardly know that they are constantly second-guessing if the other person is having fun.
Also, thanks for the snarky newsflash (seriously, who the hell still uses such cliches outside of satire?), but if a guy can’t have fun unless I am acting like he is some male Adonis and I am so insecure that I constantly cater his needs by wondering what I would possibly do to make him have fun, then I’m glad I’m raining on his egotistic parade.
So what did I do to BlogThings to make them assume I am such a craptastic date?
There exists a portion of academia that I continually denigrate and mock. Namely, the sociobiologist pseudo-intellectual who argues that all, or most, present gaps and differences between races, genders or religions are a product of evolution. More often than not, they are responsible for completely non-sensible conclusions, unsupported by their own research, to explain how things like the American male aversion to pink or the female dissatisfaction with casual sex are biological imperatives rather than learned social behaviors.
In case you did not already conclude this, I am very much a tabula rasa breed of philosopher. This examination of social forces has largely gone out of style. I imagine that this is because sociological fields require quite a bit more creativity and intuition than the hard sciences. While evolution is undoubtedly more rational than creationism, using it to justify every single minutia of human deviancy is intellectually dishonest. Evolutionary biologists adhere to their theories with all the fervor of religious dogma. Like evangelists, who think that all sins are forgiven, as long as one has faith, the sociobiologist justifies deviant behavior, including his own, with the claim that “we just can’t help it”.
While claims of the biological inferiority of the female sex never fail to inspire eye-rolls and immediate dismissal from my good favor, nothing quite inspires anger like the evolutionary rape apologist.
You know, I really regret not walking out of Wanted and asking for my money back. I also really regret not expressing how much I hated this movie to the male friends I saw it with.
Wanted was about as close as you can get to snuff porn without actually watching something illegal. The movie’s only redeemable quality is that the script decided to throw in some existential fate plot themes at the end, just to break up the monotony of violent garbage.
The camera angles made me nauseous. Fight scenes, which were the entirety of the movie, were shot in such a shaky manner that I felt like I had eaten twenty pounds of nachos and then rode state fair rides for three hours straight. Then they were slowed down, randomly, so that the audience could get a good look at the blood and bruises. Know what is the only thing more exciting than two hours of violence? Two hours of slow-motion violence. Oh yeah!
Not only did the movie glorify violence, the protagonist’s goal of using such violence is to “be the man”. Several times in the story, the protagonist fervently wishes for someone to utter the exact words, “you are the man!” When someone does, it is only in recognition of his violent ways and hot love interest. In case you did not catch that, violence is exciting! Killing people on command, emotionlessly, is the definition of manhood! Where’s the moral of the story? When I could find one, it was that the purpose of life is to be as much of a badass violent jerk as possible. Because that’s exciting, whereas being a normal citizen is pathetic.
So besides the glorification of violence, what else did Wanted have to offer? The million dollar question, my dear readers, is the hatred of women. Read the rest of this entry
So I open my blog reader and the Huffington Post. What do I have the pleasure to find?
Oh Christ, who’s the genius behind this?
I know this might be rocket science to liberal dudez who think things like rape are funny, but this really tasteless and poor excuse for satire is not inducing anything but my gag reflex. You know you fail at irony when your art work is indecipherable from the message of those you intend to mock. While I was sleeping, someone decided that mocking the Republicans by depicting the Obamas with racist stereotypes was effective and funny. I can imagine a bunch of balding upper-class white dudes giving each other congratulatory back slaps around some editor’s desk at The New Yorker, engaging in
mutual masturbation inflation of their over large egos as their wit goes to press.
As much as I would like to deny it, some people really do think that women aren’t human.
Consider the Humanist. He or she says that they are opposed to Feminism. They object to the "raising of one gender above another" and would rather spend time crusading for human rights. Among those that profess such lofty sentiments are MRAs, intellectuals, liberal dudez, anti-feminist women, and control-troll writers.
So how do I know that they think women aren’t human?
Simple! If they profess those who are for women’s rights are against or not for human rights, they are operating under the premise that the movement for women’s full agency is somehow in opposition or contrary to the movement for full human rights. The only way that an ideology that speaks for the female gender, or 51% of the global population, is not for human rights is if women are not human.
So next time someone tells you that they think feminism is anti-human rights, or that it is too myopic, tell them that you don’t associate with morons who think the prerequisite for humanity is a penis.
Notice that I am not just single currently, but that I am staying single. This was not a conscious decision. I did not sit down one day, feminist ideology in hand, and decide to stay single for political reasons. It just happened. I haven’t been in a relationship for two years. For a woman in her twenties, this is so odd as to be alien.
When I was in middle school, nothing could have been more important than being in or wanting to be in a relationship. Boys were just beginning to notice me, probably because I was one of the first girls to have her breasts grow beyond the mosquito bite phase. Luckily for me, I did not grow up in the Paris Hilton era. Britney Spears was still keeping most of her clothes on the late 90s when the pre-teen girl uniform of choice was polo shirts, short shorts, and high ponytails.
Regardless, my desire for a boyfriend and to look good had nothing to do with my sexual desire. Although I had curves and breasts to rival any grown woman, my sexual drive had not matured. I heard about masturbation, mostly from the eighth grade boys, but such things held no interest for me. Even the extremely progressive books on puberty that my parents bought me detailed male masturbation explicitly, although some of them spend a bit of time on female masturbation as well. Curious, I attempted this masturbation a couple of times. Nothing really much happened, presumably because my sexual drive had yet to develop (it would in high school), so I gave that up.
Why then, was the pinnacle of pre-teen social life the drive to attract boys? I obviously did not know what to do with them when I got them, and I had no sexual desire for them. I was putting on a performance, plain and simple. The dominant social message of the time, and I assume it has gotten worse lately, was that a girl should aim to look sexy and have sex, but her own enjoyment of the sexual act had nothing to do with it. This held true for my twelve year-old self: I was not attracted to boys in a sexual manner, and I had no personal desire for sex. I was simply responding to social norms. If I said a boy was cute, it was not the case that I was attracted to him. I simply recognized that he fit within the acceptable range of male appearances, and I wanted him to want me. My desires did not play into the equation at all.
One of the most valuable things I have taken away from Feminism is how to love myself and everyone, no matter what shape they are. I especially have to give a hat tip to the lovely ladies over at Shapely Prose for all of their hard work. I feel like the battle to accept myself, and others, is constantly uphill. The work of feminists and fat acceptance activists has helped me increase my self esteem and be healthier, mentally and physically.
Nevertheless, various health issues connected with food run in my family. For years, I struggled to control my intake and exercise religiously. This struggle was mostly fruitless, because I love to eat and cook. Running in place on a treadmill was nowhere near as fun as inhaling the heavenly aroma of home-made risotto as I stirred it on the stove, and then receiving glowing compliments on my culinary abilities from my family and friends.
The age-old “diet and exercise” shtick wasn’t sticking. Fat Acceptance mentality in tow, I decided to go to a friend-recommended local nutrionist for a check-up that I refused to receive from my weight-obsessed general physician.
Before she began, I set a few rules. No talk of BMI. No discussion of weight and “weight classes”. I stressed that I really did not care about what size I wore. I wanted to know if I was getting the right vitamins, if my cholesterols were in balance, and I could pass basic physical fitness tests. In short, I wanted to know everything worth knowing, and nothing that wasn’t worth knowing. If I was healthy and moderately fit, I didn’t need “weight loss tips”.
So I’m sitting on my bed, reading the news. I have this nifty tool installed in Firefox called StumbleUpon. Basically, when I click a button I am randomly referred to a web page that the tool thinks I would like, based upon my votes on other sites. I give a lot of thumbs-up to activist pages, so I was not surprised to be referred to a rights group.
What I was surprised to find, however, was that the rights group was a men’s rights group.
I was curious. What are Men’s Rights Activists? Do they champion the causes of men in Africa who can’t afford to feed their families? Do they push for a male birth control pill? Do they speak out about abusive parents?
They speak out about the “violence” that the feminist movement has done to men. They talk about the Femi-Nazism of the government that punishes men for being masculine. They rage against women who ask ex-husbands for child support and alimony.
Basically, they think that society is out to hurt men by making them act like humans.
Their basic tenement is that men should be free to act like men. By men, they mean homophobic, hyper-masculine, violent, abusive, irresponsible failures of humanity.
What do Cindy Jackson, 48, and Steve Erhardt, 23, have in common?
They’ve both spend over $100,000 USD on plastic surgery.
The images above are of human beings that do not exist in nature. What I find intrinsically wrong and disturbing is my reaction to both pictures. Cindy, my mind tells me, is a pretty woman. Don’t I wish that I will look like that when I’m almost 50? Steve, according to my inner sense of beauty, is a bizarre parody of a man. Cindy is beautiful, and Steve is abhorrent.
If my inner sense of beauty was as unwarped as I would like it to be, both pictures should disgust me. My mind should be incapable of finding completely unnatural and fake images of humanity as sexually appealing, or more so, than images of unaltered human beings.
I tested this with several of my friends. Unanimously, regardless of their gender or sexual preference, everyone I talked to found Cindy better looking than Steve. In fact, only one of my friends, a straight woman, thought that Steve wasn’t disturbing.
What does this mean?
I really tire of the abortion debate. Even so-called liberals that I have contact with through various political groups always claim to understand the motivations behind the Anti-American clusterfuck that is the conservative party and their holy quest to deprive women of fundamental freedoms.
I’m talking, specifically, about reproductive freedom.
You dudes: us women, well, we don’t rape people in the same numbers you do. We can also chalk our violence up to mental deficiencies, rather than the self-perpetuating prophecy of masculinity. If you weren’t content with the free pass the justice system has given men to rape women that I detailed exhaustively in my last post, your penis-buddies on Capitol Hill also would like us women to know that they value the “life” of a clump of cells, a fetus, or whatever you want to call it, more than freedom.