Fighting the Good Fight

I recently had the misfortune of speaking with a highly ranking NOW member. At least that’s what she said. She couldn’t, however, explain to me exactly how one could rank highly in an organization like NOW. It’s like being a captain of the Swedish Submarine Brigade or the CEO of Armpit Fart Noises Inc. Seriously, what the fuck?

I raised several valid points about women being catastrophes and hazards to have in any level of government or under employ in any position where showcasing their sexuality was not the main job skill. I’m not talking about just prostitutes either. There are plenty of jobs where women exploit their sexuality: sales ladies, bar ladies, school teachers.

Why the fuck else would so many women teach? Because it’s easy?

Needless to say, I got the brush off. After all my salient and well put together points, I was called a derelict of this and that generation — the Stepford card was played, and I was summarily brushed aside.

Women can’t fight for causes for shit.

Men are natural born diplomats and politicians. We’re leaders and figureheads. It doesn’t matter what the cause is, if you put a man in charge of it, it’ll win. And ten years later everyone will look back and say, “Jesus, I can’t believe we ever thought any other way.” If a woman’s in charge of it, ten years later everyone will be saying, “Shit. We might have fucked that up.”

Does the name Susan B. Anthony ring a bell?

Women are natural born poor customer service reps. Now what happens when you put a shitty customer service rep in charge of a movement? Fuck, put them in charge of gathering lunch for the office, you get the same thing either way. A series of shrill regurgitations and an ethos of martyrdom. You end up with feminism.

When you’re an alleged highly ranking member of any organization, you can’t just brush off any Tom, Dick, or Harry with a flip of the wrist and a party talking point. That’s bad business.

To their credit, however, there has been one and only one woman in the history of the whole fucking world who knew how to fight a cause for shit: Joan of Arc. Here’s a little bit of food for thought, men. Make that a juicy rib eye for thought with a side of twice baked potato and sour cream and a mug of beef stew. It’s in a mug so you don’t have to use a bunch of silly effeminate silverware to enjoy the soup.

Joan of Arc had Syphilis.

Saying Joan of Arc is a hero is like saying someone who’s been drinking Jagermeister for three hours is strong because he put his head through the windshield of a Peugot. He’s not strong. That’s just what people who have been drinking Jagermeister for three hours do — crazy things. Cousin Larry who won the eating contest while he was stoned out of his mind? He wasn’t hungry, he was high!

I think I’ve made my point. A woman’s brain works better while it’s being consumed by an STD.

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