Germaine Greer is a Cunt

Steve Irwin “The Crocodile Hunter” died on Monday. It’s an incredible loss for the world and the MenAreBetterThanWomen.com card will be black in mourning this week.

The MABTW.com card will also be black in mourning for the loss of the last shred of dignity held by the feminist movement — bowel movement. We’ve all had a good laugh at women and their silly agendas, stupid, childish groups, and the milestones they’ve managed to cobble together out of the political table scrapings tossed to them by men. This time they’ve gone too far.

Now they’re going after a tragedy just to prove a point that no one cares about and no one can even figure out. I guess that’s to be expected. Tragedy is the only thing a feminist knows.

Germaine Greer is a woman, allegedly a doctor (though I could not find of what. I would guess proctology, but that usually entails extracting things from the butt, not lodging your own head firmly up it), and has been a virulent feminist most of her life. During my research I found the reason Dr. Greer originally entered the field of feminism is because her clitoris is shaped like a male penis and the trauma of being teased for it since she was sexually active at the age of 12 drove her into the insanity. Interesting to say the least.

On a completely different note, “Dr.” Greer wrote her millionth article in a row this week on the topic of “things I shouldn’t even be fucking talking about” for The Guardian. She called it, “That sort of self-delusion is what it takes to be a real Aussie larrikin”. The surprise is that it isn’t an autobiography. Nor is it a treatise on Australian women in general who are largely regarded as bitches and unimportant the world over. It’s about Steve Irwin and his untimely passing. I don’t give half a fuck what larrikin means. Self-delusion is quite enough.

The points Greer wishes to address in her article are irrelevant — just like everything women say unless it starts with a, “Do you think I should,” or a, “I’m so sorry. I fucked up and did something you said you didn’t think I should do.” And obviously proceeded by a blowjob. It’s enough simply to quote the following from “Dr.” Greer.

It’s really quite unusual for divers to be stung unless they are grappling with the animal and, knowing Steve Irwin, perhaps that may have been the case…Not much sympathy there then.

Classy.

As she is a woman, I find it humourous that “Dr.” Greer — who I would simply just refer to as The Cunt for the remainder of this article, but my man-prudence prohibits me from doing so — even relies on the word ‘sympathy’ as a part of her female feminist vocabulary. It is not. These female feminists are the same creatures who fabricate most rape allegations in the hopes of making a stab at some mythical patriarchy.

Does that sound like sympathy to you?

There’s no such thing as a patriarchy, Dr. Greer, you stupid cunt. It’s called the Real World, where seven billion strangers are picked to live in a loft and find out what happens when saber tooth tigers start taking bites out of their asses while they’re trying to sleep. It turns out in this Real World, men get to do everything. They do everything and make all the decisions. Call it whatever you want, but what it’s actually called is the truth. Men are better than women.

Here’s another gem:

The only time Irwin ever seemed less than entirely lovable to his fans (as distinct from zoologists) was when he went into the Australia Zoo crocodile enclosure with his month-old baby son in one hand and a dead chicken in the other. For a second you didn’t know which one he meant to feed to the crocodile.

First of all, that is inappropriate. Secondly, I was never confused, but then again, I’m not retarded.

When Germaine Greer dies, largely unnoticed by friends and family, and which I bet will be soon judging by the God fucking awful picture I found of the old hag on the internet — she looks like a fucking beige batting glove left in the sun with a wad of stringy doll’s hair stapled to the palm — you bet your ass I will be the first one shooting her little clitoral-penis problem out of the old Man-Mouthcannon. That’s called what goes around comes around. That was invented by men too.

Thirdly, let me say that if you have any problem whatsoever with Steve Irwin holding his infant son in his arms whilst feeding crocodiles raw chickens, you are not only wrong, but you are also not a man.

That has nothing to do with risk.

Let me give you a simple man test you can use on any anonymous parties to see if they are a man, woman or some kind of broken computing machine. Actually, strike that last one. If an unknown party gives a response that could only be arrived at through a cluster fuck of malformed logic, just assume it was a woman. Not even men could build a Touring machine that ran on crazy.

First of all, let’s say there’s something called risk. Now say that socially, we all accept a certain amount of risk and that stepping over that line incurs criticism from said society. The question then becomes, “How do we establish the risk of blank?” If you have a vagina, no matter how empowered it is, the answer is, “Well how do I feel about blank?” That is fucked and stupid. The correct and man-answer is, “Let’s ask an expert.”

I’d say someone who built a multi-billion fucking dollar business on the dealings and doings of blank would be a bonafide fucking expert. I would also say that this expert dangling his own fucking son over blanks while doing blank is a bonafide fucking testament that blank is not as risky as you think if you know what the fuck you’re blanking.

That’s just it. Women don’t ever know what they’re blanking so they have to rely on their shitty instincts at all times. That’s why feminism is backwards. It’s puts a small amount of power in the hands of people who have no fucking idea what they’re doing ever — that’s women.

After reading Germaine “Boy’s Name” Greer’s article on the untimely passing of one of the mannest man men to ever walk the Earth, I was saddened by her callous remarks in light of the family Irwin has left behind. Then it hit me: all feminists are insensitive cunts who have no family for that exact reason. They embarrass and shame their parents until they’re ostracized. They embarrass their friends until wallowing into the self-loathing circles of hags who will accompany them through menopause. They have no children because no man in his right mind would fuck a feminist and even if one was drugged into it, Jesus would step in and perform the world’s first immaculate abortion.

Feminists have no right to families. They are horrid and miserable abortions of women and they will rot in hell. Not the biblical one. I’m talking about the one women enter when they hit 35 and don’t have children.

Every creature he brandished at the camera was in distress. Every snake badgered by Irwin was at a huge disadvantage, with only a single possible reaction to its terrifying situation, which was to strike. Easy enough to avoid, if you know what’s coming. Even my cat knew that much.

A cat, huh? What a fucking surprise. Fuck feminists.

“Dr,” Greer Weighs in Heavily
A Female Eunich? What the Fuck?
A Proper Send Off. Written by a Man Instead of a Cunt.

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