Already infamous in MRA circles for her charming tale of how she kicked some boy off his bike then kicked the shit out of him for having slapped her ass, this lame-brained twat of a woman has just put out a video specifically intended to tell us how thoroughly justified her actions were!
Not surprisingly, the thing is loaded with feminist bullshit such as claiming that the boy “violated her” by slapping her ass, something that is meant to conjure up an emotional response that rightly belongs with rape, not with a very mild sexual assault. She also claims the slap left her with “tears in her eyes,” which can be taken to mean that the little fucker has a slap like a Mike Tyson haymaker or, more likely, that he did her some very severe emotional damage, possibly even resulting in a case of PTSD which to this day causes her to have flashbacks every time she sees a tricycle!
She also keeps going on about a power imbalance, while failing to mention that the “guy” in question was 14 years old! Seems to me that, unless he was an especially large 14 year old, that power balance was very small and possibly even in her favor! That, of course, is why the dishonest little dirtbag does not mention the male’s age – she wants us to picture the average American man at around 5’10 and 190 lbs! How do I know the little hoon’s age? Because she has, in the past, admitted it. But I guess since then she has realized it was a mistake to do so…
She also spends a lot of time going on about “defending herself,” something which is clearly a misrepresentation meant to make the boy look like a would-be rapist, despite there being no indications that he was going to do anything that went past the disrespectful. As I see it, the most she could have justifiably done is knock him off the bike and tell him off, kicking him once he was down was clearly excessive by most legal standards. And let’s not forget — we don’t know that he did any of this shit! Maybe she was in a bad mood and he looked at her the wrong way! But even by her own account, he committed a mild sexual assault, she committed assault and battery, so it’s pretty obvious who the thug in this scenario is. As for comparisons to Ray Rice, she is right in that they are unwarranted — Ray Rice didn’t kick his fiancée once she was down!
Nine year old thug-in-the-making Aiden Steward has been suspended from his school by its female head after she found out the little bastard had brought a home-made pipe bomb to class and threatened to “Blow all your bitch asses sky high!” Heroically, Principal Roxanne Greer knocked the kid unconscious with her handbag and then threw herself on the bomb, hoping to absorb the imminent blast. Kids being a bit inept at bomb-making, it turns out the bomb contained no actual explosives and consisted primarily of empty juice boxes and Barbie doll heads. Nonetheless, I commend this brave woman for her heroic intentions and promise to never again call women “a bunch of whiny wankers.”
Of course, that’s not how things really went down. In another fine display of PC-fueled misandry gone apeshit, the fool running the Kermit Elementary School in Frog’s Ass, Texas, suspended the boy after he playfully told a classmate that he could make him vanish using a magic ring like the one in The Hobbit. And by “vanish” he probably meant “make invisible,” but the person in charge – almost certainly Greer, as it is, to the best of my knowledge, the principal who has the final word on these things – chose to see it instead as, wait for it, a terroristic threat! That’s right, folks, Al Qaeda is now sending kiddie terrorists into Amerikan schools armed with magic rings and copies of the Necronomicon – it’s no coincidence that the latter was written by a mad Arab, you know!
When the little boy’s dad asked the school what was going on he was told by the principal, the aforementioned pinhead Roxanne Greer, that magical threats would not be tolerated and that she would say no more because “All student stuff is confidential.” Stuff? I’m surprised she didn’t add, “Like, you know.”
This isn’t some one-off either. The kid has previously been suspended for referring to another student as “black” – this being Texas, the politically correct term is presumably “nigger” – and for, shock! horror!, bringing something called the Big Book of Knowledge to school, because the last thing you want kids in a learning environment to be exposed to is knowledge!
This is clearly a case of PC thuggery, and of a small-minded person being allowed way too much power, but it also smells of anti-male bias. Would a girl be suspended for such peccadilloes? Unlikely. Let’s face it, a girl this age could probably go around school threatening to turn people into frogs, and if anyone suggested suspending her they would have the ACLU complaining that they were oppressing Wiccans!
Once upon a time there was a man called Algernon Shufflebottom, who, to prevent unwanted humorous beats, we will henceforth refer to as Mr. S. Mr. S was a married man, and the father of three young children. “It’s a dangerous world,” Mr. S thought to himself, “So I’d better go out and buy myself a big, intimidating dog to guard the wife and kiddies when I’m not at home!”
So Mr. S went down to the animal shelter and was lucky enough to find a strong looking puppy – a male Rottweiler. As it turns out, the male puppy had been turned in along with his sister, and not wanting to separate the two creatures the soft hearted Mr. S decided to take both puppies. “I’ll train the male to be a guard dog, and the female can be a pet and playmate for the kids,” he told no one in particular.
So Mr. S took the puppies home, and named the male “Badass” and the female “Sweety Pie,” and he treated both dogs well. The only difference was that when it came to Badass, he trained him how to be a guard dog – how to growl whenever a stranger came into the yard, how to attack when commanded, how to tear off people’s arms and legs, how to use an M16, that kind of thing. Sweety Pie, being meant for the home, was trained to be gentle and kind, to help out with the children, and to stay away from things like M16s. In time, as is the wont of such things, the cute little puppies grew into big strong doggies. Late one night, a very suspect character carrying a big bag marked “Stuff what I stole” came into the yard while Mr. S was taking a wiz and the rest of the family were sound asleep. As Mr. S stood at the toilet, he looked out the window and saw Badass dash out of his kennel, sprint across the yard and launch himself against a mysterious figure. “Holy crap,” thought Mr. S, “Badass has caught a burglar!” He pulled up his tighty whities, ran outside, and just as he was calling off Badass, Sweety Pie, who was up late watching re-runs of her favorite soaps and eating cheesecake, rushed out of the house and with a loud snarl latched onto the burglar’s throat. Startled by his sibling’s unexpected actions Badass leapt back from the burglar with one of those “What the fuck!?!?!” looks on his face. For his part, Mr. S was thoroughly freaked out by Sweety Pie’s actions and told her to immediately stop mauling the hapless burglar. “Bad girl, Sweety Pie! Stop eating the man’s neck or dadda will be very angry!” But Sweety Pie would not listen and as Mr. S and Badass tried to drag her off the burglar she tore the man’s head right off, sending it flying through the air like a pretty red balloon. Then Sweety Pie calmly marched back into the house to finish watching her stories and eating her cheesecake. Mr. S and Badass stood there in the yard, bathed in moonlight and spattered in crimson and looking at one another in disbelief. After a few minutes of silence, Mr. S and Badass, not wanting to see Sweety Pie end up in the electric chair, buried the burglar and his head in the backyard, said a little prayer for the man’s soul and went back to sleep.
Moral of the story : Some dogs have to be taught to be violent, other dogs are just that way by nature.
And by “other dogs,” I mean women. Now, I realize this is a controversial claim uncommon even amongst MRAs and others rebelling against the plutocratic-feminist alliance, so I will explain further. What makes humans violent? Nature, nurture, maybe free will (if it exists). We know why men commit so much violence, and other than the fact that they are bigger and stronger than the shorties, it all comes down to nurture. From cradle to grave, from the first time mummy hands you a toy gun and says, “Here, honey, go out in the yard and pretend to kill your little mates!” to when you’re an old man sitting in a movie theater watching Harry Brown or Gran Torino, the message is clear – men are supposed to be violent, and without being so they aren’t really men at all. People being simple creatures, all that’s needed is a few years of role models of the same sex, and approval from family and peers for having an interest in violence, and the outcome is pretty much assured. This explains, if not all, then certainly the majority of male violence.
But what explains female violence? The cultural factors don’t seem to be there – how many women spent their childhoods getting toy cowboys and “Indians” to kill one another? How many spent their teens idolizing action stars? How many got the thumbs up from their mates for decking someone? Very fucking few, that’s how many. And yet female violence, in the context of a near-total lack of societal encouragement, is shockingly common. Most of the serious child abuse ( the milder forms can be explained through women’s greater access to the kiddies ) is committed by women. Around a third of Amerika’s serial killers are female. At least a quarter of one-sided domestic violence in heterosexual relationships is committed by women. And a lesbian is as likely to be abusive towards her partner as a straight man, despite not having the size and strength advantage.
Where the fuck does all this come from?!?!?! It’s obviously not nurture – for every Buffy and Xena there are a hundred Stallones, Schwarzeneggers, Bronsons, Eastwoods, Van Dammes, Lees, Lis and Lundgrens – so that leaves either nature or free will as the culprit. There seems to be no other way to explain it. Women in our society are not taught to be violent – hell, they are actually taught to be the opposite of violent ! – yet when they find themselves in a position that allows them to belt the crap out of people they can actually be worse than men. So either it is in their nature to be violent or they are making some deliberate choice to be violent. Either way, it doesn’t look too good for the gals. If the first, they are born to be bad and just can’t help it, if the second, they can help it but choose not to do so. Bonobos with good haircuts, or assholes by choice, that’s what it all comes down to. What the fuck is a Bonobo, i hear you say? It’s a sort of chimpanzee, woman’s closest animal relative, and one of the few primates amongst which most of the violence is committed by the women, er, I mean the female chimps. You want a good idea of what women would be like if society didn’t invest so much energy in the old Sugar and Spice conditioning, take a look at Bonobos. Needless to say, if we ever start raising girls the same way we do boys, there will be a huge rise in female violence. Indeed, it could be argued that that is already happening – a couple of decades ago the most common reason for women in England to be arrested was shoplifting, now it’s assault. And that’s just with a few Buffies and Xenas, imagine what would happen if the media was flooded with violent female role models! Girls Gone Wild? Girls Gone Psycho, would be more like it.
So that’s the moral of the story – male violence is mostly the doing of nurture, female violence is mostly the doing of nature. Or to put it another way, keep an eye on your bitch before she bites your balls off.
Being forever in search of something to be offended by, some Guardian writer has decided to attack the custom of actors who aren’t disabled playing characters who are disabled and has even gone so far as to compare it to wearing blackface!
In a waste of pixels called, “We wouldn’t accept actors blacking up, so why applaud ‘cripping up’? Some escaped lunatic called Frances Ryan complains that…
“While “blacking up” is rightly now greeted with outrage, “cripping up” is still greeted with awards. Is there actually much difference between the two? In both cases, actors use prosthetics or props to alter their appearance in order to look like someone from a minority group. In both cases they often manipulate their voice or body to mimic them. They take a job from an actor who genuinely has that characteristic, and, in doing so, perpetuate that group’s under-representation in the industry. They do it for the entertainment of crowds who, by and large, are part of the majority group.”
Well, yes, the two are different, though one shouldn’t expect someone who writes for the Guardian to be able to makes such razor thin distinctions. First, blacks are not handicapped, which means they are capable of getting themselves to the studio and learning their lines, which is more than can be said for the kind of character Hoffman played in Rain Man! Where the fuck are you going to find someone that mentally disabled who can learn all those lines and hit all those marks while at the same time delivering an adequate performance? How about someone who can do all of the above while being so disabled that all he can control is his left foot? Come one, Little Ms PC, find me an actor who has both cerebral palsy and the talent of Daniel Day Lewis. You can’t.( Maybe in ten or fifteen years RJ Mitte, the kid from Breaking Bad, will be that good, but that remains to be seen.) Amazingly, the writer comes close to acknowledging her argument’s flaws but somehow manages to sail away into la-la land all over again…
“The explanations for “cripping up” are obvious…On a practical level too, perhaps hiring a non-disabled actor is easier. The ability to walk allows Redmayne to portray Hawking before being diagnosed with motor neurone disease. But I can’t get away from the fact that, if these arguments were made for white actors “playing black”, our outrage would be so great that the scenes would be left on the cutting room floor.”
Not only does this show a disconnect with reality, it is also deeply racist. This is the second time she has equated blackness, which does not confer any intrinsic disadvantage, with disability, which is something that by necessity must involve intrinsic disadvantage. That’s why it’s called disability, because it makes you less able! Is the writer, on some level, saying black people are less able than whites? I suspect so – after all, if you don’t think apples and pears have certain things in common why lump them both under the category of “fruit”?
Perhaps starting to slowly realize that she’s spouting crap, the writer then moves on to more rational, albeit still flawed ground…
“After all, disabled characters create powerful images and sentiments for audiences. They can symbolise the triumph of the human spirit over so-called “adversity”. They can represent what it is to be “different” in some way, an outsider or an underdog who ultimately becomes inspirational. These are universal feelings every audience member can identify with. And there is something a little comforting in knowing, as we watch the star jump around the red carpet, that none of it – the pain or negativity we still associate with disability – was real.”
Why is “adversity” in quotation marks? Is she saying that being disabled isn’t really something that involves adversity? Same thing for “different.” What, being disabled doesn’t actually make you different? I guess the disabled just seem different because of, you know, all the differences! It’s almost as if, in some quasi-psychotic way, she is trying to deny the very existence of disability while at the same time writing about it! The one area in which she may have somehow stumbled onto a half-truth is that it is comforting to know that at the end of the day’s shoot Daniel Day Lewis was able to walk to his car and drive to his hotel room without crashing into a crowd of pedestrians! But that theory, at best, explains only partly why the non-disabled are so often cast as the disabled. I have yet to hear of someone who stopped watching Breaking Bad because the guy who played Walt’s son couldn’t leave his illness at the studio gates when he went home at night! No, to a sensible person – a category of creatures that these days seems to exclude just about everyone who writes opinion pieces for The Guardian – the truth is as plain as Lena Dunham late on a Sunday morning. Disabled people are a smallish minority, and within the subsets of disability they are a tiny, tiny minority. Take cerebral palsy. The bloody thing is so rare that only one in 500 people actually have it! In the US, on the other hand, around one in seven people are black! That is why blacking up is not acceptable, because there are a shitload of black actors out there, and with so many of them on tap the chances are good that you can find someone to do a great job without having to resort to a masquerade. With rare conditions such as cerebral palsy and Stephen Hawking’s illness (Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, which apparently afflicts only 1 in 50 thousand people) your chances of finding someone who has the requisite ability combined with the, according to this writer, requisite disability are about as good as the chances of someone at The Guardian writing something sensible!
The whole article is a joke — the half-witted caperings of an idiot looking for an excuse to be offended, a clown looking for a reason to yell “oppression!” into the echo chambers of the internet. It is the kind of thing that the right points to when they want to convince Joe Mouthbreather that the left is full of loons — it is the kind of thing we really don’t need to be associated with.
Free material for Rush Limbaugh here.
In these topsy-turvy postmodernist times, not a year goes by without its share of feminist idiocy. But it seems to this little piggy that 2014 has been an exceptionally inane one for that herd of blithering bovines currently rampaging across western society, spreading their misandristic manure everywhere they go. Here, then, is a brief and not very informative look at the feminist blunders of 2014 – the dumbasseries, the dirty, dirty lies, and the just plain insanities that the plutocracy’s lapdog crapped onto the planet over the last 12 months.
2014 was the year that Beyonce made a total ho of herself by strutting around in front of the word “feminist.” While many women do this figuratively, Ms Knowles (“Mrs. Carter,” my ass – it’s Jay Z who should have changed his name to Knowles. After all, he’s the bitch in the relationship) decided to do it literally, apparently unaware that the word is rapidly becoming about as popular as a Jewish homosexual at Mel Gibson’s Christmas party. At a time when everyone else is dumping the movement, Little Ms “I Heart Muammar” chose to align herself with it in a way that can never be erased because, thanks to the internet, an image lasts forever and can be seen by everyone. I can confidently predict that about ten years from now, as the plutocrats start jettisoning their hench wenches, Beyonce will be paying one of those web reputation companies to wipe the net clean of this shameful display…
Speaking of pics one will live to regret, this was the year in which the ever-egregious Jessica Valenti once again struck her Jesus Christ pose, this time while wearing this disgraceful bit of attire…
A few weeks later Robin Williams checked out and we can only assume that as soon as he did so Valenti was on eBay trying to buy a copious amount of his tears. As in the case of Knowles, Valenti is young enough to be around when the backlash sets in and the shit hits the fan, and as long as that photo is out there she will have nowhere to hide. But that wasn’t the only blunder by Jessie “Idiot Venus” Valenti. No, this was the year that the depraved little weasel also called for men to be paid less money simply for being men, and just a few weeks later complained of yet another, previously undiscovered, form of patriarchal oppression – namely the wrapping of presents. Yes, while men have to put up with mere inconveniences like the mortality gap and being four times more likely to end up living in a cardboard box, women are valiantly battling through much more serious problems like how to make a proper knot in that darn, slippery ribbon!
This was also the year that the once cute and likable Emma Watson timorously revealed her true colors by urging men to help her out because someone had once… er… called her “bossy.” I have never experienced the sheer and unadulterated horror of being called bossy, but I have been called just about every other expletive under the sun, yet I don’t see Emma rushing around whacking people with her handbag on my behalf. But then, I would have to be a total fool to expect something called HeForShe to be about actual equality. And speaking of bossy little bitches, how about that Facebook lunatic’s attempt to ban the word “bossy?” How did such a knobhead of a woman get to be so high up in such a big company? Pretty sure she wasn’t there from the start, so I guess she was the beneficiary of a generous amount of “positive” discrimination. Either that or she just bossed her way to the top. Either way, making a big deal out of such a little word was tantamount to holding up a sign reading, “Western women have no real problems!” For this we should probably thank Sandberg – I, for one, would be willing to chip in to send her a basket of stale muffins.
This was also a fine year for Mad Mandy Marcotte, a mentally ill louse of a woman best known for having insisted that the Duke boys (the still-living victims of Crystal Gail Mangum, not the ones from that stupid 80s show) were guilty even after it was found that the DNA was not theirs. Yes, Amanda seems to think it is possible for a man to ejaculate someone else’s semen! I guess she should have taken biology at University, but she was probably too busy thinking up fake rape scenarios. She is also the loon who last December ( and hence not strictly speaking part of 2014’s cavalcade of feminist lunacy, but I just couldn’t resist ) claimed that Frozen had some sort of misogynist message to deliver! While everyone else was seeing it as some sort of feminist fable about sisterhood, Mandy was complaining about the size of Anna’s wrists! I kid you not, according to Mandy it was all part of an insidious patriarchal plot designed to engender in girls a feeling of inferiority over having such tiny, delicate wrists! In Marcotte’s very own words, the idea is to signal to the audience that “…an inherent part of being female is to be as small and diminutive as possible…” Hell, I watched the movie after reading Marcotte The Mad’s waste of bits and I barely noticed anyone’s wrists, so I doubt that there were hordes of little girls bursting into tears at the sight of poor Anna’s woefully underdeveloped bracelet carriers! Apparently on an upward phase in her manic depressive cycle, just a couple of days later Mandy claimed that cats are widely disdained because they are seen as feminine animals and associated with single women! This theory would have held little cream even if cats were widely hated, but in my experience cats are actually quite popular. Not only do more Amerikans own cats than dogs, but cats also, as everyone except Mandy knows, rule the internet.
This year, though, Mandy seems to be back on the Lithium so only one nutty blithering made it onto my radar, namely this talking cowpat’s attack on that most evil of patriarchal institutions, the home-cooked family dinner! It turns out that such things oppress women by putting pressure on them to do a good job of cooking a chicken, something which, I am sure, is far more onerous than the pressure to not drive the school bus onto the railway tracks, or to not kill your appendectomy patients by leaving your watch and several sponges inside their abdominal cavity! Typically, Mad Mandy totally misses the irony of a feminist complaining about a “problem” which is for the most part the doing of her own kind, despite actually pointing out that the reason cooking is stressful is that women nowadays are too busy slaving for the capitalists to have enough time, and in some cases even enough money, to play June Cleaver. But wait, who was it that told – and continues to tell – women that working outside the home is so bloody wonderful? Who got them to go into the offices and factories, increasing their workload and bringing down wages and salaries, much to the plutocracy’s glee? It wasn’t exactly the patriarchy, was it? No, it was the Second Wave, and its dunderheaded descendants like Marcotte. Frankly, I suspect that the entire post was secretly paid for by MacDonald’s, and am surprised that it didn’t come with the blurb, “Brought to you by MacDonald’s, purveyors of fine, female-friendly foods.”
This was also the year in which feminism showed its increasing desperation by attacking comic book artist Milo Manara for his bootylicious portrayal of Spider-Woman…
“No way would Spider-Man ever be portrayed in such a sexualized, objectified, de-humanizing way!” tweeted thousands of distraught harpies across the interwebs, albeit without the meticulous spelling and punctuation. But as is the wont for such knuckleheads, it turned out they were wrong…
Over at Wellesley College we found out that the typical feminist is so shitscared of everything and everyone that she thinks even the statues are out to get her! Yes, folks, the female leaders of tomorrow were scared by this guy wandering around their campus…
Yep, feminists at Wellesley decided that a statue of some dorky bloke in his tighty whities posed a sexual threat and quickly set up a petition to have the thing done away with before it could rape everyone! And in case you think this was just the doing of a couple of loons, as of the writing of this piece the petition had 1,015 supporters! Could have been worse – the wankers at Wellesley could have thought the statue was the start of a zombie apocalypse and started hoarding guns, canned food and, of course, tin-foil hats.
Speaking of rape, this was also the year that feminists fucked up not only through their actions but, in this case, through their inactions. Some comedian called Amy Schumer admitted to having it off with some guy who, though apparently the initiator, was so drunk that he kept passing out while trying to go down on her and couldn’t even manage to stuff his wiener into her beaver! In other words, Amy Schumer raped the guy or at the very least she sexually assaulted him, since there seems to have been no actual penetration. Where were the shocked reactions to such an admission? Nowhere to be seen, that’s where. And it’s not as if feminists didn’t know she had made the admission, as she did it during a feminist event called the Ms. Foundation for Women’s “Gloria Awards and Gala!” Yet the silence was deafening, with one of the few exceptions being the always reliably vile Manslug. He, of course, defended Schumer’s crime. If any evidence is ever needed that feminists as a whole think a sober person having it off with someone who is falling down drunk is rape only when it’s the woman who is shit-faced, 2014 was the year they were dumb enough to give us said evidence – simply by shutting the fuck up.
At the risk of sounding like a certain cartoon reverend’s oft hysterical ( I apologize for the use of this intrinsically misogynist word, but being a male and therefore having limited language skills it was the best I could do ) wife, this next one is indeed all about the children. Who but someone with a head full of cottage cheese would have come up with the idea of getting a bunch of cute little kiddies to dress up as princesses and then spout all sorts of vile verbiage?!?! And that’s just the so-called facts cited, don’t even get me started on the profanities! It’s fucking atrocious, is what it is, and not only dishonest but also the most irritating thing since that old woman who couldn’t find the beef! And probably some sort of obscure sort of child abuse as well – like naming your kid “Apple” or “North” – and it sure as hell didn’t go down well outside the echo chambers of feminism.
Late entrants into this cavalcade of mooncalves and dunderpates were the hordes of screaming nutters warning us of the horrors of “manspreading.” “What, in hell’s name, is ‘manspreading!?!?!’” I hear you say. Well, apparently it is the latest evidence of man’s inhumanity to woman, or as I like to call it, the latest bit of evidence that western women truly have no real problems. Manspreading is that thing men do when sitting down in order to not crush their nuts between their thighs. Yes, boys, you are now a misogynist asshole if you don’t keep your legs closed tight as a prissy school marm’s while riding on public transport! Women who think their shopping bag deserves an unpaid seat all its own are, not surprisingly, pretty much ignored.
And speaking of late entries, let’s not forget the famous “catcalling” video in which we found out that a moderately attractive, somewhat Hispanic looking woman spending ten hours walking through some of NY’s lower class colored neighborhoods will have to endure approximately two minutes of vile males saying horrid things like “Have a good day,” and “God Bless you.” This is what feminists see as harassment ( remember the days when you had to do it more than once for it to be harassment? So do I, but I guess we are both showing our Neolithic origins) and the sane people see as, at best, a bunch of friendly helloes, and, at worst, a bunch of very mild passes at a woman who looks like she’s one of the gang ( lots of overlap between blacks and Hispanics in NY neighborhoods apparently). And sure, she should have punched the guy who kept walking right beside her in the plexus, but he was the exception, so they had to throw in all the harmless guys – one genuine creeper during a ten hour walk is just not enough to get anyone pissed off, except maybe the people at Rolling Stone.
Which brings us to this year’s most egregious displays of feminist foolishness, displays dominated, unsurprisingly, by every feminist’s favorite past-time – rape. First there was Rotherham, as hideous a case of gang rape as I have ever heard about, but apparently of little to no interest to the lunatics who run Jezebel and its ilk. If anyone has yet to notice that political correctness and middle class interests are at the core of modern feminism, they need their noses rubbed in the steaming pile of turds that is the Rotherham case. Apparently dozens, possibly even hundreds, of rape victims do not matter, not when the victims are just little skanks from the lower classes and the perpetrators are Muslims of an especially brownish hue. Yes, folks, gang rape is a big problem – but only when the victim is well off and/or the perpetrators are evil white males.
Or better yet, when the victim is high up enough on the social ladder to be going to University and the alleged gang rapists are a bunch of rich white guys, for 2014 was also the year of the great Rolling Stone meltdown, without a doubt the biggest feminist fuck up of the year. Why RS is doing stories on anything more important than Taylor Swift’s latest musical swipe at her ex-boyfriend is anyone’s guess, but if they must insist on delving into important matters they could at least try to do the job properly. Instead, some half baked Lois Lane wannabe went off half cocked and did a story that vilified dozens (hundreds, if you count chapters other than UVA’s and their former members) of males yet did nothing to seek out the actual truth. This little turd of a woman, Sabrina Rubin Erdely…
…went in search of a juicy, frat-vilifying rape story for RS, and this led her to another little turd called Jackie Coakley…
Not a bad looking girl, Jackie. I’d fuck her, but only in front of a camera and several witnesses because, you know…
So, the second turd tells the first turd that she had been pack raped at some frat at the University of Virginia, then asked that the so-called journalist not get the frat’s side of the story. And sure enough, Erdely responded with, “Sure, what could possibly go wrong?” The answer to that question turned out to be “just about everything,” as Jackie Coakley’s web of lies got torn to shreds by not only the frat but also by her own friends. Turns out that the man accused of orchestrating the rape, a dude with the unlikely handle of Haven Monahan (which, I believe, is actually the name of that girl Miley Cyrus used to play on TV) doesn’t actually exist. The guy in the photo Jackie had passed off as “Haven” does exist but did not attend that particular university and was apparently far away when the so-called rape happened. Whoops, after even the most cursory of enquiries things are starting to go belly up. Then it also turned out that the frat was not having a pledge drive at that time of the year, and that they did not hold any social event that weekend, and that none of their members or pledges were lifeguards. Oh, yes, there’s also the fact that Jackie changed her claim from being orally raped by five guys to being vaginally raped by seven. Or was it the other way ‘round? See, now everyone’s confused! Also there was all the blood she had all over her from being raped on top of broken glass, blood that none of the friends she called right after the whatever-it-was happened ever noticed. Oh, and speaking of the friends she called after the thing that probably didn’t happen happened? Turns out one of them was a male for which young Jackie had a thang. An unrequited thang, as it turns out – perhaps the guy could smell the crazy in her pheromones. And “Haven”? Why, he was someone who had a requited thing for Jackie and who made sure the uninterested male friend knew about it! Yes, folks, this was the year that the idiots at Rolling Stone dragged us all into a really bad sitcom plot! This entire debacle leaves us with two undeniable conclusions. The first is that some people will believe anything as long as it’s coming from the mouth of a woman, especially if it’s about rape, and the second is that men are well and truly second class citizens in the United States. Had Jackie Coakley fabricated a story about a sorority that had as one of its initiation rituals the committing of, say, the far less serious crime of having it off with a thirteen year old boy, there is no fucking way that Rolling Stone would agree to not get the sorority’s side of the story! I mean, you can’t just go around vilifying women without any proof, and even when you do have proof everyone would prefer that you shut up any way.
Yes, 2014 was without a doubt the Year of the Feminist Pinhead, and the whole thing leaves me wishing that rancid pieces of dirt like Valenti would stir some arsenic into their mug of male tears and die a slow and agonizing death. Okay, maybe that’s a little extreme – how about if they use just enough arsenic to make themselves really, really sick?