In a fine example of what really lurks at the heart of modern feminism, some psycho burger flipper called Victoria J. Duran has been caught on video going totally psycho at the sight of some young men protesting against abortion. While the whole abortion thing is complicated, I have already made my views known and am not about to go into it now.
What matters is that these kids weren’t doing anything objectionable, yet this massive 250lb piece of turd decides that she’s going to get all agro at them. What kind of dirtbag does that? Look at the photo, she’s not only twice as heavy as the kid, she’s also taller! How scuzzy a person do you have to be to get verbally abusive and physically intimidating towards someone so much smaller than yourself? But this is no surprise. This is how most feminists would behave if they had size on their side, and let’s face it, were it not for the law and the witnesses she would probably have beaten the crap out of those kids. Of course, if one of the pro-lifers had been her size or bigger she would probably have pissed herself and then waddled back to Burger King as fast as her slime trail would allow her.
If the sexes were reversed in this disgraceful situation, if a 250 pound man had verbally abused and menaced a bunch of pro-choice women half his size, the feminists would all be calling for the man to be jailed, yet I have yet to see feminists call for Victoria J. Duran to be locked up, or even mention her for that matter. Just more evidence that this nutjob isn’t the only one of her ilk who thinks menacing people half your size is okay as long as you do it for the sisterhood. And there’s no doubt she’s a feminist, as opposed to some other type of abortion supporter, as she spews all the usual bullshit we have come to expect from her sort…
“You’re just a white fucking privileged, racist fucking male, who doesn’t stand for women’s rights,” the raging moron screams at one point.
She then proceeds to use the Gillardian definition of misogyny and to point out that males have no right to talk about abortion and such…
“You’re just a bunch of misogynistic motherfuckers…no uterus, you have no right to talk about it…understand me motherfucker?”
Bigoted and anti-male, as well as verbally, psychologically, and physically abusive – poster girl for modern feminism right there, folks.
According to county records easily found online, Victoria J. Duran has been charged with assault and criminal damage but, being a woman, is unlikely to get into any real legal trouble over this. As I see it, the best bet in terms of making this woman regret her actions would be to cause Burger King a huge amount of bad PR and force them to fire her. Oh, look, here’s a contact form!
Video here. It’s at The Blaze, so I suggest you cover your nose when going in.
And she’s no great beauty either, despite what Hollywood’s PR machine and millions of myopic fanboys may say — weird is the word, folks, not gorgeous. But back to the lukewarm puddle of porridge sloshing around inside her head. Seems some French guy has written a novel about the adventures (mild ones from the look of it) of a Scarlett Johansson impersonator and so the squirrel-brained actress has sued him for making “defamatory claims about her private life.” In other words, for making her look bad by portraying the character as having affairs that Johansson herself never had! Amazingly, or perhaps not so amazingly given the kind of dolt that so often ends up on the bench, the French judge was stupid enough to agree with her so he awarded her 4500 Euros to compensate for the fact that a character with the same name did some things she didn’t. In a further act of idiocy the Gallic Geek In The Wig also decided that the novel hadn’t “fraudulently exploited her name, her image and her celebrity” in order to make money! To a sensible person that’s something that it clearly does do, but not to the judge, who like Freaky-Faced Girl no doubt has problems trying to figure out what to do with a light switch.
As for Little Ms Spaced Out, it’s a good thing the poor girl wasn’t named Jane Smith – can you imagine the chaos and confusion that would cause in the life of such a perpetually bewildered creature? She reads in the newspaper that a Jane Smith has been flattened by a truck, freaks out and runs down the street screaming “Oh, my god, I’m dead! I’m dead!” No, honey, you’re not – but your brain certainly is.
Another fine Hollywood intellect on display here.
For those who don’t know, Bradley was a very well-regarded fantasy and sci-fi writer who is best known for re-writing Arthurian tales from a feminist perspective – which is to say that she was a renowned bullshit artist. For example, she re-wrote the villainess Morgan le Fay as a well-intentioned woman fighting to save a Celtic matriarchy ( no such thing ever existed ) from the evil hordes of patriarchal Christianity. Yes, she did the “Maleficent” thing before Disney did.
Recently Bradley’s daughter , Moira Greyland, a professional harpist and singer, has come forward claiming that mommy dearest sexually abused her from the age of 3 till she was about 12. In an email to some writer I’ve never heard of Greyland states…
“The first time she molested me, I was three. The last time, I was twelve, and able to walk away. I put Walter (Bradley’s husband, himself a pedophile) in jail for molesting one boy. I had tried to intervene when I was 13 by telling Mother and Lisa, and they just moved him into his own apartment. I had been living partially on couches since I was ten years old because of the out of control drugs, orgies, and constant flow of people in and out of our family ‘home.’ None of this should be news. Walter was a serial rapist with many, many, many victims (I named 22 to the cops) but Marion was far, far worse. She was cruel and violent, as well as completely out of her mind sexually. I am not her only victim, nor were her only victims girls.”
Greyland also claims in some poems that Bradley beat her senseless, tried to drown her in the bath, and stoned a cat to death!
One must always be wary of mere accusations, no matter how heartfelt they seem to be, but in this case the evidence supporting Greyland’s claims is very strong. The first thing that rings alarm bells is that Bradley was knowingly married to a man, Walter H. Breen, who had, by the time they married, already been convicted of child sexual abuse. And there’s no way this guy could be seen as a pedo who made one mistake then got his urges under control and tried to live a normal life. This guy was a NAMBLA member who habitually defended pederasty as being perfectly okay, he even wrote an entire book on it called “Greek Love!” And Bradley knew about all this and defended his behavior!
What kind of woman marries such a man? The kind of woman who thinks there’s nothing wrong with child molestation, obviously. Seriously, ask the women you know if they would get hitched to such a creature and they’ll probably tell you to fuck off. On her choice of husband alone Bradley is rather suspect, then there’s the fact that she herself had been involved with the lesbian group Daughters of Bilitis when she was younger. Being gay or bi doesn’t support the idea that she was a pedophile, but it does provide evidence of sexual interest in females and it is a female who is making the accusations. All this, combined with her daughter’s testimony, adds up to, if not a certainty, then a probability that Marion Zimmer Bradley was indeed a pedophile. So, having established that Greyland is probably telling the truth, why does this matter to anyone other than Bradley’s victims? It matters because it’s a high profile example of female evil at a time in Western history when such things are swept under the rug in order to shore up the rapidly deteriorating myth of female superiority. The more Marion Zimmer Bradleys the world is made aware of, the less inclined people will be to treat women better than they treat men. It matters also in that such stories help to keep children safe by warning those around them to keep an eye out for suspicious behavior even when such behavior is being carried out by women.
This whole thing makes me wonder how common this kind of sexually abusive behavior is amongst feminist women. Could that be why there is so little feminist objection to the Vagina Monologues section entitled “The Little Coochie Snorcher That Could”? You know, the one in which the rape of a 13 year old girl by a 24 year old woman is depicted as “a good rape?” Could it be that feminists have something personal to gain from the portrayal of the sexual abuse of girls by women as a positive thing? Would we even bother asking that question if these were men who supported the depiction of the rape of a 13 year old girl by a man as a “good rape?” We wouldn’t, and there you have your answer. Don’t be surprised if similar claims are made by those close to them once Eve Ensler and her cronies have kicked the bucket.
And let me quickly address the question of whether or not the greatness or popularity of an artist’s works can excuse bad personal behavior. There are several answers to this…
“Sure – if your bad behavior is not bathing for weeks on end or picking your nose and then wiping it on someone else’s tie.”
“Maybe – if your bad behavior adds up to punching a few people in the nose or having their car towed to the wreckers without their permission.”
“No – if your bad behavior is killing, raping, torturing or permanently maiming any person, be they child or adult.”
And that last one is what is pertinent in this case. I don’t give a fuck if you are a great, such as Polanski, a supposed great, such as Bradley, or a hack, like Mark Wahlberg, if you cause someone serious, permanent damage in anything other than defense of yourself or others you are trash and the world will be a better place once you are rotting in the dirt. People who think otherwise are simply allowing talented individuals to get away with being scum. Greyland herself provides evidence that this attitude that we shouldn’t be knocking others’ idols is part of what allows such people to get away with their crimes…
“One reason I never said anything is that I regarded her life as being more important than mine: her fame more important, and assuredly the comfort of her fans as more important,”
Well, fuck that. Trash is trash, and if the evildoer’s fans can’t handle the truth about their idol they need to grow the fuck up and stop worshiping people who, as human beings, are rarely better than the rest of us – and who are some times much, much worse.
Quick, how often do you think a male in his late teens to early twenties thinks about sex? Every few minutes? Every few seconds? Nope, turns out that even at such a hormone-rich stage of their lives the average man (boy, really) thinks about “getting some” only 19 times per day. That’s around once an hour, not counting sleeping hours. And that’s the other thing – he thinks about sleep more than he thinks about sex! Same with food!
This all goes against the oft-repeated malarkey about men thinking about sex (read “women”) every few seconds. Mind you, not many intelligent men need an actual study to know that we don’t think about sex every few seconds (I’ve been awake for three hours and, until someone mentioned the linked article, sex hadn’t even crossed my mind. Food had, though. So had work and taking a piss. How’s that for a real measure of male priorities?) but not everyone is intelligent and not everyone is a man. I’m pretty sure even some of the few smart women out there have found themselves believing the bull about every few seconds – let’s face it, how the hell would they know otherwise? Where this figure of every few seconds came from I don’t know, but it’s repeated all over the place. I recently ran into it in an award winning pop psych book that didn’t bother to either prove it or refute it but simply stated it as a given. And this is a book that is described by the publisher as “a thinking person’s guide!” Needless to say, my copy of this book is now lining the bottom of a neighbor’s budgie cage.
The reason why it is important to debunk this ludicrous myth is that it is simply an anti-male twist on an old anti-negro meme, namely that blacks are a bunch of animals who are driven by nothing but base urges and who will fuck anyone, or anything, at the drop of a belt. Nowadays, try this bullshit on black people and most thinking people see it for the pile of turds that it is. Try it on men and even the usually intelligent folks are apt to swallow it like a free steak dinner. And, whether they care to admit it or not, it will lower their estimation of men, just as it diminishes blacks in the eyes of the few who still choose to believe that particular lie. Rutting, sex-obsessed animals, that’s all that men are. A kind of proto-human ; half homo sapiens, half “walking penis,” to paraphrase Valerie Solanas. Why shouldn’t women be allowed to run the world? They wouldn’t be hindered by constant thoughts of dry humping the nearest couch! And why shouldn’t men be kept from sitting next to unaccompanied minors on airplanes? If you think about sex every few seconds, sooner or later you’ll get desperate enough to fuck anyone! Right?
“Once upon a time there was a wonderful matriarchy where everything was just fine and dandy until a man came along and fucked everything up.” These should be the first words spoken in Disney’s latest feminist opus “Maleficent,” but such honesty would be too blunt even for the little girls for whom this revisionist piece is intended.
In this re-working of the tale of Sleeping Beauty, screenwriter Linda Woolverton gives us a tale as far removed from the original 1959 Disney version as a pool of vomit is from a plate of lobster. The lobster went something like this ; King and Queen have a baby girl and hold a big fancy christening party to which are invited several fairies. Maleficent, the bad fairy, is not invited but turns up anyway and in return for her snubbing gives the little girl a rather odd present, namely that on her sixteenth birthday she will prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and promptly drop dead! Sheeesh, no wonder they didn’t invite her! Another fairy softens the curse by turning “death” into an “eternal sleep” and making it reversible by a “true love’s kiss.” This fairy and some of her mates take the girl, Aurora, and hide her from Maleficent. Aurora meets some Prince called Phillip and they fall in luuurve. Maleficent eventually succeeds in getting Aurora to prick her finger, thereby placing her into the promised eternal sleep. Phil battles Maleficent, kills her good and dead, places a big smooch on Aurora and all is well. Or at least, all is well unless you are a feminist cow…
In Woolverton’s new version all this is turned on its head. True, Maleficent does place the curse on the child, but not because she is angry at not being invited to the King’s big house party but rather because a while back the King, whom she once loved, hacked off her wings as part of a successful bid for the throne. So you see, in typical feminist fashion, even though Maleficent has done something bad it is not actually her fault, it’s all because her man done her wrong. On top of this, she never threatens the kid with death, but only with eternal sleep, and she is the one responsible for making the curse subject to a “true love’s kiss,” both of which, you may recall, were previously thanks to one of the other fairies. Meanwhile the fairy kingdom, having been corrupted by the vile actions of Man, has grown dark and rather gross – kinda like all those feminist fantasies of idyllic, pre-historic matriarchies having been corrupted by the hordes of patriarchy!
And speaking of dads, the King gives Aurora over to be looked after by the good fairies, but apart from that doesn’t seem to give much of a damn about his baby girl – but guess who does? Come on, guess! Well, sir, you must be psychic! That’s right, Maleficent knows where the fairies are holding the girl, decides to keep an eye on her, and it isn’t long before she is doting on her victim by sending her pet raven to feed her milk from a magical flower, saving her from falling off a cliff and being turned into a baby slushie, etc. Eventually she becomes so fond of the child (being a woman, Maleficent is instinctively fond of all children) that she tries to undo the curse, but to no avail. Once in her teens, Aurora meets a young prince called Phillip and takes a fancy to him. Soon after that meeting she is stupid enough to end up in daddy’s castle where she is held for her own safety in one of the royal chamber pots. No, wait, that can’t be right. One of the royal bed-chambers seems more likely… Unfortunately this room has a secret passage which leads Aurora to a basement where, for some inexplicable reason, daddy had all the kingdom’s spinning wheels burnt but not actually destroyed! We know he has iron-workers, so you would think he would have had the things beaten into scrap iron, but no. Stupid daddy! Even more inexplicably, Aurora then deliberately pricks her finger on one of the spindles! Like father, like daughter, I suppose. Being a bit dim herself, Maleficent decides that the “true love’s kiss” needs to be administered by Phillip, despite his having only just met Aurora. She sneaks Phil into the castle, where he kisses the sleeping Aurora and everyone is surprised to find out that teenage hormones don’t actually add up to true love, for the princess continues to snore like an elephant. Maleficent then goes into a bit about how sorry she is that things went down this way, kisses Aurora on the forehead, and sure enough, it is this kiss that brings Aurora back from eternal night! That’s right, the “true love’s kiss” is now delivered by the character who is supposed to be the villain! Even for something conceived by a feminist mind, the sheer perversity of this twist, of literally turning the villainess of the story into its heroine, is astonishing. Maleficent then kills the king (in self-defense, of course) and Aurora is proclaimed queen of not only the human kingdom but also the fairy kingdom – there’s that inexplicability thing again – and all is well, with the matriarchy having once again been restored to its naturally utopian state. From an evil child-hater to benevolent matriarch in a few swoops of the pen! How easily the modern media can undo centuries of story telling, and unsurprising how shamelessly it is willing to promote its version as the “true” story, as if they had hired some historians to find the real roots of the tale!
As a movie, divorced from its political messages, Maleficent is quite wonderful. Great visuals, a fast pace, some amusing moments, a strong message that “romantic love” isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and a likable and charismatic title character with whom it is impossible to not sympathize, especially when she wakes up to find her beloved wings have been cut from her. Unfortunately, to the intelligent mind, it is also impossible to not notice how politically vile this film is. The lesser of its two vilenesses comes in the form of the classism so inherent in most of these movies about princesses. Why, at the end, does Aurora become queen of not only the humans but also the fairies? This makes no sense at all until one looks at it in a political context. Maleficent became queen by earning her status and power. She was the most powerful of the fairies, she was their protector, so she ended up in charge. What the fuck did Aurora do to earn her position in life? Nothing – except being born to rule. Maleficent rules by actual virtue, by having earned her place in fairy society, and this makes her not real royalty but just some pleb who is filling the wrong pair of shoes. Aurora, on the other hand, rules thanks to God’s will, she rules by the Divine Right Of Kings, and hence she is real royalty and must be ruler of both kingdoms. The class message of this piece is a simple one – power achieved through merit is not legitimate, whereas power achieved through privilege such as being born into a royal family or a modern dynasty such as the Kennedies or the Bushes is perfectly cool. Or, to put it into terms the film’s demographic might understand – Privilege Rules, Hard Work Drools.
But where the movie is at its vilest is in the way it re-writes one of the few great villainesses of popular culture to be a victim, a hero, and a quasi-villain rather than the full-fledged thing. Female evil is already grossly under-represented in western popular culture, but even that is not good enough for feminists and their lackeys – if they had their way it would not be represented at all. What to do then? You can’t really get away with re-writing real-life figures like Aileen Wuornos to any great extent, but fictional figures are up for grabs and so one of pop culture’s few icons of female evil is rebooted as a victim of the patriarchy who, were it not for the corrupting influence that men have on the entire cosmos, would have grown up to be just as cute and harmless as Tinker Bell!
This doing away with representations of female evil is pernicious for two reasons. First, since there are only two sexes, under-representing female evil automatically over-represents male evil – unless you start whittling away at the male representations, and I see no sign of that happening. If you re-write Maleficent, Basic Instinct’s Catherine Tramell, and the chick from Fatal Attraction to be heroes while keeping all the Freddy Kruegers and Hannibal Lecters as they are, you will end up with a popular culture that represents evil as an exclusively male phenomenon. This gives people the impression that there are a lot more evil men than is actually the case, that women are largely blameless, and this in turn leads to the idea that women are better people than men and should therefore be treated better. And don’t go thinking this applies only to dumbasses who can’t tell the difference between movies and reality. Filmic representations get into our heads while we are highly suggestible, sitting in a darkened room being lulled into something approaching an hypnotic state, and that’s a matter of psychology, not intellect – a high IQ won’t save you from even most of this crap, much less all of it. Feminists like Woolverton know that movies have power over the way people perceive reality, and this is why you can bet that the sisterhood would be crying foul if Disney were to re-write Captain Hook to be evil because some mean woman he once loved cut his hand off!
The other reason such under-representation is so harmful is because many people take their cues from the media as to who is and is not a potential threat. Portray black men as especially dangerous and soon you will find that even the sight of a sixty year old professor in an expensive suit makes women clutch their purses – simply because he is black. Portray men in general as dangerous and women as mostly harmless, and everyone starts keeping an eye on the men and ignoring the women. This in turn leads to situations in which a man is too busy keeping an eye on his sister’s boyfriend to notice that his own girlfriend is about to brain him with a baseball bat! Or, to take some well-verified, real-life examples, he may end up being one of the parents who thought letting Helen Patricia Moore baby-sit their kid was a good idea even though one of her previous charges had died mysteriously. Had Moore been a man, chances are the cops would have been on him after the first victim, but a girl? Nah, mate, women don’t do stuff like that. An even more notorious case is that of Nannie Doss, who got away with murdering most of her family over a period of thirty years while arousing suspicion from nobody. Why? At least in part because she was a woman and women just don’t do stuff like that. Had Doss been a man, as soon as the first couple of victims hit the floor the smurfs would have launched an investigation.
The classist and misandrist propaganda littering this otherwise fine film would be vile enough in a movie aimed at adults, but in a children’s movie it is truly disgusting. It’s almost as if the bastards and bitches responsible for this thing want little girls to walk out of the movie thinking they are superior to little boys, that power should be dropped in their laps rather than earned, and that there ain’t a mean woman in the world! My advice to anyone considering this film as their next family outing? Don’t take your daughter to see it – not unless you want her to grow up to be an asshole.