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.

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…

I think it safe to say that in a decade or two the above performance will be seen in pretty much the same light as Krusty The Clown’s now infamous Apollo Theater appearance of 1997…

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?

And I must admit that until a few minutes ago I was firmly on one of those sides. In fact, this article was originally called “Ray Rice is the Victim.” No matter how many times I viewed the video on Firefox I could not see Janay Rice back hand Ray, nor could I see him spitting on her just before that! I guess the moral of the story is that Firefox has become an unreliable piece of shit and I should start using another browser as the default. In SeaMonkey, the aforementioned events are clearly visible and hence my opinion has changed. What I previously saw as starting when she seems to elbow him in the elevator, now starts when he spits on her. True, it is possible that before they got in front of the camera she spat on him or hit him, and for all we know she may have been abusing him for months or vice versa, but we have to go with the evidence we have today not the evidence we may have tomorrow — if we do otherwise all rational argument is pointless, for tomorrow some creationist may find actual proof that the world is only a few thousand years old!

So, as I see it, this is what happens. He spits on her, she back hands him lightly when outside, once inside the elevator she seems to elbow him, and he retaliates with a fairly soft punch. And yes, it is a soft punch, were it not she wouldn’t have been able to come charging at him right afterwards. At that point he defends himself from what is clearly an imminent attack – surely not even the most addle-brained feminist would claim Janay was rushing forwards to kiss and make up – by hitting her with what is, at the most, a punch of moderate power. At this point I can hear the feminists scream hysterically, “Moderate! Oh, my fucking god! He knocked her out!” But you see, to those who actually know something about fighting it is clear that he is not putting any significant torque behind that punch, hence it is unlikely that he is intending do serious damage. In fact, the punch could even be seen as using a jab to stop an opponent getting too close. As for her going down, of course she goes down, the silly bitch is basically running into the punch! Doing so multiplies the force, hence chances are that even a woman’s punch would have taken her down under those circumstances. Now, if old Ray had stomped on her head once she was down that would have been a different matter, but as it is his was a reasonable and controlled defense.

What all this does is leave me in two minds. On the one hand, he starts the aggression by spitting on her, but on the other hand she is the one who gets physical by slapping him, and once she gets physical she can’t really be complaining that he retaliates. But then there’s that first hand – you know, the one Ray spat on. Hence the ambiguity of the situation. Perhaps the correct view of this incident is quite simply that two assholes got into an elevator and some shit went down. But that’s not good enough for the feminists. As we have seen in the past, the female supremacists are big on taking an ambiguous situation and portraying it as one in which the male is clearly the guy with the black hat and the weird moustache, so once again the feminist hate machine and its ass-kissing supporters have gone into overdrive to lynch a man who may or may not be the guilty party. Amongst feminists the motto is a simple one – when in doubt, blame the male. What matters to them is that they be able to use this case to further feed the all-important narrative of “Woman = Good, Man = Bad” for that is where a huge chunk of their power to stoke female privilege comes from. As for the non-feminists piling on the Big Bad, they are simply going along with our society’s view of men as some sort of second class human being, though I don’t suppose the males doing so are actually aware of this. To such men being the First Sex is part of what makes them “real” men and admitting to not being the top dog is pretty much the same as cutting off their own nuts. And so Rice loses his job (something which, incidentally, does Janay no big favors either!) gets suspended from the NFL and is treated like the most evil thing since Chris Brown.

What the fuck is going on when such an ambiguous situation can lead to a man losing his job and being forever branded that most awful of things – an abuser of women – for the rest of his life? The primary problem here is that, thanks to a disastrous confluence of feminist activism, traditionalist views of women as morally superior, and plutocratic interest, men now occupy a social space occupied by Negroes throughout much of the early twentieth century. Much in the same way that blacks in the old days were not permitted to strike back against whites without facing serious consequences for daring to hit their “betters,” today’s men – be they black, white, or pink with blue spots – are not permitted to strike back against whitey, it’s just that today whitey can be as black as she wants to be as long as she’s got the right anatomy under that skirt. There is no other explanation for this state of affairs. It is certainly not the size difference that is so often mentioned in such cases, we know that because if we keep the size difference but throw out the sex difference the argument changes drastically. “Oh, a 5’8”, 200 lb dude knocked out another dude roughly 5’4” and 150lb? Who cares?” would have been the world-wide reaction had both the people in that elevator been males. And we all know that if the size difference was kept and the sexes reversed, the whole world would be resounding with cries of “You go, girl!” and the woman who may or may not be the villain of the piece would be acclaimed by the media as some sort of feminist heroine standing up against male tyranny. If you don’t think so, consider the reaction when it was thought that Tiger Woods’ wife had beaten him with a golf club after discovering he’d been putting his wood in the wrong hole!

No, this isn’t about size or strength, it isn’t about right and wrong, it isn’t even really about domestic violence. It’s about the sacred rule that a man must never hit a woman, no matter what she does. It’s about female privilege, and it’s about treating half the human race as lesser beings – but that’s perfectly cool with most people, as long as it’s the right half getting pissed on.