Fun Feminism Facts

I really love this quote! www.angryharry.com

Western men die some five years earlier than women. They suffer more from nearly every medical disease and ailment that there is. And yet, far more money is spent by governments on women’s health than on men’s health. Men are also nowadays educationally disadvantaged significantly compared to women; with the curriculum, the teaching methods and the resources being designed to cater far more for women and girls than for men and boys. Men make up 80% of the homeless. There are more of them in social service care-homes as boys. They are manytimes more likely to be wrongfully arrested, wrongfully imprisoned, mugged, assaulted or murdered. They are 5 times more likely to lose their children when families break down, 4 times more likely to lose their homes, 4 times more likely to commit suicide, 20 times more likely to be killed or injured at work, 20 times more likely to be imprisoned, and, probably, more than 100 times more likely to be demeaned, denigrated and ridiculed by the mainstream media. Men also pay much more in taxes than women but receive far less in benefits from the government.

In other words, when compared to women, men are significantly disadvantaged when it comes to their health, their lifespans, their homes, their children, their education, their families, the tax burden, the law, the benefit system, and even when it comes to their own personal safety. 

They are nowadays also being heavily discriminated against in the work place.

How is it possible, therefore, that women are being ‘oppressed’ more than men?

In what areas?

Where?

I literally became sick to read about this. The idea of physical violence itself – even against someone who was a PROVEN rapist, let alone alleged – is enough to make my stomach turn.

KILLED BY A FALSE RAPE CHARGE Eddie Polec was 16. He was an altar boy at Philadelphia’s St. Cecilias’s Catholic Church. He was beaten to death on the steps of that church in November 1994 because someone made a false rape accusation against him.

Polec was attacked by several teen boys enraged when they were told Polec had raped one of their friends. As they beat Polec to death, several girls stood around laughing, the Associated Press reported.

Four teen boys were convicted in February 1996 of the attack. However, no charges have ever been filed against the girl who made the fatal accusation.

“Incitement to riot” charges might have been appropriate — if the incident had been fomented by a male. However, in the current climate of rape hysteria, even false accusations that result in death go unpunished.

Feminists ask, “Why would she lie?”

Answer: Because she gets away with murder.

Also, a tid-bit about single mothers and their often disastrous effect on society:

At a time when unprecedented numbers of children live with single mothers, this means that more and more of them have little or no contact with any male role model at all … which is, of course, a disaster for the boys. 

And if you want to know who is largely responsible for creating an atmosphere in which such a fear is all too horribly realistic, look no further than the twittering bunch of over-protective, over-excitable mothers clustered around our school gates. 

These are the people who have bought, wholesale, into the myth of the sexually predatory bogeyman on every corner; the people who have, in a single generation, swept us from the sensible ‘don’t take sweets from strangers’ to the absurd ‘all men are paedophiles’. 

These are the people who breathe the fire of the name-and-shame campaigns of the scurrilous end of the Press; the people who have propelled sensational memoir after memoir of child sex abuse to the top of the bestseller charts. 

These are the people who declare such abuse to be appalling, but who slavishly follow the titillating thrill of ‘kiddie-fiddler’ storylines in soaps or films – the same soaps and films that their children also watch. 

And that, of course, is the point: observant, clever and calculating as most children can be, they note the drama that thrills Mummy so very much and, sometimes, they spot their chance of a leading role in it.

Read the full article here.

Killing Men is Funny


My Life in Pictures

Summer 2007

My first show

My first kiss

My first heartbreak

New friends, old friends.

New loves, new hookups, new guys.

On a quest to be bleach blonde.

Parties, drinking, drugs, decisions.September 2007

Old loves.

First blowjob, first handjob.

Strip-teases and flirts.

Desire and love I can never have.

Regrets.

Bleach blonde.November 2007

Lonely.

Went to Detroit with my best friend.

Got mono.

Gave up the blonde.

Finally got the guy. Lost two.

New life, new shows, new friends.January 2008

Met a guy.

Mended my broken heart.

Lost my virginity.

My first boyfriend.

He met my dad.

May 2008

Unfortunately, I met his mom.

Skipping school, riding the GO Bus.

Fights, lost phones, and sexy emails.

Walks in the country.

Adopted by Gordo.

Open relationships.

A new summer.June 2008

May 2/4 means new friends.

Home Depot and neck piercings.

The bluffs, Tony, Sean, Baraq.

Beach parties, alcohol, sleepovers.

Relationships form and deteriorate.

Summer 2008A new boyfriend.

Parties on Friday, sleepovers all weekend.

Movies during the weekdays, STC.

Switching boyfriends.

A move to Oakville.


The Shining

I had a really weird dream about the Shining. It was like I was in the movie, except the mom died at the end, and not the dad. Or something.

It was really weird and scares me, despite the fact that the dream itself wasn’t too scary.

Anyways, here’s some hot chicks in panties:

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And is this one even wearing panties? We may never know…

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This one isn’t even bothering. What a lazy slob.

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She doesn’t have a vagina… So it’s not really pornographic.

Anyways, after looking at these images on a particular imageboard, someone poasted a picture of the cover of the book, The Shining.

That tripped me out and there’s nothing worse than being tripped out at fucking 3:21 pm, so I’m going to sleep.

Ed, Edd and Eddy

My favourite show as a child was none other than Ed Edd and Eddy.

I did this sketch not too long ago in the likeness of this deviantart artist: 14-bis.

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The drawing is not that great, it took me about 10 minutes at 3 am, and the quality of the picture is shit, but this post is not about that sketch.

This post is a homage to that great show.

I still remember why I liked it so much at my age. These characters lived in a world of their own with no adults or parental guidance, no school, no church, nothing that could possibly deter them from their ultimate goal: having fun and eating jawbreakers.

Whta’s sad is that most teenage shows include and are ultimately based upon the presence of school, teachers, and parents.

Is that honestly how we view our lives as adolescents? Run by institutions, guided by adults? Whatever happened to hanging out and having fun and not worrying about school?

Maybe I’m immature, or living in the past, or thinking up fantasies.

I guess that’s what happens when you drop out of high school. You stop thinking like the institutionalized, braindead drone they teach you to be and regain the free spirit and love for fun you once had as a kid.

I wouldn’t trade it for any degree or any amount of money in the world, though.

I want to make a diary

I never have time to write in my real diary with pens & pencils, and the notepad on my old computer is sitting within a pile of bits and computer chips, unreachable by me.

 

i used to write such a long, interesting, detailed and funny stories about my life.

 

sigh.

To Carve Love on her Skull

fuck the title

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Childhood love is a bliss that is never felt again.

When it is lost you crash and then you ponder, and come to the realization that this sweet feeling is too easily lost, and you never feel anything like it again; it is taken away from you, to vulnerable to ever return. Some lucky few can hold onto it forever, but are they so lucky? How do you grow without pain, how can you know love unless you know the true opposite?

I think it is possible, with gentle coaxing, to feel such a strong feeling again. Only if you are a strong soul, a soul that can take numerous beatings; after all, isn’t that what love is?

Few know the true essence of love, and many more adults claim teenagers, children, cannot truly be in love, but I feel the opposite. In fact, I think it is children who know true love, and learn it by simply being innocents.

They know love is not selfish but the opposite, it is selfless. It is a love for the other person and the desire to benefit the other, not yourself. It is about suffering, and making yourself to suffer in order to please, and while many feminists crying domestic abuse may bemoan me, they take it the wrong way.

Suffering to please simply means there must be some tragedy in order to strengthen your adoration. As they say, “absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

On the other hand, claims that “I am always thinking of them – I must be in love!” is so very wrong, I wonder why it is such a prevailing idea. You think of them for your own benefit, it is a selfish thing. You think of them because you want to be loved, and they are there to fulfill that desire. 

Love is often a dependency, one person needing the other because they fill their dependencies. One is lonely, and the other is always available; meanwhile, the available one needs to be depended on to feel worthwhile.

That was sketchily written, but I can’t think of a better way to put it. It is simply the truth that neither does a thing to satisfy the other, directly.

A childhood love – or first love – is one of the most selfless we can have, and also the one we look back most fondly on.

Is it really only because it was the first? Or is it because the passion was never the same afterwards, and such strong feelings always linger in us?

Or is the selflessness guilty for such fond memories?

House on the Lake

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Somewhere on the lake is a little cabin house, hidden within the fields of flowers and deep green grasses, and gating the forest. In this house amazing things happen, every single day. A mind that is not affected by the mundane, conformist thinking of institutions of social situations brews here. Without the presence of these monstrous machines, love is created, for the self, others, nature, beauty, innocence, and even God herself.

For Mother Nature does not care how many things you have accumulated in your life. She does not care about your contacts, connections, and all the friends you’ve made by being the person you think is socially acceptable.

In that house on the lake, you love yourself and no one ever tells you to hate you.

There’s no reason to.