An open letter on Men’s Rights

 

Circulated at Arizona University by Men's Rights Activists

Circulated at Arizona University by Men’s Rights Activists

Dear Men’s Rights chaps,

I’m writing this open letter to you because it’s clear than no-one has explained to you the benefits of a benign Matriarchy.

I’ll try to set out the key points so that you can come to your senses and see for yourselves how much your life could be improved.

You might get laid, for starters. With your newly defined status as sex objects, even if you are ‘plain’ by most standards, there will be a woman or women that wouldn’t mind “giving you one”; particularly if you take the care to pretty yourself up and wear clothing we find ‘provocative’.

You’d find a whole new range of careers, too. You could be the assistant to a glamorous business woman, a nanny to some challenging children, a nurse or primary school teacher – all delightful ways to put you in touch with your nurturing side. You won’t be paid or valued much, but think of the personal satisfaction!

If you are deemed conventionally attractive, you might find a role as a call boy, a model, an erotic dancer or a porn star – you WILL be well paid and have lots of opportunity for sex – wouldn’t that be nice?

If a wealthy woman takes a fancy to you, well, you’ll have a fantastic lifestyle. Imagine shopping with your friends all day and enjoying exotic holidays, while your looks last, of course. I’m afraid there won’t be any alimony, because we will have abolished that, but you’ll have some fabulous memories to think back on; once you are traded in for a younger model.

As for being ‘butch’, of course this will be encouraged. We still need you to do the sweaty, grunty stuff your genetics designed you for.

If, on the other hand, you are ‘good with computers’ as so many of you activists seem to be, there will be jobs for you, as well. You can take care of all the admin, while the women are out doing the important stuff.

We’re not sure that you are responsible enough to have a vote, because, after all, you made a mess of the world while you had the power; but don’t worry your pretty little heads about that.

You can learn to cook, clean and look after the kids and running of the household in addition to your full time job, it’s challenging, but you can have it all! Aren’t you lucky!

There will be education,of a kind, open to you, mainly focussing on your support skills, manual trades and homemaker training – you’ll be in the company of your fellow men, so you can indulge that tribal instinct of yours with breaks to run about and get sweaty with a ball.

You’ll have to make the most of it, though, because in twenty years or so, we’ll be making you redundant. Once we’ve milked the brightest, fittest, attractive and most compliant of you of your sperm reserves, you will, in fact, be obsolete and because so many of us will abort boy babies, your numbers will diminish, but no matter, enjoy it while you can!

You will, of course, be expected to live up to impossible ideas of physical beauty, but think of it as a hobby, that will last you all your life and utilise those hunting instincts of yours to find the best plastic surgeons and clothes designers to make you attractive to women. It’ll keep you pretty busy!

So, all in all, what’s not to like? So stop tweeting nonsense, or creating silly little websites and come to momma. You know you’ll love it, you dirty little bitches.

Yours patronisingly,

 

Madame Wilde

A gathering of jackals

imageMy inbox is often an interesting place. That’s not a euphemism. Through a convoluted process of investigating esoteric groups, art galleries, book stores, boutique hotels, pop up events, happenings, shops, theatres and clubs, I’m on a lot of “alternative” mailing lists.

I received one this afternoon, that immediately created a vivid picture in my mind, that I had to write about. It was an invitation from “Cougars and Cubs” which I was invited to join the other week. Thinking it would probably be a hilarious evening with my girlfriends, I said OK, gave them an unidentifying mugshot and a screen-name and left it at that.

There has been a flurry of requests this week from “cubs”, little boys aged 18 to 23. I’ve been impolite and have not responded, because, honestly, letting loose my pent up female energy on a child so young would not only scar him for life, but afterwards, I would feel bad enough to put myself on a sex offender’s register.

It’s WRONG, somehow. For me, anyway. I don’t flatter myself that I have been singled out for an approach, knowing young boys, they’ve been bright enough to send an email to any likely woman on the list. Perhaps they’ll get lucky.

Imagine my surprise when I get an invitation today that tells me that I am invited to a cubs n cougars party next week and 56 – yes FIFTY SIX other women have already RSVP’d.

In my over-imaginative brain, fuelled by a very giggly lunch with an old friend, various scenarios popped into my head. I imagined all these Amazonian, sexually confident, women, circling these young boys like jackals at a watering hole.

Eighteen to twenty five year old boys are an unappealing mixture of severe and raging hormones and limited experience (from what I can remember back in the Iron Age). I thought of them as tiny Ibex, young, skittish, yet curious, surrounded by the slavering beasts.

As only 25 cubs had signed up for said Party, they were in scarce supply and were bound to be torn limb from limb by a bitchkreig of horny women. It would not be pretty.

Any woman reading this will know how competitive the fairer sex can get when there is a limited supply of anything. One only has to look at the Sales to see the shadow side of the average female rear up and bare her jagged teeth and claws to grab a bargain.

It is a fight to the death, with an undercurrent of such feral greed, that even the most crazed Taliban terrorist would run in fear from. Imagine if sex is added into the mix? The apocalypse would compare as a polite disagreement over how to cut the crust off a cucumber sandwich, at a maiden aunt’s tea party.

So many men haven’t a clue about what lies beneath the smiling facade of many women. We’re relatively subtle and often only other women can spot our signals.

It starts with that LOOK at the competition. You know the one, ladies. It takes a fraction of a second, but it lists, scores and compares any other female’s attributes and their likelihood of pulling with inhuman speed.

I know, myself, that if I attract glances like this, that I’m looking good. The more dagger eyes, the better. No matter how uncomfortable it can be. If you’re looking rough, you don’t attract their attention at all. You’re deemed as on the subs bench. Injured. You won’t be playing.

I could tell you (and I’m not alone in this), which woman in a crowd goes like a train, who is madly in love and not worth approaching and which one will have your family pet boiling in a saucepan within the week. Women are born with this split second assessment ability of other women. It’s something very primal.

Men, on the other hand, are clueless (sorry chaps, but it’s true). I’ve seen women come on so strong to a man, literally wagging her lady bits inches from his nose in a primal signal of “fuck me now” (she was not a lap dancer and we were in a restaurant) and the poor chap said to me afterwards: “What, her? Don’t be stupid, she’s just a friend, definitely not interested in me THAT way.” It’s enough to make me start up as a dating coach for the poor bastards.

I’m the sort of woman that finds it demeaning and very bad taste to compete for a man. My moves are so damn subtle it can take forever for a chap to catch on that I’ve been having impure thoughts about him. That’s not through any Machiavellian design, or game playing; I just find the being obvious thing, undignified and I’d embarrass myself.

Once my blood’s up, however, in an ongoing relationship or dalliance, that’s a different matter, entirely – but as a ploy to ‘snare’ a man? No thanks. I’d rather save up a nice surprise for later, in private. Lady in the drawing room and all that…

Back to the watering hole. These young boys won’t know what’s hit them. By the time they’ve realised they are going home with a Valkyrie, it will be far.too.late. What’s more, they won’t have a clue how it happened. It is, somehow, a slaughter of the innocents.

I was thinking, what would I have been like if the ‘watering hole’ situation represented the only chance a woman had to find a mate?

I think I’d be the drowsy puma on a branch, watching the fracas from a distance, probably wearing a diamond collar, if I could find one out in the bush.

I might flick my tail a bit and snarl if one of the jackals came near and use my vantage point to spot my prey from a long way away.

There’s NO chance he’d even get to the watering hole. Poor lamb. But at least I’d be subtle. Deadly, yes, but it would be such a pleasant death.

So think and perhaps pray (if that’s your thing) for those poor boys next Friday, for they know not what they do. They’ve been watching MILF porn for years and have this vision of a sexy Mrs Robinson type in mind, but the reality, like nature, is red in tooth and claw. For yonder, there be jackals.

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