FYI to mothers and fathers of boys: it is open season on your son in our gyno-centric culture, and the feminists are pushing hard for a no-closed season and no-bag limit. If you’re a parent of a boy and would like him to retain his masculine distinctiveness, you might as well go ahead and buy the family HazMat suits because you’re dealing with a feminist philosophy that is hazardous to your boy’s masculine health.
The feminists and the men who have yielded up their private parts to the lesbians—I mean feminists—have an organized system of male hatred that they just can’t wait to slap your son with. They’re out in stretch pant force in Hollywood, our school systems and in limp churches with one goal in mind: to turn your son into a dandy they can direct.
The primary message of our increasingly jacked-up, feminized nation is that there is nothing about men that is good, or even acceptable. Guys get tolerated nowadays only to the extent that they yield to the cultural castration. To the feminist, the only good man is either a dead one or a neutered one.
Get it right mom and dad, your son is the Nuevo piñata of postmodernism, and according to the Ms.’s, their sex is to blame for all societal ills. For the dasypygal misandrist matriarchs, men are but a necessary evil whom they’d like to silence and dehumanize. And to make it fun for the fem’s, they’ve made men the brunt of all of their jokes.
Speaking of jokes . . . why are you so touchy, feminists? What has happened to your tough skin? Jeez, Louise. I can’t even tell a joke about a woman any longer without NOW coming over to my house and unscrewing all my light bulbs.
Case in point: I was at the Miami Improv the other night watching two comedians, one man and one woMAN. Both comedians told jokes that took jabs at the opposite sex. The female, a semi-funny, chunky has-been said, “my mom always said men are like linoleum floors. Lay ‘em right, and you can walk all over them for thirty years.” All the women roared with laughter, and my buddies and me grinningly agreed. Then the male counterpart took the stage and said, “women are like cow dung: the older they get, the easier they are to pick up.” The men of course hit the floor laughing, but the women, the women, let out a deep growl of disapproval. It was as if the comedian said he’d like to eat a deep-fried kitten for dinner or something. Seems like these girls can dish it, but they can’t take it. Oh, well . . . back to my original screed.