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Worldwide Portfolio:
Psychology
Region:
South Australia, Victoria & Tasmania
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Money, MROs and Effective Action
O rganisational support scattered around the world are a growing number of Men’s Rights Organisations (MROs), some quite broad in scope and some quite small and highly focused. Father’s rights feature more than any. Over the past six or seven years the ‘conciousness’ of men has been slowly rising and the public becoming more aware of the bias and lies against men. To do better, become more effective, some MROs seek our financial input.
It is slow coming.
The Authorities aren’t going to give men money for Men’s organisations. Men don’t have tits. And an organisation cannot develop without money for staff and resources. And that’s before they even DO anything.
Asking hurt men for monies to support an organisation is quite legitimate but eventually will be seen as a wasted gift if that organisation doesn't do something that multiplies the input and effects a significant change.
Most men who have been affected by outrageous Family Court bias have been dispossessed or left considerably poorer than they were and are financially strapped. They want to know that their financial outlays to MROs are going to have an effect.
Many organisations try to be 'civilised' and tackle matters through legislators who don't give a damn, and get nowhere. In the USA much effort is put into lobbying, perhaps more there than in any other country. Some groups gather and spread information and spearhead email and letter campaigns - with remarkably good effect, as shown by the PBS effort. (There should be a LOT more of THAT going on).
Some, like Harry Crouch’s active group in California have extended a welcome to other focused men’s groups, providing office space, and united in joint efforts with groups like CRISPE and individuals like Ray Blomhorst. They make a difference at the individual level, advising men in strife and organizing ‘road trips’ with their superbly decorated motor-home cum office cum protest wagon, to take the message to the parks and conferences, highways and byways. Great stuff.
Some forge new means of mass communication and develop a central meetinghouse for news and intelligent discussion and debate. Sacks, RADAR, MND, several sound discussion forums such as SYG and Karl Matthews’ Anti-Misandry exist and have made inroads into the public conscience.
We even have radio programmmes: in Australia, Dads on the Air; in the USA Kright’s Radio and Glenn Sacks’ slot (now finished, I understand). These are well placed for commercial money input.
We have first class researchers and courageous writers in Usher, Roberts, Baskerville et al who wield power with their keyboards.
All these deserve our support and even for us to dig into our meager funds.
But we still haven't shaken the rafters let alone the foundations.
Even with the financially supported groups, where are the runs on the board? Where are the effective successes? Where are the Standards with battle-honours for us to rally around?
The only group that has made a well-known impact is F4J, which for all the criticism attending, did raise financial support and did get international attention on fathers’ plight. F4J stimulated. But, F4J apart, where has there been a signal that the trend in society toward disintegration, family destruction, male/female misunderstanding and toxic relationships have improved/reversed? The war on men continues unabated and there is little sign of a concerted and effective response.
Civilised Action
Being civilised isn't the most adequate strategy when the civil authorities and the mass of hangers-on, the rent-seeker professions, the downright thieving legal establishment simply over-rides and retains the power to ignore. War is seldom pleasant. We are far too pleasant.
We are seeing this 'fight' in a far too civilised way. Discussion is grand, but ultimately a wasted effort if no change is apparent. This is a war to rescue Western Civilisation before it is so damaged that only replacement rather than refurbishment or evolution can restore the fruits it once so proudly bore. And in a war we sometimes have to do things we would rather not.
We have to not only protest to Authorities and provide assistance to individual men in strife, but bang some, many, heads together. Give headaches and heartaches. We need to cause PAIN, where we have previously focused effort on 'supplication' to the deaf and diseased minds of uncaring, money grubbing, power-wielding scum who occupy public and professional position.
'Institutions' can absorb an awful lot of criticism and ineffective debate. Institutions are masters at mendacity and distortion and can take the most reasonable and reasoned arguments and simply distort and dismiss them or bury them in endless conference. The ‘voice of the people’ is easily drowned out by official procedure and pronouncement.
But those institutions have active stakeholders. People. People who benefit personally simply by being part of those institutions. These people have careers and ‘position’ which are funded by the pain and dispossession of others. These people see no wrong in what they do, just as Adolph Eichmann saw no wrong in 'obeying orders'.
Well chaps (and the occasional chapess) we have to disabuse them of their fantasy. If we are to get anywhere we must make the personal, political and the political, personal. The parasitic beneficiaries of the pain of men and families, the same folk who torture us daily, must be made to pay for all their dinners. It is they we have to hit hard. Not simply the Institutions or the Legislations. We ought to be looking closely at ways of bringing the pain home to the pain-givers. That would be an effect worth a modest membership fee or contribution.
Psychological Warfare
Wars are fought not just with weapons but with information and propaganda. The feminazis are masters and mistresses of distortion and lies. Black propaganda. But there are three levels of propaganda.
We have tried to counter with White propaganda, the Truth, information, argument, analysis, and we should continue to do so. Even redouble the effort. We are such nice chaps. And there is the Gray propaganda – personal innuendo and exposure, suborning the enemies troops with dirt on their leaders. We haven’t even tried that yet. The most vulnerable targets for that are individual people rather than feminist or civil organisations.
We have made some headway with propagating Truth, countering the lies in such a lot of academic ‘research’. Our efforts in simply communicating on the internet has had a small effect in spreading truth to counter lies. Organisations such as RADAR are very slowly reshaping the perceptions of newspaper editors and journalists, simply by gathering, analyzing and refuting much of what passes for feminist considered thought in print.
We need to move to the other mode. The Gray mode. We don’t need to go Black. What we need amongst the sound research into this or that issue is a dirt-gathering effort. We need to focus on discrediting and destroying INDIVIDUALS. They howl louder than an institution that dines every fortnight on caviar.
We need to target Judges, lawyers, politicians, Professors, Feminazi group leaders, whoever, and ruin careers, ransack their personal treasuries, destroy their family loyalties and affections, alienate them from their friendship groups, wherever. A good objective would be five people per annnum in every State. 250 in the USA, 40 in Australia, a hundred in the UK etc.
The emails and letters and banners and plaquards and signs in Utes should be directed at Individuals. Make them hurt. There are plenty of dispossessed guys who have no assets left worth a damn who can front a splendid slander-fest against a Judge or two and dare the bastards to sue.
What is needed to raise the awareness of the great apathetic majority out there are newspaper headlines of this or that Judge or lawyer or whatever getting his/her cumuppence; that he/she is a scumbag and plain not nice to associate with.
We can even have monthy 'Nifong' awards for men's group excellence.
It was YOU that got rid of Nifong. Not his deeds. Not just the boys’ defence lawyers, families and family money. Lawyers, money and family on one side or another, lose. It was public outrage driven by emails and letters and commentary that drove the nails home.Dirt, gentlemen. Career death. Professional disgrace. Financial ruin. That’s what these scum deserve.
Make the playing so damn personally costly for the players and maybe we will see the demise of the appalling mafia rort of the family court and the dispersal of all the rent-seeking ‘professional’ scum; the charlatan counselors and zoshal verkers.
Maybe the politicians will sit up and take notice when their careers are exposed as built on graft. Academics thrive on ‘citation’ and the hacking of academic databases to insert explosive information would seriously damage their grant –thieving abilities. Where are our in-house hackers?
The ‘women’s shelter’ manager exposed ( or even suspected ) for theft of public funds and promoting hatred and child abuse, can find a constituency turning on her. We need more F4J type paint jobs and door-lock glueings.
War is hell, but we have to make sure that the enemy feels it. They love their filthy ideology so much, so let’s make their careers, wealth, relationships and social life die for it.
Strategies for Raising Money and making a splash.
Asking for membership fees and selling mugs and T-shirts gets us only so far. A good source of revenue to men’s groups could be gained from many small financial wins against companies. Companies should be sued for damages in whatever ways we can find. Men should be coached in how to bring a sexual harassment claim or a suit under anti-discrimination legislation. Women seem to be getting quite fat on such wins.
Probably the best way for ‘everyman’ to get monies for the cause is through small claims courts where the filing fees are very small and a demand for a sum under five thousand dollars is barely worth defending, what with lawyers fees and public exposure. Out of court settlement is a fine means to get redress.
Angry Harry has this idea too. When writing recently about men not being ‘allowed’ to sit next to unaccompanied children on planes (an outrageous slur on the honour and integrity of ALL men) he had this to say - :
My advice to MRAs who find themselves on BA flights is to complain about everything - and to sue in the small claims court for the slightest 'damages' which might be deemed legitimate.
Brits can use Money Claim Online to issue a summons with hardly any effort. It is a very effective means of seeking damages for small amounts.
The cost of making a claim is small; and if you lose, that is all that you can lose.
If you are suing a big company, however, they will have to use a lawyer - which will cost them a fortune, and so the chances are that they will not even bother to defend a claim.
There are plenty of companies who have shown their liking for misandry and a complete disregard for men’s dignity. They advertise themselves on our TVs. Walking into their premises and having a fall, particularly if some product should hit you would make a good negligence claim which their insurer would much prefer to pay than defend. Got a handy bruise from your gardening? Make it pay its way. It ain’t just old ladies who can slip on a cabbage leaf in the supermarket.
Every $1000 won in this way could benefit an MRO immensely.
Civil suits need to be made against individuals for the damage they have done. Men should sue their ex-wives for emotional pain and suffering. Their new boyfriends, if taken up with while the marriage was still alive, should be sued for alienation of affection. Make the bastards pay.
There are numerous rich men who have been ‘stung’ by rapacious wives. Just look at the huge ‘settlement’ that the little scouse shit, Sir Paul MacCartney paid out to the 4 year skank-wife. $265 million ! It beggars the imagination. Has anyone contacted him? Why was there not a mass email campaign made to convince him to fight rather than to throw his money away? Why were 500 emails not sent supporting him and asking for 1% of what he was about to capitulate on?
With a bit of financial support, the sort of email campaign that Glenn Sacks did for the PBS mendacity could be repeated every month with selected targets who could capitulate more effectively for us.If men did this on a mass basis, growing monies could be donated to men’s organisations to mount much larger suits against prominent Femonazi stooges; suits against publishers; suits against police. I would pay a membership fee to an organized effort like that.
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The Facts of Life
By: Amfortas
People behave, think, feel, interact, largely through inherited modes of which, individually, from the ’inside’, we are barely aware. Our gender is a huge constellation of ‘automatic’ features which we discover as we go along. We learn from ourselves. If we take notice, that is. Some get to quite advanced years without picking up the necessary cues, or ignore them. To their fatal cost.
Some like Gwyn Edwards. I came across Gwyn in a BBC web article. Here it is, but it will no doubt disappear by the time you get to click on the link so the gist of it is dealt with below. Just as he has.
Ex-prostitute is guilty of murder
A former prostitute is facing life in prison after being found guilty of murdering her elderly husband after discovering he was not a wealthy man.
Tatjana Edwards, 27, was convicted at London's Southwark Crown Court of murdering her husband Gwyn, 72, at their home in Ottershaw, Surrey.
She had admitted stabbing him but told police it was an accident.
As the verdict was announced, Edwards gasped, buried her head in her hands and collapsed, sobbing inconsolably. The jury of four men and eight women took four hours to find her guilty of murdering her husband during a row on 11 June last year. Judge Geoffrey Rivlin said the only sentence he could pass was life imprisonment but he would not do so until Friday. "There are matters I want to think about," he said. The still-sobbing Edwards was then helped to her feet and led to the cells.
Well, there we go. Poor woman was ‘inconsolable’ and had to be ‘helped’. The Judge had things to think about. And so do we. Let’s look at some of the major features of gender that shine through in this case, illuminating lessons for us all. The ‘female’ of the species behaves, thinks, feels, interacts in predictable gender ways. So does the male. If we men are to prevail at all in our society, survive even, we must become acutely aware of how women operate. Let’s see how she operated.
Snare Client
The 13-day trial heard that, having turned her back on a "strict" religious upbringing, Estonian-born Tatjana Plotnikova arrived in Britain in April 2002 as a student. She said she ended up being raped and forced into prostitution before eventually escaping her pimp's clutches. While selling sex for £200 a time at a Hampstead brothel in north London, Edwards set out to snare her client Mr Edwards, who hinted he was a multi-millionaire, the trial was told. A whirlwind romance was followed by her agreeing to forsake her weekly £6,000 wage for what she thought would be a new life of even greater luxury.
Lying comes naturally for most people but most people try to not lie most of the time. There is a ‘cost’ to lies. Trust and integrity are destroyed. They will lie when they can gain and advantage or escape consequence and they care not for trust or integrity. Not even their own. What her background was is really a matter of conjecture. We certainly can’t trust what she says about her life or her predicaments because she is a liar. A ‘student’ from Estonia, with a ‘strict religious up-binging’, ‘raped’ and ‘forced’ to work in a brothel.
Oh yeh. Poor widdle girl. What a nasty world. So she says. She fucked 30 men a week. ‘Forced’ to, of course for the tiny meager sum of UKP6000 a week. That’s 312,000 a year. By the Lord Harry, you’d think she would be more than happy with that. How many of the patriarchy get 312,000 quid a year for fucking 30 women a week and those oppressed women paying for the privilege? Hands up all you fortunate bastards.
She deployed no skills hard won in an apprenticeship or 20 years of hard work. No developed career. No college degrees, not even with subsidies and preferential selection. She just lay back and thought of Estonia and opened her legs. For a huge sum. But she wanted even more. For even less. So this 27 y/o woman declared ‘love’ for a 72 y/o man. Hah! As if.
Now, women make a great show of ‘Lurve’. They swear by it. It drives their lives. They say. But it is a lie. The woman’s lie. It is at odds with the fact, the observable, that women with means rarely declare love for poor men, even hunky poor men. Tradesmen. Hunky garbage collectors. She didn’t ‘escape’ from her pimp into the helpful arms of the local chip-shop owner or council electrician. No, she chose someone she thought was rich. Now, why do you think that is? It’s an easy one. It’s in our natures of course. Women want powerful providers. Even ‘Pimps’ fill that role. Better than an honest chip-shop owners with his deep fryers. But many women go too far. They want everything for nothing on their part. They have ‘entitlement issues’. That is far more powerful as a drive. Even the ordinary woman-in-the-street who marries ‘for love’ won’t marry a poor man. If he doesn’t shape up to her expectations, she will berate him. A long, slow death by a thousand sharp words. Men, on the other hand do not care whether a woman is rich and powerful. Men actually ‘Love’ much more. More than women seem able to, by their nature. Men love for love’s sake. They love the woman whatever her station in life or her means. Even a prostitute. Even counter sales girls who have no drive to own and be responsible for the chip-shop. The man doesn’t care what she ‘provides’ as long as she is devoted to him. Loves him. Men seek love and are far too easily led into false love promises by liars. It seems to be in men’s natures, too. It has to be recognised and guarded against.
Men have to change their nature. Or at least gain control over those elements that lead them to their doom. Especially when it comes to women. But not long after moving in to Mr Edwards's cramped bungalow and going through a modest ceremony at the local register office, she began to realise the truth. The court heard that, as matters spiralled from bad to worse, she "drained" the marketing consultant's bank account with endless demands for cash, numerous trips abroad and a seemingly insatiable desire for designer clothes and other luxuries. Meanwhile she complained endlessly about his "boring" life, his personal habits and a host of broken promises ranging from a fruitless house hunting exercise to a cancelled breast enhancement operation. Then, almost certainly during a final row about money, she stabbed him in the stomach with a large kitchen knife, Wendy Joseph (prosecuting) said Edwards claimed she had been trying to commit suicide and the knife slipped while her husband struggled to disarm her, but the jury did not believe her. Take, steal, demand, berate, complain. Strip him of his money, his dignity and then his life. Her tits were worth more to her than his life. If she couldn’t have her tits go under the knife, the knife would go into his guts. She went too far. Tut tut.
But is she so different from other women who ‘play the game’ with more subtlety? More guile? It is a difference only of degree rather than kind. The tension between the sexes is based on differing expectations. Love for one’s-self on the one hand, and greed, lies, deception and demeanment on the other, disguised as Lurve’.
Addendum: In the MRM we often hear expressions of preference for prostitutes. Easy sex. Pay and move on. But it is a fool and his money that are soon parted. Prostitutes are sometimes seen as more ‘honest’ than the ordinary woman-in-the-street who marries ‘for love’. They aren’t. They simply take the pleasure of 30 men a week AND the money, a state of play that no man can even consider aspiring to. Then they blame the men.
That’s in their nature too.
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I Don't Speak to You Anymore
By: Amfortas
How can this be, you who are so beautiful?
You find this unthinkable.
In your mind I should leap, as my heart does.
Did.
To be that young man who plays a walk-on part
in the drama that is your life.
And you the talented lead actress.
Of her generation.
You are young, attractive, nubile, poised, successful.
Empowered.
Yet, I do not speak to you.
I listen to you.
You tell me I am afraid of successful women.
But I am not a’feared of you
Or your success,
Or your beauty.
You are not seeing my heart.
It holds a thousand transgressions,
Against my dignity.
Each a grain of sand, but oh so numerous.
They make a mountain on which I sit
And weep.
I do not speak to you because
I've tried before.
I've been genuine and mannerly,
interested in your life.
Yet, when I ask to build a bridge of friendship connecting us,
to seek a common ground upon which we can both meet,
Your glassy-eyed look speaks of me bothering you.
You are not seeing my heart.
It holds a thousand criticisms,
Against my humanity.
Each a pebble, but oh so numerous.
They make a mountain on which I sit
And weep.
You do not see me,
seeing you.
You want me to see the you of your imagination,
While I desire the real.
You are the stage, the play, and I am cast.
Out. Stage left.
I can not even be your audience.
You are not seeing my heart.
It holds a thousand minor lines of lies and invention,
Against the reality of my soul.
Each a stone, but oh so numerous.
They make a mountain on which I sit
And weep.
"Why are you bothering me,
won't you please shut up and leave?"
I have left.
Eventually, I learned that the common ground
is not there, nor is a place
upon which I wish to walk.
You burned my bridges.
I don't speak to you because I've tried before.
I've tried to develop interests
in the things that interest you.
No matter how insipid, trivial, or dull
I find the stories of your imagined friends
who I've never met,
of people I do not know,
of things that have no interest in seeing,
or buying.
For you.
You are not seeing my heart.
It holds a thousand minor insults,
Against my integrity.
Each a rock, but oh so numerous.
They make a mountain on which I sit
And weep.
You do not listen to me.
You are not interested in my life.
Only in my lines,
Written for your play,
In which you star.
You want you to talk to you.
You behave as if my life is a bother to you.
You're not interested
in finding out who I am.
I'm supposed to be off in the shadows, only to step
into the limelight when the central drama needs me
to support you.
When my time has passed, it's back into the shadows,
replaced with someone else
acting, speaking your next cue lines.
You are not seeing my heart.
It holds a thousand minor accusations,
against my honour.
Each a boulder, but oh so numerous.
They make a mountain on which I sit
And weep.
I don't speak to you anymore
because you're no different than anyone else.
You're not unique.
There's nothing special about you
That the wardrobe mistress and make up artist
Have not created for legions of chorus-girls.
You love the chorus.
Your backdrop.
I do not speak to you anymore.
I did.
I adored you.
You.
You brought the curtain down.
You brought the house down.
You brought our family down.
You taught your lines to our children.
You are not seeing my heart.
It holds a thousand major crimes
against Love.
Each a monolith, and oh so numerous.
They make a range of mountains
Which buried my tears.
So, I refuse to speak to you anymore.
It doesn't surprise me
why you do not understand
why I do not speak to you,
though it does astonish me
that you find my silence odd.
Perhaps, you mistake the noise that emanates from you
for my voice.
Perhaps it's because you're so busy communicating
that you never listen.
What ever the cause for your lack of comprehension,
one thing remains clear.
What you have to say simply does not matter to me,
anymore.
Nothing does.
There is a lake beneath the mountain
Where sightless, soundless creatures swim.
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It's a Logical World, Any Day Now
A chap sees a lot of oversimplification on Men’s Activism sites regarding who are smarter, men or women, and the issue of the primacy of emotion or logic as the better way of conducting one’s self.
Usually it is along the lines of, “women can’t think like a man, they are too emotional, whereas men are logical.” Indeed I have even heard people say that women ‘should’ think logically like men do, but just can’t. Some chaps get quite emotional about it.
Whilst it may be a 'truism' that some women may have a tendency toward being somewhat more 'emotional' than men, as well as taking into consideration many extraneous issues that, to a man, have nothing to do with the issue at hand; and some men tend toward being more 'logical' and focused than women; the overlap in the usage of both of these 'tools' of humanity are such that not only are they rarely seen one without the other but in most instances a judgment cannot possibly be made without the contribution of both, and particularly emotion. Often logic can assist in reaching a more appropriate judgment.
During our evolution, emotion came first. Logic much later. Indeed, many men and women still don’t have the slightest notion of what logic is, and emotions remain rulers of the roost. Many, me included, may see this as an informal proof that logic is a recent and higher order mental skill.
Emotion is a visceral response to an environmental stimulus, whether that is an external or an internal stimulus. It is autonomic. That is we have no control over it's arising as it is a built-in response. Emotion arises as a first step, unconscious and unsought. Part of the follow-on response is awareness of its arising and an internal assessment of what our autonomic response is actually doing to us, physiologically. We 'feel' something. We then, cognitively, give a name to that feeling - anger, disgust, fear, in the case of threats, and like-wise we give names to the positive feelings. So far, logic has nothing to do with it. We react.
“Huh!”, I can hear the Men’s Movement readers saying. “Taking the women’s side, eh. Running dog, feminist lackey! Has Amfortas gone nuts?”
Bear with me a little. You may even find the roots of Feminism here.
We then think about what we would best do in the specific circumstance and start to make a reasoned assessment, gathering the facts surrounding the environmental initiator, which may be an internal 'thought', and assessing those facts against a logical template. This template is not simply built into humans but learned. Some learn better and more than others. What appears 'logical' to one is far from what appears logical to another. Anyone who has actually studied logical truth tables quickly becomes aware of the difference between what logic is and what is personal preference or even bias!
In making any judgment we must as a matter of course give any outcome a value. This value is rarely a matter of logic or fact but of feeling - back to the emotion again. A sort of ‘how much do I like this’ or, 'what's in it for us' as a sentient being. We take our knowledge and understanding of the facts of the issue (cognition) and combine these with how we feel about it (emotion) in making a judgment.
“See!” more will say, “he really has been taken in by the ‘women are superior’ line!
Bear with me a bit longer. It gets worse.
Sometimes the 'facts' are pretty well unnecessary at all. The emotion however is necessary. Without the necessity of the emotional response we have no drive toward cognitive assessment. The emotion can also be sufficient. Indeed, the subsequent cognitions might actually hamper action with disastrous result.
It has always been thus.
For example. Look back to our long past yesterdays. Back in the cave days.
A non-ancestor of ours was walking through a jungle one day and he did not see a sabre-toothed tiger. It was a well known threat in the area, having killed scores of cave-men. Due to his not picking up this environmental stimulus, he had no emotional response. The tiger waylaid him and ate him. As usual.
Another guy who was also not our ancestor saw the tyger and whist quite afraid called upon his courage and developing thinking skills and looked carefully for facts to assess. He gauged the size of the tiger, holding up his thumb and doing a rapid estimation. A real big bugger, this one. And he also noted that it was the more ferocious male of its species. He wondered whether the tyger was hungry.
He was pondering this when the tiger jumped upon him. And ate him.
A third guy saw the tyger and ran like the fury in the opposite direction, not thinking and caring not a whit about the tiger's breakfast schedule or sex or size or higher math measurement. In fact he had a sudden and pressing urge to go to the toilet-cave.
He was our ancestor.
It took him a while, sitting on the toilet rock, mulling over just how he could increase his speed if ever caught short again, to invent the wheel. And he liked it.
“Ahha!”, I can hear the women amongst us cry out, getting het up, even as I defend emotion over logic. “That’s all very sexist”, some of them might say. “Look at you, talking about men all the time. Attributing invention just to men and excusing their toilet habits. What if had been women walking in the jungle? Huh. Go on ! How would she have dealt with it? Where’s the woman’s view ? Things would have been very different”.
OK. Let a woman’s voice be heard.
An non-ancestor of ours was walking through a jungle one day and she did not see a sabre-toothed tiger. It was a well known threat in the area, having killed scores of careless, thoughtless cave-men over the previous year or three, who had no one to blame but themselves, the useless dorks. But, due to her not picking up an environmental stimulus, which that man could have pointed out to her if he had any consideration at all, even though she was a caring and observant girl who enjoyed and felt more at home in the natural world, the flowers, the trees, the heady scents hanging in the air, as opposed to man-hewn caves, ugh ! She was practicing focusing diligently on working through her emotions from three days ago.
The tiger waylaid her and ate her. It made a real mess of her hair. The Beast!
Her best girlfriend, since pebble school, who was also not our ancestor, saw the tiger and whilst quite afraid and almost in tears at the sight of the beast eating her friend, - indeed her eyes did fill and the sight of her poor distressed state would have tugged at the heart-strings of even the most hard-hearted Family cave Judge - called upon her developing cognitive resources and her quite advanced education for the day - ever since all that brouhaha about more educational choices for cave-girls - and looked carefully for facts to assess.
She gauged the size of the tiger, holding up her thumb and her forefinger, moving them this way and that, as her favourite teacher had demonstrated to her after class one day in a close and private, one-to-one tuition period in a secluded corner of the school-cave where the Women's Resources Centre was later to be inaugurated. She always felt safe there. Special.
Anyway. Using her special female awareness and intuition, of which cave-guys were notoriously deficient - she’d been told and there was no reason she could see to disbelieve it - she did some rapid calculations, the way the ‘women's perspective’ math’s tutor had taught her, and noted immediately that it had a penis. Clever girl.
It was not an erect penis, she observed to herself with some wistfulness, turning the words over in her mind and even letting her tongue linger, forming the words, silently, - ‘penis, penis’ - automatically developing her communication skills. But she was afraid nonetheless of the likelihood of being sexually harassed, even abused by the tyger - she was after all a very pretty cave-girl and knew that others were jealous of her long eyelashes and firm womanly curves and her long shiny hair, and why should tigers be any different - as she knew it was the more ferocious male of its species.
She quite admired his rippling flanks actually.
'Cute butt' she thought, then cast it from her mind with a shake of her ringlets.
She wondered whether the tyger had had breakfast and whether it preferred whole-grains or proteins. A good start to the day stops skin problems. She was pondering this when the tiger jumped upon her.
And had his wicked way with her.
A third girl saw the tiger and ran like a banshee in the opposite direction, screaming at the top of her pretty lungs and trying hard to get the right tonal quality as befitted her fantasy of a scared cave-girl, and, accidentally scaring the tiger so much that it promptly evacuated itself and left the evidence behind, making a disgusting mess on the forest floor which, incidentally, was much later excavated –oddly, a few metres away - and they didn’t even have metres in those days - as a fossil, she caring not a whit about the tiger's breakfast schedule or gender or state of arousal.
It did cross her mind as she ran that the tyger hadn’t flossed his teeth since chewing on the other two ‘victims’. But she definitely didn’t consider the higher math lessons from the school–cave, that she had ignored anyway because of that hunky guy from the cave down the hill.
Later, she told him all about her fright and he was very consoling. The less said about that the better, pervert !
She was our ancestor-mother.
After a good rogering session which left her quite out of breath and with a warm feeling ‘down there’ where she NEVER looked, honestly, she sent him off with a broom to clear up the tiger-mess and the body-remains, as it was men's work.
Her new boyfriend took a few months to invent the wheel. And he liked it. He never went to the toilet at all.
So, you see, logic and reason picked off a lot of potential back in those days. It was a bit of a liability. Emotion kept you alive!
“That's it”, you ask? “Logic and reason are no good? How did they ever develop then?”
Well, guess what happened next. The old story I am sad to relate.
The -x-girlfriend of the consoling lad was really peeved. Everyone was talking about the third girl for months, how lucky she was and how her woman’s skills had saved her, how her cries had not only alerted the tribe but initiated the whole idea of a choir-club, and commenting on what a lovely couple she and the lad were. She - the x - they hadn't invented ‘e’ in those days - organised a plot to rubbish him.
She recalled the time when he used to whack her across the head and give her a lovely rogering in his cave. He'd promised to love her ‘til the next hunt and now just look. Whacking that squeaky-voiced bitch every night, instead of her. Brute!
She wasn’t going to take it lying down – not that she was getting the opportunity much any more. No, she was going to take a stand. She got a few girlfriends together and they painted signs on skins and along with lots of other women they marched on the Chief's cave.
They wanted a thorough investigation into the deaths of the two girls, they said. Huh! TWO girls ! This year ! It was an epidemic of male tiger violence, they said.
The Chief and his brother were in charge of the cave-site, Patriarchy Hills. It was a new development that had set them back a shell or two, I can tell you, and they were hanging onto the cave-guys’ rent-slates. The -x set up a ‘tryst’ with the Chief’s brother, who was the younger of the two and had the longer loin-skin. So he was now secretly having it off with the -x. Just once a week in the traveler-cave on the next hill. He and the Chief caved in to the women’s demands and set up a Board of Enquiry, funded by extra rent shells. (They even invented a capital E just for the occasion).
The full circumstances were discussed, all the relevant issues raised and almost all the relevant evidence presented (they couldn't find the tiger-turd), including:
· the poor quality, male-oriented education for girls:
· the propensity for sabre-toothed tygers to be ferocious;
· the EQUAL ferociousness of some of the cave- MEN who COULD have put a stop to cave-girl eating but DIDN'T !!";
· the clear FACT that men have penises just like male tygers do; and
· in passing it was revealed that the third cave-girl’s new lad spent much of his day by himself chipping stones !
The little bastard!! The women demanded that the lad be punished for not having speared the tyger and so saved the first two girls.
That spears had yet to be invented was glossed over and when it did get an airing near the end of the last day of the Enquiry, it was 'suggested' that his time "SHOULD have been better spent and he COULD have invented the spear instead".
In his pathetic attempt at a defence and despite the women’s counsel’s strong objections, he produced a prototype wheel to show it was not just a ‘boy's-toy’ as the women called it. He demanded an opportunity to show it's usefulness. It was determined by the Chief's brother - at the urging of his girlfriend that evening as she 'lay' with him - that the lad should go and kill the tiger with it.
Have you tried throwing a 150lb rock wheel at a pissed-off tyger? Go down to the zoo and give it a go, THEN come back here to whine that it's difficult. The lad clearly "didn't try hard enough”.
He didn’t come back. Proof, if ever it was needed, that he was a ‘Dead-Beat’. Well, dead anyway.
The outcome was a victory for the women and the Board of Enquiry was forced to issue a rock-note saying it was all the lad's fault and that all men were useless 'cause they had penises too.
Without a father now for her unborn cave-child, the first single-mother-of-us-all came about. A Women’s Resources Centre and a new Single Mother’s Collection Officer position were set up with a new wheel tax to fund them. A Dead-Beat Dad task force was set up too, just for the chaps.
And logic? It took a long, long while, and an uncountable number of guys sitting in the toilet-cave for logic to be invented.
Thank God for men. They got the plumbing on, early.
And by the Lord Harry, did we ever need that with all the shit we’ve had to put up with!
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Wanna Know A Secret ?
The fastest selling ‘book’ in the world is a CD, apparently, $40 million dollars ‘worth’ of this book/CD have been sold in a matter of a few weeks. It is so successful that it is predicted to outsell the whole of history’s sales of the Bible and the full works of Shakespeare combined in the next 6 months.
It won’t even need the massive TV and newspaper promotion to ‘make it so’ although there is plenty of that as back-up.
What is this fabulous book/CD?
“The Secret”
It is about …. The Secret. Well, of course. Obviously I didn’t know what it was before – and you neither – or it wouldn’t have been a secret. But it seems lots of other people did as a CD was made with all sorts of very wealthy (so they all said) people telling the secret. They all knew all about it. Of course. A woman in Australia is howling like a banshee because she didn’t make the CD. But at least she wrote a book. I don’t know what the book was called when she wrote it a few years ago. At least that bit is a secret. From me at least. But another woman, also in Australia, made the CD which said pretty well what was in the book. She and a few mates. And this woman, the first one, is as mad as all hell. The CD woman is making all the money it seems and she, the woman who wrote the book, isn’t. Ain’t life a bitch.
Well, not according to The Secret. You see The Secret is out that to have anything you want, all you have to do is follow three simple rules and everything you want can be yours. World Peace would be an unlikely want for most buyers of the CD; cats and dogs sleeping together (in the Biblical sense) hasn’t been reported on the TV, so I guess that hasn’t been wanted yet; peace, harmony and appreciation of men by women and women by men, which you would think everyone would want, hasn’t exactly broken out like a rash either, so I guess that hasn’t been asked for.
Why not, you might well ask?
I will come to that later. First, let me save you the expense of buying the CD (or the book, even though that has been remaindered at $0.95c). I will divulge the three simple rules.
They are so simple that even a simpleton can manage them.
#1. Think about what you want. Anything at all. Car; house; bucket of french fries. Anything. A fortune. Riches vastly beyond your tiny, limited imagination. (Well, you can’t have those, because you have to imagine them as part of Rule #1). Fit into a size 0 dress. Turn your rivals into frogs. Anything at all.
#2. Visualise the goody in question. I mean, really, REALLY visualise it Hard. As long as you can. See yourself with it, and you owning/having/enjoying/flaunting it. An hour if you can concentrate that long. OK, take a five minute break. Now draw it. Make pretty pictures of it, with you; in your hands. You sitting in it (if it has seats). You wallowing in it. Rolling in it. Keep it up for a day or two. (Take five minute breaks, especially when you are doing all this concentrating and doodling at work). Visualise the Universe smiling on you. Do this at night, in bed; keep the desire going. ‘See’ the Universe giving it to you. ‘See’ the vastness of the Universe reaching down to YOU and giving this whatever to you, personally, lovingly and or generously.
#3. Accept it. Be gracious and thankful. Take it. Its yours. You deserve it.
That’s it. That’s all it takes. This Secret has been hidden since time immemorial, but now YOU know it.
Apparently it works a treat. It worked for the CD woman. She wanted the book- woman’s goodies. She visualised it. She drew it. Golly, she even made a friggin’ CD of it. And look what happened.
She got it!
The Universe ensured lots and lots of people shelled out lots and lots of money to buy the CD which put a huge fortune in her hands. The book-woman’s fortune, but she didn’t visualise as well as the second woman. Or maybe her drawings weren’t as good.
500,000 CDs have been sold in Australia alone. I am not sure of the numbers for the rest of the world. But so far $40 mill line her handbag.
So, with all these CD buyers wanting and visualising and drawing their little hearts out, why, you may remind yourself to ask, about all the peace, harmony and appreciation of men by women and women by men? Where is it. How come no one has asked for it?
This is not a trick question. Its an easy one. Who do you think has bought the CD? Is buying them like hotcakes?
There would not be an adult, normal MAN alive who would shell out on such crap. Only women have bought it. Only WOMEN are so thick, so narcissistic that they think they are ENTITLED to have anything they simply want, without having to do anything but daydream about it. And sure as Hell is an unsafe place for polythene dogs, women haven’t the slightest desire for peace, harmony and appreciation of men - and half a wish won’t work.
Forget world peace as well.
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