“Just like all Yankee women, all you are good at is ordering in restaurants and spending a man’s money!” — Kung fu master Pai Mei to Uma Thurman in “Kill Bill Pt. II”
Every woman to whom I’ve ever spoken has nothing but praise, awe and jealousy for Uma Thurman’s portrayal of her wrathful martial arts angel of death depicted in Quentin Tarantino’s ultra-violent “Kill Bill” movies.
Ms. Thurman spends the better part of her screen time eviscerating a regiment of errant man flesh in her coruscating incarnation of feminist “empowerment.” Let’s forget the inconvenient truth, however, that all of her martial training was first imparted to her by, hellooo, a MAN. Let’s also forget that the predominantly male stunt cast are all handsomely paid to “die” under Ms Thurman’s martial ministrations so she looks good for the camera.
It’s rumored that Brad Pitt will be starring in a reverse gender rendering called “Kill Jill” where he beats the living crap out of the entire corps of CodePink with a pair of radioactive Birkenstocks and then has monkey sex with all of their hot pretty girlfriends ... all two of them. Hollywood man-gina George Clooney is signed to play the role of “Jill.”
Radical progressive feminism celebrates and encourages denigration and violence upon men while abrogating its pusillanimous fiction of personal responsibility vis-a-vis domestic violence upon the self-aggrandizing notions of special interest “equality.” A 1991 episode of the femi-fascist “Oprah Winfrey Show” featured a segment called the “PMS Men’s Support Group” where four men described in horrid detail how their wives struck one in the spine with a pole or smacked them in the head or neck with a cast iron skillet all to the delightful howls of laughter elicited from all the menopausal flapbags that were seated in the studio audience.
A disturbing 1997 survey of 1,000 female students at CSU Long Beach revealed that the number one reason these feminists cited as justification for assaulting their boy toys was “my partner wasn’t sensitive to my needs.” Feminists obviously don’t want a “partner” inasmuch as a clairvoyant punching bag who pays the bills.
In a 2000 Centers for Disease Control [CDC] report on domestic violence, there were approximately 1.5 million women physically assaulted by a male intimate partner. To quote comedian and Obama supporter, Chris Rock, “ I don’t agree with it ... but I understand it.” Yup, Chris, some women just never seem to know when to shut up. According to that same 2000 CDC report, however, more than 835,000 men were assaulted by their “better half.”
The CDC report also reflected that female-on-male assaults were under-reported as a man was less likely to report an assault for the obvious ridicule that would ensue from admitting that he, as the victim, had taken a beating from a girl.
I was assaulted on three separate occasions by two different intimate partners over a period of four years. Both wags were allegedly enlightened, self-professed Democrat feminists. I’ve since stopped dating Democrats. Like the warning label on a pack of cigarettes, they just kill you slowly over time.
These women obviously had some unresolved anger/daddy/bad hair/ issues. Rhetorically speaking, though, what asinine idiocy possesses a 125 pound feminist to attempt to clobber a 220 pound man? This activity is akin to tying a warm pork chop around ones neck and playing with a hungry polar bear.
Last Saturday, there was some street walker from Amnesty International on Main Street asking “Would you like to take a minute to discuss women’s rights?” I asked this gelded Euro-male if he had ever been divorced in the state of California. He replied in the negative. I retorted that he didn’t know jack squat about “women’s rights” under the current divorce laws and how they apply to men in this state. I’ve “been there, done that” and still have the space alien anal probe to prove it even though I did get a coupon for 20 percent off of a Brazilian hot wax!
If a feminist needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle, is it an inconvenient truth to point out that since fish don’t have pockets for their money then therefore feminists shouldn’t require an entitlement called spousal support? I thought you wenches out there were all grown up like big people, right?
If I had to choose between a California divorce court and being tortured at a Bush-era CIA black site in Romania then please book me and my water board on the next flight to Bucharest. At least I can get regular sex in prison. Sex with a feminist is like looking for Sasquatch. There’s a lot of talk about it but there’s not a lot of evidence to back it up.
And then the CDC wonders why men are 80 percent of the suicides in this country. Well, I guess a man’s got to be good at something according to feminism.
Steve Breen is happily married to the prettiest gal in the whole wide world. He is still the “best looking mailman in the U.S. Post Office.” He can be reached at dulcamarax@yahoo.com.
