2008-08-20 - 4:49 p.m.
writing, like most productively counterproductive activities, is an inherently male sport. and as anyone in their right mind knows, the more rules you add to a sport, the less enjoyable that sport becomes.
[enter worthless cunts]
...i recently joined a writers forum (more accurately referred to as the cunts-with-electronic-crayons forum) where people are encouraged to post their work for critical review. now it's a well established fact that you can't review a woman's inane thought process without her having an emotional meltdown because women equate their writing (along with their clothes, food choices, tv shows) to her self-esteem. these dumb bitches can't separate their words from their identity; if you suggest changing a comma, you may as well suggest gender reassignment. women seethe with anger over the mere possibility of being "judged".
here's the irony-- while the primary complaint out of a woman's mouth usually sounds like this:
"stop judging me!!!" (anatomical female punctuation left intact.)
writing is a sport BASED UPON, FOUNDED ON, DECIDED BY, DICTATED BY, DRIVEN BY AND UNABLE TO SURVIVE WITHOUT JUDGMENT. editing is the 4-letter word of writing; it's the dirty little secret that erects the wire-thin line between competitive writing and the vast surplus of 4 line stanza wrist-cutting poetry, detailing the social cruelty directed against 14-year-olds running low on black eyeliner.
but women, the most judgmental creatures of all, able to separate nerd from dork more authoritatively than the Lord Himself separates the chaff from the wheat, somehow view themselves as exempt from the necessary tool which fosters the very act of writing. perhaps this is why the shelves of book stores across the nation feature the judgment-free embarrassment that is the female book cover.
if you want to understand another popular sport in direct opposition to writing-- professional female narcissism-- just take a cursory look at the shelves of contemporary literature at any Barnes & Noble. what do you see.... the same thing you see when aging women don stonewash jean jackets, big Texas hair and start abusing Myspace with all sorts of fat-friendly angles-- a crapload of glamor shots: legs, backs, knees, knees touching, knees touching hands, legs and hands, hair down across shoulders, etc.
female literature is driven by the glamor shot. it's fueled by the look-at-me-watch-me-daddy feminization of writing; competence is sooooo not cool anymore.
remember back when publishing indicated that a writer could actually keep someone's attention, other than their own, for more than 2 mins. and more importantly, nobody hated him when that 2 mins. was up. you can kiss those days goodbye along with 95% of the testicles supposedly (read: MYTHICALLY) hanging between the average American male's legs.
today's writer is long on manners and short on content. today's relativist cock holster is the future of this helmet-ridden, training wheel-toting excuse for a male sport.
i read one woman's bio touting her "published" works, writing awards, foundations and accomplishments. then i read her work. fuck me if dr. seuss hadn't shot a DNA rough draft all over butterfly and sunflower stationery. i've heard of less cliched themes in porn movies. let's face it, if "whisper", "black", "happy", "anger", "passion", "soul", "strength", "wind", "tears", "sunlight" and "rain" represent the gamut of your go-to idioms, you can just count yourself right out of the first round of the slam dunk competition. don't even bother to show up. get the fuck out of the building. now.
but being the relatively good writing samaritan that i am, i decided a decent writer would benefit from any valid critique i had to offer.
the writing forum decided otherwise-- my account was banned. no reprimand. no discussion. no explanation (none really needed; female feelings = baby jesus. we got it. thanks.)
... you know when you get banned from some website and they give you that generic bullshit about "violating terms of service." they should just change that to:
section 234.34a blah blah blah please do not promote any criminal activity or enterprise or provide instructional information about illegal activities including, but not limited to making or buying illegal weapons, violating someone's privacy, or providing or creating computer viruses, or most important of all, violating the core, perpetual motion inconsistencies of intellectual bubblegum. i.e. you made another dumb bitch cry. i hope you're proud of yourself. oh, and you're never getting laid. cuz i will soooo tell everyone i know. and they will soooo tell all the friends they know on Myspace, and it will be like Friday the 13th on your social life, pal!!! almost forgot, your penis is so small i need tweezers and a magnifying glass to find it!! LOL (anatomical female punctuation left intact to keep your nuts from growing.)]
and there you have it, female freedom in a nutshell. it's important to note that female freedom is not founded upon any logical or common sense principle. its roots are buried deep in a special soil, a little more fertilizer-rich than most garden variety stenches-- it's called "SHIT", as in, "hey you. yeah you. shit-for-brains. fetch me another cup of coffee. and while you're at it, fetch yourself another cup of shut-your-cunt."
i don't want to imply that females don't value freedom of speech. but i do want to imply that most women view the concept of freedom of speech the way Paris Hilton views teacup chiuauas: fun for a few days but eventually a big fucking hassle that needs to be taken to the pound and put to sleep.
i know, i know, being able to speak your mind sounds like fun on paper. but real thoughts hurt. and hurty words are mean. or not cool. aka not "nice."
look bitch, stuffing wings into a box of panty shields does not mean you're 'free'. it just means you like feeling smart without the burden of being smart.
what's a man to do in this vaginal orifice of post-apocalyptic Judy Blume pamphlets and designer Gucci blogs (minus the cool cars and gunslinging mutants.)
