Taking the male out of female

So, yes I have been the Masochistic Bush to Germaine’s Bin Laden. I have made false prophecy, incited misunderstanding at best and derided a political campaign spanning decades of oppression. I have become a tabloid reader, the scourge of an independent thinking society and I have to find out why. The topic is women and more fundamentally their value in society.

I know women have less rights, I know women have unequal pay scales, YES! I know women are misrepresented politically and socially but what I don’t understand is why I can’t comprehend the issues. Why am I reluctant to say ‘Yes, that’s shit!’ Why, when posed with a hypothetical situation of masculine power play in the face of feminine submission do I ultimately defend masculinity?

My answer (and this might mark my place on top of many lone male assassins lists) is that just like British culture, males are just a little bit shit. How many males have had a party, desperately wishing for a bevy of buxom beauties to turn up (doesn’t this sentence alone say volumes) alone to faced with a blockade of balls, a multitude of man meat or a copious crowd of cock. Females at this age have ultimate power, they are the true embodiment of Mother Nature, beautiful and powerful yet unforgiving, and boys will do anything to behold them even for the briefest moment of time. I think we are forced to resent, or fear female clout from day one.

Eventually age ravishes us all, liver spots dance on our faces like fairies at a rave and grey hairs multiply like rabbits at a party at the Playboy mansion. Men eventually seek and gain power (from other men) and eventually, like Julius Ceaser we ‘Cry Havoc and let slip the dogs of war’, avenging our prepubescent rejection from the womanly world and asserting our place as the prince of prick.

So what do men have to offer? Our main attributes derive from the Neanderthal values of the past. Men are competitive, dominant and unforgiving, qualities that are cohesive with modern capitalism. Women are understanding, communicative and foster understanding, qualities that business disparage and professions such as teaching, nursing and human resources exalt. I ask you, what professions actually aid the modern world and what professions leech its soul?

So why do I ask this question? Why do I instinctively jump to the male defensive standpoint? Why do I feel like a serial killer in court with an escaped harrowed victim giving testimony? It’s because half the population are right, we rule with an iron fist only allowing women who imitate men to taste power or the amount of power the old boy network will allow them to briefly savour. We allow the male imitating women into the fold, tick the boxes, congratulate ourselves at being inclusive then stare at their breasts when they’re not looking.

But fear not! The female future is bright. Men cannot put shelves up, we cannot check the oil in the car, hell we don’t even know what a clitoris is, we think it’s a new type of car with 5 wheels and a GPS unit that impersonates Busta Rhymes. We are dolts, idiots, morons and simpletons. Point us in the direction of a hammer and we want to hit anything flat with a pointy end, point us in the direction of a whisk and we think it’s a masturbatory aid. The media acknowledges it, they represent the modern man as a bumbling fool who plumbs the toilet into the hosepipe and then guffaws as he cleans his BMW with a shit shower.

The time for female superiority is upon us, but mankind has been forced into a corner. I haven’t learnt the skills my father tried to teach me and I wouldn’t learn the skills my mothers tried to convince me would help in a new world. I am lost, battered, bruised and confused, wanting to lash out at every feminine standpoint. I overreact, grow to be defensive and fight without reason. I know all this and still fight therefore becoming unreasonable, irrational and illogical.

The stupid thing is all I have to say is ‘Yes, I agree’ and mean it. I would love to, I really would, but sometimes saying ‘Yes’ is the hardest word.