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GOODNIGHT LADIES


Judith and Holofernes, Caravaggio





[An] example of Artaud’s work is The Fountain of Blood, a farce about the creation of the world and its destruction by humans, especially women.


From The Poetry Foundation’s biography of Antonin Artaud




It was the women.


Nietzsche, private correspondence




Women. You can’t live with ‘em and you can’t kill ‘em.


Mad Dog and Glory





One of the most powerful forces of disruption the malevolent (mis)shapers of the modern world have put into effect to prevent and stand in the way of the growth of a healthy organic civilisation is increasingly to make white men and white women hate one another. Or, rather, to encourage women to hate men, thereby causing men to reciprocate.


The various waves of feminism, becoming more incoherent and violent as time goes on, share the aim of alienating men and promoting a vague idea of the feminine as some kind of great replacement. The violence has, it must be said, largely been internalised. We do not now see a Valerie Solanas, of SCUM (The Society for Cutting Up Men) shooting some modern equivalent of Andy Warhol. But we do see the legal systems of Western countries, for example, stacked and biased so as to deprive men of their homes and children on the say-so of vindictive women, and men are constantly reminded, like the blaring of megaphones 24/7/365, of something called the patriarchy.


Now, however, the Ouroboros Principle mentioned yesterday is coming into play, as turf wars – and even TERF wars – begin to rage across the battlefields of the XX chromosomatic arrangement, and the beast begins to devour itself.


This Sunday is International Women’s Day, although not at Leicester University, where it will be celebrated – these dour bastards at modern universities do a lot of celebrating – as International Womxn’s day. Fantastic. A name day you can’t pronounce, a celebration in Klingon. Women’s Officer at Leicester ‘uni’, a dude called Dan Orr who thinks he’s a woman, says this;


‘We use the term “womxn” as a more inclusive spelling that identifies anyone who identifies as a womxn’.


To use that evergreen line from Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men; ‘Do you have any idea how crazy you are?’ But we’re just starting, Jack.


Women are so last year, Daddio. Hadn’t you heard? A talk by Maisie Hill, an American author, at Edinburgh Science Festival, was billed as being for ‘humans with uteruses’, which is not the Goth/Indie band you might have thought it.


Amber Rudd was ‘no-platformed’ – another Leftist weasel word – last night by Oxford ‘students’ who did not want her to speak about getting more women into politics. She was to have received a fee which she had pledged to a women’s organisation.


Sefton Council, in Merseyside, hoisted a flag – there’s a flag for everything except White men now, darling. Men should co-opt the Jolly Roger – to celebrate International Women’s Day. Whoops. An LGBT activist called Adrian Harrop, who is a sodding GP, complained, calling the flag (which read, ‘Woman; noun, adult female’) ‘a hostile transphobic dog-whistle’. Down it came, with the usual grovelling apologies to the new masters, mistresses, mxstrxssxs. Whatever.


So, it might look as though women are being sidelined as the Left find a new disruptive toy in transgender loonies, just like gays have been thrown under the bus – well, it’s better than being thrown off the Tehran Hilton – now that Islam is in favor. But worry not! Don’t forget, gals, you can play a useful part in the world’s great democracies even if you don’t get to be premier all that much. Why, big goofy sex ‘n’ sax Bill ‘you might wanna put some ice on that’ Clinton has just explained to a waiting world that he had his sordid, tawdry affair with horse-faced Monica Lewinsky not because he is a horny pig married to a diesel dyke, but ‘to manage anxiety’. So, that’s alright then.


While we are good and warmed up, let’s spare a thought for the foetal harvest enlightened wimmin have been caught on camera in recent months celebrating. Yep, more celebrating, this time for a slush of cells that would have been people, almost certainly better people than skanks like Busy Phillips – that’s its real name – an unheard-of actress screaming that she will ‘never stop talking about my abortion’. Oh, and how it enabled her to get a mansion and a hybrid car in any color but white.


So, here’s a thought for International Women’s Day. Fuck off. Come back when you get interested in joining in with civilisation again instead of showing off. It’s not a question of get back in the kitchen, it’s a question of get your heads out of your collective arses. You’re an embarrassment. And you are obscuring the biggest victims of all; ordinary women. That’s right, ordinary women like the woman those Australian news channel shitheels ridiculed for making her children’s lunches before she went to bed, for getting up early to get washing on and to make her husband’s breakfast so that he could go out to work to provide for the family he loves. Those women. The ones who don’t care about womxn, who don’t care about the patriarchy, or some mythic oppression, or trans toilets, or menstruating men, or the gender gap or the pay gap or spoiling athletics for women and girls who have spent their lives trying to compete against other women and girls only to be told they have to compete, to power-lift, against burly men. Those women who just want to raise their children right – and how fucking difficult are you making that? – love their husbands, and stay away from the grotesque carnival the weirdoes and the freaks and the lesbians and the nags and scolds and all the others who should be on the village pond ducking-school have created.


In the end, it wasn’t them men that ruined love, and sex, and partnership. It was the women. It was the women.

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