Excess artificial human attractions to the opposite sex due to technological advances. Fragrances, fashion, grooming utensils, cosmetics, fake pectoral muscles – all proof that humans weren’t meant to be so uncontrollably attracted to each other. If it weren’t for technology, then stench from odor, overgrown body-hair (my forte), underwear made of dried cow shit patties, and uncircumcised penises would be the natural barriers preventing our attraction to the opposite sex; henceforth, doing away with unnecessary drama brought upon by relationships and marriages – because, let’s be honest, no one is going to marry a hairy, smelly, unkempt man or woman (and especially a woman. Cmon, we’re being honest here, remember?). Without technology, men and women would simply be emotionless tools of reproduction – men can watch their football, and women can gossip about….. hmmmm there’s nothing to gossip about because there’s no drama. Perfect world!
Women: I’m quite offended by the T.V. channel Bravo – the only feminine channel I know of. If I knew any others, I’d name and berate them, too. Every commercial on there explains ways to cheat or hide your ugliness: hair products, facial care lotions, powders, masks, shampoo, conditioner (god forbid you use a 2-in-1 and save some money), fake tans, tweezers – whatever ever happened to picking up a recipe book and making your man happy the old fashioned way: a good steak, some fries, and an ice cold beer. The process of looking sexy is so tedious these days. Every morning you gals have to paint a Monet on your face before leaving the house. And how about these diets that never work? By the time you realize the key to a healthy body is exercise, men won’t even care what you look like because you’ll be six feet under, happily massaged by maggots and ants. Here’s a healthy tip for ladies self conscious about their look (namely every lady): get away from the mirror and get your jiggly wigglies moving in the gym.
Men: I see you at the gym, working out like idiots. Actually, I jog in the streets and lift from home so I don’t see you in the gym. But I know you’re there, working out like idiots. And I respect that because you don’t know any better. A few people I know work out 3-4 hours at a time, then they take 4 days off due to muscle exhaustion. And they wonder why they aren’t in shape. I wish I had the nerve to tell them, “Are you a fucking moron?”, but I’m hoping their own conscience will soon. The key to a good workout is a balanced routine. But this doesn’t concern me as much as men’s abuse of the law of happiness-to-sex. Before you guess what this law is about, JUST LISTEN. In bars and parties, men pretend to act like they’re having a good time because it is attractive to women. A woman is more likely to give their attention to a man who is laughing, than a man just sipping away at his drink. So it is inevitable that the man laughing will get the first shot at the woman. I know this because my Black friend told me about this trick, or maybe he was a white Canadian, but he most certainly wasn’t Jewish or Asian. Anyway, I have no reason to fake my pleasure because I always laugh and always make people laugh, so I am offended by boring, better looking, richer men who take advantage of this trick, fake their enjoyment, and steal my women. You rich donkeys are laughing the loudest and it’s all fake. How bout you stop being so fucking boring, build a personality, and up your humor game? What are you gonna say to the girl when she comes to you and asks what was so funny? If you explained the happiness-to-sex law to her, and that you were faking a laugh, she would burst out laughing. Heck, you could even pretend to be funny for once. But you have too much pride and too little creativity within that little sac of cerebral cortex to even think of a response like that. You witless gefilta-faggots.
The Winter Miniskirt Women. Yes, I’m a man. And yes, I love women. But these girls are more desperate than a 27-year old virgin-Jew. It’s 28 degrees outside and you’re wearing less clothing than a Somalian in the summer. For crying out loud, girl, I wanna sleep with you, but by the time we get in bed your little bit will be frostbitten and if I go anywhere near that holy area, I might end up severing a vessel or something. Then you’ll end up in the hospital in need of surgery, and the doctors will ask “who did this to you?”. Suddenly you realize this is a great chance to blame me, the Jew, and you make big money from a lawsuit. Then I end up in jail for sexual assault, and as payback the warden bunks me with Sylvester Anusbuster, the notorious anus buster. But when I’m released from jail 15 years later, maybe you will find me and apologize. That will make me feel 0.0000001% better. Then, perhaps you’ll ask me out for a drink and I’ll accept. And once again, I end up in bed with you. But this time, we have real sex. However, you forget to tell me you’re on your period, and when I see blood coming out of your holy area – deja vu – I get a panic attack and die. Then you’ll be arrested for murder. But the jury’s verdict will be not-guilty because your blood – which they don’t realize was from your period – is evidence that you were acting in self defense. Then the court grants you another claim for emotional damages due to the false accusation brought upon you. All this for stupidly wearing a miniskirt in the winter. You kill me with these miniskirts, ladies. Literally.
|Is it too late to change my mind about miniskirts in the winter?|