Funniest Fuckin Parody Of The "public Sex Discourse"

funniest fuckin parody of the "public sex discourse"

Another interesting comment thread on this post:

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I really like how HMS expounds on her original point. I feel like this is true for the type she discusses. Although I don't agree that it represents "all men" and no women.

I’m starting to think that many males use the word “dysphoria” when what they are feeling is “guilt”

Literally when you see males who want to be seen as female complain about how everyday female behaviors make them dysphoric (talk of periods, childbirth, existing, having natural breasts, wanting female doctors, feeling uncomfortable alone with strange males, lesbians not wanting to engage with males) and replace the word dysphoria with guilt and the word dysphoric with guilty.

“It makes me feel guilty when you talk about how you don’t want to have sex with penises”

“My guilt acts up when I see cis women who don’t see me as a woman”

“Please don’t talk about your period because it makes me feel guilty”

After sitting in therapy sessions where men cry about how hard it is on them to beat their wives, I think it is a similar emotion a lot of the time. Men often react to feeling guilt by doubling down (“actually you deserved it”), gaslighting (“I didn’t hurt you so I shouldn’t have to feel this way”), or repeating the abusive behavior (“I am not analyzing my guilt, but I know you made me feel bad and therefore you deserve bad treatment”).

This is not to say that trans-identified males are different or worse or more violent than other men, necessarily. Just that they are exactly the same.

I remember one guy who tried to push this idea online. Here's what he looked like:

He was later outed as a predator by a transgender woman who was 10 years younger than him. She accused him of manipulating her into a relationship, forcing her to move in with him, coercing her to have sex with him.

I'm literally never going to respect his pronouns because it seems so obvious to me that he was doing this shit to get a "political pass". If you read his fucking manifestos, you'll get a sense of how he thinks: "Men are morally corrupt; women are the victims of this, which turns women into a latent revolutionary force. I'd rather 'identify with womanhood' than to be one of the men overthrown in the uprising."

Hahaha... haha... ha.

I still think about it 10 years later because this guy's influence was insane in some sections of tumblr, a decade ago... and he posted some really deep cuts into his own "transgender" psychology. How much did he come up with lies? Good question, so keep that in mind.

It's really interesting how open he was, before the callout post:

(I would guess he means for sexual reasons, maybe even predatory reasons.)

I find this really interesting, because he could have been a real trailblazer. He has the choice of who he dates and how he can act. Being a straight woman doesn't conscript one to slave away in a patriarchal relationship. You have to choose an individual person who could treat you right. You're only one person and you only need one person as a lover. You don't necessarily need the whole world to be perfect, to be happy or find love. Sure, shit can really fucking suck but we each can change it ourselves. We don't need to fucking cut off our dicks about it.

Keep in mind, he had a cisgender wife when he published this shit.

but you sound like you don't want to step up and be that "good man", as you say:

Words of a predator.

do you have an "about" page with relevant information about yourself (eg pronouns, a name you go by, etc)? only i like your blog but always feel strange about following blogs with no face so to speak

I’ve answered this before so we’re going to do this bullet points style

-If there are categories of people you don’t want to follow please assume I belong to all of them

-If you need my demographic info before you can decide if you agree with my opinion or not please disagree with my opinions

-Please assume I am up to no good - this is a good thing to assume with any blog on here - even blogs with faces may be no-faces in disguise

-All of the information you want has been posted here at one time or another if you want to know but I like having that threshold of difficulty in place - if you want to get your creep on I want you to have to work for it

-I am hoping the irony of your having sent this ask anonymously is not lost on you

And, for all bloggers everywhere, a quick reminder: you don’t owe anybody jack shit!

I was raised atheistically by my parents.

Looking out on the people around me, listening to the teacher describe massacres commited against the Native American people by the European colonisers... Seeing the looks on the faces of all these christian kids, because they thought: "Oh well, it happens. They should have given up for christ."

It's apparent to me how religion can be used as a brainwashing tool to justify slaughter, military campaigns, destroying other people's lives if they don't live how the christians think they're supposed to live. I hear news of other religious people behaving similarly, but I grew up around a lot of christian families, so that's my experience I can draw from.

How braindead can you be?

You believe whatever your parents tell you?

I mean, yeah... you're a kid.

An excerpt of chapter 5 of 1984, George Orwell.

Sometimes, too, they talked of engaging in active rebellion against the Party, but with no notion of how to take the first step. Even if the fabulous Brotherhood was a reality, there still remained the difficulty of finding one's way into it. He told her of the strange intimacy that existed, or seemed to exist, between himself and O'Brien, and of the impulse he sometimes felt, simply to walk into O'Brien's presence, announce that he was the enemy of the Party, and demand his help. Curiously enough, this did not strike her as an impossibly rash thing to do. She was used to judging people by their faces, and it seemed natural to her that Winston should believe O'Brien to be trustworthy on the strength of a single flash of the eyes. Moreover she took it for granted that everyone, or nearly everyone, secretly hated the Party and would break the rules if he thought it safe to do so. But she refused to believe that widespread, organized opposition existed or could exist. The tales about Goldstein and his underground army, she said, were simply a lot of rubbish which the Party had invented for its own purposes and which you had to pretend to believe in. Times beyond number, at Party rallies and spontaneous demonstrations, she had shouted at the top of her voice for the execution of people whose names she had never heard and in whose supposed crimes she had not the faintest belief. When public trials were happening she had taken her place in the detachments from the Youth League who surrounded the courts from morning to night, chanting at intervals 'Death to the traitors!' During the Two Minutes Hate she always excelled all others in shouting insults at Goldstein. Yet she had only the dimmest idea of who Goldstein was and what doctrines he was supposed to represent. She had grown up since the Revolution and was too young to remember the ideological battles of the fifties and sixties. Such a thing as an independent political movement was outside her imagination: and in any case the Party was invincible. It would always exist, and it would always be the same. You could only rebel against it by secret disobedience or, at most, by isolated acts of violence such as killing somebody or blowing something up.

In some ways she was far more acute than Winston, and far less susceptible to Party propaganda. Once when he happened in some connexion to mention the war against Eurasia, she startled him by saying casually that in her opinion the war was not happening. The rocket bombs which fell daily on London were probably fired by the Government of Oceania itself, 'just to keep people frightened'. This was an idea that had literally never occurred to him. She also stirred a sort of envy in him by telling him that during the Two Minutes Hate her great difficulty was to avoid bursting out laughing. But she only questioned the teachings of the Party when they in some way touched upon her own life. Often she was ready to accept the official mythology, simply because the difference between truth and falsehood did not seem important to her. She believed, for instance, having learnt it at school, that the Party had invented aeroplanes. (In his own schooldays, Winston remembered, in the late fifties, it was only the helicopter that the Party claimed to have invented; a dozen years later, when Julia was at school, it was already claiming the aeroplane; one generation more, and it would be claiming the steam engine.) And when he told her that aeroplanes had been in existence before he was born and long before the Revolution, the fact struck her as totally uninteresting. After all, what did it matter who had invented aeroplanes? It was rather more of a shock to him when he discovered from some chance remark that she did not remember that Oceania, four years ago, had been at war with Eastasia and at peace with Eurasia. It was true that she regarded the whole war as a sham: but apparently she had not even noticed that the name of the enemy had changed. 'I thought we'd always been at war with Eurasia,' she said vaguely. It frightened him a little. The invention of aeroplanes dated from long before her birth, but the switchover in the war had happened only four years ago, well after she was grown up. He argued with her about it for perhaps a quarter of an hour. In the end he succeeded in forcing her memory back until she did dimly recall that at one time Eastasia and not Eurasia had been the enemy. But the issue still struck her as unimportant. 'Who cares?' she said impatiently. 'It's always one bloody war after another, and one knows the news is all lies anyway.'

Sometimes he talked to her of the Records Department and the impudent forgeries that he committed there. Such things did not appear to horrify her. She did not feel the abyss opening beneath her feet at the thought of lies becoming truths. He told her the story of Jones, Aaronson, and Rutherford and the momentous slip of paper which he had once held between his fingers. It did not make much impression on her. At first, indeed, she failed to grasp the point of the story. 'Were they friends of yours?' she said. 'No, I never knew them. They were Inner Party members. Besides, they were far older men than I was. They belonged to the old days, before the Revolution. I barely knew them by sight.' 'Then what was there to worry about? People are being killed off all the time, aren't they?' He tried to make her understand. 'This was an exceptional case. It wasn't just a question of somebody being killed. Do you realize that the past, starting from yesterday, has been actually abolished? If it survives anywhere, it's in a few solid objects with no words attached to them, like that lump of glass there. Already we know almost literally nothing about the Revolution and the years before the Revolution. Every record has been destroyed or falsified, every book has been rewritten, every picture has been repainted, every statue and street and building has been renamed, every date has been altered. And that process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. History has stopped. Nothing exists except an endless present in which the Party is always right. I know, of course, that the past is falsified, but it would never be possible for me to prove it, even when I did the falsification myself. After the thing is done, no evidence ever remains. The only evidence is inside my own mind, and I don't know with any certainty that any other human being shares my memories. Just in that one instance, in my whole life, I did possess actual concrete evidence after the event--years after it.' 'And what good was that?' 'It was no good, because I threw it away a few minutes later. But if the same thing happened today, I should keep it.' 'Well, I wouldn't!' said Julia. 'I'm quite ready to take risks, but only for something worth while, not for bits of old newspaper. What could you have done with it even if you had kept it?' 'Not much, perhaps. But it was evidence. It might have planted a few doubts here and there, supposing that I'd dared to show it to anybody. I don't imagine that we can alter anything in our own lifetime. But one can imagine little knots of resistance springing up here and there--small groups of people banding themselves together, and gradually growing, and even leaving a few records behind, so that the next generations can carry on where we leave off.' 'I'm not interested in the next generation, dear. I'm interested in US.' 'You're only a rebel from the waist downwards,' he told her. She thought this brilliantly witty and flung her arms round him in delight.

In the ramifications of party doctrine she had not the faintest interest. Whenever he began to talk of the principles of Ingsoc, doublethink, the mutability of the past, and the denial of objective reality, and to use Newspeak words, she became bored and confused and said that she never paid any attention to that kind of thing. One knew that it was all rubbish, so why let oneself be worried by it? She knew when to cheer and when to boo, and that was all one needed. If he persisted in talking of such subjects, she had a disconcerting habit of falling asleep. She was one of those people who can go to sleep at any hour and in any position. Talking to her, he realized how easy it was to present an appearance of orthodoxy while having no grasp whatever of what orthodoxy meant. In a way, the world-view of the Party imposed itself most successfully on people incapable of understanding it. They could be made to accept the most flagrant violations of reality, because they never fully grasped the enormity of what was demanded of them, and were not sufficiently interested in public events to notice what was happening. By lack of understanding they remained sane. They simply swallowed everything, and what they swallowed did them no harm, because it left no residue behind, just as a grain of corn will pass undigested through the body of a bird.

You have every right to understand that men are dangerous to you, even if they belong to a marginalized group, or wear women's clothes.

Caution with men, avoiding giving them opportunities to harm you, is common sense, and you don't have to be a paranoid pearl-clutcher to be safe. Most men don't actively want to harm you.

Predatory men will test your instincts for self-preservation, because they know 'good, liberal' women will allow their boundaries to thin in order to show lack of fear or prejudice. They do it on purpose, to size you up.

If a man tests your boundaries, getting too close, saying inappropriate things, shaming you for not laughing it off, that's testing you, and you don't give them the benefit of the doubt, or educate them about it. You can count on it that you can't trust them. It's okay, it doesn't hurt them. They survive.