The tiger in the alley – a story every woman should know.

Imagine if you will a dark, damp, alley in the most dangerous section of a vast and terrible city. The brick walls sweat dirty water. The stink of trash and week old food lingers in the air. It’s never really quiet there and the most terrifying sound is that of footsteps echoing behind you too late at night or too early in the morning.

You stand across from this alley for some reason or another. You are waiting for a bus, maybe a taxi or just on the street trying to get air slightly fresher than that found in your cramped apartment. And then, far down on a corner, you watch as a 900 pound Bengal tiger strolls into view and casually walks towards the mouth of that alley. Head low to the ground, muscles rippling, yellow eyes steady, it comes close to you, snorts and, thankfully, turns and disappears down into the cut between two tall buildings. It disappears into the alley directly across from you and you exhale, hard. You have been spared a terrible death.

Just as you turn to go back into the relative safety of your building, a click clack click clack sound rolls over you and you spin about to see that a young women is slowly walking up the street across from you, following in the footsteps of that Bengal tiger.

She’s a younger woman, alone and tired. She could be coming from a night shift, thoughts of a warm comfortable bed and little else circling through her mind. Maybe she was out, enjoying her youth in the company of friends. Each step takes her closer to that alley, where, you suspect, the tiger waits in the shadows, tail curling–and for some reason, you don’t yell.

You don’t yell as she comes closer, her tired head hung low and staring down at the lights reflecting off of the wet concrete.

You don’t yell as she comes within inches of that alley.

And you don’t yell as she suddenly turns towards the darkness, pointing herself down the throat of that alleyway, and you don’t yell as she disappears.

She screams and the screams continue, for a short while. Soon after, you stand on the street listening to the relative silence, the faint sound of a wild cat tearing the flesh away from its conquered prey.

Are you, if that were you, a decent person? I can’t answer that.

Are you moral and good? Again, I don’t know and I barely understand those words.

Could you have saved her? Ah yes, you could have. Very easily, you could have saved that young woman. A shout. A scream. It would have been easy.

Change this female character to a male and the same would be true. It would take nothing more than opening your mouth and employing your vocal chords to prevent the terrible and the unfortunate.

So I ask, would you scream or would you press your lips together and watch the young woman turn into the alley? Which person are you? What is the quality of your character?

If you thought about this and honestly can say that you would shout, stomp your feet and wave your hands in an attempt to warn the person turning into the alley, you are not a feminist.

I will write that again and hope that you will read it – If you are willing to warn the person of the danger in that alley, you are not a feminist.

Feminists are smart. They have managed to twist and contort our world into something sick that is perpetually under their control – but it came at the expense of men and many women. A feminist will tell you that you live within a culture that has been designed to permit and promote the rape of women, young and old. They have inundated you with this idea that all men are potential rapists. All boys are potential rapists who must be taught not to rape. Anything with a penis is a potential rapist who must be taught not to do that.

They tell women that they are never safe, and no action on their part could prevent them from harm. Devoid of accountability and responsibility, they allow women to turn into that alley. They watch, thinking of them as victims in their crusade. Ladies, gentlemen, you are nothing more than this to a feminist.

Get ready, because I’m about to wave my arms and shout, scream, stomp my feet and pass rancorous gas – Don’t go in that alley! Don’t go in that alley!!

Based upon the statistics published by Montana State University,  more than half of the men involved in committing rape were under the influence of alcohol at the time and more than half of the women that reported being raped were under the influence of alcohol at the time. More than 90% of these cases involve men and women under the age of 29.

Don’t want to be raped? Don’t want to become a rapist? Be very careful regarding your consumption of alcohol. That’s all – do that and you are more likely to be bitten by a shark in Kansas than to be raped.

There isn’t a widespread conspiracy to shuffle women into being raped. The laws have not been steamrolled into making it easy for a man to violently push a women to have sex. If you are a woman, the easiest way to protect yourself is to be careful when you consume alcohol and to abstain from drugs.

Feminists are by and large a political and philosophical group that has based their entire movement on not shouting as people turn into those dark alleys, ignorantly walking into the jaws of monsters. They tell boys they are the monsters and young women that they should walk where they wish and then stand back, silent, waiting for any calamity and even for just the thought of an impropriety. They feed from this. They exploit you. Ladies and gentlemen, feminists are ingenious parasites, suckling on the consequences of your ignorance.

Consider that, be warned and when a feminist opens his or her mouth, look for the fangs. You’ll find them. Look for the twirling tail. It’s there. Feminists are the tiger and at the same time, they are the person who says nothing as you are eaten by them.

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