Dear Conscious Men

You are no longer men. I don’t mean that in the sense that you lack the bulging muscles and caveman qualities so often claimed as cartoonishly masculine by feminists, simply that you are – to all outward appearances – lacking the will, the volition and the cognitive function to be be seriously considered sentient adult human beings.

You are a collection of limp, broken zombies. You are everything feminists have demanded men become, taken to a logical conclusion, and the result is pathetic, unappealing and unintentionally comic. Whether your weak, pathetic self abasement is sincere or affected in pursuit of feminist praise, we – the unreconstructed neanderthals of the world; thank you. Your purpose may be that of a shipwreck, which serves to warn other vessels of dangerous rocks.

As a man, I should clarify that although I find your limp lap-dog version of consciousness repulsive,  you are also repellent to women. Radical feminist propaganda to the contrary, women do not tingle for inert, self-abasing mendicants of the kind you appear to be. No matter how motivated to seek approval was your grotesque self loathing and flagellation.

Your deference to feminine emotion – held by you in esteem higher than reason – signals your abdication of adulthood, enlightenment, and sentience. By your craven, crawling, apology for the masculinity of men who came before you, be assured you speak only for yourselves – assuming a hand doesn’t occupy your back chute like that of a puppeteer, and the words dribbling from your slack jaw aren’t those of your keepers. Your fawning reverence and elevation of mere biological sex to an object of worship degrades not only yourself, but the female human beings you grovel for.

Women, contrary to your mewling and self-serving fawning are, like men, simply humans, and can have no dignity when falsely deified and elevated as if creatures of mythical ether.

You degrade them by your worship, as you degrade yourselves.

In your self abasement, you seek to self-excise all visible trace of masculinity, and you have, along with any worth you might have deserved.

What use are you besides a long, droopy lap dog?

I see clearly, what some might not – and that isn’t your prostrate form, your weakness, or your limber back. That much is obvious the the sightless masses of the general population. What I see clearly is your opportunism, your false piety, and the ethic of a carrion eater. Your false reverence has nothing whatsoever to do with respect for women, it’s and everything to do with posturing for approval. Look at me, I’m a “good” man, not like those other “bad” men. Your simpering sycophancy stinks of benefit seeking.

The women you mewl after have more to fear from you than the most direct pugilist. And you too have much to fear – because you are lacking any ethic except opportunity, and it is plainly visible – painting a well deserved target directly on your yellow backs.

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