taking stupid to a whole new level

[box type=”alert” icon=”none”]Feminist who win lotto bitch about taxes. Confucius’s cousin, Fred.[/box]

Continued studies of feminism increasingly reveal it to be best described as emotional diarrhea coupled with intellectual constipation.

This has just been confirmed again by the gang of vacuous caterwaulers over at, who are now complaining that advertising for Summer’s Eve (vagina cleanser-deodorizer) is too pussy-centric, even for their tastes [sic].

That’s right folks, one of the larger on-line communities of Vaginacrat Purists that ever existed; the same crew of douchebags that shared “How I beat the crap out of my boyfriend” stories like they were sitting around a campfire roasting testicles on the ends of sticks, is feeling uneasy about the way this brand of pussy soap is being peddled.

They are being led to yet another orgy of hokum and outrage by one Dodai Stewart (don’t ask me to pronounce that first name, or remember the last), who of course sees merit in some of the ads basic tenets, namely that “It hails the vagina as the “cradle of life” and the “center of civilization,” something men have fought and died for. It insists that women are amazing and should be worshipped.”

But in the end, whatshername still found the commercial unsatisfying and queried “So why does it just feel like they’re blowing smoke up our asses?”

Well, there’s that, but she is also bothered by the fact that douche is maybe not so good for the p-nay-nay.  And wait, she is also miffed because despite the fact that we all know that Cleopatra had a brain, they did not mention that Cleopatra had a brain. They totally left Cleopatra’s brain out of the picture and only talked about her pussy. How dehumanizing in a patriarchal sort of way.

Now, given that whatshername wandered through a myriad of possible affronts trying (and failing) to find a real target, I feel it is my civic duty to help her. But I can do that best by pointing to the real problems, not the ones she is making up and trying to fit into a feminist mold so that they will make sense to her and her stupid readers.

First, cupcake, they are not blowing smoke up your ass, they are blowing smoke up your pussy.

Why? Because, you insufferable moron, you have insisted that they do as a prerequisite to selling you shit.  And you should give them some real credit. They covered the basics well.

Remember all that fawning bullshit about women being worshipped and the pussy being the center of civilization; the stuff that you liked?

That was actually the part they got wrong.  Waking up to that little reality will make you and your vaginal compatriots a lot less malleable in the hands of advertisers. See, cupcake, you are not a goddess or any other kind of deity.  You are just a woman, and that smooth spot between your legs? Just a pussy.

It might make you buy a new car, but it can't build one

As for being the center of civilization; sorry, that spot is still reserved in the real world for those who built it.  That would be men. Don’t let sound bites emanating from the boob tube go to your head, or your pussy, if that happens to be what you are thinking with.

Remember the fembot slogan that “feminism is the radical notion that women are human beings”? Well, you should have stuck with that and called it a day.  The expectation that you are something more than human generally tends to indicate that you are actually something less.

Imagine a world in which you are just another person and not so easily offended by the sales of pussy soap. Fewer people would have to suffer your droning like a pipe organ about the fact that some advertiser acknowledged that Cleopatra had a cunt, and the fact that there is a million companies out there working overtime trying to sell everyone shit they don’t need would not manifest into anything more conspiratorial than it already is.

It’s just a commercial, cupcake; one mind you that obsequiously groveled for your money by handing you the Hollywood style illusion that you were a million wonderful things that you clearly aren’t.

Don’t you have something to wax, and something else to wax paranoid about?

And truly, truly, there’s the rub. How bad can things be for women if they can afford to bitch and moan about advertisers bending over backwards to kiss their entitled asses? Answer: not very fucking bad. More accurate answer: really fucking good. But perhaps there is something else at play here? As whatshername wandered around her piece looking for a complaint that had traction (and failing), something else rose to the surface here, above the average fembots ability to comprehend.

This commercial is so close to the truth that it bitch slapped whatshername on an unconscious level (apparently that covers a lot of real estate). It bludgeoned her with a truth so devastating to everything she believes that it sent her, befuddled and disoriented, in search of a legitimate bitch, which she never found.

Pussy is power. Always has been.  Just like the commercial said, men have fought and died for it. And much, much more. The truth about pussy power eviscerates every lie about female powerlessness ever pawned off by feminists on a culture so afraid of that power that it would not even call them on the lies.

It is the same power that allows whatshername to cry foul for all the wrong reasons, ignore the right reasons, get everything wrong and all fucked up, and actually get support from people who can otherwise think. Well, unless we take some time to dwell on it in a place like this, where pussy power is on hiatus, and we can think all the time.

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