House of Eratosthenes

Sam Janney was asking for input from all her Facebook peeps about liberal women. In my present life, I know nothing about this at all…by choice…but my past is very, very dirty. I have layers of understanding here, and some of the layers have been buried. Many a classic tale has been written about this kind of “hidden world” beneath a newer, better one. Morlochs beneath the Eloi. Narnia inside the wardrobe. Alice’s world behind the looking glass.

I was very busy with what I was doing, and I knew that once I turned the first spade of dirt I’d fall into a deep pit. On the other hand, I was getting very bogged down, bored, and needed a break.

So I told her my contribution would be forthcoming in an off-line, and proceeded to write:

My knowledge is dated, since the last time I dated a liberal woman was around ’94 or so, at which point I swore them off for good.

We start with the A-through-E “get me a beer” scale. An “A-girl” will get a guy a beer so he doesn’t have to get up. A “B-girl” will get a guy a beer provided he treats her as a dignified and intelligent human being, meaning, says “please” and “thank you” as his Mom taught him. A “C-girl” might get him a beer but she’s going to keep count of who does how many things for who, and after she gets his beer he’s going to “owe” her one. A “D-girl” won’t get him a beer, and an “E-girl” will build an identity for herself out of her refusal to get him a beer.

Conservative women are B-girls, like the current Mrs. Freeberg. Liberals are either C or E. That’s because liberals are relativists. They don’t define things absolutely, everything is relative. That’s an important part of the reason why all liberals, male and female alike, are unfulfilled and don’t know why. They only permit themselves to “know” things that rely on other things, which are outside their perimeter of control.

“D-girls” do exist, but they aren’t liberals. They’re just plain lazy. If a liberal woman falls into D, she slips down to E, because liberals don’t refuse to do things without starting to define their whole existence around the refusal.

Proceeding to the physical attributes. Liberal women, steadfastly and consistently, have calves that are no thicker up toward the knee than they are down by the ankles — they’re straight up and down, like PVC pipes. This is a guy’s first tip-off that being her boyfriend is going to be a life of absolute misery, because she doesn’t get up off the couch and do things. If she isn’t fat, it’s because she doesn’t eat anything real. And whatever she does eat, she’s going to want to have brought to her by her subservient boyfriend. She’ll never come out and admit he’s subservient. Across the political divide, we’ve got a lot of women who hate men but aren’t willing to admit they hate men, even to themselves. But when it comes to everyday household chores, like cleaning things or bringing food, there is no such thing as a liberal feminist who supports “equality.” What they really mean is, they don’t want to have to get up out of a chair or couch unless they want to. Because, think about it, how would that work. A hundred droplets of toothpaste on the bathroom mirror, which therefore has to be cleaned. She takes care of fifty of them? Deep down, everyone knows it can’t work that way, we’re just not allowed to talk about it.

Above the knees, it becomes unsafe to generalize because there are fat liberal women and skinny liberal women. There seems to be an “inverted bell curve” here, with the thin part of the curve in the middle — a shortage of liberal women with healthy, reasonably-sized and reasonably-shaped bodies. What is consistent is the rage. Because it’s part of a liberal’s comfort zone to stay away from all hard definitions unless they rely on external things, the thoughts in the head are about external things. He is being paid more than me. She can be hired as a Hooter’s waitress, and I can’t. Sarah Palin needs to go away. Lego’s should not be selling toys to girls that are colored pink, because, stereotypes and messaging. They’re inherently insecure, because their satisfaction in life is all connected to things other people do, or don’t do. So across the board, they’re either missing the satisfaction, or they have the satisfaction but it’s fleeting and out of their control.

So the brain is by far the ugliest part. Apart from the brain, and the calf area of the leg between knee and ankle, there is the upper lip. There is this amazing consistency in liberal women over age 35, in how they look between the mouth and the nose. They all have that same Barbra-Streisand look, with this overly pronounced fold in the center. It’s called a “philtrum.” A disproportionate number of middle aged liberal females all have the same size & shape of philtrum. And the peach fuzz that goes over it. Barbra, Hillary Clinton, some sixty percent of all the women in Congress, their faces are all completely interchangeable in this one area, around the philtrum. I think it comes from many years of studiously avoiding doing anything that make make the face visually appealing to a heterosexual man, combined with lots and lots and lots of talking.

Which brings me to the voice. Liberal women have a very distinctive voice pattern. It’s as if they’re going to get fined by a “voice cop” if they utter a syllable without a piece of glass shattering somewhere. The nasal quality of a duck, combined with the volume and force of a roaring lion.

Hair: Some have a “Lois Lane swoop” with blond highlights, since that’s what Matriarch Hillary was doing in the mid-nineties. Some have curls. The “Sandra Fluke” Moe-Howard bowl cut seems to be popular right now, probably because it’s the surest way to repel the hated heterosexual men. But that is the common thread, they don’t want to be attractive to heterosexual men. Unless they’re trying to look like Eva Longoria. Being pretty is forgivable inside the collective, as long as it’s within the rubric of ethnic diversity. So some of the ardent liberal feminists who wish to act on their desire to attract a strong sexy male, will go that route. But they can’t ever, ever permit themselves to look like a bleach-blond Fox News babe.

Fashion: They know what they want in the moment, but if you look at them across any significant expanse of time, they become confusion personified. They are particularly confused about whether it’s okay to accentuate female attributes that men might find appealing, particularly the busts and legs. They are on a merry-go-round here, everlastingly and predictably. They haven’t got the slightest idea what to do about Wonder Woman, other than 1) it’s grossly unfair that she hasn’t made a movie before Green Lantern, and 2) she has to cover up her legs. It seems to be lost on them that Wonder Woman started showing off her legs, again, in 1972 to satisfy a demand from none other than Gloria Steinem. Fashion was doing the same thing, incidentally: In 1970, you weren’t a good feminist if you covered up your legs, and by 1985 you weren’t a good feminist if you left them exposed. The problem here is at the psychological level and it’s pretty obvious: They’re not sure if they are rebelling against their fathers, or the lusty men who’d come along to take them from their fathers. But they’re crystal clear on the decision that they want to do some rebelling.

The balance of what remains has to do with how to look at the world:

If you make it your business to subscribe to liberal-feminist blogs, and read what they put up, you’ll see a striking pattern set in: Across the hundreds, and even the thousands, they all fall into this funnel of thought that could be summarized as “Oh how I hate this thing I found over here, come gather around loyal readers, and help me hate it.” They don’t have questions and they don’t have answers — all they have is “How Dare You.”

Liberal women labor under a delusion that their primary motive is to elevate the stature and importance of women in our evolving society. Not only is this untrue, but they labor toward the opposite. Women can do an amazing number of things; some of these things can also be done by men, but there are just two of them that men cannot do. Those two things are 1) being a mother and 2) being a wife. Those are the two things that liberal women don’t want other women, anywhere, to do. Over the last few decades they have become unreasonably invested in the two public issues of 1) abortion, which stops a woman from becoming a mother, and 2) gay marriage, which robs women of their natural role as wives. In a society that is supposed to be sluggish in offering important and significant roles for women to occupy, those are the two roles that have always existed, and they are the very most important ones, supreme to anything a man can do. If liberal women were sincere and consistent in their stated desires, these are the two roles they would most vigilantly protect. As it is, these are the two roles for which they reserve their most incendiary hatred.

It is in the nature of liberals to pretend they are building something great, grand and wonderful, while actually laboring toward nothing but destruction. Liberal women are no exception to this. They think they’re invested in a process of creation, when they are really creating nothing, destroying everything.

Other than the foregoing, I really don’t have much of an opinion about it.

Nope. No baggage here.

Kind of dovetails into something Severian was writing about this weekend:

…[W]hen it comes down to it, I really just don’t care all that much what you do on your own time — I’ve got friends and family and pets and jobs and responsibilities; on my off hours I’d much rather put my feet up and watch the ball game with a cold brew in hand than go poking around the internet for something to get riled up about.

Liberals, on the other hand, are deeply, deeply insecure. They’ve quite rightly concluded that nobody gives them a thought unless forced to. So they politicize everyfuckinthing. It still won’t get them invited to the 1983 junior prom; but it’s cheaper than therapy.

You ever have a live-in girlfriend who relates to the world around her that way? You go to work, make your honest living, come home to find out something has whipped her up into a frothy rage…the last thing that got under her skin, a day or two ago, is now long forgotten and the latest bee-in-the-bonnet is this new thing. Lather, rinse, repeat, twelve months a year.

No thanks, brother. You can keep it. This shit makes my life-energy just drain away, and I swear I can feel it happening. The air isn’t as fresh, the sun isn’t as warm, the food doesn’t taste as good. Makes a man old before his time.

I’m a father, by the way. That means I’ve been around a woman while she was pregnant. Yeah. I’d rather go through that a a few more times than be around one more liberal woman. And I’d rather think about the those frenetic months than think about liberal women.

And so, on that note, I’m going to move the giant manhole-cover back in place, over the sewers of my mind. They aren’t memories I treasure, although they represent things I guess I needed to have happen to me.

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Skinny Calves and Hairy PhiltrumsMonday, June 3rd, 2013

Skinny Calves and Hairy Philtrums
Monday, June 3rd, 2013