Would You Date a Feminist?

Yes. I would date a feminist because I like the idea of entering a two-way relationship with a woman that already has a victim mentality in which I am the victimizer and I owe her something just because of my very existence. Because she has experienced god awful things that could only be attributed to mine and all other men’s existence. And beauty, ugh. All women have beauty. Whether a woman is pulling poop out of her panties and rubbing it in her hair or if she is wearing a dress with makeup, she is beautiful, and any man that says otherwise is wrong. Because beauty is nothing that should be gained or maintained, women just have it regardless of anything that they do and the ideas of beauty or something being more attractive in comparison to another is a form of primitive thinking.

 

And for the transexuals and whatever other fantasy sex identities there are, as far as my own sexuality goes, I would like to add that I sexually identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields and dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People tell me that a human being becoming a helicopter is impossible and that I am mentally retarded but I don’t care, I am beautiful. I’m having a plastic surgeon install rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles onto my body. From now on I want everyone to call me “Apache” and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can’t accept me then you are a heliphobe and you need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.

 

And the reason that I said yes, I would date a feminist, it  is because I hate myself for no reason and I am on a life long odyssey to find a woman that can hate me at least half as much as I do, for all the same reasons.

 

(this is all just drunken rambling after reading bullshit off of Tumblr for two hours)

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3:05AM – $8 vodka and zero calorie Tang flavor with water

I work my menial job and live what others tell me to be a purposeful life. I have enough money to stave off worry for the month, I have an apartment to call home, I have a car to drive me to required destinations, and I have the necessary clothing to gain approval from the people that are in charge of watching over me. But when I pass that homeless person on my way to the liquor store, I’m not sure if I avoid putting a quarter in his cup because I’m cheap, or because I want him to stay free.

 

(I like these gaylord emo entries on here when I’m too drunk to think straight. Because i still manage to type well but they’re interesting when I read them in the morning. I’m just hamming some slamdog to knock myself out.)

3:11AM; 12/22/14; Evan Williams and water

I don’t want to adapt my diet to modern living conditions. I don’t want to stop eating meat because mankind has surpassed the need to kill and harm his fellow creatures for sustenance. I want to scavenge for scraps when I need a snack. I want to swing through trees in pursuit of life. I want to sludge through the mud and the shit of the world to kill my competition for the purpose of living and becoming stronger than my fellow hunters, instead of drudging through the work echelons for an air conditioner that ranks highest in Consumer Reports. I want a life of struggle and discovery but instead I was born too late to map the world and too early to sail the universe. I’ll never show a familiar hunter my techniques for staying alive and healthy enough to hunt again; I’ll just show him my car and my watch. Nobody ever wants what they have or has what they want. I suppose evolution is the life and death of anything with a conscience and that’s why we’ll make it. I just hate the fact that I have to be aware of it.