THEY DIDN'T DIE FOR NOTHING!!! – it's an emotional hammer they beat us with if we dare question the value of this war– "Are you going to tell those soldier's families that their loved ones died for nothing!?"
No, I won't have to , because they'll figure it out for themselves.
Guess what? EVERYONE dies for nothing – killed in war, killed by a drunk driver, killed by cancer – all death is ugly and petty and shabby. Death is not noble, it's not heroic, it doesn't serve a greater purpose. We all die for nothing – the question is what do we live for. Laying down your life for a cause is not the ultimate sacrifice… dedicating your life to a cause is the ultimate sacrifice.
If you glorify the death then it cheapens the life, and lessens the realization of the tragedy.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
A woman isn't smart enough to be president
It’s an opinion he shares with anyone who’ll listen, although that indicates no special status since he shares all his opinions with anyone who’ll listen. It’s a simple belief, stated in simple terms:
“Women aren’t smart enough to be president.”
He’s half right, because what he’s really saying is that the women he’s met aren’t smart enough to be president.
“All the women who’ve dated me are stupid!” Well…you got me there.
You have to realize that in this man’s world there are only two kinds of women: idiots, and women who won’t talk to him. You wear acid wash jeans, reek of Marlboro Reds and spend your leisure time shooting rats at the city dump, you’re not going to be meeting a lot of self-actualized women. Not a lot of poly-sci chicks standing in line behind you at the Ratt concert.
He doesn’t tend to think of women as “smart”, “successful”, “accomplished”… he tends to think of women more in terms of “hot”, “sexy”, “babe”… basically his descriptive vocabulary is limited to adjectives that these women have embroidered on the ass of their sweat pants.
In larger terms, he lumps women into two general categories: drunk or sober. Or more accurately – drunk or pre-drunk. This of course corresponds directly with the categories “worth talking to” and “bartender, I’d like to buy the lady a shot.”
He doesn’t have any interest in women who engage in reading, education, self-discovery, or other lesbian activities.
It’s not that he feels threatened by intelligent women – that would take a level of self-awareness that a man with a mullet clearly does not posses. It’s just that intelligent women are so alien to his experience that they seem mythical, like electing a unicorn. Ironically this should appeal to him, as unicorns are his fourth favorite subject of black-light posters and shelf-statues (after wizards, dragons, and some chick with a sword)
And since when does this guy even care about intelligence? When in his blindered, narrow existence has intelligence ever been valued? He makes his career choices out of necessity, his mating choices out of desperation, and his spiritual choices out of superstition. Politically he’s a bumper sticker, artistically he’s a tattoo, and emotionally he’s a port-a-john that overflows in bad weather.
Yes, I just questioned the artistic integrity of a tattoos. Walk it off, you pussy.
Yes, I just used the term “pussy” as a gender-insensitive insult. Walk it off, you pussy pussy.
“Women aren’t smart enough to be president.”
He’s half right, because what he’s really saying is that the women he’s met aren’t smart enough to be president.
“All the women who’ve dated me are stupid!” Well…you got me there.
You have to realize that in this man’s world there are only two kinds of women: idiots, and women who won’t talk to him. You wear acid wash jeans, reek of Marlboro Reds and spend your leisure time shooting rats at the city dump, you’re not going to be meeting a lot of self-actualized women. Not a lot of poly-sci chicks standing in line behind you at the Ratt concert.
He doesn’t tend to think of women as “smart”, “successful”, “accomplished”… he tends to think of women more in terms of “hot”, “sexy”, “babe”… basically his descriptive vocabulary is limited to adjectives that these women have embroidered on the ass of their sweat pants.
In larger terms, he lumps women into two general categories: drunk or sober. Or more accurately – drunk or pre-drunk. This of course corresponds directly with the categories “worth talking to” and “bartender, I’d like to buy the lady a shot.”
He doesn’t have any interest in women who engage in reading, education, self-discovery, or other lesbian activities.
It’s not that he feels threatened by intelligent women – that would take a level of self-awareness that a man with a mullet clearly does not posses. It’s just that intelligent women are so alien to his experience that they seem mythical, like electing a unicorn. Ironically this should appeal to him, as unicorns are his fourth favorite subject of black-light posters and shelf-statues (after wizards, dragons, and some chick with a sword)
And since when does this guy even care about intelligence? When in his blindered, narrow existence has intelligence ever been valued? He makes his career choices out of necessity, his mating choices out of desperation, and his spiritual choices out of superstition. Politically he’s a bumper sticker, artistically he’s a tattoo, and emotionally he’s a port-a-john that overflows in bad weather.
Yes, I just questioned the artistic integrity of a tattoos. Walk it off, you pussy.
Yes, I just used the term “pussy” as a gender-insensitive insult. Walk it off, you pussy pussy.
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