Tag Archives: chickenhead




If you examine the narrative of women and the way it is in relationship with the masculine narrative you see that the female mind presupposes the surplus of the male mind while at the same time being hostile towards it.  They want men to care for them and about them while they do not return the concern.  Women presuppose an environment that is pleasant for themselves.  I call them “choosy beggars” they want something done for themselves that they can’t do for themselves and then they are very picky about how it is done for them.  

Women presuppose a pleasant environment, which is not a natural environment.  Nature isn’t pleasant, outer space isn’t pleasant, the surface of the sun isn’t pleasant, and yet women think that a man should suffer to provide these things for her. Women get angry at you for not reading their minds.  Why should I give a single fuck what she thinks?  She has words doesn’t she?  She isn’t a gurgling baby is she?  Use your big girl words.  Why shouldn’t you be reading my mind?  

How many times have you heard a woman say, “A real man….”  What makes women the authority on what is and is not a real man?  Why are men not the authority on what it is to be a real woman?  A real woman would make me a sammich without my even having to ask.  A real woman would bring her fine as sister over and smack her ass while she twerks in my face.  A real woman has had sex with more than 3 men at the same time.  

Think about it, men are bad for wanting what they want and women are good for wanting what they want.  They presuppose their moral authority over us judge us, punish us, and not participate with us whenever they want.  If my desires aren’t valid in my own relationship than fuck you bitch it is every man for himself, catch as catch can.  As Aleister Crowley once said, 

“every woman is attracted to the man with the most powerful steed and the best control of it.” 

Things have changed a bit though nowadays.  The stallion doesn’t get to control himself, women use the reigns of guilt and shame to ride your pony and the lash of a forked tongue…