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Posts Tagged ‘Sex’

It’s that time of the month again — no, not that time, the good time: time for Unamusement Park’s three-month anniversary spectacular! Hurray! Or should I say… Unamusement Park’s three-month anniversary slut-tacular. Hurray again! Hurray for sluts!

We like sluts!

You thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you? You silly goose.

I feel the need... the need for sluts.

This is a day I’ll remember forever, like the first time I lied to get sex (“I love you too”), or the first time I took advantage of a drunk girl (“close your eyes, open your mouth, and take off your top — there’s something I want to tell you”).

April is the sluttiest month, and the last nine days of March are pretty slutty too

Tonight we commemorate the founding of Unamusement Park, surely a pivotal moment in women’s history. Bigger than Roe v. Wade. Bigger than suffrage. Bigger than the invention of the push-up bra. Bigger even than the first time a man said: “Hey, you know what would be great? If only there was some way we could oppress all women forever… with our dicks.” So put on some clothes, wipe off your face, and take my hand, as we look back on some of the slut-tastic hate-erosexual experiences we’ve shared and you’ve later regretted, you dirty little girl.

  • As part of the previous anniversary celebration here at Unamusement Park, I dispatched my crack squad of Research Assistants into the field to collect data on a disturbing cultural trend: stupidity levels, already unsustainably high since the late 90s, are still rising.
  • There’s a whole new world of psychology research, a new fantastic point of view on race differences in intelligence. No one can tell us no, or where to go, or say we’re only dreaming. I’m like a shooting star: I’ve come so far, I can’t go back to where I used to be. With respect to behavior genetics, that is.
  • Colorlines: offering solutions to whatever mythical problems today’s minorities are whining about, especially if it’s something white people are doing, like staying in school, getting good grades, not doing drugs, keeping out of jail, or succeeding in life without government handouts.
  • Poor sportsmanship? It’s a reactionary musical extravaganza!
  • One of the peculiarities of our decadent age is the ongoing undeclared War on Hate, which is being waged by the most hateful and malicious elements of our society. Hatred is a five-part documentary on their struggle. Their stupid, useless, confused, evil struggle.
  • Race denialists really don’t think about race. They will do anything to avoid it.
  • They also display a tendency to shoot themselves in the foot. “African blacks don’t have an average IQ of 70,” they crow. “It’s actually 81! That’s only nineteen points (1.3 standard deviations) below the white average!”
  • It’s funny how many people accuse me of being hateful, bigoted, crazy, stupid, or ignorant. Every time they do, I remember the immortal words of Inigo Montoya: “You killed my father. Prepare to die.” Wait, no, that’s not right.
  • Since this is my very first post wholly devoted to the dreadful subject of feminism, I’m going to treat it like spaghetti: throw a bunch of angry sex-conscious women at a wall and see if they stick. No, that’s not quite right. Let’s just say I’m going to strip down my rhetoric, whip out my toolbox of reactionary politics, and shoot my hateful ideas right in their faces. There’s got to be a better metaphor for that…
  • Every time a feminist lies that rape is about power, not sex, and every time she meets useful information with victim-blaming hysteria, she is making the world a little less safe for women. Thanks to feminists, no rape victim will ever forget it wasn’t her fault she was assaulted as she walked home at 3 am, alone, drunk, and wearing her awesome new miniskirt. The man who attacked her was clearly seeking power and control over women. Next week, he’ll probably rape an 80-year-old grandmother at lunch time.
  • You wouldn’t ask a shark to respect your right not to get eaten, would you? Don’t ask rapists to respect your right not to get raped. They don’t care. That’s what makes them rapists. Just stay away from them.
  • You can determine race with 99.86 percent accuracy by looking at gene clusters. You can also determine race by looking at bones. That’s forensic anthropology, or as I like to call it, CSI Serengeti.
  • The truth is, statistically speaking, there is no bias against blacks inherent in the justice system. All the anecdotal evidence in the world won’t change that.
  • “When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy against him” (Jonathan Swift).
  • It’s a genetic epic: an Hispanic panic! Are they ethnic or organic? That third rail (of rape responsibility) was galvanic. (I’m manic.)
  • Human Biological Variationa race denialist favorite, “used in virtually every physical anthropology class for undergraduate students in America” — has the following to say about race differences in intelligence: “There is little debate over the average 15-point difference [in IQ] between American blacks and whites…” Research is hard!
  • Madness? THIS. IS. SFORZA.
  • “Fuck this shit,” I hear you say. “Fuck the war, fuck the economy, fuck global warming, and fuck the price of gas. Fuck the Democrats and fuck the Republicans, but especially the fucking Democrats, and especially the fucking Republicans. Fuck Obama, fuck Biden, fuck Boehner ’til he cries. Fuck the radicals liberally. Fuck the libertarians freely. Fuck the socialists according to your needs, and fuck them again according to their abilities.” Anyway, I came up with this thing. I call it compassionate reactionism.
  • I’ve actually been thinking about that a lot lately. Not the fact that I’m a frantic schizoid bum — I came to terms with that long ago. No, I mean I’ve been thinking about ways to take these wonderfully hateful ideas off the Internet, out of my fortified bunker complex in Vermont, and into the light of day. Or rather, into the twilight of Western Civilization.
  • This is not what racism looks like: a scientist gives intelligence tests to some people, then announces he’s found a difference in their average IQs. This is what racism looks like: a high-school dropout shoots some beer bottles with an air rifle, then announces “I hate all the niggers, they like to eat watermelon, and I wish they would just go back to Africa sometime very soon.”

Was it good for you? ‘Cause it was fucking spectacular for me.

The first annual Most Retarded Race Denialist award

Unamusement Park would not be possible — actually, it would be possible, but a whole lot less fun for me, if not for the generous contributions of random Internet losers, who have donated their ignorant, inconsistent, idiotic opinions to fuel my white-hot white rage and give me something to make fun of when I can’t think of anything substantial to write. Which is nearly always.

On this day, these men shall be honored for their generosity in the only truly appropriate way: by first insulting, then ignoring them.

Wise words. But this past month, some of those random Internet losers have been so stupefyingly ignorant, so consistently inconsistent, and so unbelievably idiotic that they’ve earned some individual recognition. To that end, I am introducing Unamusement Park’s first award, to be presented annually to the most retarded race denialist: the annual Most Retarded Race Denialist award!

The nominees are: anyone, absolutely anyone, who believes at least one of the following retarded things:

  1. Race is a social construct.
  2. Race is not biological.
  3. Race is only skin deep.
  4. Diversity is a strength.
  5. Black people are just as smart as white people (and Asians).

Without further ado, I proudly present the first annual Most Retarded Race Denialist award to… all of them! They’re all the most retarded! Hurray!

By popular demand: a slutty slut acting slutty!

We turn now to a slutty slut acting slutty, to hear her slutty thoughts on Unamusement Park’s three-month anniversary slut-tacular, or as I like to call it, “International Touch-a-Sleeping-Girl’s-Boobs Day.”

I miss my gratuitous French girl, but she has far too much self-respect to appear in the slut-tacular.

Take it away, you slutty slut.

“Oh my God, I haven’t been fucked in hours. I can’t think straight. I can’t even see straight. Someone, anyone, please stick your cock in me. You!”

Me?

“Yeah, you: the blurry guy with the turnips, wearing the ‘I Hate Black People’ t-shirt. I need you to fuck me. Now.”

… Seriously?

“Do I look like I’m kidding? This is a medical emergency! I. Need. Cock.”

Uh… wow. Hehe, are you at least going to buy me dinner f—

“Shut the fuck up. Take off your pants.”

Hey, what are you — those are my — oh fuck. Guys, stop the tape. Get out of here.

“No, it’s cool. They can stay.”

No, seriously, stop the —

We close on the satisfied moaning and gentle slurping noises of a slutty slut an empowered, sex-positive woman doing what she does best.

“Stop narrating.”

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“Minorities struggle with racism every single day of their lives,” the sensitivity trainer explains at the start of your mandatory annual Sensitivity Seminar. “You can’t see always it, because it’s so deeply ingrained in our institutions, and your white privilege is blinding you to their suffering. But there’s no denying it: the proof is in the statistics. Minority students are falling behind in school.” Somehow you doubt he’s talking about Asians. “They’re under-represented in science and engineering. They’re being sent to prison instead of college. There’s no other explanation.”

What do you say?

“Homophobes!” Your brother-in-law, the environmentalist lawyer, exclaims over dinner. “They’re just a bunch of right-wing fundamentalist homophobes. Why won’t they give up their hatred and let gay people marry each other, already? Straight people can get married — whatever happened to equal rights? How can they talk about ‘preserving the sanctity of marriage,’ when half of all marriages end in divorce?”

What do you say?

“Why don’t you take an interest in real issues that matter to real people?” Your girlfriend wants to know when you get home. “Did you know that women still make 70 cents for every dollar a man makes? Or was it 80… Anyway, one in four women will get sexually assaulted in her lifetime! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Do you think it’s okay that cops are telling us we deserve to get raped because of how we dress? Society is afraid of women’s sexuality! Now are you going to drive me to the Slut Walk tomorrow or not? You know I don’t have a car, and I’m afraid to go alone.”

What do you say?

Okay, that last one is easy: “Did you flood my toilet?” Then, without waiting for an answer: “Bring the movies.” (Game: I’m doing it right.)

I was going to upload a picture of my ex, but I decided to just Google "slut" instead. There is an uncanny resemblance here, though.

Constructive criticism

Fellow reactionists (whatever that means), it has been brought to my attention that

  1. it’s impossible to have this conversation in the real world, so nothing I write here at Unamusement Park will ever get any further than your computer screen;
  2. very soon the raging dark masses and government thought-crime enforcers will snuff us out for good; and furthermore
  3. I am a mangled smelly bug-eyed bum.

WILL DEBUNK RACE DENIALISM FOR FOOD

Fair enough. I’ve actually been thinking about that a lot lately. Not the fact that I’m a frantic schizoid bum — I came to terms with that long ago. No, I mean I’ve been thinking about ways to take these wonderfully hateful ideas off the Internet, out of my fortified bunker complex in Vermont, and into the light of day. Or rather, into the twilight of Western Civilization.

But it’s cozy in my bunker!

Compassionate reactionism: it’s a thing now. I’m not exactly sure what thing it is, but that’s obviously not going to stop me from talking about it at great length.

It’s like ordinary reactionism, only… slightly less hateful. It’s reactionism you can talk about over tea with Grandma.

By my definition, compassionate reactionism comprises all possible honest answers to the question I posed in the introduction — what do you say? — that will not get you fired by your boss, disowned by your family, or dumped by your hypothetical girlfriend. I’m kidding about the girlfriend — you should just let that one go — but I’m semi-serious about the concept, which is the most serious I ever get about anything.

Really, what can you tell your family, your friends, your co-workers? Having none myself, I am in no position to answer. (I was raised by wolves, learned English from reading cereal boxes, and make a living selling turnips I grow behind my bunker.)

Vermont is turnip country.

On Stranger Tides

In my first post on the subject, you’ll find grains of truth, kernels of ideas, mixed nuts of sensible suggestions: it’s nice you’re a feminist, but your ideas about rape are endangering women, for instance, or I understand that you believe you’re a gay woman in a straight man’s body, but you still can’t shower with the “other” girls. That’s the direction we’re heading.

Bear in mind, we’re in uncharted waters here. Already we have sailed into the eye of the feminist storm to battle the man-hating man-eating Kraken that lurks within. We have resisted the Siren song of the sexy sluts, not to mention their incessant wordplay about “getting wet.” We have even waded through the rank, candiru-infested swamps of gender identity. Tomorrow, reactionary rapier in hand, we turn our cannons of compassion on the rowboat of race relations, fearless even in the face of certain death! By which I mean, someone is certain to brand us with the dreaded R-word.

Or should I say, the dreaded arrrrrrrr-word. Hee hee.

Yeah, we got into a whole pirate thing there. Not sure how that happened, but I'm quite pleased it did.

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Repent.

My opinion of the modern world is best illustrated by these words.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Yeats, “The Second Coming”

My opinion of the modern world is second best illustrated by these words.

A man is lying on the street, some punk has chopped off his head,
And I’m the only one who stops to see if he’s dead.
Turns out he’s dead.
That’s why I’m singing:
Oooooo, what is wrong with the world today?
(What’s wrong with the world today?
<mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble>)

Flight of the Conchords, “Issues (Think About It)”

With all these gyres widening, innocence ceremonies drowning, and blood-dimmed tides on the loose, it is easy to become disheartened, bitter, homicidal, or glum.

“Fuck this shit,” I hear you say. “Fuck the war, fuck the economy, fuck global warming, and fuck the price of gas. Fuck the Democrats and fuck the Republicans, but especially the fucking Democrats, and especially the fucking Republicans. Fuck Obama, fuck Biden, fuck Boehner ’til he cries. Fuck the radicals liberally. Fuck the libertarians freely. Fuck the socialists according to your needs, and fuck them again according to their abilities. Fuck the birthers in Hawaii or fuck them in Kenya, it’s all the same to me. Fuck the truthers with an iron-rich sphere. Fuck the relativists and tell them it’s traditional in your country. Fuck the haters, I fucking hate those fucks. Fuck Iraq, fuck Iran; fuck Egypt and Afghanistan. Take a fifteen minute break, then fuck Libya. You know what, fuck every other Middle Eastern shit-hole sand pile, too. Fuck the terrorists. Fuck all the Muslims. Fuck the Arabs and fuck the Jews. Fuck Rachel Corrie with a bulldozer. Fuck the blacks and fuck the Mexicans. Fuck the Asians in the library. Fuck South Africa until they bring back apartheid. Fuck the feminists and make them call you ‘daddy.’ Fuck the Conscious Men, and hey, Dear Woman: Fuck You Too. Fuck the sluts, they’re asking for it. Fuck the betas. (Someone’s got to do it.) Fuck the lesbians straight and fuck the straight girls bi. Fuck the bi girls, they’re crazy in the sack. And while you’re at it, fuck the crazy girls too. Fuck the rapists before they fuck you. Fuck cancer, fuck AIDS, fuck herpes, and fuck swine flu. Fuck the criminals and fuck the police. Fuck mom and dad, they don’t fucking understand you anyway. Fuck Bristol Palin and get her pregnant with another retarded baby. (Or was it Sarah? Ah, fuck it.) Fuck Rebecca Black. Fuck her on Thursday, Thursday. Fuck her again on Friday, Friday. Tomorrow is fucking Saturday, and fucking Sunday comes afterward. You know what? Fuck ’em all. Fuck me, fuck you, fuck the whole entire world. Go fuck yourself.”

I understand your frustration, and I respect your enthusiasm (even as I fear your psychotic babbling). But I am here to tell you: fucking is not the answer! We cannot fuck our way out of this predicament. Our generation’s Berlin Walls will not be brought down by our collective jackhammer thrusting, despite the apparent aptness of the metaphor.

I'm paraphrasing.

Anyway, I came up with this thing. I call it compassionate reactionism. It’s like ordinary reactionism, only… slightly less hateful. It’s reactionism you can talk about over tea with Grandma. Over the next few days, I will attempt to explain the concept by examples. Hey, it’s not like I’ve got three other series going on already…

The Compassionate Reactionary on… Feminism

So you’ve decided women are just as good as men. Maybe better.

No, definitely better.

I happen to agree. Girls are soft and they smell nice. That alone guarantees their superiority. Oh, you meant something different. Equality and shit, right? But you’ve already got that.

Well anyway, I’m happy you’re so strong and empowered and independent and you don’t need a man and your vagina delivers monologues. Why you keep asking for special treatment is a bit of a mystery, but… whatever. We can put that aside for now. I really hope your Ph.D. in Gender Studies is six prime reproductive years well spent. (See how compassionate I am?) However:

Don’t come crying to me when your feminism meets reality, and reality kicks the shit out of you. This is the kind of thing I’m talking about. (I feel like we’ve been over this before, albeit in an altogether less compassionate way.)

If you drink and drug yourself into a stupor and wake up in a strange bed with a hangover, a tattoo, a bad case of crabs, and a whole lot of regret, you don’t get to wash away your culpability (or your crabs) by declaring yourself a rape victim. Light all the candles you want. That’s one night you can’t take back.

You say you have a right to not get raped. At first glance, this appears to be a true statement. However, your behavior has lead me to believe you have confused “right to not get raped” with “indestructible barrier protecting your vagina (etc.) at all times and in all places, allowing you to do exactly as you please without any consequences.”

The thing about rapists is: they don't need an invitation.

You say there’s a sexual double standard. I believe you. You’re still a slut, and I still don’t respect you. I’m sorry if I’m not sufficiently empowering you, but you just aren’t relationship material. Now flip over.

No, I don’t have a condom. That’s why we gave you abortion rights, isn’t it?

The Compassionate Reactionary on… Gender

So you’re dissatisfied your genitals. Hey, who isn’t?

But you… you take it further than most. You’ve decided you’re a woman in a man’s body, or a man in a woman’s body, or maybe even a gay man in a straight woman’s body. Something crazy like that. Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you were mentally ill.

mental disorder (noun): a mental or bodily condition marked primarily by sufficient disorganization of personality, mind, and emotions to seriously impair the normal psychological functioning of the individual

Anyway, you’re not happy with how nature identified you, meaning what’s between your legs, so you’re self-identifying as something else. That’s nice. I hope your decision makes you happy. (See how supportive I’m being?) However:

You can’t tell me what you are. This is the kind of thing I’m talking about.

Well, you can tell me, but that doesn’t mean I have to believe you. I’m going to identify you however I like. Probably by how you look. If you don’t like it, don’t talk to me. Definitely don’t try to date me. Because if you look like a guy and talk like a guy but you say you’re a pretty little girl on the inside, well… I’m not going inside to check, if you know what I mean. Maybe your dick self-identifies as pussy, but mine doesn’t buy it.

Natalie Portman: 100 percent irrelevant. If you had just Googled "transgender," you would understand why I need this image right now.

You’ve got your freedom of association, so don’t associate with me — by which I mean, don’t try to fuck me. But I’ve got my freedom of thought and freedom of speech, so don’t try to fuck with me either.

Don’t worry. I’m just getting started.

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The SlutWalk debate rages on, and everywhere I look, I see the same fundamental fallacy — or, to be blunt, the same fundamental stupidity — from gender feminists. For example, from the Trent Arthur, a front-runner in the Most Biased Reporting competition: “No means no, unless you’re a ‘slut,'” by Hazel Wheeler.

That was the message sent out on January 24, 2011, when the Toronto Police addressed community members at a safety forum at York University’s Osgoode Hall. The comment put forth by one of the officers, that women should “avoid dressing like sluts in order to not be victimized,” has caused outrage throughout the Osgoode community and beyond, and has made national news headlines.

Meanwhile, in the real world, the police officer was actually pointing out that if you don’t dress in a manner designed to make men sexually aroused, it is less likely that you will attract the attention of a man whose arousal is greater than his respect for your rights plus his fear of the possible consequences of raping you (injury, prison, etc.).

I applaud this girl's choice of attire. However, it puts her at a higher risk of being sexually assaulted.

The fundamental stupidity is to misinterpret this as “if you are a slut, then you don’t have any rights, and your assailant should not suffer any consequences.” Where feminists get this idea is a mystery to me. Almost every man they’ve ever met wholeheartedly agrees that women have the rights they keep harping on about, and that rapists should be caught and punished — severely. (We also think they’re crazy for doubting us.)

But you should keep in mind that evil people do exist. You cannot reason with them. You cannot make them empathize. You can only try to avoid them.

Shark rape: As if we didn’t have enough to worry about

Think of them as sharks. You wouldn’t ask a shark to respect your right not to get eaten, would you? Don’t ask rapists to respect your right not to get raped. They don’t care. That’s what makes them rapists. Just stay away from them. Since feminists have proven to be childlike in their reading comprehension skills, I suppose I should emphasize that I wrote “rapists,” not “men in general.”

Dressing modestly probably helps avoid rape. It seems plausible. But it’s your choice. Nobody is trying to take away your right to dress like a slut or act like a slut or call yourself a big ol’ slut. No one has come remotely close to suggesting it. Feminists are all just being hysterical.

There are many myths surrounding sexual assault, one of them being that a woman’s clothing or behaviour may increase her chances of becoming a target.

Madness. Feminists expect us to believe that a woman’s behavior doesn’t increase her chance of becoming a target? So a young woman walking home alone, late at night, drunk, in a poor part of town, is just as likely to be raped as the same woman sitting at home with a couple of friends, at ten in the morning, in a rich neighborhood?

"Swimming increases your risk of being eaten by a shark? VIIIIIIICTIM BLAAAAAAAMING!"

Note: if your first instinct is to say “she could get raped too, here is an example of a woman who did everything right but got raped anyway,” then you don’t know the definition of “chance” or “likely.” Look them up. I’ll wait.

In a few words: she’s asking for it. This line of thinking, where a woman’s rape is at least partly her fault, has generally been widely discredited; the only person who is responsible for an assault is the perpetrator. Period.

Same fallacy. Same stupidity. No one said she’s asking for it — that’s a feminist delusion. They see sexism everywhere.

Meanwhile, in the real world, the actual line of thinking is: there are things you can do to make yourself safer. Fault and blame don’t enter into this thought. Again, almost every man you have ever met agrees that the perpetrator is responsible. They don’t like rapists any more than you do. They may not shriek about it all the time, but they do have girlfriends and wives and mothers and sisters and daughters and enough brain cells to make the necessary connections. On the other hand, the few exceptions to the male rule will not be convinced otherwise, by you or anyone else. Period.

Wheeler writes: “no one should equate enjoying sex with attracting sexual assault.” The good news is, no one is. The bad news (for feminism) is, they are equating attracting sexual assault with attracting sexual assault.

Rape is about sex

The implications of these ideas are that men are mindless, sex-crazed animals, and that rape is born from a desire to have sex. If I were a man, I would take serious offense to the former, and to address the latter: rape is not about sex, but rather power and control.

Meanwhile, in the real world, the actual implication is that men are not one-dimensional beings. There is a great deal of variety among men: in height, weight, intelligence, sex drive, and even moral scruples. Acknowledge this variety and understand which end of which spectrum you need to be worried about, instead of screaming at the opposite end about sluts.

Much more important is acknowledging that rape is about sex. This is perhaps the most obviously true statement we can make about rape. Stephen Pinker, for one, has thoroughly debunked the feminist power-and-control myth in his book The Blank Slate, as I mentioned in an earlier post. Consider date rape, for instance: “Most people agree that women have the right to say no at any point during sexual activity, and that if the man persists he is a rapist — but should we also believe that his motive has instantaneously changed from wanting sex to oppressing women?”

"I want to have sex with you, but if you say no, I will stop wanting sex, and start wanting to oppress all women everywhere... which, coincidentally, I will accomplish by having sex with you."

I will list some more of his (fairly obvious) reasons why rape is about sex, not power or control.

  1. Rapists “rarely inflict a serious or fatal injury, which would preclude conception and birth.” This is not consistent with the power-and-control theory.

    Note: if your first instinct is to say “rapists are violent, here is an example of a violent rapist,” then you don’t know what “rarely” means.

  2. Rapists are “overwhelmingly young men, the age of the most intense sexual competitiveness.” Also not consistent with the power-and-control theory.

    Note: if your first instinct is to say “old men commit rape too, here is one old rapist,” then you don’t know what “overwhelmingly” means.

  3. “Victims of rape are mostly in the peak reproductive years for women, between thirteen and thirty-five,” as if we needed to be told, “with a mean in most data sets of twenty-four. Though many rape victims are classified as children (under the age of sixteen), most of these are adolescents, with a median age of fourteen. The age distribution is very different from that of victims of other violent crimes, and is the opposite of what would happen if rape victims were picked for their physical vulnerability [younger or older] or by their likelihood of holding positions of power [older].”

    Note: if your first instinct is to say anything other than “I agree,” then you don’t know the meaning of “mostly,” “most,” “mean,” “median,” “distribution,” or “likelihood.”

  4. Although rape is found in all human societies, “[c]ountries with far more rigid [traditional] gender roles, such as Japan, have far lower rates of rape” than less patriarchal countries, including the United States of America. So much for the evils of patriarchy.

    Again: “rates.” Please consult your dictionary.

Feminist sanity

You don’t have to take my word for it, though. Let’s ask a feminist. An equity feminist, that is: Camille Paglia, to be precise. Twenty years ago she made exactly the same point I did yesterday. (A clear case of time-travel plagiarism — as if shark rape wasn’t bad enough.)

For a decade, feminists have drilled their disciples to say, “Rape is a crime of violence but not sex.” This sugar-coated Shirley Temple nonsense has exposed young women to disaster. Misled by feminism, they do not expect rape from the nice boys from good homes who sit next to them in class. …

These girls say, “Well, I should be able to get to get drunk at a fraternity party and go upstairs to a guy’s room without anything happening.” And I say, “Oh, really? And when you drive your car to New York City, do you leave your keys on the hood?” My point is that if your car is stolen after you do something like that, yes, the police should pursue the thief and he should be punished. But at the same time, the police — and I — have the right to say to you, “You stupid idiot, what the hell were you thinking?”

You stupid idiots, what the hell are you thinking? Why are you doing this?

Why they are doing this, and what they are really doing

From the original article:

SlutWalk is not about hate, nor seeing the offending officer fired, but rather demanding accountability from the Toronto Police Force, since, in [SlutWalk co-founder Heather Jarvis’] view, “they allowed him to go out as a representative, so his actions speak to the lack of training in dealing with rape culture and these sorts of stereotypes.”

SlutWalk is about feminist lies and willful ignorance. It is only making Toronto less safe for women. Congratulations, Heather, you’ve taught the police not to be honest about rape risk factors. (Actually, they already knew that, but you’ve hammered the point home.) They know you will not abide reality, if reality says: “you may do as you please, but I will impose consequences on you.”

There is no cause for alarm. Feminists assure me, walking alone through this park at night cannot possibly increase your chances of being assaulted.

Bring it on home, Heather.

“This is something that people want and need. Yes, there is criticism, and there always will be, but hundreds of people are showing their support for this initiative, and I think that speaks strongly to something that people are sick and tired of and want to do something about.”

Sadly, they’re not doing anything to stop rape or to help rape victims. All they’re doing is suppressing information — information that might actually do some good — in order to advance their slut-positive, sex-worshiping, reality-denying, criminally irresponsible gender feminist ideology.

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Apparently this SlutWalk phenomenon is much bigger than I initially thought — and much crazier, and much more harmful to women. You can read more in the Excalibur, in the Trent Arthur, at Sexlife Canada, and at thestar.com.

What will you find? Thousands of sluts (their word, not mine) united in condemning a man for saying something undeniably true out of a desire to protect them, and all committing the exact same fallacy: just because you want to be able to behave any way you like without consequences — in or out of your bedroom — doesn’t mean you can. You don’t have to like reality, but you do have to live in it.

Every time a feminist lies that rape is about power, not sex, and every time she meets useful information with victim-blaming hysteria, she is making the world a little less safe for women. This kind of feminism, gender feminism, is undoubtedly doing real harm to women — as opposed to hypothetical harm, like the notion that rape victims will only come forward if no one ever says out loud what we all know to be true; namely, that for any given crime, there is a list of optional behaviors that definitely increase your chances of becoming a victim of that crime.

Don’t worry, though. Thanks to that feminist, no rape victim will ever forget it wasn’t her fault she was assaulted as she walked home at 3 am, alone, drunk, and wearing her awesome new miniskirt. She knew exactly what she was doing. She was armed with the knowledge that rape isn’t about sex, so how could her revealing clothing have anything to do with it? It just doesn’t make sense. The man who attacked her was clearly seeking power and control over women. His only motivation was furthering the goals of the global patriarchal conspiracy (the same conspiracy that mysteriously failed to deny American and Canadian women the right to vote, go to school, etc.). Next week, he’ll probably rape an 80-year-old grandmother at lunch time.

Go ahead, the gender feminists will say. Do the same thing tomorrow night. Or don’t, it makes no difference. Even if you stay home with Granny, you’re just as likely to be the victim of sexual assault. After all, patriarchal control isn’t limited to any particular time of the day, or place in the city, or kind of woman.

And above all else, anyone who disagrees is victim blaming.

If you think you missed some of my sarcasm, please read my previous post and the comments on it, where I lay out my positions on the matters of rape, women’s rights, blame assignation, causal relationships in human behavior, sexy schoolgirl sluts, and vicious grizzly bears, among other things.

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Hatred is Unamusement Park’s ongoing five-part documentary on the War on Hate, a war which — strangely enough — is being waged by the most hateful and malicious elements of our society. Last time we considered the strange case of John Derbyshire, whose thoughtful remarks on race differences in intelligence were interpreted as a “Racism 101” lecture delivered by a “white supremacist,” illustrating the stupidity — as well as the hatred and malice — of the so-called “anti”-racists, who are actually merely anti-white.

We also stuck our heads into the coma ward of race denialism to check for signs of brain activity in one or two patients. Alas, none were detected.

Fun times were had by all. Today, though… today is going to get ugly. Today, we’re hunting big game. Today, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. Today… another animal metaphor.

Today, we gird our loins for battle, because our loins is the first place that our next target is going to aim for. Today, our fearless documentary crew covers the most vicious, brutal, and ultimately pointless battlefield in the War on Hate.

It's a metaphorical Vietnam, with slightly less drug use. (All due respect to our veterans.)

Today… goddamn it, I’m so excited, I can’t even say it!

FEMINISM

Today we’re talking about girls. Don’t get too excited. For once it’s not gratuitous hot French girls.

"You... you don't want me anymore? I am so sad." :(

Of course we still want you, gratuitous hot French girl. In fact, we’ll desperately need a dose of your European femininity and general sexiness when we’re done here, because today we’re talking about feminist girls.

Since this my very first post wholly devoted to the dreadful subject, I’m going to treat it like spaghetti: throw a bunch of angry sex-conscious women at a wall and see if they stick. No, that’s not quite right. Let’s just say I’m going to strip down my rhetoric, whip out my toolbox of reactionary politics, and shoot my hateful ideas right in their faces.

There’s got to be a better metaphor for that…

Fuck tha Police (not literally)

Our doomed expedition begins at a curious post by feminist blogger iamcharli, entitled “FYI: My Clothes are Not an Invitation to Rape Me” (February 20 2011).

If you haven’t read it about it already, there was a cop from Toronto that recently spoke at a campus safety information session and said women can avoid being sexually assaulted by not dressing like “a slut.”

Indeed he did. A law enforcement officer, whose job it is to protect women from being raped (among other things), pointed out that women may be able to avoid this by not dressing in a manner specifically designed to arouse men. After all, rape is about sex. It’s about a woman (usually) who doesn’t want sex, from a man (usually) who does and is sufficiently motivated to get it anyway; in other words, whose desire for sex with that woman is greater than his fear of injury or prison, and greater than whatever respect for her wishes he might have. So-called slutty dress does not reduce the man’s fears, but it does increase his desire, and very likely reduces his respect as well.

Not saying it should. Just saying it might.

I wonder if I have any images on my hard drive that could illustrate my point…

"I'm not increasing your arousal, am I? I am? Oh NO!" (pouts)

Why, then, are students and staff at Osgoode Hall Law School “demanding an apology and explanation from the Toronto Police Service”, according to the article in the Excalibur? Why are feminists now marching in the streets in a ridiculous protest they’re calling the Toronto SlutWalk?

“I’m appalled by the comment that the police officer has made saying that women should avoid dressing like sluts, and I think it goes to show the inherent misogyny and lack of education,” said Selvasivam, York Federation of Students (YFS) executive.

“I think the officer should be very seriously reprimanded for the comment.”

Misogyny? The word means “the hatred of women by men.” The officer was trying to help women avoid sexual assault. That was his whole reason for being at the campus safety information session. He even knew the risk — in our feminist-loving, hate-hating society — of giving out too much useful information: “I’ve been told I shouldn’t say this,” he said, right before he said it anyway. (Well played, sir.) Who could accuse this man of hating women? Who could be that irrational?

Feminists, that’s who.

As for the officer’s lack of education, he may not have a degree from the Osgoode Hall Law School, but I’m sure he’s familiar with the reality of rape in the city of Toronto. The police aren’t taking these complaints against one of their own seriously, are they?

Toronto police spokesperson Constable Wendy Drummond confirmed the incident has been brought to the attention of senior officials and is currently under investigation.

“[This is] definitely something that we take very seriously. This matter […] has been brought to the attention of our professional standards unit and is something we will be looking into,” she said. … “We are of the position that if these comments were made, it is definitely something that we will [act on],” she added.

Oh.

That slut deserved to get eaten by bears

Do not be alarmed! He is only here to illustrate a point. Not to rape anybody.

Ronda Bessner, Osgoode assistant dean of the Juris Doctor Program, was the information session attendee who contacted the police about the remark, asking for a written apology and an explanation. Perhaps she can explain why.

Bessner argued that such comments make it difficult for victims dealing with sexual assault because they make them feel uncomfortable going to the police for help.

“I think the problem with the constable’s conduct was that he was blaming the victim,” she said.

Blaming the victim? Curious. I suppose if he had told them they can avoid being eaten by bears if they stay out of forests, he would be blaming the victims of bear attacks.

There is a crucial difference between acknowledging a cause and blaming the victim. The officer was acknowledging a cause: women whose outfits are designed to turn men on, are at a higher risk of attracting a rapist; thus their choice of outfit is a partial cause of their rape. If he had wanted to blame some victims, he would have said something like this.

I’m supposed to tell you about how not to get raped or some shit, but I’m not gonna do that. You know why? ‘Cause if you get raped, it’s your own goddamn fault! You were asking for it, with your slutty clothes and your lip gloss and your hair all done up! You wanted it!

[stunned silence]

You all deserve to get raped!

"Slut! SLUT! Feel the wrath of my police-stick, slut!"

iamcharli elaborates on the horrors of victim blaming. “Dear Mr. Officer,” she writes, probably facetiously,

I don’t care if I’m wearing the sluttiest outfit or a skimpy top or if I’m totally naked. [Hot.] What I choose to wear does NOT, by ANY means, give anyone the right to sexually assault me. My clothing or how I act or what I’ve had to drink, doesn’t excuse a man from sexually assaulting me. My slutty outfit is NOT an open invitation for a man to rape me.

Curiouser and curiouser. I searched the article in vain for the part where the officer says “if you wear slutty clothes, you waive your legal right not to be raped.” I thought he was saying, “if you wear slutty clothes, you are more likely to be raped (because of how rapists choose their victims, in my experience as a police officer), and I might not be around to protect you, and all the legal rights in the world aren’t going to mean jack shit if he really, really wants to have sex with you.” Or words to that effect.

I should do one of these campus safety information sessions! I’m so good at informing women.

Consider a naked college girl

At this juncture, I pictured an attractive female college student walking around downtown Toronto naked. I did this for strictly scientific purposes, of course. I imagined her drinking fifteen Cosmos, then walking home alone. Now, I fully agree that her clothing (or lack thereof), how she acts, and what she drinks, don’t excuse any man from sexually assaulting her. Her hypothetical assailant is 100% responsible, legally and morally and ethically and theologically and whatever other ways you can be responsible, for his own actions. And she certainly didn’t send out invitations, open or otherwise, asking for interested rapists to ambush her as she stumbles her way home through various dark alleys and unlit parks.

Nevertheless, I can think of at least three things she did in this scenario that almost certainly increased her chances of being assaulted. I am not blaming the hypothetical naked drunk victim; I am simply acknowledging causes. She had three choices to make, and every time, she chose the one more likely to lead to her assault.

Of course — I think this goes without saying — anyone who assaults her should be punished exactly as if she had worn a snowsuit, drank nothing but vitamin water, and driven home in a tank with Batman riding shotgun and the 82nd Airborne Division as escort. Still, if she had made those choices, it wouldn’t be an issue, would it?

"Let's bring some democracy to these rapists — in the form of flaming-hot death from above." (Again, all due respect...)

Plus, she’d be going home with Batman. That’s got to count for something, right?

Rape: What’s it all about?

Bessner goes on.

“He’s also not making victims feel safe to go to the police. It’s quite astounding that in 2011 that you hear comments like that from a professional.”

Bessner stressed the importance of officers having proper knowledge about sexual assault cases.

“I think it’s really important that the police […] receive appropriate training on sexual assault, so that statements like this are never made and that they understand the dynamics of sexual assault.”

How low does your opinion of women have to be, that you think a police officer recommending modest clothing will scare them away from reporting rape to the police? I thought we were talking about law school students, not children. And the officer seems to understand the real “dynamics of sexual assault” quite well. He just doesn’t buy into the feminist slogans about rape and power.

iamcharli spells it out for us.

Someone needs to take the time to educate this cop about the facts and reasons behind rape. Rape is violent. Rape is not about sex it’s about control and power.

There it is: rape is not about sex, it’s about control and power. Hardly a novel concept: in 1993, the United Nations declared that “rape is an abuse of power and control in which the rapist seeks to humiliate, shame, embarrass, degrade, and terrify the victim.” Fucking an otherwise unobtainable woman? Never even occurred to him, officer! He was too busy with the terrifying and shaming and all that other stuff.

The power theory of rape originated in gender feminist Susan Brownmiller’s 1975 book, Against Our Will, in which she wrote that “[rape] is nothing more or less than a conscious process of intimidation by which all men keep all women in a state of fear” (emphasis in original). Well, that doesn’t sound crazy at all!

Of all the ludicrous left-wing postmodern blank-slate myths, this one is certainly the most dangerous for women, so it should be the first target of attack by feminists, not one of their core beliefs. Steven Pinker demolishes it, and many other myths about sex and gender, in Chapter 18 of The Blank Slate: The Modern Denial of Human Nature.

Think about it. [Oh, if only they would!] First obvious fact: Men often want to have sex with women who don’t want to have sex with them. They use every tactic that one human being uses to affect the behavior of another: wooing, seducing, flattering, deceiving, sulking, and paying. Second obvious fact: Some men use violence to get what they want, indifferent to the suffering they cause. …

A rapist always risks injury at the hands of the woman defending herself. In a traditional society, he risks torture, mutilation, and death at the hands of her relatives. In a modern society, he risks a long prison term. [Score one for traditional society.] Are rapists really assuming these risks as an altruistic sacrifice to benefit the billions of strangers that make up the male gender? … If [encouraging rape to consciously keep women down] were men’s tactic, why would they have made rape a crime in the first place?

He goes on — it wouldn’t be necessary in a sane world, of course, but Pinker knows we don’t live in one — to prove that rape is not, in fact, about power or control. It really is about sex. For one thing,

date rape is a particularly problematic case for the not-sex theory. Most people agree that women have the right to say no at any point during sexual activity, and that if the man persists he is a rapist — but should we also believe that his motive has instantaneously changed from wanting sex to oppressing women?

"I want to have sex with you, but if you say no, I will stop wanting sex, and start wanting to oppress all women everywhere... which, coincidentally, I will accomplish by having sex with you." Makes sense to me.

It’s difficult not to type out the whole damn chapter and list the many sources it cites, but that would make my own half-baked ideas unnecessary, and we can’t have that. Anyway, I highly recommend the book, and not just for feminists.

When I’m sexually aroused, I become an uncontrollable werewolf

Of all iamcharli’s baffling remarks, this is perhaps the most baffling of all. The bafflingest, if you will.

Rape is not about what I decide to wear. I’m not sure when we all starting thinking that if a man is sexually aroused he becomes this uncontrollable monster and can’t stop himself. Men are not animals. We should be able to hold them to a higher standard.

Let me spell it out for the feminist who couldn’t be bothered to think rationally about an issue which is hugely important to women. Arousal, fear, respect for women, and all the other things men feel, are not goddamn light switches. Nobody is claiming your slutty clothes are going to switch on his arousal, switch off his fear of injury or prison, and switch off his respect for you, making him “this uncontrollable monster.” They are going to increase his arousal, very likely decrease his respect, and do nothing to his fear of injury or prison — unless, of course, your slutty outfit features a hunting knife and barbed wire accessories, which is not a bad idea at all.

Not likely to be a victim of anything, anywhere, at any time.

Go ahead, hold men to any standard you want. The ancient subroutines in their reptilian hindbrains will whir and spin regardless, and if they hit the right — or rather wrong — combination of hormones and neurotransmitters and… whatever, they are going to attempt to assault you. Yes, I know, this means we don’t have free will. Live with it.

Instead of saying stupid shit like “he’s blaming the victim” and “rape is about power” and “what I choose to wear does not give you the right to sexually assault me,” and marching around town proclaiming how proud you are to be a slut and how you would never give up dressing slutty even if it means making yourself a target for rapists, instead of that, why don’t you try to understand the chain of events that leads to a sexual assault — a chain of events that depends very much on the victim’s appearance and behavior; a chain of events which the police officer whose life you’re destroying is quite familiar with. Then ask yourself how you can avoid it.

This image is not strictly relevant, but can I just say how pleased I am to be talking about this instead of black people?

Manning up

Oh, she’s not done yet. Darn. That would have been a good place to stop.

How can we be ok with a police officer who has taken an oath to upload the law has the audacity to say something as sexist and insulting as, women can help prevent their own sexual assault if they cover up more?

Sexist and insulting — good grief. These words, like misogyny, have lost all meaning. Let’s try her reasoning with other crimes and other designated victim groups.

  • “How can we be OK with a police officer who has taken an oath to upload the law, but has the audacity to say something as sexist and insulting as ‘women can help prevent the theft of their own property if they lock up the house when they leave more’?”
  • “How can we be OK with a police officer who has taken an oath to upload the law, but has the audacity to say something as homophobic and insulting as ‘gay men can help prevent their getting AIDS if they wrap up their dicks more’?”
  • “How can we be OK with a police officer who has taken an oath to upload the law, but has the audacity to say something as racist and insulting as ‘black men can help prevent their own murder if they don’t deal crack cocaine in the ghetto… more’?”

Robbers, rapists, rival crack dealers, and retroviruses: deep down, they’re all just manifestations of a biological imperative, acted out by soulless molecules.

This needs to stop. More men need to man up and be part of the fight to end sexual violence.

Well, I tried. Somehow I don’t think this is what she had in mind.

And now it’s time for me to bid you adieu.

"I noticed you are speaking French. Does zis mean you have forgiven me?" :)

Appendix: Rape statistics

“1 in 4 women will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime,” iamcharli declares. Not this shit again, I silently groan.

There is a great deal of debate about rape statistics. As a rule, anytime someone says “one in three,” “one in five,” or (especially) “one in four,” they’re full of shit. There is no rape epidemic of these proportions. If there were, it would be a national emergency — real apocalyptic martial-law stuff. Those figures do not agree with reality.

I have no desire to discuss rape statistics; it is enough for my thesis that rape of women by men happen, and that it involve sex. Therefore I will merely point out that Heather Mac Donald addresses the myth of campus rape in her appropriately titled article “The Campus Rape Myth.”

Adieu!

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Today the Internet’s #1 source for racial blasphemy and incitement to genocide turns two months old. You can’t see it from where you’re sitting, but I just set off three thousand fireworks —

— in the general direction of a black orphanage.

Hooray!

Sadly, one of those months was February, the shortest and therefore gayest month. Why do you think we let black people have it? Twenty-eight days of black history is enough, thank you. And don’t even get me started on leap years. Last time I swear they tried to come up with a new civil rights hero to fill in the extra day. Her name was Posa Rarks and she refused to sit on the back of a tandem bicycle.

I feel somewhat like a cat who’s just had his birthday cake confiscated. The only thing that could make me feel better would be a picture of exactly that, but where would I possibly —

ALL BETTER!

I feel for you, Birthday lol-Cat. I really do.

Birth of a Blog: The First Two Glorious Months: A Retrospective

Let us now commemorate this monumental event in the history of race relations — bigger than I have a dream; bigger than the Emancipation Proclamation; bigger even than the first time someone said: “Hey, you know what would be great? If black people did our jobs for free.” Here are some of the good times we’ve shared and fond memories we’ve made together, you ungrateful shitheads.

  • Welcome to the Politics of Equality. It’s not science, and it’s ruining everybody’s shit.
  • Savage beating, torture, rape, and murder — or, as the black defendant puts it, “rough fantasy sex.”
  • I hear there’s a bunch of crazies living in caves, sticking bombs in their underwear in between jerking off to 72 wide-eyed, non-menstruating virgins. Oh yeah, and they want to take over the world.
  • If my mother were starving, I would care enough to do something about it. If her mother were starving, I would still do something about it, but I’d complain a lot and make her feel guilty. If my mother’s cat were starving, I’d be all over that situation — shit would get done.
  • Your horoscope: while pondering a Zen koan, you will become disoriented and aroused, and fall down an open manhole. On the way down, your engorged member will ensnare a ripe strawberry, which will taste unusually good.
  • Turns out there’s no reproductive advantage to getting mad about a little girl-on-girl action. God bless you, science.
  • If I were a racist, I wouldn’t stand here debating with you. I’d just call you a “nigger-lover” and get on with my day.
  • Fighting the national epidemic of rabid woodchucks mauling picnickers.
  • This conversation doesn’t end with me saying “and so you see, that’s why Hitler was so cool.” I don’t get my statistics from a little-known appendix to The Turner Diaries.
  • A black woman has been convicted of tampering with records, for doing nothing more than tampering with records? It’s the next Posa Rarks!
  • Your emotional response to an idea tells us nothing about that idea’s validity — unless of course the idea was that people never get offended by ideas.
  • Yes, yes. Your awed silence and slack-jawed dribbling are quite appropriate for the magnitude of my genius.
  • The NBA is obviously discriminating against Asians, who as everyone knows are just as athletically gifted as — oh, wait. It sounds incredibly stupid when I put it that way.
  • Fanatical anti-white bigot Tim Wise makes his first (but sadly not last) appearance.
  • “Oh Unamused, you sexy devil. I bet you’re just trying to steal all the mayonnaise sandwiches in the world and seal them up in a giant climate-controlled mayonnaise sandwich vault under Lake Michigan where no one can get at them.”
  • White people are smart, responsible, polite, peaceful, and law abiding, beautiful, inventive, artistic, and nice to all the other races! Why not be nice back?
  • People are like noodles: they both stick together, they both taste delicious, and they’re both racist.
  • Happy Valentine’s Day! Go fuck your hot cousin!
  • I’m such a sucker for French girls and their je ne sais quoi’s and their voulez-vous couchez avec moi’s and their penchant pour les blowjobs.
  • Sluts and players, feminists and faggots, shrieking harpies and supplicating eunuchs. Oh, my!
  • If you want to really cash in on the diversity sweepstakes, you should say your child is a black/black/black/gay/crippled/black hermaphrodite. Kid’s gonna get teased some, though.
  • The “logic” of gun control would make Aristotle weep. Apparently, soooo many criminals are using guns against defenseless victims that we, uh — we can’t allow citizens to carry guns.
  • Unamusement Park is your source for all French things, including hot girls, typical and ordinary girls, hot “fuks,” sexy “grels,” women’s faces, traditional dresses, ethnic heritage, and of course… boobs.
  • “I demanded to be transferred at once to an exotic particle physics research facility in a cooler climate where I would not be subjected to a continuous barrage of monsoons, tidal waves, sunstroke, tropical skin diseases, and the incursions of those abominable monkeys.” (Not Japan.)
  • Maybe whites won’t need that race war after all! Awwwwww. Now I’m a sad panda bear — the least racist of all bears!
  • Tonight: poor, helpless racial minorities and the good, liberal whites who fuck them.
  • A rather unfortunate catastrophic total failure of the reactor’s containment shields. (Not Japan.)
  • Bullshit nonsense gibberish like “critical race theory” and “critical white studies” are now considered legitimate fields of research.
  • It’s all pointless. Everything is pointless. Fuck it. [kills self]
  • Isn’t it time the Crusaders Against Racism left their ziggurats and wrenched open some poor woman’s mouth to see if it’s full of racism?
  • We support your right to rainbows and sunshine and kittens, and ice cream for dinner every day!
  • Bowling, speed skating, and the luge: it’s a black-on-white showdown!
  • Your unique environment includes getting in a freak zeppelin accident after winning the lottery.
  • “It’ll lick the salt from my cerebral cortex! Dangle my genitals for Christmas decorations!” (Possibly Japan…)
  • Today’s race-conscious African-American male seeks to overcome historical barriers to inter-racial unions, as well as discriminatory female consent practices.
  • Minorities are our friends with special benefits.
  • If you are a black person arguing for the cognitive superiority of your race, it helps your case if you (a) support your claim with scientific data and coherent argumentation, rather than a plagiarized compilation of remarks by 2,000-year-old architects and 1,300-year-old grammarians; and (b) are capable of spelling three-syllable words correctly.
  • I’m too hateful for your blog, too hateful for your blog, your blog’s going to leave me./I’m too hateful for my shirt, too hateful for my shirt, so hateful it hurts. (Don’t watch this.)

What glorious months they were! The dizzying highs! The terrifying lows! The creamy middles! The overuse of punctuation! Especially! Exclamation! Marks!

Who was I arguing with then?

Unamusement Park would not be possible — actually, it would be possible, but a whole lot less fun for me, if not for the generous contributions of random Internet losers, who have donated their ignorant, inconsistent, idiotic opinions to fuel my white-hot white rage and give me something to make fun of when I can’t think of anything substantial to write. Which is nearly always.

On this day, these men shall be honored for their generosity in the only truly appropriate way: by first insulting, then ignoring them.

By popular demand: a gratuitous French girl

What do you think, gratuitous French girl? Please, share with us your thoughts on Unamusement Park’s two-month anniversary, or as I like to call it, “International Call-a-Random-Black-Person-‘Nigger’ Day.”

Very gratuitous and extremely French.

Je pense que — oh, I am so sorry. En Anglais, oui? I believe zat zere is nothing sexier zan a man who can rebut a socioeconomic theory of race differences in intelligence. I would love to give him several hours of — er, you do not have zis word in your language. It is a special secret French sexy thing zat is taught to all our sexiest young girls. It is to regular sex what regular sex is to hammering nails into your face. I will particularly enjoy zis because Unamused has such a huge —”

Alright, thank you, that’s plenty.

“But I was just about to tell zem about your enormous —”

THANK YOU, gratuitous French girl. You can go now.

“But… you promised me a croissant. May I please have my croissant now?”

We close on the gentle sounds of a gratuitous French girl nibbling happily on her delicious croissant.

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It’s announcements day.

Unamusement Park is now uncensored for coarse language and nudity (not that there’s any of that). So you can say “fuck” and “shit” all you like, you fucking shitheads. However, use of the word “nigger” is still prohibited.

You n*ggers.

Along those lines, for those of you who missed it, this week’s theme was: Happy Valentine’s Day! Go fuck your hot cousin!

A record number of hits today, almost half of them on one particular post. And a record number of clicks, on one particular French honey. The things I would do to that jolie fille, you cannot imagine.

Hint: they are sex.

So what have we learned?

  1. Call your post “Hot white girls.”
  2. Link a hot French girl.
  3. Profit.

Also make sure Ferdinand Bardamu links you. Thanks, you magnificent bastard.

Speaking of unspeakable things, the little girl with pink hair makes me feel funny. Not in a bad way, I guess . . . just in a weird way. “It’s a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake”—yeah, I know what she really means, but that kind of consent won’t hold up in a court of law, will it? (Dual H/T: Riding with the King and In Mala Fide—you sick fucks.)

Pyrrhic victory: is there any other kind?

Finally, seriously, commenter DKH has some insights on affirmative action:

My company is a consulting engineering firm in Pennsylvania. We are highly qualified in the area of our expertise. We are locked out of nearly all City of Philadelphia work and a significant amount of state work because of the unfair Affirmative Action requirements.

. . . Affirmative Action is being abused today. It is a form of patronage not a form of positive training for minority and women business owners. Look at the statistics in Philadelphia and I suspect you will find that a few companies have become rich in the name of Affirmative Action but only a few have learned to compete in the real business world, moved on and opened a position for the next [Minority Business Enterprise/Woman Business Enterprise] company to have a chance.

As a citizen of this great country and a business owner who employs people in Pennsylvania, I feel it is about time all people and the companies they own are treated equally under the law – even white people!

What can be done? Or am I going to spend my entire working life in a racially outcast class unable to participate in the programs my tax dollars fund?

It’s time to end race-based affirmative action.

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Hot white girls

I got to quit drinking.

So it was coming up on Valentine’s Day and, being horny and looking forward to meeting some desperate women (I can smell them from miles away), I linked some girls in my post on white pride: Swedish, French, German, Italian, Canadian, and New Zealander, choosing white majority nations more or less at random. I ranked those countries by the number of clicks they got the next day:

  1. German
  2. Swedish
  3. Italian, French, Canadian
  4. New Zealander

Interestingly enough, this is also my own personal ranking. Or it would be, if I wasn’t such a sucker for French girls and their je ne sais quoi’s and their voulez-vous couchez avec moi’s and their penchant pour les blowjobs (Fuck. Yes.), bumping them up above those sexy Italians and those maple-syrupy Canadians. The expanded ranking system goes like this:

  1. white girls, precedence given to Germany, Sweden, and Switzerland, followed by France and Italy, then anywhere but America, then America
  2. Hispanic and Middle Eastern girls, as long as they look pretty white
  3. East Asian girls, as long as they’re not too Asian
  4. meh . . . obviously-non-white Hispanic and Middle Eastern girls (without the burka)
  5. uh . . . the other brown girls? I guess? Those would be Native American and South Asian—scraping the barrel here a bit
  6. black chicks
  7. fatties

What can I say? I don’t find black girls attractive. Never have. This has led to some awkward conversations.

FRIEND: Check out that black girl. She’s cute.

UNAMUSED: Meh. I guess.

FRIEND: What are you talking about?

UNAMUSED: I don’t like black chicks.

FRIEND?: You’re such a racist.

UNAMUSED: Don’t make me lynch you.

FRIEND??: I’m . . . white.

UNAMUSED: I have the rope right here.

FRIEND???: But that doesn’t even—

UNAMUSED: Right. Here.

Most of my friends seem to think my preferences for women are racist. (Yet we’re still friends—what does that say about them? Fucking racists.) What’s the problem here? I discriminate against fat women, ugly women, old women (meaning over 29), stupid women, really smart women, annoying women, women who bore me, women who don’t put out (bitch), women who give it up too easily (whore), women who only look good when I’m wasted, women who don’t swallow, women who swallow too much (I have a phobia), women who taste funny, women who have slept with my friends (exception: women who have slept with my female friends), and women who aren’t white. Well excuse me for having standards.

I used to think that a man’s (well, man-child’s) preference for one kind of girl or another was off-limits for political correctness. Sadly, this is no longer the case. Setting aside the most egregious violations of this ancient unwritten law, like the fat acceptance movement and the casual heterophobia of the gay-feminist alliance, it seems to be unacceptable to say “I like girls with pale skin.” How is that worse than liking tan girls? I mean, sure, I go a little further, what with the fanatical bigotry and all, but the principle is the same.

I also don’t like black music, and have been known to shout words to that effect (“NO BLACK MUSIC”) at social gatherings. Not infrequently.

Portland

An anonymous commenter on Steve Sailer’s post on Portland writes

Awesome, so how about this. Steve Sailer and his white nationalist readers can all migrate to Portland. We’ll get the 20% non-whites there to all agree to leave. From then on, Portland can become the white nationalist Utopia in America. Everyone else will agree that Portland should be 100% white. And finally, Steve Sailer will stop whining like a little bitch over and over and over again. He might even go back to working a normal job and doing something productive for society. Imagine that!

What a great idea! All the white people (plus the East Asians) who understand how much better off they would be without all these annoying (non-East Asian) minorities can go hang out in Portland! And if there’s too many of us, we can take a few other cities too, like New York, LA, Chicago, Pittsburgh, Miami, Austin . . . actually, you know what? It would be easier to just list the places minorities get to keep:

  • Harlem
  • South Central LA
  • Indian reservations
  • the alley behind my apartment where they sell their drugs
  • federal prison
  • the White House (LOL jk)
  • ?

Everything else is ours.

On a serious note, I pray for the day when white people will actually treat minorities the way they claim they’re being treated now.

Negro: I’m taking it back

That’s right. I’m taking it back. From now on, I’m not going to call them “people of color” or “blacks” or “African-Americans” or “Nubians” or whatever the fuck else they want to be called. I’m going to call them “Negroes.”

It’s a perfectly good word. Well, it was good enough for Martin Luther King, Jr., who liked the white girls too—high five bro. Psych! Ooooh got you. Anyway, it’s not as dated as “colored,” and it doesn’t piss people off like “nigger,” which I save for special occasions (street fights, drug deals gone bad, Bar Mitzvahs, receiving awards and commendations). So “Negro” it is.

I’m even going to capitalize it.

The Great Obsidian Debate (Part 9,000,000)

I am pleased to present a complete, unabridged, unedited account of my recent debate with typical, garden-variety Negro internet personality Obsidian on the subject of human biodiversity (HBD):

OBSIDIAN (O): I am ready to discuss things with you in a calm and dispassionate manner. Your serve.

UNAMUSED (U): Excellent. Let me begin with this: I respectfully submit that the average black IQ is approximately one standard deviation lower than the average white IQ, a claim which is supported by the following data—

O: Fuck you! Fucking cracker! I hate all you fucking crackers! White-skin-havin’ motherfuckers!

U: I don’t follow you, Mr. Obsidian.

O: Rise up, my black brothers, and kill the crackers wherever you find them! BLACK POWER!

U: Well now, good sir, I take exception to the tone of this—

O: Oh, oh, “I take exception to the tone of this—” NIGGA PLEASE. I will RAPE YOUR GRANDMOTHER UNTIL SHE HAS SUPER-AIDS.

U: Please, Obsidian, let’s keep our respective grandmothers out of this—

O: I KILL YOU NIGGA.

U: If the quality of your, er, argumentation does not improve, I’m afraid I’m going to close this debate.

O: BLAAARRGHGHALLARGHGHHG! HALF-JEW CENSOR A NIGGA! WHITE TERRORISTS AND IRISH PEOPLE, THEY BE KILLIN’ NIGGAS WITH STATE SUPPORT! OBAMA SUPPORTS AFFIRMATIVE ACTION! CLARENCE THOMAS! YOU FUNDED BY THE KKK! THE GLOVE DIDN’T FIT! LOLOL “FAIRNESS” AND “MERIT” LOLOLOLOLOLOLZ! WHITE WOMEN IS SEXUALLY IRRESPONSIBLE SO WHY AIN’T THEM BITCHES SEXUALLY IRRESPONSIBLE WITH ME! ALL SCHOOL SHOOTERS ARE WHITE EXCEPT ONE ASIAN AND ALSO THE ONES WHO ARE BLACK BUT THAT’S JUST RETRIBUTION FOR SLAVERY! PURCHASING STOLEN GOODS IS A CRIME BITCH THAT’S WHY MY MOMMA’S BOYFRIEND IS IN JAIL! BLACK PEOPLE CREATED ALL ART AND BEETHOVEN WAS A BROTHER! I MEAN BROTHA! SEE WHEN I TALK LIKE THAT IT MEANS I’M FROM THE STREET! I HAVE ALL THE BEST COMEBACKS! ANAL RAPE! SUCK MY BLACK COCK YOU WHITE DEVIL! I AM BLACK YODA! RAAAAAAAAAAH!

Obsidian went on to write out, in full, an apparently improvised and exceptionally graphic novella entitled Me and President Obama kill some crackas [sic] and suck each other’s dicks, in which—no, I’m going to leave it to your imagination. At this point, I deemed the debate unproductive, and closed it. To view Obsidian’s twelve thousand subsequent replies, please visit his website.

Here is a quiz

Here it is. I am a Sigma.

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