A good occasion to feel the anger rising. The speaker as well as her audience of women delight in the phantasy of men going downhill being turned into pariah, while women rise up to power and domination of society, all of it, for the next 100 years, at least.
Being born male will soon be seen as a birth-defect, one adherent to female supremacism prophesied on a youtube channel, gloating spitefully.
If you don’t feel like assassinating her, you suppress your gut reaction.
In complete indulgement, she is blessedly unaware of the glaring mischievousness of her every word and gesture, on the contrary, she actively denies the obvious by assuring the audience she is just collecting data and she has not yet come to any conclusion what is behind the demise of men, the end of men, even.
Prepare to rule the world, girls!
Intensely painful to note how she has coached her little daughter into the supremacist attitude. The poor girl twists in embarrassment while complying with her mothers assignment to explain to her brother and the bysitting father why boys drool and girls rule at school.
This is the same kind of embarrassment seen in children who have been coached by the mother to put down the father, telling him they do not want to have anything to do with him any longer.
The acting of illusionary authority and superiority in order to please the coach.
The pattern of all the girls and women who go along with the preaching and coaching of feminists. Vanity is radiating from the pores of the skin, a glow of pride engulfs them, a selfassuredness of a princess and a queen expecting deference and servility from the commoners, as her birthright.
The showdown is unavoidable. She is nothing else than a grotesquely pampered and radically spoiled brat. Incapable to respect men, not knowing how to love them, not prepared to love at all.
Selfelation, selfrighteousness, selfishness, circling around her own selfimage, at loss about how to leave that orbit and acknowledge the other, any other, as entitled to respect, consideration, autonomy, selfrealization. You are in this world to live up to my expectations, she proclaims, she believes, she makes herself believe, no matter what.
And the world at large? Made for them, waiting for their rule. A kingdom delivered as their inheritance. As if by magic, school, college, university, economy, management, income have all turned into her playing field, her Schlaraffenland, her Garden of Eden. All she has to do is pluck the fruits offered by the trees along the road of life.
She expects to work 18 hours, while her husband stays at home to care for the children, clean the house and cook dinner.
He’s so attentive, always welcoming her with a cocktail and a shower of compliments, when she comes home. She kisses the children goodnight, how peaceful their angelic sleep, the German Shepherd brings the evening paper, her husband lightening the candles and opening a bottle of exquisite French wine, looking so desirable in his Armani jeans and the Hugo Boss shirt, she wonders how he never fails to put on some unobtrusive yet so characteristic Guerlain Vetiver. On the right man it is definitely a provocative aphrodisiac.
He wouldn’t ever think of schwarzeneggering the Puertorico maid, he knows he couldn’t afford the designer clothes, the health insurance, the golf club, the weekend trips to Hawaii without her. In fact, he would barely make it on his own, probably living in some shack or in a trailer and paying for the groceries with food stamps.
Or so the myth goes, courtesy of Hanna Rosin.
Reality? The wild life in college, the partying, the rides. Then the boring long hours of meaningless office drudge, petty conferences, presentations, promotions, more drudges, more hours, conference, presentations, promotions. The executive lifestyle, fancy trattorias, fancy fitness clubs, fancy fashion sprees, shoes, bags, bars. And all the good men are gay or taken. Getting your brains fucked out of your head? Not without an overdose of tequilas and prosecco. And there is the recurrent problem of the morning after. Mr. Right? Never in sight. Always a fata morgana!
The cliché of the clock ticking away getting a grip on her.
Settle down with a boring jerk? Hypogamy? Mailorder sperm? Why does every candidate for building a family panic at the slightest insinuation of the most normal, common and ordinary desire of a woman? All douchebags, all perennial adolescents, drifters, cowards! Where are all the real men gone? Why does no one care to man up?
So she settles down with a second choice sperm donor, and treats him as exactly that. Only to find out he does not live up to her expectations, only to get rid of him, of the jerk he proves himself to be. Who, the fuck, needs a man, anyway. Can’t she not raise her child without him? Of course she can! This is the age of woman, hear her roar!
Thank God she has a good lawyer, she will squeeze the last penny out of the jerk, may he bleed, the pathetic loser!
Old age? Loneliness? Bitterness? Who cares, a woman is only as old as she decides to be! Her boob job was phantastic, can’t she compete with girls 10 years younger? Why should she complain? She owns her own house in a gated neighborhood, she drives a Mercedes, the aupair is reliable, she was invited to the board of the charity, her personal trainer is a treat, and her golf handicap is no doubt quite astounding!
A perfect life, isn’t it!