An overview of opinions and observations for the month.
Sunday, 30 September 2018
Friday, 28 September 2018
Feminism Supports Gynocentrism
I shall never tire of the irony of females citing inspirational Marilyn Monroe quotations, implying a relativity between themselves and her.
Born to a mother who suffered with paranoid schizophrenia and who had minimal involvement in her upbringing, Marilyn spent most of her childhood in and out of foster homes. She dropped out of education by choice, married at 16 years old and became a housewife, then spent the next few years flaunting her body as a pin-up model for income. She went onto abuse drugs and alcohol throughout her acting career which she secured by initiating a sexual relationship with an executive for a film studio. Progressing in the film industry by sleeping her way to the top, she went on to have two more failed marriages that both ended in divorce, suffered with anxiety and depression, then played the victim and refused to accept responsibility for her own actions. In a manner befitting of her life, she died of a drug overdose aged 36.
Well, she is clearly a great role model.
But the point I'm getting to is that in spite of the obvious abhorrence of Marilyn Monroe's life choices and conduct, she is still heralded as a champion of femininity to young females today. The fact that society does nothing to rebuke the fact is utterly bewildering, yet feeds into the narrative that I wanted to touch upon; women can do no wrong. It does not matter how abhorrently they conduct themselves, society will give them a bucketful of excuses and pardons for their transgressions.
Let's look at a publication from this year, and how they present Marilyn Monroe:
"Although vulnerable and complex, Marilyn was a strong woman who consistently fought for what she believed in. However, because of the confusion and stigma related to the word, it is highly unlikely that she would ever have considered herself a feminist." [The Girl: Marilyn Monroe, The Seven Year Itch, and the Birth of an Unlikely Feminist (c) 2018 by Michelle Morgan, Running Press]
It is as though society condones the life choices of Marilyn Monroe, and is happy to encourage females today to follow in her footsteps. Don't bother with a formal education. Flaunt your sexuality for money. Be sexually promiscuous. Have no respect for the sanctity of marriage. Abuse drugs and alcohol. Blame everyone else for your failings. Do these things, and society will still adore you, because you have a vagina and resultantly are absolved of all judgement by society.
This only goes to reinforce the obvious conclusion; females have the power. Feminist's will relentlessly screech about the patriarchy, and how females are disadvantaged by the way society functions. I do not believe this at all. As Esther Vilar once wrote in The Manipulated Man:
"By the age of twelve at the latest, most women have decided to become prostitutes. Or, to put it another way, they have planned a future for themselves which consists of choosing a man and letting him do all the work. In return for his support, they are prepared to let him make use of their vagina at certain given moments." - "Men have been trained and conditioned by women, not unlike the way Pavlov conditioned his dogs, into becoming their slaves. As compensation for their labours men are given periodic use of a woman's vagina."
It would not be so concerning if I didn't relate to the point. I am also quite sure you can assume how feminists view Esther Vilar? Yes, needless to say, Marilyn Monroe is regarded much more highly.
On the subject of females using men, let's take a look at marriage. Now marriage often begins with a proposal, whereby traditionally, a male will take a knee in a position of subservience, and humbly request a female to accept him. This gesture in and of itself demonstrates a submission of power by the male to the female, and thereby enforces gynocentrism. A male will feel empowered should the female accept his chivalrous sacrifices and will acquiesce to her every whim, no matter how banal or unreasonable, in a desperate attempt to retain his position of subservience. Accordingly, a female typically holds the power in any romantic relationship.
In a culture where society places so much emphasis on the dominant superiority of females, by valuing their well being, needs and wants ahead of that of males, it is starkly apparent that true equality would be more beneficial to males than females. This is why feminism does not equate to egalitarianism, but rather 'a la carte equality' whereby their only activism is in favour of reform to the benefit of females alone, and there is never endorsement for improvement in areas where men are clearly at a disadvantage.
To market feminism as equality is inherently deceitful. Feminism focuses on retaining the privileges of chivalrous conditioning, whilst also leveraging further benefits in areas of lower economic or societal importance than concerns that solely affect males.
In a society where females are absolved of all blame, heralded in spite of their failings, recipients of chivalry and sacrifice, and also hold all the power in romantic relationships; it isn't too difficult to understand why family courts rule in favour of females, thereby forcing males to sacrifice their involvement in child-rearing. After all, females are superior to males by extension of the above, and accordingly the male should be out toiling in the fields to support his family whilst the female is doted on and supported in her ivory tower.
If feminism truly wants equality, I'd be interested to see where they advocate in favour of family law reform to make 50/50 shared custody a mandatory standard. Until that day arrives, I'll be distancing myself from feminism and the hypocrisy it favours.
Born to a mother who suffered with paranoid schizophrenia and who had minimal involvement in her upbringing, Marilyn spent most of her childhood in and out of foster homes. She dropped out of education by choice, married at 16 years old and became a housewife, then spent the next few years flaunting her body as a pin-up model for income. She went onto abuse drugs and alcohol throughout her acting career which she secured by initiating a sexual relationship with an executive for a film studio. Progressing in the film industry by sleeping her way to the top, she went on to have two more failed marriages that both ended in divorce, suffered with anxiety and depression, then played the victim and refused to accept responsibility for her own actions. In a manner befitting of her life, she died of a drug overdose aged 36.
Well, she is clearly a great role model.
But the point I'm getting to is that in spite of the obvious abhorrence of Marilyn Monroe's life choices and conduct, she is still heralded as a champion of femininity to young females today. The fact that society does nothing to rebuke the fact is utterly bewildering, yet feeds into the narrative that I wanted to touch upon; women can do no wrong. It does not matter how abhorrently they conduct themselves, society will give them a bucketful of excuses and pardons for their transgressions.
Let's look at a publication from this year, and how they present Marilyn Monroe:
"Although vulnerable and complex, Marilyn was a strong woman who consistently fought for what she believed in. However, because of the confusion and stigma related to the word, it is highly unlikely that she would ever have considered herself a feminist." [The Girl: Marilyn Monroe, The Seven Year Itch, and the Birth of an Unlikely Feminist (c) 2018 by Michelle Morgan, Running Press]
It is as though society condones the life choices of Marilyn Monroe, and is happy to encourage females today to follow in her footsteps. Don't bother with a formal education. Flaunt your sexuality for money. Be sexually promiscuous. Have no respect for the sanctity of marriage. Abuse drugs and alcohol. Blame everyone else for your failings. Do these things, and society will still adore you, because you have a vagina and resultantly are absolved of all judgement by society.
This only goes to reinforce the obvious conclusion; females have the power. Feminist's will relentlessly screech about the patriarchy, and how females are disadvantaged by the way society functions. I do not believe this at all. As Esther Vilar once wrote in The Manipulated Man:
"By the age of twelve at the latest, most women have decided to become prostitutes. Or, to put it another way, they have planned a future for themselves which consists of choosing a man and letting him do all the work. In return for his support, they are prepared to let him make use of their vagina at certain given moments." - "Men have been trained and conditioned by women, not unlike the way Pavlov conditioned his dogs, into becoming their slaves. As compensation for their labours men are given periodic use of a woman's vagina."
It would not be so concerning if I didn't relate to the point. I am also quite sure you can assume how feminists view Esther Vilar? Yes, needless to say, Marilyn Monroe is regarded much more highly.
On the subject of females using men, let's take a look at marriage. Now marriage often begins with a proposal, whereby traditionally, a male will take a knee in a position of subservience, and humbly request a female to accept him. This gesture in and of itself demonstrates a submission of power by the male to the female, and thereby enforces gynocentrism. A male will feel empowered should the female accept his chivalrous sacrifices and will acquiesce to her every whim, no matter how banal or unreasonable, in a desperate attempt to retain his position of subservience. Accordingly, a female typically holds the power in any romantic relationship.
In a culture where society places so much emphasis on the dominant superiority of females, by valuing their well being, needs and wants ahead of that of males, it is starkly apparent that true equality would be more beneficial to males than females. This is why feminism does not equate to egalitarianism, but rather 'a la carte equality' whereby their only activism is in favour of reform to the benefit of females alone, and there is never endorsement for improvement in areas where men are clearly at a disadvantage.
To market feminism as equality is inherently deceitful. Feminism focuses on retaining the privileges of chivalrous conditioning, whilst also leveraging further benefits in areas of lower economic or societal importance than concerns that solely affect males.
In a society where females are absolved of all blame, heralded in spite of their failings, recipients of chivalry and sacrifice, and also hold all the power in romantic relationships; it isn't too difficult to understand why family courts rule in favour of females, thereby forcing males to sacrifice their involvement in child-rearing. After all, females are superior to males by extension of the above, and accordingly the male should be out toiling in the fields to support his family whilst the female is doted on and supported in her ivory tower.
If feminism truly wants equality, I'd be interested to see where they advocate in favour of family law reform to make 50/50 shared custody a mandatory standard. Until that day arrives, I'll be distancing myself from feminism and the hypocrisy it favours.
Tuesday, 25 September 2018
SJW's Are Cancer
For a long time I have been working hard at drowning out all the SJW bullshit that is constantly spewed in mainstream media. My biggest issue has been with the constant crying and complaining about everything; primarily things that don't matter. Recent examples include people picking fault with FRIENDS, and now even Adam Sandler in his older films is being targeted a problematic. All the movements, the protests, the pickets over bullshit that does not matter. Fabricating issues, finding problems where none exist just so they can feel important and cry about something to play the victim with their virtue signalling.
But as much as I try to drown it out, sometimes it cannot help but hit me in the fucking face like Thor staving my head in with Mjolnir.
What am I getting at? The Witcher Netflix series.
I have been soooooo fucking hyped to see this, so eager to see how they handle the lore and narrative that I have become so invested in and love so much. The beautiful Polish folklore, the Eastern European and Slavic culture. Make no mistakes, I fucking adore The Witcher; hell, when I played The Witcher III it catapulted it straight to the forefront of my favourite games of all time. And it's stayed there threatened only by TESV Skyrim. The escapades and adventures of the Butcher of Blaviken, the amazing Ciri and the mysterious Yennefer. This story that dragged me in, emotionally fucked me, and spat me back out leaving me wanting more. CDPR really set a high bar, and when I read the books by Andrzej Sapkowski I could really appreciate the time, effort and scrutiny that had gone into fully realising the Witcher universe in the games.
And here we are now, with you perhaps wondering where I'm going with this?
Well, the SJW's and the Forced Diversity Squad have seemingkly taken a royal shit all over the franchise that I love so much. A recently leaked casting advert for the show stipulated they are looking for a strictly BAME (Black, Asian, Ethnic Minority) to play the role of Ciri. Now to some this likely seems an overreaction, but for anyone fully versed and immersed in the lore of the series, and the Witcher universe will agree, that this is fucking horseshit.
Let's take a quick look at the description of Ciri from the Witcher books:
"Now it’s our turn, thought Geralt. He was right. The officer stared at Ciri. His eyes shone through the opening in his visor, watching everything without missing a detail. Her paleness. The scar on her cheek. The blood on her sleeve and hands. The white streaks in her hair."
And now at the CDPR representation of Ciri in the Witcher game series:
Why the fuck would you cast a BAME to play this role?!
The Witcher is set in medieval Poland; a heavily Slavic culture with little to no representation of BAME's. That is not racist, and there is nothing racist about expecting the Netflix series to stay true to the origins and lore that are already established in the universe. Much like casting Frodo Baggins as a Chinese man, or casting a white lady to portray the Black Panther. It's retarded, and it's purpose is nothing more than forced diversity into a series that does not require it.
So yes, today I am pissed off at SJW's. Today I am largely considering the possibility that I will not be bothering to watch the Netflix show I had been so hyped up to see because all the way through I will be thinking "this is such bullshit".
Fuck SJW's.
But as much as I try to drown it out, sometimes it cannot help but hit me in the fucking face like Thor staving my head in with Mjolnir.
What am I getting at? The Witcher Netflix series.
I have been soooooo fucking hyped to see this, so eager to see how they handle the lore and narrative that I have become so invested in and love so much. The beautiful Polish folklore, the Eastern European and Slavic culture. Make no mistakes, I fucking adore The Witcher; hell, when I played The Witcher III it catapulted it straight to the forefront of my favourite games of all time. And it's stayed there threatened only by TESV Skyrim. The escapades and adventures of the Butcher of Blaviken, the amazing Ciri and the mysterious Yennefer. This story that dragged me in, emotionally fucked me, and spat me back out leaving me wanting more. CDPR really set a high bar, and when I read the books by Andrzej Sapkowski I could really appreciate the time, effort and scrutiny that had gone into fully realising the Witcher universe in the games.
And here we are now, with you perhaps wondering where I'm going with this?
Well, the SJW's and the Forced Diversity Squad have seemingkly taken a royal shit all over the franchise that I love so much. A recently leaked casting advert for the show stipulated they are looking for a strictly BAME (Black, Asian, Ethnic Minority) to play the role of Ciri. Now to some this likely seems an overreaction, but for anyone fully versed and immersed in the lore of the series, and the Witcher universe will agree, that this is fucking horseshit.
Let's take a quick look at the description of Ciri from the Witcher books:
"Now it’s our turn, thought Geralt. He was right. The officer stared at Ciri. His eyes shone through the opening in his visor, watching everything without missing a detail. Her paleness. The scar on her cheek. The blood on her sleeve and hands. The white streaks in her hair."
And now at the CDPR representation of Ciri in the Witcher game series:
Why the fuck would you cast a BAME to play this role?!
The Witcher is set in medieval Poland; a heavily Slavic culture with little to no representation of BAME's. That is not racist, and there is nothing racist about expecting the Netflix series to stay true to the origins and lore that are already established in the universe. Much like casting Frodo Baggins as a Chinese man, or casting a white lady to portray the Black Panther. It's retarded, and it's purpose is nothing more than forced diversity into a series that does not require it.
So yes, today I am pissed off at SJW's. Today I am largely considering the possibility that I will not be bothering to watch the Netflix show I had been so hyped up to see because all the way through I will be thinking "this is such bullshit".
Fuck SJW's.
Monday, 3 September 2018
Travel: Mallorca, Spain
We flew into Palma on Monday around lunchtime, before transferring to the Africamar Hotel in Can Picafort, just outside of Alcudia. After freshening up and unpacking a little [and finding faults with the hotel including one balcony door which wouldn't lock, hairs in the bathroom and a missing door key], we headed over to Trotters British and Irish Pub for a spot of late lunch, and more importantly a beer. The food was nice [peri-peri chicken and spicy wedges] and the beer was reasonably priced; we stayed at Trotters for a few more beers before moving onto Restaurante Niagara for cocktails by the beach. Niagara has three Blue-and-yellow macaw parrots - word of warning, do not try to stroke them, they don't seem to like it! We sampled strawberry daiquiris, and more notably Moz tried a Tortuga which was pretty much a glass of pure ethanol. You will get approached by 'lucky-lucky men' here; we were offered to buy a watch more than a few times (buy one, get five free!). Me and Tez had a wander down onto the beach, and then we all had a walk across the seafront. We arrived at Heladeria San Remo and opted to have our evening meal there; the place seemed quite lively and well kept and the prices were palatable [17.50 euro for peppered steak]. We all had ice cream and another drink, settled the 95 euro bill and headed back to the hotel for some rest in anticipation for the next days activities. The night ended with a fantastic tropical storm which saw the entire sky lighting up in menacing flashes of white, whilst the rain poured down over paradise.
Tuesday morning saw us heading back over the road to Trotters British and Irish Pub once more, this time for breakfast [a coffee & full English - typical Brits abroad]. We then caught a coach back across the island to Palma so that we could visit Bellver Castle. Hilarity ensued after arriving by bus to the base of a flight of 500 steps which we then had to climb. Moz on crutches recovering from a dislocated knee, and Stace who suffers with chronic fatigue [not 'conifer trees' as I had thought she'd said initially]. We finally arrived at the top of the steps and realised there was a road that led all the way to the top; ugh. We went to enter the castle only to be told we needed tickets from around the other side - awesome, it's not like we were tired or sweating! Tez volunteered to go fetch the tickets, whilst Moz discovered his sun-cream had leaked all inside his bag [harsh but hilarious at the time]. Tez returned and we headed into the castle, taking in the architecture, the historic monuments and the museum-esque areas that explained its history. We headed up to the roof [minus Moz who could not manage the stairs] and took in the fantastic views out over Palma and the surrounding coastline and mainland. After taking [many] photos, we headed around to the Castle Bar near the carpark and enjoyed a cold Estrella in the shade. Note to all tourists; do not waste your time trying to arrange a taxi from outside of the Castle. After an infuriating time trying to arrange a taxi from NTaxi's [we're talking 45 minutes here including speaking to drivers, ringing the operator and being told there were none available, downloading their app etc.], we gave up and walked back down into the city via the 500 Steps. Once back in the streets of Palma we caught a [free] bus up to Bar Central where we stopped for another beer. Not sure why the bus was free but it was absolutely packed; the epitome of a sweat-box. We walked up through Mayor Plaza, had a quick stop off at the Disney Store [for Stace haha] and then had a wander around Museu Fundación Juan March taking a look at the early works of Pablo Picasso and works by Joan Miró, Juan Gris and Salvador Dalí. After we'd taken in the artworks, we headed toward a craft beer shop that Moz wanted to visit via bus however when we arrived it wasn't open. Remaining optimistic that the owner would appear soon, we stopped at the nearby Santa Catalina Santina for a spot of food [a panini] whilst we waited for Del Món Beershop to open [which it did thankfully]. Afterwards we continued on to Catedral de Mallorca for a bit of sightseeing and photography as the sun began to set, before finally heading over to Lórien to sample their craft beer offerings. After a busy day in Palma, we headed back to the coach and rested up during the 50 minute drive back to Can Picafort. Once back, we headed to the hotel, freshened up and headed round to the Jamaica Cocktail Bar for our evening meal. This was quite possibly my favourite place in Can Picafort to eat at [I had Jerk Chicken with all the trimmings!]; if you bought four cocktails, you also got a free t-shirt. By the end of the night we had a couple of free t-shirts and a 147 euro bill [we gave them 170 euro, it was worth it!]. We headed back to the hotel and got some much needed and well deserved rest.
Wednesday was a very relaxed day. Following a simple breakfast at Playa Bar Restaurante, we headed down onto the white sand beach to enjoy the sunshine. The first thing we realised was that a lot of people aren't shy about their bodies based on the amount of topless women we saw. We found some sun loungers available and perched up. Tez went to fetch us all some ice lollies whilst we reclined and soaked up the rays. Before long we decided to venture out into the sea [beside Moz with his bad leg]; the water was cool at first but very refreshing; me and Tez ended up pretty far out off the coast. When we got back, Stace was approached by a lady offering Thai massages which after a little discussion she agreed to; a male then showed up offering Moz a foot massage which he politely declined. Whilst we were relaxing the sky suddenly darkened over quickly and before we knew it the weather turned dreary as rain began to fall. I was the first to evacuate and head up to the nearby Nusa Dua Can Picafort for shelter, shortly followed by Moz leaving Stace to enjoy her Thai massage in the rain. By now the male masseuse had also joined in giving the Thai massage. Myself and Moz sat supping beers watching the rain fall once again. Tez and Stace joined us and had a drink before we moved onto the Oasis Grill Restaurant for cocktails, and then the Horitzo Cafe for even more cocktails. The Oasis Grill seemed part of a franchise with the Jamaica Cocktail bar from the previous day as it had very similar branding and menus. Terry enjoyed a Kiss By The Sea cocktail that was reminiscent of a Mudslide [a cocktail by Revolution], meanwhile I had a sangria. At Horitzo I recall having many various cocktails with exotic names and expensive price tags. After freshening up at the hotel, we headed next door to Sabores De India for a curry; I'll be the first to admit all the alcohol and sun had gone to my head at this point and I barely even remember the rest of the night. From what I've seen on pictures, videos and the limited recall I have, we went to Trotters British & Irish Pub yet again, but this time for beer and karaoke [Beach Boys, Meatloaf, The Killers, Madness, Rick Astley]. I was absolutely hammered by the time I went back to the hotel room. So much so, that the next morning I was still hammered.
So after the previous nights antics, Thursday was my 31st birthday, however I was too hungover to even function until midday! Everyone else headed down to the beach and left me in bed nursing an awful hangover, returning with birthday cake and gifts. Once I was more alive [around 13:00] we headed down to catch the bus for our Formentor Experience excursion that we had arranged the previous day [whilst I was too drunk to really recall]. The bus headed out to Alcudia passing some landmarks including Church of St. Jaume, and the Saint Sebastian Gate into the old town Murada Medieval d'Alcúdia before stopping at Port de Pollenca. We had a short bathroom break at Stay Restaurant which included the least private toilets I've seen [the stall doors were frosted glass] since Riga [the Skyline Bar has an entirely glass wall right beside the urinal]. The Formentor Experience included a boat ride from Pollenca that passed by Talaia d'Albercutx, before continuing onward to Playa de Formentor Beach. Upon arrival, we popped into L'Espigó BeachBar for a tourist trap light lunch [self-service & overpriced], before heading down to the beautiful beach for a swim and relax. The beach, though beautiful was pretty hectic, and we found respite near some rocks under the shade from nearby trees. The water was crystal clear, however there was a very strange odour, and it was really salty. There were also a lot of fish swimming around your feet which was a little unnerving. After we'd spent some time on the beach the journey continued onward via coach to the amazing views of Mirador Es Colomer high up in the hills. It was crazy as the coach headed up winding roads with a huge cliff face metres away. When we arrived at the top of the hills we were greeted by spectacular valleys meandering through the mainland; there was a rocky path cutting it's way across the landscape that led up and down steps to a viewing platform that offered amazing views of the coastline. Many photos later we headed back down and grabbed ice lollies from Bar Mirador Colomer before heading back onto the coach that would return us to Can Picafort. It was our last night, and also my birthday, so we headed back into the hotel and freshened up before making our way down to the highly recommended Restaurante Vinicius for our evening meal. The service was excellent, our waiter Zeus was really polite and the food was delicious [I had the angus sirloin steak but also got to try the garlic rabbit which Tez ordered]. We spoke with the owner Daniele who was very accommodating and advised us she prepares all the desserts herself; I had the white chocolate brownie with pistachio ice cream which was superb. After we'd eaten and finished our drinks we headed across to the Africamar hotel bar to try the highly recommended strawberry daiquiris made by Nacho; unfortunately we did not get to try them as his protege Topher made them. This was made worse when Stace sucked a hair out of her drink which ruined the atmosphere entirely. Topher was apologetic and didn't charge for the drink, but the mood was already spoilt. After we left the hairy daiquiri at Africamar, we went around for cocktails at Pirates Can Picafort [another of the chain with Oasis Grill and Jamaica] however their selection of cocktails wasn't as broad which meant we did not stay for long before we made tracks to Barracuda, a club we noted the previous day was quite lively at night. We had a few more beers, ate a few more bar snacks, and begrudgingly went back to the hotel for one last sleep before we flew home on Friday morning.
Friday was the day we came home. It was depressing. The highlight was Moz complaining about his leg whilst we were checking into the airport which resulted in him being rushed through fast track and priority boarding. This seemed like a good thing at first until they finally delivered him to the boarding gate, and he had to make his way back through a large part of the airport to meet us at Burger King where we were enjoying our breakfast/lunch. Eventually we boarded the plane, waved goodbye to Can Picafort, and left with our memories of a lovely holiday.
#swooped #done #jibeet
____________
Africamar Hotel
Trotters British and Irish Pub
Restaurante Niagara
Heladeria San Remo
Bellver Castle
Castle Bar
Bar Central
Mayor Plaza
Museu Fundación Juan March
Santa Catalina Santina
Del Món Beershop
Catedral de Mallorca
Lórien
Jamaica Cocktail Bar
Playa Bar Restaurante
Nusa Dua Can Picafort
Oasis Grill Restaurant
Horitzo Cafe
Sabores De India
Church of St. Jaume
Saint Sebastian Gate
Murada Medieval d'Alcúdia
Port de Pollenca
Stay Restaurant
Formentor Experience
Talaia d'Albercutx
Playa de Formentor Beach
L'Espigó BeachBar
Mirador Es Colomer
Bar Mirador Colomer
Restaurante Vinicius
Pirates Can Picafort
Barracuda
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