Why I Quit Men s Rights Movement
- 4 years ago
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Brother Samuel here. A lot of people have asked me why I do what it is I do. I don’t understand the question. I am what I am. I do what comes natural. The alternative is simply unthinkable. I have a power and I will continue to use it until it’s gone or I am. To do anything else would be simply wrong. I am a bisexual black man who sticks up for Men’s Rights and GLBT rights along with Animal Rights ( I’m against neutering) wherever he goes. I’m against the truly barbaric and outdated practice of circumcising human males. I don’t think it’s necessary in the twenty first century. I’m uncut and proud of it. I am a natural man. That’s what I am.
In my lifetime, I’ve encountered a myriad of haters. The men and women who love to get in your way because you’re doing something they can’t. it can be the librarian who gives a small-town author the runaround when it comes to getting his recently published book on the shelves. Or the college administrator who does anything he or she can to undermine the student with progressive or revolutionary ideas. The boss or co-worker who hates creative people. The covertly abusive family member who tries to crush the dreams of the gifted person, all the better to control him or her. The police officer who uses his or her badge as a means to harass those they consider to be the social undesirables. Yeah, we all know at least one hater.
Haters are everywhere we go. The rude men and rude women we encounter on the bus, the train, the elevator, the boat, the office or anywhere else. Sometimes we ask ourselves why they do what they do. The answer is simple. A hater does what he or she does simply because they hate. If they did anything besides hating, we wouldn’t call them haters. They don’t want us to make our dreams come true. They’re hollow and empty inside. They know an emptiness the rest of us are naturally immune to. To fill that emptiness within themselves, they seek fulfillment through the destruction of others. Our dreams. Our freedom. Our reputation. Our health. Our lives. They want it all. And they’re going to take it. But only if we let them.
The haters can wear deceptively familiar faces. My father is a sociopath. A man without conscience. Most people don’t know this about him. He’s tall, good-looking, preternaturally intelligent and extremely charming. He’s the director of the second largest airline in my country of origin. He’s got many sons and daughters by different women. He’s respected and feared in the business community back home. The man does well for himself. And every day of my life he reminded me that I would never amount to anything. I guess I proved him wrong. College graduate. Published author. Community activist. Bisexual icon. I’ve done well for myself. No thanks to him, though.
My mother is another one of those haters. She hates men in general, in no small part due to my father’s influence. I’ve seen what hatred has done to her. For that reason, I no longer trust her. Women who hate men are capable of terrible things. A man who trusts such a woman is endangering not only himself but everything which he holds dear. Why risk it all over the wrong woman? For that matter, is there a right woman? I got my doubts about that one, folks. In every class I attended in college, female students agreed one hundred percent with man-hating feminist professors who blamed men for every wrong thing under the sun. I notice that and it frightens me. Other young college men seem immune to it. They ignore the male-bashing literature on campus and the offensive ads on television. They don’t give a damn when a wicked woman gets away with killing an innocent man when she pleads either insanity or the syndrome of the week. Yeah, stuff like that only bothers me. Am I another species of man or something? Apparently so. Other men don’t feel as I do or think as I do. Either I’m more than they, or they are less than I am. Whatever the case may be, we’re not the same breed.
Once, while walking inside a mall on a hot summer day, I heard a female clerk refer to men as dogs while chatting with a male employee. In no unclear terms I let her know that I found her statement offensive. I wasn’t patronizing the establishment where she worked because I wanted to get insulted. With that, I walked away. Yeah, I don’t like the haters. Man-haters especially. They’re everywhere. And they’re the most powerful of all haters. Those who hate black people often worry about being sued or getting their just desserts at the hands of an irate black man or worse, an irate black woman. Those who hate gays, lesbians and bisexuals along with transsexuals have to worry about the advocating agencies and organizations dedicated to defending the rights of all GLBT people and their families from socially instituted mistreatment. Those who hate men have carte blanche. The governments of various North American and European countries spend billions of dollars funding agencies run by man-haters who are dedicated to destroying the human male and the family itself. Who are their extremely willing accomplices? Women without conscience.
Some of you may think I’m lying. Why would a woman want to destroy the man she loves and the family they created together, and why would a government agency help her? Simply because there’s money involved for the government agency. Where would the courts be if they didn’t have the chance to destroy those good fathers out there by mandating that they be separated from their offspring? If the police actually went out to do their job without bias, they would arrest far more women than men. Simply because there are more women than men in the world and since it’s been proven both sexes have comparable propensity for violence, an equal number of women belong in jail. Same as men. However, cops and prosecutors look the other way when female criminals do what they do because they don’t want to offend the all-powerful and remorseless female masterminds who rule the world.
The same can be said for the number of black males in prison. Since black males make up less than ten percent of the population, how can they make ninety percent of those in jail? Simple. The police look the other way when white males and especially white females commit crimes. They prefer to arrest black males. Why don’t they arrest black females? They do sometimes. However, arresting a black female might offend the remorseless female masterminds who rule the world so the cops prefer not to tangle with them unless they really have to.
Gender is a far greater protection than race in this country. Case in point? Black and male equals double guilt. Black and female equals a fifty-fifty chance of innocence or guilt. White and male equals a seventy-thirty chance of innocence over guilt. Being white is a major protection, but being male drags one down. Being white and female means getting the jackpot. It’s a win-win situation. You’re part of the untouchable, super-powerful and super-protected ruling class of the world. Let me put it this way. Black males, Middle-Eastern males along with Hispanic males and Asian males are expendable because they’re minority males. White males are somewhat less expendable because they’re white and the sometimes valued mates of white females. White females are the protected class. Black males and black females, Asian males and Asian females, Hispanic females and Hispanic males, Middle-Eastern male and Middle-Eastern females will all be sacrificed to perdition because a single hair on the head of the lowest white female in the land is harmed. And that, folks, is what it means to live in America.
What can I do in this situation? I’m a black man who’s also bisexual. Thrice a minority. I’m not a member of any socially protected class. I do have something going on for me, though. Through luck and genetics, I guess I hit the jackpot without anybody knowing. I’m a bloody genius, folks. I can spot a sociopath ( human being without conscience ) a mile away because sociopathic DNA runs through my veins, thanks to my sociopathic fa
ther. My mother’s DNA contributed enough to my overall genetic makeup that I am half normal and half sociopath, rather than a full remorseless monster. I can spot the sociopaths. I can even beat them at their own game. But I’m not one of them.
Like I said before, I’m a bloody genius. Through instinct, observation and body language, I can also spot misandrists. What is a misandrist? Simply a man-hater. I can spot the Familiars, as I call those well-meaning but feeble-minded people who seem genetically designed to be the willing pawns of sociopaths. And I’ve never been sick a day in my life. I can’t recall ever getting hurt. Since I can do all that, who in hell needs super powers? Let the haters of the world come. I say bring it on!
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Jen got up from her table when she saw Suzanne arrive, and gave her friend a hug and kiss. She was so happy to see Suzanne. They had been best friends since grade school. Jen felt unnerved by recent events, and needed the advice of her oldest and closest friend. It was hard for Jen to describe the things that she and Michael had done the last few months, even to Suzanne. But eventually she described what had happened with Vic and the shoe salesman, and then she described how she had let...
Jen couldn't move. Carlos had left her over 30 minutes ago. Sitting in her car, she felt like she was in shock. She couldn't believe what had happened. She was both repulsed and aroused as she re-played the scene in her mind, remembered the old man's thick cock inside of her, his hands on her breasts, his tongue in her mouth, his cum shooting into her. She abruptly decided that she wouldn't tell her husband about it. If it had been just Carlos — well, she'd tell Michael about that,...
Arena Fights Please note that the following fiction is intended for ADULT ONLY entertainment. Do not read further if you are easily offended by extreme themes, or your local community codes do not permit such suggestive material. This fiction is intended for your use only. Any further dissemination of it must first require the author?s permission. Thank you. Faibhar Arena Fights The band?s booming drums and blaring trumpets shook even the groggiest awake; unnecessary because it...
Welcome to the Centre Bell arena in Montreal, Canada. Where we have the oil wrestling league.The BWL wil have their 2008 wrestling tournament. To see who is the best sexfighter, male or female (and which gender is the better sexfighter), we'll host the BWL sex fight tournament 2008. It is a local tradition that the girls will enter, piggyback riding on her boyfriend’s shoulders. And if a girl wins, she’ll be carried outside the ring, sitting on her boyfriend’s shoulders. A man will enter the...
I was doing my morning round, letting the dog do his little natural habits. I was nearly home when, all of a sudden the dog spotted a cat, I was not ready for it, the dog rushed off, and I did not hold the leash properly. The cat, alarmed, sprinted off, and disappeared into the nearest garden. My dog, Gordon, was not planning to wait for permission but rushed through the hedge. That was a mistake, the leash got entangled and there he was, stuck. Luckily for me, since I was not really in the...
The Odd Memory Sometimes memories become clearer as the years pass. Emotions are diluted until they are just a hint of flavor in the pot-pie past. I've been sifting through a lot of memories lately. There are times I can close my eyes and touch, smell, hear, and taste those other times. Memories less clear drift through my mind as nebulous and inconsequential as clouds seen from an airplane window. I think I'm looking for a beginning but I haven't found it yet. Twenty-three years ago...
Introduction: It was my fantasy The two new men were about to fuck me and my hubby was setting up the DVD camera. My fantasy of strangers fucking me while he watched was going to become a reality and a preserved one at that. He told them to to within reason anything they wanted with me that I was pretty much willing. I was ordered first to get on my knees and alternate between sucking each of their cocks until they were hard. They both had large cocks, much larger than my hubby has and I was...
Gamindustri. A magical land of scientific and technological progress. The continent is divided into several nations, each protected by one of the Console Patron Units who oversee and guide its inhabitants. In turn, the CPUs are worshiped as goddesses and empowered by the physical manifestation of their people's faith - a mystical energy known as Shares. Much of Gamindustri's history prior to the signing of the Treaty of Friendship is dominated by the Console Wars, an era of devastating battles...
John woke up with a start. He lay in a large Queen-sized bed of silk sheets and soft pillows. The light of the morning sun gently illuminating the room through a set of open doors. "What the fuck?!" John was naked. He looked around the room, trying to remember how he got there but kept drawing a blank. The entire room was white, white dresser, white chairs, white tiled floor. The two exceptions were the ceiling and a mirror by the set of doors leading to what he guessed was a balcony. He...