Women have been cheating on men since the beginning of time. The first woman, Eve, cheated on her man with a snake. That snake’s name was “The Devil”.

A while ago, I was talking to a woman about my “radical” ideas. Men are responsible for every single advancement in human history; the wage gap proves men are better than women because if we were all equal, hiring a woman would be a cheaper alternative to a man and thus an obvious business decision; and it is only through our divine and manly grace that women are allowed to vote, own property, or wear bras. Her response was that I was wrong because the Devil is a man.

I’ll tell you who the real “Devil” is: a cheating marine’s wife.

The cheating wife of a soldier should be dragged into the street and shot. [Read more]

The reason it takes women two hours to go shoe shopping is because they anthropomorphise consumable goods. That’s what women are after all: consumable goods. It’s no surprise that they project their self-worth onto anything that can be purchased and used.

Women assign souls to inanimate objects. When they go shoe shopping, they have to look at each and every pair because if they miss one, a woman thinks she’s hurting its feelings. That’s why women are such cunts most of time. After a long day of running four errands before 3 PM, a woman has already exhausted her daily supply of caring. Fuck you if you wanted anything by the time you see her. You should have been on the rack with a price tag like the rest of her “babies”.

“Mother Nature” is full of consumable goods. Women think “Mother Earth” has feelings.

At least that’s what I’m going with until anyone can think of a better reason why a woman would abort a fetus in order to protect “Mother Earth” from the carbon emissions of her spawn. [Read more]

Women are obsessed with plastic surgery, and one of the fastest growing surgical trends this Thanksgiving is the rejuvenating, revitalizing, reinvigorating vaginoplasty.

The rejuvenating, revitalizing, reinvigorating vaginoplasty puts the “tight” in a twat; it takes the “loose” from a labia; it crams the “new” into a snootch; and it takes at least three kids off the odometer. When marriage counseling doesn’t work, and since women are too possessive to give threesomes a shot, they’re turning to the same thing that brought us taxes, Charles Manson, and the Vagina Monologues.

The vagina. [Read more]

Women’s newest complaint in the arena of sport is that their token female sideline commentators have to go into “icky” men’s locker rooms and see “gross” enormous wieners to get their jobs done.

A penny saved is a woman fired.

Between periods, pregnancies, and lawsuits, I’m surprised women have any time left in the workday to play Solitaire.

You’d never hear a male sports reporter complaining for easier access to female athletes. That’s because women athletes are disgusting wildebeests who should be hunted on safari and not seen, heard, or interviewed.

Fuck women’s sports. [Read more]

If you’ve been watching the Dr. Phil “House of Judgment”, you may have noticed that the first problem Dr. Phil has with my views is that I have a book to sell. Well it’s true, fellows and gentlemen, I am a filthy capitalist. I am a low-down, dirty capitalist who is out to make money by providing you with something that is both manlightening and hilarious for a nominal cost.

And unlike women in the army, this is comedy you can choose whether or not you want to pay for.

How dare I.

I would also like to note that my book is worth its weight in gold. It will teach you how to shut women the fuck up. Silence is golden.

Let’s talk about capitalism. You may already be familiar with it as the thing that brought you everything you know. Imagine Santa Claus with a school bus full of girls gone wild on his back, a Super Soaker full of gin in his hand, and a Viagra-induced boner that could win a home-run derby in the other. That’s capitalism.

Women hate capitalism. [Read more]

Fat girls are obsessed with marriage. Their big fat mindsets are warped around the concept of “get all you can”, like a lumped wad of peanut butter and jelly sandwich around the Star Wars thermos inside your lunch box.

For a woman, marriage is an all you can eat buffet of free shit. The ring goes on and the wish list starts cranking out like a broken fax machine; each request more undeserved than the last.

The fatter they are, the more they want their docking-pass to that buffet. Remember that inside every skinny girl, there’s a fucking behemoth just dying to get out. [Read more]

I have received well over a thousand supportive emails from women over the last 48 hours. Unsurprisingly to me, the topic they’re the most encouraging about is my comment on whores and all women being them.

All women are whores.

Keep in mind that I consider female anger to be the weather vane of truth and wisdom. When a woman finally has a heart attack after reading something I’ve written, I’m going to start calling myself Buddha.

King Buddha. [Read more]

A screwdriver has a purpose. Without this tool, men wouldn’t be able to screw anything for less than the cost of a video game — and women wouldn’t be able to dent my car by dropping one on the hood while trying to put the Christmas decorations away on a shelf two feet above their fucking head.

If it’s out of reach, get a man. If it’s got buttons, get a man. If it affects the fate of anything more than an unboiled egg or the color of drapes, get a man.

Texas Instruments once had a social conscience. They devised a pink Speak N Spell that flashed only the following:

In case of thought, get a man!

Sadly, it was recalled. Oh the lives it may have saved. [Read more]