Science Says: Women Are Miserable
I’ve been saying it for years. Women are miserable. Today, science has finally caught up with my man-brilliance.
In a survey stretching over forty years, women are found to be increasingly unhappy when compared to their smarter and better counterparts: men. The entire disaster can be summed up in one quote from a female business school student.
“My mother’s life goals were to have a beautiful garden, a well-kept house, and well-adjusted children who did well in school. I sort of want all those things, too, but I also want to have a great career and have an impact on the broader world.”
Yea. And I want a chainsaw for a cock.
Women are as malleable as lead and twice as dense. If you tell them something enough times, they’ll believe it like it’s gospel.
Women can do as much as men.
Women can do as much as men.
Women can do as much as men.
Marriage is somehow not blatant ownership of a woman.
If you asked me to raise the dead and fly around the world so fast that time reversed like some kind of Superman-Jesus, I would tell you to go fuck yourself. That’s exactly the same as telling a woman she’s capable of doing what a man can. It’s a level of insane that can only be responded to with a “go fuck yourself.” That’s what you say to a vagrant when one tells you he invented the moon.
Go fuck yourself.
The expectations put on women in today’s world are unbearably high and of an intolerable weight to the female psyche. Let’s leave maintaining a career and social circle out of it for a moment — both of which women are expected to handle. Let’s just consider the day to day activities of living as a woman in 2007.
A woman must: use a computer, remember various codes, deal with billboards and flashing lights, encounter ubiquitous supermodels, plastic surgery, and websites for swingers, and no woman is Heidi Klum. With all these distractions, it’s a goddamn miracle women can even remember to get dressed in the morning.
Men are better than women at being happy.
Today, men are responsible for exactly what we’ve been responsible for since the beginning of time: everything. No man, past or present, was surprised when he had to get a job. He knew it was coming. He knew the credit card bill was coming at the end of the month as well — which women conveniently forget right before they’re about to forget that prostitution is illegal.
Just because it takes place in hushed voices in your bedroom with your girlfriend, and not on a street corner, doesn’t mean it’s not prostitution. You’re paying her credit card bill. She’s lowering her interest rates — if you know what I mean.
Women live hour to hour. They don’t have the foresight to see sunset. Expecting them to hold five or ten year career plans in their heads is cruel. Expecting them to make a difference on the “broader world” is torture. Expecting them to do anything but fuck up and then not know how to fix it is irresponsible, irrational, and worst of all: unmanly.
Women have nothing to be miserable about. They’re all born with a black American Express Card called a “vagina”. They must just like being miserable.
