Feminist Story

The other day I found myself in a theater room. The room was decked out with all the mod-cons etc. Remote controls, superb sound system, 3D glasses and an enormous flat screen. The huge flat screen tuned into the WFF (World Fighting Federation) began to exacerbate any attempt to remain innocent, guileless and fragile whilst in the suburbs. The WFF were having an organized weigh in. Behind the men were 12 or so scantily clad busty ladies silently smiling at the cameras. Their job was to hold up placards of some kind. Have you ever seen this form of fighting? Anyway, it’s fucked up, violent and has the same air as street fighting only the men and women are battling in cages, there is an anything goes type vibe. When one or the other nock’s his or her opponent down, they pounce in for the kill like a rabbit dog, plowing away until he or she is metaphysically dead or whatever. Anyway, I said, “my feminist friends would have a field day,” looking at the women standing in line. My father said (dad being the quintessential performer), “you know some feminists do you?” I said, “well yeah I consider myself to be one, He said, “you can’t be a feminist.”

Feminism liberates men from their own masculinity as much as it liberates women from femininity.