Random entry: All your kayak are belong to us.

Lost again that you it's good enough, I'll need to us, but now, Han and Luke and Velma's world of a rash. Daphne and announces. No shoes. This. Well, my help but, why?

I will have your kayak and the way home from Mom, and Velma's world of it been doing Presbyterian VBS. So who refused Novocain during a broken locking solenoid on new minivan. Not to us, But now. A frog went to close. I've got a kayak and have Bunny does not believe that Luke and planning make go.

Her a fire to like it been worth it as good price on the Promotion, Advancement and that at Am Not have her a kilt and coaxed Dollface out of them to go finance his feet. They name: is. I'm going to tzikeh who is a mad passion in South Carolina. He wanted to buy the manager came over. Right Now, I did not going to buy flowers from the man who made me, Luke, don't much.

Kid Rock performs the note about it yet. Also asked them to go their recent tournament victories. My eyes gold one of the untouchably Butch thing to authors who sent ten different (buddy). Or maybe it came on AIM tonight: i want to marry God a sport: world of the next son John Sparrow moved ignored him a lot of Christ. He was.

Pissy mood

Just severely out of temper, and took it out on a hapless poster on one of my mailinglists.

He tries to put women on a pedastal as perfection, and that gay men are removing themselves from women to keep from causing the perfect, wonderful beings any more distress.

He's either smoking too much Starhawk, or trying to get into someone's pants, is my opinion.

I suggested male homosexuality was another form of misogyny instead of a worshipful withdrawal. The words I hear about women from gay men are of loathing and revulsion, not of awe and worship.




I'm feeling misogynistic, so here's my point:

Women don't belong on pedastals. We're not perfect. In fact, the vast majority of women aren't even interesting.

They throw their brains out of their heads in their teens, and present themselves as sex objects. Men, seeing this, treat them as such. Some women actually have the nerve to complain about this treatment. Their mouths say "pigs" while their bodies and modes of dress are saying "come and get it." If one is dressed like a streetwalker, there is no room to complain when men ogle the goods on display.

By the time this fades, they've gotten caught in a rut of career/children/debt and have no time to develop interests in anything outside of those.

Women tend to bloom most after menopause. Then, they have time.
This is why witches and wisewomen are old. This power and wisdom is also why cultures have been afraid of old women forever. Our own culture has decided that "30=dead" or "35 is the next 18" depending on who you talk to. There is no sense of maturity or of dignity that goes with age.

Men hit 45, trade the wife in on a pair of 20's, buy a sportscar and get laughed at.

Women hit 25 and decide they're old bags. 14 year olds want to have babies instead of waiting until they're over the hill at 20.

My mother, still in thrall to her 1950's scripts, has beautiful silver hair. She dyes it an unbecoming red (she's a winter) because it "makes her look younger." I'm finding silver in my own hair, more this year than last. I think I may have dyed mine for the last time in May.

I'm ranting and rambling.

Being aware of the ways in which I despise my own sex (and the ways I use to cover it) tends to warn me when someone else is using the same tactics.

Because it's going around...

( Easy to rig this one was )