March 13, 2017

As with the Women’s March on Washington and all other latter-day feminist caterwauling, the Great Unanswered Questions remain:

What the hell are you all whining about? Can you name a single right you don”€™t have that men do? It’s not enough that you live longer than men? Controlling the majority of the nation’s consumer wealth”€”soon to be two-thirds of it”€”isn”€™t enough for you harpies?

American women account for 42% of “€œlegislators, senior officials, and managers“€ in this country. That’s a higher quotient than all the poofy places such as Canada and Western Europe that are supposedly far more gender-enlightened than the 24-Hour Rape Palace that is supposedly Donald Trump’s America. Women in the USA rank among the world’s most entitled when it comes to things such as personal freedom and overall welfare.

But none of this mattered to the Vagina Strikers. As a result of women across this great borderless planet uniting to play hooky from work while clad head-to-toe in menses-tinted red and exclusively patronizing coffee shops owned by black lesbian midgets, the global systems of capitalist colonialism and white supremacy would come crashing down when everyone realized that nothing could function without delusional middle-aged white clam-diggers who pop SSRIs and own thousands of cats. It was to be Lysistrata,, but with women withholding labor and money instead of sex”€”and judging from the looks of many protestors, it’s not as if the latter was an option, anyway.

At least that’s how it was supposed to go. As far as I can tell, no one even noticed anything different last Wednesday. Everything operated smoothly, efficiently, and perhaps even a smidge more peacefully. Overall, this general strike was a general bust. A HUGE bust, actually.

It was an equivalent failure to last month’s “€œA Day Without Immigrants,”€ which similarly tanked in its attempt to hobble the nation but instead was barely noticed. At the aptly monikered I Don”€™t Care Bar and Grill in Catoosa, OK, a dozen “€œimmigrant”€ workers called in sick last month, and all of them were fired.

I bear a lifelong distaste not only for ideologues, but also for activists and especially for protesters. I am proud to say that I have never engaged in a public protest in my life. Nor have I hoisted a picket sign or chanted in a drum circle. I question not only the motivations and work schedule, but also the fundamental personality of anyone with an insatiable need to appear in public and thump their chest about something or other. It reminds me of comedian Pat Cooper haranguing a black man at the original Million Man March on the old Howard Stern radio show. He said something to the effect of, “€œYou”€™re a MARCHER! That’s what you do”€”you march! You sound stupid because you got your brains in your feet!”€ The point of all these pointless women’s marches seems to be that women have vaginas, and they aren”€™t afraid of barking at you with them.

Didn”€™t everyone already know that?

A day without a woman? These marchers should try living an hour without male inventions.


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