There seems to be a phenomenon happening in front of my house. I think that there must be an antenna stuck on top of my head that gives it away. I think that I have mistaken for a mobile GPS. Even in a street full of people, a lost person seems to choose me to ask for directions. Even people driving by seem to do it too. I am wondering if my love of maps is written on my face. Give me a map and compass and I am in my element.
I would like to see the rule book that states that I have love football just because of my sex. To take that a step further, any ball sport. I have no fondness for them what so ever and see them as pointless. Is it because I have balls that I have to have some sympathetic tie to them? I just don’t see the point. It is not that I don’t like sport, quite the contrary; it is just that I like things that have a point to them, where some value can be derived from the effort. In the case of football, I can only see the value as training better shop lifters, where you take an item and try to dodge those trying to arrest you. But that is almost honorable because there is a point to effort and the prize is the stolen good. In the case of “game”, you have stupid rules governing how you can handle the ball and how to arrest the progress of the one carrying it. Then if they are injured, the news is littered with poor overpaid player. Don’t even get me started on soccer.
Any patch, on any repair, requires the addition of extra material to cover and protect the wounded area. The result of such a repairs results in a toughening of the compromised area so it will not fail again or cause failure to the unit is a part of. No matter how much integrity the wounded area once had it is now a point of weakness. The patch is a physical display of where the wound is and an area that may need defending. The same can said of emotions, even if there is no physical patch that you can see.
In male culture, it is unmanly to show signs of weakness. Exposing your vulnerabilities is something that is not done. Live long enough and you will find someone that you can think you can confide in you can expose your weakness too in the name of honesty. For a man with any honor, truthfulness is a high quality that they try to live up to. If lucky he would have chosen the right person and never have his weakness used against him. If not he feels compelled to suffer the anguish alone while giving the appearance of being unscathed.
If you get into a conversation with such a man you will find that he picks up on certain things, a look, a reaction. All of a sudden he appears to be very insightful into emotional pain which surprises since he appears bulletproof. What he has done is pick up on something he feels like he wants to do but is compelled not too. His insights are based on his own experience and he has milled over on his own to find a way out. Males who don’t find that way out see death as their only release. Statistically males are more prone to suicide. For those who have been emotionally destroyed, there is no experience sharing because to do that would be to expose the wound but they are very mindful of seeing it in others. The trick is trying to approach those males without them losing face of compromising their manliness.
If you are bless with their admission of weakness they are displaying a level of trust in you that is beyond all measure. During this process you will find them asking weird questions which, on face value, appear to be confusing. What is being done is an assessment of how much value they are too you. They are defending that wound now covered in scar tissue. At that moment they are admitting they are human.
It was a beautiful serene morning, about 3 am and the stars were bright and all lit up because of the full moon. Now some may wonder what you would be doing awake at this time of the morning but those who know me know that I don’t sleep very well. So I was indulging in my dirty nicotine out the front of my house, because I don’t smoke inside when I heard the sound of footsteps. There was not a soul about, as you may expect at this time of the morning, so I looked up the street to see what the causing them. There in the middle of the road was a tracksuit wearing, grey haired thing approaching me. So you may think nothing of that but he was approaching me backwards.
At this weird hour, the full moon and this weird site I thought I had just entered the Twilight Zone. There was nothing else to gauge time by so I thought for a second that time was going backward and here I was stuck in some place between time, like in some Dean Kontz novel. Add to that what would a grey haired man be doing at that time of the morning walking down the road backwards.
I finished my ciggy and hurried inside to look at a clock just to make sure I was not stuck in a world on rewind.
What is should have been was a simple task. My mind transfixed on the target, I knew where to go and what I wanted. A simple derivative of primal hunter instinct where you transport yourself to the hunting ground, find your target, acquire it then move to your sanctuary with your prize. Almost like an elite athlete, where the mental processes are have been exercised and the appropriate equipment and logistics are loaded and all is needed is a physical process.
Enter evolution, where the hunting ground is no longer a series of geological obstacles full of fauna and flora but a building filled with separate hunting grounds to cater for the hunter and the gatherer alike. However, nature holds the ace in reminding you who is master. While enroot to my predestinated hunting ground where I was sure my prize would lay, Mother nature calls to me on a primal level. Though you may be in this artificial hunting ground where convenience is the ethos to this semi organized world, she requires you to subjugate yourself by purging your excess bodily fluid and reminding you that you of her making and design regardless of your environment.
To this calling I answer on my way to my purpose. While in ancient times a tree or patch of earth would have sufficed, man in his wisdom has built temples to honor Mother Nature to her mastery of all. These temples are segregated into the most basic of divisions, sex. The most primal of divisions that excludes race, religion or culture only on what one has or has not between their legs. Each temple designed to allow the most hygienically acceptable way to return to Mother Nature her reminder that we are human.
With the difference with physiology, the male temple holds a stainless steel shrine which is a unique trait to the male temple. In recent times there has been an addition, where at this shrine, at eye level, they will put notices or advertisements. While these usually contain messages on sexual health or male related products, I prepared to give Mother Nature my offering and was confronted by a message from the government. “To Violence Against Women, Australia Says No!” a message that has been rammed down my throat by all forms of media in recent times. Then it dawns on me, my status in humanity because of the appendage I hold in my hand at this shrine.
This appendage makes you a villain. Because of it you have to pay taxes for a message you already practice but it seems that you need to be reminded because this monster in your loins. If you are not reminded you may be subject to this animal taking control of you and making you a woman beating beast. Regardless of your past where you have stepped in to defend someone regardless of their sex, regardless that you find it personally distasteful to consciously harm another human being. You are a monster and in this shrine you hold the source of all human evil.
I then think that I am over thinking the situation, when it dawns on me that this shrine is also the start of the male desensitization process. Regardless of the bodily process that requires attention, the female temple gives you a private cubical. While the male temple may contain a few of these, it is only for where the commonness of the bodies and the function are the same. Other than that the males are given an economical alternative. A place where you are stripped of all modesty and required to stand next to another with the most private of body parts exposed. We are taught to think nothing of it as we stand there side by side at this cheep alternative to having our own private cubical to keep our modesty.
But to this message that is now flashed at me while I stand subjugated before this shrine it strikes me that I am a second class citizen. I am supposed to live in a country that advocates political correctness. Yet I am confronted by a message by the government telling me that only men are capable of violence. Yet they make this assertion without any statistical facts. So an unfounded assertion is being given tax funding and trying to divide men by providing a call number so that males can dob in other males that have hit a woman. With the circle of men that I associate with I have never seen a violent act against a woman though I have seen the reverse. In my past I have had to give aid to men that have been assaulted by women and seen how males think it shameful to take it any further. There is no report of assault to the authorities and no retribution to the offender.
Now there is no argument if the advertising campaign said “To Violence, Australia Says No”, but it is clear that the Feminists have invaded the ranks of government and don’t want any opposition when they take up arms and invade the artificial insemination clinics and arbitrarily execute the male race form the earth. It will not be long before they amend the common law right to defend your own life to defend yourself only against male attacks so that it will be illegal to harm a woman even when she twists that knife in your gut and if you do the penalty will be death anyway. To put a politically incorrect sign in the male toilet is just the same as putting a guillotine in there, or have I accidently stumbled on the next phase of feminist world domination. I do not advocate unwarranted violence against anyone nor do I appreciate holding my genitals and being branded the only cause of violence in this world. I you are going to make an assertion about the amount of domestic violence in this world and who the perpetrators are, then at least grace me with the proof to support your claim or are the Feminists who invade the male temple too afraid of the statistical proof that females are just as capable of harming a human being as a male?
I just think that these feminist cretins are envious that they cannot use a urinal.
In the age of the Conquistadors when the Spanish first explored the lands of South America, they observed in horror as the Incas would offer human sacrifices to their gods in order for the sun to rise the next day. With their warring with neighboring tribes, their prisoners would be taken to the top of a stone pyramid and their beating heats removed from their chests. It was a fate some of the Conquistadors would experience firsthand. While many other cultures throughout history offered human sacrifice to appease their gods, the Incas were among the last. Or were they?
In this age we still offer prisoners for sacrifice to the gods of ineptitude. As atonement for mans inability to understand himself as a species. These prisons falsely call themselves correctional facilities when in reality they are nothing more than waiting rooms to a human waste disposal unit. A place to take human refuse that cannot be handled or corrected. For those countries that still practice capital punishment, we indulge in our ultimate failure. Here the ancient laws of Moses are evoked where vengeance is exacted on one by an inherited or elected aristocracy and the contempt for the precious gift of human life is displayed. While the condemned finds themselves in this position because they are convicted of committing a crime the powers believe the cost of human life is atonement for, it is a total contradiction to the ethos that no man is beyond redemption.
But where is the failure? Is the failure in the fact that it is so much easier to dispose of than to repair? That as we become more and more of a “throw away” society, that we can apply this practice to human life as well. After only decades from the horror of arbitrary extermination of a race because it was easier and more economical than the cost of relocation, has the human race not learned anything. Are the gods of economics so great that they should govern over life itself and if so what is the value of a human life?
