When everyone’s favorite feminist Christian priest, Marc Driscoll, decided to start screaming at the men in his congregation, he probably imagined he’d get the wives and daughters in the audience wet for him. He likely anticipated an increase in donations, as the Christian whores in the chapel would see him as more manly than their own fathers and husbands.

He probably didn’t know that he’d become a fun manosphere meme.

While I can’t imagine that there’s anyone who hasn’t been entertained by this clown, here’s five minutes of Driscoll, kooking out in the most laughable fashion, in case you’ve missed it.

The first group of men that Driscoll castigates are the men who “have been coming here for years, with [their] hands all over their girlfriend[s]…” These men, who have been donating to Driscoll’s Christian church, for years, are subsequently screamed at for not marrying their Christian girlfriends.

Driscoll was not indulging in empty rhetoric. There were certainly many men in the audience who were faithful Christians. These men donated time and money, so that this useless parasite could continue to live large, without working. These men obeyed all the rules of their religious texts. They had what early Christian church fathers called a “natural marriage,” by taking a woman and faithfully living with her and loving her. Driscoll, of course, knows better than Augustine and St. Anselm. He knows better than a thousand years of patriarchal wisdom, which mirrors common sense. He calls these men and their marriages “cowardice” and “neglect,” and asks these faithful men who they think they are, for not manning up, and giving their slutty Christian wimminz a chance at being divorced.

To fuck a Christian slut without putting the noose of the divorce court around one’s neck is “dishonorable,” and “unmanly.” Those in the audience who didn’t realize it were in for a treat, as Pastor Driscoll was there to set them straight.

I fucked two wimminz in the last couple of weeks. Both were religious. One was a Protestant, and the other was Jewish. Neither seemed to mind the fact that I wasn’t much for religion myself. Both pretended to be patriarchal. Both expressed interest in being married. What I must assume is that neither would really be interested in marrying me, unless I were to magically convert to their own respective religions.

It might be that I constantly meet and fuck outliers, but I don’t think there are that many outliers in the world.

What I find more likely is that I meet and fuck random, everyday wimminz. These are the Christian and Jewish (and Muslim) sluts that you brothers meet, when you go to church. They find me amusing to play with. They also find me safe, as they know there is no chance that I will interact with the pool of men they plan to pretend to commit to.

Brother Boxer is a walking dildo and ATM machine, who these wimminz can goof off with on the side, while they are seeking out a good earning sucker, in their own community. Boxer will be discarded, but you will be the mark. It is you who they plan to marry, with the help of their faggot priest or rabbi, who will browbeat you, their victim, into signing on that dotted line.

Don’t think that you can have a “natural marriage,” in this society. Your priest is an agent of the feminist state, and he will be there, to derail your plans.

Thus it is you who will be robbed, the minute that princess decides that she’s not happy. This magic moment, which will (just coincidentally) arrive when the law tells her she can maximize her alimony payout, (in many states, that’s on your seventh or tenth anniversary,) will take you by surprise. Remember me, when it comes to pass. I tried to warn you.

By then you’ll have some sweet little Christian or Jewish (or Muslim) kids, who she will use as hostages to keep you in line. These children will grow up without a stable father-figure in the home, and will likely see a long procession of unscrupulous men, in and out of mom’s bedroom, throughout their tender years. You will pay for this, and I will too, and the only people who will profit are your skank-ho wife, the divorce lawyers, and faggot priests like Marc Driscoll.

So, really, there is someone who is childish, who is a “boy, and not a man,” and who deserves to be publicly humiliated. It isn’t you. It is the man who lives at your expense, without working. It is the man who AMOGs you, when you should be praying and enjoying the serenity of family time. It is the man who interferes in your marriage, during the hours that ought to be devoted to worshipping your God. Marc Driscoll is an example, but he’s hardly the only one.

How dare you? Indeed!

Commentators Jew613 and Heidi are discussing Eugene Kanin’s study entitled False Rape Allegations (Archives of Sexual Behavior: 23, No. 1, 1994). I figured I’d dig up a grainy PDF of it and host it here.

ABSTRACT: With the cooperation of the police agency of a small metropolitan community, 45 consecutive, disposed, false rape allegations covering a 9 year period were studied. These false rape allegations constitute 41% the total forcible rape cases (n = 109) reported during this period. These false allegations appear to serve three major functions for the complainants: providing an alibi, seeking revenge, and obtaining sympathy and attention. False rape allegations are not the consequence of a gender-linked aberration, as frequently claimed, but reflect impulsive and desperate efforts to cope with personal and social stress situations.

Read the whole thing here:

kanin-false-rape

In a one-time-only, never to be repeated spectacle, the first wimminz who ever vomited up a filthy, fictitious rape-fantasy about a handsome, powerful man, and told it as though it were true, has admitted she was bullshitting the entire time.

This proves that wimminz never lie about rape.

Bonus funnies in the comments: Wimminz are reminding us that wimminz are the true victims here.

The UK is in desperate need of invasion and liberation.

I guess it’s too late to scare the people who read my blog with Canadian n00dz. Given that someone came looking, I figured I would open up the topic and see who would really be in the market for such mediocre porn.

Given Stormy Daniels’ rise to the top of the charts, I guess there are probably a whole lotta y’all out there who would be down for some 3-5 wimminz who try to be sexy for a living, all while moralizing in the media.

Only in America could this wimminz become a top-shelf pr0n star.

So, be honest, all you degenerates. Who is better lookin’?

Skank-ho Feminist Stormy Daniels

It’s an informal poll, but I’d be interested to know whether anyone will admit to finding either wimminz appealing.

And so it is I sit down at your feet, dear readers, and ask, who do you owe your loyalty to?

There’s a 19th century proverb, that supposedly inspired Bela Kun:

Ha nem lopsz az államtól, akkor a családtól lopsz.

This is crass, but it illuminates a timeless truth. Family honor, duty and loyalty is usually at cross purposes with patriotism.

I guess Mueller is getting the #metoo treatment. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, and all that. Incidentally, all the same people who claim that we should #believeallwimminz and that #wimminzneverlie are now frantic to spread the story that this wimminz is a paid shill.

Sure, it’s probably bullshit. But, if I’ve learned anything, it is that feminists are on the right side of history, and that I should believe all wimminz, and that wimminz never lie about rape. So I think I’ll believe this wimminz, and I believe we should hear her courageous and inspiring story.

Now in theaters: An uplifting cinematic event, and a truly great testament to the moral uprightness of America. Has anyone seen it yet?

Full disclosure: the producer of this film hates my guts.

My parents join ol’ Nick in wondering how I could have wandered so far astray. That aside, if anyone has the time to pen a review, I’d love to host it.

A brother gently admonishes yet another so-called “conservative” religious feminist. (Courtesy of Heidi & Family)

Counseling, Feelings, and the Roles of Husband and Wife

2015 Marriage and Divorce Statistics (Courtesy of Dalrock)

I made a phone call on Tuesday night, and did not speak a word to anyone until this morning (Thursday).

Wednesday was a training day for the rest of my staff down in Oakland, they left for the training before I even arrived to work. I had the office to myself. Maintenance requests by business owners are done online, and go directly to the Facility Supervisor. Rent was already collected, books balanced, conference calls caught up, and I am exceptional at what I do for a living, which means usually in this building, fires are put out even before they are ignited……..the phone didn’t ring, no deliveries. No small talk with business owners. No complaints from the neighbors.

I could have stayed home. It was one of those days when everything was already handled, and the building just ran itself. The boiler and chiller units ran automatically. The lighting system pre-programmed by me worked seamlessly. The doors to the property locked automatically at 6PM. The alarm-security system kicked on by itself.

Millions more people are going to be obsolete in the next decade or so if this keeps up. I include myself in that list. If not obsolete….it will be a one or two day a week thing with fewer benefits and lower wages……..

I did get caught up on our own filing system with contracts, reports, revenue and cost analysis. All done in silence. Not a word spoken. All day, and into that afternoon! The sound only of flipping pages, a cross pen on paper signing documents to be locked in a filing system. Cabinets and file drawers opened and closed. The hum of lights. The sound of a passing car outside. It was even a light business day at the property. Not many clients or visitors. It was just one of those rare days when nothing happens at work………

You are probably wondering about “the phone call” that I had Tuesday night………it was to a woman who “doesn’t like me that way” or is put off by my Christian beliefs and practice. We had a good date the Saturday before over dinner. I like the conversation. I liked her company. She was cute, half my age and it was the first real date that I had, well……probably ever. Group dates from college years don’t count in my book. Going out with guy-pals in the halcylon-electric nights of the late 1990’s with their girlfriends to the reflection of neon on wet pavement, crowded Taxi rides, all in a haze of marijuana smoke and ties askew with unbuttoned collar don’t count either.

The woman and I met for Indian, and I was kind of surprised she agreed to a date with me. I met her a few weeks prior at an “English Beat” concert down in nearby Petaluma. I was expecting “dad” jokes from her, or her just using me for a “nice dinner” while she then went out afterward to go blow Chad on her knees in a urine-soaked men’s bathroom floor, then submitting fully to him only to complain to her bitchy-but-cute girlfriends that “men are jerks” over Sunday brunch in Marin, Larkspur, Novato, Santa Rosa or Bodega…….

She gave me her celli after we were both thrown out during the last thirty minutes of the above mentioned concert, and after toying with the idea for almost a week, I did. I asked her out to Indian, she agreed.

Low heels, skirt, blouse….she wasn’t dressed like she was at the concert in keks, dumps, and a sleeveless top.

The meal was a pulling-burn of curries, pungent spices, creams, naans, marsala, tamarind, and chutney…..we both thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. The conversation was fantastic, lots of laughs, and I learned a bit about her and myself if truth be told.

She is a native of the area (which means family has some wealth), parents are still married (they both are a hair older than me), and she works as a payroll accountant at a local, but famous winery. She shares a house with a few other women that she overall gets along with. She has a younger brother who is some golf prodigy or has the potentials to be semi-pro or even pro someday.

Plates, picked up, a large crowd all around us and when the check was dropped, she said “First date right? Dutch down the middle, including the tip. Sound fair to you?”

I nodded and smiled as I reached for the check, she said “The damage was worth it, I really had an awesome time!” She then added, “I do tip on the heavy side because I was once a waitress at Denny’s, and these folks live on their tips….so I always tip heavier….because you know…..waiters put up with a lot of nonsense.”

I agreed. Check split and paid. I took her hand, and escorted her out on to the busy downtown street. I lit a cigarette and asked her if she wanted to drop by for tea at my place….it was only a few blocks away. “Totally!” she smiled looking up to me…….

The street was packed with white lights strung through the trees, bustling cafes, crowded sidewalks, loud brew pubs and shops that seemed abustle even at this time of the evening. It was a gorgeous California night. We walked and talked all the way back to my place, holding hands sharing a laugh here and there…..

So this is how it is???????????? Is this what guys always talk about? I feel good. She seems really receptive to me……..I like her, I would totally do this again, and I like the conversations we have been having…..she loves music, wait til she sees my vinyl collection!!!!

At my place, the cat immediately noticed I had a guest with me, and made a fast dart n’ dash for the safety of the closet and my laundry basket. She laughed, and seemed surprised I owned a cat.

“Don’t worry,” I smirked, “He’ll be out in a few minutes showing off to you and demanding to be petted. He’s a bit shy.”

“Like you?” She replied, looking up and smiling at me.

I began to make a pot of tea, and she then noticed all my records……..a few thousand of them……I told her to have fun, and go ahead and swim in the collection…………

[Editor: This is the first part in a series of works by Emil Marchand. Find the second part here.]