Every time I get into my car and drive down the road I assume that every other driver that I encounter is a blithering idiot with barely the mental capacity to work out how to unlock his phone that he’s playing with while pretending to be in control of his vehicle. It’s a survival thing. I rode a motor bike for a very long time and I either you develop this attitude to negotiating traffic or you become an ex-person.
I don’t hate all of the other drivers, and I’m not a bad person for having this attitude; it’s simply what one must do to avoid as best as possible a nasty encounter with randomness.
Likewise with how I spend my free time. My free time is finite so I don’t want to waste it. With that in mind I do my very best to avoid participating in activities which will annoy me and deduct from my free time. You’re never going to see me go to any theme park ever. You can add organised tours to that list. Throw in organised fun of any kind while you’re at it. Afternoon tea as well. I don’t do afternoon tea. I did high tea once which was a horror from which I still have not fully recovered.
The same goes with the films that I select to watch. I am very picky in this area because it is two hours of my life down the drain if I make a mistake in the selection process. I don’t need a film reviewer to tell me whether or not the latest version of Little Women is any good. The production values could be out of this world but the only way you’ll get my butt in a seat to watch it is if you staple me there.
I also do not require the services of a film reviewer to influence my decision of whether or not I should pay money to see the latest crime caper, Ocean’s 8. For those of you who didn’t know, Ocean’s 8 is the latest brainchild of a film industry that has been overrun with libtards and has completely run out of ideas. The two are interrelated.
The film is a crime caper but with women in all of the important roles. This is the equivalent of remaking the aforementioned Little Women but with blokes doing all of the heavy lifting in the acting department. Chicks will not go to see it for obvious reasons, but men will not go to see it either. The only people who do go to see it will be those who have virtual points to score on social media, as well as people who barely survived a near miss with a lunatic while driving and who subsequently stumbled into the wrong movie theater with their hands shaking. By the time they realised where they were they didn’t want to get up from the front row and make the walk of shame.
Two of the stars of this film, Sandra Bullock and Cate Blanchett, have reacted to the unsurprisingly dismal performance of their artistic efforts by laying the blame at the feet of old white guys. Apparently lots of film reviewers are men, and although previously of the ability to accurately rate films when these two broads were receiving awards, now that things aren’t going their way it’s knives out and going for the jugular.
Nearly 80 per cent of film critics are male: their vision, sighed Bullock, is “skewed”. Men see films through a “prism of misunderstanding”, according to Blanchett, whatever that is.
Keep in mind that these are two of the most privileged women on the planet, and yes I used that word on purpose.
Straight white guys now routinely get the knife in the back from every single direction. It’s so bad that I’m now at the point where I negotiate my interactions with women the same way that I drive my car; I assume that they are going to be hostile to me and that they want to do me harm.
Honestly, at this point all of us on the receiving end may as well just come out and publicly declare ourselves to be misogynists. Just get it over with and out of the way. We’re in a war, a war of the sexes, and playing nice doesn’t get you anywhere. We learned that when we were kids; remember what happened if you invited the girls to play in the sandpit with you? Bad things, that’s what. When did we forget that? Puberty, I suppose.
Time to remember hard won lessons.