i don't need no stinkin man

I DON’T NEED NO STINKIN MAN


At first blush it might appear that I am ragging yet again on feminism. Well, that is a bonus of course but as you know every once in awhile, about every other week, I get myself all uppity and agitated about the end of the Oil Age and just talk about it to no end. Valiantly, you wade through my nonsense, my screening wale, your eyes watering from pain and your brain hurting worse than the time your buddy bet you a dollar you couldn’t down a gallon of moonshine in ten minutes and the next morning you woke up in Cambodia in a house of transvestite prostitutes. In the strange and oddly never ending quest to wrestle a nugget of wisdom from me ( hey, it’s free, right? ) you read through everything, hoping against hope that I might have slipped up and included something that was worth your time at least once this week. Of course, this seems awful silly to me, especially since I went to seven days a week publishing. That decreased your odds of finding something worthy by 29%.

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When I was working at the casino one of my co-workers was a pretty neat gal. She was middle aged and had been around the block a few too many times. Not around the block as in easy, but as in screwed over a few times. As only frequently divorced and financially unstable people can, she was rabid in her views. I don’t need no stinkin man. That was her battle cry. She was rightfully proud, having bought and paid for her own home ( this was Carson City, a Yuppie Scum enclave and even the “cheapest” dwellings were insanely overpriced years before the housing bubble- may all the California pukes who bought taxpayer subsidized housing and then sold it and moved out of state and jacked up the local real estate prices and yet still expected that the lower wage scum would genuflect before them, eyes downcast, offering to debase themselves for the supreme pleasure of waiting on said scum and bringing them their X,Y, or Z retail item to indulge themselves in since they obviously didn’t have enough cottage cheese leg, over the belt bulging gut or cancerous rectum to proudly advertise their overindulgent lifestyle, may they all rot in the lower depths of Hell after they are brutally violated and put into the stewpot by the natives ).

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This has always come to my mind when a Janet Reno/Billary clone starts spouting about women’s lib and how they must Fight The Phallicrocy ( from the extremely hilarious movie “PCU” ). We don’t need your male oppressions, bitches! Okay, there might have been a few tiny instances were males used their upper body strength to slap down some uppity scank. Perhaps the ladies are still a tad angry that they couldn’t own property a hundred years ago. Oh, boo hoo. A few people of African-American ancestry ( who will hence forth be referred to as Black, since I’m White and am not allowed to have a hyphenated label such as Anglo-American, European-American or even Honky Mo Fo-American ) are still pissed about slavery, but I certainly didn’t have anything to do with it. And I’m pretty sure that rather than being slave owners, my great, great grandparents were exploited immigrants living in slums. So get over your damn serves. Jesus. Now, I’m not just picking on women. My view is that you have a genetic disposition from birth on manipulation, which is enforced through training from the age of vocalization, and in almost every case through recorded history and before, you have really been the ones in charge. Your complaints are a smokescreen. Males are easily controlled through two body organs and it ain’t like it is rocket surgery. But, to my point. Almost everyone that proclaims independence is deluding her/himself. We are all dependent on our petroleum slaves.

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Before that, we were dependant on the greed of strangers or family. I’m not discounting love and nurturing and the benefits of mutual dependency in a family unit or a tribe. Humans can’t live alone, isolated. We are a social animal. But you can’t discount the dark side of that. We are dependent on others. Since it is mutually beneficial we tend to minimize it. But we should be looking at it a lot closer, especially since with the end of oil we will revert back to old school decentralized dependency for survival. Sister, you ain’t going to be able to get along without no stinkin man then. Young adults will usually have no choice but to apprentice themselves ( slave labor at slave wages in return for learning a guild controlled trade ). Guys, whoever controls your collection of lice infested mud hovels, you will be his bitch. You will fight on his command, produce X amount of crops on his command. Right now, today, we are under the illusion that by and large we are independent. But, we are 100% dependent on oil inputs and those that control them. Your freedom is an illusion. The only difference from 300 years ago is that now the control has a velvet glove over the iron fist. Before, velvet was too expensive. Co-dependency has always been a reality. Stop thinking you are a nation of one. You are a nation of seven billion, and they all need the juice to keep pumping or they die.

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Stop fighting your dependency on others. It is a fact of life. You sneer at the Hippies who decried the establishment and then got Food Stamps. But you aren’t any better if you are honest with yourself. Reality is a bitch, and she will slap you if you act up. Honky mo-fo.

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