I’m here to let you know about an exciting new trend. At long last, it’s fashionable to hate women! At last we can spread the word that women are whores and bitches and get a publishing deal to boot. Ms. Robinson wrote about how prostitution memoirs have become the latest trend in chick lit. And now that everyone knows that it’s fun to be a prostitute, it’s good to know that being a misogynistic prick is hip, it’s cool, yeah, it’s right on!
I suppose it was inevitable. I suppose to some extent women have had it coming. I often wondered how, for years and years, any woman could say: “Men are pigs.” “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” “Men are basically only good for one thing, sex.” Etc. etc. Men were supposed to sheepishly take it. The argument went that men had oppressed women for so long, surely they wouldn’t mind taking a little kicking.
And now, as more and more men are more feminized, are more in touch with their emotions, do more childcare and housework etc - all good things - there inevitably had to be a group of men who decided they didn’t want to do what women wanted them to do: i.e., be nice, sensitive, and have the ability to operate a clitoris without causing friction burn. They decided it would be so much more fun to just stand up and simply tell it like it was: That women are scum and are put on this earth with the sole purpose of sucking their cocks.
Monmouth has done a brilliant satire of the genre on his blog, but here’s a quick rundown of the biggest knobs currently dominating the Prick Lit scene:
Tucker Max whose books include Suck My Dick You Stupid Cow and So I Came In Your Eye and it’s all swollen up, get over it Bitch
Quote: "Don't mistake me-staring at dozens of immense fake breasts spilling out of sports bras is fun for a while, but it gets old quick, especially when those breasts are attached to faces that tell the story vacant personalities do not. These women have circled the drain a few times, and no manner of plastic surgery or trips to the spa can hide that despair that years of whorish behavior and emotional prostitution leaves in the eyes."
Chad Kultgen. His book is called Just a Typical American Asshole
Quote: "Bloussant is a pill taken daily that is guaranteed to enlarge tits by at least one cup size ... I crushed up all the pills into a powder that I've been mixing into as many of Casey's meals as I can. I've been doing this for about a month and so far the results could be better."
Eric Schaeffer. Author of the book I love women really, my emotions are just buried really deep, under my ex-girlfriend's head in the back garden
Quote: "I mean we're men. We're wired to see a woman, smash her on the head with a bone, drag her unconscious body back to our apartment by the hair, and f*** her. I think you all should give us a break and, in fact, a little credit."
Neil Strauss. Wierdo who gives seduction tips. His most famous book is: I need a lot of fancy tricks to make women sleep with me because I have a very small penis
Quote: "Seduction is a dark art. Every woman I met seemed disposable and replaceable. The better a seducer I became, the less I loved women."
Now, I don't want to brag - but I anticipated this trend back in May when I penned a Prick Lit piece from the point of view of legend in his own lunchbox troika. For those who don’t know troika, it is quite obvious that he has never met a woman worthy of riding his pork sword. So I did him a little favor. Knowing Nigella Lawson is his ideal woman, I constructed this fantasy scenario for the dear boy. And now, without further ado, I give you:
When Troika met Nigella
The scene: A dinner party in Islington, which Nigella is catering for a group of stuck up media types.
While Nigella is in the kitchen, troika approaches her from behind, slaps her arse and burps.
“Got any Stella? The Belgian beer they’re serving out there tastes like rat's piss.”
Nigella spins round, cleavage a-quiver over her low cut gown.
“Do you mind? Who do you think you are, talking to me like that, not to mention man handling me in such an intimate way?”
“Yeah, I know who you are. Nigella pissing Lawson. So, do you?”
“Do I what?” says Nigella, licking batter provocatively from her spoon.
“Have any Stella?”
“I can’t think what you mean.”
“Never mind," Troika says, taking the spoon from her and throwing it aside. “Listen, this might be your lucky night, because I quite fancy putting my pork sword into your toad in the hole.”
“I beg your pardon? I am married you know.”
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll be in and out in under ten minutes.”
Troika grabs her tits, sticks his head between them and makes a snuffling sound.
She starts to pant. “But what about my soufflé? It’s in the oven. It’ll be ruined!”
“Stuff your soufflé.”
“Oh, well, I must admit you are rather a charmer, albeit in a rather Neanderthal way. Go on then. How do you want me?”
“Oh, just lie down on the granite top and show us your muff.”
“Very well.” She lies down, lifts up her dress and urgently pulls down her knickers.
Troika kneels down and spreads her legs.
“Fucking hell, just my luck to pull a posh bint with a stubbly chuff. I don’t want to get razor burn off your badly shaven minge.”
“Oh, oh, please! Thrust your tongue deep into my vulva.”
“All right, but only because you’re not a chav. Not every piece of skirt would get this sort of regal treatment.” He goes down on her for a while.
“You brute! You animal! You’ve ignited a flicker in me that’s about to set me aflame. Oh, there. Stay right there!” Presses his head into her crotch.
“Oh chuffing hell, I’ve been on the job three minutes, what gives? I haven’t got all night to wait for you to come, you know. I’m going to flip you over and finish off like that.”
Rolls her onto her stomach, and, after a few thrusts, pulls out, punches the air and shouts “Goal!” spraying his load in every direction.
Troika idly wipes his cock on the velvet curtains, before zipping up his fly.
“Sorry about that, some of it got on this tray of pistachio sprinkled apricots stuffed with crème fraiche. I think they should be good to go if you wipe them down a bit. See you around, love.”
Troika wanders off.
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