To be a great chef it takes dedication, knowledge of various spices, and some amount of sensitivity. That’s why men make better chefs than women, because women have none of those three. Knowing that cinnamon tastes good on their Frapacinos, or whatever candy-ass coffee nightmare that cost a man somewhere 3.95, is not a knowledge of spices.
The kind of chefs women make are the Martha Stewart types; putting glitter on pinecones and that kind of childish bullshit. In other words, making something shitty even shittier by fucking around with it with no purpose.
When a man is a chef, he makes plans and then he executes them — man style. That means directly and as fastidiously as a fucking comet. That’s a recipe for a phenomenal meal. When a woman is a chef, however, she behaves exactly as all women behave in their daily lives: traipsing around like drunken marionettes with their heads in Mexico and without a thought in the world for consequences.
Often times you will hear of a woman’s life being ridiculously fucked up and you’ll wonder, how could it have gotten so bad? Was this woman just traipsing around like a drunken marionette with her head in Mexico?
Yup, you got it.
Note also that the title chef cannot be bastardized into the feminine form. For example: policewoman or lady doctor. This can also be said for the title of judge, which I find interesting. Knowing women as I do, though, I’m sure they’ll find a way to ruin a good thing. Perhaps cheftress?
Women are terrible chefs because they ricochet off their own actions like pinball, never knowing what in the fuck is going on at all. They have zero philosophy.
January 7, 2008
January 6, 2008
Women suck at computers
Computers are all over the place: the bank, the sciences, the workplace — in other words, places where women are not. Is this a coincidence? You bet your ass that no it isn’t.
Women face countless problems in their pipe-dream of equality. The biggest being that the whole notion is childish and only realistic to an insane person or someone who has never had a job.
Women also suck at computers.
It’s the same way that men suck at being happy when their best friend gets dumped and then has to rely on them for emotional support. That just doesn’t make the kind of sense to us.
Computers are that way for women.
You see, women don’t understand computers because they don’t understand the basics of cause and effect — that the one causes the other. It’s childlike in its simplicity, I know, but it’s absolutely true.
This backwards mentality applies to computers just as easily as it applies to every other aspect of a woman’s life, which she is right about to hopelessly fuck up yet again by doing the exact same thing and expecting it somehow to magically work this time.
I saw this in action just yesterday while waiting in line for an ATM at the bank. For some absurd reason, a woman had been put in charge of her own finances and had promptly lost her ATM card in the machine. She started frantically pressing buttons, expecting that at any moment something profoundly contrary to what had happened was about to happen. Guess what. It didn’t.
What I’m saying here is that men are better than women because every time a man drops a rock in to a ditch, he knows it’s going to fall. Women think that if they do it enough, it will turn into a Snicker’s bar.
Women face countless problems in their pipe-dream of equality. The biggest being that the whole notion is childish and only realistic to an insane person or someone who has never had a job.
Women also suck at computers.
It’s the same way that men suck at being happy when their best friend gets dumped and then has to rely on them for emotional support. That just doesn’t make the kind of sense to us.
Computers are that way for women.
You see, women don’t understand computers because they don’t understand the basics of cause and effect — that the one causes the other. It’s childlike in its simplicity, I know, but it’s absolutely true.
This backwards mentality applies to computers just as easily as it applies to every other aspect of a woman’s life, which she is right about to hopelessly fuck up yet again by doing the exact same thing and expecting it somehow to magically work this time.
I saw this in action just yesterday while waiting in line for an ATM at the bank. For some absurd reason, a woman had been put in charge of her own finances and had promptly lost her ATM card in the machine. She started frantically pressing buttons, expecting that at any moment something profoundly contrary to what had happened was about to happen. Guess what. It didn’t.
What I’m saying here is that men are better than women because every time a man drops a rock in to a ditch, he knows it’s going to fall. Women think that if they do it enough, it will turn into a Snicker’s bar.
January 5, 2008
Oil on the Brain
I read an article a few months ago about some fundamental differences between the brains of men and women and I would like to discuss one of the more interesting points.
Let me also stress up front that I don’t remember really where I read this article. It was in some journal of scientific findings that is quite reputable. That much you can be sure of.
Since all of us men spent the majority of our time in eighth grade science class listening and learning instead of passing notes around about boys and cycles and giggling like a broken dentist’s drill, I’m sure I don’t need to mention how important the brain is in the daily lives of both men and women. Moreso in men obviously — because women use their brains less than men.
The article that I’m talking about said that men’s brain cells are coated in a kind of lubricating goo that conducts neurological impulses faster. Faster impulses mean faster thinking, which made a lot of sense to me in a hurry.
The article did plenty of pussy-footing and bending over backward with all kinds of crazy bullshit like ‘quick thinking does not mean better thinking’, when in fact everyone knows it does. But the data was there in buckets to prove the obvious: that women’s brains function about as fucking well as a dry Slip-n-Slide. That’s how women’s thought processes work, they run and jump and hit the rubber like a lawn dart.
Evolution says — apparently — that men have evolved into quick act-ers and do-ers with their mighty lubricated brains. Evolution also says that women have evolved to sit on the fucking couch and do nothing.
Let me also stress up front that I don’t remember really where I read this article. It was in some journal of scientific findings that is quite reputable. That much you can be sure of.
Since all of us men spent the majority of our time in eighth grade science class listening and learning instead of passing notes around about boys and cycles and giggling like a broken dentist’s drill, I’m sure I don’t need to mention how important the brain is in the daily lives of both men and women. Moreso in men obviously — because women use their brains less than men.
The article that I’m talking about said that men’s brain cells are coated in a kind of lubricating goo that conducts neurological impulses faster. Faster impulses mean faster thinking, which made a lot of sense to me in a hurry.
The article did plenty of pussy-footing and bending over backward with all kinds of crazy bullshit like ‘quick thinking does not mean better thinking’, when in fact everyone knows it does. But the data was there in buckets to prove the obvious: that women’s brains function about as fucking well as a dry Slip-n-Slide. That’s how women’s thought processes work, they run and jump and hit the rubber like a lawn dart.
Evolution says — apparently — that men have evolved into quick act-ers and do-ers with their mighty lubricated brains. Evolution also says that women have evolved to sit on the fucking couch and do nothing.
January 4, 2008
I cannot tell a lie…because I’m a man.
Women are all liars. At least that’s what every man in the world thinks. Indeed I myself thought this for quite some time.
That’s when I realized I was wrong.
But not wrong in the way a woman is wrong whenever she opens her mouth or engages in any kind internal dialogue; wrong in way that is simply not right and not dangerous. Here’s the real scoop.
Women are as allergic to history as children who are allergic to bees are allergic to bees — this includes even their own history. Let’s turn to The History Channel for just a moment. We know the audience of the History Channel is predominantly male because all the commercials they run are for things like home ownership, stock investment, and local and national political agendas. These are things that women have about as much place in as a steering wheel on a toilet.
To us men, the History Channel is like a sweet, sweet nectar — a repository of precious facts and details about our world that we as men can leverage into solutions for the future. It makes us feel good about ourselves and it makes us feel positive about the future. Let’s take the gas crisis for instance.
Gas is running out, and prices are running up. That’s a serious problem, but as men let’s take just a moment and solve it. First, I will draw a parallel from The History Channel. I can easily remember one of many documentaries on what did General Dwight D. Eisenhower did when he faced many problems of equal or even greater severity during World War II. What he did was stop talking about it like a woman (when it was appropriate) and he took care of it. Problem solved thanks to the History Channel.
See, women are interested only in causing problems, not solving them. They do this to keep us men occupied while they play house and tea party and other such fantasy games of bullshit that involves spending your money on matching this to that and secretly fantasizing about the UPS delivery man. It’s the same all over the world.
To even a fully grown-up woman, this fantasy life of silliness and pretend is very much a reality. That’s why all women are not liars. Because they delude themselves into remembering the past as they wish and not as it actually happened.
Technically that’s not a lie.
That’s when I realized I was wrong.
But not wrong in the way a woman is wrong whenever she opens her mouth or engages in any kind internal dialogue; wrong in way that is simply not right and not dangerous. Here’s the real scoop.
Women are as allergic to history as children who are allergic to bees are allergic to bees — this includes even their own history. Let’s turn to The History Channel for just a moment. We know the audience of the History Channel is predominantly male because all the commercials they run are for things like home ownership, stock investment, and local and national political agendas. These are things that women have about as much place in as a steering wheel on a toilet.
To us men, the History Channel is like a sweet, sweet nectar — a repository of precious facts and details about our world that we as men can leverage into solutions for the future. It makes us feel good about ourselves and it makes us feel positive about the future. Let’s take the gas crisis for instance.
Gas is running out, and prices are running up. That’s a serious problem, but as men let’s take just a moment and solve it. First, I will draw a parallel from The History Channel. I can easily remember one of many documentaries on what did General Dwight D. Eisenhower did when he faced many problems of equal or even greater severity during World War II. What he did was stop talking about it like a woman (when it was appropriate) and he took care of it. Problem solved thanks to the History Channel.
See, women are interested only in causing problems, not solving them. They do this to keep us men occupied while they play house and tea party and other such fantasy games of bullshit that involves spending your money on matching this to that and secretly fantasizing about the UPS delivery man. It’s the same all over the world.
To even a fully grown-up woman, this fantasy life of silliness and pretend is very much a reality. That’s why all women are not liars. Because they delude themselves into remembering the past as they wish and not as it actually happened.
Technically that’s not a lie.
Anyone But Hillary 2008 Campaign Posters
1. Make things manlier — which I’ve done by challenging you all to my 2008 Man Challenge. I’ve already completed four out of five. Better dust your balls off and get to work.
2. Watch out for any bullshit on the horizon.
3. Take it easy.
God didn’t create the universe in six days and then take it easy on the seventh. He did it in two and then took a permanent vacation. Mondays He left for men to get to work and start building civilization. Monday is the manliest day there is. That’s why women hate them.
The following are promotional posters I created to keep an eye on the biggest storm of bullshit on the horizon since the ending scene of Terminator: Hillary Clinton running for president.
2. Watch out for any bullshit on the horizon.
3. Take it easy.
God didn’t create the universe in six days and then take it easy on the seventh. He did it in two and then took a permanent vacation. Mondays He left for men to get to work and start building civilization. Monday is the manliest day there is. That’s why women hate them.
The following are promotional posters I created to keep an eye on the biggest storm of bullshit on the horizon since the ending scene of Terminator: Hillary Clinton running for president.
Driving me nuts.
When it comes to the simple task of driving, be it a car, train or fortune 500 company; men are better than women — although to be certain in the final category there has yet to be a group of evidence which is sufficiently large. Am I right business men.
This is for several reasons.
When a man drives anything — even a relationship into the ground which he may choose to do for good reason, he is thinking of only three things: driving, not hitting things, and how to fix problems on a global scale. The third topic may seem overwhelming as such, but as men we have a unique ability to prioritize what we’re thinking about in order to get all jobs done and take care of all outstanding business at maximum efficiency and without cluster fucking everything that we touch. It is this paring that makes us men good at driving. Women, however, are completely different.
All women are aware of the fact that shortly after driving, she will find herself among other people — be it friends, family, or various cashiers; and as selfishly as possibly, a woman is only thinking about the way to best attract attention to herself when she gets to this future spot. What a woman is thinking about as she is driving, is nothing but the opposite. She is thinking about her makeup probably, or how to spin her latest near collision with a similarly out of control woman on the road into a panic-laced tale of woe guaranteed to win her all kinds of delicious sympathy.
Sympathy is a woman’s crack cocaine. She’ll do anything for it. Including driving down a perfectly straight road like a lopsided bowling ball.
Also, the argument that men are not better than women at driving because women are subconsciously doing it on purpose, is not a valid argument.
This is for several reasons.
When a man drives anything — even a relationship into the ground which he may choose to do for good reason, he is thinking of only three things: driving, not hitting things, and how to fix problems on a global scale. The third topic may seem overwhelming as such, but as men we have a unique ability to prioritize what we’re thinking about in order to get all jobs done and take care of all outstanding business at maximum efficiency and without cluster fucking everything that we touch. It is this paring that makes us men good at driving. Women, however, are completely different.
All women are aware of the fact that shortly after driving, she will find herself among other people — be it friends, family, or various cashiers; and as selfishly as possibly, a woman is only thinking about the way to best attract attention to herself when she gets to this future spot. What a woman is thinking about as she is driving, is nothing but the opposite. She is thinking about her makeup probably, or how to spin her latest near collision with a similarly out of control woman on the road into a panic-laced tale of woe guaranteed to win her all kinds of delicious sympathy.
Sympathy is a woman’s crack cocaine. She’ll do anything for it. Including driving down a perfectly straight road like a lopsided bowling ball.
Also, the argument that men are not better than women at driving because women are subconsciously doing it on purpose, is not a valid argument.
January 3, 2008
Women can’t spell
Did you know that women are atrocious spellers? It’s an obscure caveat of womankind that will usually elude detection, but I assure that it’s absolutely true.
In order to prove this I’ve compiled a short list of words that women have historically suffered only complete and disastrous failure when attempting to spell. Here is the list:
Chevrolet
bullion
kernels
sandwich
duct tape
beans
trophy
If you want to see this phenomenon in action (and have quite a good laugh at the absurd letters women will attempt to piece together in desperation) prepare yourself for quite a struggle. You see when asked to do things that they are no good at (ie, driving, thinking that does not involve puppies or how much they hate their best friends) women will defer the task immediately to the nearest man. This includes spelling.
Since it is part of our nature to be of assistance — to be constructive and positive at all times (probably because we know so much about so many fucking things), this ploy will work one hundred percent of the time. It’s typical woman manipulation though and nothing else.
I tested woman’s inability to spell properly in the real world by asking a group of ten women to spell the word foundation, which I learned had something to do with make-up completely by accident in an episode of CSI. I felt that this word-familiarity would give women the manufactured advantage that they so desperately need and crave in every fucking thing that they do.
My results not only proved conclusively that women cannot spell, but also that women will refuse to do any task that they cannot.
Now that we say for certain that men are better than women at spelling as well as everything else, I think as men it is our duty as the superior spellers par excellence to save women the disgrace and humiliation of having to clumsily defer any such spelling requests.
To a woman, the alphabet and its inner workings are like the mysteries of a Jack in the Box in the eyes of a child.
In order to prove this I’ve compiled a short list of words that women have historically suffered only complete and disastrous failure when attempting to spell. Here is the list:
Chevrolet
bullion
kernels
sandwich
duct tape
beans
trophy
If you want to see this phenomenon in action (and have quite a good laugh at the absurd letters women will attempt to piece together in desperation) prepare yourself for quite a struggle. You see when asked to do things that they are no good at (ie, driving, thinking that does not involve puppies or how much they hate their best friends) women will defer the task immediately to the nearest man. This includes spelling.
Since it is part of our nature to be of assistance — to be constructive and positive at all times (probably because we know so much about so many fucking things), this ploy will work one hundred percent of the time. It’s typical woman manipulation though and nothing else.
I tested woman’s inability to spell properly in the real world by asking a group of ten women to spell the word foundation, which I learned had something to do with make-up completely by accident in an episode of CSI. I felt that this word-familiarity would give women the manufactured advantage that they so desperately need and crave in every fucking thing that they do.
My results not only proved conclusively that women cannot spell, but also that women will refuse to do any task that they cannot.
Now that we say for certain that men are better than women at spelling as well as everything else, I think as men it is our duty as the superior spellers par excellence to save women the disgrace and humiliation of having to clumsily defer any such spelling requests.
To a woman, the alphabet and its inner workings are like the mysteries of a Jack in the Box in the eyes of a child.
January 2, 2008
Space…the Male Frontier
If you’re anything like me, you have never asked yourself why a woman has never been to the moon because the answer is obvious.
Actually, the answer may surprise you.
The male instinct is a good one — it’s solid when the chips are down, and in this case it tells us men that women have never been to the moon because the moon is chalk full of science — like a robot, the natural enemy of womankind (both technology and robots). This is absolutely true, however, only true in the way that there are no unicorns underwater. Yes, unicorns cannot breathe water, but they also do not fucking exist. So what are we talking about here.
The real reason that women have never been to the moon has very little to do with their astounding ability to turn even the simplest of technologies into a catastrophic fucking unsolvable mystery on par with Stonehenge.
Remember the last time you were making some hot-hot jokes around a woman or womans, or the last time you were enjoying a cinematographic masterpiece like Die Hard 3, Payback, or The South Park Movie — or any other time that you were trying to mind your own fucking business?
Well what happened?
That’s right, said woman or womans ruined it with a torrent of shitty comments and/or nay saying. Perhaps something like, “Nicolas Cage thinks he’s so great” (in a sarcastic tone though. Nicholas Cage only thinks he’s so great because he’s fucking awesome), or maybe a “those are fake”, “you only think you’re funny”, or a “cigarettes cause cancer”.
Cigarettes cause cancer? No shit, I didn’t know that. Guess what talking any more during Face Off causes?
Can you imagine this manner of hijink aboard the USS Space Ship to the moon?
That’s why women will never go to the moon, because of their piss-poor, wet-blanket attitudes.
Actually, the answer may surprise you.
The male instinct is a good one — it’s solid when the chips are down, and in this case it tells us men that women have never been to the moon because the moon is chalk full of science — like a robot, the natural enemy of womankind (both technology and robots). This is absolutely true, however, only true in the way that there are no unicorns underwater. Yes, unicorns cannot breathe water, but they also do not fucking exist. So what are we talking about here.
The real reason that women have never been to the moon has very little to do with their astounding ability to turn even the simplest of technologies into a catastrophic fucking unsolvable mystery on par with Stonehenge.
Remember the last time you were making some hot-hot jokes around a woman or womans, or the last time you were enjoying a cinematographic masterpiece like Die Hard 3, Payback, or The South Park Movie — or any other time that you were trying to mind your own fucking business?
Well what happened?
That’s right, said woman or womans ruined it with a torrent of shitty comments and/or nay saying. Perhaps something like, “Nicolas Cage thinks he’s so great” (in a sarcastic tone though. Nicholas Cage only thinks he’s so great because he’s fucking awesome), or maybe a “those are fake”, “you only think you’re funny”, or a “cigarettes cause cancer”.
Cigarettes cause cancer? No shit, I didn’t know that. Guess what talking any more during Face Off causes?
Can you imagine this manner of hijink aboard the USS Space Ship to the moon?
That’s why women will never go to the moon, because of their piss-poor, wet-blanket attitudes.
January 1, 2008
Lynne Spears’ Parenting Book, Chapters 1-5
I cannot stress how genuine I am in what I’m about to say. Lynne Spears — Britney Spears’ mother — writing a parenting book will do more for parenting than Dr. Spock, flame retardant clothing, and the VCR combined. Lynne Spears writing a book on parenting could single-handedly end the profession of stripping.
Imagine if the biggest loser in the world wrote a book on how to get laid.
Imagine if Michael Jackson wrote a book on brand management.
Imagine if Hilary Clinton wrote a book on how to keep your husband from finger-banging fat pigs behind your back.
Imagine if one of the worst parents in the world wrote a book.
If you have a daughter and you don’t want her to grow into a greasy, pregnant whore, read Lynne Spears’ book and do the opposite of everything it says.
Through some hillbilly amalgamation of and hooch and ether fumes, Lynn Spears has managed to raise some of the worst female role models in history. She has plumbed the depths of poor parenting in a most spectacular way and come up swinging. I, for one, can’t think of a better arena for her personal insights into the world of knocked-up catastrophes than a parenting advice book. In fact, I can see the chapters now.
Chapter 1: Mountain Dew. It’s Got What Babies Need.
Don’t feed your baby Mountain Dew instead of breast milk.
It may come as a surprise to women, but breasts aren’t only meant to score free drinks at T.G.I. Friday’s. Breasts are also meant to nourish young. Hillbilly mothers feed their babies Mountain Dew instead of breast milk for the same reason they don’t put their kids in car seats. They don’t fucking care. Trailer trash pop divas can pump out kids just as fast as their slovenly sisters. You can take the womb out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the womb.
What else but maternal apathy could explain letting your daughter miss a bunch of fucking court dates and mandatory drug tests. Chapter one in Lynne Spears’ new parenting book must include such gems as, “Fuck court. It’s not like they can take your kids”, “Why dogs are better than babies” and, “Car seats? Who needs em!”
Chapter 2: Finding the Right Baby Daddy
Under no circumstances should you find a “baby daddy”.
Finding a good “baby daddy” is like finding a 1960 tobacco sunburst Les Paul for under 300 dollars. I have only seen it once and it was broke as shit.
The only problem a man isn’t the answer to is, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this baby?” Fuck you. Give it to the state. At least orphans have less chance of going to prison than kids raised by divorced mothers.
Chapter 3: Be yourself.
Do not be yourself. Especially if you’re a woman.
Being yourself as a woman means sleazy, amateur porn videos, and violent outbursts and screaming tantrums that take place somewhere WC Fields used to vomit. That’s desecration of a penistorical manument.
Chapter 4: The Difference Between Sexy and Slutty.
The difference between sexy and slutty is the difference between a mini-van and a Lexus. They both get you where you want to go, one just costs a lot more and you can’t fit as many guys inside of it.
If you don’t want your daughter to have the reputation of World’s Second Biggest Whore, or your other daughter to get knocked up before she can vote, make sure you especially do not follow the advice in this chapter. If Lynn Spears gave her kids a stuffed Grover when they were small, hang a stuffed Grover from a tree in your front yard and light it on fire.
Chapter 5: Pregnancy. It Can Happen to Anyone!
No it can’t. It can only happen to dumb-fucks who don’t know how to look in their date’s purse to make sure she’s taking birth control before they fuck her without a condom. Condoms are stupid. Evel Knievel didn’t use them and neither do I.
One more baby fixes everything.
Any book on mothering written by the mother of a skinhead deemed unfit by the government to babysit her own children despite millions of dollars in royalties, merchandising, and shit, would be a compendium so rich in parenting anti-advice, it should be distributed for free by hospitals. Polio vaccines may save lives, but 26 years of fuck-ups in 200 pages saves you from seeing your daughter on a pole.
Don’t ask a man which he would rather have if you don’t want to hear a scary answer.
Unfortunately, Lynne Spears’ parenting book was swallowed by the gravity of its own hubris. Due to the illegitimate, teenage pregnancy of her second, forgettable daughter, the book was postponed indefinitely.
Comment below if you would like to see this book rushed into production.
A loss for parents.
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