A refreshing blogosphere development is something called the “manosphere.” The manosphere is a mangy collection of young male bloggers that have had it with man hating feminism. I’m an old boomer fart, not exactly the manosphere demographic, but I see their point. I remember when rational1 feminists set their sights on “equal pay for equal work.” I fully supported pay equity and, when you correct for actual hours worked, that battle has been won in oppressive western cultures.2 But, as every married man knows, what women ask for is seldom what they really want.
Equity was never the goal of radical feminists! Radical feminists are nasty menstruating socialists. Their perfect world looks a lot like an old-fashioned new-man communist utopia: a utopia that was rudely rejected for all sorts of Gulag’ey reasons. Sadly, radical feminists don’t take rejection gracefully. Once a month their bitter frustrations manifest as malignant misandry. Yeah, “femnazis” are real and they’re everywhere! Femnazicism rears its ugly bull dyke head in repressive campus speech codes, phony palimony suits, bogus rape claims, “fat acceptance” campaigns, and tiresome PMS laced whining about how hard it is to find a real man. Well ladies, I am going to let you in on a little guy secret; it’s much harder to find a real woman!
What I am about to say will strike manospherians, and real men everywhere, as obvious but we can no longer count on men being men. There are a lot of misguided white knights and whipped manginas out there so grab your sanitary napkins and brace for reality.
In pre-pussy-boy days, men looked for, fought over, and highly valued “three C” women.
What the hell is a “three C” woman? A three C woman understands men. She has intuitively, or intellectually, grasped that human males are simple short-lived creatures that are biologically programmed to seek three things from woman: copulation, cooking and cleaning – the three Cs.
You can determine a man’s age by how he sorts his three Cs. When we’re young copulation is our absolute number one priority. Given a choice between copulation, cooking and cleaning we’ll always pick copulation. When we’re older, more settled, and our frantic need for copulation subsides, given a choice of fine cuisine or fine ass, we may choose the former. Finally, in our limp dotage, when Viagra no longer works, gently wiping the dribble off our chins, (cleaning), after a fine meal, (cooking), is greatly appreciated. Ladies if the three Cs are graciously on tap we’ll happily put up with any amount of lady-shit. It sounds simple because it is!3
Bang us, feed us, and cleanup afterwards, without nagging resentment, and we will love, cherish, protect, work, and die for you! And, here’s the good news; you don’t have to be a Victoria Secret maximum babe to pull this off. In purely economic terms, any comely young woman who masters the three Cs is literally worth her weight in gold!4 At current gold prices, one woman weight is about $2,300.000 US. Amortized over a fifty-year marriage that works out to around $45,000 per year. Guys, just try paying for hookers, gourmet takeout, and maid services for a measly $45,000 a year. When you throw love into the deal the quality three C woman is the biggest bargain out there. So ladies, if you really want a real man, master your three Cs and you’ll have your pick of them.
- Rational feminist was not oxymoronic when the movement started.↩
- Not such much in Clitoridectomy happy nonwestern societies.↩
- Male maintenance requires some real work. Men expect to put in long hours looking after the women in their lives and they expect women to reciprocate. Unfortunately modern feminism labels such reciprocation “oppression.”↩
- I am assuming a normal female weight of less than sixty-five kilograms. Obese land fe-whales are not worth their weight in gold.↩