Moan Gripe Whinge

Women Are Wonderful The female brain is more densely packed with neurons and dendrites, providing concentrated processing power -- and more thought-linking capability. Hara Estroff Marano - 6 min

More thought-linking capability, eh?

Hmm. Maybe.

But what, exactly, are women thinking about with all this allegedly extra thought-linking capability?

Eh?

Well. I will tell you.

They are thinking about very little that is actually worth thinking about.

That's what they are thinking about!

For example, if you want to know what younger women are thinking about then listen to them talking to each other.

They have a one-track mind.

Boyfriends and men.

About whom they are constantly moaning and griping.

Yap. Yap. Yap.

Moan. Gripe. Whinge.

It never stops.

It never ends.

It never ceases to bewilder.

And if, perchance, they happen not to be talking about members of the male gender, then they are almost certainly talking about the way that things look rather than about what they are.

And moaning about them.

Anyway.

Do not fall for this politically-corrected BS that females are intellectually superior to males.

They are not.

They simply have a greater facility with language and with words.

And I use the word 'facility' in its loosest of senses!

After all, parrots can articulate words far better than can dogs, or even chimpanzees.

But are they cleverer?

(Altogether now.)

NO!

Indeed, the fact that women are more able than men to string together sequences of grammatically-correct sentences does not mean that they are more able to understand the world around them, and nor does it mean that they are talking any sense.

Grabulocks often flesk lobotolls when praxing slipes!

Anyway.

Apparently ...

Women's perceptual skills are oriented to quick -- call it intuitive -- people reading. Females are gifted at detecting the feelings and thoughts of others, inferring intentions, absorbing contextual clues and responding in emotionally appropriate ways.

... Oh really?

Then how come that men get all the blame when matters to do with relationships go wrong, eh?

Explain that to me, if you will!

And if western women are so wonderful at detecting feelings and thoughts and responding in 'emotionally appropriate ways' etc etc, then how come that they have failed so miserably to bring up their children properly - especially when they are single mothers who, presumably, remain un-handicapped by worthless male partners?

And how come that, apparently, they were 'oppressed' for so long, eh?

Explain that to me, if you will.

And look at this! LOL! ...

Mothers & Daughters Mothers and daughters argue more frequently and for longer than mothers and sons but the rows can bring them closer together, research has shown.

So much for the BS about females being 'gifted at detecting the feelings and thoughts of others, inferring intentions, absorbing contextual clues and responding in emotionally appropriate ways.'

In 'emotionally appropriate ways', eh?

In other words, arguing!

Ah yes. 

Very 'appropriate'.

Body Shape Black South African women are becoming dissatisfied with their body image. (link now defunct)

For years, males had dictated their daughters’, wives’ and partners’ size.

They must have force-fed them!

The psychologists quizzed 17 women, all aged around 21, from the Kwazulu Natal-based university and the findings will be presented at the British Psychological Society conference in London today.

Ah yes. These are today's psychologists at work.

They interview 17 young women who have been indoctrinated with the notion that they are helpless victims of something or other and, on this basis, they have a 'science' paper.

What a load of hooey!

Angry Harry's Revised Manifesto

1. All women to be sent straight to prison. No ifs or buts are admissible. Into prison they must go until they all admit to their guilt.

2. Children below the age of 15 - and women - to be beaten soundly every night before they go to sleep for all the bad things that they have done, or would have done if they had simply been given even the tiniest shred of an opportunity to do them.

3. After imprisonment and admission of guilt, all feminists to be deported to Afghanistan to learn a thing or two about oppression. Osama Bin Laden to be put in charge of the curriculum.

4. Women talking about their boyfriends, soap opera characters or celebrities to be ducked into freezing ponds until they beg for mercy. 

I cannot take it any longer. I am going insane!

I went shopping for some groceries in Tescos this afternoon. Big mistake. 

The sky was sunny. The temperature was, well, temperate! The flowers were beginning to bloom. And so I smiled benignly to everyone - even to the women and children - such was the goodness of my mood as I trotted merrily along the pavement. 

"Summer will soon be here," I predicted most expertly when a huge woman with a small dog said, "Nice day." 

The mini-market was crowded, so I picked up my shopping basket and pottered up and down the aisles trying to remember what the hell I was doing there. 

"Was it tea - or was it coffee?" I must have muttered to myself about a dozen times. "Why am I here?" 

It was no good, so in the end I decided to buy both - one small jar of coffee for the missus, and the most enormous box of teabags for myself. I then wandered around the place hoping - but failing - to trigger off some recently-faded memory about the reasons for my expedition to this particular store and, finally, I just bought a few items to do with cleaning bathrooms and lavatories. And then I headed for the queue.

In front of me there were two young women aged about 20. And for the whole time that I stood behind them, they talked only about celebrities and soap opera characters. And they referred to them by their first names - as if they actually knew them! Indeed, the only reason that I became aware that they were not actually talking about their own personal friends was because we were standing alongside the magazine racks, and one of them reached over and pointed out that there was, in fact, an article about 'Victoria' on page such-and-such.

In the meantime, behind me had arrived a bald man of about 25 and two much younger loud-mouthed women who seemed determined that everyone should hear their conversation. They prattled ceaselessly about some party that they had been to the night before and started imitating some of the people who had, apparently, been there. The man was silent, but grinned approvingly at them and nodded his head as they each made inane remarks about "Emma" and "Matt" that were supposed to be funny - which, decidedly, they were not. And their loud cackles of laughter made me cringe.

But it was the man, in the end, who I think got on my nerves the most. And let me explain why - because I did not actually hear him speak.

There was something about him that made him look as if he was quite intelligent. Don't ask me what this was, because I am not sure. Perhaps it was his eyes. They seemed alert. Perhaps it was the way that he sometimes looked around the place somewhat sheepishly to see who was looking at these cackling women. There was an apologetic air about him. He was embarrassed to be with them.

And then it dawned on me. One of the girls was particularly pretty. She was well dressed and wearing lots of make up; and she looked like a 'babe' - a tarty one. And she was clearly either his recently-acquired 'girlfriend', or he was aspiring to make this so. There was no doubt that she was many years younger than him. And the way that she overtly leant into him and gently pawed his arm on occasion while prattling and cackling like an idiot with the other young woman indicated that there was some kind of intimate relationship in the offing.

But what I ended up seeing was a grinning buffoon of a young man seemingly prepared to put up endlessly with the tedious company of an empty-headed young woman who had nothing to offer him except, presumably, some occasional access to what was inside her knickers - if he was 'lucky'.

What a pitiful man.

What.

A.

Loser!

And so, ...

5. All intelligent men who are prepared to waste their most valuable time and money pandering to stupid vacuous young women in the hope of being granted the occasional grope to be compelled, by law, to read Angry Harry's most fabulous website - so that their insufferable imbecility can be driven right out of them. 

Yo!

Anyway. When I got back home, my missus asked me where the toilet paper was. Aha! So that was the true reason for my expedition. 

"You can wipe your bottom on these," I said, pointing at the teabags. "Just make sure that we've made some tea with them first."

LOL!

No way was I going back out there!