“Tolerance and apathy are the last virtues of a dying society.” –attributed to Aristotle
More evidence of how gelded conservatives are:
Instead of bemoaning the fact that no one had the cojones to throw those obnoxious fudgepackers out on their disease-ridden keesters, she takes pride in how “tolerant” (tolerant meaning cowardly) the middle-American patrons of the bar were. Is it any wonder conservatives have been unable to stop the disintegration of white societies when they accept all the tacit ground rules laid down by their supposed adversaries, in this case the assumption that public displays of homosexuality should be tolerated?
The only thing she gets halfway right is that, yes, the mainstream media does have an agenda to normalize and promote homosexuality, though she avoids going into exactly why the media has been pursuing this agenda for the last few decades.
But hey, at least she’s cute and fills out a bikini real nice…
You have to wonder if conservatism isn’t so washed-up at this point that it’s resorting to sex appeal (bikinis, former beauty queens) to keep men on board.
“[W]hile homosexuals vehemently reject being considered mentally ill, they have no problems regarding those who dislike homosexuality as mentally ill.” —homosexinfo.org
“A healthy society is life-affirming. Homosexuality is the metaphysical negation of life. Incapable of reproduction (giving life), it can replenish its numbers only by seduction.” –Don Feder*
Read the homosexual spin on the story here:
Now, heed well my words: until such time as they are free to push homoerotic material in every ad, every magazine, on every bus, street sign, and TV channel, queers are going to continue complaining about “homophobia.” They have only gotten started in their campaign to destroy the sexual mores of our society. You ain’t seen nothing yet.
Accusations of “homophobia” are not about promoting the so-called “rights” of an “oppressed minority,” they are about depriving normal straight people of the right to raise a family in an environment in which their children aren’t being continually exposed to the homosexual death culture (as per the Don Feder quote above, the homosexual counterculture is, quite literally, a death culture, since it in essence encourages people to not have children; and that’s to say nothing of AIDS and other diseases to which homosexual men are disproportionately subject due to their unhealthy lifestyles and sexual practices).
Note the progression thus far: in only a few decades, the homosexual movement has gone from such seemingly (to some people) reasonable demands as not having queer bars shut down by police, to now insisting, at threat of boycott, to having “the right” to publicly display homoerotic material anywhere they wish (and sometimes, to even engage in homosexual intercourse in public). It’s only going to get worse, folks. Much, much worse.**
There is no way that our heterosexual culture can peaceably coexist with a militant homosexual counterculture. Make no mistake: Incidents like these are a declaration of war against the heterosexual majority.
My advice is that straight people stop allowing themselves to be bullied by accusations of “homophobia” and start standing up for themselves by telling these militant queers to f*ck off. Queers want to boycott Amazon (see story here) and Facebook? Fine. Straights should do the same. Send emails to Facebook and Amazon informing them you’ll refuse to use their sites and services if they cave in to pressure from the homosexual lobby and allow homoerotic material to be displayed. It’s time to stop pussyfooting with these deviants and start hitting back. There’s a lot more of us out there than there are queers; if only we could get more organized…
And to the Christian wimps who say things like “hate the sin, not the sinner,” you’re not going to have your cake and eat it too. The only way to defeat the homosexual lobby is through hatred and intolerance. There is no other way. When it becomes unsafe for queers to walk down the street holding hands, or to otherwise publicly announce their sexual preference, that’s when we’ll have them off our backs. Until such time, you can expect the demands of the homosexual lobby to become increasingly strident and outlandish.
Let me repeat that this is a war, not a misunderstanding of some kind that can be politely worked out over tea and crumpets. The queers know perfectly well what they are doing and the ramifications of what they’re doing. This is a war, and as such, your options are either to stand up and fight, or drop your weapons, roll over, and let the homos sodomize your corpse.
Hopefully future generations will look back on this putrid, degenerate sewer of an era of ours and fully appreciate what the consequences are of allowing queers out of the closet, and thus avoid repeating our mistake.
* Yes, I know Mr. Feder is Jewish, and that I don’t always have the kindest things to say about Jews, but truth is truth no matter who expresses it. At least Mr. Feder isn’t like the Jew Ezra Levant, who is trying to sell conservatives on the idea of homosexual marriage.
** To get an idea of what homosexuals see all of this leading to, see the 2004 movie A Dirty Shame by homosexual filmmaker John Waters.
by Igor Alexander
As a red-blooded heterosexual male, there’s nothing that I find objectionable about watching two attractive women making love. It’s not the lesbian sex act per se that bothers me, it’s everything that surrounds it.
If I thought that lesbians were just hedonistic women who were sexually attracted to other women and were primarily seeking pleasure and thrills, I would be more willing to overlook them. Hey, I can relate — girls are hot! But that’s just a male fantasy. Such lesbians don’t exist outside of pulp novel covers*, porn, and other products of men’s lascivious imaginations.
The vast majority of real lesbians, even the ones of the “lipstick” variety that guys drool over, are women who have serious issues with men. Lesbians aren’t so much indifferent to men as they are hostile. It’s almost impossible to tell where feminism ends and lesbianism begins. The lesbian counterculture is inextricably tied to feminism.
Stop thinking of lesbianism as if it were just a sex thing. It’s not. It’s also a counterculture, an identity, and a political movement. Women who sleep with women for purely sexual reasons don’t usually go around calling themselves lesbians.
I’ve heard people claim that lesbians don’t dislike men, that they just aren’t interested in them, but I have not found that to be true in most instances. Lesbians are obsessed with men. They pretend to be men. They date women that look like men. They employ sex toys that are precisely modeled after male genitalia. They’re into “gender” role-playing, and assume “male” and “female” roles in their relationships. They go to feminist rallies, attend workshops for “womyn,” work in rape counseling centers. Many of them can’t stop yapping about the bad experiences they claim to have had with men, even years after they say they have stopped dating men. They appear genuinely upset when a man doesn’t give their lifestyle the nod of approval; if lesbians are indifferent to men, why would they care?
Young lesbian couples parade down busy streets in the daytime, hand-in-hand, staging public displays of affection which are meant more for attracting men’s attention (and rubbing it in their faces) than as sincere expressions of fondness or desire for each other.
Numerous studies have indicated that only a small minority of the women calling themselves lesbians have never slept with a man, and a surprising number of women calling themselves lesbians have sex with men (frequently “gay” or bisexual men) on a regular basis. An Australian study found that lesbians in the survey had slept with more men on average than the heterosexual women had! These findings are consistent with what I’ve observed firsthand.**
For lesbians not caring about men, an awful lot of their attention seems to be either directly or indirectly focused on them.
A stronger case could be made that faggots are indifferent to women than that dykes are indifferent to men. Fags, for the most part, seem to be genuinely guided by the pleasure principle and not much else. Fags who would truly qualify as misogynistic are rare, whereas man-hating dykes are ubiquitous. There may be a tiny bit of latent misogyny in male homosexuality, but it doesn’t even approach the scope and severity of lesbian misandry.
It wouldn’t make much difference to fags if all the sexually-available women on the planet vanished tomorrow; they would quickly get over it. But if all the men on the planet were to vanish tomorrow, much of the impetus for becoming a lesbian would be gone. Much like feminism: if all the men vanished tomorrow, feminists would have no one left to hate and to blame all their problems on, and their movement would shrivel up and die, having lost its raison d’etre. Lesbianism really should be thought of more as a wholly-owned subsidiary of feminism, than as a seperate thing onto itself.
When a guy jerks off, he’s just jerking off; he’s doing it because it feels good. To a lesbian, “flicking the bean” is a political act, a part of the struggle to liberate herself from the invisible (because they’re imaginary) chains of male oppression, an act of insurgency against the patriarchy. A woman who calls herself a lesbian and lets herself be penetrated by another woman donning a strap-on rubber penis isn’t merely displaying same-sex attraction, she is also revealing something about how she feels about men. That something goes along the lines of: “I enjoy heterosexual intercourse enough to try to mimic it, but I don’t like men.”
Guys, lesbians hate you. Their whole scene is based on spite and envy towards men. The only reason you don’t get it is because your only exposure to lesbianism has been through the pages of Penthouse magazine or by watching cute Hollywood actresses rubbing their boobies together on cable television. The reality on the ground is quite a different matter. By all means, check out some lesbian clubs and hangouts in your city, read some lesbian blogs and magazines, watch some pornography that was made by lesbians, for lesbians; but remember to bring along a barf bag.
(Also see What’s With All The Lesbians?)
* Ironically, lesbian-themed pulp novels from the 50’s and 60’s, whose target audience was nominally men, are now celebrated in women’s studies programs. Many lesbians from that generation remember these novels as having been an important part of their initiation into the lesbian way of life. From a Wikipedia article on these books:
“Writer Donna Allegra explained why she purchased them in saying, ‘No matter how embarrassed and ashamed I felt when I went to the cash register to buy these books, it was absolutely necessary for me to have them. I needed them the way I needed food and shelter for survival.'”
Sounds rather like the embarassment a teenage boy might feel buying his first copy of Playboy, doesn’t it? Nerve-wracking and yet strangely exhilarating at the same time, like breaking the law or starting a fistfight. I wonder how many people get sucked into the homosexual lifestyle because of the initial nervous thrill they get from trying something new, different, and taboo? Of course, once the excitement wears off, fags have to start inhaling “poppers” (alkyl nitrites) just to get it up, while female homosexuals suffer a condition known as “lesbian bed death,” similar to the loss of sexual desire long-standing married couples sometimes experience. Would it be overly optimistic to hope that as homosexuality continues to lose its stigma due to the public relations efforts of the homosexual lobby, fewer people will be attracted to it? To some there’s no fruit more inviting than the one that is forbidden, and in some sectors of society, homosexuality is becoming downright banal.
Also from Wikipedia:
“Stephanie Foote, from the University of Illinois commented on the importance of lesbian pulp novels to the lesbian identity prior to feminism: ‘Pulps have been understood as signs of a secret history of readers, and they have been valued because they have been read. The more they are read, the more they are valued, and the more they are read, the closer the relationship between the very act of circulation and reading and the construction of a lesbian community becomes…Characters use the reading of novels as a way to understand that they are not alone.'”
Hearing this, one has to wonder if men, by purchasing these novels and thus keeping them in demand and on store shelves, weren’t inadvertently fueling a movement and counterculture that would soon become profoundly antagonistic towards them. How many a woman from that generation who became a lesbian would never even have thought of eschewing a heterosexual lifestyle if she hadn’t momentarily caught a glimpse of one of those covers on a drugstore shelf out of the corner of her eye? Could the widely disseminated pornography of today be having a similar effect on some of our young women?
Would it be accurate to assume that the publishers of these pulp novels, like the pornographers of today, were disproportionately Jewish? Could the seeds of the modern lesbian movement have been planted by Jewish publishers in the 50’s and 60’s?
** It’s interesting to note that the Greek poet Sappho, who was born around 600 B.C. on the island of Lesbos — from which we get the term “lesbian” — was married and had a child, and that most of the young women in her circle of companions left her group to marry men.
by Weevil Shrimpsteen
Used to be you could walk a country mile and not see a lesbian. These days, you can’t sneeze without spraying a dyke.
Used to be you were able to see the mountains from downtown Portland, but now all the lesbians are blocking the view.
Was I asleep the day the whole world became a dyke bar?
I swear, you can’t turn around without bumping into a lesbian these days.
Shopping malls. Airport waiting lounges. Ski lodges. There you’ll see the lesbians, walking hand-in-hand.
There are far, far too many of them.
Portland’s soggy, mossy ground fairly trembles under the feet of so many stampeding bulldykes.
Weekend spree lezzies and the lifetime clam-gobblers.
Shopping for incense and battering each other.
Eatin’ buckets and buckets o’ pussy.
Wearing each others’ underwear.
Checking each others’ breasts for lumps.
Drinking chamomile tea and buying organic reusable tampons.
They read books about lesbian nutrition and smear their lesbian toothbrushes with tubes of lesbian toothpaste.
They take lesbian vacations and use lesbian cell phones.
They cry lesbian tears and pass lesbian bowel movements.
They wear lesbian ponchos and decorate their lesbian apartments with lesbian dream-catchers and ancient lesbian pottery from ancient lesbian tribes.
They drive lesbian cars and shop at lesbian supermarkets.
They swallow lesbian laxatives made from lesbian grains grown on lesbian farming collectives.
They watch lesbian TV channels with lesbian sitcoms and lesbian nature specials.
They use lesbian fishing rods to haul in lesbian trout hooked to lesbian worms.
They enjoy lesbian sporting events such as lesbian rugby and lesbian cage matches.
They clasp lesbian hands together and admire lesbian skylines dotted with lesbian clouds.
They sip lesbian drinking water from lesbian cups.
Their lesbian ovens yield lesbian pot pies stuffed with lesbian chicken chunks.
The lesbian nightly news shows lesbian helicopters rescuing lesbian war victims.
Ooohh…that’s a whole lotta lesbians.
WHAT’S WITH ALL THE LESBIANS?
They sprouted everywhere like a sudden case of the hives.
Portland is the Lesbian San Francisco, no doubt. At this juncture, I’d reckon that dykes outnumber fags in P-Town by ten to one.
It’s like the Hundredth Monkey. We’ve reached critical mass. We’ve reached the Hundredth Lesbian.
Can we, as a country, all agree to tone down the lesbianism just a little bit? We’ve reached our lesbian quota, I’m sure. I think we already have enough lesbians, and any more would be overkill.
At a lesbian coffeehouse near 28th and E. Burnside, a lesbian magazine talks about high colonics and nutritional empowerment and bedwetting support groups and candle-making seminars and dry lesbian oatmeal scones. You know — lesbian stuff.
Nearby, a group (officially, it’s called a “bevy”) of four lesbians huddles together near a bus stop in the cold, rainy, patriarchal mist. Three chunker dogs and one cornstalk girl. They bear all the visual trappings of latter-day alterna-lesbos: short, sloppy “bed-head” haircuts dyed platinum blonde or flaming pink, facial piercings, dirty sneakers, and tribally tattooed bellies and ass cracks exposed.
When I heard the phrase “lesbian identity” float from one of their mouths into the air, I decided to seize it.
I boldly approach the bevy of lesbians.
“What’s with all the lesbians? I mean, you guys are everywhere! What’s going on with that?”
The lesbian seems shocked by my apparent bigotry. “I don’t like putting labels on myself,” says the lesbian closest to me with a look of animal wariness.
“But you just used the phrase ‘lesbian identity’!” I say. “Isn’t that a label?”
The lesbians seem flabbergasted by my rudeness.
“What you’re doing is very uncool,” says the four’s spokesperson.
A bus pulls up and the lesbians embark upon it. They say nothing to me as they leave. I asked an actual group of lesbians what was with all the lesbians, and they wouldn’t tell me. They didn’t want me to know. Or perhaps they don’t know, either.
Twenty years ago in a suburban Philly garage, an all-girl punk-rock band pounds out snotty covers of Ramones and Blondie songs. Emily and Vicki are pretty bottle-blondes who play guitar and bass, respectively. Their drummer, Becky, is a lesbian. Becky wears a spiky brown mullet and is always trying to get in Emily and Vicki’s pants. But these girls are natural-born heterosexuals and are repulsed by Becky’s advances. We all have a cruel, jolly laugh at Becky’s expense regarding her compulsive sexual perversion. Men did not find Becky attractive, so she became what’s known as a lesbian-by-necessity. Rumor spreads that Becky is that rarest of creatures — a girl who is sexually attracted to other girls.
Twenty years later, all the girls are like Becky. Rare is the girl who hasn’t licked another girl’s snapper.
Twenty years ago, male homosexuals were all over pop culture, while lesbians were the Silent Homos.
Flamboyant butt-jockeys such as the Village People, Boy George, and Disco Tex were shaking their hairy tushies all over the place, but rare was the mainstream lesbo.
But amid AIDS wreckage and a general cultural devaluation of maleness, the gay male has been buried like an anal gopher. You don’t even see male fags anymore. Well, maybe once in a blue moon. A blue, faggy moon.
Except for the not-having-vaginas-and-breasts part, male fags were able to capture everything that made being a woman interesting. They possessed all the skittish drama which is one of the few redeeming qualities of being a female.
That has all been replaced by the dry moralism of cardboard dykes, who hate everything that’s male but are as boring as the most boring males.
Back in those fag-friendly days, lesbianism seemed ugly — womanhood stripped of everything that made womanhood attractive or alluring.
Chick-on-chick pussy-eating was the sole reserve of women who looked like men who couldn’t get women. It was a lesbianism of the lonely hearts’ club and the nuns’ convent. A lesbianism of ugly, boyish women whose vaginas were not deemed desirable enough in which to spill seed.
SO WHAT CHANGED? It was quite simple, really.
It followed roughly this pattern:
1) Women said they wanted sensitive men.
2) Men became sensitive.
3) Women turned lesbian.
When the men turned into women, the women turned to other women. That’s the history of Lesbianism’s New Wave in a tiny lesbian nutshell.
But it isn’t entirely the ladies’ fault. Not entirely. The fact that the American male is terrifyingly inept in the ol’ sack played a part as well. American men have no finesse. No game. They’re dumb, drooling, easily excitable hairy apemen who’d turn me into a dyke if I were a chick.
Dykes are made, not born. A woman’s physiology is constructed to enjoy a thorough ramming by a hard, warm, REAL tool rather than a cold rubber instrument or a girl’s wet tongue.
When men become men again, lesbianism will evaporate like so many wet spots in the morning sun.
I think that Dyke Chic will peter out, and a lot of women are going to be embarrassed. They’ll have a lot of explaining to do to their grandchildren.
I’ve made it a policy not to be with any more chicks who’ve had lesbian experiences.
C’mon, fellas, let’s wield the powerful force of SHAME. Let’s make them feel ashamed about being lezzies. Let them feel as if there’s something lacking in their reproductive desirability. Let them feel as if their DNA is misfiring. Treat them like freaks of nature. Evolutionary mistakes. Act like the daddy you were born to be and scold your little girl. The day will come when they wish they’d kept their panties on and their tongues in their mouths.
How do we punish the lesbians in a way that seems equitable? And how do we prevent future such lesbianism from occurring? How do we get rid of the lesbians once and for all? How do we dispose of the lesbians in a safe, legal manner? How do we stop it? How do we stop it NOW?
Take pity on the eternal, boring, self-righteous, easily bruised, stridently annoying, lesbian crusader, snuggling in the fetal position with her sisters, far from the evil, brutal clutches of menfolk, free from the heartache that MEN bring, with their hairy backs and repellent hanging genitals.
I don’t mind the pussy aspect of it. Pussy’s great. Yay, pussy! It’s not the vagina, it’s everything surrounding it. The holiness that surrounds their holes.
There’s an insincerity about all the new fashion lesbians. They act as if they’re blazing new trails, yet they’re merely little girls at a pajama party playing “Doctor” twenty years too late.
Lesbianism is merely another way for women to act like cunts.
Another way to be annoying.
They’ve found a way to be even more annoying than heterosexual women.
I don’t want to hear how your father abused you. I don’t want to hear what you did with other girls. I want to hear what you can do for me right here, right now, on your knees with your mouth open.