Valentine’s Day!

Well, I sure do hope that everyone has a good Sugar and Flower Companies Shoot Feminism in the Kneecap Day!

“Now, wait a minute!” our friend Strawman McDunderhead might be saying as they read this. “How does Valentine’s Day have anything to do with feminism? It’s just a lovely day for partners to buy things for each other.”

Well, no it isn’t. 

Now, I am willing to entertain the notion that there are many couples in which the men pretend that the Valentine’s hoops they jump through are something they want to do, and enjoy doing. I know that for the women in these relationships, it is important that their men lie about what they enjoy and what they want.

As Tori Amos put it: “she controls the way she makes you crawl.”

Whatever your deal is, that’s your business, but over here in the real world I am in no way obliged to maintain the fantasies of the dysfunctional and delusional.

The entire engine that drives the holiday is “romance.” Not true romance, but the consumer driven retail version. This is capitalism doing what it does: amplifying a basic human or societal impulse with advertising and then exploiting it.

The “romance” here is all about the male partner jumping through hoops set out by his female. He buys her shit solely for the purpose of keeping her happy, and to avoid being tarred and feathered as a “bad” boyfriend or husband by her friends and family.

This is a reinforcement of what ought to be an archaic practice in courtship: the male essentially buying his access to females. In the patriarchal model, the male provides everything: he pays. In the early stages of courtship, the female need only provide her presence and, at a certain stage sexual access.

Valentines Day, as it is pitched, sold, and policed through our societal norms and expectations does nothing but reinforce that pattern. Men buy the shit and women consume it. There is no reciprocity beyond the assumption of a guaranteed lay.

So, if a woman says they are truly a feminist, and at the same time care about what their man buys for them on this bullshit, made-up holiday, they are full of shit.

Hot Yoga

Assuming you’re hot, if you don’t post a picture of yourself doing yoga in an idyllic location every now and again, how are people going to know how deeply fulfilled you are as a human being?

They won’t know! And that would be deeply unfulfilling.

Inner peace and fulfillment just isn’t the same without an appreciative audience.

Better stretch out that taint and fill up on thumbs.

Guilt Free Diamonds At Last!

We here at Congo Genocide Diamond Company know that it is important for you to pretend that ethics and morality matter, so we are proud to announce that we are now selling Blood Free Diamonds.™

Our Blood Free Diamonds™ are guaranteed conflict free and are available in most shops right next to our fine assortment of regularly priced diamonds: because we know that you are just that fucking stupid that you will pay a premium for the illusion that you are someone who does the right thing.

In related news, our subsidiary, Genocidal Chic, will soon be offering a stunning line of African-toddler-leather furniture. Of course, for those customers who do not wish to be on the cutting edge of fashion, we will also be offering the same line in the less premium calfskin package.

Congo Genocide Diamond Company cares. And we listen. Because how could we continue to blow smoke up your ass in exactly the way you want if we didn’t?

Inspirational Advice

Okay, what the hell is going on with these images of inspirational positivity sayings that switch font every few words? The whole point of the piece is to foster some kind of mental health in people, which is laudable, yet they present themselves in the most schizophrenic way possible.

If the block of text were a person, it would have no idea who it is trying to be. Are you a cowboy? A French duke? An early twentieth-century medicine label? A kindergarten teacher? What is going on with you?

You need to take a moment and settle down, friend. Marshal all your conflicting impulses and present the world a united front. Stick to one costume at a time, because this mixing them all together at the same time is a mess.

American Patricians

Sometimes I have to take a moment to sit back and marvel at just how committed American conservatives are to being awful. Their thorough attention to detail in this regard is incredible. They don’t miss a beat!

It’s not just them selfishly doing everything they can to make the world a worse place, to despoil everything they come into contact with; it’s that they take so much obvious pleasure in doing so. For these people, it seems, their greatest source of joy is causing pain.

However, this is nothing new. We can look all the way back to Rome to see their type at work. Roman patricians at the Coliseum, watching people tortured to death by the dozen, then going home to rape their slaves. Pillars of their community, these people. Fine, upstanding Romans all, who spoke of family, duty, and religion.

We might look back at those Romans, at what they did and what they regarded as entertainment, and ask ourselves: how could they have done that? Who were those people?

Well, they weren’t so different from some of ours. They just didn’t bother hiding who they were. They made a show of it. Took pride in it. Used their cruelties as a stark warning to all who would stand against their might.

Our rulers are a little less honest about it. Our cruelties are done behind closed doors. The bloodletting takes place out of sight, with the output packaged neatly in cellophane for thoughtless consumption. Our slavery institutions are systematized in more subtle ways: through corporate capitalism and the criminal justice system.

Our patricians speak of family, duty, and religion, too. They speak of their faith in Jesus as their friend; taking license from him to do what they want. Ignoring his words that make it clear they and their works are the antithesis of what he preached. That their kind of people were the ones who put him to death.

That their plebeian followers would have been in the crowd cheering the Christians martyred.

No, nothing new, these people. Just different symbols. Different spectacles for the plebs.

At its heart, the world is the same as it ever was.

We are the same as we ever were.