One of the perks to looking the way I do is that I virtually never have to listen to someone like you suck your own dick out loud while telling yourself I am what you are swallowing.

How do you not know fail is what you do every time you think you can ace manhood with a thesis of, “Let me get a look at that ass baby doll.”

Congratulations on being another dude who got his catcalls at Toys "R" Us. You unoriginal hand-me-down of mediocrity, you mosquito, biting your own balls in a swamp of your mother’s regret.

Yes I know it’s low to call even assholes names. But any feminist who’s ever taken the high road will tell you – the high road gets backed up. And sometimes you need to take a detour straight through the valley of uncensored rage.

Sometimes you get tired of seeing people’s humanity in moments when they are outright refusing to show us their humanity. And so far, all you’ve shown me is that your voice box is a Rubik’s cube you couldn’t get right even if you peeled the fucking stickers off.

I don’t think you can get all sides clear on why you do not own the air or why not everyone takes a bullet as a compliment. And yeah, even a “Hey, baby” can spiral like a bullet if it is aimed at someone who is not, in fact, your baby.

Here’s a hint: If women have to play dead to walk by your door, you might want to do some work on why that turns you on. You might want to do some work on why our flinch or startle makes you think you are in charge, rather than makes you realize your own power outage.

This world is dark with men blowing themselves out. Men burying their own spines with what they think is theirs to take, to own, to muzzle, to drag through the ditch. Men who don’t get what they want then shout the word “bitch” across the street like a two year old throwing a tantrum with their baby diaper on.

Like they think their dick is a ticket to the Willy Wonka factory, and they can’t imagine anyone having an intolerance to “hey, Sugar”
So they call you a slut, or a whore, or a dyke. Way to go, you got the last one right!

Somebody get him a tote bag. Somebody get some construction paper and make him a certificate. Somebody get him something quick before he feels inadequate all over a Santa Barbara sorority house. Before he lines up women like pretty glass bottles and starts shooting off more than his mouth.

Seriously, if you think you are any different than a boy who would write a manifesto to do everything in his power to do everything in his power to destroy everything he cannot have, then prove it by becoming the kind of man who is not killing time watching his own dignity play dead. Whose heartbeat doesn’t quicken with the quickening of a woman’s footsteps. Who has enough self respect to not hang himself out of the window of his car.

It's not Rubik’s cube hard to keep your mouth shut. Just keep your mouth shut. You can do it, man! I know you can.