At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Tuesday, May 22, 2018


The latest hip glib champion of the patriarchy is a Toronto professor named Jordan Peterson, who apparently is a thing. A thing that fills lecture halls, and complains about women. I have read too much about him, and all of it bored me. Jordan Peterson is a dreary male superiorist in a long line of dreary male superiorists, and his fan base consists of immature men.
Self-loathing meets self-righteousness; everyone benefits.
He is the darling of the male rights movement.
As well as resurgent whiteness.

But, other than unhinged white boys, who cares?

As a middle aged white male, I have better things to do than pay attention to some whiny sponge head academic complaining about his own irrelevance. Or maybe it's diminishing sex appeal, couched in terms that flatter a whole bunch of other men who aren't getting what they consider their fair share of nookity and adulation. His poisonous ideology hijacks the socio-political discourse, and twists it to fit his own deeply held self-serving needs.
Basically, just another malevolently gibbering faux-intellectual.

There is far too much Jordan Peterson in this world.
It's better than weeping about your penis.
But still quite repulsive.

Can all of you Jordan Peterson fanboys please get back into your closets? And please take your limp dangly bits with you. Hold them gently in both sweaty hands. Thanks, guys.

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