Non-existent child at the Women’s March in Charlotte
Were the Women’s Marches last Saturday an inspiring act of resistance to the incoming Trump regime, or just a collection of bitter, aging childless bitches looking for some drama in their lives?
It’s the latter, at least according to one bitter, aging, and I’m pretty sure childless bastard. The virulently racist, woman-hating, Trump-loving pickup artist Heartiste — real name James Weidmann — offers his take on the march in a blog post today.
His working hypothesis?
The … Bitter Bitch March can be explained, in part, as the mass hysteria of childless women seeking the drama in their lives that their childlessness denies them.
Huh. So apparently the assorted pictures floating around of children at the Women’s Marches in Washington and elsewhere are all just photoshop jobs? If so, kudos to the photoshoppers for making them look so realistic.
Meanwhile, a writer for Forbes either apparently hallucinated a whole little army of kids at the march. “Among the estimated 1.2 million people at the Women’s March on Washington were a staggering number of children,” Forbes’ Frances Bridges writes.
I was surprised by the myriad of babies swaddled to their parents, children marching, sitting in strollers or on the shoulders of their parents and grandparents.
But let’s just set aside the photographic evidence and eyewitness reports. This is Trump’s America, and in this new reality, Heartiste is entitled to his own set of alternate facts.
So let’s just, for the sake of argument, assume that the marches were overflowing with bitter childless women. Why does that matter? Heartiste quotes one eminent expert on all things female, namely an anonymous commenter on his site called Days of Broken Arrows, who posits that
Women are psychologically built to deal with drama, because nothing is more drama-inducing that having to deal with a baby or a toddler.
But if there are no kids, women still have the psychological need for drama. So they create it.
You can’t argue with this SCIENCE.
Heartiste goes on to wax poetic about the evils of childlessness and women and Ashley Judd.
American White women — and Western White women in general — have the easy life, all whims catered to, all conceptions thwarted, all egos stroked. Their abject sexual liberation and child-free lifestyles … has made them yearn for submission to a greater dramatic power. Now that God is gone and the patriarchy is prostrate and supplicating boringly drama-free beta males orbit them like cosmic dust, to whom do these placated women submit?
Islam. Leftoid equalism. The cock carousel. And finally, they submit to incoherent rage fueled by the dying eggs of their childless wombs.
Orbiting beta dust. Cock carousels. Dying egg fuel. I’m having a little trouble visualizing all of this. Could someone with better graphics ability than me construct a useful diagram?
Anyhoo, the worst example of bitter childless womanhood that Heartiste can imagine is actress and activist Ashley Judd, childless by choice, who apparently read some sort of poem before “a squealing crowd of whores and harpies” at the DC march.
Heartiste, who has apparently seen video of the recitation, is not impressed, declaring that Ms. Judd’s
“poem” was a psychotic, obscene fusillade of nonsense and man-hatred. A more iconic representative of the inchoate mentality and emotional infantilism of modern feminism would be hard to find. A literal crazy bag lady screeched like a loony toon as half a million sympatico spinsters and sluts metaphorically scissored her c**ty discharge.
Not only is scissoring not really a thing, that’s not even how it works.
After weighing all the scientific evidence, Heartiste concludes:
Childlessness and cresting sexual worthlessness are the two unspoken, subconscious psychological drivers impelling the scattershot and scatterbrained “protests” of the women who went to the Bitter Bitch March. …
Strip away the sound and nagging of the bitterbitches, signifying nothing, and you are left with the sad tragic realities of their lives. Childless Ashley Judd with the dead womb six feet under a mound of piling regret is Exhibit [vagina-related slur redacted].
Heartiste — himself childless, as far as I know — follows his attack on Judd with a passage that is perhaps a little more revealing than he intends it to be. Judd, he declares, is
a nasty woman because her heart is small and black, poisoned with envy and regret, with nothing but ugly feminist anthems to alleviate the pain of spinsterhood and cratering SMV that consumes her.
Projection, it’s not just a river in Egypt.