Polish wet t-shirt contest by Dobromir Sośnierz/August Diehl photo by Martin Kraft
So, sometimes I think that the misogyny of modern day society has penetrated my entire being, infiltrated my very soul, integrated itself into my body, like cancer. And not like Turks in Germany, with their fruit and veg stalls selling, like, big, round pumpkins and juicy, delicious tomatoes. Have these people not read the German constitution? What is wrong with THESE people?
Here – just in case there's any Turks reading this blog, let me help you guys out a bit here: German constitution. Point Number One: Die Würde des Menschen ist unantastbar (aka: human dignity is inviolable and shouldn't be fumbled about with in the park), blah blah blah. Point Number Two: Tomatoes are not meant to taste like tomatoes at all, but like shrivelled mounds of plastic, chemical shit and/or some crap pill you'd take in a field somewhere, aged 19, which has blatantly been cut with aspirin AND paracetamol AND rat poison AND weedkiller and then pissed on. If you guys are serious about working on being integrated, maybe you need to start pissing on your tomatoes. But you really should read the constitution for yourselves some time.
Okay, so where was I? Oh yeah. The Frauenfeindlichkeit of modern day society has totally assimilated itself into my whole identity and now I don't know where I end and hatred towards women starts.
For example, I can masturbate over:
- A blonde girl in the shower
- Two blonde girls in a jacuzzi, crying
- Three blonde girls, naked, on tricycles
- Four blonde girls, on a donkey, eating ice cream
- Five blonde girls, on unicorns, licking ice cream off of each other's nipples
- Six blonde girls, in cheerleading outfits, falling over each other because the floor in the changing room is really wet – one of them is crying
- Seven blonde girls, lost in Mitte, one of them is holding a balloon
- Eight blonde girls, getting a little bit sharked (only a bit, mind)
- Nine blonde girls, in a wet t-shirt competition, one of them is being disqualified for cheating, possibly crying and/or falling over
- Ten blonde girls singing the National Anthem (German or English) in bikinis
KEIN PROBLEM, ALTA.
I can also masturbate over science fiction-based scenarios, set in the near future, where fields and fields of Scarlett Johannsen get genetically engineered in Thumbelina-type pods and I sexually abuse them a bit.
What can I NOT maz over?
Brad Pitt. I cannae do it, man. Whenever I try and have a sneaky clit-wank over Brad Pitt, I hear this smug voice in my head, going: “Hmmm, Jacinta? He's too good looking for you. This is a really implausible situation you've thought up here. Where's Angelina meant to be? She'd never let you get away with this malarkey. Not in a million years. She'd stab you up first, she would.”
Do you know what that voice is? It's the misogyny of modern day society PERSONIFIED and it's störing me while clit-wanking. I'm like: “Hello? Misogyny of modern day society? Can you hear me? Last night I wanked over seven blonde girls falling off of a donkey and then me sex abusing a FIELD of genetically engineered, Thumbelina-type pod Scarlett Johannsens and you said nothing, nothing, NAFINK – now all I want to do is have a quick wank over Brad and you're bringing plausibility into it. Leave it out, mate!"
But no worries. It's all good. Über August Diehl schaffe ich das schon. I just imagine that I pay him, like, €100 beforehand. Maybe €150. I know it's not much, but he is an impoverished PhD student and all. And besides, I don't expect him to eat me out.
In a way, I'm just like Martin Luther King, you know, guys. I. Have. A. Dream.