The 21st Century has become an age of obsessions. People are obsessed by issues of race, gender, politics. Some are obsessed with the avoidance of reality, retreating into the sub-cultures of Cosplay, Furries, or attending college to study something useless and then joining Antifa. However, obsession reaches it's peak only when the compulsion to obsess meets the unhinged, conceited female captivated by her own vagina.
Of all the Obsessions none could be worse, nor as damaging, than the pre-occupations surrounding the va-jay-jay.
Feminists, perhaps the most obsessed of the Obsessed, the Uber-Obsessed (if you will) have built a cult and mythology surrounding the Yum-Yum that would have made the ancient Greeks green with envy with it's propensity towards exaggeration, bestowal of supernatural powers upon the Hoo-ha, and the Homeric-like epic of the entire genre, the Vagina Monologues.
In the last few weeks, on this very page, I have pointed out the insane level of stupid this obsession will drive the average woman to:
The Vagina: An Odyssey
Lady, Get Over Your Snatch
The Perils of Having Too Much Free Time and a Vagina
One could make the following accusation:
But, My Lord, considering the amount of bandwidth you've devoted to the Cooter and the Dementia it Inspires, one might even say it is YOU who are obsessed.
And right after I sentence you to the salt mines and kill your relatives for making this prescient observation, My Minion, I will make my defense.
All I'm doing is letting you know what's happening out there. I don't go looking for vagina-related content, but it finds me all the same, which is testament to just how much of it is floating around in cyberspace. It follows that if the internet is simply saturated with content vis-a-vis The Spermcatcher, it must be because there is a massive audience for all things Pink Snapper.
Or, as is the case the majority of the time, a public service responsibility to point out that what all that Quim-related content is on about is rather sketchy, or downright dangerous.
It would seem that excluding the feminist boilerplate about the Penis Flytrap being one part Disneyland, one part Detroit Assembly Line, one part Rainbow Unicorn, and one part Most Powerful Force in the Universe (that somehow leaves those in possession of it helpless"victims" of something or other), the majority of the crap onloin (I mean, ONLINE) concerning the Cunny is related to sham beauty regimens propagated, I reckon, by celebrities.
Most likely Gwynneth Paltrow, who is becoming famous for this kind of douchebaggery, but let's give her the benefit of the doubt.
The latest "Don't Mistreat Your Mommy Meat" article today has to do with the questionable practice of "cleaning" your Kumquat with Vick's Vapo-Rub.
This follows last week's warning not to clean your Snizz with a cucumber.
And pretty soon, I'm sure we'll be reading that you shouldn't keep the Cookie clean with a wire brush, that it's a bad idea to use WD-40 during sex, and eventually, we'll be treated to an entire New York Times serial piece on the hazards of using Baking Soda to keep the old Sausage Wallet as sweet-smelling as your refrigerator or kitchen drainpipe.
The obsession seems to be focused upon three (3) distinct subjects:
1. Odor and Discharge
2. Aesthetics
3. Youth, or the appearance of
As I was once a connoisseur of all things Beaver, Your Overlord can attest to the fact that even the best-tended Lady Garden is, if you'll pardon the expression, often no Bed Of Roses. Even in his day, Your Galactic Master has encountered his fair share of stanky Hot Pockets, but I would tend to agree with the doctors quoted in many articles debunking these fad Vagina Maintenance Programs and just reiterate that washing the thing every once in a while with soap and water -- sans the Liquid Plumber treatment you read about on some fly-by-night website (or wherever) -- is probably the best solution for your oozy, stinky Cooze.
But then again, how much of this is driven by popular culture rather than any medical or cosmetic sensibility is difficult to discern. All I can surmise is that modern feminism has made women so tormented by their own Private Parts, and by the perceived need to measure them by some obscure standard, that women are actually hurting themselves in the process.
Just today, in fact, I read this, and came to the conclusion that the more feminism advances (and I will use that term loosely, since it is a regressive psychology) the more women tend to deliberately hurt themselves. One must begin to wonder just why this is. My theory is that since so much of feminism revolves around being a victim -- even being celebrated for being a victim -- that when the victimization feminism tells young women is inevitable in their lives fails to materialize, they take matters into their own hands, victimize themselves, blame "society" and "mass culture", and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
This is what one must do, it seems, to truly be accepted by the Sisterhood.
And isn't that a shame?
Now, given the amount of bandwidth I've devoted on this page to discussing the self-destructive nature of the Modern Female, I'm often accused of being a misogynist of Hitler-Stalin-Mao-like proportions, but this is simply untrue. The Overlord LOVES women; he just possesses a simple character flaw/mental disorder that compels him to point at STUPID and jump up and down like a schoolboy bursting for a pee.
It's not my fault that the media is full of stories concerning women and their misguided, unhealthy fixation upon the Tweenie that seems to permeate every aspect of their lives: work, play, relationships, politics, economics, and finally, self-image, which obviously provides such rich fodder.
I'm not sure of all the forces at work here; for certain, feminism, identity politics, and probably the new age of internet dating and hookup apps plays a major part in this troubled haunting by the Hair Pie. I'm just wondering if it'll ever end.
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