Tag: Sex Wars

Once upon a time, there was a Danish girl who came upon a great deal of celebrity in that she was a.) Danish, b.) rather pretty and c.) a TV presenter in Britishland.  Time (actually quite a lot of time) passed (details below), and she ended up telling her tale of woe thus:

‘I really squeeze in any bits of special loving I can!’ Ulrika Jonsson, 53, says she is enjoying sex in her 50s MORE than her 30s and describes herself as a ‘sexual creature’

The use of the term “squeeze in” is rather unfortunate, because Our Ulrika has given birth to four children (by four different men, but that’s a story for another time and in any event, she is Danish, after all).  Now, Men Of A Certain Age will know that her reproductive activity is likely to have had consequences whereby her pleasure tunnel most likely resembles New York’s Lincoln Tunnel (if you get my drift), hence the irony behind the “squeezing” part.

Also, the fair-skinned Jonsson has always been something of a sun worshipper, which is fine when you’re a Pretty Young Thing, but as the years pass…

Her outer covering is, to put it mildly, more akin to old leather than skin.  Not that this stops her from compulsive Instagramming, albeit with some truly heroic cosmetic / photographic enhancement:

And there’s more here, if you can stomach it:

I suppose that being famous (after a fashion) and being a woman more or less guarantees that Men Of A Certain Type will always be willing to entertain her, so to speak (cf. the ghastly Madonna for another example).   Had she been just an ordinary unwed mother of four kids by four different men, however, she’d probably be reduced to pulling drunk sailors during Fleet Week by saying, “Come to (or in ) Mommy.”

Speaking for myself, the expression “ten-foot pole” is very appropriate.  Your opinions may vary.

And then you have this prize pair of morons, who insist on giving us (via The Sun ) oretty much a thrust-by-thrust account of their sex life during one of the many lockdowns in the recent past, e.g.:

Day 3: We’ve been at it like rabbits
LISA says: It’s the first week into our second lockdown and tensions are already rising from being cooped up together, but we are both really eager to give this experiment a go.
We stocked up with lockdown supplies – and no, I don’t mean loo roll. We’re being playful with each other, and we’re focusing more on foreplay.
When we’ve disagreed, we’ve had sex. For these few days, we’ve been at it like rabbits. We’re often slinging our gear on to the floor and jumping straight into bed.
During the first lockdown, morning sex was unheard of, but now we’re squeezing that in too.
We really want to take our relationship to the next level, so we have asked each other about our fantasies too.

As if government-imposed home arrest (lockdowns) aren’t enough of a problem, they’ve also given us this kind of nonsense.

If I was cooped up with either of them, the greatest risk would be murder or else suicide.  The fact that they give us their real names is proof, as though any were needed, of their utter shamelessness.  (“Spike van der Merwe” — a South African surname, btw — is way too fucked-up to be fictitious.)

I think that in the interests of justice, every time a politician suggests a lockdown, he or she should be forced to spend the entire lockdown period with one of these two, depending on gender or orientation.  (Lesbianists with Spike, homos with Lisa.)

The lockdown would be measured in hours, not weeks.

I’m told that this is the new term for underage sex partners, although given that I’m at the “wrinkled prune” stage of life myself, I fail to see what I’m supposed to do with this information.

Anyway, here’s a sample of the above, this time from Strylia:

A former Tiger Air flight attendant who had sex with a 15-year-old boy has been released on bail after spending only one week in jail.
Melissa Nosti, from North Ryde in northern Sydney, had sex with a student at the school she used to work at as an attendance officer back in 2010.

You have to applaud her willingness to go the extra mile just to get the little scrote to stay in school — the parallel thought being that I bet that attendance among the other little scrotes was sky-high if she was spreading the love, so to speak.  And if her pictures are anything to go by, she probably was.

The only reason I noticed this at all is that the suburb where all this fresh fruit was being plucked is right next door to where the Sydney branch of my adopted family now lives.  (New Wife’s two sons and their wives live in Oz and Seffrica, respectively.)

Every so often I come across a headline which causes me to experience a complex reaction:

Russian beauty queen screaming ‘I hate women’ carries out horrifying knife attack on shop worker

Now I will confess that at times I too am tempted to strap on the old Anza Skinner and head for the fabric store, but only at times of severe provocation.

Like this one:

Female lingerie tycoon, 39, launches legal fight to force Garrick Club to admit women for first time in 189-year-old private members’ club’s history

Outside the suggestion of more gun-control laws, this is the kind of bullshit which causes me to throw shit across the room and shoot an extra hundred rounds at the range.  I’ve ranted about this topic so many times in the past (example:  here) that I can’t find anything more to say about it, other than perhaps in the invention of more swear words.

Of course, this is all happening in (formerly) Great Britain, where there’s no guaranteed freedom of association, but as my own take above on Augusta National indicates, that doesn’t mean that it can’t and won’t happen here too.

Ordinarily, I would just say (in answer to a demand to end men-only clubs) that we can do that only if all other gender-exclusionary clubs are likewise banned.   Here’s an example, from some list:

The Sorority club is an online network for professional women who want to collaborate and inspire others. While this is not a physical club, the members, 4% of whom are royalty, meet regularly at selected luxury venues in London. Membership is by invitation only, although by filling out their online pledge, you can encourage them to consider you for membership, just be sure to have a good answer to the question; ‘What do you value most in life?’
“The way women connect with each other is unique,” says founder Lisa Tse. “We have a tendency to overly criticize ourselves and often underplay our successes and achievements. In a collegiate environment of women, we thrive as we are always so supportive of our friends and aim to bring out the best in each other in a way we never do for ourselves.”
“We are also in desperate need of providing role models of real women living real lives who are successful on their own terms. We need to move away from traditional stereotypes of businesswoman and success and embrace the diverse and rich experience of inspiring women with amazing stories to tell.”

“The way women connect with each other is unique”?  Can I be the first to say that if I started a men-only club by saying “The way men connect with each other is unique”, I’d be castrated by the Feminazi Grrrrls faster than a Kardashian woman drops her panties for a rich Black guy.

Try this observation from another vagina-only club:

“There’s been a paradigm shift which means that increasingly women are seeking out other women’s company. Not that they don’t love their husbands and partners, but they often have deeper conversation with women than men. Women have become less competitive with each other, more embracing and there appears to be a sorority that is stronger than it’s ever been.”

Here’s a tip for these wimmens:  ignore the “paradigm shift” nonsense and invert the sexes, and that’s always been the case among men.  There are certain conversations that men can only have with other men — and I’m not just talking about shot groupings or 0-60 acceleration times.  And no, I’m not going to list any of those topics, because it’s nobody’s fucking business.  Unlike women, we don’t have to analyze and talk about everything — hence the need for men-only clubs like Garrick, where we can indulge ourselves with guy talk and not be interrupted by a group of people with, to be kind, a different (and stupid) set of talking points.

And show me one men-only club which actually harms women by their exclusion of cervix-owners from the dues list.

I’m running low on gin for my breakfast G&T (shuddup, we just got through a long weekend), or else I’d have a second pint.  Instead, I think I’ll just head to the 100-yard indoor range at the local gun club, where women aren’t excluded but where I’ve never actually seen a woman shooting off a Barrett, so I’m pretty much assured of male-only company (albeit without booze).

Fucking harpies.  When they ask why we hate wimmens so much, the universal answer should be:  “Because you’re always trying to pull shit like this.  Leave us the fuck alone.”

But they can’t, can they?