Pornography and Feminism: Unlikely Bedfellows

“You’re a disgrace to the female race.”

Believe it or not, I’ve actually been told this. And on more than one occasion too. That’s the kind of thing you have to contend with when your ambition is to be a madam. For some reason, feminists don’t seem to appreciate the fact that I intend to capitalize off the horniness of men (and lesbians) throughout the nation.

Generally, when I expound on my strategy for turning my single whorehouse into a franchise powerful enough to rival even that of McDonald’s, I’m given a reasonable reception from my audience. A few laughs and some questions afterwards just to see if I can keep up my game. But every so often, a feminist will be in their ranks. It’s never a hardcore to-the-death feminist, mind you. It’s always the ones who have mindlessly read the feminist web pages and taken in everything the authors of those pages have written about male oppression, but haven’t put any of their own thought into it. The Patty Hearst’s of Pussy Empowerment, if you will. (If you think about it, that’s kind of an oxymoron.)

What is, for most, an amusing stand-up comedy bit from an articulate yet surly girl of questionable upbringing, becomes the most offensive and treasonous oration to ever be expressed by human lips. Benedict Arnold hasn’t got shit on me in the eyes of a Feminazi.

Now I’m a fair person. My personal rules of engagement require that I be. So when the incoherent ranting of said feminist commences, I put on the appearance of a rapt listener and wait for her to run out of breath. But when she takes that first pant, she’d best be ready to eat her words because when I deliver a serving, I serve a three course meal. I cannot stand people with no sense of humor, you see.

There are usually only three points in their tirade: degradation of women, lower wages, and violence towards women in other countries. (I went through four of these overblown lectures before I could figure out how the second two could be applied to my owning a whorehouse, but I did.) It never fails; the first point is always that pornography is degrading to women so I start with that.

“Really now?” I say to my Labia Liberating friend. “Porno degrades women, does it? Well, did you ever think about exactly how the porno industry works?” Typically, I get a defiant shake of the head. She can tell already she’s waltzing right into a trap, but she’s gonna do it anyway, just to prove she’s not backing down. She’s standing up for her beliefs, you gotta give her that. But my rules won’t allow me to stand down either. So I explain.

What feminists often miss in regards to pornography is that a woman can make a decent profit with little to no out-of-pocket expense if she’s got the chops for it.

Imagine for a moment an incredibly sexy woman. We’ll call her Sadie. Sadie has complete ownership of her body and can use it in any way she deems fit. And she knows it too. Let’s say Sadie has the ovarian fortitude to take advantage of said ownership, by flaunting it on stage or film. She makes a low budget film of herself and several of her similarly unabashed friends and sells it. There are undoubtedly countless men who will pay to see it. That’s entrepreneurship, right there. And there are few things I know that are more self-empowering than being a successful entrepreneur.

The really amusing thing about the feminist movement against nude bars and such is that, since the women are draining the pockets of thousands of men every night, it’s really the women who are in control. That’s really what they’re aiming for, to be in a position of power. Porno is degrading to women? Psshh! If anything, it’s degrading to men.

In fact, when you think about it, when feminists protest pornographic videos and strip clubs, they’re actually sending their movement into retrograde. Picture what would happen if they somehow managed to get one of their bill proposals passed into law and pornography was banned. Where would that put our imaginary self-employed woman? Right back into the work force, where she’ll almost certainly make less money as a secretary than she did selling tapes of herself fondling her friend’s breasts. Way to go, thundercunts! You sure showed those men!

But worry not for our little lady. Oh no, Sadie’s not gonna let a ridiculous law cut into her income. While filming herself or dancing on stage for profit is now illegal, doing a private show isn’t. (She lives in Nevada.) It’s off to the streets for her! You see, Sadie understands why men get paid an extra seventy-five cents more than women. And she knows how to get that seventy-five cents too.

There are two reasons why men get paid more than women. This is where natural order comes into play, so pay attention, Bravado Boxes.

The first reason is because women are a liability to corporate America. You see, if a woman working at a corporation gets pregnant, she can take upwards of four months off for maternity leave. That’s four months during which the company she works for has to pay her for not doing her job. On top of that, they have to pay someone else to fill in for her while she’s absent. That throws the productivity/profit ratio off and minimizes revenue. That little bundle of joy is a leech on corporate earnings. That’s why women make less than men. To lessen the damage caused by maternity leave.

But that’s not fair, you say? Tough shit, princess. That’s economics. Get your tubes tied, then we’ll talk raises.

The second reason men are paid more is also because of natural order.
It’s a sad and simple truth that no matter how ugly a woman may be, no matter how many stretch marks, varicose veins, crow’s feet, excess patches of hair, moles, liver spots, or wrinkles she may have, there will always be a man willing to sleep with her. But men aren’t so lucky. If you have even the slightest hint of a receding hair line, you’re fucked (and not in the good way). But that’s okay because your employer (likely a man due to the glass ceiling and whatnot) knows this too, so he’ll pay you seventy-five cents more than your female co-workers. Why? Hooker money!

Yes, that’s right, Vadge Patrol. They get an extra seventy-five cents so they can pay for hookers. They’re getting on in years, but they’re still horny because their horribly wrinkled and liver-spotted wives are too busy having affairs with their pool boys to sleep with them, so they use their extra income to purchase the services of hookers. What kind of frigid cunt would want to take a poor, unattractive man’s hooker money? Hmmm? Hmmmmmm?

And thanks to the women’s movement, Sadie has to even out her secretary’s salary by engaging in prostitution.

Let’s say one night, as Sadie is finishing off a client, he decides he doesn’t want to pay the service charge and beats the shit out of her. Luckily, the same feminists who forced her out of pornography and into prostitution are there to help, right? Wrong! They’re too busy worrying about the plight of women in foreign nations to bother with a single hooker here in the States.

Seems to me that’s the only real argument the feminists have these days, violence in foreign countries. The Equal Rights battle in America is over for the most part. These feminists are just the remnants of what was a useful army. Now all they have to fight for is their overseas sisters and they’re not even going about it the right way. Protests in the homeland and petitions won’t do jack-shit against the oppressive regimes, ladies. Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re going to have to try a little harder than that.

“Why aren’t you over in Afghanistan, hiding under a burka and planting the seed of dissension in the heads of the women?” I say to the Cunt Crusader who has dared to bother me. “Are you doing anything meaningful to help the condition of the women in Iraq? No, you’re here dickin’ with me just because I want to empower myself and a few of my sexy friends. Some feminist you are.”

I get a blank stare and then, after a long pause, she says, “Whatever,” and walks away.

And I throw back my shoulders, stick out my breasts, and stand tall in my six-inch male-designed stiletto heels, content in the knowledge that not only was justice to my bit served, but that dipshit Muff Marauder was too.

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