www.blogger.com hates women

Does that sound melodramatic? Well boo-fucking-hoo, because once again, one of cyberspace's most prominent websites is effectively sanctioning hate speech against one group that, were it directed at any other community, would be smacked down faster than a cock-ring at a Silver Ring convention. Because, y'know, it's not really an -ism to have a go at... women, right?

Actually, wrong. But despite repeated reporting from various groups, the veritable oevre that is I Hate White Women (tagline: "WHY I HATE AMERICAN AND WESTERN WOMEN", in case the anyone was feeling left out) remains online in all its deluded, embittered glory. Of course, any woman of any ethnicity would greet this idiot's "boycott" of their person with relief and revelry, but that does not render his rantings harmless or their continued hosting by Blogger acceptable. Nazism is a joke too, but the Holocaust sure as hell wasn't funny.

So, to abandon reason and broach the moronic inferno for a moment, let's have a closer look at what this angry young man has to say for himself...

I am a white American male (good to know he's far away!) and I hate white women. In a nutshell ("nut" being the operative word), white women are the most likely (any research? Nah, didn't think so) to cheat on you (I smell misogynist heartache!), to divorce you (wouldn't you?), to get fat (again, stats?), to steal half of your money (has he informed the Police? Oh wait, he means getting married - has anyone ever accepted his proposal?), don't know how to cook (my two-year-old niece can feed herself, why can't he?), etc (yeah, ETC, like, that's totally fucking definitive, dude). Therefore, what intelligent man (yes, WHAT intelligent man? Oh wait, he means... aww, bless) would want to get involved with a bitchy white woman?

White women are generally immature (unlike a supposedly grown man who dedicates an entire blog to his peculiar bitterness), selfish, and extremely arrogant and self-centered (whine, whine, whine, WHINE...). The behavior of most white women is utterly disgusting, to say the least (yeah, rejection is, like, so mean).

This blog is my (failed) attempt to explain why I feel white women are inferior to all other groups of women, such as Asians, Middle Easterners, Mexicans, Blacks, etc (because, it's, like, totally not racist or patronising or unsound to lump people -oops, sorry, women- together like that. And, er, you can be any of those ethnicities while also being American and Western).

BOYCOTT AMERICAN WOMEN! (Women: they're just like South African grapes, really).

Pfffft, like the lazy, entitled, hellish Western women that I am, I can't be bothered to wade through any more of his inarticulate idiocy. I wonder which is smaller, his penis or his brain? What glory is there supposed to be in whining about a group of people who have already pre-empted any kind of victory by rejecting you to start with?

So yes, he's a joke. But it's not funny. And Blogger should realise that.

what

If the pen is mightier than the sword, I well deserved my teenage moniker of Xena (Warrior Princess™) cooked up by my best friend for reasons best forgotten. I have Written with a capital "w" ever since I could write with a small one; no primary school book corner was safe from my hand-made offerings, the creativity of my writing second only to the creativity of my spelling. I have always known I have something to say, if not always what. Daisy Steiner 2.0, I don't quite live in Tuffnel Park or own a typewriter, but I know I'm a good writer - all I need is a place to prove it. (I'd quite like a Brian renting downstairs as well, but I digress).

Awkwardly enough, I have never seriously wanted to be a journalist in any more than an I-could-do-better-than-that sort of way. My pubescent love affair with J-17 ended shortly after they featured an article (I use the term loosely) by a young Peaches Geldof about wearing yellow wellies to school on a no-uniform day, and Orla Guerin generally frightened me more than the tragedy she invariably reported. The older I got, the less I liked about the media, especially as a young woman; I laughed at The Devil Wears Prada, but only because it confirmed what I already knew - that I would never want to work anywhere like that anyway.

Anyone who knows about bands and can write (or thinks they do and can, at any rate) probably considers music journalism. Anyone who reads the NME and frequents any "scene" long enough probably also decides it might not be all they had who's-got-the-cracked it up to be; I certainly did. I like listening to music and I like writing about some of it (especially when it means free gig tickets) but I don't like the idea of pretending my opinon is the be-all and end-all just because I've got the right kind of bona fide fringe. I like being able to get drunk and not having to worry about remembering how to write it up. I like being able to giggle about it all instead of trying to be it. I like being able to write, however unprofessionally or languishingly, about everything else that matters to me as well.

To whit; life. Friendship, feminism, family, fear, fate, fashion... other things that don't start with the letter "f". This will not be a particularly political blog, however much the personal always is, but it will be about things I can muster the passion to write well about. I think, therefore I write; I write, therefore I think; I write to find out what I think, to quote Joan Didion. I won't pretend it wouldn't be nice to find out what other people think of my writing too - but nor will I pretend to care if no-one ever reads it.