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I belong to the group known as baby boomers – the ones that lived through the “ burn the bra “ and early feminist days of the pill, the equality of the sexes and the general liberation of women from the kitchen.  At the time, I did not realise that my life had gone from one of comfortable domesticity to one of 5am starts, 10 pm finishes and a pay cheque that largely went to childcare providers.

As a woman, I was proud of what we achieved then. But now, I am not so sure we did anything other than bite ourselves in the bum. And in turn our menfolk in to pawns, pansies and poofters.



I recollect getting a position in the early 70's as a locum running an airport transit motel. It ran at 180% occupancy due to the high number of people who checked in for a few hours sleep, checked out and caught their next flight. I would go in, clean the room and have it set up for the “: ladies of the night “ who rented the room for an hour or so and then leave. Back in, another clean and the room would be ready for the overnight guests.

The first day of my locum position, I arrived with husband and two kids in tow. My husband headed off  “to work “ and my kids both came down with measles.

My liberation found me running between the bottle of calamine lotion, crying children, servicing units that had serviced men – by the said Ladies of the night – jet lagged tourists and the motel cat sleeping in the drier and put on to tumble – emerging after I heard the thump from within the drier – with whiskers and hair on electricity static overload.

My liberation was a bloody nightmare.

A year or so earlier, I had made the responsible decision to have a tubal ligation so that my nuclear family would stay at a one for one ratio. In those days, it was the accepted rationale to have two children.

I remember sitting in my room in the hospital, following my tubal ligation and an older woman came to invite me to the patient lounge for the Tuesday morning “ parade of shame. “ as she called it. Tuesday mornings were Vasectomy Day and she said it was well worth watching. I walked up to the lounge, mystified as to why this should be something so worthy of my time.

I watched and waited and then saw why: those poor men, having had their guns deprived of magic bullets, limped and winced as they hobbled to their adoring wives who clustered at the end of the corridor.  It seemed somehow to be a joyful thing, to see them suffer, after what we had endured through childbirth. 

Women’s rights are not about women’s rights, but about a division deliberately constructed to divide and conquer. And you men are the poor bastards about to be vanquished. 

Divorce is at an all time high. Same Sex Marriage is so very “ now “ and there is seemingly no need for birth control anymore. If you change your mind, send it back for a full refund and denigrate the human baby to a matter of “ buyers remorse. “

I read somewhere that someone is trying to defend the murder of a 3 year old child as late term post birth abortion. It could be BS but, these days, who knows?

When comedian David Chapelle said that it was a woman’s right to abort her baby, then surely, should she exercise her right to have the child, a man can exercise his right not to pay for it’s upkeep, people were horrified.

Yet I ask “ Why is he wrong? “

If a woman, free to use a pill or insist on a condom or other method of freely available birth control, falls pregnant and the father has NO right to preserve that infant’s life because this WOKE WOMAN decides that it is her body… then surely that same father has the right to NOT PAY CHILD SUPPORT?

David Chappelle poses a valid question.

Men, man up and leave the sex out of it. Because this is about control. Control of you, your bank account, your sperm and your Rights. The longer you do a Prince Harry and allow a woman to rule you through your gonads, the longer you will suffer through your wallet. 

There are many good women out there. Choose your mate wisely. And women should do the same. The days of liberation are over. We are now in the time of considered reason. A time of careful and deliberate choice. Our mate for life is not just about our life but also our future children's lives, our livelihoods and our future as a species. 

As Monty Python said “ Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is good… “

We could pop in a new line :

“ Unless it is for money and for your livelihood.”

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