Actual human waste.
Smudging oneself with menstrual blood, real or fake, has become a motif for some feminist groups. Why not faeces, you might wonder? Oh, sorry, no faeces available,those were all sent to a museum of conceptual art, in the original toilet bowl, along with a mosaic of clipped toenails and nose hairs.
When trying to decide what type of agitation is more disturbing in this day and age, radical feminism probably takes the lead .You do not make a point by re-enacting that scene from The Exorcist in a public square. There seems to be a strange fascination these activists have with body parts and bodily functions; just when you thought mooning or giving the bird were a last resort for the linguistically challenged. Idiocracy, anyone?
It’s fair to assume that few in the crowd will pay attention to the actual message when half-naked women mimic sticking crucifixes up themselves. Instead, they will ask themselves other questions. Are these women high on bath salts? Did they just escape from a hospital? Are they dangerous? Are they going to pull out guns and start shooting?
The first thing that confuses me about some feminists is that they claim they don’t need to bare their tits and butts to attract attention, like weaker women do. And they make this point precisely by baring their tits and butts.
As proven by this list and many others, there is no limit to the lunacy of their complaints – from being outraged by hurricane names to finding ”sexist” notions within physics. Just as weird was the campaign against mistletoe, which would have you think women get routinely raped under a bundle of leaves, in good conscience. Actually, they were baited by an internet community into joining that, which shows how easy it is to get them to back up any absurdity.
If I attempted a parody of a radical feminist protest, it would be something like this.
#Ilovemycrack Today was incredibly exciting! The sisters and I made a racket! After being sweat shamed in a supermarket, my friend (who so humbly refuses to take credit for this brilliant idea) decided we should protest against soap. I mean, why should the patriarchy force us to be neat and pretty and perfumed, like little Barbie dolls? A woman should not be embarrassed by any aspects of her natural condition, right? So we stopped washing completely for a month and headed to a park; that was the proudest walk of my life. On the way, people kept turning around wondering where the dead animal was. We stopped at the bandstand, near the zoo, and started singing our most famous song; at first the keeper thought some of the Capuchins had got out and were screeching in the trees. Then we were almost shot by PETA, who mistook us for a bunch of raccoons because our faces were covered in runny mascara; they wanted to liberate us from the slavery of human ownership. Being a rebel is so exciting! So we ran into a bush and someone called the police; luckily, they all fainted when they came near us as they were not wearing gas masks, and we managed to get away. Seeing their faces turn green was amazing! Four men down! Girl power!!!
But wait – all this is nothing. NOTHING.
Please do not click on this link if you’re squeamish or about to eat.