Category Archives: incoherent rage

Regular readers of this blog, for better or worse, know one thing that makes “Men’s Human Rights Activist” Paul Elam’s penis happy: The prospect of harassing feminists. He is, after all, the man who wrote of one feminist that “that the idea of fucking your shit up gives me an erection.”

Now Mr. Elam has given us a rather more complete account of what it is that pleases his penis. I’m not sure there was any great demand for this information, but he has chosen to release it, and so here we are.

In a post with the tasteful title “on tits, ass and fucktards,” Elam informs the world that he is in fact a fan of the first two items in this list – that is, tits and ass. He is also, he goes on to explain, a lover of

Sorry, I have to stop for a moment to remind you that you are about to read about things that give Paul Elam — yes THAT Paul Elam — a boner.

I will not think any less of you if you stop reading right here.

If you are ready and willing to continue, here we go:

I like well-formed thighs that lead up to the promise land, and smooth knees above shapely calves. Of course, all that combined with a woman’s pretty face is a crowning glory; full lips that promise supple kisses and great blow jobs, clear eyes and unblemished skin. All this combines to make a woman utterly fuckable, and visually that is what I like most of all. I like to look at women that are little fuckmuffins.

Yes, he actually wrote all that, attached his name to it, and posted it for other people to see.

But as much as Elam likes to look at “little fuckmuffins” he does not actually seem to like most of them very much.

After roughly 150  words devoted mostly to cataloguing his favorite female body parts, Elam evidently runs out of nice things to say about women, and so he returns again to his favorite pastime, devoting the bulk of the post to a rant explaining how much he hates “feminist fucktards,” traditionalist women, and women with Facebook accounts.

While happy enough with “fuckmuffins [who] are sexually liberated and adventurous” and who “like to please and be pleased,” Elam informs the world that he feels no such love for all those awful “fuckmuffins” who “liv[e] life with prudish sticks up their asses made from the same wood that forms the chips on their shoulders.”

He’s also mighty pissed at all those who aren’t interested in hearing him expound at length on what his penis likes.

Of the now almost endless list of things that have grown annoyingly stupid and sanctimonious about feminism is the Victorianesque shaming of my sexual programming as a man. Even with the so called “sex positive” feminists, the most hypocritical assholes of them all, the only positive sexuality they embrace is that of women. To them, male sexuality, in all its glory, is something to be buried, controlled and allowed to surface only when it serves the sexual needs of some narcissistic, horny, self-absorbed little “sex positive” princess.

Unfortunately, more traditional-minded women aren’t much interested in hearing about his penis either. And for some reason they, like feminists, think that there might be some sort of connection between men and rape.

Who are those traditionalists? You will know them by their obsequious silence while feminists shame men for committing the scurrilous act of looking at women sexually. Or better yet, as they join in with their “men can stop rape” bedfellows to twist and distort the natural inclinations of young men with Puritan sexual guilt that marches in lockstep with the feminist hatred of male sexuality.

Elam stops for a moment to reassure his readers that despite all that stuff about “well-formed thighs” and blow-job lips he prefers Good Women to mere “fuckmuffins.”

Now, all that being said, is woman-as-fuckmuffin all I care about? Hardly. As a matter of fact, I would throw fuckmuffin to the curb faster than you can say “patriarchy” to spend time with a woman of good character and intelligence. I have learned in life that my dick has a healthy agenda for humanity, but not necessarily for me. So as my values have matured, so has my taste in women.

Heck, it turns out he actually sort of hates “fuckmuffin.” After all, he tells us,

fuckmuffin … is prone to act indignant when she feels sexualized (by the wrong guy). She can become so angry at being “objectified” that you can see her tits shake right through that tight sweater with the neckline that plunges to the vicinity of her toes.

And then he compares her to a bug:

Time and experience will lead [men] to understand that fuckmuffin should be regarded with same respect as you would afford a stinging insect.

Basically, he explains, the only problem with lustful young men who ogle women is that they haven’t learned to hate women enough quite yet. And so women shouldn’t complain when young guys stare at them. Or when they don’t. As far as I can figure it, he thinks women shouldn’t ever complain about anything.

Leave [young men] the fuck alone. There is nothing wrong with them. Nothing needs to be fixed. If you want to help a young man like that, just start encouraging him to connect the dots between fuckmuffin’s propensity to take her own picture and post it to Facebook four times a day and her ultimate tendency to make him miserable. Eventually he will get the connection. And if he doesn’t, maybe that makes him happy. Either way, it is none of your fucking business.

And so ends what’s probably the strangest work of erotica I think I’ve ever read.