women's sports: for lesbians only?
Women's sporting competitions are forever hampered by the fact that, whatever the event, men can do it better. Girls may kick ass, sure, but boys kick ass harder. Boys are stronger and quicker, and the fact that "women's sports" exist at all testifies to the fact that the girls can't compete with the boys. Women's sports become a patronizing sort of booby prize for the congenitally disabled, a Special Olympics where the handicap is a vagina rather than a slow brain.
The typical female athlete is a bony-shouldered, cabbage-faced, lumpy-boobed carpet-muncher who hates men and enjoys the company (and sexual companionship!) of females exclusively. She violates our most cherished taboos and is often seen wearing suspenders and smoking cigars on public street corners in full view of normal families.
I've never met a normal man—you know, the kind that sits around all day masturbating and thinking about women—who finds female sporting events interesting, nor who finds female athletes sexually alluring. Real men desire sexual intimacy with weak, clumsy women, not someone who can beat them at bowling. Lesbians may like to wear flannel, chug beer, munch on bean dip, and watch these all-girl sporting events on cable TV, and I say, "More power to 'em!" But I speak for most of the Brotherhood when I say that I don't want to see you tossing balls around, unless the balls are mine.
