On Nature, Misguided Iconography, And Me Giving Lydia Guevara The Meat
This is written by a guy who goes by the name Skippy Stalin and writes at Postcards Of The Hanging. He says he’s a fan of Misanthropy Today and that I can snag any of his misanthropic content to repost here. Enjoy– AF
By Skippy Stalin
I’m a man of many hatreds. That’s really no secret to those of you who have been following me lo, these many years. My entire life is little more than a catalogue of contempt, sprinkled with fearsome and twisted instances of making a sexy time, just to keep things interesting. I could spend the remaining days of my life compiling the Great List of Things That Disgust Me and probably not make it halfway before I died of old age. And that’s why you love me so.
But if I were to think of two things that stand out as making me retch especially hard, it would be vegetarianism and those assholes who wear Che Guevara t-shirts. Both of the above should be destroyed in exactly the same manner that Benito Mussolini was, murdered and left dangling from a lamp post as an example to others and to history itself. Some lessons, they say, bear repeating, some more than others.
Vegetarians are simply wrong in ways that defy nature itself. The food chain was established by nature as a means of providing sustenance through primacy. Yet, vegetarians, who consist almost entirely of liberal half-wits and Hitler, think that they can actually preserve nature by pretending to be above it. I for one would like to test their hypothesis by throwing two or three of them in a cage with a hungry tiger. We sometimes forget the Roy Horn thought that he could master nature, too. Is it any wonder that Paul McCartney started sucking at the precise moment he stopped enjoying a lovely steak?
As for the Che enthusiasts, I have no real problem celebrating mass murderers, I only ask that said killer have a sense of humor. Charles Manson was responsible for the brutal deaths of at least nine people. But he is really funny at his parole hearings, so wearing his image on a t-shirt is acceptable, especially if you happen to be Axl Rose.
Guevara, on the other hand, spread misery throughout Latin America and Africa in the name of spreading a desperately silly ideology. Communism is to political thought what vegetarianism is to the five basic food groups; barely half the story and the wrong half at that. If his image absolutely must be displayed, is it too much to ask that it be the one after the Bolivian army hacked off his hands and mailed them to Castro in Havana?
That’s why I find myself deeply confused by the feelings Lydia Guevara – the 24-year-old granddaughter of Che – inspires in my loins. The offspring of communist assholes aren’t supposed to be hot, but Lydia clearly is. Worse still, she represents PETA, a group that should be burned alive before being buried at sea. Yet, despite the taste for collectivist, bland-tasting mayhem that surely runs through her blood, I think that she’s the picture of loveliness.
We would agree on virtually nothing, Lydia Guevara and I. We would have about as much as much in common as do Donald Rumsfeld and Charo. But that means nothing to me, for I am a strong believer in the power of opposites to attract. Besides, I’m secure in the knowledge that even the silliest of ideological convictions can be overwhelmed and finally reversed by my meaty capitalist tool. And that, my friends – not love – conquers all.
Besides, I’ve always wanted to fuck a girl wearing nothing but bandoliers. It’s one of my quirks, I suppose.
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Tagged with che guevara, hot, iconography, liberals, lydia guevara, sexy, shirts, stupid
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she’s not as goodlooking as she could be for a south american broad and I looked at this picture 10 times before I realized those were carrots where bullets should be.