F*ck You, Women Readers—Android Market

An e-book noobie in the woods, I excitedly trip over to the Misogynist Android Market to see what free offerings might be available for such poor folk as I.  A nasty surprise alurks:

Under “Fiction”, I see a category that interests me: “Adventure”. At the same level, another is called “Men’s Adventure”. 

I look in vain for a “Women’s Adventure” equivalent.   What the hell, Android Market?!

Looking at the books within the two categories—
“Adventure”, welcoming men, women, or children, and
“Men’s Adventure”, to which only men are invited—

I see that, in Android’s opinion, women are not interested in reading, for example, Clive Cussler, Ken Follett, Wilbur Smith, or Edgar Rice Burroughs.  

What the hell, Android Market?!

I like all four of those authors!  Particularly Follett and Smith.  Just to make certain, I check down between my legs:  Yup.  A fine, fine innie.  Definitely not an outie.
Books Android Market thinks no women should read:

Stay Away from Adventure If It's Not Romance, Ladies!!!

Books Android Market thinks women should stick to:

Let the Little Ladies Stick to Classics or Kids Books

Understand, though, men are welcome to read these, too–this is, after all, not a “Women’s” category.  Perhaps the higher-brow offerings in this grouping are intended for the men, or to improve our naturally-feebler minds, and the children’s books are intended for women and children.

F*ck you right back, Android Market.  Yours Truly, Outlier Babe.

Thank You, Bailey Weaver From Medford, For Doing to Android Market What I Am Too Polite To Do

Just for the record, Life of Pi is one of my favorite books, but I also love a trashy getaway as much as the next gal. How dare Android Market try to limit my choices by how I stand or sit to urinate, and how dare they, fifty years after the 60’s, be boldly, brazenly offering a “Men’s” category of anything other than undergarments? It gets me ill. It really does.

F*ck You, Women Readers!–Male Writers

Too Much Testosterone In Those Inkwells?

Frankly, men, it is high time you thought about the other half of the population when you write.  You have, and can have, no idea what it feels like to be cruising along, really into a book, only to be slapped across the face and kicked out of it, told, basically, that you weren’t welcome to start with.   I’m damned tired of it.

Pickin’ on poor P.J. O’Rourke only ’cause his was the book on tap the day I snapped. Like many (most?) male authors, P.J. O’Rourke unconsciously assumes that only men read his words.   Why should he consider the issue of men versus women in his audience?  He holds membership in the privileged class.  

I’m betting you male readers in the audience are considering this issue trivial.  Whereas, because I am a member of an oppressed class, I consciously choose my words because I know they are far from trivial:  A few changed pronouns here and there, the use of the occasional alternate noun, and voila!  Gender neutrality. A goal whose time has come. The inclusion of 100% of the population, versus the exclusion of 50% of us.

From PJ O’Rourke,  Don’t Vote, It Just Encourages the Bastards
(1) “If it weren’t for business investment, all the inventors, innovators, manufacturers, wholesalers, and retailers who have brought prosperity to the modern world would have had to get their money the way the rest of us do: by asking their wives.”(p. 37)

Frankly, P.J., I can’t think of the last time I’ve asked MY wife for anything. Even when I was married.
“F#ck you, woman reader.”

What Woman Reader or Wife Can’t Relate Warmly To THIS Image?

(2) “Or, to put it differently, the government is a Rottweiler ready to be unleashed on your problems.  And you’ve stuffed raw meat down the front of your pants.” (p. 67)

“Where, Presumably, P.J. Was Imagining Something Like This Could Be Found”

“F#ck you, differently-equipped woman reader.”

(3) “Once the Model T was introduced we all became Sir Lancelot, gained a seat at the Round Table, and were privileged to joust for the favors of fair maidens…” (p. 153)

There’s An Image Women Can Relate To. Especially Those Shoulder Pads.

“F#ck you, (straight) woman reader.”

(4) “…otherwise we stuff a tampon up Dad, give Mom a tablesaw for Valentine’s day…” (p. 52)

What is THIS Thing I’m Using As If I Know Exactly What I’m Doing?

“F#ck you five times over and sit on you for fun, dumber-than-dirt woman reader.”
Such a revealing analogy. Here’s what it means:  “Tools are to women as tampons are to men.”
So:  A woman would have as much use for a tool as a man would for a tampon.  To ole’ P.J. (and many other males), women are lower on the evolutionary scale than the tool-using chimpanzees.   Since racists have frequently equated blacks with apes, it appears that Yoko Ono was wrong:  We women are not the the n#ggers of the world.  We are LOWER.
Gorsh.  That explains why I’ve been so puzzled by these ten stringy things dangling at the ends of my arms.  Don’t know how I managed to maneuver and affix 10-foot drywall sheets to the ceiling on my own in that 1908 Craftsman–musta used a heckuva lot of makeup or sumpthin’.

Or Maybe I Had Some Girlie Power Help

Were we able to manipulate one digit independently of the other nine, it would be possible to reflect male writers’ sentiments toward women back their way. Since that is, apparently, beyond our feeble womanly ken, let us provide this poor substitute:

(NOTE:  No women’s digits were harmed in the typing of this blog.)


To put up drywall sheets on your own, make two Ts from a length of 2×4 almost as tall as your ceiling with a short crosspiece at one end, 4″ (3 1/2″) side out. Then shove and raise up one short end of the drywall toward the ceiling with one T and work up the other end with the other T. Jam the sheet up snug with the Ts to screw it into place. My brother taught me this.

But it’s a pain in the #ss, and I’d never want to do it again.

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