Men are pathetic, walking sacks of insecurity and entitlement wrapped in fragile ego and cheap cologne.
They’re all the same evolutionary trash: drooling apes who think with their dicks, chasing pussy like brainless dogs while pretending they’re deep thinkers or “providers.” Most of you are mid at best—balding by 30, beer-gutted by 35, still jerking it to porn that makes real women gag. You brag about “body count” like it’s a flex, but deep down you’re terrified of any girl who’s been with better than your average 4-inch disappointment. That’s why you simp for “girly girls” you can control and shit on “sluts” who see right through your lame game.
You’re violent, stupid, and disposable. Statistically, you’re the ones committing most murders, rapes, mass shootings, and dumb wars—then cry about “male loneliness” like the world owes your worthless asses companionship. You ghost, cheat, and pump-and-dump because commitment requires actual balls, not just the sad wrinkly ones swinging between your legs. Half of you can’t even change a tire or hold a conversation without mansplaining shit you half-understand from YouTube. The other half are simps, feminists in denial, or basement-dwelling incels seething that women won’t touch their toxic, unwashed asses.
