This post is also available in: Deutsch
CH’s last Hamster of the Month was none other than punching bag connoisseur Rihanna, who hamsterly rationalized her way right back into the loving-hating arms of the artist who turned her face into soggy oatmeal. Now we’ve got a new contender in the ring, and this lady’s jacked hamster might just be the rodent to take down the reigning champ.
In a BBC News article about readers who supposedly *cho cho chose* celibacy, a 46-year-old woman opened the cage and let her little fella out for an aimless, zig zagging stroll. The trail of tiny poops it left behind smells the tale.
I am a pretty 46-year-old woman, single and I haven’t had sex in almost four years. When I was in my 20s and 30s I had enough sex to last three lifetimes. I rarely went a week without finding someone to shack up with. Then I got older and more picky and I found that most of the guys just weren’t worth the time or the energy. The whole thing got old. I never found anyone compatible with me and I certainly was never willing to compromise my personality and my priorities for a man, so there you have it. I’m actually happier because I don’t date anymore and I’m free to enjoy life with myself. I have a great relationship with myself and my life. Sex really isn’t all that. American Woman, Chicago, Illinois, US
Please have a gander at her face shot on the BBC website (fourth picture down). That chin, guy! Her hamster is crazed. Hopped up on laced pellets and Five Eras Energy. When one is dealing with a rabid female rationalization hamster in the wild, one must take caution when capturing and tagging the varmint. Once caught, the hamster can be squeezed until concentrated delusion juice is extracted, and then the juice mixed with the proper reagents to produce the distilled truthful equivalent of the rationalization. CH lab technicians have already done the dirty work for you, and the following is the woman’s honest and true feelings translated from her hamsterese:
I am a 48-year-old pale shadow of the unattractive manjaw I once was, involuntarily single and I haven’t had real sex besides the penetration of my mouth, anus, or vagina in a bathroom stall at the Early Bird Buffet in Pensacola FL in almost ten years. When I was in my 20s and 30s I had too many soul-crushing empty pump and dumps with meth heads and aspiring rappers to last twenty pointless lifetimes. I rarely went a week without finding some total loser to bitterly cling to. Then I got even older than old and pickier at a time of my life when I should have been dropping my standards, and it slowly dawned on me that all of the love em and leave me losers I happily spread for just weren’t going to stick around and put a ring on it. My whole body and energy level got old. I never found anyone willing to put up with my acid bath personality and cauliflower mug, and I certainly was too selfish and too delusional to budge in the direction of making myself more appealing to the increasingly beta men realistically available to me, so there you have it. I’m actually sadder because I don’t date anymore and I’m fated to suffer my terrible loneliness. I have a hallucinatory relationship with myself and the last leg of my life. Loveless celibacy really isn’t all that. – American Woman, Team Edward, Fatopia, Comingapartville, US
*shudder* So painful to read. Take this truth serum away and lock it somewhere safe. Bring back the hamster! That cute fuzzball is a lot more fun to watch. Haha… look at him go… round and round the wheel. Aaaahhhh…. so much better. Hold the Xanax.
Some readers ask, “Why do you give so much shit to obviously deluded and tragic headcases? What harm is she doing to anyone but herself?”
Harm is a conveniently vague word that’s often used by those who don’t understand the concept of externalities. A functioning nation is comprised of broadly like-minded and temperamentally similar people. The collective character of those people determines the character of the nation. In the course of time and the tumult of events, a people’s character can shift to accommodate new incentives. A nation will, during these shifts, follow more or less a path of lies or a path of truth, as befits the psychological needs of her people and the monied interests of her ruling elite. When the willing embrace of lies predominate, the cohesiveness of the nation frays under the strain and her aesthetic bounty fritters from neglect. Inexorably, too slowly for the average person to sufficiently apprehend to refuse her servitude, the cacophony of lies begins to demand its tribute. And that tribute is a steep price, indeed. Paid sometimes in blood, but more often in the humiliating betrayal of good sense and in the surrender of self-assurance. A resignation of the spirit accompanies the disheartening assent to moral neutering.
In the gloomy twilight of receding greatness, what was once the lonely wail of the societal defective harshly but rightly estranged from the common good becomes the discordant battle hymn for a broken people bereft of purpose and vulnerable to experimentation with novel hierarchies of morality and aesthetics.
American Woman and her Rationalization Hamster is a propagator and a product of that novel hierarchy of twisted morality. Her self-medicating lies are an insatiable mind virus that won’t stop their multiplying at the contours of her body. The virus will leap into the ether, strengthened on the gruel of sophistry, into the unhappy, inviting, doubt-whipped minds of those teetering on the precipice of postmodern annihilation.
Her lies to herself become the lies that others tell themselves, until the cancer has culturally metastasized and there is no longer a way to distinguish the self-told lies from the lies meant to deceive converts.
If you believe that harmless little delusions are in fact the craggy building blocks of degeneracy total, then you grip your CH-issued shiv of sadism, press the tip against the beating breast of the poisoned id, whisper tenderly into the deformed monster’s ear to silently accept its necessary death, and drive the cruel cleansing metal of mockery to the hilt, until its black lifeblood has drained out. You hang the freak corpse from a lamppost as an example for the others. And then you remind yourself that you, like everyone else, is a depraved human, slave to his nature, who enjoys the suffering of losers and mind disease vectors.