The following article is a product of satire.
When you get a woman you learn one thing very quickly. They’re like fish out of water. They never know what the fuck they want so they just stare at you with a wide fixated eye, flapping all over the deck until you make a decision. They claim to like one thing about men but then react positively to the polar opposite of said claim. This propensity to counterintuitively undermine their words with their actions is a spectacle that has left many a man stood, jaw ajar, thinking “What the fuck?!” for millennia. You see, it is the fish who contradict themselves for all to notice, with the underlying assumption that you will forgive and overlook their bullshit. Almost as if, when it’s convenient for them, it’s tacitly known in the subliminal that you shouldn’t take a single word seriously. “You should just get it!” Let’s give you a classic example of this in the form of the pervasive bullshit peddling that has been espoused by womankind since time immemorial.
“I like nice guys” the petite prominently plump-assed perky-titted 20-year-old says, but her behaviour and track record on the other hand, indicate otherwise. In fact Ms. Perkytits only fucks nice guys once in a blue moon. Some of them wonder if the pity handjob they gave to their male best friend in the twelfth grade counts. Of course, it doesn’t, and if she wasn’t full of mercury, she’d realise this. Predominantly, she’s a fish of the tuna variety, seen on the discovery channel to be enjoying a diet of asshole wherever she can get it. Why do you think she’s full of mercury? Did she spin you that environmental trope about the ocean being contaminated where she swims and little old her’s just “looking for the right ship to come along?” No, she’s contaminated by all the ships she’s jumped on, and if it is something wrong with the water, then why the fuck does she keep swimming there? What is it that causes this cognitive dissonance in her, the differential leap between her beliefs and actions? This is something the male mind has bewilderingly pondered throughout the passage of time in his dealings with women. You think it now. Your father thought it. Your father’s father thought it. “Well, y’know man, bitches just be cray, ya kno wuh I’m sayin?”
Does she have a lack of introspective self-awareness? Is it some strange gender-ingrained compulsion to hide her sexual strategy accommodated by the all too hilarious, yet nefarious rationalisation hamster? Probably both. Who really knows. Do fish have hamsters for brains? Apparently they do, which would explain the selective memory. What I know is this: A woman, especially a young attractive one, is like a fish. A tasty tuna. A fish who, if it could talk, would say “I hate fisherman who use nets (assholes), I much prefer the responsible pole and line fishermen! (nice guys)” There’s one thing she doesn’t realise though because she’s never tried to catch fish herself. All the fisherman with a pole and line are up against fishermen that swoop up schools of fish in great big nets, and because of that they’re lucky if they ever catch anything (the Pareto principle aka 80/20 rule.) In spite of this, the fish insists that regardless of trying to obtain an effective outcome, pole and line fishing is the way forward for a wayward fisherman! Why? because “nets may work on some fish, but not all fish!”,“real fisherman don’t use nets!” and my personal favourite “speaking as a fish, I don’t like fisherman with nets. They have no respect for fish!”
One day, out on the raft with nothing but his right hand, a lot of fish swimming by, and a solitary pole and line that hasn’t caught a bite since Charlie Sheen was on “Two and A Half Men,” the unsuccessful fisherman begins to angrily complain aloud about his lack of success. He starts wondering if there’s something wrong with the fish, or if he just needs to get better at fishing. Of course the fish become very startled when they hear the angry fishermen, they’re worried he may fuck up the ocean by dumping actual mercury into it. So they pretend to give a fuck, feigning concern for the fisherman’s upset, when really they just want to make sure he doesn’t become a maritime Elliot Rodger. Apprehensive and a little indignant, a fish jumps out of the water and onto the solitary fisherman’s raft. He thinks fortune has smiled graciously upon him, but he quickly realises his hope is in vain as it becomes apparent that in the absence of anything short of a hook in the gullet, said fish doesn’t intend to make herself at home. She’s just going to give an unhelpful holier-than-thou speech full of platitudes and empty asinine bigotry before she fucks off back into the ocean to meet the tangly embrace of another man’s net.
What was the speech the fish gave you ponder? “Don’t worry, gentle fisherman. If you use a pole and line enough you will eventually catch that one fish that you always wanted! You don’t need to try out lots of different fish or even catch many to be a good fisherman, a real fisherman is happy when he finally happens upon that one special fish!” Then ironically, she gives him a stare, bats her eyelids as if she’s a catch, but au contraire, she’s not his catch. “I’m sure the right fish will come along one day!” she exclaims condescendingly. So what is a naive pole and line fisherman to do? He, like many fishermen before him, disadvantaged by the absence of any veteran fisherman to show him the ropes, keeps retardedly fishing with his pole and line until eventually catching a fish that was rejected by one of the net-using fishermen. Of course, a fish caught by a net fisherman has to be kicked off said fisherman’s ship. It doesn’t swim away of its own accord. In fact it’ll often protest to said fisherman “you’ll regret putting me back in the ocean, you’ll never find a fish as great as I am!” A pole and line fisherman wonders why a fisherman either net or pole would even dream of throwing a fish off his ship, but that’s because Mr. Pole & Line is always thirsty hungry, never full.
Something the fish won’t tell you is that no fish has ever in the history of fishing been caught by a net fisherman only to volunteer a transfer over to the ship raft of the fisherman with a pole and line. All the guys who fish with poles (nice guys) are in a constant state of scarcity because they only get a single fish a year decade, if even that. So when a rejected fish flaps her way onto his deck, he is grateful for the scraps that have been divinely bestowed upon him (oh peace be upon Dagon, God of fish.) The guys who fish with nets (assholes) are in a state of abundance because they’ve got wet fish coming out the ass. They wake up in fish wondering what the stench is only to realise their ship has turned into something of a fish colony (a harem.) Then it strikes them they’re in a fishy kind of daze. In fact sometimes they wonder if some of their fish are beginning to rot and ponder chucking some back in the sea to catch a fresh batch. Their ship is so well-built, and their methods, so well-developed, that their ship is the envy of the ocean. In fact, some fishermen have so many fish they don’t even need to cast their nets any more. Ocean fish smell the other fish on his ship (pre-selection) and jealous of his big beautiful ship they all jump on uninvited desperate to please the fisherman.
So why do fish say they prefers poles when realistically as a fisherman, nets are the way to go? One of the main reasons she says this shit is because all her friends and family (“polite society”) adhere to the tenets of Greenpeace (feminism.) They believe in deep-sea conservation, and swimming willingly into the embrace of nets is in no way conducive to the facilitation of sustainable fishing. It is because of this her reputation depends on voicing a preference for pole (haha), rather than nets. She could never admit to Greenpeace that secretly, the thought of getting swooped up by a big bad environmentally unfriendly net gets her gills giddy. Her whole involvement in Greenpeace is nothing but a duplicitous sham, but she’s regurgitated the party line for so long, she can’t see past it.
No fish is bigger than the boat. If a fish ever gets too big for your boat (physically, or psychologically) then you know what to do. Throw it back in the water, because there are plenty more fish in the sea. Stay frosty.