Tag Archive | women

PC Manifesto




In the furtherance of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all mankind, I, Master President Daniel J. Tramp, do hereby decree that the following reasonable and irrevocable rules and regulations be made mandatory as of January 20, 2017:


All women from the age of twelve (12) shall be considered pussy cunts. All pussy cunts shall be the legal and physical property of men, and shall be treated as such. The U.S. Constitution and any and all privacy laws from any source shall not apply to pussy cunts.


Boys become men at the age of twelve (12), with all rights and responsibilities thereof.

All prior laws regarding rape, sexual assault, sexual harassment, or any other unreasonable law in regard to sexual violence shall hereby be null and void. All men who are in custody for violation of said antiquated and unreasonable laws shall be released from custody, and provided with a 12 year old pussy cunt sexual slave for the same number of months or years as the gentlemen were incarcerated or otherwise punished.

No man shall be punished for violence against any pussy cunt, under the well-founded premise that pussy cunts deserve what they get.

Men who are found having sexual relations with any child under age 12, including but not limited to their own daughters, shall not be punished but rather shall be sent for sensitivity counseling.

Boys from the age of six (6) and all men shall have the right to own and bear arms for their own protection; for the safety and security of their property; and against all hostile intention whether from internal dispute or alien invasion. There shall be no limit to the number of said arms owned per man.

Any man found to have engaged in sexual activity with another man shall be shown no mercy, and shall be sent to the nearest local militia for immediate destruction, as this is clearly an affront to our Nation and to Almighty God.


For the safety and security of all mankind, all pussy cunts with brown, black, or mixed race skin shall immediately be sent to gas chambers located in the southern states. Gas chambers are in the process of being rush ordered, negotiated and built by our master negotiator and tradesman, Master President Tramp. Disposals shall be conducted with a deadline of July 3, 2017, with the intent that our Nation’s Independence Day be celebrated without concern for public safety.

For the mental well being of all mankind, all pussy cunts falling into the following conditions shall be sent to said gas chambers: all pussy cunts over age 35; those without the requisite leg length to attract men; and all those with an IQ over 100. Disposal deadline for this second phase shall be December 23, 2017, so that our Nation may observe Our Lord’s Birthday Celebration Christmas Eve holiday with content and good cheer.

For the continuing sexual pleasure of all mankind and in order to preserve maximum eye appeal to men, effective immediately, all other pussy cunts shall dye their hair blonde and grow it to shoulder length or longer.

Pussy cunts shall not be allowed to own arms, or to bear arms unless used specifically as sexual entertainment for men.

Pussy cunts shall be required to eat only enough to survive, in order to keep their figures girlish and attractive to men.

Pussy cunts shall wear clothing that appeals to men. All decisions on female clothing and range of public or private nudity shall be made by men.

Pussy cunts may speak out loud only in response when requested by a man or boy, and otherwise may not speak. Any pussy cunt found in violation of this rule shall be forcibly required to provide blow jobs to said men and boys. A second violation of the keep-mouth-shut-except-when-giving-blow-jobs rule shall result in being sent to a local militia. Recognizing that this may be a flash point for implementation of the law, and that local militia may not be well enough equipped to handle the load, well-trained firing squads and appropriate facilities are in the process of being rush ordered, negotiated and built by our master negotiator and tradesman, Master President Tramp.

All pussy cunts are subject to whatever male attention they attract without objection. No pussy cunt shall deny any man or boy, or group of men or boys, any form of sexual indulgence. Any violation of this rule shall result in the firing squad.  When in public, pussy cunts shall walk quietly with their heads down and eyes modestly looking at the path of travel. However, upon command of any man or boy, a pussy cunt shall perform any requested act gladly and without shyness.

Pussy cunts may engage in sexual activity with other pussy cunts only with the approval of their husbands or owners, and only for the express purpose of entertainment and titillation of men.


As marriage is a God-given sacrament, men may marry as many pussy cunts as they can afford to support. Pussy cunts have no rights to object or approve of marriage.

Pussy cunts may not work for a living outside the home, unless in the sex trade or entertainment business, and only with the approval of their husbands.

As birth is a God-given sacrament, pregnant pussy cunts shall bring all fully legal human beings inside them to full term, regardless of health of the child or medical danger to the mother pussy cunt. All so-called miscarriages shall be thoroughly investigated, and any pussy cunt found to have self-induced a miscarriage shall be sent to the firing squad. Should the miscarriage be found valid, the husband shall have the right to divorce or send the mother pussy cunt to a local militia, under the well-founded premise that God is showing His displeasure with the female.

Pussy cunts are charged with the upbringing of children to age 12, at which time girls are established as pussy cunts, and boys as men. All decisions on said upbringing of children, however, reside with the dominant male in the household.

Under no circumstances shall a pussy cunt be allowed to continue her education. At age 12, any pussy cunt determined to have an IQ over 100 shall be sent to the gas chamber.

At age 35, pussy cunts shall be rendered useless to society and shall be sent for disposal to a gas chamber.

A married man may divorce his pussy cunt without any stated reason. Should a divorce occur, the pussy cunt shall be auctioned off to the highest bidder, with negotiated proceeds going to Master President Tramp.


Highly desirable pussy cunts, particularly the youngest and tallest, shall be corralled and shipped to Master President Tramp for the entertainment of himself and his friends and colleagues.


As all valid historical documents clearly indicate, our sacred Nation of America was founded exclusively by white, Christian, English speaking men who valiantly and courageously fought the Devil in all its forms. Therefore, the following rules apply, effective immediately and irrevocably:

The United States of Amerika shall forever remain a White Christian Nation.

Under no circumstances shall any person, male or female, speak or write in a tongue other than American English. Master President Tramp shall soon provide each man with a new dictionary of approved terms.

Under no circumstances may any person, male or female, refer to blessed Christmas by wishing another a “Happy Holiday,” under penalty of death. The term “Christmas” shall always be used reverentially by writing and/or speaking it in full without the blasphemous abbreviation of “Xmas.”

The term “Christian” shall be used interchangeably with the word “good” and shall have the same meaning.

By authoritarian decree, this 20th day of January, 2017, signed under oath to our Almighty Christian God,

Master President Daniel J. Tramp


A Cranberry Bog in Every Pot



Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Liberté, égalité, fraternité. A room of one’s own. What is it that makes a woman feel complete, that her life is worthwhile? Is it a full belly, true friendship? Love? Hope? Maybe it’s freedom. Maybe respect. In 1851, freed slave and anti-slavery speaker Sojourner Truth said, “Look at me. Look at my arm! I have plowed and planted and gathered into barns and no man could head me. . . And ain’t I a woman?”

Imagine having to justify your very existence as Truth was compelled to do. Imagine living a life devoid of respect, lacking in trust. Imagine fighting for the most basic of rights – the right to be black, to be a woman, to vote, to be free.

In comparison, my life is a ball. It’s a fairy tale, an amazing dream existence. I know it. Lately I’ve been thinking of buying an organic cranberry farm. I could work the fields, build wind turbines for power. I could make cranberry wine and chocolate covered cranberries. I could live by the shore in the beautiful sandy flatlands of southeastern Massachusetts. I could plow and plant, or hire someone to do it for me. I could gather my harvest, a bounty of ripe, crimson berries. Berries with roots that dig deep into the Native American soil. Berries that clung to the soul of this land for eons before those old Pilgrims ever stepped onto our windy beaches.

In pursuit of happiness, will I be happy? Would I be more content with a full belly, with a simple chicken in my pot instead of a cranberry bog? Would fraternité please me more than the lonely bogs under the stars at night? My cranberry bog might be my room, the one place where I feel free to write and create and be who I need to be. One thing I know – égalité is something I won’t give up on. Even now, even 160 years after Sojourner Truth cried out with such humility and common sense for justice, the world tries to hold women back. There are those who say we should be content with the privileges we have. There are many who rail against women who use their voices for change. There are some of both genders who show contempt for the female sex. Why? What’s wrong with being a woman? Ain’t I a woman? Are you saying there is something wrong with me?

So we know that Truth’s work is not done. Every woman has the right to find what makes her happy, where her freedoms lie, what constitutes her liberty. A reason for living, each one deciding for herself what that reason may be. A pot for every woman. And the cranberry bog of her choice in every pot.

The almighty



In my life
There were women who held dear
Who pulled and pushed and made me strong
Because their lives were hard
So difficult, they knew no other way

Estelle comes to mind
My grandmother
Who escaped the harshness of the old country
And found America
As a child,
She worked in the mills
Hour after hour
Dreaming of school
Her keen mind hungering for exercise
Longing for a world she could never reach
Finally she gave in to her God
After ninety three years
Her brain stopped its treadmill
Of worries and despair and regrets
Gave way to the foggy past
And disappeared into the heavens.

My mother
Devoured science fiction
Rejected any notion of the past
She clung to a dream of a world
Where fathers and sons
Would never take their own lives
Where daughters were encouraged
To go to college
It was a vision unattainable to Joyce
So in the end
Her brain snapped
All function ceased
And the fierce intelligence that was my mother
Vanished overnight, poof, in its sixty third year
The stars in the heavens still suffer
From the loss.

There were others
Those who could taste joy
And the beauty of the world

Claire, sweet Claire
My mother-in-law
Who sewed and knitted and baked
And sang and played her piano
And rode her bicycle and gardened
Always smiling
Living the small moments of the day
The world was jealous
Of such an exquisite flower
Some angry god or another
Got to her first
Shriveled her brain slowly
Time by time by endless time
Ravaged her senses
But eventually
Finally, mercifully
Our childlike, almost virginal beauty
Was allowed to meet her true maker.

And now, as if this wasn’t enough
As if my grandmother and mother and mother-in-law
As if Estelle and Joyce and Claire
Were nothing to eternity
My daughter Laura
Gets her brains bashed in
By someone deranged or high
Looking for cash for his next fix
Skull cracked open
And Laura loses grey matter
But oh so luckily
The gods show compassion
Perhaps it was not her time
And somehow, she lives.

But not my lovely Lorna
Future mother and friend
To her adoring community
Joy bringer
Bearer of happiness and loyalty and practicality
Sixty years of marriage and children
And kale soup
Though her kind, gentle hands were weak
Her mind was clear and expressive
Until the other sudden day
When she lost her words
Her brain would not be contained
Finally, love was all that remained
All thought stopped
So today
Lorna gave in to the need for her final sleep
And though it came too soon
Who can ever blame her for choosing loving rest?

And me?
I suppose I will follow these women
Whose lives and deaths
Speak to the almighty power of the brain
To give and to receive
To mercifully allow
To cruelly take
To live, to die