It must be nearly a year ago that I got the following email from a fellow MRA. I say it was an email; actually, it was a bit of a rant, and a rough draft for an article idea. The man who sent it to me never quite finished it. I think I understand why. This is real life shit at its most raw. But he has, with some coaxing, agreed to let me run it anyway. I have made some very minor edits for the sake of continuity, and tried my best not to screw it up or dilute it. PE

Many years ago, under another name, I was on the board of directors of National Coalition of Free Men – I didn’t know the guys. I gave talks on the radio and I HATE public speaking. What I got for it was years of abuse-you are stupid- slap slap-you don’t have a right to a different view-slap slap.

I was shy in ways others wouldn’t guess. I gave radio talks and University talks and was trashed badly by feminists in the press. Stupid man, can’t get laid, hates women. Deal with the issues bitches, and few ever would.

You have been around. You know the damage years of child abuse can do. I read last week in the paper that the brave, fearless guys are the ones who often crash and burn from Iraq. I was always that guy. Housing project, on the streets, police and prison work. Hey man, grab a couple of guys and go into C block, unarmed and see what’s happening.

I am OK with getting shot, not OK with being tortured and abused… Always a concern in prison work. So, some brain damage and some PTSD but I never quit and I didn’t lose but I did get hurt, badly, a few times

So, name changes, hide out every so often, sometimes I take a year or two off.

AND, I always come back.

Because from the 60’s to 70’s I thought I was the only one crazy enough to see this PC bullshit for what it was. Well, I have never been impressed with how chicken shit most men and women are; gutless, following the crowd, buying bullshit from bullshit artists.

So there I am, housing project bad ass – trying to move from lower class to middle class. The only thing I had going for me was being tough and good looking and brave.

I got dumped on year after year, and then I saw a man’s name and a woman’s name speaking up against PC bullshit about gender, then others… and yet the gender feminists were always still in charge.

I saw a movie last night called “Flash of Genius” where about the professor that invented intermittent wind shield washers. Good movie for guys. Slow. But the guy is a little crazy; fights FORD for ripping him off, 8 years, loses his wife on the way, and is told he doesn’t have a chance. He’s been dumped by a lawyer for not taking a million.

He wanted the apology along with the money. He ended up getting offered 30 million, but not apology, to bail before court. He didn’t take it.

In the end, he got the money and the apology.

I want the apology.

I want it from the upper classes and the teachers that beat boys. I want it from the grandma long dead who straddled my face when I was four, more than once, while I was in her care- dark room, don’t tell because The Devil will get you.

I want it from my mom who slapped me a thousand times. I want it from my step-dad who hated me because I was smarter and better looking than his sons and proof that my dad fucked his wife first as he showed me his knife and said he would “cut it off.”

I want it from feminist teachers who didn’t see men dying in work and war, or men getting humiliated time after time. Males – inarticulate, confused – thinking their sexuality was wrong or bad, thinking women were superior, told our forefathers who sacrificed their lives for women and children were pigs.

I have a good wife that earns 70K a year working her ass off when she could be in a town that isn’t fun and make 100K. She has always been good to me, so why don’t I, with cancer three years ago, just kick back and stop stressing about “Gender issues?”

I have my dog to go running with. Kayaks with rivers close by, a nice bike; so why the fuck am I still carrying this torch when there are smart and well educated guys like Paul Elam, and Bernard Chapin and Pelle Billing, guys who are way better prepared and smarter and better educated. Why don’t I just quit?

Because I want the fucking apology.

I didn’t quit on racism and civil rights issues until it was a done deal. I didn’t quit on protesting the Viet Nam war while a military police Sgt, with hippies at my house on post, war protestors, and I won’t quit on gender until the press, TV, and women’s studies stop trashing my great grandfather and my son.

Because quitting isn’t what I ever did; not in college when I was ill prepared; not on marathons after I stopped drugs and cigarettes. Not when dealing with racists in the south or black gang bangers in prison or those fucking feminists who are way more evil than the racists or gang bangers. I want to quit but I can’t.

I won’t.

The racist and gang bangers have a good reason to be pissed off. They were pissed on. They were treated like dirt; growing up abused. I get their anger.

But women, who in our culture are given whatever they ask for by men who have given to women and children for eons, to have those bitches shitting on boys in schools until those little boys tell their smiling feminist teachers “I think men are pigs?”

Fuck you, bitches. You need to apologize.

Why do I do this to myself? It actually is something more than the apology.

It’s the warrior.

I didn’t stop fighting for civil rights or for some closure on Viet Nam until there was success. It makes me want to toss firebombs when I see Biden, Obama, and others kicking our asses while they kiss NOW’s ass. I wrote somewhere that I would challenge the women who run NOW to seeing how many wheelbarrows of sand they could fill, and move, and that I, at age 63, with anemia from cancer, a screw in my left hip, two screws in my right shoulder, would work circles around them.

So who should we hire, men or women for such jobs? Because men can work you bitches into the ground. This is why they want a law to pay the women as much money or more than men working on bridges.

70,000 men died on the Suez Canal, how many on the Golden Gate? But we don’t talk about that.

We talk about the lie, that women get screwed by men.

I want the apology. For myself. For all the warriors. For the living and for the dead, but mostly for those who kept giving as they were being spit on; those that kept shoveling and kept standing a wall while being told how worthless and evil they were.

I am not quitting till I get it.