There are many times when I stare at my wife in open-mouthed wonder. How can such a relatively small and slightly built creature, who smells so nice and is soft and smooth to the touch, be possessed of such mountain-levelling strength – both physical and mental?
What black sorcery created this, and what jungle voodoo sustains it?
I am convinced she could take a Tyrannosaurus down with a bread-knife and chair if she set her mind to it. She is truly awe-inspiring. As must they all be, I’m thinking.
I have known other women – and I was in awe of them as well. But I married the one I was most in awe of. Thus, having known other women, it’s obvious to me they are far more puissant than they let on.
Because there is more to their Kryptonite softness, alluring choomlahs (and associated parts), and titanium scorn-cores, which we, as the feebler and dumber sex, must somehow come to terms with.
I feel all of this, and ancient scholars agree with me – and indeed knew all about women from the very beginning, which is why they worked so long and hard to subjugate them – is directly linked to their recurring menstrual episodes.
Stop. Do not run off squealing “Yuck!” like some brainless, beer-sodden brute. This is important, and this is based on millennia of observations by wiser men than you. You need to know this, and you need to be made aware of what we, as men, are actually dealing with here.
On the surface, her regular monthly emission may appear benign in many instances, and somewhat inconvenient in others. But nothing more, right?
Wrong. So, so, so wrong. Let me explain, so that you will know how wrong you are.
My wife, who is no longer subject to the monthly curse, has transmogrified into an even more powerful and terrifying creature. Somehow, she is housing a nuclear oven inside her slight, sweet-smelling form. This oven generates some kind of internal heat which only she can feel, and which causes her to sleep with all the fans turned to 12, and all the air-conditioning dialled to Max Super Lo. If I turned my bedroom into an industrial meat-freezer, that would be even better for her, but she is stoic and knows I would likely die in such an environment, and she wants me alive for a bit longer yet. So fans and air-con.
But before this, she endured the monthly curse, as did all my girlfriends before her. My wife, unlike some of my former girlfriends, was able to mitigate the curse by sheer force of will – and all I ever saw was a mildly grumpy creature for a day or so, until she reverted back to her normal pleasant self.
There have been former girlfriends who lacked my wife’s will. Some would be bed-ridden for a week, hissing with hatred at the world. Others would be feral with cramps, spite-flavoured sweat sheening their once desirable bodies, and utterly unapproachable. And there was one who reminded me of that poor girl from the Exorcist film. The only thing she was unable to do was rotate her head, but everything else was pretty much as the film portrayed it.
Science has come some way in explaining this to men, but there is much science is missing, and we must turn to the ancients and their true eldritch wisdom to get a fuller picture of what the actual fuck is going on here.
Hold onto your scrote-sacks, man-bitches, this is some hard schoolin’…
The ancient Greeks had established that women’s periods were a cosmic event – like the death of stars and the collapse of galaxies. The bleeding was linked directly to the moon.
The term “menstruation” comes directly from the Greek word for moon, which is “mene”. The idiot Romans who followed the Greeks in all things, adopted this word and turned it into the Latin word for month, which is “mensis”.
But the Greeks discovered much more than just WHEN this happened. They knew all about the consequences of this happening. You see, the Greeks felt women were at the peak of their spiritual and mental power when they were menstruating.
The Ancient Egyptians, who were certainly not fools or idiots given their architectural triumphs, had rituals which involved the drinking of menstrual blood to increase one’s spiritual power. Wonder no longer how the pyramids were built, people. We know.
The Greeks weren’t big on drinking it, but they were very keen to mix it with red wine and sprinkle it on their fields to increase fertility. One super-wise Greek, Hippocrates (the father of medicine, by the way) started the practice of bleeding sick people after watching women bleed for five days and then recover. Bleeding is still done today.
His mate, Aristotle, was unconvinced. He was of the view women were simply unfinished men and their menstrual blood was a lesser form of semen. Which is all one can expect of a philosopher who felt that pedagogical pederasty was a normal thing.
BC-era Jews were actually gripped with terror when confronted with a menstruating woman – and the Jews were always considered the wisest of people. The Jews separated their women from the tribe during their menstruation. The ladies were considered appallingly impure in the eyes of God. Anything they touched or sat on had to be re-blessed immediately by a Rabbi.
No less a scholar and naturalist than Gaius Plinius Secundus, also known as Pliny the Elder, came to the scientific conclusion that while menstruating women could certainly blunt weapons, dull mirrors, kill crops, and drive dogs mad, they could also stop hailstorms, lightning, and tornadoes. And so, the great paradox of the female was created. Both nurturer and destroyer. And when they danced naked on tables, entire cities would be burned in their honour.
Things got more complicated during the Middle Ages. But bleeding ladies were still considered to present massive societal problems – which is no doubt why many were thrown off cliffs, or herded into nunneries so God could supervise them with extra strictness.
But scientific observations were continuously being made, as man struggled to understand this recurring phenomenon.
The great medical scholar, Trota of Salerono (11th Century AD) was greatly troubled by menstruating women’s “arising odours” and made them carry bags of nutmeg to conceal the noxious fumes. Trota was convinced these odours were powerfully corrosive, and worked tirelessly to stem the rising tide of fear that gripped society at that time. Nutmeg sales went through the roof.
Women were also told to take the hair from an animal’s head, and tie it to a young sapling. This was the sovereign remedy for a particularly heavy flow. Another proven remedy was to burn a toad in a pot, put the ashes into a pouch, and tie the pouch around her waist so that her bleeding internals and the noxious vapours they emitted would be controlled.
The Catholic Church, which is still the guiding moral light for most of the western world, was forced to put aside its rape-culture of small boys, and address female menstruation in the strongest possible terms. Couples were forbidden from making the beast with two backs during menstruation, since God had advised the priests any children which resulted from this union would have red hair. And the world was certainly not prepared for any more such satanic spawn to be born.
The French, a nation of hysterical bitches if there ever was one, nonetheless had given great consideration to the concept of sex during menstruation. And it came as no surprise they were in accord with the Catholic Church. If you wanted to birth something “puny, languid, and moribund, with an infinity of fetid maladies, foul and stinking” then have sex and conceive during menstruation.
The evidence must have been there. How else could such conclusions be reached?
Men, in general, and clearly informed by what they had seen with their own eyes and in their own homes, were convinced that menstrual blood was more corrosive than any acid. It would destroy the penis on contact, or might even be put into powerful love potions which would enslave the man to the woman for all eternity. Menstrual blood was also proven to both cure and cause leprosy.
Scholars were well aware menstrual blood would sour good wine, cause trees to shed their fruit, murder bees in their hives, cause fields to lie fallow, and give dogs rabies. And, heaven forfend, should one ever encounter an old, pre-menopausal woman – old here meaning maybe 20 – the accumulation of unshed blood inside her would cause her eyes to give off vapours which would poison babies in their cradles.
This poisonous blood was called “menotoxin”, and it was feared and respected throughout the known and unknown world.
Clearly, there were terrible things going on. No-one was getting a hold on this, and things were spiralling out of control. It got so bad, nearly all the able-bodied men in Europe kept running off to the Middle East to fight with the local able-bodied men. They called it the “Crusades”, but it was nothing but an escape from the Armageddon of slaughtered bees, sour wine, and poisoned babies men were experiencing all over the world.
The following centuries saw women being subjugated, persecuted, and enslaved – which was viewed as the only possible way to prevent them poisoning all of mankind with the cataclysmically evil vapours and humours they emitted when they bled from the choomlah.
And here we are today. We have more science up us, and we know bulk more stuff about bulk more stuff than some medieval pig-breeder who threw his wife into a well because his dog bit him.
But what do we really know about women? What can we possibly ever know about such wondrous beings? They are so unlike us their expectations of equality are utterly foolish. I think they’re only asking for equality because they feel sorry for us. Acknowledging they are superior to us in every way – apart from maybe being able to fight a wolf or a bear for slightly longer – would only hurt our very fragile feelings.
There’s not much call for us men to fight a savage, family-eating sabre-tooth in the mouth of the cave anymore. And it shows. Most of us would struggle to get off the couch without groaning. Which is an indication of how safe we feel, and how physical prowess is no longer of any use to men in terms of getting the hottest chick and thus ensuring strong and comely offspring.
So men have undergone something of a reverse-Reformation – and become the very thing the tribe used to chase from the village with stones.
Women, on the other hand, have only become more powerful, more glorious, and more delightful to root since they lost all their pubic hair sometime around 1996.
They still bleed. And terrible things still happen as a result. That’s just science, as our wise elders knew. Women, it’s obvious, have the power to unmake the very world and send us all screaming into the abyss.
Be thankful they still find us amusing enough not to do that. For now.
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Boris is a writer who has contributed to many magazines and websites over the years, edited a couple of those things as well, and written a few books. But his most important contribution is pissing people off. He feels this is his calling in life and something he takes seriously. He also enjoys whiskey, whisky and the way girls dance on tables. And riding motorcycles. He's pretty keen on that, too.