A young man is sat on a train reading a magazine, GQ or somesuch, ladsmag without so many tits, and in arty positions like around the lamp-post or something. down the aisle a trolley is pushed at high speed by a batty old woman who shouts "drinks...Refreshments" without really waiting for a response. the young man is prepared and puts his bag down in the aisle and waits for her to walk into it which she does
Woman: move your bag please it's a fire hazard
Man: (picking up bag as he speaks) can i get a cup of coffee, and have you got any ploughman's sandwiches?
Woman: no ploughmans
Man: cheese and pickle?
Woman: no cheese and pickle
man: prawn cocktail?
Woman: no prawn cocktail
Man: well...what cheesy sandwiches have you got then?
Woman: got alsatian
man: what?
woman: alsatian!
man: thats sick, i can't eat that
woman: well it's kind of like cheese
man: it's nothing like cheese, it's a dog
woman: was a dog, sir, was a dog, now it's a nutritious snack for the commuter on the go
man: you can't eat a dog!
woman: yes you can, it's been boned!
man: you can't eat a dog because it's an intelligent creature
woman: this one wasn't, fell in the mincer
man: oh thats horrible
woman: well if you don't like alsatian, how about terriyaki terrier?
man: oh god
woman: (reading from packet) using only the finest spices and cuts of rover this mouthwatering sandwich will fill you up all lunchtime
man: i will not eat a dog, no matter how mouthwatering it is
woman: alright then, how about fish?
man: whats the fish?
woman: tuna friendly dolphin
man: dolphin? you can't be serious?
woman: i did say tuna friendly dolphin sir, seeing as how dolphins get caught in tuna nets those clever fisherman worked out a special way of training tuna to make friends with the dolphins so they follow them into the nets. doubled their catch overnight they did sir. it was all over the news
man: i expect it was, this is ridiculous i just want a normal sandwich, a normal cheese sandwich
woman: i said we ain't got any cheese
man: alright, i'll have beef then
woman: beef? you're sick (storms off)
end
Wednesday, 25 June 2008
The Manager's Office
Ted enters from a door in the left hand wall into a managers office, standard lamp,, standard chair, in and out tray, assorted stationary. the desk is neat but not fastidiously so, there are two chairs,on either side of the desk, both are empty. The desk itself is constructed with a flat panel along the front so we cannot see underneath it. on the back wall, unnoticed by Ted is a large window with the curtains drawn, beneath the curtains we can see a single pair of legs, they belong to the MANAGER. Ted looks round the office, not noticing the legs he moves towards the door, opens it and calls out:-
TED: excuse me? i'm sorry, you did say he was in didn't you?
SANDRA: (V.O) yes he hasn't left,
TED: Oh, ok! (TURNING BACK INTO THE ROOM) hmm,
Ted looks around the room, goes over to the desk and looks over the top of it expecting the MANAGER to be behind it. he stands up straight again and once again looks round the room, this time noticing the pair of legs beneath the curtains. cautiously walking over, we see the curtains twitching faster and faster as he approaches. TED rips back the curtains revealing the MANAGER who instantly shrieks in terror and runs across the room to the safety of underneath his desk.
TED: sir? (CAUTIOUSLY APPROACHES DESK) Ted Carruther's sir, you called me in for an interview?
MANAGER: (NOT A TRACE OF FEAR) oh yes my boy, do take a seat.
TED: Are you alright sir?
MANAGER: perfectly well my boy why d'you ask?
TED: you're underneath a desk sir
MANAGER: (GENUINE ASTONISHMENT) am i?
TED: yes
MANAGER: oh yes, i do indeed seem to be under my desk.
TED: umm, will you be coming out?
MANAGER: i can't see why i would. tea?
TED: sorry?
MANAGER: tea? do you want? or would you prefer coffee?
TED: umm, tea, please
MANAGER: (SOUND OF A KETTLE BOILING BENEATH THE DESK, STEAM RISES FROM BEHIND THE DESK) milk?
TED: yes, urm, please.
MANAGER: sugar?
TED: no thankyou
MANAGER: watching your weight eh, my wife tells me to cut down on the sugar but she's just as bad...aren't you darling?
WIFE: (ALSO FROM BENEATH THE DESK) oh i'm not that bad anymore dear, i take sweetener nowadays.
MANAGER: none of that for me, a good strong sweet brew for me. i began as a labourer you see, got a taste for it then.
WIFE: you used to be out in the sun doing manual labour back then dear, your body needed the sugar.
MANAGER: lets not get into this now darling, Mr.Carruther's is here for the job opening in F Department.
WIFE: right - o, i'll go and get out of your hair, lovely to have met you Mr.Carruther's (A FEMALE HAND APPEARS ABOVE THE DESK, TED REACHES OVER TO SHAKE IT) and good luck to you.
TED: Thankyou
MANAGER: alright Ted, so you worked for Crinkle's for 5 years, why did you leave them?
TED: the company were forced to downsize and i was made redundant.
MANAGER: i see, and are you redundant?
TED: umm, well at the moment i am, thats why i'm here for the job
MANAGER:ooph, don't know if we want any redundant people here at Bingle's. leaving great piles of it everywhere
TED: i'm sorry sir?
MANAGER: redundant people, leave piles of poo everywhere
TED: ...i think you're mistaken sir, Redundant means that they didn't have a job for me there anymore.
MANAGER: so what was i thinking of? big noses...
TED: Elephants sir?
MANAGER: thats the bunnys. spot on. well i think we can get you started (SOUND OF HOOVERING FROM UNDER DESK) Marge dear! can you turn that off we're nearly done? can't hear meself think in heare (HOOVER STOPS) there we go. where was i...yes, i think we could get you started on monday if that suits you?
TED: yes sir, thankyou very much.
MANAGER: good man, see you monday.
TED shakes the MANAGER's hand that appears above the desk and exits.
END
TED: excuse me? i'm sorry, you did say he was in didn't you?
SANDRA: (V.O) yes he hasn't left,
TED: Oh, ok! (TURNING BACK INTO THE ROOM) hmm,
Ted looks around the room, goes over to the desk and looks over the top of it expecting the MANAGER to be behind it. he stands up straight again and once again looks round the room, this time noticing the pair of legs beneath the curtains. cautiously walking over, we see the curtains twitching faster and faster as he approaches. TED rips back the curtains revealing the MANAGER who instantly shrieks in terror and runs across the room to the safety of underneath his desk.
TED: sir? (CAUTIOUSLY APPROACHES DESK) Ted Carruther's sir, you called me in for an interview?
MANAGER: (NOT A TRACE OF FEAR) oh yes my boy, do take a seat.
TED: Are you alright sir?
MANAGER: perfectly well my boy why d'you ask?
TED: you're underneath a desk sir
MANAGER: (GENUINE ASTONISHMENT) am i?
TED: yes
MANAGER: oh yes, i do indeed seem to be under my desk.
TED: umm, will you be coming out?
MANAGER: i can't see why i would. tea?
TED: sorry?
MANAGER: tea? do you want? or would you prefer coffee?
TED: umm, tea, please
MANAGER: (SOUND OF A KETTLE BOILING BENEATH THE DESK, STEAM RISES FROM BEHIND THE DESK) milk?
TED: yes, urm, please.
MANAGER: sugar?
TED: no thankyou
MANAGER: watching your weight eh, my wife tells me to cut down on the sugar but she's just as bad...aren't you darling?
WIFE: (ALSO FROM BENEATH THE DESK) oh i'm not that bad anymore dear, i take sweetener nowadays.
MANAGER: none of that for me, a good strong sweet brew for me. i began as a labourer you see, got a taste for it then.
WIFE: you used to be out in the sun doing manual labour back then dear, your body needed the sugar.
MANAGER: lets not get into this now darling, Mr.Carruther's is here for the job opening in F Department.
WIFE: right - o, i'll go and get out of your hair, lovely to have met you Mr.Carruther's (A FEMALE HAND APPEARS ABOVE THE DESK, TED REACHES OVER TO SHAKE IT) and good luck to you.
TED: Thankyou
MANAGER: alright Ted, so you worked for Crinkle's for 5 years, why did you leave them?
TED: the company were forced to downsize and i was made redundant.
MANAGER: i see, and are you redundant?
TED: umm, well at the moment i am, thats why i'm here for the job
MANAGER:ooph, don't know if we want any redundant people here at Bingle's. leaving great piles of it everywhere
TED: i'm sorry sir?
MANAGER: redundant people, leave piles of poo everywhere
TED: ...i think you're mistaken sir, Redundant means that they didn't have a job for me there anymore.
MANAGER: so what was i thinking of? big noses...
TED: Elephants sir?
MANAGER: thats the bunnys. spot on. well i think we can get you started (SOUND OF HOOVERING FROM UNDER DESK) Marge dear! can you turn that off we're nearly done? can't hear meself think in heare (HOOVER STOPS) there we go. where was i...yes, i think we could get you started on monday if that suits you?
TED: yes sir, thankyou very much.
MANAGER: good man, see you monday.
TED shakes the MANAGER's hand that appears above the desk and exits.
END
After Dinner Speaking
Settle down please everyone, settle down. Now we are all gathered here, or here gathered I suppose, being the occasion that it is, to celebrate our dear friend and may I just begin by congratulating the chef's on there marvellous food. The pork was…well…pig…like, and the pheasant…should have been grouse by all accounts but that's neither here nor there now. Now we are all gathered neither here nor there this afternoon, oop well, I suppose evening now, all gathered here this evening to celebrate our good mate who was always there for us when we…wait can you hear me? I say, can you hear me at the back there? Eh?...speak up lad speak up. I said speak up! CAN-YOU-HEAR-ME? O-K G-O-OD. Right where was I? oh yes right here nor there to celebrate our chum. [aside] pour us a drink love that's right, no right to the top don't be scared it won't bite [to all] though I might later eh lads? Alright settle down settle down.
Now we are all gathered here tonight to celebrate our mate…oh hang on a moment I had all this written down [pats pockets followed by rustle of paper] yes here we go. [reading] we are all gathered here oh I've done that [murmuring] gathered here tonight to celebrate our dear friend Alf. [normal volume] he was always there for us when we needed him, I remember that night well when my herd got out and Alf was there in the driving rain helping me fetch them back. Yes, I remember that night well, it was only a week ago, it was the pneumonia he got then that finished him off but that's neither here nor there now, what matters now is that if he hadn't of been there he would be here now, so I guess it is here and now now. Lets not get caught up in the why's and how's and lets just get down to the business of raising our glasses to Alf. To Alf!... no Nora, your glass of wine not your specs, I said YOUR GLASS OF WINE DEAR, NOT YOUR SPE…oh forget it, marge love tell her its…YES THAT'S RIGHT DEAR, YEAH CHEERS LOVE…marge take that glass off her that's the third she's had and you know what it does to her…STICK TO THE BITTER LEMON LOVE, THE BITTER LEMON!...Mark get her a bitter lemon lad quick sharpish. Right, where were we…?
Alf was a fine man, I remember growing up on the farm, waking up those summer mornings and rushing out into the yard to find him sitting on that old stump and filling his pipe. I'd run up and leap on his shoulders and jump around like a young fool. If I'd known then about his crippling sciatica I probably would've reconsidered my actions but when your young you don't know the meaning of sciatica, fact is I don't know it now but that's the man I am. If doctor hadn't told me what pneumonia was I wouldn't know that either, would of done a bloody sight bit of good if he'd told me what it meant before I sent out Alf on that stormy night but least said soonest mended as my ma was wont of saying. Course she and Alf were an item back in the day [murmurings] now, now, I know what you all know and I may know a might bit more than you I know. I heard those rumours back when I was a lad as you all did and I know many say that perhaps they were a bit closer than sharing a tea cake over a hot Bovril of an evening but I can say categorically that it was absolute lies. Alf told me himself as he lay on his deathbed, well I say deathbed I mean death-turf but that's neither here nor there.
Alf lasted a good long time, he outlived my old dad. They were always together those two, I remember the time my dad told me about the time him and Alf went up town to meet up with these two birds and these two were real stunners. Anyway, me dad and Alf went to the King's Head and met up with old Jim Rogers and he said that this bird Alf was with did something special if you pinched her bum. So they go on to the Hammer and there's Albert Fenning and he says the same thing, pinch her bum for a treat. Goes without saying, old Alf's getting pretty hot by this point, probably not for young un's marge cover his ears. Right, so he's getting pretty hot and he takes her out into the alley behind and grabs her with both hands. Course I never believed the rumours about my Mum but I know there are those that do and I say shame on them. Anyway, bygones and all that, so lets just raise our glasses to Alf. To Alf! Now then, lets see about refilling this drink…
Now we are all gathered here tonight to celebrate our mate…oh hang on a moment I had all this written down [pats pockets followed by rustle of paper] yes here we go. [reading] we are all gathered here oh I've done that [murmuring] gathered here tonight to celebrate our dear friend Alf. [normal volume] he was always there for us when we needed him, I remember that night well when my herd got out and Alf was there in the driving rain helping me fetch them back. Yes, I remember that night well, it was only a week ago, it was the pneumonia he got then that finished him off but that's neither here nor there now, what matters now is that if he hadn't of been there he would be here now, so I guess it is here and now now. Lets not get caught up in the why's and how's and lets just get down to the business of raising our glasses to Alf. To Alf!... no Nora, your glass of wine not your specs, I said YOUR GLASS OF WINE DEAR, NOT YOUR SPE…oh forget it, marge love tell her its…YES THAT'S RIGHT DEAR, YEAH CHEERS LOVE…marge take that glass off her that's the third she's had and you know what it does to her…STICK TO THE BITTER LEMON LOVE, THE BITTER LEMON!...Mark get her a bitter lemon lad quick sharpish. Right, where were we…?
Alf was a fine man, I remember growing up on the farm, waking up those summer mornings and rushing out into the yard to find him sitting on that old stump and filling his pipe. I'd run up and leap on his shoulders and jump around like a young fool. If I'd known then about his crippling sciatica I probably would've reconsidered my actions but when your young you don't know the meaning of sciatica, fact is I don't know it now but that's the man I am. If doctor hadn't told me what pneumonia was I wouldn't know that either, would of done a bloody sight bit of good if he'd told me what it meant before I sent out Alf on that stormy night but least said soonest mended as my ma was wont of saying. Course she and Alf were an item back in the day [murmurings] now, now, I know what you all know and I may know a might bit more than you I know. I heard those rumours back when I was a lad as you all did and I know many say that perhaps they were a bit closer than sharing a tea cake over a hot Bovril of an evening but I can say categorically that it was absolute lies. Alf told me himself as he lay on his deathbed, well I say deathbed I mean death-turf but that's neither here nor there.
Alf lasted a good long time, he outlived my old dad. They were always together those two, I remember the time my dad told me about the time him and Alf went up town to meet up with these two birds and these two were real stunners. Anyway, me dad and Alf went to the King's Head and met up with old Jim Rogers and he said that this bird Alf was with did something special if you pinched her bum. So they go on to the Hammer and there's Albert Fenning and he says the same thing, pinch her bum for a treat. Goes without saying, old Alf's getting pretty hot by this point, probably not for young un's marge cover his ears. Right, so he's getting pretty hot and he takes her out into the alley behind and grabs her with both hands. Course I never believed the rumours about my Mum but I know there are those that do and I say shame on them. Anyway, bygones and all that, so lets just raise our glasses to Alf. To Alf! Now then, lets see about refilling this drink…
The Mob Lectures Part 2
The Mob Lectures Pt.2: Depression
at the age of 11/12ish i was diagnosed and clinically depressive. this differs, as far as my understanding goes, from manic depression in that the mood swings are not so viloently changeable, the depressive state is a steady one that can last indefinetly. in my case it usually lasts from one to two weeks and is usually started by some otherwise insignificant event that would be meaningless if it did not begin a spiral of mental destruction that is my depression.
my first bout of depression lasted about 6 months and would only affect me at home. at school and at friends houses i was perfectly fine but almost as soon as i returned home i would become so resentful of the presence of other people that i would shut myself away. after 2 months my parents took me to my local GP. after talking to him about my problems and what i believed was the problem he prescribed me fluexetine, more commonly known as prozac. i took this for the next 4 months as eventually my mental state returned to normal but this is far from a permanent state, it still affects me, usually at least once every 2 months.
when i was diagnosed as a diabetic this initially didn't trigger a depression episode, i was too focussed on trying to deal with the diabetes, but soon afterwards, when i was due to start a new course at a new university i suffered a mental breakdown due in part to my depression that forced me to return home. this is one of the worst events of my life, i nearly physically collapsed as it felt that the entire universe had just imploded onto my mind.
for me, depression is a twisted knot of darkness in the pit of my stomach, a mixture of anger, guilt and self-pity that constantly grips like a fist and pulls all the happiness out of life. it is the downward spiral. you are never truly cured of depression, you just have to deal with it, and the hope to hell that the people around you are human enough to recognise it and let you deal with it. and are still there when it passes.
Winston Churchill suffered from throughout his life and it's become an established fact that he described it as 'The Black Dog'. I believe it's pretty much universally thought of as the perfect description of the tension and darkness that stalks. you can feel it coming but the feeling is impossible to accurately describe, like trying to describe blue.
i write this for myself. it's something i don't usually talk about. maybe out of shame, maybe because my demeanour is usually so cheery that no one asks whether i'm depressed, either way this has been quite therapeutic.
thankyou
at the age of 11/12ish i was diagnosed and clinically depressive. this differs, as far as my understanding goes, from manic depression in that the mood swings are not so viloently changeable, the depressive state is a steady one that can last indefinetly. in my case it usually lasts from one to two weeks and is usually started by some otherwise insignificant event that would be meaningless if it did not begin a spiral of mental destruction that is my depression.
my first bout of depression lasted about 6 months and would only affect me at home. at school and at friends houses i was perfectly fine but almost as soon as i returned home i would become so resentful of the presence of other people that i would shut myself away. after 2 months my parents took me to my local GP. after talking to him about my problems and what i believed was the problem he prescribed me fluexetine, more commonly known as prozac. i took this for the next 4 months as eventually my mental state returned to normal but this is far from a permanent state, it still affects me, usually at least once every 2 months.
when i was diagnosed as a diabetic this initially didn't trigger a depression episode, i was too focussed on trying to deal with the diabetes, but soon afterwards, when i was due to start a new course at a new university i suffered a mental breakdown due in part to my depression that forced me to return home. this is one of the worst events of my life, i nearly physically collapsed as it felt that the entire universe had just imploded onto my mind.
for me, depression is a twisted knot of darkness in the pit of my stomach, a mixture of anger, guilt and self-pity that constantly grips like a fist and pulls all the happiness out of life. it is the downward spiral. you are never truly cured of depression, you just have to deal with it, and the hope to hell that the people around you are human enough to recognise it and let you deal with it. and are still there when it passes.
Winston Churchill suffered from throughout his life and it's become an established fact that he described it as 'The Black Dog'. I believe it's pretty much universally thought of as the perfect description of the tension and darkness that stalks. you can feel it coming but the feeling is impossible to accurately describe, like trying to describe blue.
i write this for myself. it's something i don't usually talk about. maybe out of shame, maybe because my demeanour is usually so cheery that no one asks whether i'm depressed, either way this has been quite therapeutic.
thankyou
The Mob Lectures P.t 1 of a several : Masculinist Literature
Much has been written in the last hundred or so years on the subject of feminism and it's place within literature. highlighting the place of the female within society it has been a major force for change. by emphasising the failings of a male dominated society and it's treatment of woman it has opened the eyes of many members of society to some of the barbarism and degredation that woman suffered and what had to be done to change this.
it has, however, eclipsed even the idea of Masculinist literature. it is an unfortunate truth that within our society we have become so obsessed with what is acceptable that the line of neutrality has shifted in favour of over sensitivity to discussion of certain topics that really cause no offence, it is only certain people that believe it should. this has created the situation where feminism has become such an accepted norm that the idea of masculinism instantly becomes associated with a sexist, female oppressive genre, but Masculinism is merely the highlighting of problems within the male sector of society, problems that have every right to be viewed as equally as Feminine.
Young male suicide rates have tripled in the last thirty years, they are now 6 times higher than that of females of the same age.
There is so little that can be truly described as masculinist literature partly due to the inherent idea that to be maculinist is to be sexist, but also partly because of the male dominated society that exists. Male specific problems are made a problem for society as a whole, whereas female specific problems are forced into the spotlight only by focus groups devoted to that end. it could be surmised that when Masculinist Literature is recognised as a genre is when we achieve true equality; when the problems of men are their own, and not forced onto everyone's shoulders.
Some may say that Masculinist Literature already exists, that the war fiction and spy novels deal with Men but this is not true. like the Chick-lit holiday fiction, these war novels don't deal with the actual everyday issues of a modern man, they force a view into the reader's mind of what life should be. A fantasy of what we all believe life is about but actually reflecting nothing of the truth. Ian Fleming is not Germaine Greer. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is not the Female Eunuch.
the line between Masculinism and sexism is an incredibly fine one but it is an artificial line created by society. True Masculinism is not interested in the oppression of the female or Feminism but just the opposite; to highlight, in equal measure with feminism, the plight that modern men deal with. in certain cases this can be even worse than that of women. the accepted society norm for men is a strenght and dependability, making many men contain their emotions and feelings inside them unhealthily whereas for a woman, who arguably, on balance, have a much more difficult life than a man from the beginning, it is much more acceptable to release emotion. to show emotion as a man is to show your weakness, and other men will pounce on that so as to re-enforce their own masculinity in a bizarre pack ritual. If, in our society, we are ever going to stop abuse from men, violence and maybe even war, we are going to have to allow men to express themselves as a group openly and without fear of emotional destruction because of it. This requires such an incredible shattering of what is considered normal within society that only a major disaster could ever offer that opportunity for change.
The only novel, to my knowledge, that could ever truly be called masculinist literature would be Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Sallinger. The tale of a young man it follows if life over few days around the Christmas holiday from his Preparatory school. It unashamedly deals with the whole gamut of feelings and emotions that the boy experiences and Sallinger is unabashed in his description of them. this book truly comes from the heart of someone who has many problems, and sees many problems with young men and has decided to show them to the world through literature. this is what Masculinist literature should be about, highlighting Male problems with society just like Feminist literature does the same for Females.
i'd also like to re-emphasize my full support of the feminist movement, Male oppression and abuse is a despicable and unforgivable act.
Much has been written in the last hundred or so years on the subject of feminism and it's place within literature. highlighting the place of the female within society it has been a major force for change. by emphasising the failings of a male dominated society and it's treatment of woman it has opened the eyes of many members of society to some of the barbarism and degredation that woman suffered and what had to be done to change this.
it has, however, eclipsed even the idea of Masculinist literature. it is an unfortunate truth that within our society we have become so obsessed with what is acceptable that the line of neutrality has shifted in favour of over sensitivity to discussion of certain topics that really cause no offence, it is only certain people that believe it should. this has created the situation where feminism has become such an accepted norm that the idea of masculinism instantly becomes associated with a sexist, female oppressive genre, but Masculinism is merely the highlighting of problems within the male sector of society, problems that have every right to be viewed as equally as Feminine.
Young male suicide rates have tripled in the last thirty years, they are now 6 times higher than that of females of the same age.
There is so little that can be truly described as masculinist literature partly due to the inherent idea that to be maculinist is to be sexist, but also partly because of the male dominated society that exists. Male specific problems are made a problem for society as a whole, whereas female specific problems are forced into the spotlight only by focus groups devoted to that end. it could be surmised that when Masculinist Literature is recognised as a genre is when we achieve true equality; when the problems of men are their own, and not forced onto everyone's shoulders.
Some may say that Masculinist Literature already exists, that the war fiction and spy novels deal with Men but this is not true. like the Chick-lit holiday fiction, these war novels don't deal with the actual everyday issues of a modern man, they force a view into the reader's mind of what life should be. A fantasy of what we all believe life is about but actually reflecting nothing of the truth. Ian Fleming is not Germaine Greer. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is not the Female Eunuch.
the line between Masculinism and sexism is an incredibly fine one but it is an artificial line created by society. True Masculinism is not interested in the oppression of the female or Feminism but just the opposite; to highlight, in equal measure with feminism, the plight that modern men deal with. in certain cases this can be even worse than that of women. the accepted society norm for men is a strenght and dependability, making many men contain their emotions and feelings inside them unhealthily whereas for a woman, who arguably, on balance, have a much more difficult life than a man from the beginning, it is much more acceptable to release emotion. to show emotion as a man is to show your weakness, and other men will pounce on that so as to re-enforce their own masculinity in a bizarre pack ritual. If, in our society, we are ever going to stop abuse from men, violence and maybe even war, we are going to have to allow men to express themselves as a group openly and without fear of emotional destruction because of it. This requires such an incredible shattering of what is considered normal within society that only a major disaster could ever offer that opportunity for change.
The only novel, to my knowledge, that could ever truly be called masculinist literature would be Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Sallinger. The tale of a young man it follows if life over few days around the Christmas holiday from his Preparatory school. It unashamedly deals with the whole gamut of feelings and emotions that the boy experiences and Sallinger is unabashed in his description of them. this book truly comes from the heart of someone who has many problems, and sees many problems with young men and has decided to show them to the world through literature. this is what Masculinist literature should be about, highlighting Male problems with society just like Feminist literature does the same for Females.
i'd also like to re-emphasize my full support of the feminist movement, Male oppression and abuse is a despicable and unforgivable act.
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