Women are essentially a philosophical nightmare thought experiment about self-aware and autonomous thinking beings whose self-awareness and autonomy are simultaneously undermined and squandered as soon as they begin thinking by inescapable mental dead-ends and circular reasoning that leads nowhere. Like a slave programmed to love slavery, it’s a sight repugnant, pitiful and abominable. It is impossible to love a woman without willingly wrapping a blindfold around your head and over your eyes and tying it in the back with a triple knot; to love a woman is to deprive yourself of your senses of your own volition via self-induced ignorance. The sexual impulse destroys the body and mind of the woman, and psychical eroticism destroys her psychical existence, assuming she ever had any to start with. Ordinary sexuality regards the woman only as a means of gratifying passion or of begetting children. The higher eroticism is merciless to the woman, requiring her to be merely the vehicle of a projected personality, or the mother of psychical children. Loving a woman is not only anti-logical, as it denies the objective truth of the woman and requires only an illusory image of her, but it is anti-moral with regard to her.

The very existence of a man, on the other hand, is like an implicit promethean argument for the existence of a magnanimous omnibenevolent God who wants to seed the Earth with sapient monads and watch them self-create and grow into perfect beings in the process of intelligent self-design and join him in heaven once they complete the process. You can stare up at the statue of David with his lusty sinews and stern gaze all ready to manfully confront Being itself, and be instantly transported back to ancient Athens, feel the purity of humanitarian self-love that the Greeks created when they first tried to understand the question "Why are we here?" but just as you get lost in such contemplations, you hear an odious noise and look to your right and there's a vomit-inducing, grotesque female taking selfies, giggling tediously and demanding that people pay undeserved deference to her, and in a flash, the dream of human transcendence is lost, in an instant the crushing weight of nihilism and the pointless brownian jiggling of the universe comes crashing back into your mind. If God created this, you think, looking back at David, why did he also create A WOMAN?

Everything is so deliberately balanced in man, even his tragedies are so paradoxically noble that he actually invented and conceptualised tragedy itself as a form of becoming-through-suffering. And then there's woman, women, pointless consumers and self-obsessed narcissistic animals, vapid, jejune parasites, redundant and vestigial organs, like the tonsils of the species. Women are the single biggest argument against intelligent design. Only a cold uncaring sloppy messy process of gradualist evolution could create women, could take the beautiful noble soul of Man and slap it into an inferior and degenerate form that only uses it for mindless self-validation.

Every single creature in nature is beautiful in form and function except women. Every non-human organism is the perfect entelechy of itself, except Man, whose entelechy is an endless paradoxical striving to complete his own entelechy for he is able to subjugate and overcome even his own biological potential by conquering Nature itself. In the race of life, plants and animals provide the scenery, and man runs the race itself. That all makes perfect sense. It's an intelligent, elegant design. But then there's woman, the being that simply "is," like a vegetable, but who is yet somehow, for a reason unknown to us, on the track and refusing to run. An abomination ruining the perfect consistency of natural order. Woman, perpetually sitting at the starting gate of life, wallowing with her head buried in proverbial sand, interminably bawling for men to stoop and pay attention to her as they pass by on their journey toward self-fulfillment. It's like looking at pure failure. Women are like a tapeworm that only exists to come into existence, jerk itself off while parasitically leeching off the surrounding environment, and expire.

Sauce