Sunday 7 April 2013

The Victim Card

Ah, the victim card. Women are exceptionally good at playing this.

Because they're a woman, it is "socially expected" (in their minds, anyway) that their side of any story be the one automatically believed. As a group, they promote this thinking. (Actually they attempt to shove it down your throat, but what the hell. Most people are too unaware to notice when it's attempted, let alone when successfully done.)

There's always two sides to a story, though.

And some women - ah, they play the victim card with consummate skill and finesse.

I ran into one recently, she is a master of it. So much so that its a habit she's gotten into. She needs running over, given what she's doing with her victim card. So, let us rev up the two-ton bulldozer!

Her Age: just turning 40.

Her Looks: pleasantly blond, reasonably decent body and face. Not a hot babe, though she could easily vamp up to a 7-8 if she wanted to. More the cute type.

Her Situation: as a young child (around 10) she survived a rare-ish form of cancer. One that left her sterile (instead of dead).

Now, normally you would not expect to be hit with the latter kind of information on a first social meeting. That would be revealed over time. You WOULD be expecting to hear that kind of thing if you were listening to an inspirational speaker.

This girl was in a bar and pulling flyers (!) out of her purse within 5 minutes of being introduced.

The flyer urges me to make a donation so that she can "continue her mission of hope, love and encouragement to cancer patients around the world". Apparently via an overseas trip later this year. This was so astounding that I kept the flyer for reference.

"I can't have children" - ah, that brings a little tear to me eye, that does. The puir wee lassie, there's nae other lass that's in that situation. Oh wait: there was Fee who caught an STD at age twelve, that made her sterile (different name, yet a real person I know). Nothing more to see here, move along.

A prime Victim Card, this one has. Used like a velvet-padded bludgeon also - I'm not gonna reveal any more details, other than to say that the flyer was written by a master at the art of tugging the heartstrings. A deft hand at the marketing pen, almost worthy of Gary Halbert himself.

A good thing that I chainsawed my heartstrings a while back.

Harsh news for you, girl: you are by no means unique. Unless you mean uniquely entitled, because you sure have that entitlement mentality going at high-octane-hamster-speed. There are many people who've survived that cancer that you survived, who simply go on about their days, being a quiet comfort to their family and friends. They beat it, they ain't pounding on their chest and shouting to the world about how wonderful they are for doing it.

It's called being humbly glad to be alive.

More harsh news for you, girl: doctors and nurses also give hope, love and encouragement. It's what they're trained to do. Yes, they get paid for it - their training doesn't come cheap. Unlike you, they give it to a lot more than a very simple, sub-selection of sufferers out there. It's also a lot more practical than love, hope and encouragement. It fucking saves peoples fucking lives.

You simply make a big hoopla of it.

I'd think a lot more pleasantly of you if you funded your overseas extreme lifestyle trip yourself, instead of throwing yourself upon the charity of others for your holiday. There are women who are actually capable of paying their own way like that, you know. Unlike you, who are asking for donations - which would be better off used to help others directly.

There's a word for sucking off someone else's tit like that: leech.

It's also called fucking hypocrisy.

I decided to test her with a small little verbal jab: as expected, she flinched and had a little passive-aggressive whinge. Typical victim mentality, one of those types all right. Not wanting to seem like a complete turd I gave her a little hug and a gentle apology - then basically ignored her for the rest of the night.

The last I saw, she was giggling over a guy I know in passing who was chatting her up. Better you than me mate - I'd be afraid of being infected if I even did a simple pump'n'dump. Which is probably what will happen to her: she can't keep a man, probably because of the constant victim bullshit being too much to swallow.

If she ever reads this and recognises herself, I hope that her soul dies a little more. Kill that fucking hamster one drop of black poison at a time. Her septic entitlement mentality deserves it, and taking a scalpel to that kind of mentality is a distinct pleasure.

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