[Disclosure: This post is rated I for Irony and S for Sarcasm.]

Earlier this week, we heard about a controversial essay written by Kim “I am too a man” du Toit. In it, Kim discussed one of the greatest evils of the 21st century, The Pussification Of The Western Male. Commentary can found in many places, including on The Tooney Bin, A Small Victory, or Josh Reynold’s blog to cite one example we found randomly on Technorati.

Because Sadly, No! is a blog that prides itself on being connected with all that is hip and happening, we knew there had to be people out there who had a different point of view. No — not girly men who disagreed they have become pussified, and no, not women who think a KimMan? is a dickless wanker. We mean women who think society’s greatest problem is not the pussification of the western male, but rather the dickification of the western female. As luck would have it, we were right. We reprint below an essay sent to us from a woman blogger who has asked that she remain anonymous for now, so we will call her Amber Pawlik to protect her identity. So please sit back, grab an alcoholic beverage, and see what Amber Pawlik [not her real name!] has to say about:

The Dickification of the Western Female

We have become a nation of men.

It wasn?t always this way, of course. There was a time when women put their apron on, knowing full well that this single act had better result in a great meal, or their husbands might have valid grounds for having their secretaries work “overtime” with them. Their Cosmo allowance would be turned over to the kids, or given to a woman who could make a great beef stew, for fcuk?s sake.

There was a time when women went back to the bedroom after dinner, with expressions like “If you need a beer to relax, no need to get off the couch, just call and I’ll get it for you.”

There was a time when women had sex with their husbands, sometimes against their own wishes, so that other men wouldn’t need to suffer the grumpiness that comes from sex deprived men. And there was a time when it was ok to sleep with the local hoe if men had to be on the road for work, because when a man has to do what a man has to do, it?s ok.

There was a time when a woman would threaten to scratch another woman’s eyes out, because she had the temerity to say bad things about her meatloaf.

We’re not like that anymore.

Now, girls in high school are being told to stop playing with their cooking set and learn about home financing and compound interest, told to put down their knitting set and other familiar variations that helped them learn, at an early age, what it was like to have to satisfy your man, to provide for him, because you’re not as good as him.

Now, women are taught that subordination is bad ? that when a man wants sex or a quiet evening with the guys at the strip club– that the proper way to deal with this is to “give him hell,” instead of retreating to the bedroom with a vibrator, a bottle of Jimmy Dean, and a pair of AA alkaline batteries.

Now, women’s fashion includes not a woman dressed in a proper skirt from Sears, but loose-fitting pants worn by a woman without breasts.

Now, instructions are included with microwave ovens, as though women have somehow forgotten how to cook.

Now, women are given leadership responsibilities as little girls, so that their natural obedience, subservience and deference can be controlled, instead of nurtured and directed.

And finally, our former First Lady, who had the audacity not only to attend law school but also to graduate from it, gets elected to the US Senate ?the US fcuking Senate?and tries to do a man?s job while her husband stays at home. No wonder the Europeans (and NOW) love her, because the process of dickification is almost complete.

How did we get to this?

In the twentieth century, men became more and more involved in the raising of the children, in parents-teachers associations, and in discussing important decisions with their wives — and mostly, this has not been a good thing. When men got to be role models for their daughters, it was inevitable that they were going to become more powerful, more assertive, and more “demanding” (i.e. more masculine), because men are hard-wired to treasure independence, more than respect for authority. It was therefore inevitable that their masculine influence on children was going to emphasize (lowercase “t”) testosterone.

I am aware of the fury that this statement is going to arouse, and I don’t care a fig.

What I care about is the fact that since the beginning of the twentieth century, there has been a concerted campaign to praise women, to raise them to figures to be respected, and to render them unattractive, literally speaking.

I’m going to illustrate this by talking about TV, because my husband doesn’t let me out of the house unless we need groceries.

In the 1950s, the TV Mom was seen as the lovable clueless figure in need of assistance — perhaps not the beginning of the trend — BUT yet even back then there were times when she was allowed to resolve a problem on her own. Once women were shown it was ok to change a light bulb of fix a leaky faucet, the door to evil had been opened (think of the line: “Honey, don’t worry about changing the oil on the car, I can do it.”)

From that, we went to this: the AFLAC figure skating commercial on supplemental insurance.

Now, for those who haven’t seen this piece of shiit, I’m going to go over it, from memory, because it epitomizes everything I hate about the campaign to dickify women. The scene opens at a skating rink, where the two figure skaters are practicing. The dialogue goes something like this:

Female skater (note, not male skater): You should get supplemental insurance.
Male Skater: What’s that?
FS: It helps cover you in case you get injured and can’t work.
MS (humorously): Uh?
Mother (not humorously): If you don’t get any, you’ll end up on the street a penniless [ why doesn’t she just come out and say penisless??? -AP ] drunk you moron.

Now, every time I see that TV ad, I have to be restrained from smashing the TV with my 3-inch heels. If you want a microcosm of how women have become like men, this is the perfect example.

Even the fcuking duck is smarter than the man in that piece of crap, and the woman now has the knowledge, wisdom and experience to make complicated financial decisions. If I tried to tell my husband how to run our risk management, he’d slap me across the face and I’d thank him for it. He could then go and fcuk his secretary, who doesn’t try to tell him how to run his life on a daily basis. But today, when the affair is discovered, people are going to rally around the suffering lesbian called his wife, and call him all sorts of names. He’ll lose custody of his kids, and they will be brought up by our ultimate modern-day figure of sympathy: The Single Dyke.

You know what? Some women deserve to be bitter and single, having to rely on out of town truckers to satisfy their sexual needs.

When I first started my website, I think my primary aim was to blow off steam at the stupidity of our society.

Because I have fairly set views on what constitutes right and wrong, I have no difficulty in calling Hillary “Rodham” Clinton, for example, a fcuking liar and hypocrite.

But most of all, I do this website because I love being a woman. Amongst other things, I talk about makeup, haircuts, fashion, beautiful scarves, sewing, cooking, cleaning, and vacuum cleaners — all the things that being a woman entails. All this stuff gives me pleasure.

And it doesn’t take much to see when all the things I love are being threatened: when the prime source for women’s advice is Oprah, for instance, you know Western society has bottomed out, big time. The show should have been called Woman Improvement, because that’s what every single episode entailed: turning a woman into a “better” person, instead of just leaving her alone to listen to her husband talking about his hard day at the office. I stopped watching the show after about four weeks.

Martha Stewart was better, at least the first season ? women making the home perfect, throwing together the best soir?es even at the last minute, decorating the living room so that it looked like it was their man’s even though they hadn’t done anything. Excellent stuff, only not strong enough. I don?t watch it anymore, either, because it?s plain that the idea has been subverted by lesbians, who think it?s ok to put independent thought into endeavors meant to please men, rather than themselves.

Finally, we come to the TV show which to my mind epitomizes everything bad about what we have become: The View. Playing on lesbian affiliates around the country, this piece of excrement has taken over the popular culture by storm (and so far, the only counter has been the great Saturday Night Live parodies which took it apart for the bs it is). Star Jones thinks she?s a lawyer? What’s her legal area of expertise? How many Twinkies she can shove in her mouth?

I’m sorry, but the premise of the show nauseates me. A bunch of lesbians trying to “improve” ordinary women into something “better” (i.e. more acceptable to other lesbians): changing the gal?s attitude, giving advice on her job (her job!), her status in society — for fcuk’s sake, what kind of lesbian would allow these overpowering Xenas to change her life around?

Yes, women are, by and large, not real bright. Big fcuking deal! Last time I looked, that?s normal. Women are dumb, and that only changes when men marry them, when they finally have someone smarter to whom all important decisions can be entrusted. That?s the natural order of things.

You know the definition of independent women we used in Louisiana? ?Women with small tits who better stock up on batteries.?

Real women, on the other hand, have nice big tits: C or D, or CC or DD, or else they get a push-up bra before it?s time for sex, and then they have the common sense to turn off the lights first.

Men need sex.

Which is why some women are trying to impose preposterous notions like “no means no” and “even married women don?t have to say yes to sex to their husbands.” No fcuking way ladies! Men work hard ? ever had to spend a day in a cubicle next to Bill, who’s like way more ahead of his monthly sales quota than you are? You think Glengarry Glen Ross is fiction? It’s a fcuking kindergarten compared to the typical office. No wonder men need some release at home.

My website has become fairly popular with women, and in the beginning, this really surprised me, because I didn’t think I was doing anything special.

That’s not what I think now. I must have had well over five thousand women write to me to say stuff like “Yes! I agree! I was so angry when I read about [insert atrocity of choice], but I though I was the only one.”

No, you’re not alone dear, and nor am I.

Out there, there is a huge number of women who are sick of it. We’re sick of being made figures of competence and authority; we’re sick of having lesbians as journalists (yeah Maureen Down and Anna Quidlen, I’m talking to you!) advertising agency execs and movie stars decide on “what is a woman”; we’re sick of men treating us like equals, and we’re really fcuking sick of manly-women politicians who pander to girly men by passing an ever-increasing raft of gender equality laws and regulations (the legal equivalent of public-school Ritalin), which prevent us from being paid less for doing the same work, giving up our maiden name and our blenders, breat implants (I’ll take cancer over small boobs, fcukverymuch,) getting into catfights over men, blowing the entire football team squad at a frat party, and doing all the fine things which being a woman entails.

Fcuk this, I’m sick of it.

I don’t see why I should put up with this bs any longer — hell, I don’t see why any woman should put up with this bs any longer.

I don’t see why women should have become masculinized, accept that we allowed it to happen — and you know why we let it happen? Because it’s easier to do so. Unfortunately, we’ve allowed it to go too far, and our femaleness has become too dickified for words.

At this point, I could have gone two ways: the first would be to say, “…and I don’t know if we’ll get it back. The process has become too entrenched, the cultural zeitgeist of women as men has become part of the social fabric, and there’s not much we can do about it.”

Well, I’m not going to quit. Fcuk that. One of the characteristics of the non-dickified woman (and this should strike fear into the hearts of lesbians and manly-women everywhere) is that she never quits just because the odds seem overwhelming. Think thanksgiving turkey, ladies.

I want a real woman as First Lady — not Hillary “Rodham” Clinton, who wanted to chair a commission on health care reform to show who has the balls in that relationship, and use her maiden name in public, when we all knew that real women don’t to do that shiit.

And I want the Real Woman First Lady to surround herself with other Real Women, like Mrs. Clarence Thomas, and Mrs. Dick Cheney, and yes, Mrs. Robert Dole (who is more of a Real Woman than those dykes Condoleezza Rice and Janet Reno).

I want our unelected public figures to be more like a proper wife — kind, helpful, and eager to tell their man they’ll do anything to make them happy when they fcuk up, instead of telling them that maybe invading Iraq wasn?t such a bright idea after all.

I want our leading ladies to start rolling back the Emancipation State, in all its horrible manifestations of over-liberation, assertiveness and “Mommy Knows How to do Stuff too” regulations.

I want our culture to become more female — not the satirical kind of female, like Martha Stewart, or the cartoonish figures of Paula Abdul, Connie Chung or Michelle Malkin. (Note to the Hollywood execs: We absolutely loathe James Bond movies with women who can save their own lives, rescue James from danger, all that feminine jive. We want more June Cleaver, Ginger, that woman from Married with Children, Lucianne Goldberg, and yes, Jonah Goldberg too. Never mind that it’s simplistic — we like simple, we are simple, we are women — our lives are uncomplicated, and we like it that way. Die Hard was a great movie, and you know why? Because if you had cut out Bruce Willis’ part, the woman would have died. Because it involved a woman acting like a Real Woman.

I want our literature to become more female, less male. Women shouldn’t buy “self-help” books unless the subject matter is baking, sexual techniques that give men pleasure, or how to remove a jammed toast in a fcuking Black & Decker toaster. We don’t improve ourselves, we improve our small home appliances.

And finally, I want women everywhere to going back to being Real Women. To cook meals for men, to shine that kitchen floor to a spot-free shine, to clean up after a meal, to go down on their husbands when they need it.

In every sense of the word. We know what the words “if you think so honey” mean.

Because that’s all that being a Real Woman involves. You don’t have to become a fcuking cartoon female, either: I’m not going back to marrying multiple wives like those Muslim a-holes do, nor am I suggesting we support that perversion of being a Real Woman, who decides to use contraception on her own, so that she can control her sex life.

It’s all a reaction: a reaction against being dickified. And I understand it, completely. Young women are catty, they do fight amongst themselves over who can make the best lasagna, give the best bj, provide the cutest children, and all this does happen for a purpose.

Because only the domesticated women propagate.

And men know it. You want to know why I know this to be true? Because dumb broads still attract men if they know how to be proper housewives. Men, even gay men, swooned over Anna Nicole Smith in a Playboy pictorial. The Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders still get access to some of the biggest hunks available, despite having attended college. Nancy Reagan could fcuk 90% of all men over 50 if she wanted to, and a goodly portion of younger ones too.

But she won’t. Because Nancy isn?t married to a wussy like John Tesh, and she knows she has to stand by her man. Just say no was the slogan of the campaign against drugs, but it could have been used for the campaign against the dickification of women. She’s a Real Woman. No wonder NOW hates and fears her.

We’d better get more like her, we’d better become more like her, because if we don’t, women will become a footnote to history. Thanks for reading. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen.

Update: A. Meeba responds with The Genitalization Of The Western Amoeba. It’s a must read.