Dear Thought Catalog,
We need to talk. Our relationship as author and website started out so well. I really liked the producer I worked with, I enjoyed the exposure my articles received, and the turnaround on publishing work was beyond quick. You respected my work, never pushing for content-based edits, never making my words anything but my own.
This was until I found out that you had been seeing a sexist, racist, transphobic writer on the side. I’m talking about Jim Goad, a man who brags about having assault records in three states and the author of The Redneck Manifesto. Don’t get me wrong, we never said we were exclusive, you never promised me a website that agrees with me 100% of the time (that’s no fun, anyway).
Jim Goad, though? You can do better, Thought Catalog. Free speech is a great thing. What Goad does, though? That’s hate speech. He has repeatedly degraded women, called transgender people “self-mutilating freaks,” and proven himself to be borderline white-supremacist.
Yes, he has a basic right to free speech. Yes, he can say all of this, however disgusting it may be, without fear of crackdown (odd that he’s in favor of the Russian law that polices speech/”propaganda”). What he doesn’t have is a right to have his views published.
You are under no obligation to publish his work, let alone tweet links to it to your 288,000+ Twitter followers. Oddly enough, I’ve noticed that whenever one of the transgender writers like Zinnia Jones, Kat Haché or Samantha Allen publish articles, you very rarely broadcast their work. Why is that?
I cannot continue to submit content to a website so willing to publish “counterpoints” where people like me are referred to as “self-mutilating freaks” and equates being transgender with being a mass murderer. I cannot continue to contribute to a website that publishes articles that state that women shouldn’t be allowed to join the military. I cannot continue to associate myself with a site that so closely aligns itself with Jim Goad.
I doubt you’ll publish this and should you, I doubt you’ll give me the same level of exposure Goad gets. This article won’t be tweeted, this article won’t be shared to your Facebook page. This article will be buried as the list-based clickbait gets your full attention.
So goodbye, Thought Catalog. Our relationship was brief, yet full of adventure. Anyone who cares to continue reading my writing can go to my personal blog at parkthatcar.net, or check out any of the other sites I do freelance work.
Finally, before I go, I’d like to share some of Jim Goad’s own words, a “greatest hits” of Goad’s posts on Thought Catalog from the last two months. If you can read through these excerpts, finding nothing wrong with his language, fair enough.
For me, though, I can’t. Be well, everyone.
1. Dangerously Sensitive
If I had my druthers, I’d bring all the boys—and they’d all be boys, meaning no girls and definitely no boys who suddenly decide that they’re girls—home to guard the true national-security threat, the one along the Mexican border. Before any of you perpetually sour-pussed pea-picking peckerwoods in the peanut gallery start grousing that I’m some sort of neocon, allow me to sternly instruct you that it’s possible to simultaneously disapprove of Islam and Zionism…
By the way, his name is Bradley Manning, and he’s a guy. To claim he’s suddenly a chick is to deny biological reality.
Before he started blowing whistles, Bradley Manning was obviously blowing other things. Despite the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy that was in effect at the time, Manning was apparently telling everyone who’d listen that he was gay. Perhaps even though Manning was eager to “tell,” no one wanted to risk the appearance of having asked. He reportedly told his roommate he was gay, at which point his roommate allegedly instructed Manning to stop talking to him. Manning divulged the ins and outs of a failed gay relationship on Facebook. He was even said to have kept a fairy wand at his desk. At a pre-trial hearing, Army officials claimed they were fully aware that Manning had also created a female alter ego he called “Breanna Manning.”
2. Fun Vagina Facts
The largest vagina ever recorded is thought to have belonged to seven-foot eight-inch Anna Swan (1846-1888), a long-legged Scottish temptress who once plopped out a 26-pound baby, the biggest bambino recorded in world history. Although I was unable to uncover any recorded evidence of her vagina’s exact dimensions, it’s safe to assume you could comfortably fit a flat-screen TV in there.
The smallest vaginas, though, are the ones that don’t even exist. Roughly one in 5,000 female babies are born sans vagina. How, then, do doctors know they’re female? I suppose because they complain a lot.
A germ-infested slime pit
The average human girl-gash is host to 15 different strains of bacteria, “good germs” designed to ward off the renegade “bad germs” which can invade a vagina and make life hell for everyone.
3. The Barren Wombs of Smart Women
Kanazawa is widely known as a “controversial” researcher, which is coded speech meaning that his results cause significant discomfort among those who swallow the reigning cultural dogma. In the past he has faced disapprobation, ridicule, and even job dismissal for publishing studies that claim black women are less attractive than women of other races due to their higher testosterone levels, sub-Saharan Africa’s poverty is caused by low IQ, intelligent men are less likely to cheat on their partners, and attractive people are more likely to produce female offspring. He also wrote that if Ann Coulter had been president in 2001, she would have dropped nuclear bombs on the Middle East and won the War on Terror “without a single American life lost.”
4. Understanding the Catholic Schoolgirl Fetish
I believe that if a woman insists on wearing clothes, at least let it be a Catholic schoolgirl uniform. I find them so hot, my testes swell like boiled eggs whenever I see one. My cock is drawn to a plaid skirt like a big pink moth to a flame. I can’t describe it because it is beyond words…it is spiritual. ’Tis something more mystical than the divine mysteries of the Eucharist. It is the power of the Holy Ghost moving between a girl’s thighs. Her plaid skirt is the matador’s red cape, and my cock is the bull. I see that red tartan pattern, and I need to get at the little furry monkey beneath it.
Raise that Cunt Kilt and fuck her. Pull her pigtails and fuck her HARD. Spread her legs like the Red Sea and savagely defile the wench…
How many thousands of times during her schooling has she been forced down onto her knees, eyes closed and mouth wide open, awaiting the bland Christ wafer? So the first time she takes it upon herself to get down on her knees, be sure she’ll put something more substantial in her mouth.
5. It’s Hard to Be a Homo in Russia
In the progressive narrative, homosexuals are being depicted as Russia’s New Jews, the demonized cultural “other” scapegoated for the ancient frosty nation’s myriad modern dysfunctions. The staged outrage has included the predictable kiss-ins and vodka-dumping parties and counterfactual petitions on change.org and a polemical, Godwin’s Law-addled screed in The New York Times from the Vaseline-smeared lips of homo gasbag Harvey Fierstein.
6. In Defense of Women with Bad Teeth
A dozen years ago I spent a long, torturous night with a redheaded heifer who had big taters and a tiny brain. This, mind you, was a REAL woman…
I’ve had other dental fetishes such as an affinity for bucktoothed women with that cute little bunny-rabbit overbite which pushes out their lips and makes it look as if they’ve been sucking cock all their lives.
7. Spaying the Queen’s English
Their handy how-to manual accepts the term “gendered” as a verb, as if sexual dimorphism is a diaphanous social construct and one actually has to inject gender into the language, yet it frowns upon “transgendered” in favor of “transgender,” as if to imply that these self-mutilating freaks were born that way.