My anti-equalitarianism often causes me to be accused of hating women, an accusation which those who know me personally tend to regard as ludicrous. It must be admitted, though, that there is a certain group of women that I despise with a deep and abiding contempt, the Useless Wealthy Women:
Jon Stokes, an organisational psychologist, has noticed a disconnect between hard-working, successful men and their bored wives. “From the outside, there seems to be no sense of purpose to a wealthy wife’s life, no reason to get out of bed. If they have successfully delegated their job to nannies, housekeepers and tutors, they have organised themselves out of their own existence,” he says. In the absence of any real stress, Merc Mothers resort to manufacturing it.
If you happen to be of a social class where you don’t encounter these women, consider yourself fortunate indeed. A more poisonous, parasitic, and problem-causing group of human beings on the planet does not exist. On more than one occasion when writing Wrath, I found a group of these incredible creatures sitting at the next table, complaining for literally HOURS about how terrible their lives were, how horribly busy they were and how useless and unappreciative their husbands – who were, of course, off at work funding all this non-activity – also happened to be. I’m about as far from a Communist revolutionary as can be, but I have to admit, had the Ghost of Che Guevara appeared at that moment, lined them up against the wall, handed me an AK-47 and demanded that I blow them away in the name of the Revolution, I would have done so in the complete certainty that I was doing all humanity a great service indeed.
To be honest, I tend to dislike most people prone to boredom, male and female alike. I wish there were 10 more hours in the day to do all the things that I’d like to do, and 10 more lives to investigate all the various opportunity costs I paid along the way. Read a book. Learn your culture. Just shut up and do something.