02 Sep 2009, Posted by jay rusovich , 0 Comments

What It Takes…

…and why it’s never fair or equal. She pays her price. he pays his.

Live Dolls aren’t just 125 pounds of rubber.

They’re 5 feet 6 inches of perfectly proportioned rubber.

If they were 4’8” at this weight, they would be fat. But they’re not fat, which is one reason you can expect to pay seven thousand dollars for a typical blonde.

And when she cracks or discolors, you can buy another one. You can keep the same head if you happen to like her personality, for example. They’ll just re-attach it to a new body so you can string out the fantasy forever, which is about as long as most men expect them to last.

Back in the other reality, just step into the hearts of most older women and you’ll witness romantic constructs collapsing like decks of cards in a Blitzkrieg. This is because they can’t keep up no matter what they do. This doesn’t stop them from trying, however. And thank God, because a few of us still opt for something with a heartbeat, no matter how bad the conversation.

When it gets down to it, women over a certain age understand that men want a trophy in exchange for their efforts. They want a trophy, period, but they expect to have one commensurate with their level of financial achievement.

So if their efforts pay big dividends, the wife better be able to do more than cook.

Men also know that most women would drop their law practices in a heartbeat for the right man. Hell, I know one woman who moved to El Paso from Boca Raton. Of course, you’d be hard-pressed to find a man willing to even move down the street. This is because it’s her job to move, not his.

And by the way, randomly pick any attractive female attorney in her mid-thirties and I promise you she wants nothing to do with law. In fact, she hates law. She hates lawyers. And now she hates herself. Why? Because she wants a man in her life no matter what the hell she tells you. He may still prefer the rubber thing, but she wants a living man, and will do what’s necessary to get one.

Women must exert enormous energy maintaining their appearances, which they do for men.  This is one of those unspoken tenets that never seem to apply in the reverse…because he has other things top worry about that have nothing whatsoever to do with make-up, but everything whatsoever to do with paying for it.

Understand this: men value beauty above all else and WOMEN KNOW IT.

So it’s a power struggle: Money versus Beauty.

The problem here is that the struggle is not unlike gambling in Vegas. The house will eventually win. However, if you started out with a law degree you may be able to negotiate a golden parachute once the beauty fades.

Otherwise, I suggest you invest in realdolls.com and live off the interest.

27 Aug 2009, Posted by jay rusovich , 2 Comments

Most Self-Help Books Lead Women to Marriage. Here’s an Alternative…

If you live in rock and roll, as I do, you see the reality of sex, of male lust and women being aroused by male lust. It attracts women. It doesn’t repel them. Camille Paglia

If you believe in Camille Paglia’s vision of life on earth, make sure you’re young enough  – or famous enough – to pull it off. Jay Rusovich

………………….

When marriage is the end game, men can smell it.

And that’s a problem because the only time that particular scent is acceptable is when a woman is in her early to mid twenties and both genders share it.

After that, it comes across like asteroids being torn apart by the earth’s atmosphere. And the result is that you’re summarily dismissed as relationship material, and then have to suffer through the litany of lies and machinations designed to get you into bed. Strippers know all about this, which is why they often choose women and cocaine.

Affluent older men – and the posers who [poorly] emulate them [without realizing it] – most often frequent upscale places, like restaurant bars, to meet women with overdue rent, unmanagable Mercedes Benz payments, IRS penalties, piles of traffic violations and a desire for new handbags.

But they don’t respect you. They may respect your blowjobs, but not you the person, because there is no person. There is only the asteroid I mentioned in the third paragraph. They see you in line with all the other flotsam vying for a piece of the pie, like pilot fish in armed to the teeth with a survival ethic that guides them through the danger and uncertainty of the food chain.

You’re in a kill zone, and the porous veneer you drag around with you is the only thing that separates you from the scavengers on the sidelines appraising you as you showcase your wares in deep water.

“She fucked Mike and his two Lebanese friends [at the same time]. Frank gave her a house to keep her mouth shut about his cocaine habit. That guy over there took her to Spain and fucked her in front of six valets at a Barcelona hotel. She stole $2500 and an American Express Platinum card from the owner of a car dealership before he had her arrested for grand larceny. Nobody knows anything about her other than her taste for expensive champagne, which she never pays for for some reason…etc.”

Ya see, girls, you’re nothing more than who you appear to be in a certain context. If I swim in the open ocean I am part of another food chain by default. We are what we do, unless you’re writing a book or something and need some fresh dialog from people you’re writing about, but don’t personally know.

You might want to explain this before someone offers you a drink, because nothing’s free, including your reputation, which the free Absolut Citron serves to demolish, particularly if you accept two from the same stranger in a suit with the shimmer of a falling star.

So buy your own god-damned drinks. If you can’t afford them, go somewhere else. Otherwise you can go back top my comment about the open ocean, which is where you’re stuck.

So with the title of this article in mind, the first line item on your must-have list should be something beyond marriage and money. Like art, for example. Or reading, writing, mountain climbing, travelling, music. It doesn’t matter what it is as long as it exists, and you’re committed to it, with or without a man. Eventually you’ll be discovered and you won’t feel as though your time has been wasted because you’ve been living true to yourself and the things that mean something to you beyond finding your “soul mate.”

I think people in yoga still use that metaphor, along with others, like “path” and “channeling,” but don’t ask me to explain them. I only know why they use them, which I’ve just explained.

This is an aside, but yoga classes are filled with crazy beautiful women just like you. It’s the 21st century sanctuary for the spiritually disenfranchised. Think of it as playing in a famous rock band like ACDC and it’ll have the same effect. It separates you from the herd, and by virtue of your association with it, it inspires others to assign fascinating attributes to you that may or may not exist.

But that’s the point. To inspire. Never let them nail you down to anything because if they can get away with it they will.

Any street tramp can attend a yoga class and immediately acquire status that money can’t buy.

Something similar happens when you attend a performance art event. That’s why so many beautiful older women do it. The game has burned the life out of their hearts and this is where they go to rediscover themselves.

They don’t have to succumb to the indignities of running around with arms dealers at restaurant-cum-nightclubs with the rest of the Yemenis, ex-cons and perpetrators of moral crime.

Dear God, please tell me where to reach. Tell me where to rest my heart out here in the flurry of celestial shrapnel. I’m dying. This is when it’s darkest, when eyes become like quasars slicing everything to ribbons and exposing the truths about a life that has no purpose, no meaning and no clarity beyond what one can touch and feel and taste.

Pardon the digression.

Go to a performance art event. Go to the symphony. The ballet. Some edgy, alternative bar downtown frequented by people who don’t remind you of the desperation of the times. You’re better off walking the hallways of a museum alone than standing in line to use the restroom at a steakhouse full of phantoms from your worst nightmares.

Unfortunately, though, many affluent men go where the action is because they harvest the desperation without much ado after a long week of travel…usually back and forth to Aspen where they met their last housekeeper girlfriend with the “Harvard MBA” and no visible means of support.

The state of men is appalling.

So as I initially stated, don’t make marriage the end game.

He can feel it the moment you’ve nailed your second cocktail in under a minute. Of course, he may construe it as a clear signal that he’s getting laid, but either way you’re screwed.

Keep him off balance.

Challenge him without being a complete bitch about it.

Don’t play stupid.

Don’t defer to him by default.

Stand up for what you believe. And be who you are, which should have nothing whatsoever to do with him.

He’ll figure it out eventually, anyway.

Be in the moment.

Enjoy one date in a capsule, as though nothing exists outside of that tiny space in time.

Don’t get ahead of yourself – or ahead of him – as the case may be, because he may be exactly where you left him before wandering off into your altered reality.

So do not fantasize a lifetime with someone you don’t know, claro?

Don’t obliterate your dreams before you have a shot at them.

Don’t compromise yourself. Even if he ends up running off with someone easier, he will remember you and chances are he’ll come running back. It’s not all decided in a single night. He’s also crying out for redemption from the drugs that continue to kill him.

Men don’t like dependent women who have no life outside of theirs. The ones who do usually end up in the crime reports.

If any of this makes any sense to you, I’ve done my job. If not, don’t blame me for the staggering cost of your therapy.

23 Aug 2009, Posted by jay rusovich , 0 Comments

“We’re All Objects!”

Again, I’m in the cross hairs of another discussion over the objectification of women. Why, I don’t know. It all seems so transparent to me.

Nonetheless, from a man’s perspective, women are objects. From a woman’s perspective, women are objects. They just use different metaphors.

Most men would take a clinical psychopath with a perfect round ass over a well-adjusted Ph.D. without one.

Women know this. They hate it, but they know it.

Which is why they spend so much time and money on illusion. The food chain isn’t cheap.

For women who don’t like the rules of engagement, they can take the corporate route, work 10-hour days, earn lots of money and acquire a “house husband.” There are a lot of them out there.

If not, the following rules apply:

1] A woman’s job is to maintain her physical beauty at all costs, because that’s the bait. Whatever else you bring to the table helps perpetuate its survival, like personality, for example, which he will eventually notice.

2] A man’s job is to provide financial security. If he fails in this effort, he has failed as a man. Women of beauty deserve more by virtue of their physical beauty and should expect nothing less. However, she must also hone the art of perpetual seduction because he’ll need the fuel, believe me.

Men don’t walk around in high-heels and lipstick unless they’re getting paid for it. Women do. That’s what men mean when they talk about women in the context of objects. To them, you are. All they have to do is notice the difference between you and the men in your arms to determine with absolute clarity that men are invisible by comparison. And the ones who aren’t are either gay or womanizers. There are select few who don’t fall into either category, but good luck finding them.

With this in mind, here are a few questions women find themselves pondering [hopefully, to themselves]:

How do I want him to perceive me?

On a scale of 1 to 10, where do “object” and “person” fall?

How can I find a balance? A composite sketch?

How far can I push the object without losing the rest of me?

How much can I withhold and still hang on?

It’s all my choice, really. But in a way it isn’t, because there really isn’t any choice.

“I have to be what he wants me to be or he’ll find someone who will. I have to fight for his attention through specific manner and dress, because no matter how much he loves me, he loves the object just as much.”

So why do we tolerate the objectification? Why don’t we objectify in return? Do we like being perceived as objects of beauty? Is this enough to justify the emotional and financial cost?

Men want us to be beautiful.

This is our job.

Theirs is to be successful and to provide security.

Sure, I’d prefer that hot guy across the room with the beautifully tailored Armani slacks and white Prada dress shirt. His butt is tight and muscular. His stomach, flat. And his shoulders, broad.

That’s what I want.

But what he will want in return is what bothers me. I will have to be his reflection…and then stay that way after children — whether he does or not – because that’s my role.

Object first, then mother, then wife.

Men expect everything from us because we have been taught to expect everything of ourselves.

Do I even like being a woman? Is it more a crucible than anything else?

In the end, is all the attention I work so hard for really worth it?

Would I prefer to be a man?

Not on your life.

06 Aug 2009, Posted by jay rusovich , 1 Comments

The Blessings of Feminism

Here at ground zero of jayrusovichlive.com we talk about things: life, therapy, drug addiction; there’s quite a bit of analysis that goes on. The cost/benefit analysis with regard to, say, a hooker versus a stripper, or a wife versus a hooker, or whether or not it’s just better to get a “Fleshlight” and call it day.

I’ve heard this device will be available on Amazon soon, so be on the look out for it. It serves its purpose and does so in disguise, which makes it a prime candidate for the JRL stamp of approval…but I digress.

Today my office counterpart, Yvonne, was taking a walk in Memorial Park with a friend, and like all you women, they were discussing men. Women are ALWAYS discussing men. We’re fascinating creatures, after all. As predictable as we are obnoxious.

So the girls are chatting away about a man’s concept of the future, and how it plays into whether or not women should date them. My personal opinion is that she just needs to put on some muscle, keep her regular appointments at the Steven Merrill Salon, and learn the fine art of submission.

I also think I may be threatening my own existence and will soon be forced into hiding when she reads this. Of course, I’m going to post it anyway, if, for no other reason, than self- preservation has become an abstraction…thanks to my arrested development, which has rendered me immortal.

Yvonne’s stance is that you can ask a man a few specific questions and get a pretty picture of how he sees his life. If that picture looks relationship-friendly then maybe he’s worth dating, or at least considering in the context of commitment.

However, if the guy can’t come up with anything, you really have to consider the possibility that he doesn’t really want anything more than a piece of ass, which he’ll never admit anyway.

Crass, yes. Male, yes. Relationship-friendly, no.

Maybe you’re different. You could be the one who changes his mind and helps him see there is life beyond the kill-zone; that blessed gift to men underwritten by feminism. I’m a pro-feminist, by the way. Let me grab my JRL approval stamp and smack the great ass of feminism. But again, I digress.

Anyway, while Yvonne was doing her cardio, which is her obligation to men if she wants men in her life, a woman chimed in, “You know it doesn’t change, no matter how old they get.”

Yvonne and her friend turned to see a slender, older woman making her way around the 3-mile track.

“Even when they’re 50 they act the same way. You have to know where you stand with men. If they can’t come up with a decent vision of the future that resembles something you’re interested in, take them at their word – because that is their word [as opposed to women, where there might also be several other words they withhold for various reasons], and walk.”

There’s a reason you don’t have a minimum wage job, honey.”

16 Jul 2009, Posted by jay rusovich , 2 Comments

Yoga versus Therapy

In therapy you pay a trained Psychologist or M.D. to help alleviate psychological problems.

In yoga, you side-step the human condition altogether by tapping into the energy of the universe.

I dunno. It kind of sells itself…

Yoga is feminism’s answer to patriarchy.

If you disagree with me on this, you’re wrong. Not wrong because you have an opposing view, but wrong because your position on the issue is wrong. There’s a difference.

This is one reason so many drop-dead gorgeous women are packing yoga classes from coast to coast…and why certain male yoga instructors, including the revered yogi master – often from places like Cleveland – have improbable liaisons with women half their age and twice their I.Q.

There’s an angle for everything.

These guys offer an “enlightened” alternative to the baboons most women encounter in bars and nightclubs.

The popularity of yoga is really just a reaction to a food chain that appraises women at 35 the same way it did when they were 17.

Of course, at 17 they didn’t have a problem with it because there wasn’t much to criticize.

So it’s a kind of sanctuary for the disaffected.

In therapy you pay a trained Psychologist or M.D. to help alleviate psychological problems.

In yoga, you side-step the human condition altogether by joining forces with the universe; something that isn’t taught in medical school for some reason.

Yoga culture empowers women to express their sexuality under the pretext of spiritual awakening. They use the term, “awakening,” a lot because it sounds better than “fucking” in the context of higher human consciousness.

It’s also a way to buffer oneself from what is perceived to be constant, low-level patriarchal abuse.

Think packs of enlightened, confident, tuned in, empowered, intelligent and aware women with attitude and you get the sense that you’re in the middle of a war zone.

Yoga studios are places where women can express resentment without actually articulating it. These studios are often like psychological boot camps not unlike what one sees in groups like al-Qaida.

When a woman tells a man that she’s involved in “yoga,” the following message is conveyed:

“I’m enlightened, so don’t even think about fucking with me. I’m sexually open because that’s my right, but I only sleep with men who are on board with my message. I am smart, evolved, alert. I know all about shit you can’t even imagine. Fuck off if you dare walk in this class and stare at my ass just because I happen to be wearing paper-thin Lycra from Lululemon. I’m here to escape men like you. I’m here to escape judgment, superficiality, patriarchy. Of course, I do appreciate the attention, which I’ll deny under oath.”

The men who do join these classes accept the fact that they are perceived as emasculated members of an otherwise primitive gender afforded a second chance because of their efforts at maintaining cognition in the midst of what appears to be an all-out orgy.

With this in mind, I’m not sure which gender is the best adapted.

01 Jul 2009, Posted by jay rusovich , 0 Comments

Burger King versus Radical Feminism [guess who's winning?]

1] Radical feminism considers the male controlled capitalist hierarchy, which it describes as sexist, as the defining feature of women’s oppression [one reason women report problems achieving orgasm without a "Jackrabbit"].

2] Radical feminists believe that women can free themselves only when they have done away with what they consider an inherently oppressive and dominating patriarchal system [but they'll feign complete ignorance in exchange for money].

3] Radical feminists feel that there is a male-based authority and power structure and that it is responsible for oppression and inequality, and that as long as the system and its values are in place, society will not be able to be reformed in any significant way [just ask Chanel, Gucci, Prada and La Perla].

4] Some radical feminists see no alternatives other than the total uprooting and reconstruction of society in order to achieve their goals [the last time one of these women got a date was somewhere back in the 12th century - during some kind of plague - and that had more to do with bedside manner in exchange for a goat].

Echols, Alice (1989). Daring to be bad: radical feminism in America, 1967-1975 [Ms. Echols’ real name was George Tannenbaum. He was America’s first male-to-female transsexual, and the first case of transsexual discrimination  in the workplace after being fired from a Pittsburg steel mill for showing up in fishnets. The man who fired her was also fired after being spotted with her at a local bar.

Burger King has sponsorships with the National Football League and Nascar and tie-ins with “The Simpsons Movie.” It even came up with an Xbox game that sold more than 3.2 million copies last year.

“They hit a core demographic group — 18-to-24 males — and give them what they want,” said Bob Goldin, an executive vice president of Technomic, a food industry research and consulting firm.

Men are striking back with a vengeance – and I’m not talking about my generation – though there is some argument that we Baby-Boomers had something to do with it.

The way I see it, when you combine sexual and reproductive freedom with education and financial independence you end up with a civilization in its final hours.

I don’t mean this in any negative way, of course, but one can’t argue that it leads to fewer marriages, fewer children, and fewer arguments in favor of human perpetuity beyond one’s self.

Some consider this narcissistic, while others couch it as simple entitlement in the face of planetary extinction, without realizing their saying exactly the same thing.

Anyway, this trend has led to the creation of popular shows like “Life After People,” which boats a large following of those interested in what the neighborhood’s going to look like in 50 years…literally, 50 years.

This is something else they feel entitled to in spite of the fact that they’ll be the last human beings to see it.

In the end, I get really sick of these feminist arguments.

So what if the man comes home to an indentured servant who rubs his back, hands him a gin and tonic and generally worships him for paying the bills?

And so what if she also has to keep her mouth shut about everything else, like feelings, for example, which lighten the load for her, but make it a lot heavier for him?

And who cares if it takes a chain like Burger King to exploit the obvious in order to turn a profit? If it weren’t the truth, there would be no profit, which is bad news for women who will do whatever it takes to keep the house in Aspen, hence the ads.

09 May 2009, Posted by jay rusovich , 0 Comments

The Rise of Women Who Think and Act like Men

[The woman in the above photograph is a model and not the actual subject of this discussion]

A close associate of mine, Dr. Anton Zegoyavich, has been kind enough tp share with me the following interview he recently conducted with a woman who claims to be a female fitness model, martial artist and accountant.  The interview covers such topics as: the merits of porn star sex, female objectivity and orgasm- on- demand.

Note: It shouldn’t surprise anyone that an unprecedented number of women have begun taking matters into their own hands where sex and everything else is concerned.

If such women happen to be over a “certain age” and can’t find the man they think they deserve; or they’re frustrated with the sexual feeding frenzy that’s become a perennial harvest for men; or angry about the backlash of feminism that’s reduced them to objects many of them help perpetuate; or have sexual addiction problems of their own, and conveniently use their frustration with men as a scapegoat for their behavior, then this begins to make sense.

Dr. Anton Zegoyavich [taken shortly after injecting himself with the female aging gene. He is 63 years old].

Dr Z:

Well, April, you look very nice…if that is, in fact, your name.

April:

My name is April. What’s your point?

Dr.Z:

Is it your first name?

April:

Does it sound like my last name?

Dr. Z:

Is it your first given name, or did you change it for some reason?

April:

Why would I change my name?

Dr Z:

Okay, let’s move on shall we. I already have more insight here than you might imagine. I warn you, I am quite alert.

April:

Look, I have a tanning appointment in 30 minutes, and you owe me two-hundred and fifty for my time, so let’s get this over with.

Dr Z:

The funds will be made available to you at the conclusion of our discussion. The tanning appointment is of no surprise to me, I assure you.

April:

What’s that supposed to mean?

Dr Z:

Let us begin, shall we? You strike me as quite aggressive, sexually.

April:

Excuse me?

Dr. Z:

I am way ahead of you, I’m afraid. Don’t be alarmed. My mind is quite active, and I will admit to you that it can be quite disconcerting to those who are accustomed to average discourse.

April:

Are you calling me an idiot you miserable little gimp?!? You look like something from outer space. I want my money! This discussion is over.

Dr. Z:

I believe you are in possession of some hormonal abnormality, or that you have injected your body with testosterone. You have morphed into something quite unusual.

April:

I haven’t injected anything into my body! Maybe you should take a look at what you injected into yours! “Unusual’ would be a nice way of describing it.

Dr. Z:

My research is of no concern of yours. I believe there is some gender identity conflict here.

April:

You’re like some creature out of a cartoon! I have a problem with what society thinks women should think and act like. That’s why you’re so confused.

Dr. Z:

Be careful. I can be quite a tiger when I am challenged.

April:

I’m shaking. I think you see what you want to see, Dr. Zegoyavich. And I think that women like me intimidate you, which is why you’re willing to pay for our time. Look at me! I’m a powerful woman. I am physically and emotionally solid. Financially secure. Independent. I have options. Sometimes I choose to exercise them. If I want an anonymous sexual liaison, for example, I have one. And until I’m too old to find lovers I enjoy, I will continue to pursue and manipulate men to get my needs met. They’re no different. They make the same assumptions you do about women. But in my case you’re both wrong. So as long as I don’t take them seriously I can use them at will. It’s only when I expect them to be something they’re not that I get into trouble. So I stay detached. My parents walked out of my life when I was six. I’m told I have a sister somewhere, but that’s all I know. So don’t sit there and suggest I don’t know anything about life, or that I should feel somehow shameful about asserting my independence.

Dr. Z:

Yes, well, it is obvious to me that you use your unresolved abandonment issue as an excuse to pursue what appears to be an advanced case of sexual addiction, which of course masks your childhood wounds. All men are set up to fail. The slightest deviation from a very exacting set of boundaries you impose on them is an indicator of imminent abandonment. This is your signal to replace them. So by the end of a given year you’ve had hundreds of lovers. This is quite fascinating. You are not unlike a wild animal, I’m afraid, and your tremendous physicality is a clear indication of a creature in defense mode, you see.

April:

Give me my fucking money before I squeeze your head off!

Dr. Z:

You and others like you are a terrible menace to us all, I assure you! Your funds are on the table next to the front door. Take them and go back into the world and feed. One day men will learn a very sad truth about what society has spawned.

April:

Men already know what society has spawned, which is why women like me exist in the first place. We were told we could have everything without sacrificing anything…and it was bullshit. Men would never dream of sacrificing so much; bearing children, cooking, cleaning, attending to the emotional needs of men as though they were our own adolescent children. Now we eat from the same plate.

Dr. Z:

You are a sociopath, Ms. April, or whatever your name is. This is what you are all becoming.

April:

What we are all becoming, Dr. Zegoyavich, or whatever your name is…

[end]