> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://herr-klamm.ghost.io/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Working Preamble - URL: https://herr-klamm.ghost.io/working-preamble/ - Published: 2026-08-26T09:48:28.000Z - Updated: 2026-08-26T10:23:58.000Z - Author: Stephen Bender In Twlight of the Idols, Nietzsche wrote: 'Women are considered profound. Why? Because one never fathoms their depths. Women aren't even shallow'. I read this in college and rejected it out of hand. Because I didn't understand it. It's not a rebuke. Of women. It is a rebuke of men, who are too foolish to see through masks, read signs or play around, in the right way. I've befriended women since high school. Kept doing it for the rest of my life up until this past weekend in Steubenville, OH, about which more later. I think I'll write some sort of a pamphlet, something somewhat longer form, on women. It will be fair, of course, but unsparing, too. In this world, my contempt has been reserved more for men. I've listened to their secrets, too. And they are as follows: suckin' and fuckin' and some art thrown in there here and there for window dressing. That accounts for most of them. Sure, the smarter ones are more sub rosa about it. When you get right down to it, they are prisoners of their physiology, which women are too, perhaps even more so. I wouldn't know. And don't particularly care to find out, either. Some things are better left undisturbed, and our knowledge and insight is so paltry that it would amount to a fool's errand anyway. Now, most people are cut out for domestic life, eventually. The frontal lobe forms around 25, while the urges emerge 10 years earlier. That's the trick that Lucifer, or whoever, played on these 95% chimpanzees he oversees in his characteristic benevolence. I'm aware of what appear to be happy marriages, or ones that haven't ended anyway. It's a work in progress, I guess. Sounds exhausting to me. But, to finish it up. This is a working preamble after all, and it will switch up a dozen ways til Sunday, so whatevers. Women are just animals as we are, but they've been forced by rape and molestation to be more superficially clever than men. They sure do like participating in pornography. Nowadays, of course, they're also taking over academia and the professions and I cheer them on. I've long held that 4,000 years of ruthless matriarchy is what the males have coming. You know, to settle the score. The problem is, the males – the dummies among them, the overwhelming majority – are resentful of this slo-mo role reversal. You can understand it. I laugh at it. 'I'm a traditionalist' a big farmer out by Merced told me once, while I was on one of my jaunts in 2014\. I think he was basically a literal Nazi and had his wife under his thumb. He owned a bookstore, for fun. He was an intellectual, after a fashion. We played poker and smoked cigarettes with his cronies. He and his kind are not taking this cross-dressing gender stuff lying down. They'll fight to the death to stop it. And there are tens of millions of guys like that in this country. In the small towns and hollers of this land of the free and home of the brave. I don't think the democratic institutions of this country are up for grabs anymore. Trump shit the bed and he's a lame duck now. But the forces he unleashed are out and about and looking for someone to blame. And if I know reactionaries – and I do – they will never ever look in the mirror. They are the problem, but they're too weak to admit it. If a right winger admits one mistake, the daisy chain to Occam's razor would break them. They're weak, they just can't admit it to themselves. They're going to find the usual suspects. As for women, well they can get pretty nuts. I've seen it more often than I care to admit. I was in a rental car on my way to Reno to get married to a girly girl in the Spring of 2014\. We didn't even get out of the city before she screamed at me: "who the fuck are you to marry me? I don't even want to be your girlfriend!" I ran out of that running car at a red light in Soma. Let the crazy credentialed bitch return it. It was her idea to go to Reno, don'tcha know. She pulled some kind of rant like this every time I saw her, which was probably seven or eight times in 3 weeks. Until I dumped her with a glare and an even 'a Dios!' Spare me the notion that I haven't found 'the right one'? I tried four flavors of American white women. First and second mistakes right there. 2 book-smart but not smart-smart ones. One I was meant to save and a pretty younger one. It's not even their faults, of course. It's my fault. Was ambivalent about the whole rigamarole all my life and they can smell that from a mile away. It's how you get them in the first place, and they'll never let you forget it. Rise above it, sure. I've forgiven them, that's why you're reading this. You know what the past is, and history too, for that matter. Just a bunch of stupid stuff that happened. It means nothing, because you do it to yourself. That's why it really hurt. Indeed, to bring it around, what happens in love truly is beyond good and evil... PS: Too bad about Dolly Parton. She was one of the very best. Funny story. Visited Dollywood on the way out to California with an old pal. It was closed, alas. Early September, I think they were retooling it. The gift shop was open, anyway. There were to fat gay guys in there quizzing the staff about when the newest Dolly doll was coming out. 'When y'all gonna have that new doll come out'. Had never encountered redneck gays before. Who'da thunk it?