The only thing that women excel at are childrearing and giving blowjobs.
What do incels excel in? Certainly not counting…
they kill their infant children at rates of five times as much as men, and that's not counting abortions.
Is this actually true? If so, I can see several explanations that seem far more plausible than “all women are monsters”, e.g. traditionally spending more time with their children (thus giving them more opportunity for murder and more time to develop hatred) abd that fathers can run away or be thrown out before the child is born while the mother obviously can’t.
it's never been a sacred bond. there's so little commendable about women, so a "sacred bond" between mother and child had to be invented to pretend that women are capable of any kind of love at all.
Invented by whom?
since it was so obvious women can't love men, it was decided arbitrarily that they must love their own children (otherwise we'd have to admit that women are incapable of love). this is not the case.
mothers despise their ugly children. think back on how your mother treated you and if that was a relationship of love or hate. they are very vain and hate seeing their own ugly genes as a constant mirror before them. only good-looking men believe in maternal love. and no hapa has good memories of his noodle mother, who despises her son for not being fully white. (i'm not a hapa)
In the Dark Time, in my many months in the hospital, my mother was at my side every day safe one, staying for many long hours. During the one hundred and ten days I was in intensive care, she was on medical leave due to her worry over me, and even after that, she continued to come, continuing from work (she works part-time in Harburg, a part of Hamburg that was its own town on our side of the Elbe until it was absorbed during the Third Reich and which you had to go through to get to Hamburg proper, where my hospital is). Even when I progressed to rehab, in a town about as far upstream from Hamburg as ours is downstream, she continued to come to me three times a week. She read books to me - initially because my hands were too shaky and my concentration to weak to read myself, later because it had become a tradition - and we went through over twenty of them. Even after I returned home, for so long, she had to take care of that accursed stoma that went off so often for half a year. When I was in the hospital this autumn to have a net inserted into my abdomen to patch my tattered abdominal wall and she was unable to visit me due to Covid, she felt horrible.
In my darkest days, even in the times when I was so heavily sedated that I perceived reality only through the lense of nightmares of immobility and ennui, it was the knowledge that, every day, my mother would come at twelve o’clock that was the one good thing that kept me strong.
More than once, my mother has insisted that what she did was not extraordinary, it was what any parent would have done in this situation, were they so fortunate to be able to do so.
Do not tell me that no mother loves her unattractive son.
