Upsetting Day: The Predatory Female

Now that’s an opener. The system, faith, or band you choose is a perfect personality test. I’ve said this before, but now I mean it: things are looking up.

Oh man.

Divorced had a good run as a comedy adjective. But we all age, and run out of motels to shield us from court orders. I can’t use divorced to mock anyone else after reading The Predatory Female. Rev. Lawrence Shannon is the most divorced man. He is Adam cursing Eve.

The circle’s complete. We’ve met the Angrily Unfucked in their larval and pupal stages. Shannon is a beautiful, divorced butterfly. Every word leaks venom. He sprints past grim into delightful, exploring new depths of divorce.

I like hyperbole, but Shannon brought up Eden first. And early. He knows the garden’s real monster:

An elite dramatist. You can feel his heart attacks on the page, as if he described civil war instead of cheaping out on a lawyer. The Predatory Female outlines how our injustice system tortures humble batterers. It’s still on sale if you need a wedding gift for an enemy.

Forget the entire manosphere. Those children plagiarize each other like Quora bots. Lawrence’s 1992 anger is novel and pure, like a red lantern fueled by alimony. Like summoning Shenron to give your ex crabs. Like writing a 182-page book about how divorced you are.

Shannon knows he’s not for everyone. Or most people. Or me.

Shannon shouldn’t worry about Falwell reading a second book. Or selling enough to attract advocacy groups. I assumed, during my first run (I reread these until my brain bleeds) that this was the Rosetta Stone of Sahara dick. Nope. This is a blip. A quarter-Tate. Just obscure enough for him to move past writing it, which I’ll call a happy ending.

But I’m iffy on what a predatory female is. Do they have cloaking? Will they ignore my fortune if I’m unarmed?

I need answers. Let’s hit the introduction. What’s a predatory female?

Okay. What’s a predatory female?

Sounds big. What’s a predatory female?

I’ve seen those stories! Is predatory female slang for quark-dick? Because that’s confusing as all hell. English teachers call openings like this evidence.

I’m clearly lost. Could you explain slowly, like I’m in Mötley Crüe? An answer could cut The Dirt down to eight pages. I can’t fear something without understanding it. What’s a predatory female?

Lives, property, sanity…it’s his ex-wife.

All ex-wives. Even yours, from the future. Ms. Ex-Lawrence is legion. The abyss beneath Atlantic City Hall. She has twice the health of the Orphan of Kos and a smaller parry window. You know, like the fucking ape in Sekiro. Still. In 2024. In a lifetime of FromSoft car battery torture, I’ve never come closer to a heart attack. Controllers break twice.

Sorry. Lawrence and I both have our demons. Hopefully Mary Shelley’s ghost spares me, but I’ll take a double kill.

The bulk (all) of the book (screed) is question-answer segments (screaming at the motel mirror). Including a point that should open the book:

That’s brilliant. A divorce manual can’t be wrong if it triggers the divorce. The Predatory Woman doesn’t take love’s death for granted. The book makes the bewildered, heartbroken harridan real. Not quite as effective as “How to Fistfight a Cop,” but love’s complicated.

Let’s get some detail on the predatory female. I’d shoot for an interview, but the name’s very fake. And she might be missing.

That seems…specific. Again, like we’re talking about one person. I’m fine with memoir, but stapling it to self-help is broad industry habit. And industry habits suck. Publishing lives off of fumes and spite. Send help.

A daytime tv habit. This feels really locked into one woman, who now owns Shannon’s Charger. I’m here to hate a demo, not Cheryl Higgins of Silver Springs, Maryland. Could I get some broad strokes paranoia? A pink-and-blue QAnon?

Much better. Heavier on chemtrails than expected, but at least we’ve left Cheryl’s bushes. If Wonder Woman taught me anything, matriarchal tyranny arcs are decent filler. Let’s just avoid bees.

Shannon rides this riff for a while. Engines of the matriarchal system include gynecologists, all women, the Supreme Court, all men, the lower courts, lawyers, and more. We don’t hit bailiffs or court stenographers, but I think we know who signs their checks between shoplifts.

As usual, the enemy is invincible and useless.

Looks like Cheryl was a lot to handle, when she wasn’t tripping on flat ground. Shannon was too superior to stand a chance.

Back to this? Girlhate technology’s come a long way. Shannon’s stuck grasping at Cheryl’s insistence on staying alive. If half the population worshipped doctors, Philip Morris would be a gym chain. Also, less plague and all that.

The targeted flavor’s back. “The Predatory Female is always late to Tuna Night. You both thought the tuna-mascot t-shirts and placemats would be funny, and it was her idea. Why would she be late? Who is she fucking? Why is this so hard? When does the pain stop? Did all these dolphins die for nothing?”

What’s Cheryl’s problem? Lawrence doesn’t know, but he has more thoughts on Eve. Once again, Genesis follows me like the sin gene. Eden is like family court perjury: unavoidable.

Don’t fixate on the Eve fixation. The Rev. title is all schtick: Shannon hates churches. A lot. Enough to read a Ludy book for kicks. Case in point:

He also hates questions. The answer here’s built-in, but here’s the longform version:

Staying balanced gets tough. Modern media warps fun quirks into cackling madness. Thank Rev. Shannon for reminding me delusions thrive outside of mass.

Though I’m starting to worry about his finances. I know Lawrence deserves the penury of an unarmed civilian, but most of what we deserve is cruel and unusual. I get the impression his standard of living’s between a stray cat and adjunct. He’s not foreign enough for me to ignore that kind of suffering.

Are you okay, Shannon?

That’s not a question.

Picky, I know. But Lawrence has a few gripes with the law. And avoidable dickups like this turn your car into her car. Judges are people. Annoyable, literate people.

Impressive. I’m a vendetta historian and can’t imagine being this mad. In fact, cards on the table: I had a knife-fight divorce and can’t imagine being this mad. Why not slow down, stop flailing, and measure your next move. That’s how you beat the ape, isn’t it?

Shannon, I wanted to riff on a fun breakup manual. You know, let everyone relax while the oceans boil. How much of your shit do you have? Colloquially or literally?

Alright, our boy’s doing fine. We’ll skip the wellness check.

To be clear: I get the joke. Jokes have perspectives. Some of mine say “I’m two emails away from fistfighting a dean.” That’s troubling. Some of Lawrence’s say “You’ll never find all the pieces of Cheryl.” This could be a jokebook for weekend dads, instead of a manifesto for the Singles Mixer Slasher.

At least there’s a little romance. A-Frames on low have an audience. Not an everyday diversion—even your biceps need half the week off. But a weekly stretch sounds manageable.

If you’re healthy, you stopped questioning these books years ago. If you’re like me, you wonder why these questions answer themselves. It’s like Shannon doesn’t understand leading questions, or when they play poorly.

You can tint the world through the gender war. But the tradition of burying your money and raising the black flag is above that. Plenty of adventurers flee the IRS for love, with their consenting families.

This section ends with some inspiring self-congratulation. We’re skipping it. I need to preserve every word of this:

I’d love to cut back on “yeah right” jokes. I shrug off the other questions as direct address or mental illness. But you can’t write a full “Dear Penthouse” scene without getting your lashes. Shannon never got this letter, which also never happened. It combines the realism of Underworld with the introspection of Underworld.

From here, The Predatory Female switches to practical notes. Enjoy a few thoroughly cherry picked highlights:

Look out for car nicknames. The day she whispers “Mr. Zoom,” change the locks. You don’t have a wife, you have a memory. And tattoos are tree rings for infidelity.

Then there’s a fake dictionary. I leaned in.

Shannon lives in a state of war. His main tactic is simple isolation, beating the sages of 7chan by decades. But, just in case, he built a verbal shadowboxing toolkit. Comebacks to anything a Cheryl could possibly say or quietly think. And all you need to ensure your first argument is your last.

Note: mechanically, the writing here’s better. Emotional battery is Shannon’s jam. He’s waited for this section the entire book. I don’t know why he’s single, but hopefully a predator out there can appreciate his craft.

That’s a complicated comeback. Which is fine, if a doctor-worshiper like Cheryl loves you. But most emotional abuse needs brevity. Try fewer words, louder.

Ah, that’s the doctor angle. The Predatory Female gives Cheryl one clear, convincing flaw: she’s a procrastinator.

You might want to learn more about Shannon, or any owner of The Predatory Woman. Don’t. But if you must, Think more abstractly. True prey lives in perpetual mid-divorce. It’s like zen, for hating the skin you wear and air you breathe. Shannon is a grandmaster of turning date banter into a suicide note.

Look closely. You’re seeing something rare. Shannon is provoking an argument with himself. And losing. His strawman is tearing him apart, and it’s not close. I’ve never seen this.

What a match! Shannon’s knocked out Shannon in one round. Our judge, Shannon, has ruled Shannon unloveable. Much to the eternal chagrin of Shannon. Hopefully Shannon gets a fair shake next time.

I can’t tell you that Shannon grew, or wouldn’t fit in today. But I can testify that if you spam fireworks like DisneyLand on Freedom Day, you can make Fried Ape Fillet. And find love or whatever.

I’d love to hear the other side.

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Timmy Leahy, who has mastered the art of Modern Female Snakemancy and now deals double damage against Divorced Enemies. 

You can read this article and every other one on the much better in every way 1900HOTDOG.COM.