Tears of a Clown

Reading between the lines of Roosh's post today ("Men Are Nothing More Than Clowns to the Modern Woman"), I'm guessing someone just got dumped.  

Hey, it happens to all of us, and I would be the last to dismiss the havoc it can play to one's self-esteem.  It's one thing to be rejected before we hit the dance floor.  We can always rationalize the person didn't really know us, so he/she just couldn't recognize the opportunity he/she was passing up.  But to be dumped after a few dates, and perhaps some shared intimacy, hurts like the devil, cuz that stuff is personal. It means the other person has sampled your wares -- probably the best you have on offer -- and found yours not to their taste.

But wait, in the Universe of Roosh, it's never personal.  None of his readers ever need to consider their own inadequacies when girls break up with them.  It has nothing to do with any deficiency on the guy's part, or even on the girl's:  It's the welfare state's problem.  If women didn't have jobs, they would not be able to afford to reject men.  We knew this was the case in the United States, and even worse in Denmark, but it appears to be true in Ukraine as well.

"This is why provider men (beta males) are so hopelessly failing today to secure the commitment of beautiful women in their prime, and this is why even lesser alpha males fail to enter relationships with women beyond a few bangs. Once the entertainment or novelty you provide her declines—and it inevitably will—she moves on to something or someone else..."

Roosh, the master of bizarre analogies, then compares himself to a skirt -- specifically a "glittery" skirt (i.e., not a wardrobe staple).  Then he concludes sadly that men with "tight game" have been reduced to the role of mere entertainers... "clowns."  And who would disagree with him?  Most people do consider him a clown.  Entertaining?  Well, clearly I think so.

Roosh winds up his "Dear Diary" post by trying to comfort himself that he doesn't need girls either.  (After all, he's got "options!")  He can do his own laundry and with his portable panini-press, he has no problem rustling up a home-cooked meal all by his lonesome.  And who needs babies anyway?  You can almost hear the muffled sobs as he taps all this onto his keyboard.
"Whatever natural connection that once existed between the sexes has now been severed."  Seriously?  Cuz I was outside not an hour ago, and I saw half a dozen young couples pushing strollers, enjoying a rare afternoon of sunshine, so there doesn't seem any shortage of "natural connections" in my neighborhood, at least.  Although I doubt there would be much "natural" in a "connection" with Roosh, and good for this girl for recognizing what a selfish, deluded loser he is, and moving on quickly.