The other day, a couple of friends invited me to join them to see "Blue Jasmine" at the charming second-run movie theater in our town. The movie had gotten excellent reviews, I really wanted to catch up with the girls, and I was way overdue for a night out. Still, I couldn't bring myself to go.
You see, I have a Woody Allen problem. I know I'm not alone.
"Don't think of it as a Woody Allen movie," my friend urged. "Think of it as a Cate Blanchett movie."
That didn't help. She chose to work with him, and to laud him at the 2014 Golden Globes. Now Scarlett Johansson has slipped in my esteem by calling the little girl (now woman) who maintains Allen molested her "irresponsible." (One thinks wistfully of the old studio days when movie stars spoke to the press only from carefully crafted scripts.)
See, here's my problem: I'm, like, 99% sure that "Dylan Farrow" is telling the absolute truth.
Some people blame Mia Farrow for the fact that this scandal cannot die. They say she's manipulating the media coverage, that she's still carrying on a bitter vendetta against her former lover because he betrayed her with... her daughter. (Like for Christ's sake, that wasn't bad enough?) Don't think I don't think rather poorly of Ms. Farrow, too, BTW, although not for the reasons much of Hollywood does. My beef with Mia Farrow is that she didn't do more to protect her daughter, soon enough.
I've had arguments with my old friend Max about this. He claims that artists (say, Courtney Love) operate on a different moral plane. They are, by virtue of their talent, somehow "above the law," which only applies to mediocre schlubs like you or me. The art must be judged apart from the artist who created it.
You can argue this with me til the sun goes down, I don't disagree in theory, but it doesn't change my visceral unease and distaste for both the man and his movies. I tried to get past this by watching "Midnight in Paris" last year, but I could never let my guard down enough to immerse myself in the cinematic experience.
I have a similar problem with Roman Polanski, for similar reasons. I watched "Carnage" recently on DVD just because, you know, I'll watch anything Christoph Waltz is in (even when it's in German without subtitles). Yeah, yeah, I know Polanski's victim is now a middle aged matron who forgives him, and the fact that he (in notable contrast to Allen) has admitted his guilt and expressed remorse should mitigate his sentence, but frankly, the only way he could fully redeem himself in my harsh, judgmental eyes is if he returned to the U.S., prepared to face his sentence, which is damned unlikely for a lot of reasons, not least of which is his age.
Last week PBS was hosting one of those "golden oldies" fundraising specials, and who do we see? Michelle Phillips (Mamas and the Papas), burbling on about what a songwriting genius her late former husband John Phillips was. And he was. Unfortunately, he also had a longstanding incestuous relationship with his very vulnerable, very drug-addicted daughter Mackenzie, which she described a few years ago in a book. I watched the Oprah Winfrey interview, and you know what? I am 99% certain she was telling the absolute truth too. And sure, learning that Phillips betrayed and exploited his own daughter in the worst way doesn't mean he didn't make some great music, but it mightily diminishes the pleasure I can now take in listening to that music. And the fact that Michelle Phillips has publicly renounced her stepdaughter as a delusional liar taints her too.
Imagine how horrifying it would be to learn that your ex-husband, someone whom you once loved and had a child with, was, in fact, capable of such evil -- especially when your own legacy is irrevocably tied to his. Still, I have this... this problem with any woman who chooses loyalty to a man over loyalty to a child (even a grown child, and one who is not biologically her own).
I'm also aware that men get falsely accused of child abuse. A lot. And if I believed in God, I would believe there was a special circle in Hell reserved for just such false accusers. It's just that in the above mentioned particular cases, I happen to believe the victims.
It doesn't help those victims that I no longer enjoy the art their perpetrators created, of course. It doesn't help me either. I used to be a huge fan of Woody Allen, Roman Polanski, and John Phillips, before their own actions robbed me (and many others) of the capacity to admire their work.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Mainstream Invading the Manosphere!
Remember Geoffrey Miller? He's the doorknob evolutionary psychologist and author of The Mating Mind who last year tweeted that fat people lacked sufficient self-discipline to successfully complete doctorate programs.
Miller, a tenured associate professor at the University of New Mexico, didn't lose his position, but he was formally censured. Among other punishments, his work must be monitored by his department chair. Not too tightly though, since he seems to have been given the go-ahead to team up with reformed rake Tucker Max in a joint venture, a men's magazine called "Mating Grounds."
And this has made manosphere blogger Danger & Play madder than a wet hen. D & P is accusing Max and Miller of "riding coat tails and pretending to be original when they are copying Danger & Play." Others in the manosphere are equally incensed. How dare that has-been former alpha & now hopelessly beta Tucker Max suggest that there is even a need for another site that teaches men how to get laid? Hasn't he checked out their little corner of the internet lately? They are already accusing Miller and Max of stealing their "content."
First the webmaster of "Viva La Manosphere" tries to muscle in on Danger & Play's juicing turf, then this impertinent challenge! And to add insult to injury, Miller is now pretending he doesn't even know who D & P is!
I've heard academic politics can be brutal, but it's nothing like the dog-eat-dog world of wanna-be masculine lifestyle gurus. I hope Miller and Max appreciate what kind of competition they're up against.
And that concludes the latest episode in the continuing drama that is [cue organ music] the MAN-o-sphere...
Miller, a tenured associate professor at the University of New Mexico, didn't lose his position, but he was formally censured. Among other punishments, his work must be monitored by his department chair. Not too tightly though, since he seems to have been given the go-ahead to team up with reformed rake Tucker Max in a joint venture, a men's magazine called "Mating Grounds."
And this has made manosphere blogger Danger & Play madder than a wet hen. D & P is accusing Max and Miller of "riding coat tails and pretending to be original when they are copying Danger & Play." Others in the manosphere are equally incensed. How dare that has-been former alpha & now hopelessly beta Tucker Max suggest that there is even a need for another site that teaches men how to get laid? Hasn't he checked out their little corner of the internet lately? They are already accusing Miller and Max of stealing their "content."
First the webmaster of "Viva La Manosphere" tries to muscle in on Danger & Play's juicing turf, then this impertinent challenge! And to add insult to injury, Miller is now pretending he doesn't even know who D & P is!
I've heard academic politics can be brutal, but it's nothing like the dog-eat-dog world of wanna-be masculine lifestyle gurus. I hope Miller and Max appreciate what kind of competition they're up against.
And that concludes the latest episode in the continuing drama that is [cue organ music] the MAN-o-sphere...
There Are Consequences...
There is this cracker on the manosphere I'll call "Dr. Delusion." He has a very young girlfriend I'll call "Lady Misandry." Now before you get all politically correct on me and call me out for the use of the term "cracker," I'll have you know that I have it on high authority (that is, a series of bartenders in Florida) that "cracker" is not necessarily a slur and I am not using it pejoratively here. I'm using it to paint a picture of a working-class Southern man who is suspicious of outside authority (government, intellectuals, etc.) and clings to the Old School values of traditional gender roles, independence, self-reliance, and bigotry. The kind of guy who waves the Confederate flag at Lynyrd Skynyrd concerts but will happily offer you a beer from his cooler. (Racists usually take to me on sight because, well look at me! I could be an Aryan Den Mother.)
In fact, I find much to admire about Dr. Delusion. First of all, he is one of those rare "manospherians" who actually seems to work, and to work hard. He's the kind of guy who is not afraid to get his hands dirty. He embodies a lot of the traditional masculine virtues I hold in high esteem, not least of which is the ability to fix stuff. I'm sure he knows his way around Home Depot, and can take any power tool in hand with confidence and authority.
Dr. Delusion and his lady live in a rural area where they raise their own vegetables and animals. I was particularly interested to find that they raise rabbits for food because a few years ago, when the economy tanked, I seriously considered doing the same in my backyard. Unfortunately, I couldn't imagine actually slaughtering them. I would have had to find someone like Dr. Delusion to do that for me. Also, I've eaten rabbit once, and I didn't like it very much.* That's when I decided a better plan was to stockpile booze, so that I'd have something to barter when Doomsday hit.
I've been trying to give up meat, but it's a struggle. I'm fully aware that eating flesh I am not prepared to kill myself is hypocritical. Therefore, I forced myself to view the photos Dr. Delusion had gleefully posted on his blog of killing and skinning a rabbit. It actually looked pretty easy, and tossed in a stew I'm sure it was very palatable.
So I'm reading along, almost wishing I had a neighbor as handy and resourceful as Dr. Delusion, when I come to this line: "This was a two year old female who refuse [sic] to let my bucks breed her. Around my house, there are consequences for refusing to breed." [italics mine]
And that's when I almost lost my lunch.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* I've actually seen a rabbit killed before. When I was visiting a friend's farm near Alessandria, la nonna beckoned me over so that I could watch her dash a rabbit's head against the side of the barn. I threw up on the spot, much to the old lady's amusement. I had just enjoyed a gelato, and when it came back up it was still cold. A singular experience.
In fact, I find much to admire about Dr. Delusion. First of all, he is one of those rare "manospherians" who actually seems to work, and to work hard. He's the kind of guy who is not afraid to get his hands dirty. He embodies a lot of the traditional masculine virtues I hold in high esteem, not least of which is the ability to fix stuff. I'm sure he knows his way around Home Depot, and can take any power tool in hand with confidence and authority.
Dr. Delusion and his lady live in a rural area where they raise their own vegetables and animals. I was particularly interested to find that they raise rabbits for food because a few years ago, when the economy tanked, I seriously considered doing the same in my backyard. Unfortunately, I couldn't imagine actually slaughtering them. I would have had to find someone like Dr. Delusion to do that for me. Also, I've eaten rabbit once, and I didn't like it very much.* That's when I decided a better plan was to stockpile booze, so that I'd have something to barter when Doomsday hit.
I've been trying to give up meat, but it's a struggle. I'm fully aware that eating flesh I am not prepared to kill myself is hypocritical. Therefore, I forced myself to view the photos Dr. Delusion had gleefully posted on his blog of killing and skinning a rabbit. It actually looked pretty easy, and tossed in a stew I'm sure it was very palatable.
So I'm reading along, almost wishing I had a neighbor as handy and resourceful as Dr. Delusion, when I come to this line: "This was a two year old female who refuse [sic] to let my bucks breed her. Around my house, there are consequences for refusing to breed." [italics mine]
And that's when I almost lost my lunch.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* I've actually seen a rabbit killed before. When I was visiting a friend's farm near Alessandria, la nonna beckoned me over so that I could watch her dash a rabbit's head against the side of the barn. I threw up on the spot, much to the old lady's amusement. I had just enjoyed a gelato, and when it came back up it was still cold. A singular experience.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Happy International Earth Day!
Would it surprise you to discover "neo-reactionaries" generally dismiss "climate cultists" who warn us of the effects of global warming?
Well, some of them can't quite bring themselves to deny the science, but they do reject "The Cathedral" that "politicizes" it. In other words, get ready for the consequences of global warming, but do so because YOU want to, not to make some dumb environmentalists happy!
Meanwhile, enjoy this jolly little sculpture on display in Berlin:
Well, some of them can't quite bring themselves to deny the science, but they do reject "The Cathedral" that "politicizes" it. In other words, get ready for the consequences of global warming, but do so because YOU want to, not to make some dumb environmentalists happy!
Meanwhile, enjoy this jolly little sculpture on display in Berlin:
 |
| "Politicians Discussing Global Warming" Sculpture by Isaac Cordal. |
Monday, March 17, 2014
But What Would Paul Krugman Say?
The administration has proposed raising the federal minimum wage as a means of stimulating the economy. I happen to live in the state that boasts both the highest minimum wage and the highest job growth in the country. In fact, there is a lot of support in Seattle to push that minimum wage even higher, to $15/hour. According to Venture Capitalist Nick Hanauer, "A higher
minimum wage is a very simple and elegant solution to the death spiral
of falling demand that is the signature feature of our economy." Not to mention just, compassionate, and the all-around Right Thing To Do.
Of course, not everyone is on board. The Manosphere's own resident economist, Captain Capitalism, proposes an even simpler and more elegant solution: "I have said before, and I am 100% sincere about this, that if women were to lose weight in America, that would increase economic production... because hot chicks incentive [sic] men... And men are the primary producers and innovators of society."
Aaron Clarey, is the "super awesome economic genius" behind Captain Capitalism. His blog represents "some of the finest economic research and philosophy." He lives in Minneapolis, which he claims is "a leftist shit hole." I believe he attended community college at some point.
Of course, not everyone is on board. The Manosphere's own resident economist, Captain Capitalism, proposes an even simpler and more elegant solution: "I have said before, and I am 100% sincere about this, that if women were to lose weight in America, that would increase economic production... because hot chicks incentive [sic] men... And men are the primary producers and innovators of society."
Aaron Clarey, is the "super awesome economic genius" behind Captain Capitalism. His blog represents "some of the finest economic research and philosophy." He lives in Minneapolis, which he claims is "a leftist shit hole." I believe he attended community college at some point.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
White Man's March Follow Up
If you missed the White Man's March yesterday, as I did, you may be
comforted to learn it was a bit of a bust. They couldn't even display all those extra signs around the neighborhood: the cops made them take them all down.
I Love Cleavage (Who Cares)
A couple of days ago, I saw this story about a "creepy subreddit" that encourages members to upload pictures of women showing cleavage (in fact, any "sexy" photo will do) onto a special Facebook page designed for the viewing pleasure of... well, I guess anyone on Facebook who loves to see a suggestion of breasts. (I assume this isn't an "I Love Toe Cleavage" page, although God knows that would draw its own audience.)
There are ground rules: The pictures must already have been posted by the subject (a Facebook user herself), the woman must be over eighteen, and the woman must not be named (as though that will somehow protect her identity these days).
The pages (there are actually more than one) have met with an overwhelmingly enthusiastic response.
Disgusting, isn't it? My first response was: One more way to punish women for being on the internet.
But what if the tables were turned? What if some intrepid person (woman or man) was inspired to obtain pictures of attractive male Facebook users for the same purpose? Hell, for all I know, someone already has (but I'm not willing to waste an hour looking for them).
I had to admit that didn't bother me nearly so much, and I had to ask myself, Why not?
There is plenty of evidence that American women have taken to "objectifying" men in record numbers. Just read Jezebel or any number of popular women's magazines. Recall the kerfuffle over Jon Hamm's candid "crotch shots" last year? I have every reason to believe he found that experience just as humiliating and invasive as some Jane Doe who has already posed for and posted the pictures herself.
I'm not saying that "objectifying" people of any gender is behavior to be proud of. But we have to acknowledge it seems hard-wired in the human brain to do so. Obviously, both men and women enjoy looking at pictures of good-looking men and women in various states of deshabille. (And kittens. And babies. And food.) And we especially savor images we're not "supposed to" see.
The underlying "revenge" element in "I Love Cleavage" or similar Facebook pages is quite unpleasant, like watered-down versions of Hunter Moore's Is Anyone Up. There is an unescapable sense that these young women are being "shamed" for their sexuality. Again, I ask, Why? I assume the young women posted their own "sexy" images as a celebration of their beauty, or out of vanity, or a desire to be desired -- all, BTW, perfectly valid, healthy, and natural reasons in my opinion. So the idea that these pictures have "shaming potential" is merely a demonstration of howfucked up puritanical Americans are (even / especially American "feminists").
I'm not saying that Facebook shouldn't address this issue with a change of policy. If enough fuss is raised, it probably will. After all, Facebook is the domain of adolescents (of all ages), whom we hypocritically claim to "protect."
If there is one thing I've learned in the last few months, it's that none of us have completely comprehended the power of social media to showcase the most base of human behavior.
Although I'm not ever going to find my mug (orboobs decollatage) on an "I Love Cleavage" Facebook page, I will just add that I'm sorry I ever joined Facebook. Of course, now that I'm on, I can't get off. And I'll bet a lot of my friends feel the same way.
There are ground rules: The pictures must already have been posted by the subject (a Facebook user herself), the woman must be over eighteen, and the woman must not be named (as though that will somehow protect her identity these days).
The pages (there are actually more than one) have met with an overwhelmingly enthusiastic response.
Disgusting, isn't it? My first response was: One more way to punish women for being on the internet.
But what if the tables were turned? What if some intrepid person (woman or man) was inspired to obtain pictures of attractive male Facebook users for the same purpose? Hell, for all I know, someone already has (but I'm not willing to waste an hour looking for them).
I had to admit that didn't bother me nearly so much, and I had to ask myself, Why not?
There is plenty of evidence that American women have taken to "objectifying" men in record numbers. Just read Jezebel or any number of popular women's magazines. Recall the kerfuffle over Jon Hamm's candid "crotch shots" last year? I have every reason to believe he found that experience just as humiliating and invasive as some Jane Doe who has already posed for and posted the pictures herself.
I'm not saying that "objectifying" people of any gender is behavior to be proud of. But we have to acknowledge it seems hard-wired in the human brain to do so. Obviously, both men and women enjoy looking at pictures of good-looking men and women in various states of deshabille. (And kittens. And babies. And food.) And we especially savor images we're not "supposed to" see.
The underlying "revenge" element in "I Love Cleavage" or similar Facebook pages is quite unpleasant, like watered-down versions of Hunter Moore's Is Anyone Up. There is an unescapable sense that these young women are being "shamed" for their sexuality. Again, I ask, Why? I assume the young women posted their own "sexy" images as a celebration of their beauty, or out of vanity, or a desire to be desired -- all, BTW, perfectly valid, healthy, and natural reasons in my opinion. So the idea that these pictures have "shaming potential" is merely a demonstration of how
I'm not saying that Facebook shouldn't address this issue with a change of policy. If enough fuss is raised, it probably will. After all, Facebook is the domain of adolescents (of all ages), whom we hypocritically claim to "protect."
If there is one thing I've learned in the last few months, it's that none of us have completely comprehended the power of social media to showcase the most base of human behavior.
Although I'm not ever going to find my mug (or
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid
So I'm meandering through the Mysterious Forest of Twitter (because I will do anything to avoid marking papers) when I stumble across a tweet by a self-styled, Las Vegas-based playboy (whose first name is probably what he is not practicing, and whose last name is pretty much the epitome of posthumous cool). This particular specimen of machismo has a manosphere blog, too, of course, where he promotes his e-books and classes. His latest post teaches men "How To Have A Three Way With Strippers." I didn't read it since I'm not planning a trip to Sin City anytime soon, but I would hazard to guess that it's all a matter of having the right party favors.
I recognized his moniker because he was one of the boys who was outraged by Roosh's little hoax. But now he's done an about-face, urging his followers to "Treat Roosh right. I'd take a bullet for him. Don't fuck with him or fuck with me. And trust me, you don't want to fuck with him."
Now that got my attention, because I reckon I'm somewhere on Roosh's Shit List. And at least by his standards, I've already "fucked with him" a bit.
And "take a bullet for him," isn't that a bit... melodramatic? I mean, under what circumstances might that be necessary? Is Roosh a masculine lifestyle guru, or a war lord?
What are these guys so afraid of, I wonder? That they'll be doxxed and their Google-able identities slimed?
Trust me, fellas, it isn't as bad as you fear.
Oops! Breaking news! Looks like the Las Vegas playboy has just been doxxed himself! And not by some nasty feminist either!
Anyway, poor guy, I'm certainly not going to compound his misery here. After all, we can all agree that doxxing is a terrible thing to do, a cowardly and despicable action, and as a sympathetic compadre pointed out, [tsk-tsk!] just goes to show how some people have way too much time on their hands!
I recognized his moniker because he was one of the boys who was outraged by Roosh's little hoax. But now he's done an about-face, urging his followers to "Treat Roosh right. I'd take a bullet for him. Don't fuck with him or fuck with me. And trust me, you don't want to fuck with him."
Now that got my attention, because I reckon I'm somewhere on Roosh's Shit List. And at least by his standards, I've already "fucked with him" a bit.
And "take a bullet for him," isn't that a bit... melodramatic? I mean, under what circumstances might that be necessary? Is Roosh a masculine lifestyle guru, or a war lord?
What are these guys so afraid of, I wonder? That they'll be doxxed and their Google-able identities slimed?
Trust me, fellas, it isn't as bad as you fear.
Oops! Breaking news! Looks like the Las Vegas playboy has just been doxxed himself! And not by some nasty feminist either!
Anyway, poor guy, I'm certainly not going to compound his misery here. After all, we can all agree that doxxing is a terrible thing to do, a cowardly and despicable action, and as a sympathetic compadre pointed out, [tsk-tsk!] just goes to show how some people have way too much time on their hands!
 |
| I don't think this is going to help. |
Now You Tell Me!
In case you're in NYC, you may still have time to hustle your bustle down to the White Man March. It's been organized by Kyle Hunt, a 30-year-old graduate of
Amherst College with a double major in psychology and theater and dance. (Hey, wait a minute, aren't those sort of "girly" interests for a manly white supremacist? On the other hand, they're probably good preparation for someone launching a fledgling career producing idiotic spectacles to incite the most moronic elements of society.) Of course, they've got signs, and those are pretty hilarious too (although not quite as hilarious as the MRA signs).
 |
| Not your typical product of an expensive liberal education. |
Friday, March 14, 2014
Dragnet Nation
If you missed Bill Moyers' interview with Julia Angwin, the author of Dragnet Nation, it's well worth watching. The worst news? It's pretty much impossible to "opt out."
What American Women Watch On Netflix
So over on Return of Kings, a fellow who goes by the commanding handle "General Stalin" posits that a gentleman can know a lot about a lady by her Netflix queue.
That's probably true, and the same goes for a person's library record. Every time I pass the pleasant young man at my local library's circulation desk, I have to avert my eyes because he knows more about me than my doctor does.
Anyway, General Stalin claims to have a unique insight into the psychology of American women because a girl he "casually dated" left her Netflix password on his laptop. Not only did he get to enjoy months of free streaming, he knew exactly what his ex and her roomies were watching (and presumably thinking).
That General Stalin is one nosy dude! Not to mention cheap. And it occurs to me that confessing to this seems oddly more embarrassing than once failing to return a library book, but I digress... Truth be told, I would have been sorely tempted to behave in a similarly dubious fashion, especially if I had some "unfinished business" with the ex.
The General summarizes his findings as follows:
First, young American women watch a lot of "sexually deviant movies and documentaries." The General was dismayed to find that "a small group of average white single American girls, who grew up in nice neighborhoods with good families, cared far more about sex than romance. I hardly ever saw a romantic comedy or critically acclaimed tear-jerker on there."
I'm not a young woman, but even when I was I generally loathed romantic comedies and treacly melodramas (with a few notable exceptions). But I did, and still do, treat myself to the occasional kinky documentary. Ever since my ten year old psyche was permanently scarred by "Mondo Cane," I've had a predilection for viewing the bizarre margins of human behavior. I have watched more than one documentary about "sex dolls", for example, a phenomenon I find morbidly fascinating.
Second in popularity, according to General Stalin's informal survey, were independent movies with "strong female leads" especially those that featured women overcoming perilous situations, like "Girl With The Dragon Tattoo." This makes perfect sense to me. People (not just women) enjoy watching characters they can identify with who use their wits and fortitude to triumph over evil. From this, the General concludes that "single women want to be fucked raw and treated like filth by bad-boy miscreants, but they also want to make these men suffer for not showing them respect and honoring their strength and independence." WTF? I would come to the opposite conclusion. Both men and women love watching horror and suspense for a number of reasons, but the desire to actually be a real victim (or perpetrator) is not one of them.
I've already confessed that horror and true crime are my guilty pleasures. My Netflix queue is jammed with unwatched "Disappeared" and "Deadly Women" episodes. Ann Rule books are my "go to" trashy reading. I scare the bejeezus out of myself for an hour, then turn on the lights and realize how safe and cozy my life actually is, have a hot cup of cocoa and sleep like a baby. Sadly, my partner does not share my passion, so I have to indulge myself when she is not around.
Finally, the girls whose Netflix viewing he was obsessively monitoring had a taste, broadly shared by the American public, for "Reality TV."
OK, I agree with General Stalin, that is just plain indefensible. I'm proud to say that I never watch Reality TV shows. Except for the ones about plucky dwarfs and adorable polygamists.
BTW, why can these guys never discuss American women's media tastes without referencing Sex and the City, a show that has been off the air for a decade? It's beginning to seem like a kind of tic.
General Stalin describes himself as "a passionate but misanthropic cynic who is tired and beaten down by the shortcomings of Western civilization, currently living a life of quiet desperation." I feel his pain.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm right in the middle of "Blue is the Warmest Color,"and I'm just getting to the "good parts" if you know what I mean (and I know that you do).
That's probably true, and the same goes for a person's library record. Every time I pass the pleasant young man at my local library's circulation desk, I have to avert my eyes because he knows more about me than my doctor does.
Anyway, General Stalin claims to have a unique insight into the psychology of American women because a girl he "casually dated" left her Netflix password on his laptop. Not only did he get to enjoy months of free streaming, he knew exactly what his ex and her roomies were watching (and presumably thinking).
That General Stalin is one nosy dude! Not to mention cheap. And it occurs to me that confessing to this seems oddly more embarrassing than once failing to return a library book, but I digress... Truth be told, I would have been sorely tempted to behave in a similarly dubious fashion, especially if I had some "unfinished business" with the ex.
The General summarizes his findings as follows:
First, young American women watch a lot of "sexually deviant movies and documentaries." The General was dismayed to find that "a small group of average white single American girls, who grew up in nice neighborhoods with good families, cared far more about sex than romance. I hardly ever saw a romantic comedy or critically acclaimed tear-jerker on there."
I'm not a young woman, but even when I was I generally loathed romantic comedies and treacly melodramas (with a few notable exceptions). But I did, and still do, treat myself to the occasional kinky documentary. Ever since my ten year old psyche was permanently scarred by "Mondo Cane," I've had a predilection for viewing the bizarre margins of human behavior. I have watched more than one documentary about "sex dolls", for example, a phenomenon I find morbidly fascinating.
Second in popularity, according to General Stalin's informal survey, were independent movies with "strong female leads" especially those that featured women overcoming perilous situations, like "Girl With The Dragon Tattoo." This makes perfect sense to me. People (not just women) enjoy watching characters they can identify with who use their wits and fortitude to triumph over evil. From this, the General concludes that "single women want to be fucked raw and treated like filth by bad-boy miscreants, but they also want to make these men suffer for not showing them respect and honoring their strength and independence." WTF? I would come to the opposite conclusion. Both men and women love watching horror and suspense for a number of reasons, but the desire to actually be a real victim (or perpetrator) is not one of them.
I've already confessed that horror and true crime are my guilty pleasures. My Netflix queue is jammed with unwatched "Disappeared" and "Deadly Women" episodes. Ann Rule books are my "go to" trashy reading. I scare the bejeezus out of myself for an hour, then turn on the lights and realize how safe and cozy my life actually is, have a hot cup of cocoa and sleep like a baby. Sadly, my partner does not share my passion, so I have to indulge myself when she is not around.
Finally, the girls whose Netflix viewing he was obsessively monitoring had a taste, broadly shared by the American public, for "Reality TV."
OK, I agree with General Stalin, that is just plain indefensible. I'm proud to say that I never watch Reality TV shows. Except for the ones about plucky dwarfs and adorable polygamists.
BTW, why can these guys never discuss American women's media tastes without referencing Sex and the City, a show that has been off the air for a decade? It's beginning to seem like a kind of tic.
General Stalin describes himself as "a passionate but misanthropic cynic who is tired and beaten down by the shortcomings of Western civilization, currently living a life of quiet desperation." I feel his pain.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm right in the middle of "Blue is the Warmest Color,"and I'm just getting to the "good parts" if you know what I mean (and I know that you do).
Now This Is Scary
 |
| Looks like A Nice Guy, doesn't he? |
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Too Funny Not to Share
If you haven't seen the new website of "Femgoddess" Desiree Meyers-Liebowitz, it isn't for her lack of self-promotion on twitter. She only has one post up so far, but it's designed to create quite a stir in the PUA community: "The Five Ugliest Pickup Artists". It's a much funnier (and much meaner) riposte to the Return of Kings post that started me on my own road to ruin over a year ago.
My initial question was, Who exactly is Desiree sending up? Because she seems to be making as much fun of the "fat acceptance movement" and the "BBW" scene as she is of the New Misogynists. In other words, I was pretty skeptical that Desiree Meyers-Liebowitz was the unapologetic cuckolding feminist fatty that she claimed to be.
I had no idea who the creator could be of (what I initially assumed was) this brilliant caricature, or even his/her gender. For if "The Five Ugliest Pickup Artists" she eviscerates in her post represent the average woman's worst nightmare, Desiree's online persona is custom-built to be the average manospherean's fever dream of what a "feminist" is: A "gender studies" major, she has scored herself a "beta" lawyer husband "Harold" who, when not busying himself in the kitchen, is rubbing her feet and, indeed, embracing every inch of her gloriously wanton, gluttonous self, while she lolls on the couch stuffing herself with cheetos and entertaining a stream of eager swains.
Then I did a little "research" (that is, idlestalking googling) and I learned that Desiree has been lurking in the manosphere for years, even posting on Il Douche's Forum in 2012 (back before he decreed that vaginas defiled the Inner Sanctum*). So it appears that she has either been "trolling" these guys for quite a while, or else Desiree Meyers Liebowitz really is "for real."
It doesn't matter either way, I guess. My only question for Desiree at this point is, What took you so long? And what will you post next?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* And before he thought to explicitly exclude "homos" or even ban his own members if they stooped to respond to a female commenter who had somehow slipped through security. Are there no lengths to which this freak won't go to maintain "ritual purity?"
My initial question was, Who exactly is Desiree sending up? Because she seems to be making as much fun of the "fat acceptance movement" and the "BBW" scene as she is of the New Misogynists. In other words, I was pretty skeptical that Desiree Meyers-Liebowitz was the unapologetic cuckolding feminist fatty that she claimed to be.
I had no idea who the creator could be of (what I initially assumed was) this brilliant caricature, or even his/her gender. For if "The Five Ugliest Pickup Artists" she eviscerates in her post represent the average woman's worst nightmare, Desiree's online persona is custom-built to be the average manospherean's fever dream of what a "feminist" is: A "gender studies" major, she has scored herself a "beta" lawyer husband "Harold" who, when not busying himself in the kitchen, is rubbing her feet and, indeed, embracing every inch of her gloriously wanton, gluttonous self, while she lolls on the couch stuffing herself with cheetos and entertaining a stream of eager swains.
Then I did a little "research" (that is, idle
It doesn't matter either way, I guess. My only question for Desiree at this point is, What took you so long? And what will you post next?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* And before he thought to explicitly exclude "homos" or even ban his own members if they stooped to respond to a female commenter who had somehow slipped through security. Are there no lengths to which this freak won't go to maintain "ritual purity?"
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Is This the Worst Relationship Advice Ever?
A couple of weeks ago, our favorite "Game Master" challenged his readers, "Are You The Player Or Are You Getting Played?"
There are only two roles that can exist in any male-female relationship:
(This post seems deliciously ironic in light of the fact that it was quickly followed by the writer and his co-conspirator Tuthmosis "playing" the entire Roosh V and Return of Kings readership, as though to drive home the point in the most humiliating manner that this "zero-sum game" is not confined to sexual relationships.)
The man who is "a winner" gets to establish all terms, chief among them "the frequency and depravity of sex," the opportunity to "degrade her in bed to your satisfaction."
Wow. Let's just get past this unfortunate choice of words -- this is Roosh, after all -- and concede (for the 100th time) that this is a person who not only hates women, but really hates the sexual act itself. For how can one person "degrade" another without degrading himself? How morally bankrupt and perverse is a person who perceives the act of sex as an opportunity to "degrade" another human being?
"There is no other role that you can fill. There is no 50/50."
In fact, I have seen (though thankfully few) relationships in which the individuals involved DID take turns exploiting and humiliating each other tit for tat. But I didn't get the impression either party was enjoying himself/herself much.
A relationship in which one party pulls all the strings all the time is going to get tedious even for (indeed, especially for) the one in charge. That's why it strikes me that doms have a much harder "job" than subs do. That's why there is always a bigger market for "tops" than "bottoms."
"Remember that time when you started off as the player, but then you got played in the end? I know why that happened. It’s because you stopped giving her the game that got her in bed in the first place."
Now here Roosh actually touches on something that I can recognize as a kind of truth: To keep the other's interest, especially in the early stages of a relationship, one must remain a little at bay. It is human nature that we don't value what is too easily obtained. Courtship is a series of small tests; it is a dance in which one partner steps forward, the other back (and reverse). And even later, if and when commitment and trust are established, the roles of "giver" vs. "receiver" tend to fluctuate. Among many contented couples I have seen, one partner is always more "in love" than the other, and that works well too -- so long as the power balance is not too lop-sided. 50/50? Probably not realistic. 20/80? Not uncommon at all.
I also think Roosh has a point when he claims women dislike "needy" men who force them to run the show. My impression is that passivity and "instant attachment" are, indeed, huge turn-offs to most (although not all) women. Whether this reflects an intrinsic quality in women's natures, I don't know, but I'm willing to entertain the possibility. My personal observation is that, while it is true that "neediness" in a man is more of a turn-off to women than the other way 'round, it doesn't follow that most men are looking for a "sex-bot" in the flesh, either.
To keep the spark alive, both parties must be stimulated by a sense that they do not possess "all" of their partner. And whether male, female, or other, people in a coupled relationship need to work to maintain their individuality and "personhood" for a number of reasons. One of these reasons is pragmatic. Relationships never last forever. Unless both parties perish simultaneously in a fiery crash, one is likely to predecease the other. If the survivor has completely given himself away, built his or her life entirely around another, what will be left to sustain him? Another reason is that a relationship without any tension or conflict whatsoever is about as exciting and as "sexy" as a tepid bath. Predictability is the death of romance, and what could be more numbingly predictable than a relationship in which one person calls all the shots all the time?
What frustrates me about someone like Roosh giving relationship advice to young men is that he is someone who has never been in an intimate relationship himself (sorry, one night stands just don't count). It's even worse than celibate priests acting as marriage counselors, because Roosh actually hates women. (And while the Catholic Church as an institution treats women badly, I don't assume its individual clergy do.) It's like taking financial advice from a person who (looks like he) lives in a trailer park.
And if there's one thing I'm pretty sure about after examining the readership of these self-appointed authorities is that most of them really do want relationships. Of course, if you're a lonely, horny 17 year old, a casual "bang" (or even a series of them) sounds great, but I expect their dreams are a little bigger and better than that: They want beautiful girlfriends who understand them and want to have sex with them because they love them for who they are.
Isn't that what everyone wants?
I really hate to see impressionable minds prematurely embittered by cynical advice like this because their dreams are not impossible or permanently out of reach -- although following "game" theory is the worst way to achieve them.
There are only two roles that can exist in any male-female relationship:
- The player
- The person who gets played
(This post seems deliciously ironic in light of the fact that it was quickly followed by the writer and his co-conspirator Tuthmosis "playing" the entire Roosh V and Return of Kings readership, as though to drive home the point in the most humiliating manner that this "zero-sum game" is not confined to sexual relationships.)
The man who is "a winner" gets to establish all terms, chief among them "the frequency and depravity of sex," the opportunity to "degrade her in bed to your satisfaction."
Wow. Let's just get past this unfortunate choice of words -- this is Roosh, after all -- and concede (for the 100th time) that this is a person who not only hates women, but really hates the sexual act itself. For how can one person "degrade" another without degrading himself? How morally bankrupt and perverse is a person who perceives the act of sex as an opportunity to "degrade" another human being?
"There is no other role that you can fill. There is no 50/50."
In fact, I have seen (though thankfully few) relationships in which the individuals involved DID take turns exploiting and humiliating each other tit for tat. But I didn't get the impression either party was enjoying himself/herself much.
A relationship in which one party pulls all the strings all the time is going to get tedious even for (indeed, especially for) the one in charge. That's why it strikes me that doms have a much harder "job" than subs do. That's why there is always a bigger market for "tops" than "bottoms."
"Remember that time when you started off as the player, but then you got played in the end? I know why that happened. It’s because you stopped giving her the game that got her in bed in the first place."
Now here Roosh actually touches on something that I can recognize as a kind of truth: To keep the other's interest, especially in the early stages of a relationship, one must remain a little at bay. It is human nature that we don't value what is too easily obtained. Courtship is a series of small tests; it is a dance in which one partner steps forward, the other back (and reverse). And even later, if and when commitment and trust are established, the roles of "giver" vs. "receiver" tend to fluctuate. Among many contented couples I have seen, one partner is always more "in love" than the other, and that works well too -- so long as the power balance is not too lop-sided. 50/50? Probably not realistic. 20/80? Not uncommon at all.
I also think Roosh has a point when he claims women dislike "needy" men who force them to run the show. My impression is that passivity and "instant attachment" are, indeed, huge turn-offs to most (although not all) women. Whether this reflects an intrinsic quality in women's natures, I don't know, but I'm willing to entertain the possibility. My personal observation is that, while it is true that "neediness" in a man is more of a turn-off to women than the other way 'round, it doesn't follow that most men are looking for a "sex-bot" in the flesh, either.
To keep the spark alive, both parties must be stimulated by a sense that they do not possess "all" of their partner. And whether male, female, or other, people in a coupled relationship need to work to maintain their individuality and "personhood" for a number of reasons. One of these reasons is pragmatic. Relationships never last forever. Unless both parties perish simultaneously in a fiery crash, one is likely to predecease the other. If the survivor has completely given himself away, built his or her life entirely around another, what will be left to sustain him? Another reason is that a relationship without any tension or conflict whatsoever is about as exciting and as "sexy" as a tepid bath. Predictability is the death of romance, and what could be more numbingly predictable than a relationship in which one person calls all the shots all the time?
What frustrates me about someone like Roosh giving relationship advice to young men is that he is someone who has never been in an intimate relationship himself (sorry, one night stands just don't count). It's even worse than celibate priests acting as marriage counselors, because Roosh actually hates women. (And while the Catholic Church as an institution treats women badly, I don't assume its individual clergy do.) It's like taking financial advice from a person who (looks like he) lives in a trailer park.
And if there's one thing I'm pretty sure about after examining the readership of these self-appointed authorities is that most of them really do want relationships. Of course, if you're a lonely, horny 17 year old, a casual "bang" (or even a series of them) sounds great, but I expect their dreams are a little bigger and better than that: They want beautiful girlfriends who understand them and want to have sex with them because they love them for who they are.
Isn't that what everyone wants?
I really hate to see impressionable minds prematurely embittered by cynical advice like this because their dreams are not impossible or permanently out of reach -- although following "game" theory is the worst way to achieve them.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Candy Darling, Born Too Soon?
I have always adored Candy Darling, one of Andy Warhol's
"superstars" of the sixties. While she was enjoying her 15 minutes of fame, I was in middle school, too
young to see her movies, but I recall her face on the movie posters and in the Vogue spreads, and thought she was the
absolute pinnacle of feminine glamor. I don't think I realized she was transsexual at the time; I don't think I knew what a transsexual was back then.
What really impresses me now is how a chronically broke, homeless transsexual (back in
the days when cross-dressing was a crime), who slept on couches and
subsisted on party leftovers and speed, could always look so... perfect? What also really impresses me now is what a dry wit she had. She is the funniest (and best) element of any of those old Warhol movies, especially Women in Revolt, which was meant to be satire of the burgeoning women's liberation movement (but which doesn't seem so satirical to me now).
Candy Darling was born and raised a beautiful "boy" on Long Island, and she turned herself into Kim Novak. In fact, she outdid Kim Novak. She was the inspiration for two Lou Reed songs, and her iconic death bed photo (she died of lymphoma, age 29) has adorned many a wall and record cover.
 |
| That wasn't just role playing: She really was dying. |
A documentary about her life, Beautiful Darling, made by her best friend Jeremiah Newton in 2010, is now available on DVD. Obviously a labor of love, it left me with a lot of unanswered questions, and a hunger to know (and see) more. Sadly, it is likely to be the last word on the unfulfilled promise of her brief life.
Femitheist Divine Lives On!
A couple of years ago Paul Elam posted rather hysterically about the suicide of a "radical feminist" who had been advocating, among other drastic measures, the castration of men and the worship of the feminine principle, apparently never pausing to consider that her series of Youtube videos might be a blatant and fairly elaborate hoax.
It's been a couple of years since she was doxxed and then "faked her own suicide", but Femitheist Divine is still producing Youtube videos and until quite recently, was still engaging with MRAs. And she is still the "feminist" a lot of gullable manosphereans love to hate.
She was very young when she started to troll the Young Misogynists, BTW -- well under 21 at the time. I'm not sure if her relative youth says more about her precocity or the dearth of creative outlets available to teenagers in rural Arkansas.
Many of the manospheans have finally figured out they are being royally pranked by this naughty Southern Belle, but they're still pissed off. They know that the world is divided into two groups, The Players and The Played, and, as the last kerfuffle on Return of Kings demonstrates, they don't like finding themselves in the latter category -- no, not one little bit!
I've only watched bits and pieces of her oeuvre, but my own distinct impression is that Femitheiste Divine is neither "evil" nor "mentally ill" and that she still finds that making fun of the boys of the manosphere can be pretty diverting.
It's been a couple of years since she was doxxed and then "faked her own suicide", but Femitheist Divine is still producing Youtube videos and until quite recently, was still engaging with MRAs. And she is still the "feminist" a lot of gullable manosphereans love to hate.
She was very young when she started to troll the Young Misogynists, BTW -- well under 21 at the time. I'm not sure if her relative youth says more about her precocity or the dearth of creative outlets available to teenagers in rural Arkansas.
Many of the manospheans have finally figured out they are being royally pranked by this naughty Southern Belle, but they're still pissed off. They know that the world is divided into two groups, The Players and The Played, and, as the last kerfuffle on Return of Kings demonstrates, they don't like finding themselves in the latter category -- no, not one little bit!
I've only watched bits and pieces of her oeuvre, but my own distinct impression is that Femitheiste Divine is neither "evil" nor "mentally ill" and that she still finds that making fun of the boys of the manosphere can be pretty diverting.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Hypatia of Alexandria
Tonight I watched "Agora", a 2009 Spanish film by director Alejandro Amenabar starring Rachel Weisz as Hypatia of Alexandria, a 4th century pagan mathematician sometimes credited (probably inaccurately) with inventing the astrolabe and hydrometer, but whose work on conic curves is well established. Hypatia was brutally murdered by Christian zealots (depicted in the scene below).
The film has been criticized for being historically inaccurate. Although Hypatia is considered "one of the mothers of mathematics", none of her work survived her death and the only information we have is from secondary sources. Regardless of liberties taken, the film is worth watching, especially if you enjoy ancient historical dramas as I do, simply for the recreation of ancient Alexandria in the moments before the collapse of the Roman Empire (the film was shot in Malta), and for the poignant performance by Rachel Weisz.
Rational thought quashed by fundamentalism, the distrust of education and intellectual achievement (particularly of women), sexual violence as a means to intimidate an entire gender... Is this what the 21st century proponents of the "Dark Enlightenment" advocate?
The film has been criticized for being historically inaccurate. Although Hypatia is considered "one of the mothers of mathematics", none of her work survived her death and the only information we have is from secondary sources. Regardless of liberties taken, the film is worth watching, especially if you enjoy ancient historical dramas as I do, simply for the recreation of ancient Alexandria in the moments before the collapse of the Roman Empire (the film was shot in Malta), and for the poignant performance by Rachel Weisz.
Rational thought quashed by fundamentalism, the distrust of education and intellectual achievement (particularly of women), sexual violence as a means to intimidate an entire gender... Is this what the 21st century proponents of the "Dark Enlightenment" advocate?
Saturday, March 8, 2014
International Women's Day
It's International Women's Day. I love how this "doodle" includes a brief shot of beautiful and outspoken Janet Mock, a (trans) woman activist who has become a prominent voice for transgender rights recently. This reminds me I need to buy her new book.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Buy a T-shirt, Support the SPLC
Over here at Casa La Strega, I'm holding a little fundraiser for the Southern Poverty Law Center, and you're all invited. (If this were real life, I would have an open bar, but as we're all on the internet, I can only send you a virtual martini, purtroppo.) For a mere $15.00+ you can purchase this t-shirt through cafepress. A third of the proceeds will go to the SPLC. This is set up as a fundraiser, so you only have 21 days to make up your mind and quantities are limited. Hey, what's more cheerful for spring than a yellow cotton shirt with a merry little bee stalking dangerously buzzing merrily about? C'mon, you know you want one!
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
A Heartening Post by Pharyngula
This story on PZ Myer's blog today, about an Indian man who invented a way to make disposable sanitary napkins affordable to poor women, is truly inspiring. I totally love that he recognized what a struggle maintaining menstrual hygiene was for the women in his village.
We take disposable tampons and napkins for granted, but in fact they're a fairly recent development. I remember my grandmother describing how the women in her family had a special bucket in which to soak blood-stained rags in preparation for Wash Day. It was hidden in a dark corner of the basement, a shameful and disgusting receptacle, vigilantly kept from the eyes of children and menfolk.
We take disposable tampons and napkins for granted, but in fact they're a fairly recent development. I remember my grandmother describing how the women in her family had a special bucket in which to soak blood-stained rags in preparation for Wash Day. It was hidden in a dark corner of the basement, a shameful and disgusting receptacle, vigilantly kept from the eyes of children and menfolk.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Who Cares What Women Think?
Not the "manosphere", that's for darn sure! I mean, do I have to spell it out for you? "MAN-o-sphere."
I so wish, like Matt Forney, I could learn to disregard the opinions of people for whom I have no respect. (Even if, as in this case, that group constitutes 52% of the population.) I'd definitely be happier and probably a lot more productive.
On the other hand... For a fellow who considers females' opinions of no consequence whatsoever, Matt F. sure does spend a lot of time tracking down any negative reactions to his opinions. And then declaring those who dare mock him to be his "enemy" and compiling dossiers on them. And then plotting revenge, pronouncing his sentence, and meting out his own special version of Wild West justice.
For a guy who proudly proclaims himself "the most hated man on the Internet" and who churns out bestsellers like Trolling For A Living, Matt Forney is shockingly thin-skinned.
In the same post, he re-publishes his own tweets explaining whose opinions do matter:
Matthew Forney @realmattforney Follow
I so wish, like Matt Forney, I could learn to disregard the opinions of people for whom I have no respect. (Even if, as in this case, that group constitutes 52% of the population.) I'd definitely be happier and probably a lot more productive.
On the other hand... For a fellow who considers females' opinions of no consequence whatsoever, Matt F. sure does spend a lot of time tracking down any negative reactions to his opinions. And then declaring those who dare mock him to be his "enemy" and compiling dossiers on them. And then plotting revenge, pronouncing his sentence, and meting out his own special version of Wild West justice.
For a guy who proudly proclaims himself "the most hated man on the Internet" and who churns out bestsellers like Trolling For A Living, Matt Forney is shockingly thin-skinned.
In the same post, he re-publishes his own tweets explaining whose opinions do matter:
Matthew Forney @realmattforney Follow
The manosphere is for MEN, young men in particular. The opinions of everyone else are irrelevant.
Unfortunately, this particular tweet didn't go down too well with one of his readers, some old geezer who positions himself as a kind of General in the War On Women:
"Ultimately, it’s the old guys who have the political connections and
money who hire the young men and provide resources to make things
happen. Don’t ignore the old guys. If daddy ain’t happy, ain’t nobody
happy."
And then of course our favorite ray of "Christian" sunshine jumps in, to blather on about the gender norming of IQ tests, like anyone there gives a hoot that she "administers them as a part of my job" (that is, when she isn't crashing the boys' parties).
Oh Mary, dear Mary, can't you read? Even Red Pill girls haz got cooties!
And then of course our favorite ray of "Christian" sunshine jumps in, to blather on about the gender norming of IQ tests, like anyone there gives a hoot that she "administers them as a part of my job" (that is, when she isn't crashing the boys' parties).
Oh Mary, dear Mary, can't you read? Even Red Pill girls haz got cooties!
Monday, March 3, 2014
This Is A Bit Rich!
Roosh, in response to criticism from his forum members for "trolling" them, lectures:
Emotionally secure people are not harmed by others perspectives, genuine or trolling. … If you feel like you are being trolled or become angry at something you read online, see if there is a way you can learn from the experience and be grateful for it.
Uh-huh.
Emotionally secure people are not harmed by others perspectives, genuine or trolling. … If you feel like you are being trolled or become angry at something you read online, see if there is a way you can learn from the experience and be grateful for it.
Uh-huh.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Oh no!
I'll admit that part of the "addictive" quality of following the New Misogynists is that there always seems to be a lot of petty drama going on in their lives. Really, the "manosphere" (and that especially includes the female bloggers), is like a huge soap opera, full of squabbles, weird sexual fantasies, and the occasional twist and turn in the story lines. Although I think we could all see this coming.
UPDATE It was a hoax perpetrated by Il Douche himself. I wonder how his followers will feel about this. It's kind of like Fawney calling his readers "retards", isn't it? Oh these boys, what a merry crew of pranksters they are!
UPDATE It was a hoax perpetrated by Il Douche himself. I wonder how his followers will feel about this. It's kind of like Fawney calling his readers "retards", isn't it? Oh these boys, what a merry crew of pranksters they are!
The Internet as a Weapon of Misogynists
This article in Salon caught my attention today, for obvious reasons: "Women who have a tendency to exhibit feminist notions on the Internet are especially victims of this [doxxing and humiliation]. Anti-feminism and the doxxing movement are interrelated. There's a notion of wanting to harm women who speak out or take up too much space, women who don't know their place on the Internet. As Adam Savage says, 'The Internet hates women'."
Friday, February 28, 2014
Just What the Doctor Ordered!
Courtesy of Muse in Vivo, this is really brightening my afternoon!
24 Hours of Happy with Pharrell Williams
24 Hours of Happy with Pharrell Williams
"Barren" vs. "Child-Free"
Several of my colleagues are dealing with the travails of parenting adolescent children, and whenever I overhear them complaining, I can't help but think, "There but for the Grace of God..." For some of them, the workplace is a refuge from the incessant demands of the ungrateful, surly rebels in their care. How fortunate I feel to go home and have only to tend to loving pets and a kind, supportive human companion.
Yet the New Misogynists darkly warn young women to avoid the fate of spinsters like me, who wind up alone and unloved. Having failed to fulfill our biological destiny, we are almost worse than useless. I have even recently been described, without irony, as "barren", one of those portentous biblical terms (like "fornicate") the manosphereans like to fling about in a futile attempt at gravitas. It never fails to amuse me.
Like most women of my generation, I vaguely assumed that some day I would have a biological family -- when I was good and ready, that is. Unfortunately, by the time I was psychologically and financially prepared to take such a momentous leap of faith, I had developed a medical condition that prevented conception. That was sad. It took me several years to make peace with the loss of that dream. Yet however wistfully I have viewed my childless state, I have never regretted not becoming a mother in my twenties: That would have been an unmitigated disaster for everyone involved! Nor have I ever thought human evolution has suffered from my failure to reproduce, since it has always been evident to me that what the world needs is greater investment in fewer people.
Not having one's own biological children is just that: the loss of a dream. Because it strikes me that the longing to become a parent is based on a kind of fantasy. In my dream, of course, my children would be healthy, attractive, intelligent, and moral. They would be perfected versions of myself. In my dream, I would be an exemplary mother: nurturing, stimulating, endlessly patient. Of course, with the hindsight of age, I can see that I would probably have been a well-meaning but highly imperfect parent. There is no guarantee that any child I might have had would have turned out to be either happy or successful. Furthermore, there is no guarantee that we would even have liked each other. Few of us are always grateful to our parents for conceiving us, the "gift of life" being the very mixed bag that it is. In fact, parents are fortunate if their children finally come to understand and appreciate the efforts that they made on their behalf.*
One colleague worries that her teenager is a "narcissist" who is "full of rage". We hasten to assure her that these unpleasant traits are part and parcel of normal adolescent development, and that he is bound to "grow out of it". Then, of course, I wonder, "But what if he doesn't?"
What if I had had a son who had turned out like Roosh, or Matt Forney, or any of the men who admire them? I have no reason to believe that their parents were any worse or better than most. While it is clear to me that these young men have been failed in some terrible ways, I do not assume the failure is their parents', or at least not exclusively their parents'.
Although these men are now adults, I imagine their families must be deeply disappointed and aggrieved to see their only sons, who started out in life so bright, shiny and full of promise, take such wrong turns.
I have given suck, and know
How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you
Have done to this.
--Lady Macbeth
_______________________________________________________________________
* Does the curious fact that the following poem by Philip Larkin was one of my mother's favorites hold some kind of key here?
They fuck you up, your mum and dad,
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were sloppy stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have have any kids yourself.
Yet the New Misogynists darkly warn young women to avoid the fate of spinsters like me, who wind up alone and unloved. Having failed to fulfill our biological destiny, we are almost worse than useless. I have even recently been described, without irony, as "barren", one of those portentous biblical terms (like "fornicate") the manosphereans like to fling about in a futile attempt at gravitas. It never fails to amuse me.
Like most women of my generation, I vaguely assumed that some day I would have a biological family -- when I was good and ready, that is. Unfortunately, by the time I was psychologically and financially prepared to take such a momentous leap of faith, I had developed a medical condition that prevented conception. That was sad. It took me several years to make peace with the loss of that dream. Yet however wistfully I have viewed my childless state, I have never regretted not becoming a mother in my twenties: That would have been an unmitigated disaster for everyone involved! Nor have I ever thought human evolution has suffered from my failure to reproduce, since it has always been evident to me that what the world needs is greater investment in fewer people.
Not having one's own biological children is just that: the loss of a dream. Because it strikes me that the longing to become a parent is based on a kind of fantasy. In my dream, of course, my children would be healthy, attractive, intelligent, and moral. They would be perfected versions of myself. In my dream, I would be an exemplary mother: nurturing, stimulating, endlessly patient. Of course, with the hindsight of age, I can see that I would probably have been a well-meaning but highly imperfect parent. There is no guarantee that any child I might have had would have turned out to be either happy or successful. Furthermore, there is no guarantee that we would even have liked each other. Few of us are always grateful to our parents for conceiving us, the "gift of life" being the very mixed bag that it is. In fact, parents are fortunate if their children finally come to understand and appreciate the efforts that they made on their behalf.*
One colleague worries that her teenager is a "narcissist" who is "full of rage". We hasten to assure her that these unpleasant traits are part and parcel of normal adolescent development, and that he is bound to "grow out of it". Then, of course, I wonder, "But what if he doesn't?"
What if I had had a son who had turned out like Roosh, or Matt Forney, or any of the men who admire them? I have no reason to believe that their parents were any worse or better than most. While it is clear to me that these young men have been failed in some terrible ways, I do not assume the failure is their parents', or at least not exclusively their parents'.
Although these men are now adults, I imagine their families must be deeply disappointed and aggrieved to see their only sons, who started out in life so bright, shiny and full of promise, take such wrong turns.
I have given suck, and know
How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you
Have done to this.
--Lady Macbeth
_______________________________________________________________________
* Does the curious fact that the following poem by Philip Larkin was one of my mother's favorites hold some kind of key here?
They fuck you up, your mum and dad,
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were sloppy stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have have any kids yourself.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Pharyngula Speaks on My Behalf
That notorious "white knight" and godless liberal PZ Myers has kindly agreed to champion this lady's reputation. For which she will always be grateful.
-- Cynthia Gockley AKA "La Strega"
-- Cynthia Gockley AKA "La Strega"
Monday, February 17, 2014
Why Misogyny is Unmanly
Antidote to the horrific crap I've been writing about for over a year: Why Misogyny is Unmanly.
Note to Self: Find more.
Note to Self: Find more.
A Public Service Announcement
Over here at Casa La Strega, we interrupt our regularly scheduled programming for a brief Public Service Announcement: Hey, kids, there is a reason that people of my generation used to scrawl "Speed Kills" on every wall and alleyway.
Now, personally, I've never used speed. Other than nicotine and caffeine, I've never gone in for stimulants. Maybe that's because I saw the devastating effect that amphetamines had on my mom. Like many housewives in the sixties, she was routinely prescribed "diet pills" by the family doctor. If you watch Mad Men, this unfortunate period in American medical history is accurately depicted in the Betty Draper storyline.
My mother under the influence of speed was terrifying to me as a child: I truly thought she was possessed. Somewhere I still have a drawing I made of her when I was seven or so, with lightening bolts shooting out of her eyes.
Routine use of amphetamines can render otherwise normal people paranoid, delusional, and grandiose. For someone who already demonstrates these characteristics in a non-medicated state, it is a lousy choice as a recreational drug.
What is an even more baffling choice is soliciting for this, or any other illegal drug, on Twitter. Just saying, man. Just say no!
Now, personally, I've never used speed. Other than nicotine and caffeine, I've never gone in for stimulants. Maybe that's because I saw the devastating effect that amphetamines had on my mom. Like many housewives in the sixties, she was routinely prescribed "diet pills" by the family doctor. If you watch Mad Men, this unfortunate period in American medical history is accurately depicted in the Betty Draper storyline.
My mother under the influence of speed was terrifying to me as a child: I truly thought she was possessed. Somewhere I still have a drawing I made of her when I was seven or so, with lightening bolts shooting out of her eyes.
Routine use of amphetamines can render otherwise normal people paranoid, delusional, and grandiose. For someone who already demonstrates these characteristics in a non-medicated state, it is a lousy choice as a recreational drug.
What is an even more baffling choice is soliciting for this, or any other illegal drug, on Twitter. Just saying, man. Just say no!
Saturday, February 15, 2014
And Yet We Outlive Men!
Over at the Inner Sanctum of Il Douche, "Scorpion" weighs in on a female writer I haven't heard about for decades. (Scorpion is an enthusiastic participant there, having posted over 1300 comments in three years.) Scorpion is in a state of high dudgeon over author Elizabeth Wurtzel. If you don't recognize the name, don't feel bad. Her
"She really is completely obsessed with herself," he fumes. And you know what, Scorpion? I couldn't agree more: Wurtzel is one female writer to whom the manosphere's favorite descriptors of women -- that they are "narcissistic" and "solipsistic" -- fairly apply.
I remember having a go at Prozac Nation when it was first published, while visiting my sister. She had thoughtfully left it on the night table for me as a little bedtime reading, but within the first chapter, I found myself disliking the author so much that I had to plod into the living room to find an old National Geographic to nod off to instead.
Scorpion continues: "Women literally go insane if they don't have the stability of a man in their life, or the purpose provided by motherhood. They just lose themselves in their own minds, overcome by their solipsism. Without a husband and children, the middle-aged and beyond a woman literally has no purpose for existence. She is just sort of there, consuming resources for her own enjoyment."
As I take in those last two lines, I take in the bitter reality of my own wasted life.
Because I have to admit, this has been one day like countless others when I haven't accomplished a damn thing beyond getting my nails done and making an impressive dent in the Valentine's Day chocolate my sweetie presented me with yesterday.
And I'm clean out of Prozac.
"This ultimately leads to extreme self-loathing, which this woman is undoubtedly experiencing... Once the last of her looks fade, she will literally be left with nothing but cats, wine and memories of her youthful whoredom."
It then occurs to me that a glass of blackberry wine would be just the thing to finish off my chocolate orgy. I'll first have to kick my way through a pack of sleeping hounds to reach the kitchen though:
"Another wasted life. Another victim of feminism."
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
I'll Admit I'm Kind of Impressed
Ironically, I am probably the only person who visited this blog this week who had not read Matt Forney's "justification" for doxxing me last Sunday. It took me a few days to summon the steel to do more than glance at it. I'm sure you can understand.
I have only just read it in its entirety tonight, and... and... Oh, how can I put this? I have to admit that he demonstrates an exceptional flair for... this particular kind of thing. (I'm not sure what to call it -- character assassination? I'm not being snarky BTW -- I'm absolutely sincere. If he weren't so emotionally crippled, he could be the Karl Rove of his generation.
I mean, Holy Moly! By the time I had finished reading, I was scared of myself. I'm not sure I come across as a narcissist, though -- more like a someone with severe Borderline Personality Disorder. I had to go back and read what I had written over the past year just to reassure myself that I was actually pretty lucid (at least most of the time).
What strikes me is how much effort Forney put into this. It must have taken him days, if not weeks, to compile. And none of those hours were compensated, not even at his modest advertised rates. In a way, it's a shame, because trying to make this thing "go viral" turned out to be a complete bust, and if he attempts to milk it further, he's really going to look desperate.
Not only do I expect that his fan base found the "expose" rather boring, but, on some level, the whole episode must have made some of them downright queasy. My rather white-bread, matronly mug probably reminded them of their own moms'. And something tells me that the last thing a typical Matt Forney reader wants to be reminded of is his mom.
Face it, 99.9% of the "manosphere" participate anonymously. How can they fail to acknowledge how vulnerable their identities are? This is not to be construed by any paranoiacs out there as a veiled threat BTW. If I have ever "doxed" anyone (this is Mr. Forney's justification for behavior that violates even the norms of his own community) it was not intentional and I have apologized and rectified the error.
See, I'll admit I'm kind of a dope about technology (blame age + lack of interest). I can barely operate the media console in my classroom! Obviously my own naivete contributed to my own doxing. Live and learn.
In closing, I must say it's been a strange and singular experience to see an image of myself planted at the foot of a manosphere blog home page, kind of like it would feel to unexpectedly glimpse myself in someone else's movie. The picture, BTW, was taken at a local restaurant a couple of years ago, at a birthday celebration. I recall that I was a little tired, but having a nice time with my friends. I'm grateful that I at least look pleasant. If he'd found my old faculty picture, everyone would think that I was an elderly Korean man on a bender.
I have only just read it in its entirety tonight, and... and... Oh, how can I put this? I have to admit that he demonstrates an exceptional flair for... this particular kind of thing. (I'm not sure what to call it -- character assassination? I'm not being snarky BTW -- I'm absolutely sincere. If he weren't so emotionally crippled, he could be the Karl Rove of his generation.
I mean, Holy Moly! By the time I had finished reading, I was scared of myself. I'm not sure I come across as a narcissist, though -- more like a someone with severe Borderline Personality Disorder. I had to go back and read what I had written over the past year just to reassure myself that I was actually pretty lucid (at least most of the time).
What strikes me is how much effort Forney put into this. It must have taken him days, if not weeks, to compile. And none of those hours were compensated, not even at his modest advertised rates. In a way, it's a shame, because trying to make this thing "go viral" turned out to be a complete bust, and if he attempts to milk it further, he's really going to look desperate.
Not only do I expect that his fan base found the "expose" rather boring, but, on some level, the whole episode must have made some of them downright queasy. My rather white-bread, matronly mug probably reminded them of their own moms'. And something tells me that the last thing a typical Matt Forney reader wants to be reminded of is his mom.
Face it, 99.9% of the "manosphere" participate anonymously. How can they fail to acknowledge how vulnerable their identities are? This is not to be construed by any paranoiacs out there as a veiled threat BTW. If I have ever "doxed" anyone (this is Mr. Forney's justification for behavior that violates even the norms of his own community) it was not intentional and I have apologized and rectified the error.
See, I'll admit I'm kind of a dope about technology (blame age + lack of interest). I can barely operate the media console in my classroom! Obviously my own naivete contributed to my own doxing. Live and learn.
In closing, I must say it's been a strange and singular experience to see an image of myself planted at the foot of a manosphere blog home page, kind of like it would feel to unexpectedly glimpse myself in someone else's movie. The picture, BTW, was taken at a local restaurant a couple of years ago, at a birthday celebration. I recall that I was a little tired, but having a nice time with my friends. I'm grateful that I at least look pleasant. If he'd found my old faculty picture, everyone would think that I was an elderly Korean man on a bender.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Death Wish?
-
Some men treat the red pill as a small dip in the pool, but I'm driving this submarine as deep as I can go until the window starts cracking.
Roosh
On Doxxing
Doxxing: a new word for a new social phenomenon. I was just reading an interesting article about it.
My students are always amazed when I tell them of the "old days" (when I was their age), before the age of personal computers and the internet. They simply cannot conceive that there was a time when people communicated by hand-written letters or expensive long-distance phone calls, when "self-publishing" involved mimeograph machines.
Who imagined back in the seventies that one day anyone could "publish" anything globally, instantaneously, and... anonymously?
Because of this, it has always been hard for me to wrap my head around the way people take "anonymity" for granted nowadays. I'm very ambivalent about it. I'm not sure if it's a positive social element. In fact, I've often sensed that, at least as it has been practiced on the internet recently, it can be downright pernicious. The freedom to say anything one damn well pleases without the risk of social disapprobation brings out the most careless and cowardly behavior. It divorces actions from consequences. (And yeah, I'm including myself here.)
I believe public discourse probably functions better when opinions are attached to real people.
What would happen to the "manosphere" if everyone was simultaneously and forcibly "doxxed" as I have been? How would they react if they had their names, their addresses and phone numbers, their work and sexual histories revealed and disseminated to the most hostile imaginable audience? Would these tough-talking guys just slink back into the woodwork, or would their "movement" finally evolve into a reality-based force for change? We'll probably never know, but I find it amusing to speculate.
I once had a conversation with the writer Joanne Greenburg, who published her first and most successful book, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, under the pseudonym "Hannah Green" in order to protect her parents' privacy. She told me that she regretted it, and that pseudonyms generally caused more trouble than they were worth.
If I were to do it over again, I must say that I would not have used a pseudonym. Of course, that means I might have been a mite more circumspect about the personal information I revealed! But on the other hand, maybe not. Truth is, I'm just getting too old to be very self-protective of my "image" or to present myself as anything other than what I am. Call me crazy, ugly, fat, old, barren (!) -- I really don't care, you're probably right, it just doesn't matter. See, I have pretty much lost all my vanity. There's a great deal of freedom, as well as time-honored patriarchal tradition, in becoming a shameless crone operating on the margins of polite society. That freedom is, perhaps, the greatest consolation of age. And it has ever been thus.
Roosh
Hmm... "above average in appearance"... Am I damned by faint praise here?
Ruin my reputation? I don't have a "reputation" to ruin. In fact, I am so completely inconsequential, so utterly without influence or public recognition, that even if you littered the internet with slander about me, no one would care one bit. I've been employed at the same institution for fifteen years, and the admin there already know I'm a mixed bag of nuts. And contrary to what Forney may believe, critical thinkers do "consider the source". Anyone whose opinion I care about is unlikely to give much weight to online attacks from noxious trolls.
The real mystery is why Matt Forney et al care what I say. After all, in their world, I have long outlived whatever usefulness I once served as a woman, and now hardly count as a human being at all. I reckon I'm about as much a threat to Matt Forney as a mosquito. A mosquito with bad knees, a full-time job, and a mortgage. Who lives on the opposite coast.
So life proceeds apace at Casa La Strega. After a flurry of hits on my blog (though I suspect no one hung around long enough to read anything, unfortunately), and a handful of inane, anonymous comments, nothing much is different. I awake each morning and find there are no flying monkeys circling my roof, after all. I go to school and plod, more or less cheerfully, through my daily grind, I make plans for Valentine's Day with my sweetie, I chuckle at the characterization of myself as "a dangerous narcissist" as I clean up dog poop, drive my neighbor's kids to school, pay utility bills.
My students are always amazed when I tell them of the "old days" (when I was their age), before the age of personal computers and the internet. They simply cannot conceive that there was a time when people communicated by hand-written letters or expensive long-distance phone calls, when "self-publishing" involved mimeograph machines.
Who imagined back in the seventies that one day anyone could "publish" anything globally, instantaneously, and... anonymously?
Because of this, it has always been hard for me to wrap my head around the way people take "anonymity" for granted nowadays. I'm very ambivalent about it. I'm not sure if it's a positive social element. In fact, I've often sensed that, at least as it has been practiced on the internet recently, it can be downright pernicious. The freedom to say anything one damn well pleases without the risk of social disapprobation brings out the most careless and cowardly behavior. It divorces actions from consequences. (And yeah, I'm including myself here.)
I believe public discourse probably functions better when opinions are attached to real people.
What would happen to the "manosphere" if everyone was simultaneously and forcibly "doxxed" as I have been? How would they react if they had their names, their addresses and phone numbers, their work and sexual histories revealed and disseminated to the most hostile imaginable audience? Would these tough-talking guys just slink back into the woodwork, or would their "movement" finally evolve into a reality-based force for change? We'll probably never know, but I find it amusing to speculate.
I once had a conversation with the writer Joanne Greenburg, who published her first and most successful book, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, under the pseudonym "Hannah Green" in order to protect her parents' privacy. She told me that she regretted it, and that pseudonyms generally caused more trouble than they were worth.
If I were to do it over again, I must say that I would not have used a pseudonym. Of course, that means I might have been a mite more circumspect about the personal information I revealed! But on the other hand, maybe not. Truth is, I'm just getting too old to be very self-protective of my "image" or to present myself as anything other than what I am. Call me crazy, ugly, fat, old, barren (!) -- I really don't care, you're probably right, it just doesn't matter. See, I have pretty much lost all my vanity. There's a great deal of freedom, as well as time-honored patriarchal tradition, in becoming a shameless crone operating on the margins of polite society. That freedom is, perhaps, the greatest consolation of age. And it has ever been thus.
Roosh
*Standing ovation*
This post now comes up #4 in a search for her name. The sad thing is I bet she is above-average looking compared to the other posters on manboobz.
This post now comes up #4 in a search for her name. The sad thing is I bet she is above-average looking compared to the other posters on manboobz.
Hmm... "above average in appearance"... Am I damned by faint praise here?
Ruin my reputation? I don't have a "reputation" to ruin. In fact, I am so completely inconsequential, so utterly without influence or public recognition, that even if you littered the internet with slander about me, no one would care one bit. I've been employed at the same institution for fifteen years, and the admin there already know I'm a mixed bag of nuts. And contrary to what Forney may believe, critical thinkers do "consider the source". Anyone whose opinion I care about is unlikely to give much weight to online attacks from noxious trolls.
The real mystery is why Matt Forney et al care what I say. After all, in their world, I have long outlived whatever usefulness I once served as a woman, and now hardly count as a human being at all. I reckon I'm about as much a threat to Matt Forney as a mosquito. A mosquito with bad knees, a full-time job, and a mortgage. Who lives on the opposite coast.
So life proceeds apace at Casa La Strega. After a flurry of hits on my blog (though I suspect no one hung around long enough to read anything, unfortunately), and a handful of inane, anonymous comments, nothing much is different. I awake each morning and find there are no flying monkeys circling my roof, after all. I go to school and plod, more or less cheerfully, through my daily grind, I make plans for Valentine's Day with my sweetie, I chuckle at the characterization of myself as "a dangerous narcissist" as I clean up dog poop, drive my neighbor's kids to school, pay utility bills.
Woman's Tales
Somehow I stumbled on an interesting series called "Woman's Tales" of which this is part.
Monday, February 10, 2014
An Early Childhood Memory
 | |||||
| Early portrait of a dangerous feminist | . |
"Don't step on the bee," my mother warns. "It will sting you."
I consider my mother's warning for a moment. Up to this point, I really haven't even thought about stepping on the bee, but now that I've been warned not to, I can hardly resist. I don't know yet what it feels like to be stung, and my curiosity outweighs my fear. I raise one fat, pink, bare foot over the bee and press down tentatively.
The bee stings me and I burst into tears.
My mother scoops me up, deposits me inside in my high chair, and removes the stinger with a pair of tweezers. "It was a bad bee," I wail. "Don't worry," my mother says grimly. "Now it's dead. Bees die once they lose their stingers." This information triggers a fresh volley of tears, as I am now filled with remorse over the fact that I have not only been hurt by, but have myself killed, another sentient creature, simply to satisfy my own relentless curiosity.
I share this memory with my girlfriend yesterday over a late lunch, and she rolls her eyes. "You haven't changed much, have you?" she says.
Indeed, I have trundled through my entire life recklessly squashing bees, and have sometimes regretted it. Fortunately, all the bees I've trod on have had very small stingers.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Too Bad I No Longer Smoke!
Because damn it, I used to love a cigarette with my morning coffee.
I'm just going to ask you to consider this: If someone were being "stalked" by a "dangerous narcissist" -- if he only suspected it -- wouldn't the rational response be to contact law enforcement authorities? Wouldn't it be rather irrational to instead write and promote a post that really is tantamount to a borderline libelous character assassination?
I think you know as well as I do that Mr. Forney is lying when he claims to be motivated by a need to "protect the public." And some of you must surely recognize that this was the action of a very little, very vindictive person.
I will quote another MRA on this issue:
"If there is a serious risk to the public the correct action is to call the authorities. Anyone with half a brain cell could tell you that is what responsible people do. They do not go onto their blog and give out any personal information on that person, hand their readers pitchforks and torches, and then expect any real justice to be served. The only thing that will come out of that course of action is the very real risk that someone will get hurt, or worse.
Could it be that AVFM never reported the Femetheist to the authorities because they know the authorities would not see her as any sort of risk to the public? Of course they did, and that is why they doxxed her so that their form of 'justice' can be exacted since the real world would never take their concerns seriously - because the cornerstone of western jurisprudence is that a person is innocent until proven guilty - in a court of law - not on the internets."
I'm just going to ask you to consider this: If someone were being "stalked" by a "dangerous narcissist" -- if he only suspected it -- wouldn't the rational response be to contact law enforcement authorities? Wouldn't it be rather irrational to instead write and promote a post that really is tantamount to a borderline libelous character assassination?
I think you know as well as I do that Mr. Forney is lying when he claims to be motivated by a need to "protect the public." And some of you must surely recognize that this was the action of a very little, very vindictive person.
I will quote another MRA on this issue:
"If there is a serious risk to the public the correct action is to call the authorities. Anyone with half a brain cell could tell you that is what responsible people do. They do not go onto their blog and give out any personal information on that person, hand their readers pitchforks and torches, and then expect any real justice to be served. The only thing that will come out of that course of action is the very real risk that someone will get hurt, or worse.
Could it be that AVFM never reported the Femetheist to the authorities because they know the authorities would not see her as any sort of risk to the public? Of course they did, and that is why they doxxed her so that their form of 'justice' can be exacted since the real world would never take their concerns seriously - because the cornerstone of western jurisprudence is that a person is innocent until proven guilty - in a court of law - not on the internets."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)