Isn't Baking Soda Just A Little Bit Beta?

Guess what the lead story was today on Return of Kings:

a.  5 Feminists Who Will Kill Your Boner
b.  5 Steps To Achieving Killer Abs
c.  5 Big Ass Books to Read Before You Die
d.  5 Surprising Uses For Baking Soda

It is really cute!  First the author, Mikael, assures his skeptical readers that he doesn't expect them to actually own any baking soda because  "Well women use [it] for baking, let’s get serious we’re men, we don’t bake, we go to the store. But being as men don’t generally bake, not every man has baking soda in their home as a bachelor, and you should."  

Re-read the previous passage and consider the following information:  Mikael has a B.A. in English Literature.  He even has his own blog, in which he writes about Education ("Learn More While Doing Less").  He even has a job that allows him to listen to his Ipod all day so that he can "multi-task" on his employer's dime time.  Pretty sweet.

All right, never mind the comma splices and run on sentences, Mikael's got some damn good tips about baking soda.  Of course, being a woman of advanced years, this wisdom has already been passed down to me over the ages through my mother and grandmother and about a bazillion newspaper fillers.

Anyway, in case, being a guy, you haven't considered baking soda since you constructed that volcano in fifth grade, baking soda has a number of possible uses:

1.  Deodorant

I'm not sure why someone would want to use baking soda as deodorant, but I suppose if you're stuck on the edge of the Empty Quarter, where soap, water, and basic grooming products are unavailable but where baking supplies (perversely) abound, and you don't mind the inevitable "grit factor," this works.  At least it works according to Roosh, who apparently dealt with this particular application in some length back in 2011 (I must have missed that essential pearl of Roosh wisdom).  "It is good to know in a pinch one always has options."  Indeed!

2.  Tooth Whitener

I've actually used baking soda as an ad hoc dentifrice now and then.  I've never been impressed with the results though, and it leaves a weird residue on your teeth.  Don't over do it, at any rate:  You don't want to grind off all your enamel.

3.  Mosquito Bite Treatment

"Mosquito's [sic] suck plain and simple."

Hmm...  I'm very allergic to mosquito bites, and in desperation have tried just about anything to alleviate the itch, including baking soda.  Unfortunately, I didn't find it any more effective than bleach, toothpaste, alcohol, or camomile lotion.  Icing followed by cortisone cream works best for me.  Better yet, avoid getting bitten in the first place.

4.  Refrigerator Deodorizer

"Let it absorb the stank [sic] of your horrendous cooking leftovers."  Wait a minute, I thought a real man doesn't cook (that's the second function of females) --. or else, when he does, he's a much better cook than any woman could hope to be.  I've actually wasted boxes of soda to prevent my frig from offending, but I find as with 4. (above), prevention (i.e., throwing away "stanky" food) is more effective than treatment.

5.  To Extinguish a Fire

"Just throw a whole boat load on it and boom, fire be gone."  

As someone who has started more than her share of grease fires over the years, unless it's a very small fire, you still need a portable fire extinguisher.  Or a Cosco-sized bag of baking soda.  Just sayin'.

There you have it.  Were you as "surprised" as I was?

Performance Anxiety

N.B.  It was only after I had posted the following that I found David Futrelle over at manboobz had coincidentally posted a response to the same topic. 
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Yesterday, I was in a tanning salon waiting my turn at one of the beds.  (I want to build up a little melanin before our trip to Mexico).  To my annoyance, all there was to read in the lobby was Cosmopolitan magazine, the one magazine I cannot stand to look at.

Although there was much to admire about Helen Gurley Brown, I have always detested Cosmopolitan.  Not only for the content, or lack thereof (since it is dedicated almost exclusively to the various Geisha like arts of pleasing men), but for its style (which, BTW, Nora Ephron skewered brilliantly in a piece for Esquire many years ago).  Brown stepped down in 1997, but the magazine only seems to have gotten more obsessively focused on the need for women to cater to men in the bedroom, with shameless headlines screaming "Tease Him and Please Him!" "Foreplay Men Crave!" and "His Butt."  Every issue features at least one article on how to gratify men sexually.  Cuz these days the way to a man's heart is through advanced fellatio technique. 

So it was surprising to read over at ROK that "You've probably noticed that most women haven't got the tiniest interest in pleasing us.  The large majority of women believe that getting naked and allowing us to stab their insides with our manly part is pretty much all they have to do when it comes to having sex."  Well, you can't blame Cosmopolitan for not trying!

The article, by someone who calls himself Alex "The Player" Matlock, invites readers to identify the type of bad sex that they are (probably not) having.   He believes it is important for the Rooshites to know this because it's only "fair" and "natural" and besides, "Judging is important because it allow us to understand exactly what it is that we want from a sexual encounter."  Ah, if wishes were horses...!

Who is Alex Matlock and why should men listen to him?  According to his website, Mr. Matlock is working on his PHD -- and he spells it like that, all in caps -- in Social Psychology.  He chose Social Psychology because he thought it would help him understand women better.  He even shared a flat with three girls once, not to "bang" them, but to deepen his knowledge of the feminine psyche.

Although he assures us that he has "banged a lot of chicks," he has found that most of their performances fall short of the mark.  And because Roosh and his ilk love lists (also tables, graphs, flowcharts, and diagrams), Matlock methodically lists the five types of women in order of most (1) to least disappointing (5).

1. The one that tries too much (aka The Disaster) 

This girl is guilty of trying too hard. She moves out of sync [because the guy establishes the tempo, presumably].   She has the highest percentage of male genitalia injury [sic], breaks condoms, and makes guys lose their boners. That’s just one more reason to avoid “taking advantage” of heavily inebriated women. Why do I suspect the sarcasm quotes to be Roosh's touch?

2. The one that’s scared (aka The Virgin) 

I thought these guys wanted sweet, inexperienced girls?  But the so-called virgin is just scamming a fellow.  She makes a guy feel guilty by acting as though she doesn't know what she's doing.  Plus she only allows penetration in the missionary position.

3. The one that doesn’t move (aka The Starfish or The Doll)

Matlock suggests that because she doesn’t do anything that disrupts the actual lovemaking... she will probably have many more orgasms than #1 and #2 simply because she lets the man do his thing.  Matlock rates such women as "average" in the performance department.  And I rate Matlock's understanding of what makes a woman orgasm "below average."

4. The one that does something (aka The Girlfriend) 

Experienced enough to "put a smile on your face."
5.  The Pornstar
The ultimate girlfriend experience.  (Probably a regular Cosmo reader.)

Is it my imagination, or can I feel the editorial hand of Roosh in every piece that is posted to ROK?  Like Helen Gurley Brown and Hugh Hefner, his persona infuses everything.  But Roosh is no Hugh Hefner, and the glory days of magazines like Playboy and Cosmopolitan, which were once the authorities on How To Perform One's Sex, are over.  The only reason they linger on is that the one thing that doesn't seem to change is the sexual performance anxiety many young men and women suffer from.

And here's a picture of the author with two "chicks."  Not surprisingly, he's selling PUA too.

Alex Matlock is an expert in dating and woman psychology. This is the sort of stuff he discusses on his blog and in the free eBook he gives out. If you want to increase your success with women, visit ThePlayerGuide.com - a place where the dating mindset is thrown out the window in favor of more direct and fruitful methods of meeting and seducing women.

My Message to Incels

A commenter on Manboobz shared a link to a documentary called "Shy Boys," in which the director, Sara Gardephe, interviews several "Incels" (involuntary celibates).  Because Incels tend to be ready "converts" to Game, I watched it with interest.

The fact that most of the young men describe themselves as "ugly" is really striking to me because, really, none of them are.  In fact, I thought the long-haired dude was quite pretty in a rock star way.  Yet they blame their lack of success with women primarily on an imaginary defect in their own physical appearance.  Of course, girls do that too, and to such a degree that we hardly notice.  I don't remember boys being so self-critical in the past, however.  I am sad to see men starting to share women's neuroses about their looks.  Body dysmorphia is a form of equality I don't welcome.

As for their disgust of female genitalia, it reminded me of Victorian art critic John Ruskin, famously unable to consummate his marriage because he was so horrified by the sight of his beautiful bride's genitals.   

Somehow I cannot judge these boys too harshly.  Truth be told, I've never been enamored with the sight of my own bits, and recall how unpleasant I found it when a Nurse Practitioner insisted I examine my own cervix with the aid of a mirror, speculum, and flashlight.  Working in an abortion clinic, I saw hundreds of vulvas, of course, and I gradually lost my revulsion to my own.  So my first Rx for these troubled lads is more exposure to real women and less porn.  

I cannot even be too hard on the way the Incels in the documentary refer to "fat girls" as scraping the bottom of the barrel in the sexual marketplace.  They are simply parroting what the entire culture is teaching us, so why should we expect them to challenge the standards of the day?  It takes self-confidence to buck the system.  I refused to date fat boys when I was an undergrad even though (or because) I weighed 170# myself.  Being discriminated against did not make me compassionate or tolerant -- the opposite, in fact. 

Was I so different from these guys at the same age?  As a teenager, I would go six weeks without speaking to anyone.  I was so shy that some days I simply couldn't muster the courage to go to school, instead whiling away the hours sitting alone in parks or aimlessly riding buses.  One day, when I was about seventeen, I realized "This won't do," and started to force myself out into the world.  But it took many more years before I overcame my almost crippling shyness, and I only managed to do so by acts of will, challenging myself with activities that caused me the greatest degree of manageable anxiety.  

I finally figured out that my self-consciousness was basically egocentrism.   I found that the more I attended to another person, the less "shy" I was.  Perhaps it was this realization that drew me towards work where I had to perform service for others.  In a professional role, I could finally let go of myself.

I still remind myself, when I feel the old social awkwardness and anxiety creeping up, to focus, focus on the other person.  Ask questions.  Then listen.  Reflect on what he/she is saying.  Get over yourself!

Ironically, "game" is probably the worst way for these fellows to overcome their issues.  I wish I could share this with Incels.

Finally A Country That Will Appreciate Roosh!

Having soured on the Romanian scene, Roosh announced he will shortly be landing in Moldova.

Moldova is the poorest country in Europe, with 80% of the population living below the poverty line.  It is known for its excellent wine, high crime rate, systemic corruption, and staggering rate of prostitution.  According to one source, the poverty in Moldova is so acute that two out of three Moldovan women resort to prostitution at some point in their lives.  Moldova, not surprisingly, is a prime source of women sold into sex trafficking.  (If you are interested, PBS Frontline did a documentary last year about this -- but I warn you, it is heart breaking.)

In other words:  lots of young, thin, blonde, desperate women to be had for pennies on the dollar.   It should be Roosh's idea of "poosy paradise."

One caveat, Roosh:  Moldova also has one of the highest rates of antibiotic resistant infections in the world.  So don't forget to wash your, uhm, hands.

Roosh: PUA Most Likely to Join the Taliban

Roosh hasn't been having so much fun in Romania lately.  Fortunately, out of hardship and suffering, great insights are born.  Roosh has been pondering The True Nature Of Women, and he is now ready to share some of his Deep Thoughts.

"Water takes the shape of the container it fills."  This is the metaphor Roosh has chosen to illustrate how women adapt to the cultures they live in.  He is so captivated by this "water for women" metaphor that he repeats it over and over.  And over.  (Be warned:  Roosh's habit of repeating inane metaphors is likely to trigger a migraine in sensitive readers.)

Roosh, as he frequently reminds his readers, is "a man of science" (that is, he has a B.S. from the University of Maryland with a biology major), so he certainly must know as much about the properties of H20 as he does about women.

"I believed the properties of water were in part tied to its location, that water from the East could mimic by only a small degree water from the West, but never be just like it. I was less experienced when I had this belief, for now I know better. Water that has been boiled into steam still has the molecular properties of water, and once the atoms cool down, it will readily take up its more familiar form."

Doesn't that sound like something Sheldon might say on "The Big Bang Theory?"  I mean, if Sheldon were a really angry and delusional misogynist?

Anyway, Roosh moves on to prove his theory in singular Rooshian fashion by explaining how, after years of lauding Poland, he was dismayed to find the girls of Warsaw to be as wickedly self-involved as the girls of Toronto (and they are the worst, as you may recall).  Fortunately, a short train ride away from the capital took him back to the land of the sweetest, most feminine, and reliable women an armchair sex tourist could dream of.  Away from the corrupting influence of the big city, Polish women retain their more pleasing genetic qualities.  

Cuz the "container" (i.e., the city) "shapes" "the water." 

Got it?  Good.

This theory has been challenged in Romania, however. 

Even in Cluj, which Roosh describes as a second-tier city, "No girl in Cluj asked me to buy her a drink, but two girls yelled at me. One because I didn’t move from her “spot” in the bar and another for a trivial reason that I forgot as soon as her neck cocked back and forth while yelling at me like she was a black American girl. What caused them to get so angry at me when no girl in Bucharest or Iasi have [sic] even given me a sneer?"

I'm not sure, Roosh.  Maybe because in a small city club, you stuck out more as an outsider and an interloper?  Maybe because you wandered into a dyke bar by mistake?  Maybe because you believe believe "yelling" is something "black American girls" do?   There are so many possible reasons for a woman to yell at you, I can hardly begin to speculate.

Roosh finally concludes that the girls in Cluj enjoy such "a surplus of men from all over Europe" that they have been allowed to get away with being rude to strange men.  Because in Roosh's mind, all women should defer to their social betters (= men, especially Roosh).  Can't they recognize a returned king when they see one?

Then Roosh muses, "Would a girl display a single negative trait if it prevented her from finding a good man or living a comfortable life?"  (The short answer to that is: Yes! Yes, she would!)

 "Water takes the shape of the container it fills."

So you have (already) told us.

"I appeared on four separate Romanian TV channels, soaking in local fame, trying to get easy lays. I was recognized more times in the ensuing two months than I ever have in Washington DC. When a girl stared at me, I wasn’t sure why she was looking, but I hoped it was because she knew of me, and it would help get into her pants as in the fashion of American celebrity culture. Very early on I get a big surprise—girls who knew of me and my writing played some of the hardest, most lethal game I’ve seen in my life. One girl stood me up. Another was testing me to the point of frustration, as kind as I was to her. Another tried to put words in my mouth, serving up challenges when I wasn’t doing the same. And then I would meet a girl who did not know me, often in the same venue, and she would be the nicest girl in the world, not unlike my first experience in Poland. I have no doubt that the girls who acted bitchy to me would be sweet to the next guy that came along afterwards, suggesting there was a sort of switch that women could flick depending on the circumstance they found themselves in and the man they were meeting." 

I hate to say I told you so, but didn't I warn you that Romanian "celebrity" was going to be a double edged sword?   There you are on television, announcing to your hosts your intent to "game" the local women, and you're surprised that the women who recognize you decide to turn the table?  Why does it surprise you that women dislike being conned, manipulated, or "played" as much as men do?  

For ten years, Roosh has done everything he can do to Be A Somebody.  In the process, he has tossed away his education, his family, his cultural heritage, and his professional prospects.  He has squandered peak years, when he could have been building a meaningful career and emotionally intimate relationships, in order to bask in the admiration of adolescent boys (of various ages). It has got to burn.

As for that peculiar "switch" women have, that mystifying ability to go from "nice" to one fellow to "bitchy" to the next?  Hmm...  Is it possible they just don't like you, and the more they know about you (via all those TV appearances), the less they like you?

"Water takes the shape of the container it fills."

Yeah, yeah, enough with the water / container.

Roosh is bitter now, now that he realizes "Every woman on this planet, regardless of her education or background, [harbors an inner]  bitch, a cunt, a slut, a golddigger, a flake, a cheater, a backstabber, a narcissist, and an attention whore that is dying to get out and that, if certain conditions arise and she is placed in a certain container at a certain temperature, will thrust her worst upon you, and this, I’m afraid, is the true nature of women."  Furthermore, even the most angelic woman is hiding inner excrement; she is a dormant volcano waiting to unleash harm.

The solution Roosh offers to his fellow misogynists:  Society needs to start putting constraints, limitations, and shackles on women's unbridled freedom of behaviors and choices by force, through application of law or shaming.

Wait a minute!  Where have I heard all this before?

I give you Daryush "Roosh" Valizadeh: The PUA most likely to join the Taliban.


"Water takes the shape of the container it fills."

"Water takes the shape of the container it fills."
 
"Water takes the shape of the container it fills."

"Water takes the shape of the container it fills."

(No matter how often you repeat that, it still sounds lame.)

Whatever Happened To...?

Whatever happened to the Feminist Victim Fund that Roosh set up?  It's been over a month since any commented over there.  Have they reached their mark?  Did they even raise a dime?  Or did everyone lose interest, like, immediately?

I wanted to ask over at Manboobz but they were busy talking about real victims (of the tornado) and I didn't want to seem like a completely insensitive jerk.

Is Evil Crazy?

Yesterday on Manboobz, a new commenter was called out for dismissing MRAs as "crazy."  Her feelings got hurt, and she flounced off the board, which was a shame, because it could have been a great learning moment for her.  It certainly was for me.

For one reason, it reminded me of how pejorative the word "crazy" is, and I should know.  I recently "unfriended" an acquaintance who had commented on Facebook (and I paraphrase here) that I needed to get my head examined before I lost my medical insurance.  Yeah, it hurt my feelings.  And also, was that ever a case of the pot calling the kettle black.  

Suffice to say, I am hardly a paragon of mental health myself.  I struggle with chronic depression and anxiety, and sometimes my girlfriend warns me that I am "going off the deep end."  I have more than a touch of OCD, and have been medicated for panic attacks on occasion. Overall, however, given the genetic hand I was dealt, the circumstances I grew up in, and some of the god-awful choices I have made, I have managed pretty well so far.  But I digress...  

My point here is that I know firsthand that to disparage people who suffer from mental disorders is cruel and unfair.  I know that the vast majority of people with psychiatric diagnoses do not commit crimes and do not intentionally hurt other people.  I know that psychiatry cannot fully address the nature of "evil," nor is psychiatric treatment in itself a solution.

The kerfuffle at Manbooz yesterday, as well as a brief exchange with Zosimus the Heathen (see comments), also made me reflect on how the language we use not only expresses, but shapes, our thoughts.  It was one of my favorite discussion topics in graduate school.  Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, anyone?

Spiritually, I would have to describe myself as a skeptic.  While I enjoy attending church, and often derive sustenance from it, I am not a Believer.  I sometimes envy others their faith even as I soundly reject their attempts to instill it in me.  I don't have a personal conflict with this.  When it comes to religion, I have zero interest in converting anyone else to my point of view.  Indeed, I deeply love and respect a number of people (including My Most Beloved) who happen to find comfort and guidance in what I personally consider a lot of hooey.   

However, my lack of belief in supernatural causality does run me aground when it comes to the concept of "evil."  I have found myself labeling much of what I read in the manosphere as "evil."   And I think I need to look at this habit, which is a kind of intellectual "shortcut," a lot more carefully.  What do I mean when I call Roosh or JudgyBitch or Paul Elam "evil" people?

James Knoll, a psychiatrist, recently posted in Medscape:

What most of us label as evil is, in the final analysis, extreme selfishness.  When we lack a clear understanding of something that frightens us, we call it "evil," which temporarily allays our anxiety. Our nerves settled, we believe we have become clear about the nature of the problem, and then we may go about defending ourselves against the "other" we have just created. But this defensive posture may all too easily transition into a preemptive strike -- the result of projecting onto the "other" the aspects of our own psyches that we hate or fear the most.  That a killer considers his self-centered interests more important than your life is not due to some supernatural evil force; it is simply supremely egoistic...  [italics mine]

If anything keeps me kicking, it's the way life continues to remind me that I have so much yet to learn.