Aspiring PUAs Watch Out

Garfunkel and Oates have got your number (and the bimbos they lust after).  Could these girls be cuter?

Welcome Oh Warrior Princess!

Anyway...  That these issues are being raised for scrutiny and debate is a positive step, I suppose, even if it feels like kicking over a rock.  Exposing the depth and breadth of misogyny is the first step in eradicating it.  

Twenty years ago I accompanied my ex and his children to Disneyland, and I hated almost every single minute of it.  (To be fair to Walt and his "imagineers," my misery had less to do with the park and more to do with the relationship.)  At one point, sobbing bitterly on a bench under the entrance banner that read "The Happiest Place on Earth," I looked up to see a small throng of Japanese tourists taking my picture.  So at least the opportunity for an ironic picture was not lost.

Anxious to escape the heat and glare, I agreed to ride through "Pirates of the Caribbean" with eight year old Suzanne.  "This is my favorite ride," Suzanne confided.  "Except for this part..."  she added sotto voce, as we bobbed into a tableau of drunk, lusty brigands seizing a struggling young maid with lecherous intent (ignoring the fat, blowsy blonde who was clearly disappointed not to be raped herself).

Suzanne closed her eyes tightly until we had passed through this scene.  "I wish that part wasn't there," she reiterated.  "Otherwise, it would be the perfect ride."  I had to agree, but it took a child to remind me of what I had always known, yet had somehow learned not to see:  Sexual assault isn't funny and it isn't fun.   It's scary and degrading, and even a small girl knows that it could really happen to her if she is careless (or merely unlucky).

Rape culture means that there is no direction in which a little girl can gaze without being reminded of the vulnerability her sex imposes, not even on a kiddie ride.  

Clearly, a number of people besides Suzanne and me didn't like watching animatronic pirates violating animatronic wenches, and these people weren't just humorless feminists, either: plenty of disgruntled dads complained too.  Under considerable consumer pressure -- and much to the chagrin of certain guys-who-just-don't-get-it -- Disneyland and Disneyworld removed the "sexual slavery" element from the attraction a few years ago. So now Suzanne can take her own daughter on "the best ride ever," and neither will have to squeeze her eyes shut for any of it...

This week I've been following with dismay the abuse Twittered upon Lindy West following her televised debate with comedian Jim Norton.  To be fair, Norton is not egging his fans on.  He seems genuinely concerned about the issues that were raised -- even if he's not willing to concede (yet) that misogyny is bad for comedy.  What is clear in his twitters is that he doesn't want to be a Bad Guy, but he doesn't want to be seen as "backing down" either.  To which I would echo Ms. West in asking him, On which side of history to you wish to stand?

How anyone could deny the existence of "rape culture" in the wake of the comments left by scores of anonymous white doods... is beyond me.  I mean really fellas:  You deny "rape culture" exists by claiming some women are too ugly to rape?  You disagree with someone, so you describe in some detail how you'd like to impale her on a spit?  You don't want women to think you're rapists, so you conjure up images of the most grotesque and sadistic fantasy? 

Yet sometimes the anger and hate really overwhelm me.  After all, there are real men behind those threatening pseudonymous comments, and chances are that some of them are moving through the same public spaces as I am.  That's damn scary if you think about it.  (Which is, of course, exactly how they want women to feel.)   So when I read today that Kristin Beck, a former Navy Seal, has come out as a trans woman, I was, well, thrilled.  I for one welcome some real warrior princesses on "Team Femme!"   

 

You Say You Want A Revolution...

If you're as old as I am, you can probably remember where you were the day John Lennon was shot.  I was alone, in a bathtub in Genoa.  I started to cry so uncontrollably that I aspirated water, and wound up performing a self-administered Heimlich maneuver by hauling my sobbing, dripping carcass over the edge of the tub.  Not pretty!   

Anyway, sometimes when I read these manosphere guys I find myself thinking about John Lennon, and about his personal evolution, tragically cut short, from self-confessed wife-beater to a kind of proud Uber Beta Man, and of the following song in particular.  Note that this version, which is laid-back-to-the-point-of-lethargic, is an early "out-take."

You say you want a revolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
You tell me that it's evolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction
Don't you know that you can count me out
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
All right, all right

You say you got a real solution
Well, you know
We'd all love to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution
Well, you know
We're doing what we can
But when you want money
For people with minds that hate
All I can tell is brother you have to wait
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
All right, all right
Ah

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah...

You say you'll change the constitution
Well, you know
We all want to change your head
You tell me it's the institution
Well, you know
You better free your mind instead
But if you go carrying pictures of chairman Mao
You ain't going to make it with anyone anyhow
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
All right, all right
All right, all right, all right
All right, all right, all right

Punctuation is Misandry!

Over at Captain Capitalism, a rave review of Roosh V.'s new compendium The Best of Roosh, Part I.

First of all, Capt. Cap warns other self-publishing entrepreneurs that "until I get counter reviews, the book reviews will be limited to a tit for tat mutually beneficial relationship."  Ah, so that's how "peer review" works in the manosphere!

In defense of Roosh, whose self-editing tends to be as haphazard as his personal grooming, The Captain asserts that he, personally, likes the typos.  In fact, the more of 'em, the better! 

 I'm taking a religious stance with this in that I believe men are sick and tired of the predominantly female-dominated publishing/correcting-ones-english-at-the-expense-of-ideas industry.  I truly believe that with online publishing proper grammar will finally be ranked below "ideas and content" as it should have always been until academian charlatans came in insisting their knowledge of "dangling participles" was more important than pioneering lines of thought.  The more and more typos I see, overshadowed by intelligence, innovation, creativity, and just plain cleverness, the better for the publishing industry and readers.

I didn't realize until now that careful proof-reading compromised the creative expression of men's "ideas."  Now I see how I have been not only stifling, but indeed virtually castrating, my male students by insisting that they learn to observe the conventions of "academian" English.  For years, I've been trying to persuade them that "proper grammar" would strengthen their power to persuade readers, but am now chagrined to learn that I had it all ass-backwards.

This is why I cannot fear the New Misogynists.

And also because of this:

Roosh ‏@rooshv 26 May

The Best Of Roosh has been downloaded 3,250 times. 136 of you purchased it. :)

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Is Matt Forney a Closeted FA?

I ran across this graph right after making the mistake of reading a "fat rant" by Matt Forney.  For a guy who professes to find fat women repulsive, he sure spends a lot of time fulminating about them.

I'm perplexed by the obsession with fat girls.  I don't find extreme obesity attractive or "healthy" either, but I don't find the people who suffer from this to be "undeserving of love" or deserving of abuse ("shaming," "shunning").  Nor did it stop me from falling madly in love with a guy who was once pushing 400 lbs (he's slimmed down considerably since, courtesy of two bouts of oral cancer).  I've never thought it was my mission in life to persuade prospective sexual partners to eat less (unless, perhaps, we were sharing a pizza LOL).  Nor do I begrudge my thin friends their svelte physiques (unless we're browsing the sales racks together).

My "fatness" is my personal issue.  It's between my doctor and me -- and a handful of intimates in whom I choose to confide.  Unless some random stranger is forced to sit next to me on a crowded plane, I fail to see why my girth affects him in any real way.

If it's a matter of his being offended aesthetically, well boo-hoo.  I'm potentially "offended" every single day I venture out in public:  I happen to think anyone over the age of eighteen who wears a baseball cap looks like a moron.  I am not a fan of the shaved head + goatee look either.  I loathe clothing with logos on it.  Public spitting turns my stomach.  And don't get me started about all the truly terrible writing I have to read!  

For the most part, I try to ignore these affronts to my delicate sensibilities because (1) they're trivial, and (2) otherwise I would be in a chronic state of rage -- and that's just not a place where I want to live (not to mention it's worse for one's heart than cheerfully schlepping around an extra fifty pounds).

The fact that Matt Forney and his readers don't want to fuck women who look like me isn't really a problem for any of us, is it?  In fact, if my rotund body actively and magically repels them, it's kind of a plus in my book.

Look, kiddos, let me lay it on you:  No person is obligated to be physically attractive to another person.  You are not "owed" a supermodel girlfriend despite what television commercials have been teaching you.  The sooner you get this reality through your noggins, the better off you'll be.  The only body a person gets to control is his/her own -- and even then, not always (see cancer, above).

Perhaps the crux of the issue is that misogynists don't recognize women's personal autonomy.  In their infantile minds, every woman is put on the earth for the sole purpose of pleasing them.  It's a little bit narcissistic, wouldn't you say?   

Still, the way they natter on about how teh fat kills their boners!  Although they claim that they enjoy joking about fat women, they don't seem to be having much fun with it.  Indeed, the topic sends them into paroxysms of rage.

And what really enrages them is that when they do decide to "bang" a fat chick (out of sheer desperation, apparently), those "ugly bitches" don't want to be banged by them.  How dare an "imperfect female" reject them!  How dare anuglyfatchick have any standards of her own?

It seems like Mr. Forney spends an awful lot of time haunting the "fatshionista" blogs and stewing about the fact that a lot of these young women manage to have some well-documented sexy fun despite their excess poundage.  Personally, I love seeing a fat girl rocking a bikini.  That is not because I think all fat girls should wear bikinis, or because every fat girl turns me on (some do / some don't), but because, well, why the hell shouldn't she? 

Self-acceptance and self-confidence do not encourage people to be fat.  Probably the opposite is truer.  People who like themselves tend to be more active and socially engaged, as well as more tolerant and compassionate of others. 

And I am willing to lay odds that if Forney and Friends tried to publicly "shame" these girls they would be met with great belly laughs of derision.  Personally, if someone jeered or tried to humiliate me within my earshot, in a bar or a club or anywhere but from a fast-moving vehicle, they'd get a dose of their own medicine. 

Some people speculate that Forney is a closeted gay.  I don't know about that, but I'm beginning to wonder if he isn't a closeted FA. (That's "Fat Admirer" in BBW circles, a subculture I suspect Matt Forney is already quite familiar with). 

Anyway, I stole the graphic from Helen Boyd's En/gender site.  I used to read her blog faithfully and participate in the forum, but after a while, suffering from "trans ally fatigue," I fell away.  I am now adding her to my blog roll as a personal reminder to check in more often.  I am so annoyed that I missed her recent trip to my city.  I would have enjoyed going to the event.

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. 
_________________________________________________________________

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.