A Man I Love: Steve Shives

Courtesy of "carnation," a commenter on Manboobz, two videos by Steve Shives:

While the MRM has predicted it's quickly reaching a tipping point, poised to go "mainstream" and become a real force for social change, this is what is happening instead:  vigorous pushback from... well, men:  serious men (that is, men to take seriously).

I know I've said I don't care for baseball caps on grown men, but for Mr. Shives, I'll make an exception.  In fact, I'd love to buy this guy a drink right now!

ROK: A Kinder, Gentler Place?

Roosh V is "on hiatus," his exact whereabouts unknown.  Maybe he's in Moldova learning the fine art of gun-running.  He is definitely casting about for his next scam.  

Meanwhile, is it just my imagination, or is Roosh V's "other blog," Return of Kings, becoming a kinder, gentler place?  It seems to be filling up with articles about how to set up a "bachelor" kitchen, healthy eating "on the run," the joys of the great outdoors, and the relative merits of "soylent" as a food substitute.  One today exhorted readers to quit whining about their jobs and start using their leisure time more fruitfully!  Plus a very idiosyncratic list of coma-inducing songs that are supposed to be conducive to lovemaking (see David Futrelle's take on that one.

Even Matt Forney recently devoted an entire post to the art of shaving using mineral oil instead of shaving cream (which believe- you-me I read with interest).  Of course the comments section is another matter entirely...  Tread there at your own peril. 

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.