antifeminism citation needed fidelbogen grandiosity MGTOW misogyny MRA oppressed men patriarchy straw feminists twitter woman's suffrage

Fidelbogening while the world burns

Fidelbogen: Even creepier after being run through Photoshop.
Fidelbogen: Even creepier after being run through Photoshop.

We’re having Fidelbogen for lunch again. In my defense, the Twitter feed of this self-proclaimed philosopher of the non-feminist sector is hands down the most consistently entertaining thing in the manosphere today. In today’s post, Fidey opines on Women’s Suffrage (neither good nor bad), feminist “exit strategies,” and why it’s not necessary for MRAs to offer any evidence when they argue with feminists.

Without further ado, let’s go Fidelbogening!

So what do we learn from his Twitter feed this month? Well, for one thing, that whole “oppression” thing women have been complaining about is all a big fairy tale.

And that “women having the right to vote” thing? Just some sort of dumb fad.

Apparently feminism has really big boobs:

And after collapsing under the weight of its own boobage, feminism had better skeedaddle, if Fidey has any say in the matter:

Here he explains the behavior of a lot of the MRAs who visit the comments here (and pretty much everywhere):

And here he explains his own methodology, I guess:

Here he tests the boundaries of incoherence:

But what do I know? Maybe the only reason he doesn’t make any sense at all to me is that I’m a dirty feminist.

But then again, I guess anyone can be a feminist, because apparently feminism means anything anyone wants it to mean.

Huh. So if I want, feminism can be a kitty? This kitty?


Oh, wait, I guess not, because apparently feminists are no good at defining feminism.

Fidelbogen certainly has a lot of novel definitions for feminism.

It’s gangrene!

It’s cancer!

It’s an attempt to exonerate women from all wrongdoing!

It’s a paradigm that apparently skipped lunch!

It’s … a car, I guess, that runs on male tears, and is lubricated by lies!

(Ok, I made up the male tears bit.)

Anway, Fidey is having none of it. Just say deedly-doodly-no!

Excelsior, Fidelbogen! And, please, please keep Tweeting.

196 replies on “Fidelbogening while the world burns”

Re: comment upthread about MRAs seeming to be in a double bind related to “masculinity” — duh. Strict gender roles put everyone in a double bind, which is what feminists have been trying to point out for years.

God, I need some brain-bleach with that video. Seriously – these guys need to get the fuck over themselves. Always with the false equivalence and dismissing the mistreatment of others on some utterly obtuse logic. “Why don’t they mention all the good moments in their day?” It’s called Everyday Sexism – that’s the point!

It’s also telling he thinks the story about the bar is made up ’cause, hey, no drunk guy has ever inappropriately groped or harassed women in such a place! But, of course, “maybe” she wanted to get groped. Stay classy, you assholes!

Okay, I’m going to watch videos of kittens playing with a Guinea Pig now:

Ah, there we go…

saintnick – it’s okay, “Dan Cardamon” is a parody character, he’s sending up MRAs and their shit (note the mention of Scented Fucking Candles – he reads this blog). He’s the guy who does Some Grey Bloke.

Sorry, the writer is the Some Grey Bloke creator; it’s an actor doing the video.

THIS IS SO FUNNY! I went and read the entire review Forney gave to “the red pill”, and here it is:

1.0 out of 5 stars Flat, hackneyed and excruciating July 16, 2013
By Matthew Forney
Amazon Verified Purchase
It hurts me somewhat to say this, because I know Patton somewhat and am on the same page as him ideologically, but this is one of the worst books I’ve ever read. He intended it as an introduction to the “red pill” and the “manosphere,” a corner of the Internet focused on helping men reclaim their masculinity and lead fulfilling lives, but it’s so poorly written that it almost makes me want to become a feminist.

Problem one with the Red Pill is that the writing is sloppy and bland. Here’s the very first paragraph from the first chapter:

“He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, and he couldn’t go more than thirty seconds without thinking about Natalie and how much he loved her. She meant everything. She was the sun, the moon, the stars, and the air he breathed. But Natalie didn’t love him anymore and Andrew just wanted to roll over and die. He didn’t realize until she dumped him how much his world revolved around her and now that she was gone his suffering seemed immeasurable.”

Because THAT’S what life is like when you haven’t taken the red pill yet! You’re entire life completely revolves around an EVIL woman! And of course everyone thinks of love in terms of the loved one being all kinds of celestial entities.

The entire novel reads like this: neverending run-on sentences, repetitive, brain-dead cliches and a fourth-grade vocabulary.

Second problem with this book is that the characterization is terrible. The characters in this book aren’t one-dimensional, they’re no-dimensional. There’s not a single bit of nuance or meaningful development among them. The good guys, like Andrew and his magical alpha mentor Adam, are saintly and heroic; the villains, such as Andrew’s roommate Joe and his sister Tracy, are stupid, snotty, lazy and entitled.

Our story begins with our intrepid hero reeling from a bad breakup. Having discovered his girlfriend Natalie sleeping with every man within a five mile radius, Andrew decides to kill himself out of grief.

Because ALPHA COCK CAROUSEL she couldn’t just cheat with one guy! And without the red pill, it’s impossible not to think of moustache-twirling (well, if they had a moustache) villain bitches as celestial bodies and go kill oneself over them.

And despite having only known him for a few pages, I was praying for him to go through with it. The characterization is so flat and Manichean it’s unbelievable; even after Natalie and her father steal half his things when they get her stuff from their apartment (which comes after he threatens to kill Andrew if he goes near her again),

It must be FEMINISM which has taught fathers to be overprotective of their evil scheming moustache-twirling villain daughters and STEAL THEIR EXES’ STUFF!

he still begs her to come back to him. PROTIP to aspiring novelists: if I’m rooting for your protagonist to huff some carbon monoxide before the first chapter is over, you have failed as a storyteller.

Yeah, that IS good advice.

But alas, God and gravity intervene to keep Andrew from hanging himself, and he moves into a new apartment with his best buddy Joe. By sheer random chance, his new next-door neighbor is Emily, an old crush of his from high school, and he predictably tries to Compliment & Cuddle his way into her vagina. It works as well as you’d expect, but Andrew manages to parlay his friendzone status into a date at a bar on State Street, where they meet Adam, the guy who changes Andrew’s life forever.

Adam is the lead singer in a Doors tribute band, which drives Emily wild.

Because what could possibly be more KEWL than being a LEAD SINGER IN A DOORS TRIBUTE BAND!? Nothing, is the answer to that rethorical question, nothing.

A few days later, after they start hooking up, Andrew runs into Adam outside and inexplicably starts monologuing to him about his 99 problems. Adam decides that this is a perfect opportunity to monologue back at him.

Like, seriously, I almost want to read this.

After this stilted heart-to-heart, Adam decides to take Andrew under his wing and teach him the ways of the red pill.

Thanks to the book’s godawful dialogue and characterization, Adam comes off more like a male Manic Pixie Dream Girl than the zero-turned-hero cool guy that he’s supposed to be, and a number of violently homoerotic passages don’t help. From here, The Red Pill devolves into montage territory, with Andrew slowly getting cut, starting his own small business, and learning how to behave with a sack around girls. And naturally, Andrew’s fat feminist sister, once the pride of the family, is forced to move out and get a real job.

Obviously the family took pride in an adult still living with mum and dad and being unemployed because she was a FEMINIST, and that’s the ONLY thing anyone cares about in this feminazi world. Also, she was fat, because obviously.

But the real scorn is reserved for Joe. Jealous of Andrew’s success, angry at his fat Asian girlfriend (there’s a segment where he flips out and punches her),

Yes, punch those WOC!

and unwilling to make the effort to improve his life, Joe succumbs to omega rage

“Omega rage”? That’s an established term?

and decides to murder him, Adam and Emily in the final chapter.

So… if you’re low enough on this status ladder of theirs, it causes murder sprees?

I won’t belabor the point, but this plot twist is as cheap, fake and manipulative as it sounds.

Okay, so Fornay doubt being omega causes murder sprees, it seems. But they still have the term “omega rage”.

Another tip for aspiring novelists: pouring blood and dismembered body parts all over your draft does NOT make it good.

At best, the Red Pill comes off as a pitiful nerd’s revenge fantasy, with all the storytelling quality of a high schooler’s fan fiction. If this is the Red Pill, I wish I had taken the blue pill.

You can! It’s not too late! There’s an entire subreddit for Bluepillers!

Two thoughts. First, Forney wrote that review without it occurring to him that maybe there was something a bit off about the company he keeps? Second, an MRA is surprised by bad writing?

It is pretty hard to tell that the Dan Cardamon video is parody if you don’t know so beforehand. And that’s real . . . frightening.

RE: Hyena Girl

*shivers* Poser paranormal romance covers. A couple of my partner’s erotic paranormal romance novellas ended up with those. #thehorrorthehorror

It’s things like this which make me glad that I’m currently able to design my own covers. I know they aren’t going to win me design awards or anything, but at least they don’t send people screaming into the hills, never to be seen again.

RE: wordsp1nner

The small-press erotica publishers don’t seem to want to hire actual models.

Actually, a lot of the small-time publishers can’t afford professional artists, PERIOD. This leads to people getting covers any way they can–they hire someone who’ll work for cheap, make it themselves, or slap together something from stock. It’s painful to me, as an artist and a writer, because it leads to artists having trouble finding work, publishers putting out stuff that looks awful, which doesn’t help their sales any, and just ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

I am baffled by what this guy seems to think love is like… it reads completely pathetic and infatuated, like a junior high student’s conception of love when all they’ve had is a crush… so… weird…

Also yeah, I wish there was an easier way to pay artists for doing good stuff and adding to the beauty in the world.

Way late here but LBT idk what the cover award standards are but Bodily Reconstructions has an amazing cover. Like, to the point I finally get why people love the retine display (I didn’t fork out the dough for one, and that cover is so much…muchier)

So. About The Red Pill.

I can’t help noticing that it’s free to borrow for Amazon Prime members.

I happen to be an Amazon Prime member.

Anyone else thinking what I’m thinking?


Well, I’ve got it, but Kindle books are a pain in the ass. Even copying short excerpts for review purposes is basically impossible. Should I spring for the $2.99 copy? I’ve got Amazon credit.

Thanks, I’m planning on using Calibre. But I can’t use it to convert lent books (AFAIK nobody supports that for obvious reasons), only bought books.

Oh great, I’m only on the second paragraph and already want to MST it. You guys are going to make me necro my blog (despite the fact that probably means having stalker ex reading it >.< )

But seriously, I'm not a big drinker either, otoh *takes a swig of whiskey* stop insulting my booze of choice!

Fidelbogen is hilarious. That he takes himself seriously is the funniest thing. A fully formed vision of exactly who the guy is rises in your mind after you’ve read some enough of his attempted-philosopher dribble–I started laughing at his self-description up there because it’s just exactly, exactly the person you knew this guy was before you read it. I’ve even listened to a few of his videos for a good laugh. That an MRA in the comments here called him “impressive” says so much about the meeting of the minds that is their movement.

Imagine how unbearable this poser philosopher king must be to coworkers, family, social acquaintances. I’m sure he’s a laughing stock offline as well. And let no one from the “manosphere” ever again claim feminists have no sense of humor when it turns out that they’re treating the funniest man on earth with utter seriousness.

Mystery Science Theater. The original show was watching a movie and commenting/mocking it, LBT tends to do it with written works, which works better for blogging anyways.

And I think I need to get a copy of 50 Shades of Fucked Up Grey so I can snark more of it. Though ut’d probably be less funny and more screamingly angry. (Like, sexytimes start in the first few chapters, he just outright bites her without any fucking warning, chapter fifteen she bares her neck for him, like it’d have been so damned hard to write that ten chapters ago! [see MRAs? This is how implied consent works! Establish that neck biting is desired, bare neck, permission to bite may be assumed until told otherwise, NOT DIFFICULT])

I love Fidelbogan’s twitter. It’s like Horse_Ebooks, only angry and misogynistic.

Argenti (and others), want to mock it with me? I had fun mocking Save the Pearls and then posting it to my blog so I was hoping to do something similar again.

The catch being that last time we did it on the fora, so if people didn’t want to do it there (or don’t have accounts), we’d have to find a different place/way to communally mock.

(I made a forum thread for it here.)

Chapter one has been summarized and snarled to the degree possible given the subject matter. The last page of it needs a giant trigger warning for depictions of suicide attempts.

I honestly can’t see a difference between MRA philosophers and those creepy, bitter old men who deeply resent young attractive women for existing and heckle teenage girls they don’t know at the bus stop. You know, those nosy busy-bodies who make it their business to let you know that they DISAPPROVE of your clothes/hair/facial expression/reading habits and are always full of suggestions about what you can do to “fix” yourself. Maybe there isn’t a difference?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.