Author: David Futrelle

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All the Singles Ward Ladies

Why are there three different sizes of people here?

A reader recently pointed me to a curious and fascinating document online with the puzzling – to me – title “Confessions of a Ward Hopper.” The author, it turns out, is an unmarried Mormon lawyer in his early 30s, and he isn’t happy about his single status. The “wards” he’s referring to in his title are Mormon singles wards, essentially congregations designed to give, well, Mormon singles the chance to meet and marry (and then to move into one of the Church’s regular home wards). Such is the theory, in any case. But our “Ward Hopper” has had no such luck, and he’s been flitting from singles ward to singles ward in a so-far fruitless search for a mate.

I have attended every LDS singles ward that has existed in the last decade from Provo to Ogden – and a few in Vegas, California, Washington and St. George. …

I hate singles wards — and so does everyone who attends them — but we all keep going to them, pretending we like them, pretending like we belong, only because we all want to get married to someone who’s LDS and we believe the wards are a necessary mine field in our lives.  …  There is no where else to go to meet LDS singles in person and no other way to get to know them

So what seems to be the sticking point? At first glance, Ward Hopper seems like quite a catch, at least for a certian kind of woman. He makes a good living.  His faith, he says, “is solid as a rock.” He owns a small fleet of vehicles (four cars, two motorcycles, two boats). As he describes himself:

I’m 6’2, and fairly slim.  I used to body-build, but now I just drink Coke and watch FOX News.  I have thinning brown hair and blue eyes that are so piercing that sometimes I find whole rooms of people falling silent and staring at them as I enter. 

Wait, what?

I think we’re beginning to see just why Mr. Hopper hasn’t quite clicked with anyone yet: his self-descriptions veer wildly between grandiosity (those piercing blue eyes) and hypercritical self-loathing. Hopper continues:

I like to think I’m attractive and smart; but, in moments of pain and failure, I realize that I am not as attractive and smart as I’ve convinced myself I am.  I am constantly stressed about cases, clients, being single, money and my habitual disorganization.  My apartment is a disaster, and so are my cars. 

Maybe he’s trying to pull a Costanza here, throwing women off-guard with his radical honesty. (“My name is George. I’m unemployed, and I live with my parents.”) But this strategy works better on sitcoms than in real life.

And here we come to another of Hopper’s less endearing qualities. If Hopper judges himself a bit harshly at times, he’s even more judgmental of others. Walking into a new singles ward, he sizes everyone up at once with those “piercing” eyes of his. And he doesn’t seem to like what he sees – or, rather, imagines:

I can tell within thirty seconds of meeting another priesthood holder whether that Elder is addicted to porn by watching which women he glances at.  I can tell from the response I get to a single smile whether any young woman is from a small town, whether she is spoiled and stuck up, and whether she is a democrat.

As you have probably begun to suspect, Hopper is especially judgmental when it comes to women, none of whom seem to live up to his exacting standards. All he wants, he says, is “someone beautiful who’s LDS, who’s not spoiled, who needs me.” But, alas, most of the singles ward ladies are fat fatties:

Two thirds of the young women are overweight.  These girls all think that because they have good personalities, or good jobs, or are well-educated that guys should care more about who they are than how they look.  Someone needs to make them understand that young men will never want to be intimate with them if they’re even a little heavy, and they’re doomed if they don’t lose weight.  If these girls understood the world and men, they’d all quit their jobs, drop out of school, and devote themselves soley to losing weight.  It’s that important.  While beauty isn’t the only important thing in a girl, it is the gateway to the other qualities which no man cares about exploring without the attraction.  No amount of makeup will cover a size fifteen dress size.  Like men, women have an obligation to be happy, to procreate, to start a family, to experience humanity and love — which means they’ve got an obligation to lose some weight to accomplish that.  Nobody would have wanted to kiss Sleeping Beauty if she were a fatty with a Ph.d.

What about the singles ward ladies who aren’t overeducated cupcake-munchers? Apparently they’re all New Age flakes, into “exotic fruit-juice cleanses,” astrology, and gay civil rights:

The other third of the girls who aren’t overweight have a different problem. …  We sit down at a nice dinner, and they begin to talk about somebody who’s suffering some medical or emotional problem.  They then begin to extol the virtues of holistic/herbal medicine and animal rights, which apparently this person who’s suffering doesn’t understand.  I nod in increasing frustration as they begin to praise vegetarianism, then proceed to pontificate about liberalism/feminism/homosexuality from mental notes they took in a humanities class being taught by some gutless, godless, gay, liberal hippee freak at the University of Utah …  It seems like many LDS women who aren’t married seek to identify with bizarre belief systems, as if these beliefs have become their spouses … .

And get this, ladies – he’s still single! The line forms on the right.

Despite all this bitterness and blaming of others, I don’t think Hopper is completely hopeless as a human being. He admits to some of his human frailties, talking about his struggle to free himself from a gambling addiction; perhaps this experience could give him a bit of empathy for others who don’t live up to his very specific standards of perfection, or who otherwise have motes in their eyes, as it were. And he does have occasional moments of self-awareness:

I try not to break the Sabbath, but I do buy food on Sundays because I don’t know how to cook.  Maybe I’m a hypocrite.  I’m the kind of guy who walks into Walmart on a Sunday night and looks around in dismay at all the Sabbath breakers who are wandering the store, and wonder how dare they be there.

From such tiny acorns of self-awareness, mighty oaks can be grown. Forgive yourself for some of your many flaws, and forgive others for their flaws (and all the flaws you simply assume they have). And you might not have to keep hopping forever.

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evil women men who should not ever be with women ever MGTOW misogyny MRA sex sluts thug-lovers video white knights

Smurfette was a stuck-up bitch

Do MGTOWers get their notions of modern romance from old Smurf cartoons? I’m beginning to think they do. As you may remember, the world of the Smurfs was an all-male bastion until evil Gargamel created the creature he called Smurfette from a mixture of

Sugar and spice but nothing nice…A dram of crocodile tears…A peck of bird brain…The tip of an adder’s tongue…Half a pack of lies, white, of course…The slyness of a cat…The vanity of a peacock…The chatter of a magpie…The guile of a vixen and the disposition of a shrew…And of course the hardest stone for her heart…..

Initially an evil, deceitful brunette, Smurfette was transformed by Papa Smurf into a glamorous (and less obviously evil) blonde. At which point Smurfs young and old began falling in love with her, supplicating themselves before her Smurfy beauty. Even Papa Smurf himself had the Smurfs for her, as you can see in the video above – even though, as her co-creator, he was basically her father. Ick. Sometimes Smurfette played her smurfy suitors against one another, inspiring them to even greater depths of supplication.

MGTOWers, and a lot of MRAs, basically see this as the basic paradigm of romance: men jumping through hoops to even get noticed by stuck-up women who need do nothing but exist in order to garner male attention. In the Smurf world, this was because there was only one Smurfette in a village full of lonely Smurfs. In the real world, in which men and women balance out more evenly, well, MGTOWers and MRA recreate the weird Smurfy imbalance by simply declaring most women undateable – too old (if they’re over 25 or 30) or too fat (with BMIs over 25). Hey presto! Now men, much like Smurfs, can compete against one another for the same small number of women, making almost everyone miserable in the process, especially themselves.

In Smurf world, of course, Smurfette is chaste and pure; she may kiss the boys but that’s about it. This hardly comports with the MGTOW notion that women are all slutty sluts, bedding down with every thug-boy and alpha male who makes their ‘ginas tingle, to use the peculiarly offputting parlance of the misogynist set. Natually enough, a few creative internetters have reimagined Smurfette as a Smurfslut. Warning: this video may destroy your image of Smurfette forever. This one’s worse.

Oh, and for an interesting discussion of the misogyny and apparent anti-Semitism of Smurf creator Peyo, see here.

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douchebaggery internal debate misandry misogyny MRA MRA paradox paul elam threats violence against men/women

Internet Inactivism and the MRA Paradox

MRA in action

As I’ve pointed out before, the vast majority of Men’s Rights Activists aren’t really activists at all, if by “activists” you mean people who occasionally get off their asses and try to engage in political activity in the real world. As I put in in my piece for the Good Men Project on misogyny in the Men’s Rights movement,

Men’s rights activists aren’t much like any other activists I’ve ever run across. For one thing, for supposed activists they are almost completely inactive. Sure, they complain endlessly about things they see as terrible injustices against men. They just don’t do anything about them. While some of those who consider themselves fathers’ rights activists—a slightly different breed from your garden-variety MRAs—try to influence laws and legislatures, MRAs do little more than cultivate their resentments.

MRAs seem to be good at one thing, and one thing only: posting angry comments on websites, whether their own or on those of their many enemies – whether that’s on blogs like this one or in the comments section on various mainstream media sites they consider “misandrist.” (Actually: that’s not entirely fair – on a few occasions, MRAs have been moved to make threatening phone calls as well.) They don’t raise money for anything but their own web sites and their pet projects. They don’t organize demonstrations that involve more than a tiny handful of people.  Like, for example, this one, involving one dude dressed like Batman who climbed up onto a highway sign:

Or this one, which involved a dude dressed up as Batman and a dude dressed up as Robin, climbing up on a bridge.

If your protests typically involve fewer people than, say, the line of people waiting to use the Redbox video rental kiosk outside your local supermarket on a Friday night, I think it’s safe to say that yours is not a mass movement, at least not yet.

Am I being unfair in demanding MRAs actually, literally,get off their asses before I consider them to be activists? Perhaps.

But, as it turns out, MRAs aren’t much good at sitting-on-your-ass activism either. Case in point: For quite some time – weeks? months? — MRA elder Paul Elam has been urging readers of his blog A Voice For Men to sign a petition to disbar a District Attorney he and other MRAs have decided is corrupt. But despite his repeated pleas to his readers to sign the thing, it has not yet garnered the required 1000 signatures, even though at least a few of his readers have talked about signing it more than once. [Edited to add: it has now gotten more than 1000 signaturesd.]

Today, this particular example of internet inactivism prompted Elam to lash out at his non-signing readers. Declaring himself “tired and frustrated” and “sick of this shit,” he once again begged his readers to sign. Then he went a step further, suggesting that he might limit commenting on his site to “activists that are contributing to this site in one way or another” as a way of encouraging activism and discouraging those who are “sucking up air and doing little else.”

I don’t think further exhortation on his part – or limiting the comments there to “real” activists only – is likely to make much difference. [Edited to add: Nagging a few more people to spend two minutes signing an online petition is one thing. Actually transforming them into real activists is another.]  Elam is running up against the inherent paradox of Men’s Rights “activism” – the fact that most of those complaining the most about alleged injustices against men are not in fact interested in changing anything. Their “activism,” as it were, is little more than an excuse to wallow in their own bitterness, and to blame others for their own problems.

If MRAs really cared about domestic violence against men – as opposed to using the issue as a rhetorical weapon against feminists – they would be raising money and devoting their time to actually building shelters, like the (mostly) women who built the first shelters decades ago, and the (mostly) women who keep these shelters going today. If MRAs were really interested in stopping prison rape, instead of simply complaining about it, they’d be donating money to or working with the advocacy group Just Detention or other groups concerned about the treatment of prisoners. If they were really interested in helping those falsely accused of rape or other crimes, they’d be working with The Innocence Project or some other group fighting for the falsely accused or convicted. Or they would be starting real organizations of their own.

But that’s not, at heart, what the MRM is about. For all but a tiny handful of real activists, it’s not about changing the world. It’s about creating a space where men can kvetch and blame and cultivate their own sense of martyrdom. Actually trying to change the real world would involve , well, going out into the real world, a place where their assertions about the alleged oppression of men are seen as the nonsense they are, a place where their bitterness and hatred of women is seen as bitterness and hatred rather than the righteous anger they like to imagine that it is.

When MRAs do venture out of their self-created bubble they tend to either make fools of themselves – like Batman on the highway sign in the video above – or to reveal themselves to be the angry fanatics they are. Elam, for his part, sometimes even has trouble making his case in the relatively sympathetic environment of the Men’s Rights subreddit on Reddit, and is quickly reduced to sputtering rage when anyone disagrees with him. In the end, sputtering rage seems to be what the MRM is really all about.

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antifeminism life before feminism that's not funny!

Life Before Feminism: When a Woman’s at the Wheel …

Men’s Rightsers and MGTOWers regularly lament what they see as the baleful influence of feminism on everyday life and popular culture. So it’s perhaps worth reminding people what things were really like before modern – that is, second and third wave – feminism.

Second-wave feminism was in its infancy in 1970 when this charming Goodyear ad was shown on the first broadcast of Monday Night Football.

Obviously, the whole “women drivers suck LOL” attitude lives on — in the form of countless dumb jokes, demotivational posters, YouTube compilations, you name it.

But none of that shit hits on the same visceral level as this ad. I think that’s partly because of the smug, patronizing tone of the narrator of the Goodyear commercial, and the hint of contempt that slips into his voice when he mentions the possibility of a mere woman taking the wheel. I think it’s also because to whomever made the ad—and presumably a great number of those watching it — the idea that women are awful drivers is simply considered an incontrovertible fact; the ad isn’t even trying to be funny.

Indeed, this deliberately cutesy vintage Volvo ad, while equally sexist, seems fairly innocuous  by comparison. (My only question is why that poor woman seems to have married her father.)

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antifeminism douchebaggery evil women feminism men who should not ever be with women ever MGTOW MGTOW paradox misogyny precious bodily fluids sex sluts vaginas

Don’t Trust Any Vagina Over Twenty-five

Marilyn Monroe, 8 years past her expiration date.

In the spring, a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. And, at least if he’s straight, vaginas. Even if this young man happens to be a not-so-young man, and one who is defiantly Going His Own Way and thus theoretically immune to the vagina’s siren song. At least that’s the case with one regular over on the Happy Bachelors forum who recently set forth some intriguing theories on vaginas. Specifically, vaginas older than 25. What “Superbad” calls his “Golden Vagina Rule” is pretty simple: “Don’t trust any vagina over 25.” As he explained in a recent thread:

Social commentary written (or spoken) by a woman whose vagina is over 25 years old can be considered mostly bullshit. Null and void. And here is why. You cannot expect a woman, whose primary function is to make babies (aka attract men), to be anything but bitter or dishonest after her eggs and looks start to go. …

And why is this? According to Superbad,

when a woman’s sexuality declines (whored out, dried up vagina, menopause, postpartum depression, psychologically-induced frigidity, insanity, etc.) that she starts blaming men and talking a lot of hate and nonsense.

Just a few quick notes here: Female sexuality is not a finite resource; you cannot use it up by having sex on a regular basis. Nor do vaginas dry up like dead flowers when a woman passes the age of 25. Generally speaking, when a woman is interested in having sex with you, and you don’t just shove your dick in her without so much as a “how do you do,” lubrication is not a problem. If it is, for whatever reason, you can purchase bottles of lubricant at the local drug store. (This is also, FYI, how people are able to have butt sex.) Also, the average age of menopause is 51, not 25; though many believe menopause kills libido and “dries up” the vagina, this is probably a myth.

Oh, and also: mocking women for aging and/or suffering postpartum depression is not just a douchey thing to do, it’s practically psychopathic. Yes, physical beauty fades – eventually – for women and men alike. But having a complete and utter lack of empathy for your fellow human beings is an unattractive quality at any age. Speaking of unattractive beliefs, let’s continue:

The down side of people living longer, is that most women are going to be ugly for vast majority of their lives. That is obviously going to breed resentment and animosity. A woman’s time in the sun is brief. A man becomes more powerful with age. But a woman never gets any prettier. … Feminism has become a way for the uglier, older, less-fertile women to CONTROL young, virile girl’s orgasms and their sexuality.

At this point I feel I should remind Mr. Bad that the word “virile” actually means “manly,” in a general sense; more specifically, it means “capable of functioning as a male in copulation.” If you are interested in women with such capability — hey, let your kink flag fly! – there are several options available to you. (One of them may involve the purchase of equipment; they will all involve the lube I spoke of earlier.)  If this isn’t what you want, you may wish to reword your post, and perhaps any dating profiles you may have put up on DoucheMatch.com or PlentyOfCompleteFuckingAssholes or wherever the fuck you may have put them up, so as to ward off any possible confusion on this point.

Superbad continues:

If you think women hate men; trust me, they’d just assume [sic] claw each others eyes out. And here is where a happy bachelor differs. Older men don’t feel the need to compete with younger men. Older men feel a bond with younger men. It is our duty to teach them and pass down any knowledge. We live in a world where the enemy is no longer a bear or tribal war. The enemy is packaged as pretty as a peacock: MARRIAGE. It is a way to sell the old vagina.

Yuck! Send that old hag to Carrousel!

Let’s try to work out the logic here. According to Superbad, marriage is a dastardly plot by evil feminists to bind men to vaginas over the age of 25, and presumably the women hosting them as well, who by definition are dried-up, whored-out ugly monsters (both the women and the vaginas, presumably).

Feminists are also trying to “CONTROL” the sexuality of young, fertile (yet also virile) women/vaginas, presumably by keeping them from having sex with … Superbad, who, as a Man Going His Own Way, doesn’t even want to be with women in the first place?

The ideal world, evidently, is one in which men of all ages get to have sex with under-25 vaginas (and their women), and are free to reject outright all women/vaginas older than that. In order to accommodate men of all ages, of course, these young women/vaginas will have to have sex with lots of different men. This will, of course, make them, by Superbad’s reckoning, “whores.”

Forget the old virgin-whore dichotomy; in Superbad’s sexual utopia all women/vaginas will pass through three stages: starting out virgins, they will, for a brief period in their late teens and early twenties, be whores; then, after the age of 25, they will be consigned to the whore-heap of history and become hags.

Superbad has it all figured out.  And, as he explains in another comment, these poor gals will have no one but the feminists to blame:

[N]on-fertile women (read: ugly, old, bitchy) are always mad when they see young girls worshiping our cocks… old habits die hard. women are lazy. feminism requires women to get off their fat asses, work, and compete with smarter/stronger beings. most get a taste of “feminism”: working retail and getting fvcked/chucked monthly… and then end up online, looking for a “real man”. but, unfortunately, all the boys that the last generation of femi-turds raised are wimps. so, ladies, here is the game plan. get on your knees when young (so we can rent your mouth and vagina) and THEN, later, wise up, get angry, and MAN UP… and live alone with your cats. Feel free to get online as an old bat and “school” us men. LOL

Yes, Superbad has appended a “LOL” to the tail end of his comment, as if it were some sort of Internet-age equivalent to the more traditional Q.E.D. (Pro-tip: It’s not.) Still, his comments did make me LOL a little, or at least chuckle quietly to myself. Not with you, Superbad. At you.

NOTE: If you didn’t get that reference to “carrousel” earlier, perhaps this scene from Logan’s Run will jog your memory:

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The Searchers

Hey, you asked for it.

One of the many happy benefits of moving this blog to WordPress is that I can now see in gory detail the search terms people use to get here. The most common search terms are, naturally enough, “manboobz” and “man boobz.” It’s on the third-most-popular search term that things start to get weird: it’s “Australopithecus.”  Why? Well, because once upon a time I posted a picture of an Australopithecus couple going about their Australopithecus business.

Let’s take a quick tour through the rest of the search terms list. I think we can learn a few things, both about this blog and about the dreams and desires of people whiling away a boring afternoon at work by poking around the internet. Here are some preliminary conclusions I have drawn from the data:

1) The teeming millions want to look at dudes with lots of muscles:

world’s most muscliest man

most big muscle in the world

world’s muscular man

disgustingly big muscles

silly muscles

les muscle man end the world

And no, I have no idea what that last one means either.

Clearly, the prevalence of muscle-man related search terms is the side effect of having that little picture of a muscly man at the top of the sidebar in the blogger version of this blog. I feel bad that this was all I had to offer the searchers, so as you can see I’ve added a pic of a man with some, yes, ”disgustingly big muscles.”

2) Human sexuality is a weird, wonderful, and often horrifying thing. Sometimes, it involves advanced computer and/or robotic technology:

future lady robot

create a virtual woman with boobs

will cherry 2000 ever happen?

computer mouse in vagina

Other times, animals:

panda furry porn

animal dildo porn

fish meat and women porn movies

I am trying to get that last image out of my head.

3) If you regularly mention sperm on your blog, you’re going to attract a few weirdos:

how to steal sperm

do lizards like human cum

I just Googled that last one and this post of mine was the FIRST RESULT! I would therefore like to publicly state that I DO NOT KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION and have never even tried to find out the answer to that question. And if you by chance actually do know the answer to that question DO NOT TELL IT TO ME.

4) Angry dudes trying to find men’s rights sites can be careless typists:

why do you always here fiminist indoctorin at school but nothing about mens right activist?

women are like chilfren

A few final thoughts:

Many of the questions listed above are questions that are frankly best left unanswered. But there are some others I would dearly love to see answers to:

what do intellegent agressive beefcake nerds want

what does germaine greer think of buck angel

And one question I can answer pretty definitively:

can socially awkward men find love

Yes. The answer to that one is yes.

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douchebaggery evil women men who should not ever be with women ever misogyny western women suck

Desperately Seeking Übermenschen

Hey ladies!

The general line amongst manosphere misogynists is that American women are a bunch of stuck-up princesses whose “ginas” – that is, vaginas – tingle only in the presence of “thugs” and “alpha males.” But one YouTube ranter calling himself LogicJunkie has a somewhat different theory, as he recently explained in a note to the moderator of the Happier Abroad forums. American women, it turns out, are basically all Nazis at heart, “preoccupied with … eugenic perfection in males.” Let’s follow LogicJunkie’s, er, logic:

American females regard as a “creep” any guy who isn’t at least six feet tall, with a pronounced chin, a jock physique, and, in general, Ken doll good Aryan looks. And money is important, too, but not nearly as important as the physiological eugenics. So, in good Germanic fashion, I think what they’re mainly concerned about, is somehow being contaminated by the mere presence of the inferior. …

America is, now more than ever, a Germano-eugenicist death camp, wrapped in the facade of “capitalism” and “corporatism” and “pop culture” and blah, blah, blah. But it’s all about covertly advancing the genetic omnipresence of the Teutonic physiological ideal.

I hate to poop on LogicJunkie’s logic here but, dude, if all the women you’re meeting turn out to be eugenics-obsessed, Aryan-fetishizing Nazis, it does not therefore follow that all American women are eugenics-obsessed, Aryan-fetishizing Nazis. It may just mean you should stop cruising for chicks at Klan meetings.

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Raise High the Toilet Seat, MGTOWers!

This is what happens when you leave the lid up!

I’ve never understood the whole “toilet-seat, up or down, debate.”  Let me put that more precisely: I’ve never understood why people talk about it as if it were some kind of real live issue in our society. Are there really men and women who argue over this? I don’t think I’ve ever even had a conversation about proper toilet seat etiquette, much less gotten into an argument over it. (Or perhaps I have, but have simply forgotten it because it‘s so fucking  boring.) Over the course of my life, I’ve probably spent less time thinking consciously about the issue than I’ve spent writing this paragraph.

That’s clearly not the case with our good friend MarkyMark, a somewhat excitable MGTOWer who (wholly unintentionally) provides this blog with choice material on a semi-regular basis. He must get into arguments about toilet seats all the time, judging from the long screed he posted yesterday on the topic of “what the toilet seat says about women.” Apparently, the fact that some women complain about men leaving the seat up – I’ll have to take his word on this, as I don’t think I’ve ever encountered  it in my life – is evidence that women are foul, selfish creatures indeed. As he puts it, laying forth his basic thesis:

The toilet seat is living proof that women will complain about anything and everything.  The toilet seat shows us that women cannot and will not accept responsibility for themselves.  The toilet seat shows us that women have no perspective about anything.  The toilet seat is living proof of the eternal solipsism of the female mind.  The toilet seat provides empirical evidence that, no matter what or how much they get, women will never be happy.  Finally, the toilet seat shows us that women are spoiled, entitled brats. …

The toilet seat shows us what women are REALLY like, and it ain’t sugar and spice and everything nice.

So distressed is poor Marky at the thought of women demanding that the seat be lowered that he’s driven to reconsider the very idea of universal suffrage:

You know what’s sobering?  We gave these creatures the right to vote!  Yes, that’s right; we gave these childish, immature, spoiled brats the right to decide who has power over us, to decide OUR futures.  With the way women handle the toilet seat issue and what it says about them, is it any wonder why they were denied the vote?!

If this were someone other than MarkyMark, I would probably consider this a joke, or satire, or some sort of reductio ad absurdum. But as far as I have been able to determine, MarkyMark does not in fact have a sense of humor; this is a guy, after all, who once wrote a point-by-point “rebuttal” of an article in The Onion.

Presumably at some point in the future Marky will take on the other pressing bathroom-related issue that bedevils the men of the world:

Why do women always go to the bathroom together? Are they lesbians? Are they plotting something? Or … both?

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douchebaggery evil women men who should not ever be with women ever MGTOW misogyny MRA sex violence against men/women

Lara Logan Redux: More victim blaming, rape denial and rape apologetics from In Mala Fide

Screenshot of In Mala Fide

TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic descriptions of sexual assault; rape apologetics.

Journalist Lara Logan recently appeared on 60 Minutes, giving the harrowing details of the brutal sexual and physical assault she sustained at the hands of a mob while covering the protests for (60 Minutes) in Cairo this past February.

When news of the assault first hit the internet, you may recall, it seemed to open the floodgates of misogyny and racism. Looking at one Yahoo News story on the attack, I found hundreds of vile comments – some blaming Logan for her victimization, or doubting it ever happened; others using the assault as an excuse to spout hateful filth about Arabs and Muslims in general.  In the “manosphere” itself, the reaction was predictably appalling, with many MRAs not only mocking and belittling the victim but using the case to push their own retrograde agenda. (See my post here for more details.)

Even within this context, the reaction of blogger Ferdinand Bardamu of In Mala Fide stood out for its sheer nastiness; I wrote about it here. In his first post on the subject, Bardamu mocked the victim, declared that “she had it coming,” then suggested that she probably hadn’t been raped at all. Based on no evidence whatsoever, he speculated that she may have just  “made the whole thing up to garner attention and sympathy from the weepy, chivalrous masses. “

Bardamu has now used the occasion of Logan’s new CBS interview as an excuse to mock the victim again — calling her, among other things, an “idiot,” a “moron,” a “strumpet” and a “fake-breasted tart” — and to repeat his contention that she wasn’t “really” raped at all. Indeed, he says, the interview has “vindicated” his skepticism about the rape. Why? Because in her interview of 60 Minutes, Logan had spoken about being penetrated by the hands of her attackers. Bardamu evidently finds this highly risable, and somehow manages to convince himself that Logan was merely groped:

But seriously, “they raped [you] with their hands”?

Look, I’m no scholar, but even with feminists’ constant re-defining of rape, I know for a fact that rape has to involve a penis. Specifically, an penis entering an orifice without invitation. If you didn’t get a dick forced into your mouth, vagina or asshole, you didn’t get raped.

Logan and CBS’ deliberate vagueness about the “sexual assault” back in February was no doubt calculated to make people imagine the worst possible scenario that could happen. A line of hairy, creepy men pulling a train on her. Triple penetration at all times, the hairy sleazy monkey-men shooting jizz in every hole in her body, donkey punching her every time she tried to resist. In reality, she probably got spit on a few times, had her butt slapped, and had her silicone tits felt up. That’s not rape, you strumpet, that’s Spring Break in Cancun!

It’s hard to even know where to start with something this appalling. First of all, as a few dissenters pointed out in the comments on Bardamu’s post, it is still rape – “real” rape – when you are penetrated with fingers, bottles, or any other foreign object. When Abner Louima was brutally sodomized with the handle a bathroom plunger by New York city cops, that was rape, real rape. And what Logan says happened to her was real rape too.

As for the rest, I think the only thing to do is to contrast Bardamu’s words with Logan’s account of what happened to her, taken from a transcript of the interview.

As Logan tells the story of the assault, she and her crew were caught in the midst of a mob. Men grabbed her, groped her, and literally tore the clothes from her body. As she describes it:

I feel them tearing at my clothing. I think my shirt, my sweater was torn off completely. My shirt was around my neck. I felt the moment that my bra tore. They tore the metal clips of my bra. They tore those open. … [T]hey literally just tore my pants to shreds. And then I felt my underwear go.

Some men began beating her with sticks and others, with their hands, penetrated her. In this and the following passages I’ve bolded the statements dealing specifically with the sexual aspect of the assault. Logan again:

I didn’t even know that they were beating me with flagpoles and sticks and things, because I couldn’t even feel that. Because I think of the sexual assault, was all I could feel, was their hands raping me over and over and over again. …

They were tearing my body in every direction at this point, tearing my muscles. And they were trying to tear off chunks of my scalp … not trying to pull out my hair, holding big wads of it, literally trying to tear my scalp off my skull. And I thought, …  I am going to die here.

This assault lasted 25 minutes. Logan says:

[T]hat’s when I said, “Okay, it’s about staying alive now. I have to just surrender to the sexual assault. What more can they do now? They’re inside you everywhere.” So the only thing to fight for, left to fight for, was my life.

Ultimately, Logan was rescued and rushed to the hospital. Logan continues:

I stayed there for four days, which was hard. My muscles were so unbelievably sore, because they were literally stretched from the mob trying to tear my limbs off my body. My joints, every joint in my body was distended. And then they, the more intimate injuries, the injuries, the tearing inside. And the mark of their hands, their fingers all over my body, cuts and everything you could imagine. But no broken bones.

This horrific account bears very little resemblance, it hardly needs to be said, to Spring Break in Cancun.

Naturally, a number of the commenters on Bardamu’s  site manage if anything to be even more vile than Bardamu himself.

McGlothin suggests that Logan probably enjoyed the experience:

It’s not impossible that she went all the way to orgasm when the testosterone filled raging men fingered and groped her. That would explain the vagueness of her description: she was way enjoying it so much that she could not remember precisely what happened except that they molested her manually.

Attila concurs:

This gynbot just wants attention, and is playing the “Arabs are animals” routine for brownie points. She probably got groped a little, in a way that she has never been groped before, and she may be reacting to the fact that she may have gotten a thrill out of it.

Commander Shepard throws some racism and “slut”-shaming into the mix:

She was raped by their hands? LOL. A pretty blond like Logan probably spent her youth getting gang banged by alphas. In this case the men were beneath her (dirty sand niggers) but even they didn’t penetrate. She’s probably more upset about her bruised ego than her bruised body.

Bardamu wrote his post, I should note,  before the interview aired, and before anything beyond a few quotes from it had been published. But it is telling that he has not bothered to go back and watch or read the full account. Not that it would matter; he made up his mind on the case a long time ago, and I doubt that anything could change it. Like many in the “manosphere,” Bardamu and his fans see only what they want to see, and use their imagination – and their prejudices — to fill in the rest.

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