Category: Uncategorized

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?

This image of worthless Zimbabwean currency is my way of telling you that this little blog of mine has garnered more than 500,000 page views! Whoa. Thank you all for coming, and remember to tip the waitstaff!

Sometimes I don’t even have to leave my own blog to find wondrous examples of MRA loopiness at its finest. If you haven’t already, I urge you to take a look at the comments for my Be Aggressive! post from Saturday, where you will find a fellow calling himself Men’s Rights Activist Lieutenant making statements like this.

[T]he MRM movement is the road to a better tomorrow, a place in which men will be treated as human beings, and bitches will be no longer permitted to use men as objects. This is the most important fight in the Western world, in my opinion, and I have a high IQ.

Is he for real? For the sake of our common humanity, I hope not. For the sake of this blog, oh, I dearly dearly hope he’s real.

Ok, I admit it. I actually am a group of women. Here, in fact, is a picture of me from earlier today in the midst of my May Day celebration. After about 9 hours of walking around the pole here — hey, I like to celebrate the fuck out of May Day — I’m a bit too tired to post today. I’ll be back Monday. All hail the goddess!

Also, does no one but me actually like the new punky background to the blog? What if I removed the big jarring black areas?

Recently, in the comments to my Secret Life as a Group of Women post, our old friend evilwhitemaleempire offered this intriguing theory as to why I started this blog:

Your just a runt.

You put up that picture of Charles Altas so folks will think your not.

Your entire adult life has been about coping with the aggressive sexual displays of bigger, taller, more attractive men by throwing anti-male grenades at them. That’s why your a feminist. … you support the false rape/harassment industry because it acts to jail all those better men you can’t compete with.

You and your mangina ilk are what you have always been since high school. Nerds who think they can win the cheerleader if they can get the football captain jailed as a rapist.

I can’t fault his logic here, though evil here is making several incorrect assumptions that call into question his conclusion. One, I don’t actually support sending innocent men to jail on false rape charges, even if they were the captain of the football team in high school. Two, even in high school, I was never interested in the cheerleader type; as a nerdy alternative-music-loving slacker guy, I was much more interested in the girls who listened to The Jam rather than Journey. Also, the high school I went to was basically a high school for nerds; even the cheerleaders were a little nerdy. We didn’t have a football team; our basketball team was legendary for the length of its losing streak, while our chess team, meanwhile, racked up victory after victory.

But enough about my high school.  The key point here is that manosphere dudes have somehow managed to convince themselves, despite massive evidence to the contrary, that sexual attraction is a very simple and straightforward thing: men want cheerleaders and Hooters waitresses; women want jocks and thugs.  These are iron-clad rules, and apply to everyone, including the nerdiest of nerds and the feministest of feminists.  (By everyone, of course, I mean cis heteros; manosphere dudes have no real theories about lgbt sexuality, and tend to forget it exists.)

So evil assumes that I (and presumably the rest of the feminist guys out there) have adopted feminism as a way to get into the pants of the cheerleaders who wouldn’t date us in high school. On the flip side, manosphere dudes often assume, bizarrely, that feminist women are all secretly obsessed with boning thuggish jocks.

In reality, of course, people tend to be interested in and attracted to people basically like them:  gym rats go for gym rats, nerds for nerds, goths for goths, lawyers for lawyers, and so on, and so on, and scooby dooby doo.

To illustrate this point, I’d like to present some relevant anthropological  data, in the form of video footage of the “aggressive sexual display” of one “alpha male” of a certain subspecies of homo sapiens. You will notes that this mating dance has attracted the attention of a female of the same type — and not a feminist. Unfortunately, as far as well can tell from the video itself, the dance did not result in successful copulation. In the end, our subject finds himself competing against the aggressive display of another male of the same type.

Welcome to the all new, if not completely finished, Man Boobz, now hosted on WordPress.com.

The transfer has not gone completely smoothly. One glitch: I haven’t been able to transfer over the latest two posts on the old Man Boobz to here, so if you want to discuss either post, you’ll have to do it on the old Man Boobz. Here are the links:

My Secret Life as a Group of Women

Girlz in the Hood

Anyway, welcome! If you’ve had any problems accessing this blog — the old one or the new one — please email me at futrelle [at] well.com.

I will be moving my blog here to WordPress, but I’m still working out the details. In the meantime, my blog is still on Blogger, and you can reach it at Manboobz.com.

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