We Hunted The Mammoth
So manosphere dudes have a theory of sorts about young women that they frequently boil down to the handy catchphrase “alpha fucks, beta bucks.” The idea is that women — oh, you evil women! — have an insatiable desire to mate with and capture the sperm of hot but unreliable alpha males, and an equally innate tendency to try to con some hard-working beta schlub into paying the bills, with his beta bucks, for the resulting alpha spawn.
Apparently hoping to gin up another flood of hate-traffic to his blog, the attention-seeking human stain whose name rhymes with Batt Gorney has posted what is essentially a how-to guide for would-be abusive boyfriends under the charming title “How to Crush a Girl’s Self-Esteem.”
“Gorney” has conveniently arranged his suggestions into a numbered list, so let’s proceed through them one by one. (If you’re triggered by explicit discussions of psychological and physical abuse, please stop reading now.)
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So our old friend Heartiste, the reactionay PUA douchecanoe, is one of those racists who’s not only open about his racism, but actually proud of it; he thinks it’s backed up with SCIENCE. He’s become more obvious in his pandering to the so called “alt-right” racist crowd recently, but he’s sort of outdone himself in a recent post, playing to some rather primal racist fears of black male sexual potency.
In “The Wreck Of The Beta Male Cuckold,” Heartiste offers up a rather strained “parody” of Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald.” Instead of chronicling a real-life shipwreck, he offers up the tale of a fat, emasculated beta brony who sadly watches his wife have sex with a black man — sorry, a “darkie” — before retreating to the basement to commit suicide.
Having previously taken on such dire threats to Western Civilization as “fat girls,” “manginas,” and “rape tourettes,” the pickup-artists-cum-worldly-philosophers over at Roosh Valizadeh’s Return of Kings blog have decided to take on an even more insidious danger: Women — sorry, girls — with short hair.
In an alarming expose, guest blogger Tuthmosis reveals the shocking tuth, er, truth:
How pathetic is this?
https://twitter.com/rooshv/status/421414144420495360
What a sad, small, empty life he must lead. I almost feel sorry for him.
Men’s Rightsers and Pickup Artists alike are obsessed with the dilemma of the so-called “Nice Guy” who can’t get laid. MRAs see his plight as a symptom of a gynocratic society in which fickle, asshole-loving women are the gatekeepers of sex; PUAs see it as a sign that beta males need to learn how to imitate the vaguely aloof swagger of the natural alpha male.
And both MRAs and PUAs completely miss the point.
To see just how badly they do, let’s take a look at a recent post from the sadly influential PUA shitbag Heartiste, who uses an alleged Facebook screencap of uncertain provenance as a springboard for a diatribe against the “desperate male,” that is, the “desperate, clingy ünterbeta male” who pursues a woman, often in a weirdly apologetic, even abject way, long after she’s made it clear she has no interest in him.
Attention pretty high school girls! If a nerdy looking dude in your school shows up one day loaded with guns and Molotov cocktails and starts shooting up the place, it’s actually your fault, for not sleeping with him.
That, in any case, is the argument of a recent post on pickup guru Roosh V’s repulsive Return of Kings blog. In a post titled Why Did Karl Halverson Pierson Attack His School And Kill A Pretty Girl? guest blogger Billy Chubbs looks at a recent shooting at Arapahoe High School in Colorado, throwing out the few bits of information we do have about the shooter and making up a story of his own.
I think I may have discovered the worst piece of short fiction ever written. It’s on a manosphere/pickup-artist blog called Colonel Crimson (slogan: “The Colonel of Truth”).
Here’s how it starts:
So I’m in bed with a dime and she says to me, “Willis, what are your goals in life?”
“Simple, Adime,” I respond with my larynx. “To explore the caverns of dimes throughout the world.”
And it only gets worse from there. I would quote the worst bits, but then I’d have to quote the whole thing. Pretty much everything is a worst bit.
There’s some domestic violence, some utterly horrifying descriptions of sex, a lot of mansplaining, and even a sammich joke. There’s an element of self-parody to it — or at least I hope that’s what I’m seeing there — but the author seems to actually believe all the things he’s gently satirizing. You should of course go and read the whole thing immediately.
If you’re hesitating, here’s another sample:
I remind her of her last gentleman suitor. Average height, median weight. Put the schlub in the word schlub. “Do you remember when he strapped on his kneepads and proposed marriage to you?”
“Unfortunately I do.”
“And do you have any recollection of how the beaver felt in that moment?”
“Dry.”
Oh, and in case you were wondering, a “dime” is a Hot Babe 10. Either that or the dude is having hallucinations about talking currency.
So a fellow over at Roosh Valizadeh’s Return of Kings blog has come up with a new way for men to “dominate” the women in their lives. And it’s inspired by … prison rape.
Let’s let him explain. The RoK writer who calls himself raywolf was allegedly hanging out with an alleged old friend of his who’d allegedly just gotten out of prison after 20 years for his part in an armed robbery in which a security guard was killed.
His friend “Jake” was apparently a bit taken aback by the changes that have taken place over the last several decades. Surprised by the ubiquity of tattoos amongst the general population, and by what he saw as a lot of “masculinized” women out there, he concluded that life outside of prison these days is a lot like life inside prison.
And this brings us to the prison rape. Or, as Jake prefers to call it, eliding entirely the issue of consent, sodomy:
Some married men like to jokingly refer to their wife as “the boss,” generally in a patronizing manner that suggests she’s nominally in charge of the boring everyday stuff in the household that he doesn’t really care about anyway.
But our old nemesis Vox Day isn’t having any of it. To refer to your wife as the boss, even as a joke, is to threaten to loose the forces of anarchy and chaos and feminism upon your family. Also, women are dogs. On his Alpha Game blog, he writes,
If you let a dog think he’s the boss, he will cease to defer to you and begin objecting, violently, when you interfere with what he now believes are his prerogatives. Women are no different.
That’s right. Give in an inch to your wife, and the next thing you know she’ll be sitting on the furniture and insisting on eating “people food” at the table.
It’s a tad ironic that Vox here has decided to degrade women by comparing them to dogs, when his whole “alpha” schtick is based on misguided notions about the behavior of “alpha dogs” and wolves.
It’s one thing to turn over your social calendar to your wife due to a lack of interest in the various social obligations of the family. But checking in to see if there is scheduling conflict, or simply being courteous enough to see if your wife minds if you go to the football game does not make you an employee or a child. Therefore, it does not make her the boss. And what might have been an ironic jest in the days of Mad Men is often taken quite literally now.
Marriage: an endless power struggle in which the wife must always lose.
What a lovely vision of the world!
I should also add that you should never ever, even jokingly, refer to Bruce Springsteen as “the boss” either, because if you do he’s going to be hounding you to hand in your TPS reports and forcing you to work on Saturdays. You don’t want that.
EDITED TO ADD: In the comments on Alpha Game, cailcorishev expands a bit on the whole “women-as-dogs” thing in what he evidently thinks is a humorous way:
Since you mentioned dogs: virtually everything about disciplining a dog and being the pack leader applies to leading a woman (or children). I’m convinced that, if you took a woman on a 45-minute walk every day, as Cesar Millan recommended for dogs, it would eliminate a lot of her problems. Just make sure you lead her, having her take your arm and follow you where you want to go — or use a leash if she’s into that kind of thing.
I can only hope his wife — if there is an unfortunate woman holding this position — pees on the rug and chews up all his important paperwork.