PUA douche Roosh V: Men’s Rights Activists “use their illusionary movement as an excuse to sit on their ass and be a loser at life.”
Men’s Rights Activists, I hate to have to break the news to you, but Roosh V, the rapey pickup guru I’ve been writing about a lot lately, is very disappointed in you and your so-called activism. In a sort-of followup to a post of his from several years back with the self-explanatory title “Men’s Rights Has Become A Euphemism For Sexual Loser,” Roosh lays into the “manginas” of the Men’s Rights movement, which he says isn’t really worthy of the name.
The biggest problem with MRAs is that they are not activists. They are pamphleteers. … They believe that one-thousand of them typing away and producing ten-thousand blog posts will change society. … [But] their movement hasn’t produced any results, only little online playgrounds where sad boys can sit in the sandbox and helplessly watch girls play with the cocky boys who understand the rules of the game.
He’s just getting going:
What political or social change have the men’s rights pamphleteers brought? Say MRP in one syllable. That’s the sound they make every time they sit down and hit publish on another one of their turd rants, giddy at the prospect of changing the world when a cup of strong coffee accomplishes more change to their actual turds. … They get the occasional snarky mention from Jezebel and think they’re accomplishing something when they’re actually being used as nothing more than fodder for female bemusement or page views … Even the feminists, their supposed mortal enemy, refuse to debate them on equal footing.
First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they go back to mostly ignoring you, with occasional time-outs for laughter.
Our dear friend Paul Elam gets a little namecheck:
The entire men’s rights non-movement can be boiled down to one middle-aged man named Paul Elam who is carrying the weight of a thousand pamphleteers on his suffering shoulders. That’s not activism, that’s following one dude’s blog. The difference they think they’re making by cheering the public outing of false rape accusers or “male shamers” is the same difference my sister makes when she reads an article in Cosmo.
Aw. I don’t think Elam is really going to appreciate having his blog compared to Cosmo. Just keep telling yourself: Any publicity is good publicity.
But wait a minute, you might find yourself saying, isn’t Roosh just a blogger himself? What possible difference has he made for the men of the world?
Ah, but Roosh has anticipated this objection, and so sets out explicitly what makes him different, and better, than the “sad boys” of the MR(non)M: Roosh fucks ladies who aren’t fat.
As he puts it:
I take personal action and encourage other men to do the same.
At the same time I was complaining that American girls are fat, I was blasting inside Polish girls with perfect bodies. I tell men how to sleep with such women.
At the same time I was whining about divorce rape, I was dating a Ukrainian girl who treated me like a king. I tell other men where to find women like her.
In Ukraine, perhaps?
And while Roosh improves the lives of men with the power of his penis, he is also doing his part to rescue the economy from its doldrums:
At the same time I complain that the American economy is in trouble, I was completing another book I knew my readers would like so that I could increase my income.
That’s right, selling ebooks to make yourself some cash is apparently the highest form of activism.
But he’s not done:
At the same time I was ranting against the Skrillex haircut, I was banging a Lithuanian girl whose hair belonged in a Vidal Sassoon shampoo commercial. I tell men how feminine women are like.
We commend Roosh for his courage and his humility, and his humanity-bettering strategy of pressuring drunk women into bed. Soon the Skrillex haircut will be nothing more than a scary memory.
But Roosh isn’t done with the Men’s Rightsers just yet. While he sets out to better himself and his penis, Roosh complains, the Men’s Rightsers want everything handed to them on a government-issue silver platter,
hoping the government will one day serve their interests and give them things that me and my readers are achieving on their own. I don’t need the government to pass laws against alimony. I simply won’t marry in the USA. I don’t need the government to pass laws promoting fair child custody laws. I won’t impregnate an America girl. I don’t need the government to increase punishment for false rape accusers. I’ll cover my own back. I don’t need the government to ban trans fat to lower the weight of the population. I’ll go to Poland.
What a hero! He continues:
In the same breath they call me a pussy beggar, they beg the government for protection from pussy.
That line is strangely Kennedyesque in its eloquence: “Beg not for what pussy your government can protect your from … .”
Before winding up his inspiring little manifesto, Roosh manages to namecheck a certain middle-aged Men’s Rightser once again:
Instead of listening to Paul Elam tell me that men are getting fucked, I will step out of the house and find a girl who wants to get fucked by me. … [MRAs] use their illusionary movement as an excuse to sit on their ass and be a loser at life.
I guess we’ll just have to wait to see if Elam takes the bait.
NOTE: If you’re a Redditor (I won’t hold it against you), could you upvote this post here? It would be much appreciated.
Posted on August 29, 2012, in a voice for men, antifeminism, creepy, drama, evil fat fatties, gloating, grandiosity, internal debate, misogyny, MRA, narcissism, oppressed men, paul elam, penises, precious bodily fluids, PUA, rapey, rhymes with roosh, sex and tagged men's rights, pick-up artists, PUA, roosh. Bookmark the permalink. 264 Comments.