Category Archives: MGTOW
Links: Jezebel on MRAs and American-woman-haters. Plus: a fan in Brazil!
This picture has nothing to do with the post, but, come on, it's fucking adorable!
Some links for Friday night:
Jezebel’s Anna North takes up the question “What Should You Do When Someone You Love Becomes a Men’s Rights Activist?”
North quotes me and Hugo Schwyzer on the topic. Here’s the extended remix of my remarks:
Unfortunately, in most cases, I don’t think it’s possible to talk someone out of a Men’s Rights obsession. For most of them, it seems to be driven not by facts — they’re happy to simply make up facts to fit their worldview — but by feelings, most obviously by rage at women. If they were driven by actual interest in issues, they probably would have accomplished something by now; in reality, only the overlapping but more politically focused Father’s Rights movement has actually had much of an effect on the real world, for better or worse. For most MRAs, the closest they come to activism is leaving angry comments everywhere online — or harassing individual women online in a manner similar to the ways abusers stalk the objects of their obsessions.
The one argument I think you can make to MRAs who are not too far gone is this: it’s not healthy for you to spend so much time stewing in your anger online. Instead of trying to help men work through their personal issues with women, the MRM encourages men to cultivate their rages and hatreds, to remain stuck. That’s not healthy for them, or for society at large.
North’s post was inspired by a recent Dear Prudence question on Slate from a girl whose dad had recently gone all MRA on her. (It’s here, scroll down a bit to the question that starts “Dad-Related Dilemma.:)
The guys at The Spearhead also had a whack at the Dear Prudence question here. Needless to say their perspective is a little different than mine or Hugo’s.
And while I’m doing links, here’s another misogyny-related post on Jezebel: Founder of Possible Sex Tourist Website Creates Elaborate Ad Campaign Telling Men to Beware of Marriage
It’s a lot of the same old shit we’ve seen before from marriage-hating MGTOWers and Western-women-haters. But entertaining nonetheless.
And last but not least: checking my traffic today I discovered that Man Boobz is big in Brazil! By which I mean, a professor at the Federal University of Ceará is a fan, and has started making fun of obnoxious Brazilian misogynists on her blog. Olá Lola!
As far as I can tell from the badly Google-translated version of her blog, the Brazilian versions of Man Boobz (Homens Idiotas?) are pretty much identical to our Man Boobz, right on down to their obsessions with alphas and betas and all that crap.
Arky-May Ark-May, we hardly knew ye! Also: Stinky vaginas.
Christopher in Oregon learned everything he knows about female anatomy from old Lysol ads.
One of my favorite manosphere blogs is no more. Its proprietor, worried that he might get “outed” in real life, decided to shut it down and delete everything. In deference to his desire for privacy, I will refer to him here only as Arky-May Ark-May. He will be missed.
Luckily, before the shutdown, I managed to grab one last post, a little gem titled “The Vagina, by Christopher in Oregon.” Chris, a longtime friend of Arky-May, is something of an expert on this particular subject, in his own special way. As a man who is very definitely Going His Own Way, it seems clear that he’s had little or no experience or contact with actual vaginas. But he seems to think about them more than perhaps anyone on earth. His thoughts are not kind thoughts.
So let’s pour one out for Arky-May’s lost blog, and enjoy Christopher of Oregon’s ruminations:
Men spend most of their lives trying to get back into the hole they shot out of, so they need to stop for a moment and analyze it. The vagina, I mean.
Here we go.
At first glance, it’s mighty ugly. Floppy lips dangling down like bat wings. The entire region pelted with ugly pubic hair. It’s greasy, and the more aroused and broody she becomes, the greasier it gets.
The greasier? The greasier? You’ve never actually touched one, have you? Reading Christopher of Oregon on the vagina is a bit like listening to a high school student who hasn’t done the reading try to bluff his way through a teacher’s question on Macbeth.
Have I mentioned the smell yet? Let me tell you, it’s horrifying. I have an up-scale Sushi restaurant near my home. I love Sushi, by the way. But, on the edge of the parking lot of the afore-mentioned restaurant, they dump the scraps and unsold fish into a dumpster. I walked by there the other day when it was about 85 degrees, and the smell just about knocked me over. The first thought that occurred to me was that it smelled just like every vagina I’ve ever known.
Chris, clearly the only vaginas you’ve ever known have been fish vaginas. (Do fish have vaginas? They must, right?)
Now, a skunk smells bad. A dead possum smells bad. So does a cat box. But a vagina? That goes beyond bad. And, no, it’s not “musky” or “tart” as some women like to say.
It’s bad. Really bad. I don’t think we have single word in the English language that adequately describes the foul, rancid odor of a woman’s vagina.
Also, they are full of cooties! And centipedes! And mousetraps! And LIBRARY FINES!
There is something patently WRONG with something that produces such a noxious stench that it could, as the old saying goes, knock a buzzard off a shit-wagon at fifty paces.
I’m pretty sure that even the foulest vagina in the history of the world wouldn’t be able to knock a buzzard off a shit-wagon at any distance further than a couple of yards. Buzzards love shit-wagons!
I just ask you fellows to put that hairy hole in proper perspective.
Huh. I thought Harry Hole was a fictional Norwegian detective.
Ah, well. I’m off to lunch with a greatly reduced appetite.
Say hi to Arky-May for us.
Merry War on Christmas, Sisters-in-arms!
Females hate Santa
“Feminists Take Up Arms in War on Christmas.” That’s the headline over on The Spearhead, where W.F. Price tries to spread some good old-fashioned anti-feminist cheer with a post dredging up the old Fox News crapola about a “War on Christmas,” with feminists in the role of villain this time.
His proof of this feminist perfidy? This video on the “Top 5 Creepy and Sexist Christmas Songs.” In it, Anita Sarkeesian of Feminist Frequency takes a critical look at some Christmastime “classics,” including the really quite odious “Baby it’s Cold Outside,” which depicts a man pressuring a woman into staying with him for the night, aggressively shutting down every one of her many objections. The message? Fifty nos and one yes means a yes. It might as well have been written by Reddit’s date-rapey “seduction” experts.
Naturally, the Spearhead regulars offer deeply insightful critiques of all of her main points. DT wades in with a witticism worthy of Wilde:
The reason she hates “Baby It’s Cold Outside” is because no man would ever even dream of trying to stay at her house.
Baby, it’s cold inside, and you’re stuck there alone.
Boxer offers a somewhat broader critique:
Feminists are so far out these days that they resemble bag ladies rather than genuine social critics. Their endless shit opinions take on a comic quality.
Life is wonderful, and life is extra nice without a cunt woman whining in one’s general vicinity. Happy snatch-free holidays, brothers! :)
Further proof.
The ever-so-slightly-addled Geography Bee Finalist himself sets forth a theory to explain why feminists might be critical of traditional holidays:
If feminists hate men, and since no holiday comes to mind that can be extricated completely from men, as even the turkey baster needs semen (and men probably invented the centrifuge that sorts X sperm cells and Y sperm cells) so the dyke couple can conceive a kid out of wedlock but in principle cannot celebrate Mother’s Day as fetuses need semen to exist, but Jehovah’s Witnesses expect the FATHER to almost always be the head of the Jehovah’s Witness nuclear family, I wonder what the feminist is left to do.
Oh, that’s right. She is left to not celebrate a single holiday of any religion or country, nor be a Jehovah’s Witness if she wants to have any principle left when it comes to holidays, but then again “feminist principle” is another oxymoron.
Well, all that probably seemed to make more sense echoing inside his empty skull than it does actually written down.
All Keyster’s comment needs is an instant rimshot or two:
You’d think they’d be pleased that a third of the planet celebrates a holiday about a virgin who was able to conceive…without a man!
Or do they believe God raped her?
Feminism envisions either a world without men; or at least one where men are kept in a state of subservient subhumanism. Christmas has to go, along with all other religious holidays and traditional religions. All traditional religions and their associated holidays stress the importance of monogamous marriage and family; and feminists exalt feminine independence, abortion, and misandry.
But it’s Andybob who wins the thread with this unique close reading of the video:
Notice that she says, “downright creepy” at exactly the same moment that an image of a pair of jingle balls appears threateningly above her head. It this a feminist’s sledge-hammer subtle attempt to subliminally associate testicles with creepiness? Lesbians never stop trying to recruit.
Andy, I’m sure that you, in your own small way, have helped to make this ongoing lesbian recruitment drive a little bit more successful.
This post contains:
Fellas! Protect yourself from these sneaky lady tricks!
Some of them start young.
Courtesy of MGTOWforums.com, here’s a little collection of some of the evil dastardly tricks that women pull on the poor oppressed men of the world. Obviously, most sensible guys know that “housework” is a scam; so-called “housewives” spend most of their time on the couch eating bon bons and watching The View.
But did you know about Arson Night? Or the Cheerleader Ring Drop? Read on, and become enlightened Knowledge is power! STAY SAFE, GUYS!
If a man give his woman 100 dollars a week for food shopping, she will spend say 60 on food and keep the rest. When he enquires why there’s no food in the house come Friday he will get bitched at for not trusting her. And made to feel guilty for accusing her, even though she has deceived him.
They like to lay in bed, and pretend to be sick or sad (which means you won’t be coming in there) and text all their boyfriends.
When they say they are going out with the girls, they could be out doing Anything. This ranges from doing hard drugs to stripping to boinking strangers to sitting alone on a curb to arson. You can never be sure.
How about when they try their version of the Jedi mind trick on you. You know the thing they brag about in private. Trying to make something that’s her idea, seem like it’s *your* idea so that you’ll do it. And then pat you on the back to boost your ego like a trained dog when in reality you did what they for *them* all along.
Sooo many guys fall for this. Suddenly they’re buying crap they don’t need or moving the inlaws in because the woman made it seem like *he* wanted it. Classic.
Short Hair: The Beginning of the End
Women spend so much time on their appearance… why?
That’s right, to catch a sucker into paying the bills. Once the contract is signed, and the babies are popped out, she has you by the balls and doesn’t need to pretend anymore. Next she’ll wear more “comfortable clothes” and cut her hair short. It’s the beginning of the end.
And, yes, The Cheerleader Ring Drop:
In 11th grade high school, I was in the wrestling team. One day, during a water break, this cheerleader next to me started getting panicky and asked me if i could help her find her ring. She “dropped” it and did this just as an opener, i suppose. I ended up ‘being’ with her and it quickly diminished; she was bunk. Another cheerleader came up to me while i was with her and told me “what are you doing her?, you’re way too good for her!”
Luckily, the fella calling himself Tha Big Daddy C-Master, who started the thread, has a simple solution to all this. Well, two simple solutions:
You can always turn the other way, or just use a woman. Human toilets and all.
I couldn’t have said it worse myself!
Dear Men Who Hate Ladies: How do I make my boner go away?
Women -- don't let them tempt you with their witchy ways!
Consider the plight of the poor, horny Man Going His Own Way. He may have convinced himself that women are icky monsters out to highjack his sperm and steal his money. He may have convinced himself we live in a femi-fascist gynocracy out to destroy men and civilization generally. Yet his disobedient penis can’t stop thinking about sex with these evil, filthy women.
And so he turns to his fellow MGTOWers to ask for help: what can I do, my brethren, to stop popping so many boners? Ed1974, a newbie on MGTOWforums.com, puts it this way in a plaintive recent post:
[M]ore than almost anything I want to be woman-free and contentment to live a woman-free life. For more or less all of my adult life I’ve played in to society’s demands that I have to have a woman, and preferably a pretty woman, in my life. I’ve done a lot of Internet dating and every friggin time I get involved with a woman I regret it. Either I just want to get some ass and the woman wants a lot more than that and makes a mess out of my life when I leave, or I end up spending way more money than I ever wanted to spend just to have her grace my life with her presence, or something else that fucks up my life. The bottom line is I sincerely want to live a life without the desire to have a woman in my life.
So Ed is taking steps to quell his desire:
1. I downloaded a firewall blocking all dating sites.
2. I’m going to read as many books on misandry that I can.
3. I’m going to take myself out of situations where I can get in trouble, such as bars.
4. I’m going to fill free time that I would normally spend out with some woman with something productive.
I also want to remember the bad times where I’ve had women who I’ve tried to get out of my life end up stalking me for months on end. And to be perfectly honest, I want to remember the time I got the clap from some skank. I also want to remember that I should be thankful that I’m not a baby daddy and I’ve never had any false rape charges against me.
Alas, but poor pretty Eddie is afraid that this won’t be enough, and begs the assembled MGTOWers for “other steps I should take.”
Site admin Nacho Vidal suggests he go another way entirely:
My advice would be to scrap the ‘steps’ you’ve taken and take your wanking up a notch! Also, have you looked into hiring a whore or two once a month?
Others jump in to endorse the masturbation-and-prostitute strategy, and encourage him to cultivate his hatred of women by reading from the ample selection of stories on the site about evil, depraved, disgusting women. As fairi5fair puts it:
I go to college and still get the biochemical reactions that play into the mate-spawn-die script when I see a 20 year old with a candy apple ass and perky tits, but my growing understanding of women in general helps to make it less urgent and more negligible everyday.
A few others have more novel advice. Our friend womanhater suggests a trip to the mall:
Sit in the food court, and spend a good three hours there. Leisurely sip on some coffee, and simply watch.
See all the soulless men being dragged around by cupcake holding her bags. You’ll see the total absence of hope in the eyes of men in this trap. You’ll see his brain calculating the immense debt being run up, and yet he knows he’s fucked.
Pay attention to the stupid whores in training aged 15 or so, and simply listen the absolute shit running out of their mouth. Watch their behavior and internalize that every twat you see aged 25 was doing the exact same shit a decade ago.
Every time I start to feel my ghosting resolve start to slip, I go to the mall for a few hours. Clears my fucking head every time.
NewWorldMan suggests a sort of mind-over-boner strategy:
Sounds like BS, I know, but telling myself (actually saying the sentence in my head at the moment of attraction): “I control my dick, my dick doesn’t control me — actually works for me.
Frederick326 suggests an anatomy lesson:
Read up on vaginas. They’re fucking disgusting.
And fairi5fair also links to the (somewhat NSFW) video below. I’m not sure what exactly it’s supposed to accomplish other than to remind us that Japan leads the world in baffling entertainment product:
Hole lotta hate
Be thankful you live in a world that also contains things like this.
Though Thanksgiving is over, I’m still thinking about all the things I’m thankful for. I’m thankful that so many fine people have made this blog a kind of online home. I’m thankful for the steady stream of trolls that keep us all so busy. I’m thankful for friends, and kitties, and Netflix streaming, and the delicious Thanksgiving buffet I gorged on yesterday. I’m thankful I’m nowhere near a mall today. I could go on and on.
But instead I’ll just point out that I’m extra, especially, really really super-duper thankful I’m not this guy, as happily “single [and] free” as he claims to be. Or one of the 42 bitter assholes on The Spearhead who upvoted this comment of his:
I was going to limit my usage of women to that of a nice meat hole, but I concluded even that is too risky. Now I try to avoid western women altogether. Decades of child support can ruin a man’s life. STDs can ruin a man’s life. A False rape claim can ruin a man’s life. Also, women have disproportionate support from the courts and law enforcement thanks to traitorous manginas. Nearly every man I know who is living with a wife or gf is miserable. Nearly every man I know who does not have a wife or gf has a higher quality of life-or at least appears to be happier. From my observations, men’s quality of life usually decreases after long stints in relationships.
I will stay single, stay free, and live alone.
I am pretty sure that the “meat holes” of the world are even more happy about this last bit than you are.
“A man is not being respected if the woman he is with has spent her youth, beauty and fertility on someone else.” Um, what?
Vile strumpet! You'll get your comeuppance!
Manosphere dudes – MRAs, MGTOWers, PUAs and whatever other acronyms they will eventually invent – love to tell themselves little “just so” stories about women. One of their favorite stories is the story of the Bad Boy Cock Carousel.
The gist of it: Women in their twenties are at the height of their physical beauty. So they act like entitled bitches, sleeping with every Bad Boy and Alpha Asshole there is and ignoring the humble, honest, hardworking “nice guy” betas silently pining for them.
But once these mean girls hit the age of 27 or so, they suddenly become ugly monsters, and the bad boys stop returning their calls. So then the evil ladies try to glom on to the nearest beta male in an attempt to marry him and steal all of his money.
But the beta males don’t want none of that used-up pussy, and so they Go Their Own Way and everyone ends up forever alone. Or the guys learn “game” and start banging the hotties. Or they just go back to posting sammich jokes on Reddit. I think these are all supposed to be happy endings, because at least the evil bitches get their comeuppance.
Recently, someone posted a n especially creepy version of this Manosphere fairy tale in the comments here; it turned out to have been cut and pasted from a comment on Roissy/Heartiste’s “game” blog by a guy who calls himself PhillyBoy81. It’s long; I trimmed it a little for space.
“[A]lpha males” are doing all the rest of us a favor in the long run. They operate very much like short sellers in the dating market, exposing fraud and helping to discover the true prices of commodities (women).
Yep, we’re on the express train to Doucheytown.
Let’s take a 21-year old chick who’s between a 7/8 (cute to pretty. … She can pretty much get sex whenever she wants it and with whomever she wants to have it with. And that is ultimately her downfall.
Young women (and some older ones) have an overinflated sense of the value of their vaginas. I mean, they have Wharton MBAs paying for exotic trips and they’re drinking Cosmos in the VIP with the Wizards.
Apparently this is just how women in their early twenties live. Who knew?
Since they are able to get such easy access to “alpha” dick, it follows logically that they should also have access to “alpha” wealth, marriage, and the lifestyle that accompanies all of that, right?
Wrong. See, when women gain this enormous sense of pussy power, they swing for the fences. … So, the cute guy with a 3.8 GPA, but no car? Nope, not good enough. The nice-looking pre-med student? “Nah, I’ll just get back to him later. I heard Jude Law’s hotter brother is transferring here this semester.”
This had me worried for a second, but I looked it up: Jude Law does not have a “hotter brother,” or indeed a brother at all, which is good news for all straight men of equal or lesser hotness than Jude Law.
Anyway, back to the evil women:
They invariably end up overplaying their hand. They chase these players looking to get a ring, and then that ring never comes. So now they’re 27. It’s a good thing she kept that pre-med Johns Hopkins student in her back pocket just in case things didn’t work out with the player, right?
Wrong again. In a vacuum, women would have their way. Men beg for sex. Women decide whether to give it to them (and for most guys, they will not give it to you). But luckily, we don’t live in a vacuum. We live in the real world with social constraints, and there are two that work distinctly to a man’s advantage: reputation and age. …
Ladies don’t think … we won’t remember your bitchiness. And don’t think we won’t remember those guys who you ran behind like a cum bucket.
Hmm. I’m pretty sure the only place buckets are gifted with mobility is in old Disney cartoons.
We remember. And we punish.
When a man sleeps with 100 chicks, he’s a stud. When a woman sleeps with JUST ONE guy, that eliminates you as wifey material to ALL of his friends. …
Apparently penises have a sort of reverse-Midas Touch thing going on: every woman who touches one turns into a filthy, used-up slut.
The height of a woman’s value, in terms of her value as a long term partner, is around the age of 27. That is the praecipice. The older she gets, the more her singlehood gets scrutinized by men. Why the hell is she still single? Who’s cock has she been sucking all these years?
Clearly that is the first question every straight man should ask himself whenever he sees a single woman older than the age of 27. (Just make sure you don’t actually ask this question out loud; it doesn’t go over well.)
[L]et’s face it, what virile, successful bachelor wants to entertain a 29 or 30 year old as wifey potential. She’s going to want to become a baby factory right away and rip away the last vestiges of your freedom. I don’t think so. It’s now my time to swing for the fences and bang some of these 21 year olds that I couldn’t bang in college.
Hello creepy older dude lurking in the shadows at the frat party!
In conclusion, a woman’s value is really defined by the type of man who puts a ring on her finger, not the type of guy who will fuck her. It takes a lot of women a long time to understand this, and thus, they overplay their hand. If it wasn’t for the players dogging them out, these women would not get a sense of their true value and start to seek out men who fit within their price range.
It’s all about market equilibrium, yo! SCIENCE!
So that’s the story. It’s a stupid story. It’s not a true story. But it’s the story that manosphere dudes, like young children, want to hear over and over and over.
But I haven’t even gotten to the best part. Our pal MarkyMark, an excitable and somewhat addled Man Going His Own Way, reposted PhillyBoy81’s comment on his blog. In the comments there (as Man Boobz commenter Wetherby pointed out) we find this little gem:
A man is not being respected if the woman he is with has spent her youth, beauty and fertility on someone else.
Yep, that’s right. I’m just going to repeat that, because, wow.
A man is not being respected if the woman he is with has spent her youth, beauty and fertility on someone else.
All women older than 27 or so who date or marry men are disrespecting these men because … they are older than 27. Apparently women age out of spite. Maturation is misandry!
Grey, Rested and Ready: Some Grey Bloke returns, with a new video and some MRA non-fans
Our videomaking friend Graham, also known as Some Grey Bloke, is back, finally. In his new video, he explains his long absence, due in part to what seems to have been a rather large misunderstanding between him and the Men’s Rights Activists of the world, who somehow interpreted the newfound enthusiasm for Men’s Rights he showed in his last video as a sort of satire. (How could anyone be drawn to mock or satirize the serious and important Men’s Rights movement?)
Anyway, here’s his new video. And below it, his previous video on “The Manosphere,” which seems to have gotten 49,208 more views than my last video on the subject. Which I’ve also embedded below. It’s not as good as his, but perhaps you could watch it also.
MGOTWers in Space
Women always go for the alien alpha assholes.
So a six man crew has just touched down on Earth after a nearly two-year Russian expedition to mars. Well, that’s not quite true. The five men have returned from an imaginary trip to a fake mars; in reality, they spent the entirety of the “mission” sitting in some trailers in a parking garage in Moscow. Except for a brief interlude in which several of the fake marsonauts took a brief stroll on the surface of fake mars – also inside a trailer in the parking lot.
The idea behind all this? To see if six dudes could manage to stay sane while stuck in cramped quarters together for the length of time it would take to go to mars and back.
One of the many weird details about this weird faux-mission is that it was an all-dude affair. None of the marsonauts were women. Not, evidently, because the mission planners thought that women would be less capable than men of handing the pressure of a fake (or even a real) mission to mars. But because if they sent any ladies along, the men would want to have sex with them. As one news account explains:
Controversially, the experiment did not include a woman, with researchers clearly wanting to avoid it degenerating into a scientific version of television’s sexual tension-filled “Big Brother”.
When the “returning” marsonauts stepped out of their “spaceship” at the end of the experiment, the same news account notes,
They were each presented with a flower by young female researchers in white coats as a reward for their endeavours.
It has not been confirmed if the marsonauts popped boners at the sight.
I for one support the notion of male-only spaceflights, real or phony. And not just because the ladies would turn our space capsules into deep space slutmobiles. Just imagine what would happen if a female-infested space crew had an encounter of the third kind with some really handsome space alien dudes – the interstellar equivalents of Brad Pitt. You know what would happen next: those dirty sluts would sell out our planet for a ride on the little green cock carousel.
Ah, who am I kidding, those sluts would sneer at the little green men, holding out for the tall greys.
Audiovidual supplement: Three videos. One, Rachel Maddow talking about the mission at its halfway point. Two, a brief look at everyday life on the “spaceship.” And last but definitely not least: a video of the fake-mars walk. Inside a trailer. You have to watch at least a few seconds of that one.
Johnny Appleseed: A Man Going His Own Way?
How do you like them apples?
So yesterday I quoted some random Spearheader who described women (well, white women in particular) as “complete parasitical whores roaming the landscape spreading VD like Johnny Appleseed and fucking men over.”
One reader wondered if Mr. Appleseed really went about spreading VD. So I did a little research, and it turns out that it is exceedingly unlikely that Mr. Appleseed – who actually was a real person — spread anything other than the magic of apples. And his Swedenborgian beliefs.
Why? Because Mr. Appleseed – real name John Chapman – was what these days we might call a Man Going His Own Way. Seems he didn’t have much truck with the ladies, according to one contemporary account quoted in his Wikipedia entry:
On one occasion Miss PRICE’s mother asked Johnny if he would not be a happier man, if he were settled in a home of his own, and had a family to love him. He opened his eyes very wide–they were remarkably keen, penetrating grey eyes, almost black–and replied that all women were not what they professed to be; that some of them were deceivers; and a man might not marry the amiable woman that he thought he was getting, after all.
So what led poor Mr. Appleseed to these dire thoughts about women? Apparently the underage girl he hoped to some day get with was more into dudes who weren’t him:
Now we had always heard that Johnny had loved once upon a time, and that his lady love had proven false to him. Then he said one time he saw a poor, friendless little girl, who had no one to care for her, and sent her to school, and meant to bring her up to suit himself, and when she was old enough he intended to marry her. He clothed her and watched over her; but when she was fifteen years old, he called to see her once unexpectedly, and found her sitting beside a young man, with her hand in his, listening to his silly twaddle.
That ungrateful little strumpet!
I peeped over at Johnny while he was telling this, and, young as I was, I saw his eyes grow dark as violets, and the pupils enlarge, and his voice rise up in denunciation, while his nostrils dilated and his thin lips worked with emotion. How angry he grew! He thought the girl was basely ungrateful. After that time she was no protegé of his.
But Appleseed, despite giving up on women in the real world, held out hope for the afterlife – explaining to others that he expected to have two spirit wives all his own after he died. Which I guess is the 19th century equivalent of the MGTOWers today who fantasize about the sexy robot ladies who will eventually, it is hoped, make actual human females – with their troubling “thoughts” and “needs” and “desires” of their own – obsolete.
Mr. Appleseed’s quest to remain alone was probably also helped by the fact that – if the illustration I found on Wikipedia is any indication – he looked a bit like Dale Gribble from King of the Hill. Only much, much sloppier, with long hair. Oh, and instead of wearing a baseball cap, he wore “a tin utensil which answered both as a cap and a mush pot.”
So, yeah, a creepy weirdo who hates women — definitely an MGTOWer all the way.
Oh, except that he actually did something with his life — you know, helping spread apple trees to a big portion of the midwest — instead of spending all his time going on about how all women are whores.
