Search Results for nice guy
Anglobitch: “Misandrist women cannot distinguish between Nobel Prize winners and tattooed psychopaths – all are men and thus worthless brutes in their entitled eyes.”
Ladies love psychos — and Psychlos!
We hear again and again from the angry dudes of the Manosphere that women are status-seeking sluts, spending their twenties riding what has come to be known as the Alpha Asshole Cock Carousel and shutting out the hapless beta males who beg for their attention. Indeed, some Manosphere dudes are so convinced by this narrative that they devote their whole life to learning how to be (or at least how to pretend to be) the the Alphas males that the ladies allegedly prize so much.
Rookh Kshatriya on Anglobitch thinks these fellows – PUAs and “nice guys” alike — are all wrong about “Anglosphere” women. Far from preferring Alphas, he suggests, these women would rather hook up with smelly, butt-scratching losers. Literally. Here’s his, er, argument:
Because of the puritanical fictions that prevail in Anglo-American society, Anglo women have become impossible to please by rational means. … the bar has been set impossibly high. The outcome is either misandrist spinsterhood or, more often, what we see around us: a female obsession with the dregs of the male sex. …
Since no male is good enough for her, all men are flattened into an undifferentiated, priapic horde in the Anglo female’s mind. A king is a jack is a joker… a classical scholar at Yale is suddenly no better than a murderous baboon like Charles Manson. An illiterate tramp with a ring through his nose instantly acquires the same standing as an architect, physicist or surgeon.
Naturally, Kshatriya provides no actual evidence for these odd assertions, but in the wide world of misogyny that’s never a deterrent for a guy with a new dumb theory about the evils of women.
[T]his is what makes Game – so appealing to the logical male mind – so ineffective in the Anglosphere. Misandrist women cannot distinguish between Nobel Prize winners and tattooed psychopaths – all are men and thus worthless brutes in their entitled eyes. And so all the Gamers’ striving for ‘Alpha’ status is pointless – they might as well stick rings through their noses, grow some dreadlocks and slouch the streets scratching their butts. Indeed, as many North American commentators claim, their mating chances would probably improve if they did this. ‘Omega males’ doubtless confirm the Anglo female’s contempt for men in general. If she has to have a man, only the worst knave will do.
I’m pretty sure that I’ve seen “Anglo females” out strolling with men who are neither wearing dreadlocks nor sporting nose rings nor scratching their asses, but those sightings must be anomalies.
Kshatriya is convinced that social conservatives are equally wrong about the ladies:
Writers like Daniel Amneus consider female hypergamy to be the ‘glue’ that binds male consent to the social order. …. In the Anglosphere, however, rational female hypergamy has short-circuited due to our cultural bloc’s uniquely puritanical socio-moral conditions. While alphas and high betas trudge home to empty beds or divorce threats, tramps and mass-murderers wade through tons of female flesh without breaking sweat. And so the Anglosphere falls apart around our ears. Yet still David Futrelle exhorts us all to ‘respect women’ and be ‘nice’.
Woah, that was a bit of a surprise ending there.
But obviously I must be doing something terribly wrong to merit such a mention. I guess I’d better start growing out some white-boy dreads and thinking awful things about women.
Hawaiian Libertarian: “Misogyny is the key to male liberation from blue pill delusions.”
This pedestal is a trick illusion.
It’s amazing how daintily some manosphere dudes dance around the word “misogyny.”After spewing forth venomous woman-hating filth in post after post, they turn around and equally vociferously deny that they are in any way misogynistic – after all, they can think of three or four women in their life they don’t actively hate.
It’s strange. Men whose entire political and social philosophy is based on the hatred of women aren’t willing to say this out loud.
Over on Hawaiian Libertarian, a blog with some influence within the marginal universe of the manosphere, Keoni Galt is a bit more honest: he is proudly and openly misogynist. Not only that, but he’s convinced that others in the manosphere need to fully accept misogyny into their shrunken little hearts. And he’s written a little manifesto about it:
Spearheader: Feminist men are “nerds, socially awkward, sissy-gay, annoying or just plain weird.”
So WF Price and the rest of the fellas over on The Spearhead are doing a little bit of armchair psychoanalysis of the dreaded “male feminist” in general, and me in particular. It is fairly amusing stuff.
Price sets forth his highly original thesis:
If you observe genuinely feminist men, there’s something a bit off about them, and it’s tempting to chalk their feminism up to a result of some flaw or aberration in their character. Normal men (aside from those whose paycheck depends on it such as politicians and men who work for feminist-dominated institutions) simply don’t go in for feminism unless it gets them sexual gratification, but those days are pretty much over, so the remnants tend to be an assortment of freaks and guys who have a chip on their shoulder.
“But those days are pretty much over?” Evidently, Price thinks there was a time during which women were obligated to reward feminist men with “sexual gratification,” but that this is no longer the case. So “normal men” have stopped being feminists, or at least stopped pretending to be feminists.
So what are these freakish feminist men of today really getting out of it?
He blogs … just like a woman
This just in: I am a woman! Again. At least according to a blogger calling herself miliefisathand, who recently wrote a post about that “are nice guys sociopaths?” post I wrote a while ago.
Her evidence? When writing her response to me, she repeatedly found herself referring to me using female pronouns — so therefore I must actually be a woman.
Yes, that’s actually her argument:
While editing my article I lost count of the number of times I had to change “her” or “she” to “him” and “he”. I don’t normally make gender pronoun errors so I have a deep suspicion that the author is a woman impersonating a man. I’m spiritually sensitive to such things.
Hate to break it to you, but your guy-dar is way off. Protip: I post under my real name, and if you google that name, you will find ample evidence that I am, in fact, a real, living dude.
In the case of MRA dudes who misgender me as a woman, it’s clearly the result of their misogyny. In the case of miliefisathand, a self-described Smartassed Burmese Transwoman, I don’t quite understand what exactly is going on.
She also misses the point of my post, and the comments from regulars here that offered some pretty sensible criticisms of what I wrote, but at this point it’s not exactly a shock to see a Man Boobz critic arguing against things I didn’t say rather than things I did say.
Friend-zoning Out
One of approximately ten gazillion zillion “friend zone” rage comics.
I’m too lazy to write a real post today, so I thought I’d point you all to a pretty decent analysis of the dreaded “friend zone” by Foz Meadows on goodreads.
Here she is addressing the “Nice Guys” of the world:
[S]omewhere along the line, you’ve got it into your head that if you’re romantically interested in a girl who sees you only as a friend, her failure to reciprocate your feelings is just that: a failing. That because you’re nice and treat her well, she therefore owes you at least one opportunity to present yourself as a viable sexual candidate, even if she’s already made it clear that this isn’t what she wants. That because she legitimately enjoys a friendship that you find painful (and which you’re under no obligation to continue), she is using you. That if a man wants more than friendship with a woman, then the friendship itself doesn’t even attain the status of a consolation prize, but is instead viewed as hell: a punishment to be endured because, so long as he thinks she owes him that golden opportunity, he is bound to persist in an association that hurts him – not because he cares about the friendship, but because he feels he’s invested too much kindness not to stick around for the (surely inevitable, albeit delayed) payoff.
Seriously, Nice Guys, if you think of your friendship with a woman as a means to an end, or some kind of purgatory, then it’s not really a friendship, and you’re doing both yourself and your crush a disservice by persisting in it. (I learned this lesson myself the hard way, a long time before there were helpful internet posts explaining to me why Nice Guying was a recipe for crappiness all around.)
Speaking of learning: I also learned from Foz Meadows’ post that there is a Wikipedia entry for “friend zone,” complete with advice on how dudes can avoid getting “friendzoned” in the first place.
Several advisers urged men, during the initial dates, to touch women physically in appropriate places such as elbows or shoulders as a means of increasing the sexual tension. … Adviser Ali Binazir agrees, and suggested for the man to be a “little bit dangerous”, not in a violent sense, but “with a bit of an edge to them”, and be unpredictable and feel “comfortable in their skin as sexual beings.”
Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia … for Your Penis*.
Also: Here is the official Friend Zone anthem, “Consolation Prize” by Orange Juice. Lyrics here.
–
* Hetero cis penis only.
Tommy Wiseau’s The Room: An unintentional MRA classic?
A rare non-misogynistic moment in The Room
You may have heard of, if you haven’t already seen, the stupefyingly terrible film The Room. The film is so bafflingly inept and nonsensical that you’re hardly surprised to learn that writer, director, and star Tommy Wiseau had never made a film before; indeed, you might find yourself wondering if he’d ever even seen a film before.
The Room (released, barely, in 2003 and available on DVD) is a mawkishly melodramatic, and deadly serious, drama about a man betrayed by his fiancee, which Wiseau has been trying to market as a quirky comedy because no one can watch the film without laughing at his hero’s travails. Rent The Room if you want to stare dumbfounded at your TV for an hour and a half some night. Seriously, rent it.
Seeing it for myself the first time not long ago, I was struck by the manosphere-style misogyny that pervades almost every frame of the movie. It’s not an MRA film, and Wiseau is no MRA, but somehow he manages to encapsulate every terrible stereotype about men and women that most MRAs seem to believe.
The film tells the sad story of Johnny (played by Wiseau), a good-hearted, long-haired banker with an unclassifiable accent who is betrayed at work (he doesn’t get his expected promotion) and, more importantly, by his “future wife” Lisa, who blithely cheats on him with his best friend.
Lisa is portrayed like the evil bitch villain in nearly every MRA urban legend: she’s a self-absorbed twit who, in addition to cheating on Johnny, falsely accuses him of domestic violence and fakes a pregnancy just to fuck with him.
Johnny, meanwhile, is supposed to be seen as a loyal, helpful, compassionate man who cares deeply about his friends and treats his adored “future wife” Lisa like the princess he tells her she is.
I say “supposed to” because Johnny is hardly the great guy Wiseau thinks he is. For one thing, everything he does and says is bit … off, as if his body has been taken over by a space alien who’s learned everything he knows about women (and human interaction in general) by reading comments on Reddit and watching Christopher Walken as “The Continental” on Saturday Night Live without getting the joke.
For another, he’s a rage-filled narcissist with a bad case of “nice guy” entitlement and absolutely no self-awareness. When his friend Mark tells him about a woman beaten so badly she ends up in the hospital, he responds with a hearty laugh. (“What a story, Mark!”) And when he confronts Lisa about her false accusations of domestic violence (“You are lying! I never hit you!”), he angrily shoves her down onto a couch. It doesn’t seem to occur to Johnny (or to Wiseau) that this too is a form of domestic violence.
When, after learning of Lisa’s betrayal, he trashes their apartment and [SPOILER ALERT] kills himself with a conveniently located pistol, Wiseau presents it as the ultimate comeuppance to the cruel Lisa.
While you have to see the whole film to truly appreciate its epic badness, the following clips will give you some idea of what I’ve been talking about.
First, the trailer, which tries its best to cover up the film’s true weirdness:
The infamous “roof scene” in which Johnny tells Mark (the guy Lisa is sleeping with) about Lisa’s accusations of domestic violence:
A compilation of some of Johnny’s best (i.e. worst) moments:
This one (ignore the misleading title) gives you some idea of Lisa’s oblivious evilness:
Here’s Hitler reacting to the film. (Note: Not the real Hitler.)
And here, if you dare, is the whole damn movie in its entirely. (If you’re pressed for time, you may want to fast forward through the film’s five completely unerotic sex scenes, set to the worst slow jams ever recorded.)
EDITED TO ADD: Oh, and here’s the scene the gif above is from. Johnny is the most efficient flower buyer and pug-petter in the world.
A Voice for Men takes the last gravy train to Clicheville
Over on A Voice for Men, Paul Elam is knocking the clichés out of the park! In a post about … oh, something about feminists being about to get their big comeuppance, who the fuck cares, all his posts are pretty much the same at this point, he explains how the mean feminists’
gravy train is about to derail, and that right quickly. One set of wheels is already off the track. … the choo choo is hittin’ poo poo.
That’s right, the metaphorical feminist gravy train is metaphorically derailing into a metaphorical mountain of metaphorical poop.
After a few more paragraphs of this poopery, Elam offers up a bit of inspiration for his troops:
[T]he times they are a changing. The worm is turning and lies are burning. Their whole house of cards is about to go up in a puff. What you are seeing is just the desperation that comes with them waking up to it.
Believe me, it does my heart good. Just to see their frantic scrambling to point the finger at me and my brothers, while they comically pretend our sisters aren’t standing right next to us, every time one more their lies bites the dust, is an absolute highlight in my day.
Must be time to crank up the action around here.
And then he really kicks it into high gear:
Keep your eye on the ball, boys. Put the pedal to the metal. Wake up and smell the coffee, feminists, because the shoe is on the other foot now! We’re burning the candle at both ends — because when the going gets tough the tough get going. What goes around comes around. Feminists and manginas, you made your bed, now you’re going to have to lie in it. The tide’s beginning to turn, all you gender ideologues and your lackeys at the SPLC, and it looks like there’s a new sheriff in town! Remember, nice guys finish last. And it ain’t over till the fat lady sings!
Ok, that’s not really Elam any more. That’s just a bunch of random clichés borrowed from Steve’s Cliché List, with some references to feminists and manginas and the Southern Poverty Law Center shoved in here and there.
Huh. I think I just figured out how Elam writes his posts.
EDITED TO ADD: For whatever reason, this post is no longer up at AVFM; here’s the Google cache version. Read the comments there too; quite a little shitstorm going on there.
I’m giving a talk at Northwestern University on Monday. Topic: How to hate women and have terrible sex
Hot sex talk
Just a little heads up for any of you in the Chicago area: I’ll be speaking at Northwestern University on Monday, as part of its annual “Sex Week.”
My topic? “How to hate women and have terrible sex: Misogynistic sex myths, and how they ruin sex for everyone.” Nice Guys, Friend Zones, and the Alpha Asshole Cock Carousel will all make appearances.
The talk will be at 8 PM in Room G02 of Annenberg Hall on the Northwestern Campus in Evanston.
(Here’s a map.)
There will be free condoms and lube. (Apparently.)
For more about sex week, see the official website, or take a look at this piece in the Daily Northwestern.
Sex week is sponsored by the College Feminists; I’m talking at the invitation of Men Against Rape and Sexual Assault.
I’ll be writing the lecture over the weekend, so please feel free to offer suggestions as to which misogynistic sex myths I should talk about.
EDITED TO ADD: The Spearhead has discovered that I’m doing this talk. W. F. Price writes about it with his usual objectivity, by which I mean that his piece is filled with lies and weird projection.
Meet the Enriching Vibrants (and a bunch of plain old racists).
Then In Mala Fide may be right for you!
I took a look at the always reprehensible In Mala Fide today, and ran across a very strange post indeed, written by someone calling himself Finndistan. Entitled “The Unfuckables,” the post started off by recounting a conversation that allegedly took place in the real world — the same real world, dear reader, that you and I live in.
Three guys sitting, good looking girl passes by, easily a nine.
“She’s beautiful man,” says one.
“Who?”
“That one. But she likes enriching vibrants.”
“I’d rather fuck an orc as now that looks more attractive to me.”
WHAT. THE. FUCK. is an “enriching vibrant?”
I look through the rest of the post. The strangeness continues:
It seems that fucking and enriching vibrants is becoming a fashion. Fine.
The only thing is this, I am an immigrant. Neither do I enrich, nor do I vibrate;
For me, and for many other men, Finnish, Western, non-Western, these women are undateable.
For me, and for many other men, these women are…
Unfuckable.
Once you let your pussy be enriched by a vibrating man’s rod, you radiate that. You shine in the dark.
You are an enriched vibrant-fucker.
You are unfuckable.
I look through the comments and find at least one reader as perplexed as me. Ferdinand Bardamu, the terrible human being behind In Mala Fide, steps in and clarifies that “vibrants = immigrants.”
That doesn’t really clarify very much, as Finndistan says he’s an immigrant, too. Nor does it explain all the “vibrating” nonsense. I return to the post, and find Finndistan working through a labored comparison with a Japanese nuclear disaster:
Fukushima was enriched. It was full of enriched plutonium. Then the earth vibrated.
My utmost respects go out to the men who sacrificed themselves to keep the disaster in check. Their debts will never be repaid. Not by a society that has alienated its men to the point of men dropping out of society in the millions.
What I am talking about is Fuckushima.
Fuckushima was enriched. It was full of enriched spermanium. Then the bed vibrated.
Fuck me if I sacrifice myself for that.
Ok then.
Setting aside Finndistan’s bizarre visions of nuclear spermageddon, I’m still perplexed as to why some immigrants – sorry, vibrants – are evil and “enriched” and “vibrating” while others – like Finndistan – aren’t?
I go to Finndistan’s own blog in an attempt to make some sense out of whatever the fuck he’s on about. I find a post entitled “The Fashion of Fucking an Enriching Vibrant – The Curse of The Unfuckables.” It starts out with this:
Allright,
We foreign men have a problem with The Unfuckables.
The women who got vibrated by enriching cock.
The women who got enriched by vibrating cock.
The women who got enriched by a vibrant.
The women who got vibrated by an enricher.
That’s no help. I go to another post in which Finndistan purports to explain his strange terminology. Entitled “The Unfuckables – A sensible explanation,” the post offers anything but that.
An Unfuckable is a woman who has gotten fucked by an enriching vibrant. Out of love, passion, of fashion, it does not matter.
Intimate contact, any kin[d] of penetration, and any kind of fluid exchange suffices.
Ok, then, I ask again: WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. AN. ENRICHING. VIBRANT?
If I go into so much detail into The Unfuckables, I should go into some detail about enriching vibrants, enriching vibrating cock, vibrating enrichers etc.
I will call them vibrating enrichers, as this is the term I like most.
Being a vibrating enricher is a choice, so it is not something you are born with (cough cough), or something you cannot grow out of (cough cough)…
Before we go into choices, let’s go into what is not Vibrating, or what is not Enriching, thus what is also not supported by the state, the humanists, the multicultists, the diversity lovers.
Finndistan then lists a bunch of “acceptable” immigrant types, including:
The indian looking kid dressed in a smart business suit apparently having an after meeting beer with his Finnish colleague also dressed in a business suit. …
The middle eastern kid married to the same woman since I met him, who sired two kids, and is an honest working man.
The black dude who speaks perfect BBC english sitting on the table with two clearly high class Finnish girls. It is highly possible his clothing is tailored.
And then, on to those dastardly “vibrating enrichers.” Another list, including:
African kid coming over and immediately adopting to the American Gangbanger style.
The kid who’s wearing the saggin’ jeans with golden “Thug Life” embroidered throughout his ass
The middle easterner with the fake Armani shirt, pluched eyebrows, designer shapes shaved into his hair and make up on his face. …
The guy who’s choosing the gangbanger, the apaci style, over having any decent style, even including the Jersey Shore Douchebaggery. …
Basically anybody who is enriching the culture with their radioactiveness, and vibrating the culture with the vibration that made their homeland a place worthy escaping from.
So any woman who, er, exchanges fluid with any “enriching vibrant” man thus makes herself, in Finndistan’s eyes, an unfuckable.
Amazingly, the regulars back on In Mala Fide are able to get the gist of Finndistan’s rants without going to all the trouble I did. Ryu, the dude behind a blog titled White Nationalist Think Tank, comments:
Ah. So you’re talking about mixers – women who sleep with blacks, mexicans or muslims.
It’s just a step above beastiallity in my book. Her race and people are on the ropes. Enemies everywhere. Demographic crisis in the waiting. Then to show off how hip and tolerant she is or worse, to satisfy her own libido, she beds down with a protected group.
They are traitors, some of the worst offenders. The most beautiful woman in the world loses her charm after mixing. She’ll sleep with anything. Included are Heidi Klum, Nicole Kidman, and many of the people adapting negro babies.
Aleph Null adds his completely non-racist opinion:
I’m not a racist, except in the sense that anyone who recognizes reality in the USA is branded as a racist. And besides, I’m married.
But I have a very pragmatic reason for not wanting to bed a woman who “enriches vibrants.” African-Americans have 20 times the rate of Gonorrhea infection compared to whites, and 9 times the rate of syphilis and chlamydia. Blacks are 14% of the US population but accounted for 44% of new HIV infections in 2009.
The phrase “I wouldn’t fuck her with your dick” comes to mind.
PA, easily adapting himself to Finndistan’s odd lingo, adds
I find white women who slept with well-tanned enriching vibrants viscerally repulsive. Even if she’s a 9, I wouldn’t fuck her. There is something vile and unclean about her aura.
This is no offense to enriching vibrants — I wouldn’t feel that way about a non-white woman who is otherwise attractive, but who presumably has previously slept with her own kind.
A fellow with the oh-so-clever nickname Eugenick shares his racial and sexual fantasies:
I would love to enrich some Japanese, Korean or Chinese chicks myself. I could pass on my White genes for independence, individualism and creativity, while they would contribute a high IQ mean for the future generations to revert to, as well as a better predisposition for working hard. Maybe such hybrids would be the new master race. After all, marvels like Hong Kong and Singapore have emerged from the combined efforts of Asians and Whites.
Sadly, I live in a Eastern European country where the main vibrant minority are low-avg-IQ Gypsies, and Asians are close to none.
Marcus Marcellus helps to clarify what is implied when Manosphere dudes talk semi-euphemistically about the evils of women who choose “thugs” over “nice guys” like them:
To me, any white girl who kneels before a black American and puts his cock in her mouth is completely tainted trash. There’s a level of submissive degeneracy that I cannot cross. It’s a very dark, quasi-rape issue actually. …
Today, a good 10% of these Millennial sluts are actively chasing their negro a la Hollywood star, except instead of adopting one they sleep with one…until he murders them – or just beats them badly.
A whole treatise could be written on the psychology behind the current phenomenon, one that would not please feminist women as it would reveal the masochistic element in women’s sexuality. Personally, I’m only dating girls who don’t complain when I occasionally use the “n-word.” It’s a way to vet them without doing some creepy background checks. I do not hate blacks; I just don’t want to breed with them.
I would think almost any woman would be overjoyed to discover that men like these consider her “unfuckable.”
The hard life of the Alpha male. Get it? Get it? It’s a double entendre. Heh heh. Penis.
Now in pill form.
Life is tough for the beta male. During his twenties, as Manosphere dudes never tire of reminding us, women reject him, choosing instead to throw themselves wantonly at caddish alpha males.
Only after these cruel, callous women have squandered their youth and beauty – by the age of 30 if not earlier – do they turn at last to the betas, who’ve been patiently waiting in the “friend zone” the whole time. Those poor betas, nice guys and good providers all, are then lured into marriage with these now-ugly shrews, who are no longer interested in sex, and want only their money, often used to provide for kids sired by alpha males. (See here for Holly Pervocracy’s more detailed analysis of the “Greek system.”)
But life can be tough for the alpha male as well, driven to exhaustion by nearly constant sex with an incredible array of horny twentysomething women. The movie trailer below will give you some idea of just what the typical alpha male has to deal with on a daily basis.
