Our friend Trogdor005 has returned with a new manifesto on the greatness of men and the utter suckitude of women. It’s inspiring stuff, rendered extra HEROIC through his use of CAPS, BOLD TEXT, random “quotes” and “italics,” and, from time to time, red lettering.
Trog starts by setting forth a now-familiar thesis: Men do everything, and women are just useless parasites. As he puts it:
Men … are survivors, innovators, explorers, fighters. Most importantly, we men have the ability to ADAPT to changing conditions and environments … something women are incapable of for the most part. …
Take away all the take-out/fast food, automatic cars, cell phones and place one of these self-proclaimed “strong and independent” women out in the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on her back and watch how quickly she starves to death or gets eaten by a bear/lion/tiger/hyena/snake/shark, whichever comes first.
Especially if she’s on her period. Bears love menstrual blood. Sharks, too. Whereas the average man could easily knock a bear out with a swift left hook to the jaw or fend off a shark some sort of clever shark-killing tool he’s managed to fashion out of seaweed, jellyfish and his Speedos. That’s because men are HUNTERS:
[T]he average man is a natural hunter thanks to instincts ingrained in his brain by evolution and (barring injury) can fend for himself. Women on the other hand are PARASITES that depend on, and live almost exclusively off of, MEN for their survival. Even today with all of the technology that we have, women are still COMPLETELY and HOPELESSLY dependent on men.
Trog then provides a long, long list of the things MEN and only MEN do. Some highlights:
– It is MEN that create and service the cars, trucks, and SUVs that women drive to/from work, to/from their “thug” lover’s place, to/from the mall, etc. …
– It is MEN that create and service the computers that women use to hop on Slut-book/MySpace and do their attention whoring.
– It is MEN that build and assemble the couches, sofas, recliners, and other furniture than women use to sit on their fat asses watching shows like “Oprah”. …
– It is MEN that toil and sweat in the fields in scorching temperatures, collecting the raw vegetables/fruits that are then shipped to the grocery stores that women visit.
– It is MEN that work in dangerous unsanitory conditions inside the meat/butcher plants to provide safe meats to the fast-food/take out chains that women frequent.
– It is MEN in the form of police, security guards, and soldiers that provide women with a “safe atmosphere” in which they can walk around freely at night.
– It is MEN in sweat shops halfway across the world, working in some cases for nothing but a meal, that produce the “designer clothes” women buy and wear.
– It is MEN in semi-trucks that transport all of the goods I just mentioned (except real estate of course) to their intended destination and “keep the machine turning”.
– It is MEN that set up and maintain the necessary electrical, telecommunications, and sewage “grids” that make “civilized life” possible….
– And finally, it is MEN who venture deep into the deadly, hazard prone “diamond mines” located in remote locations to retrieve the raw stones which are necessary for, and later cut to create the shiny looking object that goes in THE RING
The bottom line is, women need men, but men DON’T need women.
So here is a collection of pictures of Women Who Do Not Exist, in the World of Trogdor:
Trogdor follows his list of Things That Only Men Do with another familiar MGTOW fantasy:
And of course, if things go total “Road Warrior” on us and the electrical, financial, and transportation grids finally fail altogether, women will be in an even more untenable position. I suspect they will be getting raped, robbed, and otherwise not be safe in “the streets”. The police will NOT help, let alone “other” men … who will not have forgotten all the abuse these same women imposed on them in years past via “divorce”, “child support”, “false rape accusations”, “sexual harrassment”, and “I cheated on you … I love you _____ but I’m not IN love with you”. Aside from the contempt for/distrust of women that will have been built up over the years in such a scenario, most men will simply be too busy trying to survive to the next day to give a fuck about some “desperate” single mom that comes to their front door begging for food.
Has anyone else noticed just how much MGTOWers love talking about how bad women will have it when The Shit Hits The Fan? How much they enjoy fantasizing about women being robbed and raped in a lawless world? How much Trogdor seems to relish the notion of single mothers (and presumably their kids) starving to death?
Trogdor continues on, suggesting that our future looks a lot like “any African country where lawlessness reigns.” Naturally, he manages to throw in yet another reference to women “in constant fear of being raped or robbed every time they are walking thru the streets.”
He ends with this happy picture of the End Times:
The smart men will expat before shit hits the fan and watch the entire debaucle from a safe distance. The “thugs” will not go anywhere and will simply rob the women to deal with their “food shortage” issues. The manginas will cower in the corner like pussies … unable to grasp reality, and will also be robbed of their food, water, and possessions by the “thugs” and “bad boys”. The real losers will be women in the end (as it always is following these “Feminist” periods of history … look what happened to women in Babylon, Greece, Egypt, Rome, etc), I suspect many of them will be reduced to fucking for food. …
I’m not really quite sure I’m willing to accept the dire prognostications of someone who can’t spell the word “debacle.”
Off topic, but the lady electrician is as cute as a button.
In regards to the whole “When the apocalypse comes, you’ll be sorry!” thing. It makes me think of Chick Tracts. Convert to JEE-ZUS-AH or giant winged scorpions will sting you to fuck and back when Revelation hits.
@Percyprine I have noticed that the “it’s a dangerous neighbourhood out there, shame if anything happened to your store, if you don’t give me what I want, I can’t control what happens to you” protection money thing seems a favourite well to go to of these types xD
That or “I can’t control if any mechanical uteri stealing spider bots come after you” xD
@Ami Angelwings
“there will be no hormones and trans ppl will be left scrambling and confused and easy prey, and they’re just trying to help them pre-emptively by being against transitioning in the present >_>;;”
That makes me headdesk more than “there are no wimmin in sweatshops!” Don’t they know that not everyone trans takes hormones? ><
I’m fairly certain that if my brother was ever attacked by a wild beast in the wilderness, his only instinct would be to roll over, play dead, and hope that his attacker would be repelled by the thick layer of hair gel his bonce is constantly coated in before it could do any serious damage.
Just saying.
Now I’m off to call a therapist. Last week I hallucinated that I assembled a huge bookcase. It’s very troubling… I can still see it!
“Yo Trogdor, bit of a question here. If we were to throw you into the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on your back, how long do you think you’ll last?”
Indeed, I wonder two things when I read this sort of ignorant paean to “living off the land:” first, how many people could really live for any significant time without the machinery of civilization? I know I couldn’t. I just don’t have the skills.
Which brings me to my next question: who cares? Even in an imaginary world where all six billion of the world’s people could fend for themselves in the wilderness, any hypothetical breakdown of society is going to be very unpleasant for everyone. Knowing the difference between edible and poisonous berries is not going to save your ass on The Road, I guarantee you.
@Molly no… xD I think the point was the old saw that trans ppl are just a silly affectation that first world rich privileged ppl can afford to “play at”… I notice the common thread of the apocalypters is the whole “well in the mad max future, you wouldn’t have the (perceived) life you have now, so you should give up and live the way I want you to, cuz it’s for your own good” xD Anything that you do now that you wouldn’t be able to do when the machines are rampaging over the post-nuke landscape is something you should give up. xD (like writing apocalyptic posts online! xD )
Like right now, I’m sitting outside in a Starbucks patio w/ my coffee wondering where all the ppl coming out of the store are coming from, cuz I dun remember there being that many ppl in it when I was getting my coffee xD This is like the clown car of Starbucks! But if this was the post apocalyptic world, i’d be sitting outside a lab/factory with my shotgun carving this post in the crumbling wall next to me wondering where all the zombies/terminators were coming from xD
And ppl would find: “This is like the clown car of production factories! xD – AA” carved into the wall next to my corpse (complete with the xD )
(Just for funsies I encourage everybody here to post what they are doing ATM and the analogue of what they WOULD be doing in the post apocalyptic future xD )
I can’t imagine taking out a tiger with my bare hands, but I can imagine whittling a pen to write blog posts on birch bark using berry juice ink after the Apocalypse…
(Also, dang, the threads really don’t do much until the MRAs get here, do they?)
Ami, yeah the apocalypse fantasy is popular with all sorts of people, whom invariably portray the post-apocalyptic world as a big object lesson in why they were right all along. In the midst of all that Y2K paranoia the Utne Reader people put out a special supplement on what to do when the Y2K apocalypse came. It turned out, basically, to be a happy cooperative world headed up by Utne Reader subscribers, who had quickly assembled little local co-ops to take care of everybody.
I wrote about it at the time:
http://dimflash.blogspot.com/2007/06/apocalypse-later-y2k-letdown.html
@Molly Ren: I’m trying my best! I even used up one of my theoretical extra lives! Dx (luckily I have the infinite lives code >:3 )
I am Trogdor of the Hill People! Much have I seen, and much have I done! Will you not join me? For I am Trogdor of the Hill People!
“The police will NOT help, let alone “other” men … who will not have forgotten all the abuse these same women imposed on them in years past via “divorce””
yup..
“child support”
huh huh..
“false rape accusations”
predictable..
“sexual harrassment”
mmhm…
“I cheated on you … I love you _____ but I’m not IN love with you”
err, what?
Ok, the cheating part I get… sorta kinda… But its wrong, nay, abuse, to say “I love you, but not in that way?” Aren’t emotions a wild, complex issue that can’t be broken down into “I want to spend my whole life with you and only you” and “I want nothing to do with you, you sick freak?” I could easily imagine some people that I could say I “loved,” (or at least care deeply about), or perhaps might enjoy having sex with on occasion, but not enough to settle down with them.
And this sort of thing is put on the level of false rape accusation (terrible if true) and sexual harrassment. Oi.. Sad that the other two, divorce and child support, are so commonly given as forms of abuse that I don’t even bat an eye at the person who does the claiming… As if making you pay for a child you had but don’t want to raise is as bad of an attack on your manhood as molestation…
I’ve been helping out at a local Farmers Market recently, and trust me, there are plenty of women who could live off the land if they needed to, and teach others to do the same.
It’s like MRAs think if a woman is standing in the middle of a forest with no man around to see her, that she doesn’t exist or doesn’t do anything.
I’ve had moving parties with all-women groups. I’ve helped out at construction projects where the women were more willing to work than the men were. I and my fellow pit percussionistas in marching band could move all our equipment by ourselves if we had to, which was often the case. Most of us in the United States have probably been to a Thanksgiving dinner where the women did all or most the work while the men watched football.
How convenient for MRAs to write off women as a whole as lazy, then ignore the many women that actually can and do work hard. Like saying parrots can’t talk and ignoring the parrots that actually do.
Molly, have faith. “If you post it, they will come.”
@Ami:
Well, I’m currently in my room trying to get over what I just learned was Bronchitus… Soo, I guess in the post-apocalyptic thing which I somehow survived, I’d probably be huddled up and shivering in a cave somewhere, hoping to get rescued before I get found.
In essance, I’d be screwed… 🙁
Okay I’m way too hot, I’m going back home xD
If this was a post apocalyptic world, my cybernetic warsuit would be too bathed in radiation and I would need to go back into the rebel base to be decontaminated (and get a fresh supply of ovaries to power it) xD
In the Mad Max future, the hotel where I work will operate on the barter system. I’ll check in guests, and collect the chickens, hogs, apples, pottery, wicker baskets, and hamsters they use to pay for their rooms. My weekly “paycheck” will take the form of a basket of fruit, a jar of olive oil, and a side of beef.
Aw man, ovary-powered cybernetic warsuits? You gals get all the cool stuff! *pout*
@David Futrelle Ah, the Y2K panic! How did I forget about that?
I think another component to the end-of-the-world fantasy is that it’s, in a perverse way, very emotionally satisfying. No more reading on the news about the latest disaster & wondering how it will effect you: everything’s just *over*, all at once!
(Not that I actually want one to happen, just thinking about the catharsis in some disaster movies I’ve seen.)
This is also reminding me why I love to read Octavia Butler novels.
@kirbywarp Every time I get a debilitating headache (they’re not quite migranes…yet) and smash it with Ibuprofen I am really, really glad I live in the present. In Victorian times, my only cure would have been to lay on a couch in a dark room with a wet cloth… or not even that if I was, say, a chambermaid.
Let’s see, I got back from a cookout a little while ago, so in apocalyptic world…
I met up with a group of weary survivors, huddling in a hut to protect us from the scorching radiation, sharing the last of our rations in memory of the beginning of these troubled times. We do not know where our next meal will come from. Probably Eddie.
Oh, and I should probably explain that the elevators will be powered by banks of hamster wheels. If you want elevator privileges, you have to contribute to the hamster pool.
@Molly I wanted to qualify that I meant No I dun think they realize that some trans ppl dun take hormones : (I realized my no might have sounded too flip : )
@Johnny Pez I want to live in your post-Apocalypse. I’ll be a hamster farmer.