Apparently, or so I’ve learned from the manosphere, every single thing that women do is designed to torment men. Yesterday, we learned that women with jobs are leeching off of men just as much as women without jobs.
Further proof of female perfidy can be found in a recent post on the popular manosphere blog In Mala Fide with the provocative title Provocative Female Attire is an Assault Against Men. Guest poster Giovanni Dannato lays it out for anyone who needs convincing:
When a woman walks down a crowded sidewalk in revealing clothing, she is forcing herself on every man nearby.
The woman fully understands the powerful biological drives of men. She knows they cannot ignore her, not even if they want to.
Amazingly, the fact that a woman might show some cleavage does not automatically mean that she wants to have sex with every single man who sees her.
She has chosen to advertise herself to everyone passing by, but she is looking only for a few men. The wealthiest, the most famous, the most powerful men she can attract. …
There’s an old elementary school custom…when you bring something tasty to class, it’s understood that you should put it away unless you intend to share it with others. …
Likewise, a woman who puts her goodies blatantly on display is making false advertisements. Nobody supposes or expects that she could share herself with her entire audience—not even if she wanted to.
That’s right. Women are like gum. Or that pizza Spicoli had delivered to him in class in Fast Times at Ridgemont High that the mean Mr. Hand forced him to share with everyone. And if you gum-pizza-ladies are not willing to share yourself with every horny man (and, presumably, lesbian) who happens to notice you in your slut uniform, you are committing a terrible infraction.
Oh, sure, wearing a totally cute outfit is not specifically against the law, but, as Dannato reminds us,
looking for refuge in explicit written law is inherently disingenuous. …
[W]omen exposing themselves without intent to reciprocate the attention they attract is impolite and inconsiderate – an act of aggression in which they use the power of their sex as a weapon.
So how can men defend themselves against such evil feminine perfidy? By yelling “hey, whore! How much?” or “can I squeeze those titties?” or “Can you give me directions to Pussy Avenue?” Because street harassment – sorry, catcalling – is
a defense mechanism used by lower status men against women flaunting themselves publicly – for the benefit of millionaires only.
What else are men supposed to do?
[M]en are effectively strapped down, gagged, and muzzled while females can flaunt and taunt with impunity. For many men this pretty much sums up every single day of an entire lifetime at school and at work.
And women won’t even admit that when they put on a cute outfit and leave the house that they’re doing it to torment men.
Western Women don’t just abuse their incredible sexual power, they pathologically lie about their inability to understand the effects and implications of their actions. In fact, they seem to derive a sort of sociopathic pleasure from being able to sow unpleasantness and discord without consequence – all while playing innocent. They express their contempt and hatred for men even as they troll the populace for providers. Their enormous power comes without responsibility and they love it that way.
And now these evil women have come up with an even-more-dastardly-than-usual way to torment men “[i]n the most vengeful, derisive, and mocking way they know how.” Yep, you guessed it: The SlutWalks. Large groups of women tormenting men with sexy clothes in unison!
Apparently overwhelmed by contemplation of the sheer feminine evil of the SlutWalks, Giovanni ends his post abruptly at this point.
I admit I don’t have the patience to wade through the comments. If any of you do, please post any of your findings below.
EDITED TO ADD: Ironically, Ferdinand Bardamu (the guy behind In Mala Fide) aids and abets the evil sexy-woman assault on men with his own retro porn site Retrotic. NSFW, of course. And if Dannato’s post is to believed, not safe for straight men generally.
NOTE: This post contains sarcasm.
Actually, since both catches and Purcell have been brought up in the last few comments – one of my favorite Purcell catches is remarkably appropriate for this blog. It goes as follows:
Once, twice, thrice, I Julia tried;
The scornful puss as oft denied.
And since I can no better thrive,
I’ll cringe to ne’er a bitch alive.
So kiss my arse, disdainful sow –
Good claret is my mistress now!
MGTOW: A Proud Tradition of Over 400 Years Of Whining About Not Getting Laid.
(It is a great piece, though. I particularly love the long upward run on “So kiss my arse! So kiss my arse! So kiss my arse! So kiss my arse!”)
I have a friend who composes catches (usually in the form of a canon or round) with hidden texts; we usually sing them concealed (i.e. full, without emphasis) before starting to accent syllables here and there to bring out the hidden message (sometimes with it’s own tune also, which has been surreptitiously hidden in the round). Purcell, mentioned earlier, was a noteworthy contributor to the genre.
Damn it links, y u no work?
The hard way then.
@ Polliwog
Secret message?
And DKM really just fills me with pity again.
@Hershele Ostropoler,
Well, the OP isn’t much of an issue for me, so I have to fill the space with something, and “You are wrong neener neener” does not carry much weight here. So, I’ll just say that every man who needs to should learn Game.
http://skin-horse.com/comics/10162008/
Aw, I’m glad you plugged your comic ’cause now I’m finally getting around to reading it just now! Ps. Tip, what kind of sillybilly wears heels in the event of possible/likely lion attack? Get thee to a Reebok. -_-
Eurosabra:
You don’t. Trust me, you really don’t.
I cannot technically argue with this statement.
I can just add that every man who needs to should learn unicorn wrangling.
Pyena,
here’s an example of a song with a hidden text in the lyrics:
I worship on the mountain for that’s where the Lord did say: “I am the way”
The hidden text, in the order which you hear it in the song (it being a round, like Row, row your boat) comes out like this:
I worship the Lord Satan.
You know, I’ve gone to parties in nothing but three strategically placed leaves and some body paint, and yet people not only managed not to rape or harass me but also to be interested in my opinions and respect me as a person.
Under these circumstances, people are much more likely to wear nothing but three strategically placed leaves and some body paint.
More examples of choral steganography courtesy of my friend (4 and 3 part rounds respectively):
Slartibartfast is the name that’s listed;
Slartibartfast likes a coast that’s twisted.
(Slartibartfast is a farty bastard.)
“Give me time to understand the fairer sex my dear, I am but a man”, but “No!” she cried, her face all wet.
(Give me sex!, she cried, I am all wet!)
I went to multiple parties as Wonder Woman, who’s pretty much the symbol of bondage. I got respected too.
Sorry, HTML fail in the second line of the first poem: Slartibartfast likes a coast that’s twisted.
Eurosabra – if you have nothing relevant to say, then be quiet.
On the issue of ye olde time people – yeah, Meller is pretty clueless about how bawdy people have always been, and how human. I don’t think he understands that what he wants isn’t a woman from another era, it’s a woman who’s not human at all, and there have never been any of those. Basically what he wants is a future that looks superficially like the past, so…has anyone introduced him to steampunk?
Then again, most steampunk ladies are entirely too strong-minded for his liking. Back to the dolls it is.
If the black hole of trollish incomprehension is actually sucking in some of the “space” towards the derp singularity, thereby decreasing the space’s volume, can that count as “filling” the space because there is now technically less space just as would be the case were he actually filling it? Discuss!
Polliwog and Xanthe: Those are all at least twenty kinds of awesome.
Also, if you want a very silly, very easy to hear example of one of those “hidden messages,” google “PDQ Bach ‘Please Kind Sir'” and watch any of the resulting videos.
@Xanthe
That’s pretty cool!
My friends and I like to break out in the occasional musical number. Now I’ve got to see if I can get them to sing one of those with me. XD
He could make a life-like, clockwork steampunk doll like some lovely futuristic Galatea, and dress her in the finest softest clothes and teach her to sit with him, and make tea, and when he presses his hand to her cheek the little gears in her mouth will tilt her lips up just so in a sweet smile, and the only sound she’ll make will be the soft melody of the music box inside her chest where a heart should be. And when he dies she’ll continue on making tea every evening and sitting daintily on the loveseat and singing with her little music box, and turning the little gears in her mouth, and stepping over his body as it rots into the filthy carpet.
@Bagelsan: Are you by chance a fan of There Will Come Soft Rains?
Today’s outfit ended up being a long black velvet dress with a short-sleeved sweater over the top, matched with calf-high boots. Outside I’m wearing my winter coat, so my scandalously sexual bare arms aren’t visible to passers-by. I think Meller might actually approve of today’s ensemble, were it not for the fact that there is a slit along the left side of the skirt, showing about 6 inches of knee and knee-adjacent flesh. I have therefore decided that I am a Real Woman ™, but my left knee is a dirty harlot.
@Lauralot: I actually haven’t heard of that, is it a book?
Somebody should introduce NWO to slash. Just to fuck with his head.
“@Lauralot: I actually haven’t heard of that, is it a book?”
It’s a short story by Ray Bradbury. Basically in the future, civilization is destroyed by nuclear war, and the story details an automated house carrying on as though its occupants are still alive. Your post reminded me of it.