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.
I once read Care Bears porn on Weeping Cock. I weep for my childhood.
Also, on the Transformers slash, it was obvious that someone would do that, what with the possibilities inherent in terms like “gear box” and “transmission fluid”.
It could be worse than Transformers slash. I’ve encountered “Cars” (as in the Pixar movie) slash. “Cars” TENTACLE RAPE slash.
The internet is a scary place.
El snort.
Pokeman slash. It exists, and Weeping Cock has it. They also managed to work some pedophilia in there, just because.
(Not with human children, with baby Pokeman. There are baby Pokeman? I was not aware of this until Weeping Cock informed me.)
I’d just like to point out that, when a dude runs by me shirtless and sweaty, or walks by in a three piece suit and jaunty hat, or just a well fitting pair of jeans, my internal reaction is “thank you anonymous sir for making my day!” and then I walk on with a smile. My day is made, and he does not feel harassed by the fact that I think he is attractive. Win win!
…seriously boys. not that hard.
For those who haven’t read it yet, this Cracked.com article has a few doozies:
http://www.cracked.com/article_16554_the-5-most-baffling-sex-scenes-in-history-fanfiction.html
The one with FrankNFurter is the clear winner, but would have been funnier if they’d used the giant scary immortal.
(Can’t remember his name, played by Clancy Brown.)
Bronies have invented a new term for rule 34 of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.
I know several mid to late 16th cent “catches” which aren’t at all “polite”.
re slash, don’t forget the Han/Lando, the Han/Boba the R2/C3PO, some Luke/Obi Wan, and the Obi Wan/Annakin. We shall ignore the existence of any Jar-Jar, or Jabba the Hut slash.
I prefer to ignore the existence of Jar-Jar entirely.
In addition to Bradbury, there’s a 19th-century short story that’s exactly like this: this guy falls in love with this girl because she’s so beautiful and dainty and all she ever says is “ah, ah.” Turns out she’s clockwork.
The AI was flawless; she’s just not very into him.
Found it: it’s The Sandman by E.T.A. Hoffmann (1816). It’s super Freudian even though it predates Freud.
Eurosabra:
This actually demonstrates that Eurosabra isn’t an MRA or at least is in a separate category. Most of the MRAs don’t seem to have attained this revelation
Holly:
I think they learn Game in the hopes of not being able to wrangle unicorns.
PfkaE:
This will be news to my girlfriend.
Eurosabra: . So, I’ll just say that every man who needs to should learn Game.
Logical Fallacy: Tautology.
Audience Failure: Game has less credence here than assertions followed with neener-neener, as that might show some self-aware humor, with a hint of self-deprecation.
*wears something flashy* Hey, Eurosabra, a guy with your looks and personality must be awesome at Game. *touches his arm, leans in to whisper in ear* Neener neener.
(DOUCHE-COMBO!)
@katz
“The Sandman” was turned into a ballet called Coppelia. It ends happily, with the idiot who fell in love with the doll realizing that he should marry his girlfriend instead.
There’s also a whole section on “The Sandman” in Freud’s “Theory of the Uncanny,” which is one of the few pieces of Freud’s theory that I actually like. Mostly, he just gets things wrong…
You realise that every time you comment here you bore the crap out of us, right, Eurosabra? You’re not even irritating like most of our trolls, just really dull.
It was clearly a big influence on Freud–the eye fixation particularly.
The Sandman is also the first internal story in the opera “The Tales of Hoffman.” His two later loves end no better, and he ends up with the only woman he can truly love: a personification of his writing muse.
Okay, I have some involvement with the Mens Rights Movement (mostly as a result of being a male victim of domestic abuse)… but this is just moronic. There are some women who find me attractive, am I harming them when I walk down the street in a nice suit? Perhaps that’s the core of the issue. The author is so unattractive that they view attractiveness as some sort of supernatural power.
Perhaps a function of the fact that I’m not as dysfunctional as I could be? Or that I’m not discussing fantasies or slash with unsympathetic strangers?
Minus ten points for “pecking” or leaning in. You should be close enough that the touch is smooth and natural.
As a lady, I would like to clarify that I never assign points for anything, except that if I find out you’re tallying any sort of “points” on our interactions, that is negative infinity points.
“[M]en are effectively strapped down, gagged, and muzzled ”
I usually have to pay for that sort of thing.