Readers! Commenters! I am now (a bit late, I know) collecting nominations for Man Boobz Troll of the Year. Put forward your choice (or choices), and make the case for them, in the comments below. Feel free to make up your own categories for Troll Awards as well; I want to recognize the many and varied contributions of our many and varied trolls.
The winner(s) will receive little tiaras. But they have to go buy them for themselves, with their own money.
I am also collecting nominations for Man Boobz Troll Hunter of the Year – that is, the commenter or commenters here who you think have fought the good fight in the bestest possible ways. Again, you are free to make up your own categories for these awards.
The winner(s) here will receive a FREE viewing of the movie TrollHunter!It’s Norwegian! And really quite awesome, a faux documentary about the life of a Trolljegeren working secretly for the Norwegian government. Scary and hilarious!
Oh, and by “free viewing” I mean you can watch it on Netflix instant, if you’ve got Netflix. Hey, I’m kind of broke here. On the plus side, you can watch it even if you don’t win!
DKM
A little history for you. Have you ever heard the terms “new money” vs. “old money”?
Really old money meant women and men did not work except for the work it is to maintain the look of money ie: telling the servants under your care what to do.
Let’s look at a rather modern US example, the deep south before the end of slavery.
The husband was in charge of the plantation but he had an overseer (a man) to deal with the day to day drudgery of actually making the plantation work. The overseer wasn’t paid a great deal, there was no middle class back then of course so the overseers wife would actually have to homestead (I’ll let you look that up).
The wife was in charge of the house, I would argue that she had actually more day to day work to do as she was the overseer of the house and probably spent more time bossing around black people then her husband did, as he could cushion himself against the realities of his plantation through his low-paid overseer.
What does the above example has to do with modern day living? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Less then nothing. Worse then nothing. Repugnant.
Yet you seem to be still living in those times, I find you fascinating. I also voted for you.
shorter DKM:
“You don’t exist!!!!!!!!!!!!! You don’t exist!!!!!!!!!!! YOU WHA-?!!!!
btw, who hits nails on buttons?
@Lauralot
I thought humanity made a collective decision to never acknowledge that movie’s existence
“btw, who hits nails on buttons?”
The same sort of person who wanks to Madame Alexander dolls and Hello Kitty?
Cute. Fuzzy. Little. Lady. Lovelies.
Is this guy real? REALLY real? REALLY??
I see Meller is continuing his delusion that he gets to decide who’s female and who’s a feminist bitch. Cooking, cleaning, childcare, craft skills – all are meaningless unless one is willing to be his complete and total slave.
It can be trying at times, but common reality is a lot less scary than wherever the fuck he lives.
PS: FUCK RIGHT OFF
Meller, you ignorant twit: ! I have no doubt as to my masculinity or my heterosexuality,
Neither do the feminists you want to test have any such doubts about their femininity. Sauce for the goose and all that. I am certain there are a number of people who do so doubt your masculinity. I don’t, I merely question your grasp on reality.
As to the sockpuppet, there is no use denying it. 1: avatars are linked to address, but the most important part is that our earnest host holds all new-email addresses in moderation. That your post has so many of your personal tics (some of which seem to be compulsive, such as the reference to compliant women as furry and loveley), as well as the form being consistent with your previous posts, were strong indica.
There are some syntatic differences, but those are of just the sort someone doing an quick effort to mask style induldges in, which is, again, an indicator of masquerade.
I shall not (in the interest of avoiding any actual increase in the difficulty required) add the most important aspects of knitting a sock which won’t stripped off your hands in the speed this one was; not because I think you actually capable of the discipline required to do those three additional things, but because I don’t see the need to make it easier for someone else to create the Chaos, that such an act of Sprezzatura could cause.*
*Anyone who gets the references in the last clause should enjoy some warm fuzzies, as there is topical allusion.
The Only Roger Cramwell I can find anything about was a bit of a petty miscreant who was adjudged at the Manor Court on 4 Sept, 1553 RAMSEY. ESTREAT OF THE COURT WITH VIEW OF FRANKPLEDGE HELD THERE ON 4 SEPTEMBER, IN THE FIRST YEAR OF THE REIGN OF MARY, BY THE GRACE OF GOD QUEEN OF ENGLAND, FRANCE AND IRELAND, DEFENDER OF THE FAITH AND SUPREME HEAD ON EARTH OF THE ENGLISH AND IRISH CHURCH.*
12 d. each from John Auberie, John Bedforthe, Robert Benson, Leonard Poulter, Thomas Ungell, John Freton and Roger Cramwell for mowing sedge in the marsh of Ramsey and carrying it away without licence
There are no, exact records I can find for any “Roger T Cramwell”. Perhaps he’s trying to be clever (with variations on, “rogering” and the idea said person is good at it, though the idea of, “cramming well” as a euphemism for good sex is sort of off-putting).
One must be amused at the sheer amount of work which the Mellers and NWOs of the world have to do to maintain their illusions. Meller insists that there can’t be feminists who have happy relationships with men. He argues that’s it’s somehow impossible. Feminism is an aberration; perhaps even genetic†, which depends on outside forces to maintain itself and would founder without the renegade males who suborn the blatant hatred of all that is good and right and just in the world.
Never mind that there are lots of feminists, lots of happily married people and apparently not one single woman of the compliant and fluffy nature which Meller argues to be the normal state of woman to which; as soon as society refuses to allow women to act as feminists, women will revert (despite the genetics Meller seems to believe in).
And, of course, the apolgia for abuse. Mind you, if life with a Meller was what I had to look forward to, I could understand a violent separatism, one that looked to making it certain that such ideas could never spread. Doing it would be wrong, but if there were armies of men like him; making sure they can’t breed would be completely comprehensible.
*which would have been late August, because the calender hadn’t yet been corrected.
† which may explain his urge to kill off all the feminists when the Mellibertopia is imposed.
” Let us just simply say that I am allergic to “strong women:” and let it go at that.!
You meant to say afraid of strong women, right?
I do cooking! Badly, except for pastries, But I do it. And sewing, for button and with a sewer machine. Because I’m still an evil feminist, I tried to teach boyfriend, but so far he preferred to buy new trousers than touch a needle. I also do cleaning and washing, but so do boyfriend (as well as cooking) because we both live alone in our apartments.
What’s left… I don’t have kids, so once all the above is done I’ve still got plenty of time to go to class. And if I ever got some, well that’s what daycares, then school, and salary are for. (or any other arrangement than “I don’t live home for 18 years” decided at that moment)
That’s why your offer is so not tempting Meller: your fantasy world is a mix of
– impossible to hold promises, like there will be NO abuse, which is never guaranteed in any society and certainly not Mellertopia
– thing we already have or can have, like love and housework
– things we don’t want, like obligations to follow a very narrow path, being submissive (obviously, I don’t mean BDSM)
*leave. I don’t leave home, I swear I know how to write! 🙁
I <3 cooking! =D But I can't sew for shit =(
For me, being a Meller girl would mean denying the person that I am and being miserable. Fuck you Meller! I want to wear pants and play video games and drink beer! Plenty of people, men and women, like me for who I am already. I don't need to play dress-up or make babies to fit into society. Thank god XD
I just went back to the “Cramwell” comment, to see if there were actual differences in the writing. Well, I guess there are some, if you pay attention, which I did not do the first time. I would like to add a bit to Viscaria very good guide.
Step 0: Don’t refer to the other-yourself at the first person. Don’t. That makes no sense. That the most basic effort you could do.
Plus, you already had kind of apologized and even seem maybe shameful for that, so why boast about one of the most cruel and hateful thing you’ve said? Either you took badly your second place in the poll or the lovelies forgot to buy you Christmas present, because right now you’re going downhill. Fast.
Anyway, we’re still waiting for example of what we said that could bring understandable violence. So far, the best I’ve got on this blog is “Haha, you deserve you cancer and it’s funny a bit of you is being cut”
Meller spake: The wearer is still about as attractive as a dead fish!
Mmm… sushi!
On a more serious note… it’s interesting to me, that you have this pathologic desire to impose your kink on the world; and maintain the universality of it in the face of all evidence to the contrary.
Because it’s not as if Manboobz is the only place there are feminists who are happy. It’s not as if there are vast swarms of men who can’t get love and affection looking to have subsitutional relationships with fetish objects. But you seem to believe that women secretly want to be slaves. You seem to believe men want to have slaves as; I don’t know, I can’t call them partners, companions I suppose.
I don’t know why. What pleasure is to be found with a person who can’t leave? Whose limited liberties lie in the ways they can make someone else believe they are worshipped and adored? How could one take the blandishments and affections of such a person at face value?
If a partner of mine comes to the couch and snuggles with me, and nibbles on my neck and tells me she loves me, I have never had reason to doubt it. If she were a slave to my whims… how could I believe it? If I could beat her on the meanest excuse… what then to any effusion of fondness from her? That’s not love, it’s fear.
Don’t try to tell me that “gentleness and gesture of affection” are better training tools than force. I know it’s true. I’ve trained cats to jump through hoops, and horses to bow, but they are brutes. So far as I can tell they don’t have the reason to know that I could have had a cattle prod in my back pocket, out of sight, and chosen to use it, “if I was unreasonably provoked” by them not jumping/bowing when I made the least hint of desire.
Because people are aware of that . A slave knows the master can use force at whim. You want women to be slaves. You say you despise force, but slavery demands force. Sometimes you make it social force… be a good slave or be sold, “down the river” (sorry, if you aren’t adequately compliant to the demands of the Mellibertopa, you will be forced to fuck for food, or starve in the street: Kinder, Küche, Kirche, the “House of Entertainment, or The Gutter”, you will give women those three choices.
Delude yourself, I don’t really care, but don’t tell me shit is shinola. That’s what you want… women as slaves, men as masters, and no honest love in the world.
Fuck you.
Oh, wow, catching up on the threads since New Year’s Eve has been hilarious. Happy New Year everyone!
Look at the Mellert-toad’s ongoing shit fit about losing Troll of the Year. It’s as cute as baby shoes.
Meller-toad, is it safe to assume that your harem -the little lady lovelies and plush fluffies- weren’t especially successful in making the holiday season an oasis of warmth, comfort, light, and laughter? I’m guessing their Christmas gifts to you may have lacked a little insight? They didn’t go the extra mile, like a homemade angel or popcorn string, when decorating the tree? And they probably skimped on the cinnamon when making the mulled the wine? I bet they didn’t do anything particularly special for New Year’s Eve either, right?
Take heart, Meller-toad. It’s probably hard to navigate amazon.com and gift wrap beautifully with those little plastic fingers and furry paws. Also, they’re highly flammable so it makes sense for them to avoid the kitchen as much as possible. Plus, you know, there’s that whole inanimate object thing. Very limiting.
Bedsores and Loneliness!!!!
Nobinayamu
Dude. I had two Madame Alexander dolls when I was a *very* wee tot. I had relegated them to the upper reaches of the closet long since even when I was still playing with Barbies. They’re literally baby dolls.
Please tell me this guy is a troll in the Andy Kaufman sense.
@ Belle – Nope, he seems to be quite sincere. He actually tried to recruit another commenter to the doll-loving ranks at one point.
Join us, my friends! We have creepy little dolls and Hello Kitty plushies that you can use as sex aids!
…
“Would you like some more tea, Polly Prissy Pants?”
By the way Meller, what’s your beef with video games exactly? I would think that at the very least dating sims would be right up your alley.
Ah, but what do women(?) do but break their promises?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?111111111111111
YOU GUYS TORI SPELLING’S MOM IS ON HGTV RIGHT NOW AND SHE HAS A MUSEUM OF MADAME ALEXANDER DOLLS IN HER HOUSE I CAN’T EVEN MAKE THIS UP.
Who’s Tori?
She’s an actress, I think. There was an entire show about her mom selling a house, so she must be some sort of celebrity.
Tori Spelling, daughter of Aaron Spelling, who produced some of the greatest TV shows of all times, such as The Love Boat, Fantasy Island, Charlie’s Angels, Beverly Hills 90210, and Seventh Heaven. Tori starred in 90210 (auditioning under a different name, so it totes wasn’t fixed, you shut up, haterz!) and, even better, the Lifetime movie to end all Lifetime movies, Mother May I Sleep With Danger?
“By the way Meller, what’s your beef with video games exactly?”
He’s really old and so he just doesn’t get them.
Mrs. Spelling also had a room in her mansion devoted to wrapping presents. She’s a little, um, what’s the word, rich.