Today I’m feeling lazy, so I’m just going to pass along some thoughts from Mark Minter, a fellow best known, insofar as he is known, for leaving melodramatic manospherian manifestos – look, three “m’s” in a row! — in other people’s comments sections. I’ve written about him before — twice! — and he’s recently returned to his old habit of leaving his droppings in the comments here.
This little masterpiece of purplish prose, however, was left in the comments section of Roosh V’s Return of Kings blog (and brought to my attention by a commenter here), where he gets a much friendlier reception than he gets in these parts. His topic: Returning to the United States after spending time abroad. (I’ve cut out big chunks of his comments, as Minty is a tad long-winded.)
I have been back 3 years and I do not seek to engage America in any way. I stay home, on the internet. I shop in the middle of the night for food. When I must be out in the day, I move quickly, efficiently. I interact little with this society that I am no longer a part of. Some of that is age but a lot of is that I have killed my American self and I feel no affection for it, no loyalty to it, and I shall discard it forever, soon. The only connection is feel to it is you, you band of renegade rebels to whom I feel a kindred spirit.
We few, we happy few, we band of douchebags!
Despite the claims of feminists, America is the Matriarchy, the land owned and dominated by women and their mangina menservants, their guards, their infrastructure that so caters to them, their laws.
Yes, it’s true. Along with its mangina manservants — hi, everybody! — America has a Matriarchal Infrastructure. For example, this power plant, located just outside Dacron, Ohio, is devoted entirely to providing electricity for women’s Hitachi Magic Wands.
Anyway, back to Mark’s riveting ruminations:
You see it when upon landing in America. In other places, immigration is almost a “lip service”, a gang of sorts to get money from you when you arrive and when you leave. The security you must pass, when entering. is almost a joke compared to what you encounter when you arrive in America. And it is far greater when you leave, those airlines and airport security forces have a procedure that is not so much that the idea of the country you are leaving, but rather the dictates of America, and its women.
Clearly, only women want border security. If it were up to men, anyone could just waltz in no questions asked, carrying bombs, heroin, large snakes, strange insects, bootleg t.A.T.u. CDs, what have you.
And here you are not a man, but a functionary, a manservant, a slave to women. You see it when you arrive, you feel it, you know it, that stripping of your masculine dignity that begins the moment you leave the plane and enter an American terminal, that herding, that loss of the you that is you. And you see it as you come out on these clean, lit streets, this great giant boring shopping mall, all designed for women, all policed for women, all at the behest of women and those manginas that have bought in … .
Damn you, America and your good lighting! Fuck you and your infernal lack of litter!
It is more than merely cultural, more than social, it is even biological. This matriarchy has dominated even nature here, controlled every last aspect, even the dirt, even the germs, all of the animals, and certainly, all of the men.
It’s true. ALL OF THE ANIMALS. Even my cats are women. Spoiled, pampered women who expect everything handed to them on a silver platter!
Well, not so much a silver platter as little paper plates. Also, I make them poop in a box. But you get the idea.
If you stay, you will remain in angst, a slave to women.
When I close my eyes the image I see is elsewhere.
Weird. I see the completely unilluminated inside of my eyelids, which is not a terribly interesting view.
And when I die, the fact I got to live elsewhere for a time, will dwarf what I feel about here. It is the basis of my rants about marriage and this American life as a married man being insipid, stupid, and a waste of the life of man. Because it ties you to here, it chains you, it removes your option, your hope, that you might leave, and seals your fate as a slave.
So, I guess … don’t get married then? Problem solved!
I don’t think the women of Matriarchal America are going to miss out greatly from you removing yourself from the marriage market. So, seriously, go right ahead.
NOTE: There is no Dacron, Ohio.
What have the
Romansmatriarchs done for us?@Aaliyah:
Congratulations – but more importantly, good luck and I hope you find your university experience to be everything you wanted and a few things that pleasantly surprise you, with a bit of managable inconvenience to add some spice and colour.
@David Futrelle:
Not a clue. Was here for ages before posting anything (scared, worried, anxious, trouble phrasing and not wanting to cause offense).
Don’t remember where or how. I think… Maybe it was a happy google accident? Something related to PuA’s or MRA’s or anti-feminists and my frustration and confusion with both, and then I read the archieves and couldn’t leave. Now I’m stuck. Bound to this place like some spirit. Couch is top notch, though, so don’t even mind.
But I don’t know. It’s lost in the past, somewhere in the fogs of the capsizing memory unit that binds past, present and future. I do know this is one of my favorite pages on the internet.
And that you people are all several shades of awesome.
Hurrah for that!
@Post:
The strange thing about Mittens entire rant is that *that* is actually a nicely poetic turn of phrase. It’s so jarring, so alien to the otherwise stumbling, floundering turn of phrase.
“When I close my eyes the image I see is Elsewhere
And the places I go to somewhere,
a second before the impact
and freedom is what I find in the core of my mind
body slung out on the kitchen floor”
… What was I doing? Apparently writing rhymes. All right.
Had deep fried pizza as well when I stayed in Edinburgh, but not a big fan. I usually just got chips and cheese, or white pudding supper. Also I love haggis on a roll with brown sauce. And a can of Irn Bru of course.
@Aaliyah Curious how?
Aaaah Irn Bru.
So in Scotland, they deep fry their pizza. I am impressed, and I want to try that someday.
Now I have a pizza question for David, since he’s in the windy city. (If anyone else has an opinion on this, feel free to weigh in)
Is it true that Chicago has the US’s best pizza? Or do you think that New York style is better?
@Theda
As in, I want to know what you were going to say. Sorry I wasn’t clearer.
May I confess that I’m turning 24 soon and I’m freaking the eff out about it? Not because I will soon be hideously ugly to misogynists — that’s all plus — but for ohmygodwhoamiwhatshappeningicantkeepscrewingaround reasons. :-3
@Aaliyah not me, just the peanut gallery! Get your education at all costs. That’s from both of us.
Bionicmummy….deep fried pizza is not the delicacy you may be imagining. Usually you buy it from the chippy, on the way home in the freezing cold after too many beers. I’ve never eaten but even through beer goggles, it looked suspect.
I worked for 3 months in VA when i was 19 (in a truck stop!). First time in the States, first times eating American pizza, first time eating Haagen Daz. I was so upset when I flew home thinking I wouldn’t eat them again
Of course, I did, they went worldwide eventually and also my tastes changed. But I still remember feeling the loss.
Great big welcome to all the new people I haven’t said hello to already!
I’m loving this thread. Mum thinks I’m turning into a chook from all the strange cackling noises I’m making reading it.
Ophelia, I’ll be fifty in a coupla months, stop frettin’ woman! 😀 I can never decide who’s older: Mr K in actual years, ‘cos 411, or me, cos in earthly years he only made 41. Is he a shockin’ cradle snatcher or am I an almost cougar?
I want to go to Chicago someday (maybe when it’s really hot here and nice there) and try to find some deep dish eggplant pizza. It has to exist, right? Because it sounds delicious to me, and I’ve never had any. I’m not sure what I think about deep fried pizza, though. What’s the opposite of gilding the lily? It sounds like that.
Ally, I’m sorry your dad is so controlling. My dad got that way when I went away to school, after living at home for two years and going to community college. I’m not even sure what his problem was. Money and control mostly. Anyway, my sympathies.
Ah, existential dread at the prospect of age and time.
Yeah, that’s always… fun? Thank frak my age means I can just pretend I don’t care about that concept. And people believe it. Then I can roll back and forth quietly in the corner of my apartment when no one is around.
@Viscaria:
Good luck!.
Congrats, Aaliyah!
@Kittehs’ you are both cougaring each other, thus making that awful phrase obsolete.
I also found this site by lurking on Captain Awkward.
I appreciate your concern, but I disagree somewhat. Education is definitely important to me, but I’m a woman, and I can’t stand living like this. I really need to start HRT soon. As long as I get some help from my older siblings and I get a decent job as a web developer, maybe I won’t be as badly affected if my father cuts off his financial support.
So now we’re talking age? You do know there’s a distinction to be made between old and mature, don’t you.
Well, none of you will ever be as “mature” as I am. Being 65, I now regret not having subjugated whole swathes of the male population. I’m glad David has provided me this forum to encourage others to take on the tasks I so thoughtlessly left incomplete when I could have done so much more.
But I’ll do my part. I can still shop for matching towels and other items.
Well it sounds cool. I mean, pizza is awesome, and fried foods are awesome, so why not mix the two and make it double awesome? But then this logic wouldn’t work with other foods, like “Chicken friend steak is awesome” and “Chocolate syrup is awesome. Therefore chicken fried steak with chocolate syrup is awesome”.
And I agree with you on Haagen Das. That is some good ice cream. It’s almost up there with homemade ice cream.
Would it be “putting whip cream on a hot dog”? That means to put something fancy on top of something that is more plain. And eggplant pizza could be interesting. I’ve had artichoke pizza before and was surprised at how good it was.
Regarding pizza, I can’t think of anything better than New York style. It’s just fabulous. I have fond memories of eating at all the NY style pizzerias in Boulder, CO when I was 12. (Yes, I know Colorado isn’t New York, but it’s still wonderful pizza dammit)
Thanks Fibonachi XD. I am placing too much importance on a number. And on a word. That word is “mid”.
Ally, you should be hugely proud of yourself for what you’ve accomplished under really shitty circumstances. I look forward to hearing about UC Santa Cruz!
@thebionicmommy:
“Chicken friend steak is awesome”.
Actually, coating my friends in chocolate and devouring them bit by bit as a snack is something of a past time around here – but after discovering Manboobz, I obviously only do it with my male friends after callously denying them sex for just knowing me.
The confusion adds so much to the flavour.
I have been on Manboobz for years now (it be three years old! And just as cute as the day it was born!) and I wound up here from an Amanda Marcotte update on Facebook.
Now if you will excuse me, I have to go feel old now.
Moving on to the EXTREMELY IMPORTANT topic of pizza…
New Haven pizza is the very best. It’s called apizza, and it’s very thin crust, and it’s often not round. I’m about to go visit my sister there and I’ve already told her we’re eating pizza multiple times.
I believe that what I have said in this comment is the objective truth, and that’s real.
Sometimes I feel this way myself, though it’s not solely due to women. It’s the attitude of an entire society- men, women, children- who hate me and white men like me.