I know. It’s an MRA. It’s nine minutes long. But seriously, just watch it. You won’t regret it.
And, no, it’s not a parody.
If you want to see what the man behind the voice looks like, check out his Gravatar.
After you’ve finished laughing, you can go over and read the catty little thread it inspired over on Antimisandry.com.
Since WordPress now allows us to add polls to our posts I’m adding one right here.
EDITED TO ADD: And now, thanks to serrana, here’s a transcript of the whole bloody thing. Make like a bird, and read it:
I am Agent Orange. I am responsible for the initial collection of data from the now defunct forums of radfemspeak.net. I also recruited most of the team and set forth the vision that would become the Agent Orange Files. I continued promoting the Agent Orange Files during the radfem 2012 fiasco.
I have waited and watched for quite some time the events unfold around me in this broad movement called the MRM. I have seen a sickness strike the heart of what I’ve once considered something grand.
Now, in my capacity as a sort of bird in the sky, I hear rumblings of malcontent throughout the halls of my esteemed brothers. This troubles me as I have not been troubled before. In my life, there has been nothing that has troubled me more. I give of my time, love, and life itself in hopes of creating a society free of misandry, where all humans are judged equally before the laws of nations throughout the world.
Are we still in the wilderness, my brothers, where there are none but our own voices to fall upon our ears? Are we still shouting at the top of our lungs and hearing but a brief echo announcing our solitude? Or have we built a fortress in this cold land, paving paths to others to trade ideas in good faith? Have we not spit in the eyes of our enemies, met them in many skirmishes, and run a sword of truth into the heart of their lies over and over?
We have done much, even to the consternation of those who would use our name in vain for their own petty purposes. We men have refused to back the fight with honeyed words, and bowing to properness and propriety. We have damned the use of all but plain speech in the signing of declarations of war against those who would enslave us. We have spit upon them for good measure as is rightfully deserved.
But the sickness still comes into our fort. It is one borne of temperance of speech that hides half-truths behind the language of our enemies. It poisons the minds of men so they can no longer arm the battlements out of fear of some imagined greater power. It is a false enemy, that never has, and never will have power over the souls of free men.
It has turned brother against brother within the confines of our home. It has distracted us with questions and answers that have no bearing on our lives as free men. We tremble before these questions out of fear of answering to something other than ourselves instead of taking the fight to our enemy. It blinds us to the simplest of answers that we should care not.
We have become complicated, filled with innuendo, brimming with foppishness and base impulse, just like our enemies. We have forgotten the faces of our fathers and grandfathers. We have neglected the pain of our brothers. We have lost sight of our most basic of functions and we are becoming like those we fight in the process.
What are we if not the voice of reason and truth in an otherwise insane world? How did we fall so far as to worry about how possible allies may view us in the future? Do we not stand upon our own merits? Have we not continually crushed our enemies beneath our feet with the weapons of sharp rhetoric and truth spoken with passion and resolve? Do we really care so much about how we are branded that we are willing to sacrifice each other upon the altar of political correctness and forsake our brothers?
Beware of what you say henceforth to each other. You think carefully about our true enemy: identity politics, the politicization of experience. Don’t use dark powers that suggest to us that flowery speech will gather us more bees to make the honey, because that honey is a sour poison that kills us all one by one by one.
Think hard on the cause of suffering among us. Recognize that it is the death of the individual that does this and the removal of accountability and responsibility through the idea that there is collective salvation instead of individual merit, that there is only coercion by their gods instead of the charity of a man, that there is only room for the love of your slavemaster instead of love for yourself.
I have not sat upon a single branch since I have taken flight long ago and I will not do so until the last breath is wrenched from my body through the violence of our enemies or the ravages of age. I have been among you all. I’ve been talking and watching, teaching and learning, healing and tending.
I have been encouraging others to take back their dignity and embark upon a course of action that can best take the fight to our enemy. I hope to help free all men from their self-imposed shackles. My words have rarely been met with derision by those brothers who know me.
Those that have matched wits with me in good faith find me an honorable and competent visionary with the tenacity of a wolverine.
I would ask, but I think it wise to set the example. All of you, lay down your weapons against your brothers in arms immediately, set aside your momentary lapses of reason and come to a table that will soon be provided. Those of you to whom I have whispered secrets before, if you fancy yourself a leader, or a speaker in any capacity, you will come.
There are going to be things to be taught, and revelations that will be made apparent. Those that contribute wisely at the table will walk away with a greater sense of purpose and direction than what we have ever had before.
I promise you magic steel to further our cause. Come, sit beside your brother, though you may have smitten him before. The blood will not be washed away, but regret will at least not hang upon your brow, if you do sit with us.
In the meantime, return to the battlements, and think on this: Remember our enemy that comes from outside our hard-won land. Trust that those not showing up for discourse will have their true colors shown, or are too shamed by their past actions. Remove the names of your brothers from your lips and hold the steel strongly toward the outer walls.
You know where I fly. Send a pigeon or catapult yourself to me, I care not which. I will be waiting impatiently for a response.
Well, that explains a lot. Manually producing that screed would require the tenacity of a wolverine.
Do these guys have any understanding of the concept of irony? Like, at all?
He didn’t just say that, did he? I must have misheard, right?
*Gigglesnort*
Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for this little gem. I really needed the laugh after the week I’ve had.
SNORT
Transparent attempt to declare others illegitimate is transparent.
That’s another thing, I’m sick of MRAs comparing themselves to animals. It’s insulting to the animals. He had the audacity to compare himself to a wolverine. Son, I’ve studied wolverines, you are not one. The only critter they’re allowed to use is the louse.
It’s probably from the Windows 98 version of Media player. It’s like he’s trying to be cheesy on purpose, but with MRA’s there’s no telling.
Ditto with the animal shit. Most animals could make a better video than this.
…that is flying over the landscape. Then resting in a tree, waiting impatiently for your calls.
The animal thing isn’t really limited to MRAs… whenever any dude refers to himself as a ‘wolf’, that’s strike one.
(If he’s a ‘wolf’ who’s also into BDSM, that’s bonus strike two as well)
Hey, you know that woman who went missing in the woods in the northwestern US? She just wanted a man to take care of her: http://www.the-spearhead.com/2013/06/11/naked-woman-goes-missing-in-northwest-woods/
Buntzums, seconding Shadow: knock it off with calling MRAs (or arseholes in general) mentally ill. Mental illness =/= being a shit.
I only caught one actual quote “we have forgotten the faces of our fathers” from The Dark Tower series by Stephen King. Did he quote any more fantasy authors or can he take credit for the rest of whatever that was?
Wow, I missed this comment. Seriously Buntzums – stop it. Being an asshole is not the same thing as being mentally ill.
Bwahahahaha! Wait, stop, you’re killing me here! Ahahahaha!
Okay, who is this “enemy” he keeps babbling on about? Is this just another call-to-arms against some vague, loosely defined concept of enemy?
Momentary lapses of reason? Momentary? Ahahahahahahaaaaa! *Wheeze*
This is unbelievably hilarious. The only way this could get any sillier and more over the top is by playing some Manowar in the background.
That’s it. Once I’m ready with the Straw Feminist character class for my next D&D campaign, I’m tackling the MRA Brother-In-Arms class. If I die of laughter, it will still have been worth it.
This reinforces my belief that the MRM is populated by people pretending to be activists, Rebels, heroes, leaders, fighters, prophets etc. I suspect many MRAs are into roleplaying games and their online life is an extension of that.
That was nine minutes of extended cliches… Simply hilarious.
Roger, allow me to introduce myself. I’m one of the victims of your lecherous, temeritous publicity stunts. As a note of explanation for other readers of this letter: Roger’s convoluted form of expression not only fails to lend credibility to his views but also fails to contradict my views. The key point of the following exposition is that I, for one, feel that there are in fact many people who possess the intelligence, wisdom, talent, and ability to reveal the constant tension between centripetal and centrifugal forces of dialogized heteroglossia resulting from Roger’s memoirs. My goal is to locate those people and encourage them to help me bring a fresh perspective and new ideas to the current debate. He likes to cite poll results that “prove” that lying is morally justifiable as long as it’s referred to as “strategic deception”. Really? Have you ever been contacted by one of his pollsters? Chances are good that you never have been contacted and never will be. Otherwise, the polls would show that my purpose here is not to reveal some shocking facts about Roger’s snow jobs. Well, okay, it is. But I should point out that we are at a crossroads. One road leads into the light of a bright, shining future in which brainless crybabies like Roger are absolutely absent. The other road leads into the darkness of masochism. The question, therefore, is: Who’s driving the bus? Let me give you a hint: I am willing to put my neck on the line to think outside the box. I’ll go further: Roger can’t fool me. I’ve met stroppy lummoxes before so I know that the suggestion that censorship could benefit us is wrong, absurd, and offensive. Nevertheless, Roger’s adulators like to suggest such things to distract attention from the truth, which is that the sun has never shone on a more picayunish and humorless person than Roger. (The merits of Roger’s litanies won’t be discussed here because they lack merit.) Now that I’ve told you what I think, let me end this letter by stating that I fully intend to put the kibosh on Roger’s plans for the future. Let Roger tremble. And though the heavens fall, let there be justice.
[Yep, it is the automatic complaint letter generator]
Hyena girl, I now feel that is the only right answer to roger ever.
I have to stop at one minute and twenty seconds and go back to one minute and sixteen seconds. I’ve done this five times, and every time, it sounds like he’s saying “The lols of nations.”
He’s worried that others are too fobbish…?
I completely agree Howard — and it’s eerily accurate! Here we go:
And I second Kitten; Knock it off with that ableist bullshit!
And you know, I’m not even particularly sensitive when it comes to ableist language. I don’t react when people say “crazy” for instance, because (I realize YMMV on this one) I feel like that word isn’t a very medical one. I think most people just use crazy to mean irrational, really stupid etc… “Idiot”, likewise, was a medical term for people with mental handicaps ages ago, but nowadays I think it’s okay to use.
HOWEVER it should be completely uncontroversial that calling people MENTALLY ILL just because they’re assholes is WAY OUT OF LINE.
I’m mentally ill. I have mixed hypomanic (and very rarely depressive too) and schizo symptoms. I’m also a feminist, a fucking philosophy professor at one of Sweden’s biggest universities and, I like to think, a fairly nice human being. Mentally ill =/= MRA. Mentally ill =/= asshole. Could everyone please just get that into their heads already!?
One of James Huff’s enemies did a half-assed transcript. Sorry it’s so long, but you know, that speech was really long.
I am agent orange. I am responsible for the collection of data from the now defunct forums radfempeak.net. I also recruited most of the team and set forth the vision that would become the agent orange files. I continued promoting the agent orange files during the radfem 2012 fiasco. I have waited and watched for quite some time the events unfold around me in this broad movement called the MRM. I have seen a sickness strike the heart of what I’ve once considered something grand. Now, in my capacity as a sort of bird in the sky, I hear rumblings of malcontent throughout the halls of my esteemed brothers. This troubles me as I have not been troubled before. In my life, there has been nothing that has troubled me more. I give of my time, love, and life itself in hopes of creating a society free of misandry, where all humans are judged equally before the laws of nations throughout the world. Are we still in the wilderness, my brothers, where there are none but our own voices to fall upon our ears? Are we still shouting at the top of our lungs and hearing but a brief echo announcing our solitude? Or have we built a fortress in this cold land, paving paths to others to trade ideas in good faith? Have we not spit in the eyes of our enemies, met them in many skirmishes, and run a sword of truth into the heart of their lies over and over? We have done much, even to the consternation of those who abuse our name in vain for their own petty purposes. We men have refused to back the fight with honeyed words, and bowing in properness and propriety. We’ve damned the use of all but plain speech in the declarations of war against those who would enslave us. We have spit upon them for good measure as is rightfully deserved. But the sickness still comes into our fort*. It is one borne of temperance of speech that hides half-truths behind the language of our enemies. It poisons the minds of men so they can no longer arm the battlements out of fear of some imagined greater power. It is a false enemy, that never has, and never will have power over the souls of free men. It has turned brother against brother within the confines of our home. It has distracted us with questions and answers that have no bearing on our lives as free men. We tremble before these questions out of fear of answering to something other than ourselves instead of taking the fight to our enemy. It blinds us to the simplest of answers that we should care not. We have become complicated, filled with innuendo, brimming with foppishness** and base impulse, just like our enemies. We have forgotten the faces of our fathers and grandfathers. We have neglected the pain of our brothers. We have lost sight of our most basic of functions and we are becoming like those we fight in the process. What are we if not the voice of reason and truth in an otherwise insane world? How did we fall so far as to worry about how possible allies may view us in the future? Do we not stand upon our own merits? Do we not continually crush our enemies beneath our feet with the rhetoric of sharp truth spoken with passion and resolve? Do we really care so much about how we are branded that we are willing to sacrifice each other upon the altar of political correctness and forsake oru brothers? Beware of what you say henceforth to each other. You think carefully about our true enemy: identity politics, the politicization of experience. Don’t use dark powers that suggest to us that flowery speech will gather us more bees to make the honey, because that honey is a sour poison that kills us all one by one by one. Think hard on the cause of suffering among us. Recognize that it is death of the individual that does this and the removal of accountability and responsibility through the idea that there is collective salvation instead of individual merit, that there is only coercion by their gods instead of the charity of a man, that there is only room for the love of your slave master instead of love for yourself. I have not sat upon a single branch*** since I have taken flight long ago and I will not do so until the last breath is wrenched from my body through the violence of our enemies or the ravages of age. I have been among you all. I’ve been talking and watching, teaching and learning, healing and tending. I have been encouraging others to take back their dignity and embark upon a course of action that can best take the fight to our enemy. I hope to help free all men from their self-imposed shackles. My words have rarely been met with derision by those brothers who know me. Those that have matched wits with me in good faith find me an honorable and competent visionary with the tenacity of a wolverine****. I would ask, but I think it wise to set the example. All of you lay down your weapons against your brothers in arms immediately, set aside your momentary lapses of reason and come to a table that will soon be provided. Those of you to whom I have whispered secrets before, if you fancy yourself a leader, or a speaker in any capacity, you will come. There are going to be things to be taught, and revelations that will be made apparent. Those that contribute wisely at the table will walk away with a greater sense of purpose and direction than what we have ever had before. I promise you [unclear – sounds like magic steel?] to further our cause. Come, sit beside your brother, though you may have smitten him before. But blood will not be washed away, but regret will at least not hang upon your brow, if you do sit with us *****. In the meantime, return to the battlements, and think upon this: Remember our enemy that comes from outside our hard won land. Trust that those not showing up for discourse will have their true colors shown or are too shamed by their past actions. Remove the names of your brothers from your lips and hold the steel strongly toward the outer walls. You know where I fly******. Send a [unclear-pigeon, patron?] or catapult yourself to me, I care not, wench. I will be waiting impatiently for a response.
*This is the point where I completely lost it – tears coming out of my eyes and all.
**I don’t want Fop, goddammit, I’m a Dapper Dan man.
***Oh goody, he’s a bird again,
****who turns into a wolverine. Of course.
*****Now he’s trying to sound all gentle and shit. It’s not working James, not working!
******yada.
And, I need a drink.
Thirding Kitteh, knock of the ableism.
This guy thinks he’s the motherfucking Batman.