Red Pill ideology isn’t just hateful and misogynistic; it’s also a remarkably bleak way to look at the world, even for the men who supposedly benefit the most from taking “the red pill” — that is, the allegedly smooth players who boast about bedding so many women on “game” blogs.
Take, for example, what you might call the “spoiled milk” theory of marriage that’s sometimes trotted out on these blogs.
Since women reach their prime young, the theory goes, then rapidly lose their looks and their value after “hitting the wall” at the age or 25 or 30, it only makes sense to marry a woman when she’s young — so you get to have sex with her before she gets all old and hideous.
If you marry her later, this means that someone else has had her at her best — and you haven’t!
As the blogger at LaidNYC argues in a post titled “Don’t Marry Any Woman Older Than 25,”
If you meet your wife when she’s older than around 23 or 24:
You are eating someone else’s cold leftovers, then doing their dishes.
You are showing up to a party after everyone has left and cleaning up after them.
You are getting into a taxi and paying the fare of the person who got out before you.
You are taking the nearly expired milk to the grocery store counter and offering to pay double for it.
He goes on in this fashion for some time.
You are paying for someone’s credit card bill full of reckless spending and partying that you never got to enjoy. …
You are trying to unclog somebody else’s clogged toilet.
Ok, now that last one didn’t even make sense.
Anyway, after running out of metaphors, LaidNYC gets to his point:
A girl who refuses to get married young is offering a raw deal. She is vastly overvaluing her product, and undervaluing your time and money.
Marriage only makes sense for a man when a girl’s prime years of beauty and fertility are upfront payment for a lifetime of loving masculine support.
LaidNYC goes on to suggest that women who are too picky when they’re young will end up regretting it later:
Is it any wonder, then, that as females are delaying marriage longer, they are finding less willing men?
Youthful arrogance is the yellow brick road to spinsterhood.
But I want to go back to that previous bit:
Marriage only makes sense for a man when a girl’s prime years of beauty and fertility are upfront payment for a lifetime of loving masculine support.
Can you imagine a more depressing way to look at marriage? If you’re so twisted by your misogyny that you can’t see value in your wife after she hits the age of 30 or so, and stick with her only out of a sense of obligation because she fucked you when she was 25, well, dude, you deserve to be miserable. And I can only hope your wife leaves you for someone who can appreciate her in the here and now.
Misogynistic assholes are at least as good at making themselves miserable as they are at making things shitty for other people.
>>>Is it just me or is Energomash verging on sociopathy?
Ignoring the ableist underpinning of this question…
Energomash is one of those “Rational Egoists” who are really invested in the Egoist part and forego the Rational one. I mean, i personally agree that humans do not have intrinsic value. I think human value is provided by a common shared social agreement that most, if not all, human beings adhere to.
I, however, am not so gauche as to call myself an ontological materialist and then promptly decide that that must mean that social relations and social constructs, which we observe every day unless we’re willfully blind, are not material and therefore are not real. I mean, that would be kind of *stupid*, is what I’m saying.
Energomash:
Conclusion doesn’t follow from the premise.
I can (and do) treat lots of things which aren’t human as means to an end (I am treating a goblet as a means to convey beer to my gullet; the end being the assuagement of my thirst).
The problem is that one can treat people as if they were of no more worth than the goblet, or the beer; something to use as a simple means to an end.
That end may not be sexual: perhaps I treat a waiter as means to demonstrating my superior social class; so I bemean him when he can’t afford to do anything about it (lest he lose his employ). I have objectified him.
It’s not that simple, and you defined it; then you plastered it over with nonsense about how you can’t do that to people because they are innately not objects.
Which means they have some sort of intrinsic value, or they would be no different to the beer, and the goblet containing it.
Argenti: Pecunium — can’t tell if your example is you or not you. Wasn’t watching you cooking to tell if you’re a leftie…guessing not since you didn’t know what I meant about shooting with a left handed bow…*is curious!*
I did know what you meant. But I’m not above 6′ in height (nor am I a lefty, though there are things I am ambidextrous with). I can shoot from the left, but it’s complicated by being right-eye dominant. Rifles are also handed. Having the bolt be on the wrong side isn’t as bad as getting hot brass bounced off your skull, but it’s a hassle.
So bows (save cross) aren’t good from my left, but I can use handguns (though the tendency to cross my body means I’m a bit less accurate.
BTW, this got lost in the wash, from threads some time ago:
Fish tanks, I imagine tank tanks would be more work (or maybe not, pecunium, can you just hose the fucker down?).
Oh My God! Never want to clean a tracked vehicle again. EVER! So many nooks and crannies, and ALL THE DIRT MUST BE REMOVED. It takes four people several days to really clean one.
Ally:Yogurt in frosting? Interesting.
It gives it a tang, but it has to be on a dessert that won’t last long.
There’s no ableist underpinning unless you also consider an obvious fracture of the femur and people remarking upon it ableist.
@falconer
Holy hell was I off then XD I just sounded it out.
Ok, I totally prefer cleaning shit containing fish tanks now, assuming the siphon doesn’t break it’s a simple matter. The filter is gross, but again, you can kind just pull a “I am not doing this, I am wringing out a towel” mentality. Siphon breaks…suction siphon…yeah I’ve tasted fish shit, it is not pleasant.
As for shooting. Guns right handed, bows left, I find it odd you shoot bow rightie with a dominant right eye, that’s why I shoot leftie (obtain “the position”, bow in right hand and you’ll see what I mean). My brother’s a leftie, totally incompetent at right handed anything, so I’ve heard all about the issues shooting guns leftie.
And you said 6″ not 6′ hence my thinking you might’ve meant yourself (5’8″~? Given the [lack of signifact] height difference from me in my boots)
Oh great, I broke the page with mouth siphoning fish shit.
@Michael Søndberg Olsen
Um…wtf? I am not following what you’re saying…
Yeah, I’m an idiot. That was to Blackbloc.
I think his point was that he intended it as a statement of fact, not judgment. The difference between — “my brother’s best friend has a broken arm” and “he’s a fucking dumbass for how he did it”. (Tripped over a mattress)
auggzillary: Getting laid in NYC isn’t really that special, is it? I’ve never been to NYC, but maybe the atmosphere makes the sex great or something.
It’s not better than anything else.
Boats and trains are great. Waterbeds are overrated (and mixing them with satin sheets and lingerie is an invitation to disaster), but sleeping in them is good; the trick for sex is 1: baffles, and 2: getting the hydraulic pressure balanced. Tents can be pretty good.
Then again, all of the “great” I just mentioned might be because of the company: I did the boat/train with a beloved. I’ve had less than great sex in tents and waterbeds. I’ve have pretty good sex in the front seat of a 1980s Toyota, so I think it really is who, not where.
Waterbed, satin sheets…you don’t have to be having sex to slide off. *the voice of experience*
argenti: That was an interesting typo. I’d like to see someone less than 6″ tall.
As to bows… I can’t find a comfortable way to get my right eye on target while holding the bow in my left hand.
Yep. Like I think I mentioned on an earler thread, I have a “mild” case of schizophrenia. Basically, I’m like everybody, I just tend to focus on small details, sometimes to my own detriment. Someone calling me crazy because of it would earn a middle finger, but I AM crazy, a little tiny bit, clinically. It’s about how we use words, is my point.
Please tell me that’s a literal goblet, preferably engraved with ancient runes or something.
“Dessert that lasts long” is an oxymoron around here.
Thanks, Argenti.
Objectification can only be done to a human, yes, because you can’t downgrade an object to the level of an object. It’s already an object!
Our ontological materialist’s argument is a bit like saying a serial killer values their victim’s lives because the only way to kill something is for it to be alive.
Falling off of stuff is a pretty common part of sex for me. Clumsy can be sexy, right??
katz: Please tell me that’s a literal goblet, preferably engraved with ancient runes or something.
It is an actual goblet (and the beer [sadly departed] was Anchor Steam: Brekkles Brown, eaten with some Johnson’s Cheddar Brats).
It’s pewter. I’ve had it since 1988, and it’s inscribed on the bottom with my name, the date of my birth (used it for ID once, the weekend after I turned 21; when it was still new and shiny, and not possessed of the scars of age and had not yet fallen to the ground, not so much as once), and the name of friend of mine who had died: he got AIDS, from a transfusion.
So here’s a toast to departed friends; to us, and them’s like us: damned few left.
Well, clumsy is funny and funny is sexy… so, sure. Just don’t break anything.
Hit my head pretty hard on the bed frame once. That was one of a few times the game was called on account of injury.
Viscaria: It was fun-funny, but we lost our rhythm and the bed ejected us.
My old FWB and I once fell off a bed and I hit my knee so hard it was bruised for weeks. Game definitely called on account injury. You could see the carpet nap in the bruise, gnarly.
As for the topic of this post… what kind of idiot doesn’t value experience?