Today, some comedy, in the form of an 8 minute excerpt from what was apparently an hour-and-a-half “debate” between John “The Other” Hembling, noted Men’s Human Rights Activist from A Voice For Human Men, and some dude from Manhood Academy, a Men’s Rights site that’s actually a teensy bit more obnoxious than AVFM, although in a much less interesting way.
It’s NSFW, unless you’re wearing headphones, due to salty language and near-constant anti-woman slurs.
In case you haven’t listened to enough of JohnTheOther to instantly recognize his irritating voice, he is — uncharacteristically — the quieter of the two, er, debaters here, and a little bit on the defensive.
Thanks to the intrepid work of new commenter Thal, we now have a transcript!
MA: You were threatening to rage-quit like a—
JTO: So here’s my an—here we go, ready? Ready for the answer?
MA: You were threatening to rage quit like a timid little b*tch.
JTO: Stick something in your mouth so you can hear with your ears, not your tongue.
MA: YOOOOUUUU, were threatening, to rage quit like a timid little b*tch to control the conversation, you were saying, [baby-talk] “If you say this one more time, I’m rage quitting outta here!” And look at you.
JTO: Oh, god—how f*cking old are you.
MA: Like a timid little b*tch, like a little girl—
JTO: No no, Let’s just pause, come on—
MA: You can’t—you can’t even keep your own word.
JTO: How old are you? *How old are you?*
MA: –you can’t even keep your own word. You notice you said, if I called you a b*tch one more time, you’d leave?
JTO: Yeah, because I wasn’t going to let you, I wasn’t going to let you—
MA: And, now you, now you didn’t. So you make empty threats so, you admit you’re a liar?
JTO: No, I was—
MA: You admit you’re a liar, basically?
JTO: …Kid, is this entire thing—
MA: Kid?! Yes Dad? Yes Daddy?
JTO: –Just to wind me up?
MA: What do you have to tell me Daddy?
JTO: And then when I’m finally fed up with you I leave—
MA: What Daddy?
JTO: –and then you go “Oh, rage quit?”
MA: What Daddy?
JTO: Is that the whole point of this whole f*cking exercise?
MA: What Daddy? Say that again Daddy?
JTO: …Kid! *Kid!*
MA: Yes, Daddy?
JTO: That’s what I called you!
MA: Yes Daddy?
JTO: Would you prefer I call you *toddler?* Child?
MA: Grandpa! Are we getting older now? Grandpa, what are you doing? Grandpa, check your pacemaker, it sounds like you’re getting angry.
JTO: Oh my pacemaker’s fine, son.
MA: Yeah? Grandpa, it sounds like your pacemaker’s getting angry.
JTO: Listen, listen, listen toddler, you little child…
MA: Grandpa, check your Depends undergarments. Check your Depends undergarments. Are they okay?
JTO: Would you like to go back to actually—
MA: Are they dry?
JTO: –letting me answer your question?
MA: Grandpa! Grandpa, are your Depends undergarments dry or not?
JTO: (long-suffering sigh)
MA: Don’t cry like a little b*tch! You act like a little b*tch and then you get frustrated! You’re frustrating yourself!
JTO: (derisive laugh)
MA: Go back to your Zen calm!
JTO: You’re—you’re so—
MA: Remember how you were Zen calm? Remember how you were lecturing everyone on how calm you were?
JTO: The longer this goes on—
MA: Remember—(misty exalted voice) ohhhhh! I’m Zen calm!
JTO: The longer this goes on, the more transparent you become!
MA: Uh—what a coincidence! It’s almost like we’re talking to a mirror here! Oh my god!
JTO: So? Do you want me to try to answer the question again, or are you gonna yap again?
MA: Well you want me to state the question clearly so you can give a clear answer?
JTO: No, I know what the question is!
MA: *Oh,* now you know, before you were just ignoring it!
JTO: …Well, I was trying to answer, and you were yapping over top of me—
MA: No you weren’t! You were acting like a scared little b*tch, ignoring it!
JTO: (long suffering) Oh, god. You’re so tedious.
MA: Ohhhh, god. Oh my gawd, you’re so put out. Oh, my gawwwwd, broooo. I have to give a logical answer–?
JTO: Tedious. Tedious.
MA: I have to give a—
JTO: Teeeedious.
MA: Yeah. I’m talking to a *f*cking moron,* and you want to talk about *tedious?* You’re a f*cking idiot! I mean, I have students that are brighter than you!
JTO: …Well, uh, good for them, I’m not sure why they’d pay attention to you.
MA: Yeah, because I make sense!
JTO: So, the question that you asked—
MA: You know why they pay attention to me?
JTO: The question, that you asked—
MA: Because I’m *specific,* like an adult, and I make sense—
JTO: The question—
MA: And you’re a hypocritical, cowardly little b*tch, and I keep proving it to them! That’s why they pay attention to me! That’s why we hold these debates!
JTO: Look. This isn’t a debate!
MA: Public scrutiny!
JTO: (possibly a snort?) This isn’t a debate, sunshine!
MA: Oh it—it’s not, pumpkin?
JTO: No, no it’s not, sweetie-pie! This is [unintelligible]—
MA: Why not marshmallow? Tell me why marshmallow!
JTO: (almost flirtatiously) I’ll try. Are you gonna let me?
MA: Maybe buttercup, are you gonna keep cutting me off?! You—you notice again—you keep cutting me off–
JTO: I’ll tell you what—
MA: You keep cutting me off—
JTO: Hold up your hand—
MA: And *I’m* not crying!
JTO: When you’re ready for me to—
MA: I’m not crying like a little b*tch like you are
JTO: Go like this—
MA: (high voice) Ohhhh, you keep cutting me off!
JTO: Go like this when you’re ready for me to answer the question.
MA: Listen. Listen, you cowardly little b*tch. You notice how *you* keep crying about me cutting you off but I don’t cry when you cut me off? You notice that?
JTO: Well you, you *are* crying, I mean…
MA: Oh I am? I didn’t realize.
JTO: Get your camera up higher, so that you’re not hiding your eyes.
MA: What?! I’m sitting *forward!*
JTO: Well, lean back, or tilt your camera back, cause all I see is from—
MA: You don’t get to tell me what to do, you scared little b*tch!
JTO: This is what I see. This is what I see.
MA: Guess what? Guess what?
JTO: That’s what you look like right now.
MA: You’re a scared little *b*tch,* and you don’t answer my challenges, so what the *fuck* does it matter what position I sit in?
JTO: Well I do, it’s just that you can’t hear the answer because you won’t stop talking.
MA: Oh I “can’t hear the answer?” Maybe it’s because you’re a cowardly little b*tch and you won’t *answer!*
JTO: (laughs incredulously) Well, the question that I remember is do I want long form answers while the other person sits and waits for the answer—
MA: No!
JTO: –Or do I want people to just jump in back and forth on each other?
MA: Yes.
JTO: So, the answer that I gave you many times—
MA: No, you didn’t gave me many times you lying, f*cking f*ggot, you’re a liar! You’re a llllliar.
JTO: I yelled it at you many times—
MA: You didn’t give me that answer at all. You’re a *liar.*
JTO: Oh—(cleansing breath) Well, do you remember me shouting the word yes a couple minutes ago?
MA: No! Hey. Hey.
JTO: Do you?
MA: You f*cking idiot. *We have the tape here.* We could play it back for you.
JTO: Do you remember me sh—just, yes or no. Do you remember me shouting the word yes at you a few minutes ago?
MA: I remember you shouting incoherently. I don’t know what you were shouting.
JTO: I was shouting the word yes.
MA: I remember you getting butthurt and storming off.
JTO: The reason I shouted the word yes—
MA: I remember you storming off like a scared little b*tch! I remember that too!
JTO: Ah, god, you’re so tedious…
MA: (mockingly) Ah, god, so tedious! Again, I’m dealing with a f*cking idiot, I’m doing you the courtesy of dealing with *you.* Come on!
JTO: Why are you still in this conversation?
MA: Good question! You’re too *dumb* to be debating me! Are you kidding me?
JTO: No no no—why are you here, what’s your goal here?
MA: My goal? To educate a moron like you, to educate the general public!
JTO: That’s too vague. Be specific, what’s your goal?
MA: Too vague?
JTO: Too vague. What’s your specific goal—
MA: You are the last person to be lecturing anybody on vague and specific.
JTO: That’s—you’re changing the topic now.
MA: No I’m not!
JTO: So once again—you are changing the—
MA: I’m answering each challenge as it comes up you moron! It’s called being specific, you should learn how to do it!
JTO: (belches) No, you’re being vague. So, again—
MA: No, you’re burping!
JTO: What’s your goal?
MA: Uh, so, uh, sorry, I’m offended by your burping! I can’t answer any challenges anymore, cause you’re *burping.*
JTO: Okay, I’ll stop burping and I’ll just call you “little b*tch.” Would that make you feel better? I mean, we’re calling each other little b*tch now, right?
MA: No no no, I’m calling you a little b*tch cause you’re acting like a little b*tch, and I’m explaining why. I’m explaining—there’s a reason that I’m giving you, so it’s really a valid observation that you’re a little b*tch, because you’re a hypocrite and I keep pointing that out. You keep ignoring it.
JTO: Okay. So I’ve answered you question, what else do you want to know?
MA: You—you’ve answered what question?
JTO: The question—
MA: After I had to drag it out of you!
JTO: But, no, you talked over top of me every single time I tried to answer…
MA: No, you’re a, again, you’re a lying little b*tch. Okay. Let’s clear it up this time so we can proceed forward according to how you want to proceed forward. Now, be clear for the record. Which way do you want to proceed forward?
JTO: …And the two options are we each talk over top of one another—
MA: Mm-hm.
JTO: Or we ask a question and let the other person answer.
MA: Right.
JTO: The second! We ask a question and let the other person answer.
MA: All right. I agree to that—as long as *you* agree to that!
JTO: (incredulous pause) I just suggested it. Why wouldn’t I agree to that?
MA: No you didn’t suggest it! You’re a lying f*cking moron!
JTO: (garble)
MA: What are you talking about? I was the one who first shut up for your long stupid answer full of r*tarded assumptions—
JTO: (garble)
MA: –and didn’t interrupt it, and then I gave my answer, and when I started giving my answer—
JTO: We’ve already covered this ground, so let’s move forward.
MA: And when I started giving my answer—no, I, I’m covering your lie. I’m exposing your lie. Then when I gave my answer, you interrupted me. And that’s when I started lecturing you, about your own hypocrisy.
JTO: Well…if you stack four or five questions into one long rant, I’m going to answer them as they—
MA: Separate—well then should I answer all your idiotic assumptions in one long rant?
JTO: No, you should answer one of my idiotic assumptions. Just one.
MA: Just one. All right, I like how we have new rules! I didn’t know we had these specif—uh, interesting new rules where I’m only allowed to answer one of your idiotic assumptions—
JTO: No, I said I want you to answer only one, it’s not a rule, it’s, I just told you what I want.
MA: Okay great! I want a Ferrari!
JTO: I want you to answer—
MA: I want you to give me a Ferrari, cause I *want* it.
JTO: …No, uhhhh, let’s try to stay on topic—is this too—
MA: No! Let’s try to use your idiotic logic to make a *point* here!
JTO: My assumption is that the rhetoric you’ve presented suggests to me that you are a pick-up site. Now—
MA: We’ve answered this.
JTO: Oh, yeah, but the answer is cause I’m either moronic or socially incompetent or stupid or a b*tch—
MA: UNEDUCATED!
JTO: –or, any of the following.
MA: No no no. It’s—I gave a specific answer. It’s cause of your *lack of education.*
JTO: …My lack of education, do you happen to know what my level of education is?
MA: Yeah, it’s moron level!
JTO: (spit take, laughs incredulously)
MA: (imitates JTO’s laugh)
JTO: I wasn’t aware that that was a level of education!
MA: Yeah, I wasn’t, obviously I wasn’t either, but then I had to talk to you, how do you think I feel?
JTO: So—
MA: I thought you’d be an educated adult—
JTO: –if (garbled) education—
MA: –and able to construct a coherent point, and *follow your own rules!* That’s what I thought!
{fin}
Mr. Hembling presents his version of what happened during the debate here, but provides no link to a video.
Thal: LOL! Perfect! That is EXACTLY what they’re like!
The dude horse in our pasture who was most beloved by the ladies is even named Dude, and he’s a very gentle and long-suffering soul. We joked that the ladies loved him because he was so nice to them, so suck on it, MRAs. Also because he’s more on the “gay” end of the bisexual spectrum, so maybe they all felt safe around him? Either way, he would sometimes get a floppy, useless gelding-boner from all the shenanigans and the look on his face would be like “WHAT *IS* THIS VOODOO, WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MEEE … ??” Then he would hurry away until the world made more sense and he stopped being so confused about everything.
The only other horse he ever tried to mount was another male, and he jumped on this poor horse *from the side.* The other horse, who had been gelded later in life and did his own fair share of homoflexible experimentation, knew what was (probably) going on (not like you could really tell for sure) and didn’t like it, so he took off galloping, leaving poor Dude hanging off the side and hopping on his back legs until he eventually fell off. I don’t think he’s ever wanted to try that again, with anybody, after such an experience.
Contrary to everyone who thinks animals’ psyches are damaged by castration, it doesn’t really seem to bother him … except when he gets really confused and has to ask his gelding friends what the fuck is going on.
Oh, holy shit, a dressage cowboy?? This is awesome!
Dude Horse is a Thoroughbred and was trained for dressage (though he’s never been that good at tracking up behind, his body is just really long), but he also has natural Cow Sense and would instinctively cut — as in, herd — the neighbors’ calves whenever they escaped. The cowboy who owned the rodeo-circus horse would watch this with great interest, and eventually asked my mom if she’d be interested in selling Dude to him! She was not, so instead we just used Dude to try to train some sense into the cowboy’s new would-be cowhorse. It largely didn’t stick, the new horse was like “HELL no” and was having none of it. In the meantime, though, I got to spend a number of hours riding a Thoroughbred in an English saddle while we chased calves — basically the opposite of what’s happening in that video.
It was awesome, and I’d do it again in a minute if I could.
Nah, you know those mares were totally trying to spermjack him so they could stick him with foal support. Joke’s on them, HA! Dude has Gone His Own Way and *puts on sunglasses* bucked the system.
*groan*
😀
By far the funniest part of this is when I realized that they were arguing about the form of the argument.
Seriously! I was halfway through when I got to the part about ‘now, the question is would I prefer time to answer the question’ and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head, and I just started laughing, and laughing, and laughing…
We had an Arab who had been trained to some roping/barrell racing. He’d do the “spin”. Just be still, and then tap the inside of the circle you wanted. So long as you kept tapping your calf to his side, he’d spin.
Which always amazed people, because I ride English
@guffaw ferrets
🙁 Poor horse. Glad you were helping her later.
And your horse stories are nice. Thanks for sharing 🙂
Oh, that poor epileptic horse.
I think we established a few days ago that I’m a piker when it comes to horses, so I’ll say this:
I love their noses/lips, they’re so soft and dextrous.
Beloved ran across a List of Things I Am No Longer Allowed To Do As A Horse, and I recall the following item:
LOL! everyone.
Since you all like the horse stories, this one’s for Falconer:
Dude once fell in love with a stallion, which is a Love That Could Never Be given that stallions tend to get irrational and attack other males for no reason (witness: MRA behavior? except horses are half-ton semi-domesticated prey animals and MRAs don’t have that excuse). So they could only ever nibble one another’s lips over the top of the stall wall or nip one another’s asses as they were led past each other’s stall doors.
Anyway, this stallion was very beautiful, athletic, talented, well bred, all that — and as the son of an Olympic jumper horse he was deemed extra eligible to compete in a lot of breed-association shows. He did very well in one, and was presented with a cooling blanket to wear as he and his rider were waiting for their ribbon. Right then and there, in the middle of the arena, in front of the judges and the Breed Association whatsits and Ceiling Cat and everyone, he decided it was as good a time as any to beat his meat. So he casually began flexing his junk, and it rustled the cooling blanket. His rider, who has ridden many other stallions in her career and has a great sense of humor about it, said it looked like “a puppet show under a tent.”
They still got their ribbon, and hopefully everyone else got a good laugh out of it.
Ftr, I’m going to be laughing at “foal support” and “Dude has Gone His Own Way and *puts on sunglasses* bucked the system” all day today.
* YEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!! * /horatio caine
Huh. I never knew horses had such strong personalities! Just goes to show me. So now I shall share a horse story!
About five years ago (OMG so long), we were working in Dipshit Nowhere in NZ. I mean REALLY nowhere, as in we can walk forever, but far as we could walk, there was nothing in any direction except the Buddhist retreat center we worked at, the LARGER Buddhist retreat center up the road, a few homes, and livestock. That was it, and for a week or so, we were working in complete, utter solitude.
Naturally, after finishing our chores, we had time on our hands, so we began to explore the countryside. After hiking around in the mud and the springs and the mountains, we blunder into the area some homes were in, including their livestock. One had horses, and its leg was SHREDDED. It looked gruesome and quite painful, and though we aren’t the smartest about horses, we knew that a bad leg injury could be the end of one.
Only problem: we were in Dipshit Nowhere alone and didn’t know anybody. So we decided to do the only thing we could think of, which was pound on every door we saw until someone answered us.
We succeeded. We found a neighboring family, who were able to contact the owner, who was out of town! The horse is saved, the family invites us in to see haka competition vids (they were practicing for a competition), and everyone lived happily ever after. The end!
Found a link to the FULL DEBATE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13baExMTmRM
Good job, LBT!
You’re right: a leg injury can be the end of a horse, whether immediately due to the injury or during recovery. (Horses aren’t very patient, and they often want to gallivant before they’re completely healed, which more often than not just re-injures them — that or, as with Barbaro and Secretariat, they develop fatal secondary conditions during convalescence.)
So your assistance was awesome and, as you figured, probably literally lifesaving. It definitely saved the poor critter some unnecessary pain. You deserve every good thing! And *you* will be rewarded greatly by the Equinati someday. I would even send you a cake made out of cookies in the here and now, but it wouldn’t fare too well in the mail.
As an aside: one time Dude more or less sprained his ankle from literally bucking the system. He is an extremely accomplished rodeo-style bucker who, when in peak shape, can buck so hard he “swaps ends” — eg, turns himself around 180 degrees in midair. It all turned out okay for him, so I will leave this comment with that mental image.
And remind any lurking doubters of feminine strength and capability, that a dainty little woman trained such an animal all by herself and used to routinely ride him at a full controlled gallop over varying terrain in order to jump over series of large unmoveable natural obstacles. It was awesome. Men have often told me I couldn’t *possibly* do something like that, and I eat their commentary as jam on my toast.
I miss my horse. He wasn’t anything special, but he was mine.
RE: Falconer
We never knew you had a horse!
RE: guffaw-ferrets
Yeah, it was rural back country, and it definitely seemed good we stopped by, because the owner had to rush back from out of town. Later, we saw the horse with its leg neatly bandaged, seemingly going about its business, and we took a photo or two of it as a memory. Seeing how far out we were, there’s no telling who would’ve seen the horse next, and when. It must’ve blundered into barbed wire or something, because yeah, it looked awful.
With rodeo horses like that, are they actually TRAINED to buck? Or is it just inborn talent?
Falconer: special is as special does! Or even as special simply *is*. Some well-bred horses are expensive ill-tempered duds, and you can pull a scruffy, questionably-pedigreed, unpapered animal in from a field somewhere or off an auction truck and make a best friend for life. I’ve known both ends of the spectrum and everywhere in between, and some of the most wonderful animals were the ones who were “useless” for anything but mowing the lawn and being somebody’s best bud. Preaching to the choir, but still. If you miss your friend, you miss your friend.
LBT: six of one, half dozen of another. Some horses (like Dude) are just biologically gifted, some have to be taught (in a really shitty way: they get fitted with a ‘bucking strap’ that irritates them and are then turned loose to try to buck it off), and some biologically gifted horses have their skills augmented with the bucking strap for an extra special experience.
I have never personally rode a rodeo-bucking horse (Dude having a little Moment here and there doesn’t count) but the rodeo cowboy had. He spoke high praises of horses who have innate bucking skills. He also had a scar on his forehead from a run-in with a bull’s horn, so … everybody has their own priorities?.
PS: Falconer, what you said about dextrous horse-lips? Isn’t it hilarious when they flip their lips up in the air and make that amazing face? Also when they groom your hair with their lips, or whisk the dirt off the grass or … now I’m waxing poetic too.
Btw, when it comes to relative specialness — Dude’s value on paper is, like, not very much. He has weird habits and an “engine” that’s too big for most people’s tastes, he responds well to only a very specific type of rider, and he can’t be used for breeding. Since I stopped being able to ride, he’s pretty much just been trimming somebody’s grass and keeping my mom company. But he is “my brother”, so he’s priceless to me.
Now I miss being around horses. 🙁
I particularly miss their fuzzy ears, although the super-dextrous horse-lips come in a close second.
Thank you David for posting my video. It was originally posted on Youtube but the voices were masked so they sounded like incredibly fast chimpmunks on coke. I just used Vegas to get the pitch right and only posted EIGHT minutes of this. The entire thing was hilarious. I was chortling with laughter. Maybe I’ll release the rest of it in blurbs so I can keep everyone laughing at these two inept misogynists.
I regularly go after these guys and gals and have been doing so for about 6 years. I even started my own blog but it’s not really designed although I do have a couple posts on it. The name of the blog is Mancheeze ( I couldn’t get the ‘s’ so I had to go with the ‘z’) and it’s on blogspot.
Thanks
Sael Palani
Equinati pictures:
http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/35/34/ce/3534cea29fad4f2f769289dfac9ccb9b.jpg
http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/0e/07/a4/0e07a460eb90898b8bb5e50f6fe0ad34.jpg
and this one is especially appropriate for this site:
http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/27/a0/19/27a019b8332bf11cf7a0a32022209146.jpg
Now I miss the ponies too… 🙁
My work is done. *disappears in a cloud of beet pulp-scented sparkles*
Now that would almost make JohntheOtter worth listening to. 😀
I have really, really enjoyed all your horse stories. I miss my girls every single day and it’s great to know that there are other people out there who appreciate fuzzy wiggly lips and wacky interactions!
*flits shyly away*
Manboobz: Come for the mockery, stay for the horse stories.