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.
I haven’t ridden since I was 14 but now I misssss ittttt 🙁
I never thought of horse lips as soft. They are so much firmer than one expects, though amazingly gentle/dextrous. Ours really like beet pulp (ours… not mine any more; but one has memories… they belong to my previous parnter). Long rides in the dark. Fast rides; in pursuit of aid; and quick rides done for fun.
We used to leave Arcadia, and walk up to the fire-road gate (we had a county key, so all the fire-roads were points of entry for us) and then into the foothills of the Angeles Crest).
Heck, she and I really started dating because she needed a riding partner (as she said, she could find someone to sleep with pretty easily, but no one ever wanted to go riding). The long vigil when Sienna was having her first foal, and the casual way Tchotzke dropped hers (it was her third, old hat), and the guy building the wall trying to tell us (in his broken English, and not quite clear on this subject Spanish), “the Mare, she is bringing the baby”, and us thinking it was something with Sienna (we bred them both to the same jack donkey at about the same time). And lazy morning rides, and days spent just being around the smell of warm horses and teaching them a new trick, or weighing hay or…
Now I’m all sorts of nostalgic; as the rain falls softly on New Jersey (keeping me from repotting my etrogim (btw Argenti, the AV cutting didn’t make it. Stem rot).
Well fuck. Any guesses why? Cuz I can cut another one no problem. How about the crassula?
And that rain just gave me two liters of rain water for when the sundew arrives (should be here Friday, you’ll be the first to know when/if it blooms)
Nostalgia smells…fresh cut wood. Cuz stage crew.
pecunium — I’ll try the terrarium style cutting when I get home, not like I haven’t a fucking plethora of 4′ pots to spare (oversized, sure, but I seriously have at least 6) — I can do the humidity grown plants. And the 30g has a grow light, plus I need to hang the 10g hood for the sundew…and that fucking peat moss disaster has specific directions for using it to grow cuttings.
No harm in trying, the plant won’t mind any.
It’s looking like my mother will be buying me the equipment for a brine shrimp hatchery today. Have not clarified if I’m paying her back.
& LBT — keyboard, when are we doing it?
Lol, duh. I’ll have the bases of a couple liter bottles from the shrimp hatchery, I’ll give a pair of cutting a go. Was going to do the plant rearranging today anyways so it’ll be all ready when the sundew arrives.
/spamming thread
@precunium- Sadness on the etrogim. It’s hard to believe that Sukkot is only a little more than a month away. I have sermons to write soon, because I’ve taken a pulpit for the coming school year and they’re having me preach second day Rosh Hashanah (oh no, don’t mind me, I’m just panicking. I’ll be fine).
Hopefully your Elul is restful and appropriately reflective!
@M Dubz, You’ve got a pulpit! You’re going to do just fine. (Keep repeating that over and over.)
The etrogim are doing well, I just want to move them into a pair of pots, not one. The soil will dry out some, and I will mix a good batch of new dirt and then put them into it. One will have Oregano at the base and the other will get some Za’atar. We will have them, the olive, and the pomegranite indoors all winter. The Grape overwinters in the garage. All I need is a fig, right?
M Dubz – bravo on the pulpit, go you!
Thal: beet pulp scented! holyshit
We fed Dude beet pulp for a while because he has an appetite bigger than grain can sustain and gets thin in the winter. Once the barn owner called my mom and said Dude wasn’t eating … and had refused his grain for several *days.* That is not at all normal for him, and since his father and sister both had colic issues, my mom rushed out there trying not to freak out (which is a big effort for my mom).
Turns out the barn owner just didn’t know how to fix beet pulp, and was serving it to him dry. Naturally he didn’t want to eat something that was the consistency of metal shavings, so he just used his dextrous lips (soft peach fuzz fur, firm muscles and whiskers) to sort out the grain kernels and left the rest. He wasn’t sick, but he *was* super unimpressed.
therainparade — aww! Happy to help, as I miss “my brother” too and can talk about horses for hours. Stick around and don’t be shy, you are among your people here!
RE: Argenti
My nostalgia smell is garlic on my hands; I was chopping it when I proposed to Mac.
And keyboard! Is October 1st or 2nd doable for you?
Awwwwwwww thanks you guys *shuffles feet and blushes.* It’s an internship in a larger synagogue with a head rabbi who is really in charge; mostly during the holidays I’m running children’s services. But I will eventually have to preach and lead services and all the real rabbi things. It’ll be my first time getting paid to preach for grownups. I’m not even 26 yet and I feel waaaaay too young to be doing this. But I guess I’m old enough; I impressed them enough that they hired me…
Ours were mixed, some liked it dry (longer chewing time) and others wet. We moved to all wet, because that means less risk of colic. Speaking of beet pulp:
http://www.allcreaturesanimalhealth.com/refId,42027/refDownload.pml
Just try not to drop your pilpul in the pulpit (they get stuck on the floor, and are hell to clean up).
LBT — maybe? A couple days later would be better, cuz beginning of the month welfare “check” but my mother funded my next, and hopefully last, fish project, so I should be good on train fare. You want metro north, not Amtrak btw, the fare is MUCH CHEAPER.
My horse was just a horse, really a pony, not 15 hands. My grandfather bought him for me and my brother when we turned 5. We’d been living on a farm inherited from my other set of grandparents for a couple of years, and grandad declared we needed a horse. So he found this race horse who never had won much and was 5 years old, too old to race, and bought him and gifted him to us about the same time he gave my parents several cows.
He turned into a big dog, really. We didn’t have the riding equipment — Mom found an old side-saddle in an outbuilding, once — and his temperament was not compatible with a couple of five-year-old, horse-terrified boys who were trying to learn to ride.
The upshot was, once he trotted for the barn with me on his back. I fell off and the ground was not kind, and I never got back on the horse until I took lessons, years later.
My horse did not turn out to be proof against the ravages of time, so I miss him a lot, sometimes.
My strongest nostalgia smell is whatever air freshener my college used in the residence hall lobby where we played fantasy RPGs for a year and a half. It was Palladium (now there’s an incoherent system).
I am quickly gaining a nostalgia feeling for whatever scent they put in the diapers I keep me bairns in.
Speaking of whom, if anyone feels like casting a sleeping spell over my girl to end at dawn tomorrow via the internet, pro bono, I would be greatly obliged. I can pay in the Minecraft block of your choice.
Nostalgic smells (sorry, I can’t help with sleeping spells): On hot days, when I leave the building I work in by the entrance that has a wooden staircase, the smell as I walk out is exactly the same as it was in my grandparents’ attic. I guess it’s just unpainted wood, but I always get such a weird sense that I’ve been transported back to Idaho.
HIgh Desert Sagebrush: new rain (on asphalt, on sagebrush, on pines).
Some perfume my grandmother owned; the side room I slept in smelt of it in the pile of clothes to the right of the door.
The smell of the seashore, esp. on a rocky beach.
Not a nostalgia smell as such – don’t have any of those – but the smell of cat fur. I just love burying my face in kitty fur.
Pecunium — low tide. I forgot how much I hated that smell until I moved back here. I’ll take early morning lake most though (me, up at dawn, go figure)…camp…the closest I’ve come to something resembling peace. (Contra, fresh mulch, as that was the day I was chewed up by mosquitoes worse than when I had chickenpox…ropes course we laid it for was awesome though, zip line is the closet I’ll probably ever come to flying)
@guffaw-ferrets – Yeah, I’m pretty hardcore.
I do miss the feeling of horse lips… Fortunately my bf knows that, and since his lips feel the same way, and are very strong and nimble, he’ll sometimes whisk them against my hand or face so he can see me be happy.
I used to live around a lot of hot springs and other thermal features, so my nostalgic smell is sulfur.
Nostalgia smells- fresh cut grass and woodsmoke; not for any particular memory, but just because they are nostalgic-type scents. The smell of wet clay, because my dad works in it. The smell of Bath and Bodyworks, which reminds me of my teenage years in hilarious and painful detail.
Nostalgia smells – rain on hot pavement (Asia), cardamom coffee (Middle East).
Hamster cage 🙂
Jergens Almond-Cherry lotion. My mother has used it (or a close variation on it) since I was wee. I was at a wedding with her in San Diego, and since I forgot my lotion I used hers and I was reminded of my childhood.