Ladies, we need to talk. About farting.
It has recently come to my attention that women sometimes fart. And that some of you even do it in the presence of men – including the men whom you allegedly love.
This is a gigantic no-no, a sign of disrespect for your man’s manliness. Also, never criticize his farting, because that too is a sign of disrespect for his manliness.
At least according to the douchebags of the Manosphere and the women who love them, farts and all.
In a brief post the other day titled She’s saving her farts for you, the Christian Red Pill blogger Dalrock let rip at a writer on a woman’s site for suggesting that “a man who lets you fart around him” is better marriage material than “a man who is grossed out by female functions.” Men in the latter category are ok only for a bang.
Dalrock sniffed:
Sure all of those other men banged her when she was younger and hotter, but you get something special.
Apparently hot, alpha-cock-carouseling women in their twenties never fart, saving all their flatulence for the betas they later rope into marriage after they hit the wall. Alpha fucks, beta … gets farted on.
In the comments, many of Dalrock’s readers agreed wholefartedly with his analysis.
“Anyone still doubt my assertions of Open Hypergamy now” asked Rollo Tomassi, the blogger at The Rational Male.
Earl let the farty ladies know that he was on to them:
The general thought process behind these comparisons is:
Marry: A man already comfortable in his emasculation.
Bang: A man who either isn’t or decided not to be emasculated.
I hate how marriage has become basically a one way ticket to emasculation in this day and age.
TFH — also known as The Fifth Horseman, and considered one of the leading intellectual lights of the Men’s Rights movement – attempted to put the Fart Question in historical context:
‘Feminism’, far from helping women, has instead exposed the full extent of female shortcomings (moral, mental, intellectual, spiritual, economic, civic) far more visibly than could ever happen before ‘feminism’.
Traditional customs taught women that if they farted openly, their chances of receiving a provider would go down. This allowed society to package women into something that men thought was unrealistically noble. ‘Feminism’ has exposed the truth.
And a stinky truth it is. No wonder TFH is looking forward with such eagerness to virtual sex and the ultimate replacement of farty human ladies with virtual ones, as he predicted in his Misandry Bubble manifesto.
Casey instructed any women reading to
Ignore the advice of other women, particularly feminists.
Marry young, marry pretty, give your husband your youth; not your flatulence.
The Brass Cat, meanwhile, recommended that men “of the gassy persuasion” use their farts as a way to show what totally dominant alpha dogs they are. This, he explained, was Fart Game.
Think of your fart as a primitive territorial marker; everything it touches is yours. When you feel the pressure building up, walk into the kitchen where your wife is (best be makin’ me a sammich!), deliver your payload, and walk away (to a safe distance) while laughing. And while you’re laughing she’ll discover what you just did. She’ll react like “Oh gross, I can’t believe you did that! That’s awful!” You should maintain the laughing and own it–no apology–and say something like “Oh man that was a good one!”
If you did it right she should walk over to you, say something like “You drive me crazy!” then kiss you.
Apparently Fart Game is an actual thing. Because, a few days after reading Dalrock’s thoughts on farting, I discovered a similar discussion in the Red Pill Women subreddit – an online hangout for mostly traditionalist women who want to snag themselves an alpha.
One aspiring Red Pill Woman posted a complaint – now removed by the mods – about her husband’s habit of farting in her presence, which she sees as disgusting and he apparently sees as hilarious.
Well, the farted-upon wife got an earful from the other gals there, who made very clear that it was her job as a Red Pill wife to learn to love her husband’s flatulence – and not be a “horrible, prissy bitch” about it, as one heavily upvoted comment put it.
Moggymojo noted that
I have never willingly farted in front of my partner (I leave the room), though occassionally one sneaks out (where upon I will apologise).
But her husband? He’s a farter, and she’s decided to roll with it. And she thinks that the fart complainer needs to do the same:
I don’t shame him or criticise him for farting …
You might prefer a different method but you have a partner who is being playful – if you respond to that angrily, in disgust etc then you will be rebuffing not only the farting but other light hearted playfulness, openess and ease which should be part of a LTR.
Fart shaming is misandry!
“A man who has a woman who laughs appreciatively at his farts is a happy man,” declared homo_homini_lupus, adding, in a followup comment directed at the fart complainer, that
the more a man is allowed to be a man in his home the happier he will be. If you don’t appreciate his humor you are communicating maternal lack of approval and signalling lack of love. It won’t kill you …
you , however, should not engage in fart and toilet humor, just laugh when he does.
So the Red Pill consensus is clear: Women, you should never fart. Nor should you ever criticize your husband’s farting, because that’s bitchy and emasculating and, well, just not ladylike.
To that I can only say
EQUAL FARTS FOR ALL!
H/T — The Blue Pill
@GodlessK
That comment was perfect.
WOHOO! Finally! Finally this video becomes relevant!
Da Yoopers, “If She Farts on the First Date”.
Take it away, my long-distance relatives in a far-away land!
@contrapangloss
yeah, the dog waking herself up is pretty damn cute. But when she wakes *me* up, less so.
Anything is Game, apparently, as long as it demeans, inconveniences, offends or disadvantages women in some way, or allows a man to feel better about himself at a woman’s expense.
You can take this to absurd levels. Like, when I steal the doona off my partner in my sleep, that’s Doona Game!
If I forget to get something off the high shelves for her, that’s Height Game!
If I stink out the bathroom before she wants to use it, that’s Poop Game!
See, I’m trying to parody these guys, but when they take a concept like “fart game” even slightly seriously, I’m afraid it might not be possible.
Which is why I encourage people who get a period to jokingly use their partners hair as a sanitary napkin.They will probably blush and plant a wet one on you immediately , exclaiming “This is why I love you!”.
If they don’t enjoy that then they’re just bring prissy bitches and are probably doomed to be alone forever or some such.
I fart on your grave.
I have a feeling someone just farted in this cat’s general vicinity:
strivingally
My dude came over this afternoon and fell asleep in my bed pretty much immediately. I thought this was probably just because he was exhausted from a camping trip, but it was in fact Nap Game – ignoring a woman so hard that you lose consciousness, thereby establishing your place as a dominant alphadog who doesn’t give a fuck.
That’s priceless, tinyorc. 😀
Going comatose to put a woman in her place is doubleplus Alpha! I trust that after being reminded of your complete lack of importance you woke your dude up with a fresh-made sammich and All The Sex.
Seriously, don’t these guys realise that a woman who’s comfortable enough around a guy to engage in her normal bodily functions is more likely to be comfortable enough to be an awesomely disinhibited sexual partner? Really, they’re just shooting themselves in the foot here.
Do these standards apply to cats too? If so there is some serious misandry going on in my home. Dracarys is the one who farts. Luckily it doesn’t happen too often but when it does she lets some pretty horrifying smells rip. Darrow on the other hand, has not to my knowledge farted once in the entire 7 1/2 years he’s been with me. Also, one time I farted so loudly it woke him up. Tee hee!
I love misandering. I ate a bratwurst earlier so I’m betting some misandry will be happening tonight.
Think you might be on to something there, striving.
They do view relationships as zero-sum games.
Abusive relationships are zero-sum games…sort of.
Actually, negative-sum games.
The abuser never grows up, which is why they seem like giant, bratty toddlers at times.
…Good relationships improve the lives of both/all participants.
All I can think of in this TMI situation is that these guys better never hope to have children. Because, trust me, after birth, nurses keep you there until you’ve passed quite a number of things and it’s unfortunately public. After a while, you’ll feel justifiably heroic for managing it too, depending on your number of stitches!
It is kind of astonishing how anything normal has to be invisible if women do it, and obvious if men do it. Grooming, health, everything. I don’t think these people really want women, though – they want perfect imaginary sex partners. Real ones really do gross them out. It’s as if they’re so massively invested in the idea of a dichotomy, or opposites, that any proof someone else is a human being is a turn off because it’s innately emasculating.
TMI alert:
I find it really amusing to walk up stairs when I have gas because a fart comes out with every step. Now that I know it’s misandry I’ll only love it more.
I’ve got news for this dude.
Paraphrased from a letter from Madame, the Duchess of Orleans (Louis XIV’s sister-in-law, ie. higher in rank than any woman except the Queen or the Dauphine) to, iirc, her aunt, the Electress of Hanover and mother of George I of Britain:
Monsieur was sitting in their apartment at Versailles with Madame and their son. He wasn’t bothering to talk to them (they weren’t grand enough company for him to bother, according to Madame) but suddenly he let rip a mighty fart.
“What was that, what was that, Madame?” he said, like he didn’t know.
“Monsieur, it was this,” she said, standing up, turning her back and letting rip one of her own.
“Begging your Highnesses’ pardons, I think I can do as well,” said their son, and did.
Upon which they all laughed themselves silly … and vacated the apartment.
Are these the same fart game doodz who end up in the ER cuz they thought it would be a fun game to set their farts on fire? I suspect they are.
Masculinity is a very fragile thing!
We must never fart in the masculine presence, or cut our hair short, or wear practical shoes, or forsake tasteful makeup, or laugh heartily, or act assertively…
We must not eat too much, or eat too little, display our bodies proudly, or display them not at all…be free, or be too prudish. We must neither stand up for ourselves nor be a doormat, think for ourselves nor fail to think, and above all we must forsake our own opinions!
We must be careful to walk softly in our feminine high (but not TOO high) heels and our uncomfortable brassieres…smelling gently of soft perfumes to please the masculine nose…
Our hair long and glossy, our nails subtly manicured and our eyes submissively cast down…Demure and penitent we must be!
We must walk a narrow line! Our every action must be careful, careful I say! As if in the presence of a spun sugar sculpture, thin enough to collapse at the merest waft of a breeze!
We must be very diligent, we women!
Lest we accidentally commit the horror of damaging that pale and trembling hothouse orchid that is masculinity!
*cough* Well I fart pretty freely around Mr K. Not that I’m gonna try holding it in; I have IBS. Anyway farts appeal to his inner five-year-old, going by the way he giggles about them. That or it’s a family thing, given the Monsieur of the letter I paraphrased is his youngest. 🙂
It must be! Fribs does the Stench of Death, preferably when she’s sitting on a lap, which means we get several doses of it every day. Mamie used to do the worst cat-farts I’ve ever known – without going into too much detail, if she let rip on your lap, you had to put those clothes in the wash. Though come to think of it, Magnus was an occasional farter too. It probably was Fart Game with that cross-grained ratbag. 🙂
Word.
I must say, this is the strangest, funniest, and most pathetic thing I’ve seen come out of the manosphere lately. I’m fully convinced these guys quit maturing mentally past the age of 7, when boys are convinced that girls have cooties and stuff.
I actually have issues with what I call flatulence-for-fun. I’ve always been grossed out by farts. Then I learned that odors are actually microscopic particles of the particular thing you’re smelling. Someone lets out a big stinky one in your presence? You’re quite literally smelling their shit. Particles of their poop gasses go up your nose and attach themselves to the olfactory receptors nestled in your nose’s mucus membrane.
Once I learned that, I got quite belligerent about people for fart for laughs. Accidents happen, I understand, but I broke it off with a guy who thought it was hilarious to fart. I asked him nicely not to do that. That night, he let one rip in bed and said “Woah! Did you see that barking spider?”
I told him to leave and that I wasn’t interested in seeing him again. He was shocked that I was that serious about it.
But anyway, yeah. Farts gross me out.
Thank you for listening.
Have we had a kitty video in this thread yet? Cole and Marmalade have a new one on CAT LOGIC. Which is more logicky than manosphere logic.
http://youtu.be/K3p0EFtJIn8
This needs the crackpottery tag, definitely.
blahlistic (@blahlistic)
That’s why men are more logical and rational! ..wait..
TheLadyzombie
::giggles:: thanks for the information! Ick!
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x7mweh_the-ice-storm-eating-molecules_shortfilms
Molecules.
(The look on the teacher’s face is priceless.)
S’wot I’m sayin’.
When I was in middle school, I was standing by my locker with a bunch of girls, and this one guy who had just started “going with” one of my friends was there too. I don’t even know why, but we were talking about farting and joking around, and this boy said, totally seriously: “Wait. Girls fart??!” We laughed at him at the time, but it really stuck with me. I just had no idea until then that some boys thought we were so different from them we didn’t even have the same bodily functions, and it confused and bothered me for a long time. In a weird way, that’s what made me start thinking feminist thoughts even though I didn’t know that’s what they were yet.
(I’ve been reading this website for awhile, but it took a discussion of “fart game” to make me comment. I don’t know how I feel about that.)
http://www.amazon.com/Zen-Farting-Reepah-Gud-Wan/dp/1583940855/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1412561561&sr=8-6&keywords=learning+to+play+with+a+lions+testicles