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It’s not exactly news that the slimeball pickup artists I write about on this blog have a bit of a double standard when it comes to sexuality. What is still surprising to me, even after years of reading these guys, is just how much they hate women for sleeping with guys like them.
For proof, look no further than the latest blog post by Roosh Valizadeh, an utterly appalling slice of misogyny that’s terrible even by Roosh’s low standards.
After a weirdly obtuse “critique” of a video by Swedish pop star Tove Lo – Roosh has a little trouble telling the difference between the singer and the depressed, self-destructive hedonist she portrays in her video – he launches into a vicious tirade against “the current generation of women” that seems driven as much by his own sexual insecurities and self-hatred as it is by hatred of women.
Roosh – a man who moved to Eastern Europe in pursuit of casual sex, a man who makes his living teaching men his dubious pickup techniques – starts off by denouncing women for indulging their own sexual desires with multiple men.
This sluttification of women, which Tove Lo’s catchy song conveys as normal and even fun, is part of a culture where every man who seeks serious relationships with women is a soft cuckold, because he’s the last man in a 30-man gangbang trying to give tender kisses on the lips and labia of a woman who has been rode hard and defiled for years.
That’s right: Roosh evidently thinks every woman who has sex with a man other than him is thereby “cuckolding” him.
How can any man who approaches a girl today see her as more than a cum bucket? Because let’s be real: she has been serving as a cum bucket thanks to a perverse culture that methodically trains and encourages her to take buckets of cum from men who make her vagina tingle, all as a way to help her “grow” as a person, find herself, and become strong and independent, which means not sobbing for more than a day when the latest bad boy she fell for turned out to be a selfish person who didn’t value her beyond the sexual.
What makes this especially creepy isn’t just the double standard; it’s that this is Roosh’s opinion of the women he spends his entire life trying to get into bed.
This is the girl who’s going to be your lifelong faithful partner? The girl who’s going to be the mother of your children?
Wait. So Roosh is telling us that after a few years of riding the vagina carousel, as it were, Roosh wants to settle down and get married? The irony, it burns.
I cringe at that notion, as should all men. I rather be an evolutionary dead-end that let a whore be the mother of my child, but men today are being trained to accept the whore mother and to be the soft cuckold, the sucker that gets to buy the goods at full price even though it has declined 80% of value from its peak.
Seriously, Roosh, please be an evolutionary dead-end.
Not that he’s likely to be able find a willing bride, unless he somehow prevents the woman in question from Googling his name and finding out what he actually believes.
It’s amazing that in just three generations, women have gone from being potential wives and mothers to nothing more than fuck toys. Men used to meet traditionally minded virgins, but are now stuck with a seemingly unlimited pool of mediocre sluts who have been fucked in the ass by multiple men.
So Roosh is shocked that the women he has casual sex with are women who … have casual sex?
Why would he think that his brilliant pickup strategy of pursuing drunk women in bars would result in him meeting a lot of “traditionally minded virgins?”
This is complete and utter decimation of the female human.
Apparently penises are so destructive to women that any woman who encounters more than one in her lifetime is “utterly decimated” by contact with them.
Men can no longer gain any meaning or value from a woman beyond sex, even if he is truly capable of being the world’s number one dad, and rest assured that the degeneracy that has so swallowed America whole will spread throughout the world from the trojan horse technology out of Silicon Valley.
Yep. He’s angry and jealous that iPhones give women more options in dating than just him.
And he also somehow seems to think he’s capable of being “the world’s number one dad.”
How did this happen? How did we get to this point? A book can be written on the answer, but understand that trillions of dollars are to be made by destroying the feminine mother and putting a mindless and shallow consumer fuck robot in her stead.
Oh dear. Here come the conspiracy theories.
The finger can be pointed at the elite and their useful idiots for creating this environment, but the fact still remains that this is not a good time to be a normal man with the normal need to reproduce with a good woman who will stay loyal to him, raise his kids right, retain a thin figure, and take care of his home.
Wow. What a great deal for a woman! I can’t understand why women aren’t lining up in droves for the chance to marry this prize of a man.
A man who puts in triple overtime and travels abroad can find the exceptions, but for the lot of men in the Western world, there is no longer any meaning beyond casual sex that can be gained from women. These are end times for traditional pair bonding.
And yet somehow most people end up in relationships, and the world isn’t exactly running out of babies.
So on that note, I urge you to learn game, seduce these inadequate women, and try out those moves you’ve seen in porn, because that sex drive of yours is not going anywhere and must be sated for your own mental health.
I’ve rarely seen a man so eager to announce to the world that he has absolutely no idea how to satisfy a woman in bed. Or even an understanding as to why satisfying a woman might be a good thing not only for her but for him as well.
Beyond that, however, don’t expect much more, because women can no longer provide you with what women of the past so easily could.
Roosh Valizadeh, everyone – a man who thinks he could be the greatest dad ever.
So how does a man end up loathing the women who sleep with him … because they sleep with him?
I’m not sure that’s the right question. I think Roosh’s real anger is directed at the women who won’t sleep with him – but will sleep with other men.
After all, as Roosh has often acknowledged, the life of a would-be “pickup artist” isn’t one of endless triumphs. In fact, it’s one of constant rejection, as the overwhelming majority of the women that these guys approach have no interest in them.
Instead of being able to roll with this – rejection is an inevitable part of romantic life for everyone – Roosh sees this rejection as a personal affront. In his mind, these women are denying him something that he is entitled to, something that he has worked hard for – hell, he even moved to Eastern Europe in an attempt to find more pliable women to pursue.
That’s why he feels he’s been “cuckolded” by any woman who sleeps with men other than him.
This isn’t just fucked up. Roosh’s philosophy is dangerous to women, as is he.
I think marci’s got the right idea. My table has smoked salmon and chocolate fudge and margherita pizza with fresh basil. Probably a good idea to add a bit of variety to that.
Mine currently has the remainder of a really big pot of jambalaya and some shortbread with butterscotch chips.
I vote we all have one ginormous food sharing event. Who wants to stick with just a couple of food/drink items when you could have a buffet instead?
Oh, wait, I’m female, so I’m supposed to only want to go for the caviar and ‘best’, most pricey food items, and only grudgingly eat lesser-quality foods when higher-fitness women get all the good stuff before I do. It’s the males who are allowed want to sample everything and mix-and-match (just don’t tell the cheeseburger you’re seeing some tacos on the side!)
Pppbbbbpppt! I’m going to eat whatever the hell I want at the tables. No one can tell me what I can and cannot put in my body.
(Though ironically, if this metaphorical buffet was going to correlate with my interpersonal preferences, I’d be sitting off in one corner reading a book and going “nope not hungry. Yep, I’m sure. Yeah, that food looks nice and all, but it’s just not for me. You enjoy, though!”)
Pushing the tables together has my vote!
Rubens and beer (some German brand that comes in a tiny keg…so yummy), and a bunch of Christmas cookies.
I read “Rubens” and immediately thought of the painter!
There he goes projecting again.
Right? He sells the claim that his philosophy will make men happy and get them laid. He then proceeds to make excuses for why women won’t fuck him or love him. He’s miserable and BITTER. He doesn’t have friends and he is not having lots of sex. I doubt he’s having any at all. He’s a little punk liar with no morals who treats the rubes he fleeces just like he wants to treat women. He lies to them, uses them and never gives anything back but more misery. He’s a carrier of misery and he spreads to as many people as he can.
They sell crepes at IHOP, y’all.
IHOP.
Oooh! A potluck! I’ll bring Jell-O cookies (like sugar cookies, but made with Jell-O powder for extra flavor), in both Orange and Cherry flavors, and I will bring chicken and dumplings as a main course. No alcohol, because I’m a teetotaler, but I’ll provide some lovely lemonade and fruit tea.
As for fashion, I’m a 2X (HORRRORS! The MRAs run screaming from the room at the entry of the “land whale,” which is darned convenient as now we can enjoy our food in peace), so fashion is a problem. I’ll wear something that fits, but don’t ask for a designer name.
Incidentally, can anyone tell me why they refer to fat people as “land whales”? I mean, why take an aquatic creature and put it on land, when there are so many fat animals on land, already? Personally, although I found it hurtful, I did have to admit that when the kids called me “Michelephant,” at least it was clever. Why not call me a big, fat rhinoceros? I’d like that. Rhinos rock! Or a hippo? Sure, they spend most of their lives wallowing in the water, but they can walk around on land, too. See, there is so much variety in land animals, why go for the aquatic ones?
Besides, I’m a lousy swimmer.
Hey, I know! Instead of “fashion,” I’ll make myself a Super Michelephant costume to wear! That will be awesome! I can totally rock a cape. I learned how to in my belly-dancing class. Well, it was a veil, but I can modify the dance for a cape. Now, where is that CD?…
Have you ever heard the term “happy virus” used to describe some people’s personalities? Roosh is an unhappy virus, and he appears to be proud of it.
Sadly, while I believe he does exaggerate, I’m afraid he’s not completely lying about getting sex with women. Unfortunately, women with extremely low self esteem often will fall victim to “game,” especially if they have gone to a bar or club specifically to find some casual sex, and are drunk enough not to notice what a jerk he is (which brings up the whole consent issue).
All those elements combined will lead to a surprisingly high success rate. And it makes me sad for those women.
We all think he’s lying, because we know that his “game” is absolute bunk, and wouldn’t fall for it, ourselves.
IHOOOOOP! Now I want to go, because they have such yummy bacon.
@cassandrakitty – unhappy virus! Yep. I’ve never heard the term, but it does seem to fit.
@Michelle: Elephants are awesome! They’re super clever, gentle, loving, and playful! All of which you probably know, but it’s really just an excuse to post a video.
http://youtu.be/BTJe5c0z4AU
brrblblblrrrlblblblbblrrrlglbebbbe!!
I will bring gluten-free goodies, and some awesome Adobo chicken! And several bottles of Pinot.
Unhappy virus – YES. That describes him perfectly.
Awwwww! Thanks for the baby elephant video.
Yeah, elephants are awesome. I’d much rather be compared to one of them than a whale. I think watching Moby Dick as a child scarred me for life.
I’d rather be a whale. Especially if I can be an Orca.
I’d be a nice offshore Orca and eat sharks — not one of those transient orca jerks who plays fluke-ball with baby sea-lions.
Elephants are still pretty sweet, though.
I wouldn’t want to be called a land whale, because the nearest related land critter is most likely the hippo, and me no like-y hippos.
Land-whale is mean, and not nice, and harder to think ‘Really? I’m awesome then!’ about.
@ Michelle – Blue Balls isn’t a myth, but it’s been wildly exaggerated by dickweeds trying to use it to pressure girls into sex: “You don’t know how bad it is for a man to not get off once he’s turned on! I NEEEEd it!’
All it really is, is when arousal goes on so long that all that blood saturating your groin stops feeling good and starts to become an uncomfortable pressure or ache (hardly an unbearable agony, though most men tend to freak out a little when our balls are even the slightest bit uncomfortable). Women can and do get it too (Blue Vulva?). And yes, a quick wank will take care of it, though it may take a couple minutes for the ache to go down.
As for big land animals, you don’t want to be a hippo. Hippos are mean. Of all the absurdly dangerous animals Steve Irwin ever harassed, hippos were the only ones he feared.
Blue Balls is real, and painful. It happens, I believe because, when a man is aroused, seminal fluid begins to accumulate in the rather delicate tubes that bring the fluid to the point where it can be ejaculated. (It is not actually in the balls, but in the lower abdomen.) I am not sure why it only happened once to me, and I am fairly sure that for every time it actually happens there are several (many?) times when it is used as a device to try to guilt-trip women into having sex, to the point where women are quite justified in considering it a mythical device. What’s that old tale about the boy who cried “Wolf”?
In retrospect I find it kind of humorous, partly because it was such a different world nearly 50 years ago. Young women expected to be virgins on their wedding day, and the words “penis” and “vagina” were never said out loud outside of a doctor’s office. I was young, socially awkward, and sexually inexperienced, making out in my car with the first girl I had ever dated more than once, who I wanted to marry and did in fact marry. Sex was out of the question — I knew I could probably talk her into it, but then I would have to deal with a period of serious guilt and shame on her part, which I emphatically didn’t want, so I had accepted that we weren’t going to have PIV sex until after the wedding. Other kinds of sex — maybe. The “condition” came on very suddenly and unexpectedly and I was totally unprepared. It was not time to introduce her to Mr. Boner and ask her to help me deal with him yet, so I had no recourse but to take her home, chat nicely with her mother for the minimum acceptable time, and then run off to deal with the Problem. The awkwardness was that she was clearly enjoying the making out and was not ready to be taken home. She had self-confidence issues and I knew that she would probably interpret the fact that I was the one who wanted to end the night as being a result of her having done something wrong or some other equally negative factor, and I knew that not undermining her self-confidence was important since I was planning to spend my life with her. (Sadly, her self-confidence problems were largely the result of schizophrenia, which I did not know at the time, and my efforts were at best a failure and at worst actually destructive.)
I know that my behavior was extremely Beta, but, as they say, “Happy wife, happy life.”
As to Roosh, when I read his crap, I keep thinking of how he seems to realize that his life is fucked up and almost seems to realize why, but he can’t or won’t make that last small leap to self-knowledge — perhaps because he has too much invested in being Roosh the PUA Guru. The lines from that old Eagles song have been running through my mind when I read his crap:
@Michelle, I am not quite a teetotaler, but I am glad that there will be a non-alcoholic table …
Elephants are indeed awesome, but FWIW we were told at the Roger Williams Zoo that elephants are by far the leading cause of death for zoo employees.
Oh, I think he wants someone who will do all that literally. That, and fellate him, too. Without him having to lift a finger to reciprocate in any way, natch. Because he wants to be KING! And what are kings (with the honorable exception of Kittehs’ Louis, obvs), if not totally unworthy slobs who have servants and peons to do all that for them?
(I’m not kidding, Prince Philip actually has a butler put toothpaste on his brush for him. I’m surprised he doesn’t also just open wide and let the butler brush his teeth while he’s at it!)
It’s all about the testicles, with these guys. No wonder trans men don’t real to them.
And for whatever this is worth, I think “busting a nut” is an absolutely awful way of referring to ejaculation. If a testicle ever DID break during that, it would be an obvious sign of something very wrong. Why use such a disordered sounding expression for a perfectly normal, usually pleasurable thing?
Well, I mean, if they’re that determined to bust one of their nuts I’m sure that could be arranged.
Oh, it’s real, all right, but it’s usually quite mild and only uncomfortable for a brief time, usually <1/2 hr. Women get a variation of it too — it's basically a product of blood staying too long in the corpora cavernosa, corpus spongiosum, etc. of the penis or clitoris (so the "balls" part IS a myth). It creates pressure which can hurt if left unrelieved, but it's basically a really shitty reason to blame or despise anyone, or pressure anyone into having sex when they don't want to.
And yes, it can and should be taken care of manually, in the odd event that it happens, if only for comfort's sake. (You can also wait it out, and maybe apply cold compresses to take the swelling down and relieve the ouch, if you're so inclined.)
I’ll point out that part of the problem is the official (e.g.;, Roman Catholic and other religious doctrine) and unofficial (“you only jerk off if you can’t get laid”) taboos about masturbation. You might recall that one of the reasons Joycelyn Elders got fired as Surgeon General was for suggestion that maybe masturbation should be encouraged, even taught, as an alternative to PIV sex, particularly for young people.