Author Archives: David Futrelle
Yesterday, several days after the twentieth anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s suicide, A Voice for Men took a moment to honor the brilliant musician who tragically ended his life at the age of only 27.
Well, not exactly. What they actually did was run a terrible poem using the anniversary of Cobain’s death as an excuse to launch an extended attack on the supposed evils of feminism.
Here’s the opening:
Feminists killed Kurt Cobain
Men my age are all the same
They hate themselves & feel ashamed
For what they are & cannot change
It gets worse. The poem, written by a YouTube MRA calling himself Laudanum Byron, continues on for another 104 lines after this. Only 13 refer to Cobain, and five of these are simply repetitions of the opening accusation: “feminists killed Kurt Cobain.”
The rest of the poem consists of an assortment of Men’s Rights talking points sketched out in the most melodramatic manner possible.
Men chastised, demonized,
Healthy males pathologized
A man is just a dirty ape
Longing, lust, desire: all rape
Your body is a loaded gun
And all that it has done is wrong
Like all too many MRAs, Mr. Byron lets his anger at women get the better of his logic. In the following lines, for example, he lashes out at women both for living off of the earnings of men — and for earning money of their own.
Now the girls get told get what you can
After all, he’s just a man
You’re right to think it’s right to take
Yes you go girl, you make him pay
The girls get taught they must get on
Like work empowered anyone:
To sell your life for dollar bills
Taking calls & stacking shelves
In offices & factories
Fulfilment sought in drudgery
Mr. Byron – no relation, one presumes, to the actual Byron – seems to have only a rudimentary notion of what a poem actually is. While most, though not all, of his lines scan, he has persistent troubles with the concept of rhyme, with his aabb and aabbcc rhyme schemes dominated by half-rhymes and quarter-rhymes and, well, the words have some similar sounds in them.
“Bills” and “shelves” don’t rhyme, or half-rhyme, despite both ending in the letter “s.” “Take” and “pay” aren’t even remotely close.
Admittedly, “chivalry” is a tough one to rhyme. But surely one can do better than “steeds.”
White knights, on their hobbled steeds
Still cling to laws of chivalry
Passed over by the queens they save
A joke to all the other slaves
When he pulls off an actual rhyme, it comes a surprise:
All of us the sons of Cain
Feminists killed Kurt Cobain.
But while we’re on the topic, it’s worth pointing out that feminists and/or feminism did not actually kill Kurt Cobain. (Nor did anyone else; the conspiracy theories suggesting he was murdered don’t make a lot of sense.)
Byron’s only “evidence” linking feminism to the suicide?
He screamed onstage & pierced his flesh
Put on make-up, wore a dress
Look, nobody knows for sure the reason or reasons Cobain took his own life, but he was a troubled man with a history of suicide attempts. He suffered from depression and from a painful, persistent stomach ailment. He was addicted to heroin. And as his suicide note made clear, he found the fame he had achieved to be something of an intolerable burden; he felt like a fake. Like a lot of suicides, Cobain’s could be seen as psychologically overdetermined; it could have been caused by any or all of these things.
Using his suicide to score cheap rhetorical points against feminism is not only dishonest but highly disrespectful to his memory.
To top off this gigantic platter of disrespect, whoever wrote the headline on AVFM didn’t even bother to spell Cobain’s first name correctly. It’s Kurt, with a K.
Below, “Byron’s” own reading of his poem. If you can’t bear listening to it — I only made it a couple of stanzas in before I had to shut it off — you can make your way to AVFM, or to YouTube, to read the rest. I feel safe in saying that Kurt, who considered himself a feminist, would have hated it, and A Voice for Men as well.
As I mentioned before: I’ll be giving a talk titled “Escape from the Planet of the Friend Zone,” tonight at Northwestern. No, I won’t be giving dating advice; I’ll be talking about the Friend Zone as a cultural construct. The talk is part of Northwestern’s Annual Sex Week, sponsored by the College Feminists; it’s cosponsored by NU’s Men Against Rape and Sexual Assault.)
The details: It’s at 7 PM in Kresge Hall 4365, which is on the Southern end of campus, near “the rock.” (Here’s a map.) If you’re taking the el, get off at the Foster stop and head east; then a little ways south when you hit campus.
Do You Even Lift, B*tches? Men’s Rightsers fight the injustice of hypothetical women-only weight room hours
The latest outrageous assault on Men’s Rights? Well, according to more than a thousand upvoters* on Reddit, it’s this: some gym somewhere might be considering women only hours in its weight room to accommodate women who feel uncomfortable lifting amongst men.
A female MRA who goes by the name of stuck_at_starbucks came to the Men’s Rights subreddit with this tale of anti-male injustice from her local gym:
I was on the treadmill and saw two women start walking towards the weight room, then stop at the entrance and one if them said, “oh nooooo, we can’t go in there, there’s men!” They started complaining that it “wasn’t fair” that they “couldn’t use the weight room ” and took it to the front desk. The manager came out and told them that they were considering having girls only hours for the weight room.
Naturally, the Men’s Rightsers responded to this with the calm, reasoned comments for which they have become so famous. Ah, who am I kidding: they posted nearly 300 comments that ran the gamut from screechy outrage to, well, slightly-less screechy outrage.
So at this point you presumably all know about James Franco’s less-than-successful attempt to text his way into the pants of a 17-year old fan — which, if it wasn’t just a publicity stunt for his latest movie, which happens to be about a creepy teacher preying on a student, was pretty creepy for real.
You might have been struck by the, er, bluntness his approach, which could be summarized as the “I’m James Franco, are you technically of legal age in New York State, can I get you alone in a room with me right now, no I’m really James Franco, really” technique.
But what you haven’t seen yet is an analysis of Mr. Franco’s TEXT GAME by a recognized expert in the field. And by expert I mean our new friend Christian McQueen, the Alpha Playboy with the Obviously Fake Name.
Mr. McQueen asks the timeless question: Was Mr. Franco’s TEXT GAME desperate or just direct?
To some it may seem like he’s being ‘thirsty’, but is he really? Or his text game actually the type of game that high value men use?
After going line for line through Mr. Franco’s conversational gambits with the wary teenager — which, you may recall, not only failed to convince her to come to his room but also created a bit of an embarrassing scandal for him — McQueen concludes that Franco’s game was …. “solid.”
You see, when you’re James Franco, you can just go ahead and behave like some dude straight out of the CreepyPM subreddit, because you have “so many options, that [you] can go Ultra-Direct in [your] text game and many players who are on a great level utilize this.”
Don’t bother with small talk. Don’t bother with charm. All you need to do is state your famous name, determine if she is of legal age in the state you are in (and she was, in New York), and then proceed to work out the logisitics. And BAM, you’re in like Flynn. (Though one imagines that the real Erroll Flynn actually tried to work some personal charm into his approach with women.)
McQueen sums it up for us mere mortals:
[H]is ’game’ was not ‘thirsty’, but simply Direct. While not great, it was solid.
He is a celebrity, so it’s less about him using Game and more about him asking questions as though they are completing a transaction. She gets to fuck a celebrity and he gets her pussy. Simple.
Yeah. Except that none of that happened and now a guy who could have slept with any one of literally millions of enthusiastic volunteers over the age of 18 is now the poster boy for celebrity creepiness.
He could have been smoother and possibly gotten the bang, but he probably does not care.
Yeah. Unless this is all a publicity stunt, I’m thinking that he probably does care just a little bit now.
This is classic I Don’t Give A Fuck Game.
When your value is high and your time is precious, you don’t give a fuck if she rejects you. This is Next Level.
Well, if by “Next Level” you mean “an approach so crude and creepy that it not only squicked out the 17 year old fan that it was directed at but also millions of female fans who’ve now seen the texts online.”
He put out minimal effort to prove it was him, which was understandable considering she doubted it was him, and when she balked, he ejected quickly.
I guess he’s got a point here. It would have been even worse if Franco had stuck around and tried to pressure the fan to see him.
Remember gents, when your Game is tight and you have High Value, you can go Direct. Men of High Value don’t have time to be wasted. You may get rejected immediately, but you also won’t waste time with girls just seeking attention and validation.
You may, on the other hand, be exposed on the internet as a creepy predator. But I guess Men of High Value don’t care about that, which is why Franco didn’t go on Live With Kelly and Michael shortly after this broke to apologize for it all. Oh wait. He did.
Huh. That doesn’t sound High Value at all.
Hey, Chicago readers: If you can make it up to Evanston this Monday, I’ll be giving a talk titled “Escape from the Planet of the Friend Zone,” exploring some of the mythology of this dreaded place. The talk, like my talk two years ago, will be part of Northwestern’s Annual Sex Week, sponsored by the College Feminists. (The talk itself is cosponsored by NU’s Men Against Rape and Sexual Assault.)
It’s at 7 PM in Kresge Hall 4365, which is on the Southern end of campus, near “the rock.” (Here’s a map.) If you’re taking the el, get off at the Foster stop and head east; then a little ways south when you hit campus. I’ll check about parking for non-students and provide details later.
The last time I gave a talk during Northwestern’s Sex Week, some MRAs got a little overexcited and started making up things about what they assumed my talk was about. (They were wrong.) So, just to make clear: I will not be teaching impressionable college students “how to have good sex,” except insofar as I will be talking about how sexist and self-defeating the concept of the Friend Zone is, which means it’s possible that some dude could attend the lecture and decide to stop whining about getting stuck in the Friend Zone, and thus improve his romantic and sexual prospects with that one simple step.
I haven’t finished writing the talk yet, so if any of you have any thoughts on the Friend Zone — or the closely related topic of the “nice guy” — let me know in the comments below.
I’m also curious about what role the concept of the Friend Zone plays in your everyday lives, so I’m going to spit out a bunch of questions that I may address in the talk and may ask the students as well. I’d be interested in your answers.
Have you ever been put in a situation that you or other people might describe as the Friend Zone? Whose fault do you think it was? Have you ever been accused of putting someone else in the Friend Zone? Did you find this insulting? Has someone else, through their own obsequiousness, put themselves in the Friend Zone with you?
Is the Friend Zone a male thing or are there a significant number of women and girls who find themselves friendzoned as well?
Does the notion of the Friend Zone grow out of male entitlement? Is it a fundamentally manipulative to try to pressure a woman into romance and sex? Or does it grow out of male awkwardness — the inherently difficult situation of shy or perhaps socially awkward guys who are still nonetheless expected to be the ones who pursue women rather than the other way around, as MRA types might argue?
When did the term start getting used? The concept is certainly not new, but I don’t think the term is that old. When did you all first start hearing it?
How can guys (or gals) get out of the Friend Zone?
Can a Friend Zone situation — by which I mean one in which one person is romantically interested and the other isn’t — be transformed into a real friendship, or will the different feelings/expectations of the two people make this impossible?
Alternately, can a Friend Zone situation turn into a real romance?
Is the Friend Zone really a useful concept at all? There are very few relationships — platonic, romantic or purely sexual — in which each partner feels the exact same way about the other. There are mismatches all the time. Shouldn’t we just learn to roll with it? Maybe the answer to the old When Harry Met Sally question — can a man be friends with a woman he’s attracted to? — is, “why the hell not?”
MGTOWer complains: By 18, women are “either dating 30 year old millionaires or (if less attractive) f***ing the football team.”
In case anyone was wondering, the Men Going Their Own Way movement has managed to survive the implosion of MGTOWforums.com that I wrote about a little while ago. Yep, the regulars from there have moved on to several new forums where they continue to celebrate their independence from the women of the world by happily discussing such manly hobbies as video games, model trains, taxidermy and knitting.
Oh, who am I kidding? They don’t talk about any of that stuff. Basically they continue to nurse their grudges against the women who wouldn’t date them in high school, somehow convincing themselves that the best way to be “free” of women is to obsess about them every minute of every day.
Take the charming fella who calls himself ManWithAPlan, who has managed to win himself nearly 1900 “likes” from his comrades on the MGTOW HQ message boards with comments like the following:
I hate [women] because most of them acted like stuck up cunts when they were young and hot. Then they hit 30+ and decide to settle down, and when there are no men to settle down, they start shaming men. This is where most of my hate/negativity comes from, the fact that these women feel entitled to “good” men after having spent the last 15-20 years telling guys “just because you bought me a drink/dinner doesn’t mean I owe you sex”.
And every woman acts this way. Oh you want to slut it up? Sure go ahead and be a cum rag, but I would never date a cum rag. And how would they react to that? “Oh well that’s your preference and you’re entitled to it”. Yeah right, they’d flip their shit and go into shaming language ahoy.
The reason I derive so much pleasure from this is because for the first time in their lives women are being held accountable for their actions. And they don’t fucking like it. Remember when some girl/woman got you in trouble for just crying while you weren’t in the wrong? This is fucking payback.
This may sound a little harsh, but you need to remember that for most young women, life is just an endless VIP party:
Women are born with their so called value. By 15 or whatever they have the looks and power to attract most men. By 18, depending on how attractive they are, they’re either dating 30 year old millionaires or (if less attractive) fucking the football team. And they retain this value until at some point into their 30′s, sometimes 40′s. Men get nothing. We are born invisible. We have to claw, work and suffer for 2-3 decades before we get any recognition. And by that point, we no longer have the energy or fast metabolism we had in our youth. So that means double time for us.
Women are handed the world on a silver platter, men have to fight for it.
Is the MGTOW movement the least successful “independence” movement ever? They’re like someone who breaks up with you, angrily marches out the front door, slams it behind them — and then spends the next five years on your front porch peering in the window.
Pickup artist: “If God ever created a better replacement for women, we’d exterminate them overnight.”
The problem — well, one of the many problems — with a lot of so-called pickup artists is that they think with their dicks, and then use their relatively underpowered brains to rationalize their dickular preferences as The Way The World Should Be.
By contrast, the problems with Lance Christopher, a so-called pickup artist who hangs out in the comments section on Roosh V’s Return of Kings blog, really start when he stops thinking with his dick.
Some dudes roll over and fall asleep the moment after they come; Mr. Christopher contemplates genocide because women don’t want to hear him pontificate about Ukrainian history.
In case you’re wondering, no one else in the discussion suggests that Mr. Christopher’s opinion here might be a teensy bit extreme.
No, the commenters happily share terrible opinion after terrible opinion about the inferior creatures known as women.
Oh, it gets worse.
Cleanup in the pompous misogyny aisle!
You’ll notice that all of these comments have upvotes, by the way.
There may be some even more terrible comments in that thread, but I gave up reading them after a few screens full of this sort of garbage.
The jig is up. I and my collaborators have kept it secret for a long time now, but for reasons I will explain in a moment, I feel I need to come clean about this now, before it is too late:
I created Paul Elam.
That is: “Paul Elam” is a character created and developed by me and my friend Paul Henderson, an amazing improvisatory actor who has taken on the task of playing “Elam” in YouTube Videos, radio shows, and on a few occasions in the real world as well.
I first came up with the character of “Paul Elam” — “Elam” is just “male” spelled backwards — some seven years ago after reading Warren Farrell’s Myth of Male Power and wondering what an updated version of Farrell would look like today as a YouTube ranter. I brought the idea to my friend Paul Henderson, a feminist comedian who was already doing an “angry white man” character in his comedy act.
After a bit of workshopping, we created “Paul Elam” and his “Happy Misogynist” YouTube channel. I wrote the scripts, and Henderson read them out. As time went on and as Henderson got more into his new alter ego, he began adding bits of dialogue of his own. Sometimes when he got too deep into his character of “Paul Elam” he started to scare me a little.
After some success on YouTube and at Men’s News Daily, we decided to set up A Voice for Men. Shortly afterwards I set up Man Boobz, mainly as a way to promote AVFM and generate traffic for “Elam’s” site.
Since then, things have just snowballed. Henderson put me in touch with an amazing group of Canadian improv comedians called the Pouteenagers and the characters of Girl Writes What, John The Other, Typhon Blue, and DannyBoy were born.
Not all of those at AVFM are in on the gag. Dean Esmay for example, is completely sincere, as are most of the recent additions to the AVFM roster.
Up until about a month ago, the whole “Paul Elam”/A Voice for Men project seemed to be going swimmingly, generating buzz — and even a good deal of cash, much of which we have been donating to an assortment of feminist charities.
We kept piling absurdity on absurdity — like adding “human” to “men’s rights activist” to become “men’s human rights activist” — but no one ever guessed that it was all an elaborate prank! We were prepared to let the whole thing run for at least another year, getting sillier and sillier, before fessing up in a joint press conference with me and “Elam.”
But something terrible seems to have happened to my old friend Paul Henderson. After 7 years of playing “Paul Elam,” he seems to have become lost in the character he and I have created. Paul Henderson, in other words, has become Paul Elam.
He used to joke with April Fulieu, our makeup wiz, about how horrified he was each time he looked in the mirror and saw “Elam” staring back at him. But after we shot the last video with him he refused to let April take the makeup off, and when she went to tell me about this he fled out the back door of the studio.
We haven’t heard from him since. At least not as Paul Henderson.
I’m not sure what to do. He’s changed all the passwords on the AVFM server, so I can’t shut it down from my end, and I haven’t been able to contact any of the Pouteenagers either. I worry they too may have gone over to the dark side as well.
I can only hope that by posting this I can give him the wake-up call he needs – or at least arouse enough suspicion that the “sincere” AVFMers will confront him and possibly jar him back to reality.
He’ll deny it all, of course.
But at some point his fake beard will fall off.
That’s what I’m counting on, really.
Oh, dear. Our old friend Roosh – the rapey, racist expat pickup guru – seems to be having some sort of existential crisis. In a new post titled “Men Are Nothing More Than Clowns To The Modern Woman,” – yes, really – he laments the sad fact that women are no longer forced to rely on men.
There is definitely not a single woman alive in the Western world who needs a man. While in the past a woman had to put forth effort to obtain a husband who would help her survive, today she is protected by a welfare state that ensures she will never go hungry or spend one night on the street.
Well, Roosh can rest easy, because, at least in the United States, his nightmare of women not going hungry or being forced to sleep on the streets is just that, a bad dream. Presumably he will be pleased to learn that lots of women (and children) go hungry. Lots of women (and children) are homeless.
Even a child she has out of wedlock from a drunken night out will not have to suffer from her mistake, and that’s in spite of the fact that many nations already provide her with free contraception to compensate for her lack of judgement in selecting worthy mates.
A tad ironic coming from a dude who constantly brags about “raw dogging” it – that is, having sex without a condom – with drunk women he’s just met.
Anything required for a woman’s survival or pleasure can be easily achieved without her having to put forth commitment, sacrifice, or labor. She can shave her head, gain 50 pounds, and disfigure herself with tattoos yet still have many suitors to—at the minimum—have sex on demand.
Such a terrible injustice, that women Roosh finds unattractive are actually able to have sex.
Her food and shelter will be provided by a state which has embarked on an extraordinary effort to compete with men for her devotion and loyalty.
So instead of looking for women who say that they “need a man,” Roosh has begun to focus on women who say that they “want a man.” Unfortunately, when he’s asked women if they want a man, “[o]nly in a few instances did a woman outright say yes, and these usually happened in Ukraine.”
Huh. Not sure that’s a real scientific poll there kiddo, as I imagine that very few women are going to answer “yes” to that question when it’s asked of them by this guy:
Anyhoo, so all this has given poor old Roosh a sad. Because women who don’t need men, who actually have options in their lives, are less interested in jumping into traditional long-term relationships than those with few options in life other than hooking themselves to a male provider.
And so, Roosh has sadly concluded, the typical young women of today
will treat you as a distraction to her more important job, girls’ nights out, and social networking validation happy time. Men have become an utterly replaceable and expendable commodity in a girl’s life. Her interest in a man is not unlike her interest in a new television show or Apple product … .
Huh. Or perhaps this is because you’re dating women at least a decade younger than you, in their early 20s, and this is how people in their early 20s often approach dating?
When I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see a man who has improved himself over the years to be the best that his genes allow—I see a glittery skirt that a girl encounters in the mall.
You see a what now?
Is the skirt too expensive or is it on sale? Is there only one left of her size or is the rack full of them? Does she already have something similar or is it totally novel? Does her friends think it’s cute or just alright? After trying it on, does it flatter her body or make her look fat?
Dude, this metaphor really isn’t working for you.
We are like glittery pieces of fashion to women—items that she truly doesn’t need. Not only has she already collected so many of them, but she can easily obtain more within walking distance from where she lives. She can even browse online from home while in her pajamas through a nearly unlimited selection.
Oh no! WOMEN HAVE CHOICES!
We are not men in the traditional sense—we are clowns.
Well, some men are.
With our tight game we have to be entertainers who create drama and excitement in a girl’s life, just long enough so that she spreads her legs and makes sexy noises, and even though she did commit such an intimate act with us, she will soon lose interest or simply get bored, and then move on to the next shiny cock that catches her eye.
Gosh, who would imagine that the women you have one-night-stands with after meeting them in a bar would treat you like a one-night-stand?
Also, if your penis is actually shiny, you might want to check with your doctor about that.
The other side of this coin is that we no longer need women. We don’t need them to maintain our home or cook good meals for us. We don’t need them in an age where having children is no longer important or valued.
That is true. Men are not incapable of cooking. I can even manage a grilled cheese sandwich once in a while. And, no, you’re not obligated to have kids. Heck, as a man you can get away with not having kids and not even have to take a lot of shit about it.
Whatever natural connection that once existed between the sexes has now been severed. Neither sex needs each other so we dedicate ourselves to corporations, entertainment, and base pleasures instead, and this is a great tragedy that most people believe is a sign of progress, a cause for celebration.
Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha.
I think Roosh think’s he’s had some sort of profound insight here. All because the 22-year-old women he spends his life pursuing don’t seem interested in properly genuflecting to him as a real man.
For the next girl I meet, I’m not going to ask her if she needs a man, because I know she doesn’t. Instead I will simply ask her if she wants a man, and if the answer leans yes, I will perform like the good clown I am so that she is entertained enough to have sex with me. Either she or I will eventually get bored and the relationship will end. Then I will simply repeat my performance on a someone new, because I’m a skilled clown, and that’s exactly what women today want.
You do that, Roosh, honey. Just try to make sure she’s actually sober enough to consent to your “performance” first. I know you have a little trouble with that.
Here’s a little video for Roosh to watch the next time he’s feeling down.
Ok, ladies. Go do some lady stuff, like vajazzling or banning bossy or having pillow fights or whatever it is you ladies like to do, because we have some MAN STUFF to talk about today. Oh, gay guys, you can leave too. We STRAIGHT MEN are going to be talking about how to develop MAD GAME with the ladies so we can become Master Pickup Artists.
I’d like to start by sharing some dope new information I found on the game blog of ALPHA PLAYBOY “Christian McQueen,” who despite the obviously fake name is an actual real game guru taken seriously by dudes who apparently spend considerable amounts of money on his ebooks and “coaching” and whatnot.
But sometimes, in little acts of mercy for the financially challenged, he shares some of his wisdom with the thirsty men of the world for free.
And that’s the case with his brilliant STARBUCKS OPENER which, again, I am not making up. It is an example of INDIRECT GAME, in that you don’t just walk up to a woman and ask her if she wants to have sex with you. It’s a DAY GAME opener, which you use in the DAY and not at a night club.
Anyway, this is what you do. (You might want to write this down.) You walk up to a sexy lady on the street and you say:
“Excuse me. Do you know where the closest Starbucks is?”
BAM! And you’re IN LIKE FLYNN!
Ok, ok, I can sense that some of you may not appreciate the genius of the STARBUCKS OPENER. Some of you even think it sounds a little dopey and not really very sexy at all. Did Casanova go around asking ladies for directions?
Well, let’s let Mr. McQueen explain why his idea is so freaking brilliant:
The Starbucks Opener is absolute GOLD because of a few reasons that I’ll break down right now:
EVERY girl in the world, well 99.9% of girls, LOVE Starbucks. The moment they hear the word ‘Starbucks’, they get happy.
I went and looked for some polling data to support this statement of his and discovered a Rassmussen poll from 2011 showing that 34% of American coffee drinkers have an unfavorable opinion of Starbucks; an earlier Rassmussen poll found that 73% of Americans think that Starbucks is overpriced and 76% say they rarely if ever visit the stores.
I guess they forgot to ask the cute girls what they thought, huh? Probably a bunch of BETAS.
There’s Starbucks all over the world. If you live in Japan and you’re reading this, you can use this line. If you live in Texas or Canada you can use this line. It’s a Global Friendly Line.
Well, pretty much. I mean, Starbucks is in 64 different countries out of 196 in the world, which means that technically speaking most of the countries in the world don’t actually have any Starbucks in them. There are no Starbucks at all in sub-Saharan Africa, or most countries in South America, or much of Eastern Europe or Central Asia. But frankly, most of the countries that don’t have Starbucks aren’t countries that ALPHA PLAYBOYS want to be hanging out in anyway. Just make sure to check to check this map before you try using this line!
‘Starbucks’ equals comfort drinks/food for most people who go there. When a girl hears the word ‘Starbucks’ come from your mouth, she subconsciously goes to that place of feeling happy, safe, comfortable and content. By it coming out of YOUR mouth, she will automatically associate you with those feelings, albeit to a lesser degree. ANYTHING that you can say that gives you an edge from your opening line is good, because it builds comfort in her.
Other “comfort” words and phrases you might want to try to work into your openers: “pillows,” “puppies,” “mashed potatoes,” and “some place far, far away from Chrisian McQueen.”
When you mention ‘Starbucks’, you’re mentioning a globally recognized BRAND. By being a fan of Starbucks and seeking it out, you’re a part of the ‘club’, the fan club of Starbucks that it.
Chicks LOVE BRANDS! Here’s Forbes’ list of the World’s Most Valuable Brands. See how many you can work into your conversations with the babes! It should be easy to incorporate such well-known names as Microsoft, Oracle, General Electric, Samsung, and Frito-Lay. Extra points if you can manage to mention Siemens without giggling.
When you ask a girl where one is, she’ll automatically put you in the ‘normal human being’ category, because ‘normal’ people drink coffee and usually from Starbucks. Any association with something that is popular and normal helps you build comfort.
Asking where the nearest STARBUCKS is, because you want to drink COFFEE, like a NORMAL PERSON, is good. Asking where the nearest GROCERY STORE DUMPSTER is, because you want to EAT FOOD FROM THE GARBAGE like some DAMN HIPPIE DUMPSTER DIVER is not so good. Unless the babe you’re hitting on is a damn hippie dumpster diver.
You can use STARBUCKS OPENER even if you already know where the nearest Starbucks is, because lying is ok if it helps you to get into a woman’s pants. Just don’t use it if you are literally standing in front of a Starbucks, as field-testing indicates that this approach tends to elicit responses like “right fucking here, you asshole,” and “what the hell is wrong with you?”
Now, Christian McQueen’s advice is good for beginners, but if you’d like to learn how to hit up the ladies Man Boobz style, I suggest that you send me $10,000 for my ebook, MAN BOOBZ GAME which I will start writing the moment someone sends me $10,000 for it.
In it you will learn about 100 different INDIRECT KITTY OPENERS from the basic “I have a kitty,” to more advanced versions like “I have two kitties” to others you’ll have to pay me $10,000 to learn and which I haven’t actually thought up yet, but trust me, they’ll be good.
You’ll learn about DIRECT MAN BOOBZ GAME, achieved by taking indirect openers and adding the phrase “in my pants” to the end of them. Thus “I have kitties” becomes “I have kitties – in my pants.”
You’ll learn the fine art of MAN BOOBZ NEGS and how to respond when the woman you’re talking to gets pissed off that you came up to her out of the blue and insulted her. Take this sample dialogue, using my brilliant “that looks infected” indirect opener which I
just thought up thirty seconds ago have extensively field tested.
You: “That looks infected.”
Her: “What the fuck are you talking about? What looks infected?”
You: Um, your nose.”
Her: “My nose is fine, you fucking creep.”
You: “Well, I’ve JUST STARTED MEDICAL SCHOOL so I’m not too good at this diagnosis thing just yet. But in a few years, when I’m MAKING LOTS OF MONEY AS A DOCTOR I will be much better.”
Her: “I only just now noticed how charming and handsome you are.”
Just think, fellas, five or six pages more of this sort of wisdom can be yours for only $10,0000!
I really hope no ladies were reading this because I was really hoping to use the “that looks infected” opener the next time I actually leave my apartment.