Category Archives: I’m totally being sarcastic
So our dear friend Heartiste, the white-supremacist woman-botherer, has assembled a little “Chateau Heartiste Crib Sheet of Game,” a compilation of some of his best pickup advice, boiled down to a few handy tips and clever one-liners that wannabe alpha males can use on the ladies during conversation in order to get their ginas tingling. (Sorry, that’s the way these guys talk.)
Looking at Heartiste’s list of “lines” I was struck by how generic and, well, frankly unoriginal most of them were, from standard issue negs like “nice shoes. Those are really popular now” and “is she always like this?” to old-school PUA cliches like “I don’t buy girls drinks but you can buy me one” and “what else do you have going for you besides your looks?” both of which come straight from peacocking PUA pioneer Mystery, the guy with the fuzzy hat and the long-ago-cancelled VH1 show.
Indeed, a lot of Heartiste’s “lines” are as old and stale as he is:
Don’t get clingy
Miss me already?
Hey, hands off the merchandise
If i didn’t know any better i’d say you were trying to pick me up
So I thought I’d do Heartiste a little favor and write up some new lines for him and his fans that are both more original and a bit more honest. Next time you’re in “da club,” Heartiste, why don’t you try some of these out? Some of these I made up myself; some are taken, or adapted, from things you yourself wrote.
Hi, I spend most of my life on the internet trying to figure out how to manipulate drunk women half my age into bed.
People on the internet know me as Heartiste. No, not Fartiste. With an H. No, it’s not a joke. I thought it up myself.
I like to call black people “darkies.” No, not to their face. Anonymously, on the internet.
I’m an alluringly savvy man self-assuredly parrying the clit-hardened jousts of intrigued women.
Too much outbreeding decreases charitable kin-feeling and incentivizes a decadent ennui that severs the citizen’s sense of obligation to his nation and co-ethnics.
A gentlemanly selectiveness honed by years of experience and psychological nimbleness has proved adequate at filtering out women likely to lay like dead fish in my roiling sea of sperm.
If anyone can usurp the lawyercunt in cuntishness, it’s the Twittercunt.
The walls are closing in on the lords of lies and their feels army of emotabots.
Whether our ruling class knows it or they bumble along like drug addicts seeking the next pleasurable injection of power at any cost, their sex-swapping project will turn the West into matricentric, female forager Africa.
Every time we had sex over the following weeks, it ended with her tucking her knees under her chin naked on the bed to quietly cry into the wrapped bubble of her body.
The only bond that matters in a woman’s heart is the one you caulk in her cock vault.
The ruling elites despise whites, despise the concept of whiteness, and despise especially the idea that the territory and nation and culture from which they parasitically suck the lifeblood was created and sustained primarily by white men.
The id of the Like Me Generation is a furry suit wrapping a toddler.
Women should avoid trying to be funny altogether and stick to maximizing the return on their authentically valuable assets. That would be your tits, ass, face and pussy, in case you were wondering.
That last bit was pure Heartiste. (As were the previous ten.) Like the women of the world, I can’t hope to attain such pinnacles of wit.
Happy Valentine’s Day, gynocrats!.
Over on A Voice for Male Students, the always-reasonable and never-hysterical Jonathan Taylor celebrates this day of candies and flowers and irritating Kay Jewelry commercials with a lovely little piece entitled “The gynocentrism of Valentine’s Day, and the spoiled princess mentality.”
In it, he takes aim at a holiday he sees as rewarding the sort of woman who behaves like a “privileged princess who didn’t get her pony when she was five.”
His proof of this “gynocentrism?” The custom graphics on Google’s home page today, which I have screencapped and pasted in above.
At first glance, this all seems very innocent. We all remember these adorably crappy candies with the little messages on them. But Taylor is able to discern its insidious deeper meaning in their words:
The inclusion of the “Mr. Right” heart may seem like a small thing, but it is also rather telling, especially coming from the #1 website in the world. Women have expectations and standards. Where are men’s expectations and standards?
We aren’t told about them. Unlike “Mr. Right,” the phrase “Ms. Right” isn’t used in common parlance. The very incidence of men having standards for women is often regarded as sexist, even if they are entirely reasonable – such as not being so fat that you are diabetic by the time you are 35 and bedridden by the time you are 55.
In the age of Feminism, the only people women “answer to” are themselves.
Now that I’ve taken a closer look at Google’s message, I think that Mr. Taylor is if anything understating its creepy gynocentric intent. Take a look again at the first two candies.
CRUSH MR. RIGHT
Clearly this is an invitation to murder. Nay, to MAN GENOCIDE.
FIRST KISS 4EVER YOURS
… because if he is dead, your first kiss will make him — or at least his corpse — forever yours.
Of course if he is dead, he will not be able to fulfill his normal sexual functions. So Google seems to be recommending bestiality.
And then, to cover up your crimes, it suggests that you blind all of your future dates so they can’t see the corpse you’ve got stashed in the spare bedroom. (You may also need to do something about their sense of smell.)
Has the true ugliness of this gynocentric holiday ever been more nakedly displayed?
Just in case anyone missed it, this post is almost entirely made up of
… except for the bit about Kay Jewelry ads, which really are irritating.
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So over on A Voice for Men, young Jason Gregory seems faintly jealous that young women who put up dating profiles online tend to get flooded with messages — and the occasional dick pic — from horny guys.
F]ree cock is everywhere. Men give it away like it’s worthless. … I doubt that it is unusual at all for a woman to get 300 messages in her inbox from men who are desperate for female affection, approval, and sex. There is no doubt in my mind that men send “dick-pics” and clamor, bother, and sometimes harass women for their affections and attentions.
But Jason feels no sympathy for young women who put up profiles hoping to meet some nice young fellow who’s also into Sherlock and Neil Gaiman and Indian food and instead get messages from guys who introduce themselves by expressing a desire to ejaculate in their hair.
No, Jason is angry because he’s convinced all these offers of “free cock” only serve to make the women of the world into snooty-stuck stuck-up so-and-sos who think they’re all that and a folder full of dick pics.
All you men who give it away, all you do is reinforce the entitlement mentality of women who believe that their being present is plenty. You reinforce the idea that women don’t owe anything to the relationship—that they deserve a free-ride of cocks and that they don’t even have to break a sweat.
Jason, I should add, means this last bit literally. He’s resentful that when he allegedly engages in the act of coitus he has to do all the work while his alleged partners allegedly lie there like inflatable love-dolls.
Anyhoo,.Jason has a plan to take these stuck-up ladies down a peg or two: A cock strike.
Yep, he wants men to start saying “no” to women who are interested in them, just to see how they like it. But he doesn’t want them to just say no. He wants them to be giant dicks about it.
Try telling a girl no. Tell her, after she makes it clear that she wants your cock, that you’re not interested in giving it to her. Tell her that she isn’t interesting, that her soul is dog-shit and that she has nothing to offer other than boobs and booty, that she is a piece of shit and a total failure as a human being, that you don’t find her attractive and that she isn’t even good enough to be a cum-bucket. Tell her that she is never going to be any good at sucking cock and that she needs to stop pretending that she is doing any favors and learn to compensate for her inadequacies by becoming “kinky.” Tell her that her vapid life of shoes and pop-culture and materialism are soulless pursuits of dog-shit. Watch what happens. If you Jez-ladies wanna know what “hostile” means, see this rejected woman.
A Voice for Men, you may recall, sees itself as leading the most important civil rights movement of the 21st century. I am sure Jason Gregory’s post here will be remembered alongside Martin Luther King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail as a classic in civil rights literature.
EDIT: I added a couple more “allegedlys” to a sentence I thought needed them.
Longtime readers of Man Boobz will have noticed that most of the pickup artists and “game” gurus I write about here are also vociferous slut-shamers.
This might seem a little odd and, well, counterproductive, in that you might expect that men who enjoy having no-strings-attached sex with a large number of women would in fact be kindly disposed towards women who enjoy having no-strings-attached sex with a large number of men.
Let’s say you wake up one morning and you decide, for some reason, that you’d like to make it your goal for the day to get yourself banned from the Men’s Rights subreddit.
If you’re a feminist, it’s not hard. I managed to get myself banned there some time ago and all I had to do was … well, I’m not exactly sure what it was I did. Actually, I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, Reddit-wise, other than argue with the regulars there. It’s possible I may have engaged in some light sarcasm. So maybe try that.
If, on the other hand, you hate women, all you have to do is … well, again, I’m not sure. Because earlier today, as one friend of Man Boobz pointed out on the Against Men’s Rights subreddit, a dislikeable fellow who calls himself sciencegod posted an elaborate, graphic torture fantasy to the Men’s Rights subreddit. I’m posting it below as a thumbnail; click to see it full size, but TRIGGER WARNING because it’s very graphic.
It got some downvotes, and the mods deleted the comment. But it didn’t occur to any of the mods, evidently, to actually ban this user from the Men’s Rights subreddit.
Because obviously anything he might ever have to say on the subject of Men’s Rights is much more worthwhile than anything I might ever have to say on the subject.
I asked the mods why they felt it necessary to ban me when they wouldn’t ban someone like sciencegod, and here’s the response I got back:
This is pretty much the answer I get whenever I ask them anything. I could ask them if they thought the sky was blue and they’d send me the same response and probably put something in the sidebar saying the sky was red.
Ironically, elsewhere in the Men’s Rights subreddit today I learned this:
Huh. Where on earth might I have gotten the impression that there are MRAs who hate women?
Oops. There’s that sarcasm again. When will I ever learn?
Today I feel an irresistible urge to post music videos. Above, an awesome interpretation of a rock classic that is sure to get you PUMPED for the weekend.
Below, enjoy the silky voice of Phil Collins.