Category Archives: I am making a joke
Lords of their Dingalings: Men’s Rightsers outraged at Time writer for noting the lack of female characters in The Hobbit
Can you find the woman in this picture?
Uh oh! It seems that some woman is offering some opinions about Tolkien!
Over on Time.com, Ruth Davis Konigsberg has a brief personal essay reflecting on the almost complete lack of female characters in the new Hobbit film, and in Tolkien’s ouvre generally. As she notes, it’s not until about two hours in to the nearly three-hour movie that “we finally meet someone without a Y chromosome,” namely Cate Blanchett’s Galadriel — and she was added into the originally all-male story by the screenwriters. Blanchette’s is the only female name out of 37 named in the cast list – though there are a couple of unnamed female characters who make brief appearances.
The Man Boobz Street Team Flying Squad goes on a postering blitz!
Sorry to post so late today, but I’ve been super busy helping to coordinate the Man Boobz Street Team Flying Squad in its latest postering blitz. Here are some shots of the team at work in Cleveland, Ohio and Humpy Creek, Alaska.
And here’s the Man Boobz Misandrymobile we use to transport Street Team members to and from their targets. Don’t worry! As you can see, it’s driven by a man. (You know what they say about women drivers.)
Keep up the good work, gals!
NOTE: The Man Boobz Street Team Flying Squad is imaginary.
The Man Boobz Street Team sprays the world!
Posters are so last century, Daddy-o! What’s happening today is GRAFFITI. And so the Man Boobz Street Team — with boots on the ground on all nine continents except Iceland, which isn’t even really a continent anyway — has decided to retool its approach, abandoning its previous massively successful postering scheme in favor of spray paint and spontaneity.
Unfortunately, to be honest, the new strategy has not been altogether successful as of yet. While the energy is there, some of the Street Team have had trouble staying on message.
Ladies! Maintain your youthful glow by limiting your penis intake
… at least if she comes into contact with multiple penises! (Pic from The Kitten Covers; click on the pic to see the original post there.)
Ladies! Do you want to look younger? Forget green tea moisturizers and cucumber face masks and exfoliating gloves! Don’t waste your hard-earned stolen-from-men money on $200 Clarisonic Skincare Brushes or Botox or Shiseido Benefiance Pure Retinol Instant Treatment Eye Masks, whatever those are. Pickup guru Krauser, of Krauser’s PUA Adventures, offers four simple rules to help you look your best!
1) Don’t live past the age of 30!
Women possess a short fragile bloom of youth. From about age fifteen their body begins to take on a woman’s shape but it takes time for her to grow into it – to lose the puppy fat, have her hips widen, and develop the poise of a real woman – so she is kinda cute but not really able to inspire lust. Depending on the girl she’ll hit her true bloom somewhere near nineteen years old and hold it for a maximum of five years. She can continue to be sexy into her late twenties but the unmistakeable radiance diminishes.
2) Avoid “excessive careerism,” or, really, any job with any responsibilities at all:
Women are not designed to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. Look at photos of Clint Eastwood or Charles Bronson. When a man carries responsibility he takes on a weathered look that adds value. A weathered woman looks horrible.
3) Don’t drink (at least more than is necessary to convince yourself to have sex with Krauser):
Men are constituionally far more capable of holding their beer over time than women. It’s not merely because a man’s physique is less important in determining his overall value. Women who drink even 10 units a week are seriously messing up their hormones, their shape, and their skin.
4) Don’t have sex with more than one penis!
“[G]ood girls” who follow a healthy lifestyle and identify with the feminine last longer than “bad girls” who chart a path through hedonistic waters. …
Sex in itself adds to a woman’s glow but sex with different men detracts from it. A woman who gets herself fucked 500 times by one guy she loves will look good. If the same woman spreads those fucks across 30 guys she will look like shit.
Let’s do the math here:
One penis x 500 fuckings per penis =Youthful bloom!
30 penises x 16.67 fuckings per penis = Weathered crone look!
And remember, gals, once you’ve “squandered” your “bloom,” that’s it: “Once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.”
Happily, at least for Krauser’s readers, there is no similar aging effect from contact with multiple vaginas. Evidently, the more vaginas your penis touches, the better! At least I assume that’s the case. Why else would Krauser devote his entire life to teaching those with penises how to get these penises into as many vaginas as possible?
The Man Boobz Street Team Posters the World!
Man Boobz is not only a blog. We’re all about ACTIVISM! I want to thank the Man Boobz “Street Team” for spreading the word via posters in major cities across the globe – New York, London, Paris, Munich, and many more. Here, some photos documenting our global postering offensive.
Here’s one of our posters in Detroit:
And one in La Paz, Bolivia:
And one in Ulan Bator, Mongolia:
Remember the words of Sylvia Plath Genghis Khan Ghandi Gahdhi Gandhi: “First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then you put up some posters, then you win!”
I’m paraphrasing loosely here.
Keep up the good work, Man Boobz Street Team!!!
(NOTE: The Man Boobz Street Team is imaginary.)
Oh, the questions they ask!
Here are a couple of, well, let’s just call them very intriguing questions asked of me by a Men’s Rights Redditor. Since I can’t respond to them on the Men’s Rights subreddit — I’m banned - I thought I’d respond here:
Mr. Levelate, allow me to answer your serious questions with some equally serious questions of my own:
I’ve wondered for a long time how people like you react to the men’s rights mantra of ‘all women are wombats’, when you see a woman who isn’t a wombat, how do you explain this?
Also, many MRAs advocate turning all squirrels into bologna, what makes you think squirrel bologna would taste better than regular bologna, and what would the world do with all those extra uneaten nuts, were it ever to come to that?
Here’s the thing, Mr. Levelate: those things you think feminists believe? FEMINISTS DON’T ACTUALLY BELIEVE THEM.
That “all men are rapists” quote from Marilyn French you guys like to pass around? That was from a character in a novel.
The number of radical feminists who seriously want to get rid of men, or a significant number of them, you could probably count on your fingers. I’m not sure how many MRAs want to make squirrel bologna, but the numbers are probably similar. And, fyi, there are actually more than a few MRAs who fantasize about breeding certain types of women out of existence, like this dude on The Spearhead, and a small army of MRAs and MGTOWers who pine for the imaginary future where babies are gestated in artificial wombs and women are all replaced by sexy sexbots.
Listening to MRAs talking about feminism is a bit like sitting in on a book club in which no one has read the book.
Elam: Take My Male Privilege, Please!
Paul Elam, head ranter at A Voice for Men, has a new video out called “You want privilege? You got it!” The thesis: if women really did have the so-called privileges that men have, they’d hate it and want men to take them all back. Because all of these so-called privileges are really giant burdens. Or, as Elam puts it, somewhat more melodramatically, these privileges have “begun to more resemble an anchor around your neck than the helm of a great ship that everyone tells you that you are captaining.”
Here’s the video.
Well, all right, that’s not really Paul Elam. But that little clip does capture pretty well the tone of his latest post, which is indeed about how male privilege is really a terrible burden.
I mean, this is his opener:
I swear by everything holy that the next time I hear some fembot caterwaul about “male privilege,” I am going to find something to break, turn it into shards, and drag the broken pieces across my chest just to distract me from the pain of their increasing stupidity. Just picture me like Martin Sheen, collapsed in a heap of bloody, tearful insanity on the floor of a cheap hotel in Saigon.
Heck, compared to that, Mr. McDuck’s reaction to the news about his “ice cream” was, if anything, rather restrained.
The rest of Elam’s post is, as is typical for him, a rather trite recitation of a number of standard Men’s Rights talking points about male “disposability” written in some of the most ridiculously overblown prose ever seen outside of an Ayn Rand novel.
Elam complains that he hasn’t seen much benefit from his privileges:
Mind you I still don’t know what that privilege is. One time when I was young and very poor I was late on my light bill. I showed the electric company my balls, but they cut my power off anyway. …
Yeah, as someone who’s also had his power cut off, I’m pretty sure they do that with everyone. I’m also pretty sure that no feminist has ever or will ever argue that male privilege means you won’t get your power cut off for nonpayment.
Here’s Elam addressing women as if they’ve traded place with men:
With your privilege comes the right to work on crab boats, drive trucks, work on electric lines, walk into burning buildings and sink into the bowels of the earth digging out coal and other things people find useful.
Apparently having greater occupational choices is scary and bad.
When a ship goes down, or any other life threatening disaster strikes, you have two choices. Be a real woman and die, or treat your life like it has value and have the world shit on you as a coward who refused to perish on cue. There is also the possibility of third option, either die from the disaster so that men can live, or have another woman blow a fucking hole in your face with a pistol because you tried to save yourself.
Yeah, I believe we may have addressed this earlier. Oh, but there’s more:
Like noticing the emperor has no clothes, it may hit you one day when you decide not to offer your seat to a man; when the stares at you from all around seem to come down people’s noses. …
You must learn not to say a word. Not to anyone else, not even to yourself. You must learn to see flames, coal dust, icy saltwater, death and sacrifice for the trappings of power that the world around you thinks them to be.
Says a dude typing out his manifestos on an expensive laptop he conned nagged his followers into buying for him.
And you must be willing to hang your head in shame over that power, even as the world chews you up, spits you out, and gets ready to take its turn with your daughter.
Elam’s rousing conclusion:
So, that is it, ladies. You want my privilege, it is yours. I will gladly hand it over to you this very minute. I am just waiting for you to meet the pre-requisites of disposibilty and an utter lack of self-value. I am waiting for you to woman up to the job, take off your fucking make up and be ready to bleed, blah blah blah look at me I’m mad!
I paraphrased a little at the end there. But, yes, the world champion at seeing male “disposability” everywhere did in fact misspell the word “disposability.” That was all him. And so, believe it or not, is the following:
I, like a Jew gone weary of being called a chosen one, am completely ready for anyone else, and in particular, you, to be chosen.
Personally, I have had about all the privilege I can stand.
Yep. He went there.
Also, I don’t know if you all knew this, but when women serve in the military these days it’s “like a day care camp for them.”
Also, not to pat myself on the back or anything, but my headline is much better than his. Maybe he should get me to write all the headlines on A Voice for Angry Duck Plutocrats Men.
Discuss.
Burro Misandry
Just look at this blatant burro misandry I found on Tumblr!
The Biblio-Donkey. This is an initiative by a teacher named Luis Soriano Borges, who travels through the most distant and hidden villages of Colombia to bring books to children. The male donkey is named Beto and the female is Alfa.
That’s right! Alfa and Beto! Just look at that alpha bitch burra marching along, so smug and carefree, while that poor beta trudges along behind her, forced to stare at that hot burra ass he will never have! And you just know that the slut burra is totally riding the alpha ass cock carousel.
NOTE: In all seriousness, what Borges is doing is awesome.
Calling women names = human rights advocacy: A visit to A Voice for Men.
So the other day I was perusing the front page of the angry dude blog – sorry, “human rights organization” – A Voice for Men, looking for something inspiring to read. My eyes hit on a promo for a recent AVFM radio show. It was on the topic of feminism, and, apparently, women in general:
Flatworms, eh? You know, those “relatively simple bilaterian, unsegmented, soft-bodied invertebrate animals” without brains, with primitive eye spots that allow them to sense light?
As you know, human rights organizations are widely known for comparing large categories of humanity to primitive worms.
I am reminded of the inspiring words of Martin Luther King:
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. And by the fact that they’re not slimy, dirt-eating worms, like all those damn white kids.
This is, of course, from King’s famous “I had a dream – a really weird dream, where all the white people were worms” speech.
Oh, perhaps JohnTheOther and GirlWritesWhat have some highly clever explanation for that whole “flatworm” thing, but in order to find out I would have to listen to their “radio” show. But life is short, it is a lovely, if a bit chilly, Saturday in April, and I would rather have ferrets chew the flesh off my bones while I am still alive than listen to an hour or more of those two, so I guess I will never know.
But no matter, because there was another post on A Voice for Men that caught my eye:
Yes, I said to myself, I will have to find out what Cooter Bee thinks about the differences between intellect and emotionalism. In the course of my day to day life, I often find myself pondering the deeper philosophical questions of human existence, and when I do, I always wonder: What does Cooter Bee think of that? It is rare that I actually get to learn what Cooter Bee thinks on a particular matter of philosophical import. So naturally I clicked on the link.
Here’s what I learned from the esteemed Professor Cooter Bee:
Endless citation, refutation of fallacy and Socratic pursuit of truth are the tools of reason. Men tend to understand them. Women, generally speaking, don’t because indignation, outrage and gut level distaste are rooted in emotionalism. Women do understand base emotionalism and do respond to it in a more predictable way than they could ever respond to reason. They are also more likely to respond appropriately because the message is more clearly understood. Emotionalism is their language.
So, really, there’s no point in actually arguing anything with those flighty ladies.
No need to waste words or knock yourself out reasoning with feminists or even your wife, for that matter, when a short and visceral pronouncement from on high will do and is more effective.
For example, you can just call them sluts:
Sluts are against slut shaming because sluttiness is, indeed, shameful. Say so. Your position would be unassailable because they too believe it. They invoke moral relativism and slut pride marches as a means to escape the inescapable.
Actually, it’s better if you call the ladies sluts over and over and over again:
Slut Walks, “Sex in the City” and the self esteem cult are all attempts to reassure women that even when they behave abominably that the bad behavior has the sanction of the collective and they face no risk of expulsion if they engage in it. To modify the behavior of women, reimpose that risk. The good news is that it can be done in relatively short order. … A stark and unvarnished remonstration from someone in closer proximity will undo the propaganda swiftly. Declarations of “that is disgusting” accumulate. Hearing it once may not overcome Cosmo and she can dismiss it as an isolated raving of a lunatic. If she were to hear it more often, however, she begins to doubt herself and wonder about her status within her more immediate collective.
You can also modify chick behavior by praising them when they act the way you like them to. It’s really quite simple:
Chick language provides us with a construct that we can use. To women something is “nice” or it is “mean”. They use that simple, emotionally based dichotomy because that is what chicks understand. They use it with us and they use it with each other. That is how they evaluate the world. Use it. …
Most women want to be good so tell them what good is in a way they can grasp easily.
What if they disagree with your assessment of what is good? Doesn’t matter, because you are a man, and therefore right:
Who is to decide what is good and what is evil? Simple. You are. Some men might think it arrogant to anoint themselves as the final arbiter of all moral issues. Not true. As a man, nature equipped you to make decisions based on merit alone without respect to consensus. … You know right and wrong when you see it.
Are there any good women out there? Yes, Cooter Bee tells us. Indeed, there are several women who contribute to AVFM, so there’s them. Beyond that, Dr. Bee, tells us,
I am of the belief that most women are good, if somewhat misled. They only resist righteousness because they think that any behavior that the collective endorses IS righteous. The rare woman who is capable of moral judgment will select good herself and would not be on the receiving end of harsh moral criticism.
Then again, you still might have to yell at the good women from time to time. Really, it’s your duty – it’s for her own good.
Good women are human too. Even in the seldom occurring event of a temporary moral lapse by a decent woman, your diatribe will be no more severe than the one she administers to herself. Would you do less in the case of a man whose judgment falters?
Thank you, Cooter Bee, for your insights!
I had no idea that going around telling women that they’re sluts was a form of human rights advocacy, but apparently it is. The next time I see a woman standing on the streetcorner trying to get me to sign a petition for Amnesty International, I will simply tell her what a dirty whore she is. I will accomplish more with these words than she will in a day of collecting signatures and donations!
NOTE: Since you bring it up all the time, fellas, you might try to remember that the name of the show is Sex AND the City. Also, it ceased production eight years ago.
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