Category Archives: your time will come
Ferdinand Bardamu to fat chicks: don’t make me want you!
Syndrome, the king of monologuing.
As you may be aware, Ferdinand Bardamu of In Mala Fide has taken a brave and bold stance against “fat chicks.” That in itself is not very surprising, or interesting, really. But in a recent post he offers a take on the fat acceptance movement that betrays an strange bit of … paranoia, maybe?
After a few uninspired swipes at “fat-assed she-beasts and big-titted blubberboys” and the “femilosers” on Tumblr who recently batted around an anti-“fat chick” post from his blog, he makes this strange pronouncement:
These histrionic little girls are full of it. They don’t want fat acceptance — they want to FORCE men to be attracted to their endless rolls of fat and their cheesy crotch creases. Fortunately, their emotional delicateness will ensure that they will fail. We are the Patriarchs, and we’re coming to take back what’s ours. Beware.
Ferdy, don’t worry. The fat chicks of the world aren’t going to FORCE you to lust after them, and wouldn’t even if they could. I haven’t conducted a poll or anything, but I’m fairly certain that the fat women of the world are just fine with you not being attracted to them. Heck, I’m pretty sure most skinny women would prefer that you not be attracted to them either. They really don’t want your lucky charms.
Also, the weird little bit at the end there, the thing about “coming to take back what’s ours?” In The Incredibles, they called that “monologuing.” I don’t know quite what motivates so many manopshereians to want to talk like comic book supervillains. But it is sort of adorable.
Get in mah belly, Heartiste!
Apparently the Heartiste Formerly Known as Roissy has discovered our little blog:
Why do normal people feel a natural disgust for feminists and manginas? Make no mistake, normal women are as repulsed as normal men are by shrieking feminists and wimpy manboy pudgeballs. In public, well-adjusted people may mouth the PC platitudes that feminists and doughboys relentlessly cudgel into squishy groupthink minds, but in private the cool people generally shun the orc hordes and leave them to mingle with their own emotionally and often physically disfigured kind. This social outcast status is what fuels their eternal hatred for truth and beauty.
Uh oh! I guess he’s not a fan.
The 800 pound bulldyke in the room that “””progressives””” of all stripes don’t want you to notice is that a lot of their radical regressivist shock troopers are comprised of biologically faulty men and women who are at the extremes of effeminacy and masculinization respectively. If it came to be widely understood and socially acceptable to acknowledge that, due to hormonal imbalance, genetic glitches, or gross environmental insult, 90% of radical femcunts are lesbians or manjawed atrocities, and 90% of manboobs are closet cases or soft, pillowy micropeens, the general population would be less likely to seriously entertain their insipid drivel.
U mad, bro?
Think about the revulsion you feel when you see a grossly obese person. It’s instinctive, like the way you would recoil from a pile of dog shit.
Dude, I don’t know if you know this, but most Americans are, you know, fat. WE ARE LEGION!
Your typical outrage feminist and limp-wristed manboob flirts dangerously close to the monster threshold. Humans recoil from manjawed, mustachioed, beady-eyed, actively aggressive women and chipmunk-cheeked, bitch tittied, curvaceously plush, passive-aggressive men as if they were the human equivalent of dog shit.
This has got to be the most ridiculously verbose version of “yeah, well, you’re a fatty” I’ve ever seen.
Oh, but it seems like we’re all about to get our big comeuppance:
The reflexive indulgence granted the monsters among us has lost its justification. Too many bleeding wounds from too many overzealous bites has rattled the slumber of the sleepers. A greater force than any sophistic monster in the world is about to bite back, viciously, lethally. Truth, as it always does, will claim ultimate victory.
Yeah, except that I’m pretty sure that “I hate you, you fat fatty” isn’t a Truth that matters a lot to anyone but you and your maladjusted fanboys.
Also, dude, you call yourself “Heartiste.” There is literally nothing more dopey than that.
