Search Results for markymark
MarkyMark: “How blatantly MATRIARCHAL TV has gotten.”
Our dear old friend MarkyMark (not the actor/singer) is back with more of his unique perspective on contemporary popular culture, which has apparently gotten way too friendly to the ladies. Here’s Marky:
[H]ow blatantly MATRIARCHAL TV has gotten. I was watching the NASCAR race at Loudon, NH today … when the predictable commercials and TV show promos came on. There was one show being promoted that, as far as I could tell, had all FEMALE characters; they were all women! There were no main, male characters I could see in the promo. The show was called Political Animals, and it’s on the USA Network.
Here’s an official promo picture for Political Animals.
I think Marky may need to get new glasses.
Empirical & Prima Facie Evidence That MarkyMark the MGTOWer is a Nitwit
Christina Ricci was cursed to be in this thoroughly mediocre werewolf movie.
Empirical means “derived from or guided by experience or experiment.” Prima Facie, in legal terms, means something that is self-evident.
So I was intrigued when Man Boobz Man Boob All-Star MarkyMark recently promised, in the headline to one of his blog posts, to present “Empirical & Prima Facie Evidence Women Should NOT Vote.” I’m game, MarkyMark. Where exactly do you find the empirical evidence for this evidently self-evident proposition?
In a vast collection of empirical observations called “The Bible.” Specifically, the book of Genesis (not the one with Phil Collins in it).
If you remember Genesis 3 in the Bible, you’ll remember that God gave men & women their respective curses after The Fall. For men, it was to “labor by the sweat of their brow all the days of their lives”; IOW, men were cursed with work. Women were cursed “with pain in childbearing.”
So far this empirical evidence is pretty powerful. MarkyMark continues:
Now, what feminism sought to do was, in ADDITION to having their own curse, was secure for women the curse of men too. And women FELL for it-real smart, Ladies! Not only did you swallow the feminist bullshit hook, line, and sinker; it looks like you ate the rod, reel, and line to boot! Only women could do something so foolish, idiotic, and STUPID.
And now he comes to the nub of his argument:
Though many arguments could be made against women’s suffrage, though many arguments could be made against giving women the right to vote, this situation right here provides both empirical and prima facie evidence that women are NOT smart enough to vote; they do not have the mental wherewithal to vote. I mean, come on! How stupid do you have to be to DOUBLE your cursings from God? …
Seriously, men do NOT go around seeking to add to their curses in life. Have you ever seen men CLAMORING to experience child birth, and all the pain that goes along with it?! No, you have not. …
In closing, though many arguments could be made against women’s suffrage, we don’t need many arguments; we only need one: women, not men, chose to DOUBLE their divine curse; women, not men sought to ADD to whatever pain child birth brought into their lives; finally, women did this eagerly, accepting men’s divine curse with gusto as they STAMPEDED into the world of work. That alone shows us that women cannot think causally, linearly, logically, or for the good of others. Therefore, women should not be allowed to vote-end of story.
After all this talk of divine curses, I thought I would share with you a Divine blessing. Here’s Divine, with her 1983 club hit “Love Reaction.” I think they call her Divine because she sings like an angel. And yeah, the song does sound an eensy teensy little bit like “Blue Monday” by New Order. Her producer was sort of known for completely ripping off other people’s songs.
BREAKING: Irene coverage pre-empts Glenn Beck radio show, MarkyMark annoyed
Think of the real victims!
It seems the evil feminist-controlled media is ignoring a critical aspect of the Hurricane Irene story: the monster hurricane’s effect on the intrepid Man Going His Own Way who calls himself MarkyMark. More specifically, the effect it had on his radio listening pleasure.
MarkyMark, who lives somewhere on the East Coast away from the areas most impacted by Irene, was settling down yesterday to listen to a rebroadcast of Glenn Beck’s radio show. But alas, his favorite radio station chose instead to simulcast the local news station’s coverage of that pesky hurricane instead. Even worse, there were actual women involved!
It’s obvious that some anchor babe is overseeing all the coverage, coordinating field reports, etc. Man, those bitches are ANNOYING! They have shrill voices. They have an arrogant, know-it-all attitude, not to mention filled with their own self importance. …
I was like, enough already! I wanted to serve these news bitches a big, steaming cup of STFU. I’m serious! I have my radio off … now, because I just don’t want to LISTEN to these obnoxious wenches. I may put on the sports station, or I’ll tune in a station from the Midwest; that way, I don’t have to listen to INCESSANT Irene coverage. … I’m like ENOUGH ALREADY! Leave it to women to create drama where there is little or none.
Women! I hear ya, Mark! Hearing them talk about weather is even worse than hearing them talk about shoes! Al day long today today it’s been bla bla, storm surge, bla bla, flash floods in Vermont, bla bla, four million without power, bla bla, 19 deaths. Enough! What drama queens!
And all MarkyMark wanted to do was to listen to Glenn Beck, a man who is not at all a drama queen in any way whatsoever, nope!
I’ve been reminded why I no longer own a TV-these OBNOXIOUS, arrogant, know-it-all, self-important anchor babes. If they had some basis for the arrogance, that’d be one thing; if they actually KNEW WTF they were talking about, I could understand it. What I cannot tolerate is arrogance with no basis. I guess these chickes believed all their feminazi programming in college-silly girls…
Damn chickles and their fancy-pants college educations. You might as well try to train a chimp to wash cats!
Oh wait, they did that. Bad example, Never mind.
On a more serious note, I hope all Man Boobzers in the affected areas (and everyone else, for that matter) made it through Irene ok.
MarkyMark, we hardly knew ye …
Farewell, MarkyMark, farewell!
Guys,
Are you sitting down? Good. Because I have some shocking news for you all: Our favorite MGTOW-blogger-who-believes-stories-in-The-Onion-are-real, the esteemed MarkyMark is, after five years on the front lines, calling it a day. In a post with the ominous headline Time to Wind Down …, Mr. Mark explains:
There comes a point when one gets over his anger at women, misandry, and so on. There comes a point where, at least for me, I simply acknowledge that women are what they are, and nothing will change that. How many times can I poke holes in their hypocrisies, inconsistencies, and double standards? After a while, it becomes old.
But fear not! MarkyMark has one final mission to complete before he rides off into the sunset: He’s got some book about women that he’s going to literally cut and paste into his blog, bit by bit, a process that he estimates “will take at least 6-12 months, perhaps more.”
In honor of his fine service to the men of the world, I will be going back through his archives in search of good stuff. Feel free to join me in this holy endeavor, and post your results here.
He also mentions this:
There’s also an archive of my rantings and ravings online, so now’s the time to find it.
I guess we’d better, huh?
Melodramatic MGTOWer: “Though they may deny it, [women] are, in essence, overgrown children crying out for leadership.”
Women love manly men!
Here’s a bit of, er, “wisdom” about women, plucked from the “Best Of” forum on NiceGuy’s MGTOW forum, and highlighted by our dear friend MarkyMark on his blog. Forgive the melodramatic phrasing; All MGTOWers Are Like That.
Take it away, TQR:
Your eyes are open now. You have finally put 2 and 2 together and realized the “modern woman” and everything about her is an illusion. Everything you, me, and millions of other men, both young and old have been raised to believe is a lie. Women really are the weaker sex. They aren’t equal and the worst part? They never were. …
For those who have the courage to face the truth about modern society, women, relationships, and marriage there is an upside. You’ll begin to gain a greater sense of self as a man and you will begin to understand your own worth. You’ll no longer find desperate fulfillment in the arms of a woman, but instead you’ll find fulfillment in your beliefs, your faith, your principles, your intelligence, your strength, and your natural authority. You are a man. You are the Father, the Husband, and the Adult. You lead, women follow. …
You are like a parent that has realized how spoiled, selfish, and arrogant the children have become. You begin to see them for what they are and instead of giving in to their selfish demands, whining, and temper tantrums you start setting rules, defining boundaries for behavior, and exacting discipline. You become a rock that cannot be moved or manipulated by them. Naturally the child will kick and scream and yell and fight you. But ultimately, the child will appreciate the fact that you have given their life what they’ve needed all along - order. Modern woman are no different . Though they may deny it, they are, in essence, overgrown children crying out for leadership because order brings comfort, security, and safety - everything women today desperately seek. Ironically, the very thing women rage against the most - submission - is the very thing they need.
Also, as you regain your manhood, don’t be surprised if women actually find you more attractive now. We are men. We have been raised to believe that being a man is bad - that masculinity is offensive. That testosterone is a disease men need to be cured of because it offends and scares women. No. Masculinity only scares women because it reminds them of what they aren’t and what they will never be….MEN. We already are what women want - by birth. Unfortunately, once you see women for what they are, it’s hard to say the same about them.
Yeah, I’m sure women are totally beating down TQR’s door, hungering for his manly mixture of misogyny and desperate self-delusion.
Are dog bitches superior to human bitches? A misogynist dingbat says yes.
Bitch, please.
At some point, you’ve probably all heard some douchebag offer some version of the following bit of misogynist humor: You shouldn’t call a woman a bitch because that’s an insult … to female dogs!
A traditionalist Christian named Walter Allen Thompson has expanded this dumb joke into an even dumber essay. And he seems to literally believe it. As he explains in the essay, which has been posted on the Very Dumb Government blog (and which I ran across thanks to a link from our pal MarkyMark):
[W]hen some of you call a woman a “bitch” think about what you are saying. The word “bitch” means a female dog. So if you are going to use the word with its true meaning, you would actually be insulting female dogs, because the dogs have better behavior than many women. … I would never insult my dog by calling Gloria Allred a “bitch”. … I would call her a feminist but not a bitch. The feminist movement has made many of our women unseemly wenches.
Walter clearly holds a much higher opinion of his dog:
I love my bitch and I don’t want to say anything to offend her. My bitch is sweet, my bitch is lovable, my bitch is kind, my bitch is considerate, and she hardly causes me any trouble.
And, and as we all know, ladies is trouble:
A dog will give a man unconditional love; whereas, a woman may or may not keep you around depending upon the prevailing winds. I don’t have to buy my dog a food dish lined with jewels…. My dog doesn’t run up a charge account at Macy’s, and she doesn’t spend $50.00 to do her nails. My dog doesn’t take drugs, drink alcohol, or crash my brand new car.
I don’t know from dogs, but if my cat were actually capable of any of these things, she would do them. That’s part of the charm of cats. They’re tiny little monsters – selfish, self-absorbed, amoral creatures we let into our homes because they’re cute, they’re fascinating, and they’re too small to kill us. Not that mine doesn’t try.
I wouldn’t put up with that from a human being, but I put up with it from my cat because she’s a cat, and had a rough childhood (she was abandoned) and doesn’t know any better. Generally speaking, people expect different things from their pets than from their romantic partners.
Well, not this guy:
All my dog needs is a little love, attention, and her food. Overall, the quality of life with my dog has far exceeded any relationship I have had with any woman. The value of any relationship depends upon unconditional love, and that’s more evident with my dog.
“Unconditional love” sounds nice in theory, but in practice as most of us know it’s really a pretty shitty idea. If someone behaves in a way that is unlovable – attacks you, deliberately poops on the couch, starts reading A Voice for Men — you’re not obligated to keep loving them. Loyalty is, by and large, a good thing, and most of us are willing to cut those we love a lot of slack, but no one should be expected to put up with intolerable behavior in the name of unconditional love. (Also, people sometimes fall out of love. I know, shocking.)
People demand a bit more from their loved ones than dogs do, and that’s a good thing. Also, people know things that dogs don’t, and that’s also good. Hitler’s dog loved him. But then again Hitler’s dog didn’t know he was Hitler. (Hitler returned this unconditional love by having poor Blondi killed just before he killed himself.)
Of course, our boy Walter knows that most love is not unconditional. Indeed, as we saw above, he’s got a long list of conditions — some reasonable, some not — that women will have to meet before he’ll be willing to even consider them over his dog. Here are some more of his conditions, which his dog fulfills but most women (in his mind) won’t:
She doesn’t mess with my mind; doesn’t say. She doesn’t tell me she loves me today, but tomorrow she wants a divorce. My dog doesn’t pole dance at drunken parties. My dog doesn’t pick up “stud muffins” at bars. My dog doesn’t make porno films. My dog doesn’t take me to court (you lawyers..don’t get any ideas) and she doesn’t make any unreasonable demands. It is a perfect relationship as I don’t have to entertain any of her relatives. My dog is my friend and not my adversary.
It’s a pretty revealing list. He’s upset not only by infidelity, but also by women changing their mind about things – “say[ing] yes today and no tomorrow.” (Saying “no” to what? Sex? Does he think he deserves the right to rape his wife?) His idea of a “perfect relationship” seems to be one in which he doesn’t have to deal with a woman’s wants, or desires, or even her relatives.
Walter rails against feminists and feminism, but it’s clear that he also has issues with traditional women actually expecting him to fulfill his role in a traditional male-breadwinner marriage.
If you want to know where you stand with a woman, just run out of money. If you have a woman that stays with you when you’re broke or in a setback, then you have a good one.
Here’s a hint: if you don’t want a woman to expect you to provide for her, don’t marry a woman who expects you to provide for her.
Also: try not feeding your dog for several days, and see how lovable she is after that. (Given the strange literal mindedness of so many misogynists, I should add: don’t literally do that. Just imagine doing it, in your head.)
If I was ever to consider getting married again, the woman would have to (at the very least) rise to the level of the behavior of my beautiful little dog. Dogs and animals stay within the natural order in which God created; many people do not.
No, that’s ok. Stick to dogs for now.
EDITED TO ADD: As Molly Ren points out in the comments, it turns out that some dogs do pole dance. Heck, some even lick the stripper pole, like Elizabeth Berkley in Showgirls. (Well, not exactly like Elizabeth Berkley in Showgirls.)
“Women from around the world look better than anything back in the states, cost less unless you’re totally stupid, and are much more easily disposed of.”
Irony alert! The level of irony in this post is so extreme it might actually harm your computer.
So a couple of days ago, MGTOWer extraordinaire MarkyMark, continuing on with his post-retirement posting binge, shared with us an email he got from a fella who had skipped the country in order to avoid paying child support for his three kids.
I’m a deadbeat dad!!! (light your torches - gasoline in 89, 91, and 95 octane is available in your choice of containers). Yep, I’ve got three kids and I’m behind on my child kidnapping payments by probably 10 grand at present and considerably more behind on alimony and her lawyer fees. I skipped the country rather than be jailed for all of the above compounding my crimes. A runaway slave is the worst kind of slave - one that absolutely refuses to serve his massa.
Yep, that’s right. He compared the legal requirement that he provide financial assistance to his own children to … slavery.
In the rest of his letter, he encouraged other “slaves” to follow in his path.
My favorite bit is the quote I used as the headline:
Women from around the world look better than anything back in the states, cost less unless you’re totally stupid, and are much more easily disposed of.
Ooh. That last bit is rather unfortunately worded – unless he really is suggesting that outside the US it is easier to get rid of the bodies of murdered girlfriends and wives.
So anyway, MarkyMark’s post got linked to on the Men’s Rights subreddit. And this little discussion ensued. You may wish to activate your irony shields now.
Take note of the upvotes and downvotes for these three comments.
Warts and Peace: A trip into the fevered imagination of Christopher in Oregon
I am NOT illustrating this post with a picture of genital warts.
Not that long ago, the Man Going His Own Way who calls himself Marky Mark made an unnerving announcement: due to worries about his secret identity being uncovered, he was shutting down his blog!
Like a lot of Marky’s readers, I was alarmed and saddened by this news: Marky Mark, after all, was one of the most delightfully loopy MGTOW bloggers out there, as well as a regular publisher of the writings of the mysterious anti-sex crusader Christopher in Oregon.
Happily, Marky changed his mind almost instantly. He’s back, and posting like a motherfucker. And today, he graced us with one of his best posts ever: Genital Warts, by Christopher in Oregon.
Regular readers of Man Boobz know they’re in for a treat. For newcomers to the writings of Christopher in Oregon, gird your loins, and your stomach, for a truly amazing outburst of disgusting misinformation! (For actual, legitimate information on genital warts, try here or here.)
Chris opens with a bang:
The effects of an aging or weakened immune system can be profound when it comes to genital warts. They can mass in huge cauliflower like piles, and grow to gigantic proportions. Once the immune system is on the decline, all bets are off. From what I’ve heard and read, the smell from genital warts can be horrific. Poop and other filth gets trapped beneath the blossoming tops, and is impossible to clean.
Combine that with Herpes sores, and you’ve got yourself quite a mess. I can only imagine trying to treat the pain of Herpes sores that are located on massive genital warts, all the while my penis is oozing green puss.
And now I’ve got that image in my brain.
So what can one do about these horrific dangers?
If you would be clean, if you would be healthy, if you would be wise, then renounce all sexuality!
Well, that’s one solution, I guess. It seems a tad drastic. It’s true that most sexually active people will get infected with Genital HPV (Human Papillomavirus) at some point, but in most cases this infection will go away within two years, and only 5% or so will develop warts. Which won’t look anything like Chris’ nightmare scenarios above. (Holly Pervocracy has a great little post on genital warts scaremongering here.)
But Chris goes further:
I admit I was deceived in recent years, and thought I could engage in the use of pornography.
WRONG!
ALL sex leads to physical decay.
Is Chris really saying that people who masturbate to porn can give genital warts … to themselves?
Do you really want to lie in bed some day as an old men with twenty pounds of quivering warts dangling from your groin like some beast from “The Blob”? Maybe it will grow eyes and stare back at you…..?
Now Chris seems to be writing a screenplay for a David Cronenberg movie in his head.
It isn’t good enough to stay single. It isn’t good enough to not date. If a man would be strong, if a man would be wise, he must clear his mind of lust. Stop viewing porn. Stop watching ANY modern films or television shows.
STOP LISTENING TO ANY MODERN MUSIC, which seeks to enslave you with filthy lyrics and that filthy “beat”!
I listen to four to eight hours of classical music a day, sometimes more. It purifies the mind and soul.
Here is the most effective way to use classical music as a boner killer.
So, aside from a bit of the old Ludwig Van, how else can you strengthen your anti-sex resolve? Buy a bunch of medical textbooks and look at the pictures.
I remember the first time I heard about genital warts. I had gone to the Oregon State University Medical School bookstore, and bought some hideously expensive books on STDs. I was young. I was horny. But, I was still religious. I wanted to get laid. But, something was holding me back.
Regular readers of Christopher in Oregon may already have some theories as to what this might be, but let’s continue:
My parents warned me about women. They warned me about diseases, yet what did my parents know about HPV or Herpes? Nothing. Nor did I. I just knew that sex carried the risk of the STDs that were present back when my parents were young. Little did I suspect that the landscape had changed dramatically. New bugs abounded, like HIV, HPV, HSV and HCV.
So, I cracked open the books. I purchased more books. …
Then I saw them.
Warts. Big, juicy, oozing warts.
Crap. I remember the first time I looked at a picture of a homosexual man whose crotch was covered by a mass -a literal MASS- of genital warts. It looked like a Broccoli patch. Flowering all over the place. I was both mesmerized and horrified. I’d never seen anything like it in my life. My eyes were frozen to the page. The warts were just everywhere!
He was either reading medical textbooks or playing Halo:
Back to Chris:
I came to one conclusion right away: I would never engage in sexual intercourse again as long as I lived. (I had only tried it once when I was 21 with a Mormon woman)
Somehow I suspect that didn’t work out too well for her either.
Something in me triggered a defensive mechanism of sorts. (Sort of like what happens when you are out in the forest and you see 1200 pounds of angry grizzly bear barreling towards your sorry ass. You climb a tree and hope for the best)
That’s right. Mormon women are like BEARS!!
I knew I didn’t have all of the answers, but in spite of my lust and constant erections, I knew I didn’t want THAT sort of thing obscuring the view I had of my tallywacker.
Let’s just skip the bits in which Chris waxes poetic about cancer, penectomy, tongues falling off, and people “trying to yank off bloody chunks of warts” from their crotches.
The grand conclusion:
Now, I don’t know about you, but I like my body. Granted, it’s not as young as it once was. I can’t get erections as easily as I used to, and sometimes not at all. But it’s THERE. Dangling at half mast, but it’s still MINE. All mine. It’s not lying in a garbage can in the operating room waiting to be thrown out with the other medical waste.
So, think long and hard boys. Whether you are Christian, Jewish, Deist or whatever. I have come to the inescapable conclusion that there IS a God, and He does NOT wanting people perverting His system of procreation. I do believe He has a temper, as well as a slightly warped sense of humor.
The cost of sex is simply too high these days. Keep it in your pants.
That’s right, fellas: God wants you to hate and fear women and their icky bodies. He invented sex, but doesn’t want you to engage in it. He invented the penis just so he could decorate it with warts.
Is God a Diety Going His Own Way?
Clear your brain with this peppy little tune from days gone by:
Arky-May Ark-May, we hardly knew ye! Also: Stinky vaginas.
Christopher in Oregon learned everything he knows about female anatomy from old Lysol ads.
One of my favorite manosphere blogs is no more. Its proprietor, worried that he might get “outed” in real life, decided to shut it down and delete everything. In deference to his desire for privacy, I will refer to him here only as Arky-May Ark-May. He will be missed.
Luckily, before the shutdown, I managed to grab one last post, a little gem titled “The Vagina, by Christopher in Oregon.” Chris, a longtime friend of Arky-May, is something of an expert on this particular subject, in his own special way. As a man who is very definitely Going His Own Way, it seems clear that he’s had little or no experience or contact with actual vaginas. But he seems to think about them more than perhaps anyone on earth. His thoughts are not kind thoughts.
So let’s pour one out for Arky-May’s lost blog, and enjoy Christopher of Oregon’s ruminations:
Men spend most of their lives trying to get back into the hole they shot out of, so they need to stop for a moment and analyze it. The vagina, I mean.
Here we go.
At first glance, it’s mighty ugly. Floppy lips dangling down like bat wings. The entire region pelted with ugly pubic hair. It’s greasy, and the more aroused and broody she becomes, the greasier it gets.
The greasier? The greasier? You’ve never actually touched one, have you? Reading Christopher of Oregon on the vagina is a bit like listening to a high school student who hasn’t done the reading try to bluff his way through a teacher’s question on Macbeth.
Have I mentioned the smell yet? Let me tell you, it’s horrifying. I have an up-scale Sushi restaurant near my home. I love Sushi, by the way. But, on the edge of the parking lot of the afore-mentioned restaurant, they dump the scraps and unsold fish into a dumpster. I walked by there the other day when it was about 85 degrees, and the smell just about knocked me over. The first thought that occurred to me was that it smelled just like every vagina I’ve ever known.
Chris, clearly the only vaginas you’ve ever known have been fish vaginas. (Do fish have vaginas? They must, right?)
Now, a skunk smells bad. A dead possum smells bad. So does a cat box. But a vagina? That goes beyond bad. And, no, it’s not “musky” or “tart” as some women like to say.
It’s bad. Really bad. I don’t think we have single word in the English language that adequately describes the foul, rancid odor of a woman’s vagina.
Also, they are full of cooties! And centipedes! And mousetraps! And LIBRARY FINES!
There is something patently WRONG with something that produces such a noxious stench that it could, as the old saying goes, knock a buzzard off a shit-wagon at fifty paces.
I’m pretty sure that even the foulest vagina in the history of the world wouldn’t be able to knock a buzzard off a shit-wagon at any distance further than a couple of yards. Buzzards love shit-wagons!
I just ask you fellows to put that hairy hole in proper perspective.
Huh. I thought Harry Hole was a fictional Norwegian detective.
Ah, well. I’m off to lunch with a greatly reduced appetite.
Say hi to Arky-May for us.
“A man is not being respected if the woman he is with has spent her youth, beauty and fertility on someone else.” Um, what?
Vile strumpet! You'll get your comeuppance!
Manosphere dudes – MRAs, MGTOWers, PUAs and whatever other acronyms they will eventually invent – love to tell themselves little “just so” stories about women. One of their favorite stories is the story of the Bad Boy Cock Carousel.
The gist of it: Women in their twenties are at the height of their physical beauty. So they act like entitled bitches, sleeping with every Bad Boy and Alpha Asshole there is and ignoring the humble, honest, hardworking “nice guy” betas silently pining for them.
But once these mean girls hit the age of 27 or so, they suddenly become ugly monsters, and the bad boys stop returning their calls. So then the evil ladies try to glom on to the nearest beta male in an attempt to marry him and steal all of his money.
But the beta males don’t want none of that used-up pussy, and so they Go Their Own Way and everyone ends up forever alone. Or the guys learn “game” and start banging the hotties. Or they just go back to posting sammich jokes on Reddit. I think these are all supposed to be happy endings, because at least the evil bitches get their comeuppance.
Recently, someone posted a n especially creepy version of this Manosphere fairy tale in the comments here; it turned out to have been cut and pasted from a comment on Roissy/Heartiste’s “game” blog by a guy who calls himself PhillyBoy81. It’s long; I trimmed it a little for space.
“[A]lpha males” are doing all the rest of us a favor in the long run. They operate very much like short sellers in the dating market, exposing fraud and helping to discover the true prices of commodities (women).
Yep, we’re on the express train to Doucheytown.
Let’s take a 21-year old chick who’s between a 7/8 (cute to pretty. … She can pretty much get sex whenever she wants it and with whomever she wants to have it with. And that is ultimately her downfall.
Young women (and some older ones) have an overinflated sense of the value of their vaginas. I mean, they have Wharton MBAs paying for exotic trips and they’re drinking Cosmos in the VIP with the Wizards.
Apparently this is just how women in their early twenties live. Who knew?
Since they are able to get such easy access to “alpha” dick, it follows logically that they should also have access to “alpha” wealth, marriage, and the lifestyle that accompanies all of that, right?
Wrong. See, when women gain this enormous sense of pussy power, they swing for the fences. … So, the cute guy with a 3.8 GPA, but no car? Nope, not good enough. The nice-looking pre-med student? “Nah, I’ll just get back to him later. I heard Jude Law’s hotter brother is transferring here this semester.”
This had me worried for a second, but I looked it up: Jude Law does not have a “hotter brother,” or indeed a brother at all, which is good news for all straight men of equal or lesser hotness than Jude Law.
Anyway, back to the evil women:
They invariably end up overplaying their hand. They chase these players looking to get a ring, and then that ring never comes. So now they’re 27. It’s a good thing she kept that pre-med Johns Hopkins student in her back pocket just in case things didn’t work out with the player, right?
Wrong again. In a vacuum, women would have their way. Men beg for sex. Women decide whether to give it to them (and for most guys, they will not give it to you). But luckily, we don’t live in a vacuum. We live in the real world with social constraints, and there are two that work distinctly to a man’s advantage: reputation and age. …
Ladies don’t think … we won’t remember your bitchiness. And don’t think we won’t remember those guys who you ran behind like a cum bucket.
Hmm. I’m pretty sure the only place buckets are gifted with mobility is in old Disney cartoons.
We remember. And we punish.
When a man sleeps with 100 chicks, he’s a stud. When a woman sleeps with JUST ONE guy, that eliminates you as wifey material to ALL of his friends. …
Apparently penises have a sort of reverse-Midas Touch thing going on: every woman who touches one turns into a filthy, used-up slut.
The height of a woman’s value, in terms of her value as a long term partner, is around the age of 27. That is the praecipice. The older she gets, the more her singlehood gets scrutinized by men. Why the hell is she still single? Who’s cock has she been sucking all these years?
Clearly that is the first question every straight man should ask himself whenever he sees a single woman older than the age of 27. (Just make sure you don’t actually ask this question out loud; it doesn’t go over well.)
[L]et’s face it, what virile, successful bachelor wants to entertain a 29 or 30 year old as wifey potential. She’s going to want to become a baby factory right away and rip away the last vestiges of your freedom. I don’t think so. It’s now my time to swing for the fences and bang some of these 21 year olds that I couldn’t bang in college.
Hello creepy older dude lurking in the shadows at the frat party!
In conclusion, a woman’s value is really defined by the type of man who puts a ring on her finger, not the type of guy who will fuck her. It takes a lot of women a long time to understand this, and thus, they overplay their hand. If it wasn’t for the players dogging them out, these women would not get a sense of their true value and start to seek out men who fit within their price range.
It’s all about market equilibrium, yo! SCIENCE!
So that’s the story. It’s a stupid story. It’s not a true story. But it’s the story that manosphere dudes, like young children, want to hear over and over and over.
But I haven’t even gotten to the best part. Our pal MarkyMark, an excitable and somewhat addled Man Going His Own Way, reposted PhillyBoy81’s comment on his blog. In the comments there (as Man Boobz commenter Wetherby pointed out) we find this little gem:
A man is not being respected if the woman he is with has spent her youth, beauty and fertility on someone else.
Yep, that’s right. I’m just going to repeat that, because, wow.
A man is not being respected if the woman he is with has spent her youth, beauty and fertility on someone else.
All women older than 27 or so who date or marry men are disrespecting these men because … they are older than 27. Apparently women age out of spite. Maturation is misandry!
