CAVEMEN

While browsing through Facebook this morning, two people directed me to an article which described a world that heretofore had evaded my gaze almost entirely: The Man-o-sphere. Which is basically slope-brows acting upset over women. Oh, and hating on circumcision, which suggests that they're penis-obsessed and really wish that they had that extra millimetre, but that's probably also something that they blame on women.

From Wikipedia:
According to Caitlin Dewey of The Washington Post, the manosphere's "core philosophy basically boils down to this: (1) feminism has overrun/corrupted modern culture, in violation of nature/biology/inherent gender differences, and (2) men can best seduce women (slash, save society in general) by embracing a super-dominant, uber-masculine gender role, forcing ladies to fall into step behind them." Eva Wiseman of The Guardian said that "Advocates of the men's rights movement are united by their belief that feminism is the enemy." They are strongly opposed to circumcision and believe that a double standard exists in society in how circumcision is viewed relative to female genital mutilation.
End cite.

Key terms: Manosphere, pick-up artists, male victims of abuse, father's rights proponents, Red Pill, Return of Kings, "pure unvarnished women hatred", seduction techniques, manliness ......


"Almost 53,000 subscribers who believe that women are designed solely for sex and sandwich-making."
-----Eva Wiseman


I'm imagining a whole bunch of pudgy men living in their mom's basement right now. Many of them tattooed and pierced. Most of them have a well-thumbed dictionary in which they look up intellectual words.


You know, fifty three thousand losers out of a population of three hundred million isn't an awful lot. There are millions more Republican Tea-party droodges and fundy Christians, and they are far more worrisome.
Yes, there is an overlap; most of them are also women-haters.


A real man can make his own damned sandwich.


Personally I am not that fond of sandwiches, although when at work four days a week I have recourse to such items. Usually purchased from the nearby convenience store run by misters Singh, Singh, and Singh. Because pre-packaged semi-industrial "bread-and-what-the-heck-is-this" is just so darn sexy, especially when hairy brown Punjabi arms take my money.
Why, Heavens-to-Betsy, this now tastes good!

They are stocky, and incredibly butch!

And probably not circumcised.

Not that I think about that.



One my three days off I head into Chinatown where I don't have to deal with all of you wussy-ass weirdoes and your introspective self-absorbed sense of hurt. Dang you Americans are goofy!


Sorry. I really shouldn't sneer at all you pussies. It's mean, and your little egos are all bruised.

Life is tough.



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