“You should be thankful for feminism because without it, you wouldn’t be able to sleep around.”
Of course, the effect that feminism has on the quality of the women we get to sleep around with is never discussed; it’s always assumed that quantity is the only thing that matters. Case in point: the feminist utopia of Denmark, where you can get all the slutty sex you want without fear of “judgement,” but where the women are poorly-dressed, hideous harridans more concerned with belittling you for being a man than being decent human beings.
In Roosh’s first “hater travel guide,” Don’t Bang Denmark, he lays into everything wrong with the most ignorable nation in Scandinavia: high prices, boring people, weak nightlife, and the bizarre social convention known as Jante Law. And of course, the women:
Even the style of Danish women is atrocious. They dress frumpy and dumpy, as if they just checked out of a homeless shelter. For some reason, these girls are big fans of dirty black military-style boots, turd-green or brown jackets (sometimes with a German flag on it), loose clothing, baggy jeans or MC Hammer parachute pants, and mismatched scarves or grandma shawls. Their favorite color is brown, since anything feminine like pink is sexist and breaks Jante Law. They step up their style game at night, but during the day they look like absolute hell. There seems to be a competition on how plain and unattractive they can make themselves.
If you want to get laid in Denmark, you better learn to shut your mouth and nod along with the stupid liberal shit that Danish women make on a regular basis. In other words, you’ll have to surrender your masculinity and your balls. This forced castration got so bad for Roosh near the end of his stay that he started flat-out insulting the girls he met instead, for no other reason than to ruin their nights:
I constrained my alphaness as much as possible when I wanted to fuck, but I furiously unleashed it when a mediocre girl tried to assert her superiority over either me or my country. I’m not a patriotic American, but I let those bitches have it by elevating my voice, pointing my finger at them in an aggressive manner, and using sound logic to destroy their arguments. The look on their faces was priceless because up to that point no one in their entire lives had ever used the phrase “you’re wrong.” Even though many nights I went home alone and jerked off (after briefly considering whether or not I should bang the hot Russian prostitute), I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
Like Roosh’s other travel guides, Don’t Bang Denmark is rounded out with a story section detailing his adventures there.
If for some reason you’re contemplating a trip to Denmark, or you just want a funny and scathing piece of sociology, Don’t Bang Denmark is a must read.
Click here to buy Don’t Bang Denmark.