Last Friday, Return of Kings published my article “Six Reasons Why Portland Sucks for Single Men.” While I love Portland as a whole—the culture, the music, the spirit of entrepreneurship—I took issue with the city’s cliquish atmosphere, its depressing weather, its preponderance of bums, and its fat, unfashionable, unjustifiably egotistical women. In response, Portlanders took to the Interwebs to point and sputter about what a misogynistic asshole I am, proving everything I wrote about their city and more.
Showcasing Portland’s typical friendliness to newcomers, a few folks threatened grievous bodily harm on yours truly, though as expected, they were complete pussies about it:
My article also made local shitrag Portland Mercury’s “Monday Hate-Reading” (God, how much of a loser do you have to be to seek out material solely to get offended by it?), where commenters falsely labeled me an “MRA” and compared me to George Sodini. Even better, a white knight at Seattle/Portland Pulp posted a best-of compilation of my writings. Additionally, my joke girlfriend ad (and yes, it was intended to be tongue-in-cheek, not that feminists are known for their reading comprehension) has been getting passed around as well.
You can’t buy this kind of publicity, folks.
The coup de grace was this boner from two-bit hack and Chuck Klosterman fanboy Brandon Tietz:
Did you get that folks? Calling fat girls fat is now the equivalent of reciting a racial slur in a black neighborhood. Also upthread, Tietz claims I’ve “pissed off every member of the fairer sex in the publishing world,” as if the opinions of overweight feminists are somehow relevant to my writing career.
So far, not a single Portlander has bothered to factually refute anything I wrote. Their slings and arrows boil down to one of five things:
- I’m ugly/fat/have poor fashion. (Rich, coming from a city full of fat acceptance advocates who buy their clothes exclusively from the Salvation Army.)
- I only went to Portland for a few days and/or only stuck to a couple neighborhoods. (Even though I wrote that I’ve been in Portland for months, and I’ve been everywhere in the city, from Downtown to Hawthorne to the ‘burbs.)
- I’m butthurt that Portland didn’t live up to my expectations. (This despite the fact that I wrote in that article that I loved Portland in spite of its many flaws.)
- I’m full of myself for thinking that Portlanders would care about me hitchhiking across the country. (Everywhere else I went, from Chicago to Minneapolis to Seattle, people thought I was crazy/cool/a badass for hitching. Portlanders are the only ones who didn’t care, a obviously fake pose brought about by insecurity at having no equivalent accomplishments of their own.)
- If I don’t like Portland, I should just go back to Syracuse. (Again, this was despite the fact that in the very first sentence of the article, I linked to a blog post in which I basically said Syracuse was a town going nowhere fast.)
What’s weird is that the Porklanders also went after me for making criticisms that any objective observer would think were totally reasonable. For example, half of them jumped down my throat for writing about Portland’s massive homeless problem. “What do bums have to do with anything?” Um, they’re a criminal nuisance and an eyesore? Am I supposed to be happy that every homeless junkie in the Pacific Northwest gets to use the Multnomah County Central Library as his personal urinal?
The only reason Stumptown hasn’t been infested with squeegee men yet is because washing windshields requires too much effort.
So what gives? Why are the fine citizens of Portland so incapable of handling criticism of their city? The article itself wasn’t even that vitriolic; I didn’t use four-letter words or insult anyone in particular. If I were to write an article criticizing Syracuse—talking about the city’s crime problem, its horrible winter weather, its laughably corrupt politicians and hack media outlets like the Post-Standard that cover up their misdeeds—most Syracusans would go, “Yeah man, that’s spot on.” Hell, I’ve said less than flattering things about plenty of other cities (Des Moines, Williston and Spokane among them), yet Portland is the only place so far to go ballistic at anything I’ve written.
The answer is depressingly familiar.
When Torontonians exploded in anger at Roosh’s article on their city’s faults, he got the exact same response I did: not a single factual rebuttal of his post, just a lot of shit-slinging, insults and mouth-foaming rants. The reason they didn’t try to refute anything Roosh wrote is because they couldn’t, because deep down they knew he was right.
I haven’t been to Toronto in years, but I used to visit the city often, and I know for a fact that it’s always been a deeply parochial and pretentious town. Up until the 1970’s, it was basically a sleepy little Nowheresville, the Providence to Montreal’s Boston. It wasn’t until the Quiet Revolution “convinced” English-speaking Quebeckers to get the hell out of Dodge that Toronto became a city of some importance. Ever since then, Torontonians have been obsessed with trying to prove that they live in a world-class city, mainly by ripping off NYC at every turn, both figuratively (such as by loading the city up with immigrants) and literally (by tearing up a historic district so they could make room for a crummy Times Square knockoff).
For a guy like Roosh, who’s visited and lived in countless countries—and thus more than qualified to pass judgment on a city—to diss Toronto, to say that’s basically a fourth-rate hick town, is utterly devastating to Torontonians’ egos.
When a guy who’s been from the beaches of Brazil to the university towns of Poland says your city sucks, on what basis do you have to refute him? Unless you’ve been where he’s been, you can’t. But because most people would rather die than abandon their most cherished delusions, Torontonians lashed out at Roosh rather than admit the truth of his words.
It’s the same with me and Portland.
I’m a relative guppy in the manosphere when it comes to travel, but I wager I’ve seen more of the U.S. than 80 percent of Portlanders and 90 percent of Americans period. As of this writing, I’ve visited over thirty states and lived in five, in every region of America. I’ve been everywhere, from the beaches of North Carolina, to the college towns of New England, the hipster bars of Chicago, the subways of NYC, the wind-beaten prairies of Iowa, the tourist traps of Washington, D.C., the mountains of Montana and Colorado, and the docks of Seattle.
If anyone’s qualified to pass judgment on Portland, it’s me.
Like Torontonians, Portlanders labor under the delusion that they live in a world-class city. Apparently, having a crappy TV show about your town and getting a sloppy blowjob from the New York Times every other week will get to your head. Like most leftist enclaves, people in Portland believe themselves to be worldly and cultured, even though the most traveling the majority of them have ever done was taking the Greyhound there from their crummy little cul-de-sac in Illinois.
I’m sorry to break it to you Portland, but you are a third-rate city. You’re a nice third-rate city, a third-rate city I enjoy living in, but third-rate all the same.
You’re huffing glue if you think PDX, with its infestation of bums, its ineffectual city government, its spineless police force, and its homogeneous, conformist “we’re all about tolerance, unless you do or believe things we don’t like” culture, can hold a candle to any of the true world-class cities of the East. Even Seattle, the crown jewel of the Northwest, is a backwards Hicksville compared to New York, Chicago or even Boston. Acting like a stuck-up debutante only works if you have the class and accomplishments to back it up, and if the most significant thing you’ve ever done is getting a master’s degree in Post-Colonial Transsexual Studies, don’t get indignant when men who are actually accomplished call you on your bullshit.
And unfortunately, since none of you have the travel or life experience that I have—and no, flying over red states on your way to a Fire Island orgy doesn’t count—none of you have the credibility to challenge me. When you’ve hitchhiked across an entire continent, or worked as a ditch digger in North Dakota, or been held up at gunpoint by cops in upstate New York—or done things that are as equally remarkable—then you will have a basis in which to factually rebut what I’ve said about your city. You can call me ugly, you can claim that I’m a gay virgin misogynist who can’t get laid, but you can’t invent your own facts out of thin air.
And the fact is is that Portland is a town full of smelly hobos, poorly-dressed fat chicks, and socially retarded creeps.
I still love this city, in spite of its less-illustrious element inveighing against me. Given that most of them are gutless turds who couldn’t even deign to look me in the eye if they saw me on the street, I’m not worried about them pulling anything. I’m not leaving Portland until I feel like it.
Scoreboard: Matt Forney, one; angry Portland feminist fatasses, zero.
Come and get me.
NOTE: As of this writing, Return of Kings is offline, potentially due to a DDoS attack or some other kind of sabotage. Click here for evidence suggesting that the site’s been sabotaged. Also, a reminder: my article is protected by the First Amendment, but DDoSing a website is a federal crime.
UPDATE: Portlanders are taking this to a new level of creepy; they’re posting my cell phone number online in an attempt to stalk me. Joke’s on them, though; I got rid of that number months ago. I’ve screencapped that Twitter account in case the owner decides to delete it in a fit of shame. They also posted my number to Reddit Portland; screencaps here and here.
UPDATE II: Man, the Portlanders are seriously butthurt; I just stopped a DDoS attack on this blog. Someone was trying to brute force hack the password to my admin dashboard using a server based in Los Angeles. I banned the IPs that were accessing my login screen and the attack mysteriously stopped. Return of Kings was also getting DDoSed at the same time; when I fixed the problem here, that site started working again too.