What is it about the Internet that makes people talk like autistic parrots?
I was the guy who claimed that 2013 would be the Year the Manosphere Broke, but even then, I wasn’t willing to turn my back on the whole thing. Until now. You can tell when a culture has passed its apogee when it’s invaded by dweebazoids who can’t express an idea without using some private language of chirps and caws that is incomprehensible to the outside observer. We made fun of the seduction community for inventing a dorky argot of “HB8s,” “neg hits” and “DHVs,” only to let people in who made up an equallyretarded language of their own.
It’s a good goddamn thing I was around before the manosphere even existed, because if I came across it today, I’d be like “Who the fuck ARE these weirdos?”
It’s here, ladies and gentlemen. The most misunderstood and reviled book I’ve published to date has gotten a huge facelift. Beyond the kickass new cover art you see above (created by my friend Matt over at Unlucky Devil), I’ve also added two new essays to the book (my review of Roosh’s A Dead Bat in Paraguay and “Favorite Gym Characters: Bakken Oil Field Edition“) and completely redesigned the interior of the paperback edition to look nicer and save space (the new edition of Trolling is ten pages shorter than the old one). For owners of the old Kindle edition, I’ve notified Amazon about the changes and you’ll be able to download the new edition shortly; Nook and Smashwords customers should be able to get the new edition by just re-downloading from the website. (Kobo users, see my note at the end of the post.)
Not only that, if you buy (or have bought) any edition of Trolling for a Living and leave a review on Amazon, you’re eligible to win a free book!
Most everyone in the manosphere was surprised by ABC’s sudden hit piece on us the other day, paired with a 20/20 episode that will air tonight. You’ll notice that I haven’t been commenting on it like other folks. There’s a reason for this.
I was one of the interview subjects for the 20/20 story.
Inner game is a frustrating topic to write about because it is a frustrating topic to talk about and a frustrating topic to learn about. Inner game, that mystical beast that we have all heard about, but most people don’t really understand. Inner game, the unicorn of game culture.
Camp One says, “Fuck inner game. Just smash bishes. It’ll work itself out.”
Camp Two says, “Fuck outer game. Just learn the ancient art of not giving a fuck and say whatever shit comes into your head and you’ll get laid.”
Great men of the past daring and bold, Great men made from a superior mold: Warriors fighting on harsh field of war, Thinkers changing all that was thought before, Lovers making ladies come back for me; Inspire and strengthen me in this Age Filling me with a fierce hatred and rage For all its victims and their special “rights,” A disgusting spectacle of such heights No court jester could have devised A comedy of laughs this highly prized. Continue reading →
A couple days ago, amid all the manospambots wailing and gnashing over the fall of one of their paper alphas, a man who has exerted an enormous influence on all of us—so enormous that most don’t even notice him, in the same way that most people don’t notice the air they breathe—hung up his spurs and went home. Rob Fedders, one of the most important progenitors of the manosphere, is no more:
It was a good death.
It’s better to burn out than fade away!
He is survived by no-one as he was a free man who never married and had no children.
In Rob’s last will and testament he requested that in lieu of flowers, you give women the husbands they deserve: None!
This post stands a good chance of wiping out my readership. I don’t care. I’ve turned my guns on my own readers so often over the years I’m shocked that I have any left.
The manoblogs are all a-twitter with righteous outrage. Mark Minter is a fraud! A liar! A hypocrite! How could a guy who railed against marriage, called it an institution for “pussies,” go back on his words? With a single mother no doubt? Why did he lie about the fact that he’s a penniless bum who’s been living with his sister for the past few years?
Last week, I was interviewed by a major news outlet who is working on a story about the manosphere. It went better than I expected, but midway through, the reporter asked me about the level of “hatred” and “vitriol” in the manosphere and what I think of it. My answer ran along the lines of the Private Man’s recent arguments that masculine anger is a necessary and transitional aspect of the manosphere; men who have been screwed over in more ways than one over the course of their lives have every right to be angry, and that with the exception of the MRA/MGTOW permavirgins, men get over their anger eventually and move on.
But from a more practical standpoint, what do men have to lose from being angry and confrontational?
I sat at the travel agentʼs desk. It was the third and final time I would need to see him before I left for a solo trip through America. I built a rapport with him after I learned he too was a skateboarder. He mentioned some cheap plane tickets to Hong Kong that he acquired for himself and a friend.
Me: Cool, you gonna bring your board? I heard Hong Kong has a solid nightlife too.
Travel Agent: Nah, only going for 10 days, thereʼs meant to be some really good food in Hong Kong though, food is a big deal to me.
I posted this over at Roosh’s forum a few days ago, but I thought it was too good to let languish there, so I’m republishing it here. Enjoy! (Click here for the post’s inspiration.)
I awoke with a pounding headache, last night’s drunken revelry calling my body’s tab. I drowsily smacked the Snooze button on my alarm clock, pulled the crusty sock off of my post-slumber erection, and groggily trudged over to the bathroom to prepare for my shift at Starbucks.