Matt Forney
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Anatomy of a Hater

Mojo asked me an interesting question last week:

Matt, serious question:

How do you get so many haters?

I really want more haters, so I can add their insane ramblings to my ‘reviews’ column. But I seem to only ever get friendly comments. What is it, specifically, that you do to generate such hate?

From what I can tell, having good haters requires two crucial ingredients:

  1. Tell the truth.
  2. Be an awesome individual.

The first is self-explanatory, and pretty much everyone in the manosphere hits this note by default. All prophets begin as pariahs, and few if any live to see the fruits of their labor. Jesus was crucified because he dared to denounce the degeneracy and decadence of his society. Galileo was persecuted by the Church because his scientific inquiries dealt a death blow to the prevailing theology of the times. Men like ourselves are loathed by feminists and white knights because we wield a bastard sword of truth about human nature that slices their lies to ribbons.

The second is a bit trickier.

The manospherian with the most psychotic and dedicated haters is Roosh. A big part of why is because of the sheer size of his audience, but it’s also because he’s one of the few who is (relatively) open about his identity. The evidence of his cool lifestyle—being ripped, traveling to foreign countries, banging hot women, and making a living off of his writing—is irrefutable. By any objective measure, Roosh is the kind of man most guys want to be. Krauser is another manospherian who collects a lot of stalkers because he posts videos of the girls he lays.

I’m honestly not trying to turn this into another one of my “I write under my real name, therefore I’m better than you” screeds, but the plain simple truth is that being anonymous limits your haters. I have no doubt that the top manosphere bloggers are cool guys, because their writing has verisimilitudeit conveys truth and honesty unconsciously. Fakers and frauds can only front for a certain amount of time before the mask slips. For example, I didn’t have to meet FFY in person to know he was a true player.

But the veil of anonymity stymies the worst haters because it doesn’t give them anything to grab onto.

Danger & Play described the nature of haters recently:

Here is what you have to understand about haters: They have nothing going on in their lives. Really. Haters aren’t getting laid. They aren’t moving forward in life.

Nietzsche got it right. The stupid envy the intelligent, the ugly loathe the beautiful, and the weak despise the strong. Haters hate because they’re weak. They’re pathetic, self-loathing pieces of shit and they know it. Rather than build themselves up, they seek out people who are smarter, stronger and/or more beautiful they are and try to tear them down. Hating on their spiritual superiors makes them feel better about their failed lives.

It’s the textbook definition of ressentiment.

Because I’m open about my identity, I get angrier and more deranged haters than the average manospherian. I haven’t achieved my goals of being ripped and accomplished yet, but I’m working on them, a crucial step most people can’t even take. I’m doing something epic and incredible that few have the balls to attempt. If you think I’m just a fat bum with delusions of grandeur, I ask you a legit question: what do YOU think I should be doing? I mean, since you’re so much cooler than I am, clearly you can point me in the right direction.

Ask a hater a question like that, and you’ll get silence, because haters have no ideas and accomplishments of their own; if they did, they wouldn’t feel the need to shit on everyone else’s.

Last week, while I was swatting down attempts by one of my more annoying haters to defecate all over my blog, I decided to have a little fun and find out who this individual who spends so much time trying to tear me down happens to be. Two minutes of Googling and I had this guy’s real name, home address, phone number, place of employment and alma mater. I also found out that “he” was a female-to-male transsexual.

In other words, the “guy” who’s calling me a fat loser is so fucked up mentally “he” decided to have testosterone injections to turn his clit into a cock.

That’s the archetypal hater: a lifelong fuckup. A thirtysomething lawyergrrl with the personality of a sea slug and a burning case of baby rabies. A castrated cubicle worker in thrall to his Michelin Man-sized wife. A sick woman who gets a double mastectomy because she thinks she’s a man trapped in a woman’s body. A 300-pound momma’s boy playing video games in his parents’ basement.

They’re oxygen thieves with nothing to offer the world.

It’s quite telling that the guys who actually do have interesting, enviable lives, like Roosh, the Danger & Play admin and the other leading lights of the manosphere, are rooting for me. People who are happy and contented don’t leave hater comments on other peoples’ blogs; they’re too busy improving themselves and helping like-minded friends do the same. It’s only the failures, the losers, the untermenschen who are consumed with hate.

So the next time someone shits out a comment on your blog about how you’re a GAY! VIRGIN! TINY-DICKED! MISOGYNIST!, just visualize this image of them:

Chances are, you won’t be far off the mark.

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