The Origins of Burro Misandry

When David wrote a post about the pressing issue of burro misandry, of course the first question on the feminist hivemind was “What are the historic origins of this oppressive system?”

Luckily, Tulgey Logger was there to explain it to us:

David, thank you for bringing to light the often overlooked issue of Burro Misandry. Burro Misandry has a long, dark history: its earliest incarnation goes back to the fourteenth century, when the French philosopher Jean Buridan famously starved a (male) ass by placing it between two equidistant, and in all other ways equivalent, piles of sweet, delicious hay. Unable to choose, the poor ass starved to death, the first victim among many of feminism’s war on men and boys. Unsurprisingly, Buridan arranged this scenario in order to prove the antiquated theories of the mangina philosopher Aristotle (a distant ancestor of Valerie Solanas) as expressed in his “de Caelo,” in which the white knighting ALPHA FUCK himself posited that a man placed directly between food and water would be stricken with indecision and thereby starve to death. Though feminazis and manginas have been attempting to destroy men and boys through a similar mechanism ever since, their inferior ladybrains/mangina softheads

Postus interruptus!  But Tulgey continues:

…never did grasp the fact that the male brain is perfectly capable of understanding that he will die of dehydration long before he starves, and so naturally take the water first.

Also, I must protest the “post comment” button, David. It made me post before I was done, thus embarrassing me, a man. It is therefore a misandrist button and should be either removed or placed on register-that-button.com as a bigot.

These burros are wondering what “misandry” is

Burros are cute.  You know what else is cute?  Cats.  I want this to be a real video game:

Nasal Victory!

A MRA named Mark Jones claimed he could “smell the fear in the hearts of manboobers [sic] as the mainstream media gives more and more attention to MRAs and paints feminists as a bunch of shrill unhinged lunatics.”

“They might call feminists shrill?!!??!?”

Luckily, Fibinachi is here to tell us how the manosphere is able to smell the fear in our hearts:

Smiling to himself, Jonesy Markson clicked the link. Things loaded, wires buzzing with information as monochrome blips filtered across the screen as the smoke from his cigarette curled lazily into the air. This was the life. This was it, the pay off to these many years of toil and turmoil. One machine, one video, one test and his pre-emptive victory cigarette. He huffed his brand of SmugSticks, inhaling the heady mixture of nicotine, confirmation bias and denial. The steady whoop of the fan above him his only company. This wasn’t a time for other people, this was his moment, this was his victory parade. Sure, many months – years – lay ahead of him, but tonight? Tonight was the night everything changed.

He moved the cursor across the screen. Careful, careful… There. One last drag on the cigarette, one final rush of self-satisfied moral superiority. He blew out a ring of cloying patronization, which expanded across the room as swiftly as his goalposts.

That was the cigarette. Now for business. The next ten minutes will would tell whether or whether not his machine worked, his ultimate plan came true or if his unassailable sense of righteousness had actually led him astray.

He clicked.

Somewhere in the dark, a little machine went “BLOING”.

A video played. Figures, dancing across the screen. Their suits the only point of colour in an otherwise black and white world.

Their words? Their journalism, the hard hitting, straight shooting inside story was just the thing. A word was cut out as another thing went BLOING BONK.

And then it began in earnest, a rapturous cacophonous roar of noise, drowning out the rest of the video. A cut to a studio, chittering, chuttering noises from all around him and then finally… fade to black. Sudden silence. A silence interrupted by the whooping of the fan, and… something else. A different sensation. His greatest invention, releasing its payload.

Something oozed into the tiny black and white world.

Something… beautiful.

Wafting towards his noise, the unmistakable smell of fear. Smelled like… victory.

The smell of victory

It worked. The Smell-O-Meter worked. This was the greatest, most effluent victory of the mind of man over its detractors, the true mark of a champion of movements.

A grand victory not only of MORALS, MATTER or MINDS…

But of noses.

A grand victory of SCARY noses.

Typical Medieval Feminist Plaque

I’m going on vacation tomorrow, back in mid-May, so I thought I’d leave you all with one little gem from lowquacks.

David took note of a pretty hilarious comment Mark Minter made on manospherian shitlord Roosh V’s blog, where he talked about returning to the US and spending his time either at home on the internet, or going to the market in the middle of the night. Dude knows how to party! Anyway, we of course had fun mocking him.

So then Minter dropped a 2,500-word turdbomb of a comment — on the wrong thread — daring David to “publish” it. Which of course he did, because HILARIOUS.

A couple of people noticed what seemed to be a typo in a sentence about Western Europe:

The plaque killed 25-30% in the 1300s.

CassandraSays:

You know when you were a kid and your mom would tell you to brush your teeth? She wasn’t nagging you, she was just worried that the plaque might kill you, like it killed 25-30% of Europeans in ye olde days. Poor dental hygiene is the greatest health threat mankind has ever known.

Kittehserf:

The Black Plaque!

The Great Plaque of London!

Plaque-bearing rats! (Well no wonder, you ever tried brushing a rat’s teeth?)

But lowquacks set us right:

Guys, guys, let’s not be silly here. Minty was obviously referring to deaths which happened to people standing under poorly-fastened heavy plaques – architecture and safety regulations weren’t what they are today.

CassandraSays agrees, and notices the feminist role in these deaths:

Feminists hang plaques for the express purpose of killing men foolish enough to stand under one because some privileged princess asks them to. And then we steal their toothbrushes, just in case the first kind of plaque isn’t deadly enough.

lowquacks provides even more evidence, in the form of an actual Medieval feminist plaque!

A typical Medieval feminist plaque. These killed over a quarter of the population in some areas, because women can’t use tools properly.

Transcription, for those who have a hard time with Fraktur:

Here Lieth Menne’s Dignitee

Unknowne – A.D. 1246

SLAIN on the Pike of Feminisme

LOL

The Little Mermaid’s Gender-Neutral Pronouns 101

Longtime Man Boobz troll NWOSlave had a bit of a problem with gender-neutral pronouns, calling people who use them “zie creatures.”

Polliwog offers some lyrical advice:

You can use “zie”!
You can use “zie”!
Darling, remember
It’s a third gender
Unlike “he” or “she”!
The boys and the girls might be the norm,
But some folks know they just don’t conform
To that binary -
It isn’t scary -
They just use “zie”!

*plays gender-neutral crab-bongos*

And, speaking of The Little Mermaid…

Awesomeness From a Non-Manboobzer

A bunch of manboobzers posted this video by animator/illustrator Scott Benson:

The music is “Tiger Rag and Jubilee Stomp” by Duke Ellington, which you can find here.

Benson also wrote a tumblr post that is very much worth reading, in which he describes an experience we manboobzers know so well:

And really, arguing with misogynists, men who primarily see women as alternately parasites/ fascists / whores, and dudes who spend their waking hours trying to unlock the intricacies of using women for sex holds about as much interest to me as arguing with a racist or a homophobe. While pushing my face slowly into a belt sander. And being menaced by lions full of wasps. On a humid day.

Kudos to Benson for a fantastic video. Check out his other videos (also awesome) on Vimeo here.

Would you like some cake?

Commenting on a Man Boobz post about the Norwegian MRA Eivind Berge, NWOSlave was blathering on about how women’s sexuality is a resource, by which he probably meant something to be extracted, sold, and eventually depleted at great cost to humanity.  (Actually, it’s interesting, because most people view resources as things to be exploited, but NWOSlave believed that women use their special resource to exploit other people.  Sort of the way that Guatemala used its bananas to exploit the United States! Ah, the mind of NWOSlave…)  Anyway, that thought segued seamlessly in Owly’s brain into how terrible it was for women to ridicule misogynists who try to insult random women by saying they wouldn’t have sex with them.

Polliwog tries to clarify things:

Context matters, dude. If my boyfriend, whom I want to fuck, tells me, “I would never fuck you,” I would be sad and hurt. (Also, y’know, kind of confused at this point.) If some complete stranger in whom I have no interest tells me, “I would never fuck you,” I think, “…that’s nice?” It is not particularly effective to insult people by saying, “OH YEAH WELL I WON’T GIVE YOU THINGS YOU DON’T WANT.” It is downright sad to attempt to insult them by saying you’ll withhold things they not only don’t want but which you have solid reason to expect they would actively refuse if they were offered. Would you be deeply insulted if a man you’d never met told you that you weren’t invited to his birthday party? How about if he stomped around yelling about how he had a cake entirely made of human feces and you didn’t get to eat ANY of it? Because, see, “oh no, I don’t get to eat feces” is pretty much how most of us feel about “oh no, the misogynist troll doesn’t want to have probably-rapey sex with me.”

Just your standard, garden variety poopcake

CassandraSays makes an interesting point about a feces cake vs. sex with misogynists:

Honestly, I might prefer the cake. Disgusting as the idea is, it’s probably less likely to lead to a. physical injury and b. long-term psychological trauma.

Also if I changed my mind in the middle of eating the cake I would be able to leave.

Poopcake with extra poop

Polliwog concedes the point, and makes a different cake:

Yeah, the analogy would probably be better if the cake were made of, like, feces, razorblades, explosives, gonorrhea, and bees. And you were allergic to bees.

Poopcake with flies standing in for the bees

CassandraSays contributes to the recipe:

And the bees were special killer bees that carried enough radiation to give you cancer.

Poopcake with radioactive hats

kirbywarp puts on his chef’s hat:

And the gonorrhea was special gonorrhea that acted as a carrier for more gonorrhea.

Poopcake enhanced with recursive gonorrhea

CassandraSays ices that cake:

Also the cake would have to call you a whore while you were eating it.

Wut

Well, I never…

Two and a Half Men co-creator Lee Aronsohn defended his show’s tendency to portray women negatively by arguing that women “damage” men. After all, he said, “I never got my heart broken by a man.”

Unassailable logic!

Kyrie assails it!

I’ve never had my heart broken by a toothbrush. Either they are the most remarkable thing on Earth or they didn’t have the occasion because I never was in love or even in a relationship with one.

I’ve never been lied to by the king of Morroco!

I’ve never been betrayed by people living in Taïwan!

I’ve never been disinherited by my neighbor!

I’ve never been insulted by a mouse!

I’ve never been hit by my teachers!

Well stop with that shaming talk.  If you’ve never had your heart broken by a toothbrush, it’s just because you’ve never met the right toothbrush! Once that happens, you too will write anti-toothbrush plot lines for terrible sitcoms.

I will never forget how you crushed my spirit, you sexy, sexy toothbrush

The title of this post makes me think it’s a good idea to put this here: