(Another) Male Feminist Arrested

Over on Dalrock, there’s a participant named ‘Anon’ who often points out the correlation between male feminists and scroungy behavior. This phenomenon is undertheorized.

ug_z60RKOne can see examples such as Hugo Schwyzer, the famous wimminz studies professor who made a career out of desperately groping and assaulting his hot female students. Schwyzer was well-known as a guy who traded on shock value and cheap theatrics, at one point sadly confessing that he had attempted to murder an ex-girlfriend (he was probably lying, but who knows?) (link). On another occasion, Schwyzer advocated men give up normal sexual intercourse, in favor of allowing their female partners to don a strap-on dildo and “peg” them with it. (link)

Screen Shot 2017-06-30 at 13.20.13As though anyone needed another illustration, we have this creature. While not as well-known as Schwyzer, our feminist hero appears to be cut from similar cloth, making a name for himself with outrageous internet theatrics condemning normal couples for doing normal stuff, all while behaving privately like a total degenerate.

Thirty-two-year-old Christopher John Goldberg, who went by the name “Amir0x” on social media, was a male feminist who often took to Twitter to express his hatred at “sexists” and Trump supporters, in vocal support of the Women’s March. He was active during the GamerGate debacle that took the gaming world by storm in 2014, taking the side of feminists.

The Tobyhanna, Penn. man was charged this Wednesday with 64 counts of child porn possession and one count of criminally using a computer to download the illicit materials. Goldberg told police that he believed the pictures were not illegal if they didn’t depict sexual acts, but the police didn’t buy his excuse and issued the charges against him.

Props to Age of Shitlords (link) for this summary. One can also read more at Pocono Record (link).

Where Do Babies Come From?

NOTE: This hastily written nonsense contains serious clickbait inaccuracies, that are nobody’s fault but mine. It remains up as a reminder to not believe everything you read (whether it’s ya boy Boxer or CNN who writes it). Credit to Richard P. for fact checking. A full retraction is contained (here).

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Ariana Gonzalez, a skank-ho single mom, with two children, each by different fathers, is blaming the lack of an abortion clinic for her pregnancies. Teenage skanks are apparently ignorant of the simple facts of life… like one’s unwanted pregnancy being caused by her own irresponsible sexual behavior.

I found this story on CNN. I am going to link to it, because it accomplishes a number of different things. In the first place, it illustrates the entitled stupidity of contemporary females, and in the second, it is a good example of the wild spin on such propaganda emanating from the corporate media.

Before Planned Parenthood opened in the Imperial Valley two years ago, she became pregnant when she didn’t want to, and then later she couldn’t get pregnant when she did want to.

Read more (here)

Seduction 101

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Somewhere over the rainbow, a starry-eyed romantic writes…

My purpose for dating was for us to get to know each other, seek an emotional connection, build on that connection, leading to love, and finally marriage. Sex being only part of marriage, and not the most important part.

This sort of sentiment, plucked out of a 19th century novel, would be cute if it weren’t so dangerous. It’s also a mystery to behold a man, who has been exposed to 30 years of pop culture, which tells him in every song, theatrical performance, and Hollywood crap film, what the score is, yet he stubbornly continues in his delusions.

Let’s get this out of the way. Dating is not about meeting a nice girl for a soda after the dance. Dating is about having sex.

Before the date is the meeting. You meet women every day, in nearly every scenario. I have only a couple of rules restricting the domain of all the women I meet to women who I can have sex with. I don’t date (i.e. have sex with) anyone I work with. I teach, so I don’t have sex with other teachers at my institution, and I don’t have sex with any of my students. I also don’t have sex with chicks who are obviously married. Of course, I’ve probably had lots of sex with married chicks, but if I did, the ho’s hid their status well enough to fool me.

That’s it. Every woman I meet, in every other context, is fair game.

When I was younger, I used to go out clubbing to pick up women, but I always noted that there were gifts that just dropped into my lap in other contexts. At some point, without consciously planning it, I just started maximizing the productivity of these chance encounters. I’m at the point now that I often go months without going out to find cunt. I also don’t have active profiles on the dating sites.

I’ve had sex with women I met in the aisle at the grocery store. I’ve had sex with women I met in the laundromat (a surprisingly productive place to find sex partners, weirdly enough.) I’ve had sex with women I met in the waiting room at the dentist’s office.

You meet women every day, same as me. If a woman is talking to you, she’s likely down to fuck you.

The Meeting

We go through life interacting with people. Endless opportunities open up, even for dorky introverts like me. People are so shitty, these days, that just being a decent person is enough to make many women interested in you. About ten percent of the dates I go on are initiated by the woman, who invites me out. I instinctively respond with “are you buying?” If she balks or even hesitates, I know she’s fucking with me, and the date would have gone nowhere. Take such propositions as the jokes that they are. If she responds in the affirmative, you’re basically guaranteed sex if you want it.

The other ninety percent of dates I go on are dates that I initiate.

There is a certain look that women get in their faces when they want to fuck me. It’s very difficult to properly communicate exactly what this entails. I can only say that it’s nothing like any look that your mother ever gave you. Their eyes squint slightly as they smile, and these ho’s almost have a predatory look in their eyes. This look means they are down for whatever — including a quickie in the nearest public toilet. Making this face means you’re basically guaranteed sex if you want it.

If it’s convenient, and your standards are low enough, you can usually get sex in the nearest public toilet with such women. These ho’s are scandalous.

The Date

Repeat the mantra: dating is about sex. The only reason you are taking a woman out is to see if she qualifies to host your cock in one of her holes. That’s it.

About half the time I invite a ho’ to “meet for coffee”. The date proceeds exactly as I described, with no deviation. I bring stuff to read and work on, and show up at the coffee shop a half hour before the date is scheduled to begin.

Exactly three minutes after the specified time, if the ho’ isn’t there, I leave. This is not infrequent. I ignore the excuses these bitches send me via voicemail and text message. If a ho’ wanted to meet me, she would have been punctual.

When she does show up, I already have my coffee, and I’m working. I let her compete with my laptop for my attention. This gives the ho’ the illusion that I’m someone important (ho’s like to think they can land someone who has other interests) and inspires her to work a bit for my affection.

The other half of the time, I invite the ho’ to eat. I only do this when I would have gone out to eat on my own, anyway. I never invite a ho’ for anything fancier than a 20 dollar plate at a mom and pop restaurant, and I make the destination clear up front.

Now that this is out of the way, you have your date at your table, and you should be in the proper frame of mind to screen for nutcases. I can’t tell you what your own “fitness tests” should consist of, but I can share some of mine.

  • Get her talking about her family. If she talks shit about her mother or father, or is overly disrespectful to anyone else, I eject.
  • I eject if the ho’ is rude or condescending to the wait staff.
  • I eject if the ho’ is loud, curses in public, or is just overly coarse.

Your shit-tests will be based on your own whims and hangups, and they won’t necessarily intersect with mine. If you have screened your date well, you probably won’t have to eject before sex. Even so, it does happen.

I recently had a wall-hitting attorney across the table from me (i.e. someone who makes money stealing from better people). She made a big production of sneering at the waitress. It was amazing to see a human parasite look down her nose at a much hotter woman, who is working a productive job.

I pointed as much out to the ho’, before I beat feet out of Applebees and left her to pay her own bill. I tipped the waitress twenty dollars on the way out the door, and asked her to say good-bye to the ho’ for me. The look on her face was priceless.

Sex

I consider it a structural advantage to invite wimminz to my house. Again, this is my preference, which may or may not coincide with anyone else’s. When I’m at my house, I know where everything is. It also leaves no ambiguity in the ho’s mind as to what the next step is. If she comes to my house, she’s getting fucked, and if she doesn’t like that, then she can get the hell out.

I have a futon that I fuck women on. I roll it out on my living room floor. It does a number on bitches to tell them that my bedroom is off-limits.

The bedroom is for girlfriends, you’re just a common slut.

It also keeps the bitch from nesting, with the idea that she’s going to be spending the night snoring in my ear. I like to sleep alone.

That’s all, folks

In conclusion, I’d advise ignoring both incels and tradcons who bemoan the state of the sexual marketplace. It’s strange to note that the whiners on sites like Dalrock are functionally identical to the ones on Omega Virgin Revolt. All of them are wrong. Sex is easy to get. I’m a broke-ass schoolteacher with a pinky sized penis, and I seem to be able to win at this game on a consistent basis. You can too, once you know the rules.

The Legend of Everyho’

…as told by Anonymous on /pol/

zoeThis is [name removed], your typical millennial woman, who will be 30-years old next year. At 18, she found that she was suddenly treated like God’s gift to the world. Everyone laughed at her jokes, and followed her social media feeds. People hung on her every word. Doors were held, drinks bought, and space made for her.

But then, as she entered her late 20’s, things began to change. Her youth began to fade, and with it went the attention, the social priority, the sense of value. Desperately, she clung to what remained, resenting younger women and the men whose glances, little by little, stopped falling upon her. Like many women of her generation, she had no boyfriend and was childless. So, she doubled down, and tried to maintain the carefree party that is being a 20-something girl in a big city.

But she’s almost 30 now, and the drinks and the nights out aren’t quite as exciting as they once were, so she nods off early. One by one, her BFFs got off the subway, so now she rides alone. Her tinder date never showed up, so she just got a pizza to share with herself, and like her gradually fading youth, it’s slowly slipping away. While it hasn’t quite touched the floor yet, still separated by some wax paper, an onlooker is forced to ask: “Is any of this actually worth saving?”

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Levels of Reality in Literature

Over on Dalrock, I’m getting some heat about my allegiance to what the brainiacs would call the S-Structure in literature. For example: Richard P writes:

Of all folks who populate this corner, Boxer has surprised me the most with immediately going to the Old English of the King James instead of the original words in the original languages in the original cultures.

Not to be outdone, Swanny River writes:

You brought out a side of Boxer I don’t remember seeing. You seem similar to Art Toad or Dasgamer and Boxer was defending one or both of their logical validity and sourcing, but not so you. If you care to say Boxer, and if my summation is agreeable, could you say why the more rough handling of Derek?

Most linguists and philosophers of language agree that there are two (or more) grammatical structures at play whenever we communicate. The guy who wrote the definitive text on this, in the beginning, was Gottlob Frege, back in 1891. I believe (and it has been a good long while since I’ve read him) that his example in Sense and Reference was ‘the morning star’ and ‘the evening star’.

If I were to speak those two noun-phrases in succession, the listener would realize instantly that both of them had the same referent: the planet Venus. Even so, they are two different senses of the same thing. The first one is Venus when we see it at sunrise, and the second is Venus at night.

The next big name who tried to come along and unify this strange dichotomy was Bertrand Russell. Uncle Bert was big on uncovering the grammatical nature of truth claims, so he unified Frege’s ambiguity, but in the process, he created one of his own, by differentiating between language and metalanguage. Russell was into logicism, and so we’ve got an S-Structure when I speak a sentence, and we’ve got a D-Structure underlying it, that is written in unambiguous logical language.

S and D stand for ‘Surface’ and ‘Deep’, respectively.

This was not the end of the story. Saul Kripke overturned Russell, and he was himself overturned by guys like Quine and Field and Chomsky. No matter the argument, there will always be a difference between the words we use when we say something, and the meaning we express with them.

And so the nice Christian gents find themselves on Dalrock, arguing with the Southern Baptists, who have recently re-written the Bible, to make the words of great philosophers like Rabbi Saul of Tarsus seem like they were endorsing gay marriage and dyke priests. This in itself is irksome to many Christian dudes, who have grown up with a particular conception of God, which doesn’t include him being a weird purple-haired tranny, the likes we would find in a dive bar in San Francisco.

Of course, the baptists will excuse their changes by citing the D-Structure. The original word for God in the Greek, they’ll tell us, is properly translated into the word “trans-sexual weirdo.”

The problem with all this from my perspective is that, even if it were true, it still doesn’t matter. Christian guys in 20th century America grew up with the King James Version. That’s a book written in plain English. Moreover, this book, written in English, has already proven itself worthwhile.

It doesn’t matter if one discovers the English differs from the original Greek. Hell, it doesn’t matter if the English is not technically true. Someone could come along with conclusive historical evidence that there was a historical Jesus, and he was a flaming homosexual, or that he was a militant feminist, or that he was a bull dyke. There is, in fact, no evidence that any such person as Jesus ever existed at all. That’s all irrelevant. The Christian dudes in contemporary America aren’t reading the bible as history (even if they claim to believe in its historicity). They’re reading it as a manual for the self-organization of their society.

Jesus and Moses are, in fact, a lot like the numbers five and ten. Guys like Hartry Field will tell us that numbers don’t exist. This is hard to argue with. If the number five existed, someone would have to tell us where it is located, what color it is, etc.

Hardcore students of semantics will often argue, then, that mathematical statements like ‘five plus three equals eight’ are not true. Five, three and eight do not refer to anything, and thus they can’t have a truth value at all.

These are, of course, interesting little debates; but, to guys who merely want to solve problems, none of it matters. The bible is full of stories that are quite useful… same as your real analysis textbook. These things may be fictions, but they help real people solve real problems in the real world.

The Southern Baptists have a con-job that’s only a little way removed from this. They are telling you that five isn’t really five, it’s actually eight. And ten isn’t really ten, it’s actually thirteen. In fact, all those numbers you learned, they’re actually three units less than their “true” values.

Of course, one could make all these changes, and all the familiar arithmetic he learned would still work perfectly. That’s not the point, claim the Baptists. The point is that you need to buy all new books (from the Baptists, coincidentally) and give us yet more money. We have the way, the truth and the light.

Trolling The Edges

Everyone needs to visit The Edges, a blog authored by a fake Christian named Timothy Willard, for some truly bizarre displays of masochism. Note: Tim would like you to know that he has a Ph.D. (fuck’n lol).

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His most recent article is entitled “Fighting for My Wife,” (link) and contains a bizarre, sappy, creepy sort of “love dare.”

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Naturally, y’r boy Boxer couldn’t help but leave a few choice comments…

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The other comments range from silly to creepy to bitter.

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Amy Denton sounds like a prize catch of a wimminz, doesn’t she? Make sure to marry a nice Christian girl, fellas. That’s surely the way to go.

Not to be outdone, Christian scholar Laurie appears to school us on the definition of “Biblical marriage.”

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Biblical scholar Jennifer McCoy appears suddenly, scolding those of us naysayers who may not be taking the original article seriously.

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And, naturally, there are plenty of white knights, jumping in to defend m’lady, in the hopes of getting a sniff at some whore’s crusty old butthole…

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Truly, a good time is being had by all. Stop on by, and tell them Herbie Marcuse sent you!

Note: Props to Oscar, part of the award winning Dalrock research team, for finding this nonsense. Visit the discussion on Herr Doktor Willard’s bizarre article (here). Visit Oscar’s blog (here).