I am not in the least bit homophobic, but if Hannibal Barca ever takes refuge in the loving arms of David Futrelle, I might have to reconsider. I will spare you any attempts to construct a visual. I’m heartless at times, but not sadistic.
After watching this video made by our own JtO, which pointedly addresses Barca’s “work,” I was left with some lingering questions.
One, if Barca and Futrelle took their shirts off and kissed, would it be lesbian porn? Sorry, I should have issued a trigger warning.
On a more serious note, though (and less nauseating), I really do have questions about, and directed to, the building opposition to the men’s rights movement. Fittingly, the primary questions is, are you serious about doing battle with MRA’s?
Are. You. Fucking. Serious?
If so, you are in deep shit.
Let’s consider all the recent attempts out there to discredit us, and especially how lame they are. I know, that’s ableist of me, but hey, I’m feeling dangerous.
First the SPLC portrays a bunch of unconnected, often oppositional websites as cohesive parts of growing hate movement, ready to endanger womankind at every turn. They attacked us (unaware that there isn’t an “us”) with devastating and pinpoint accuracy (grading on the feminist curve) at all of our weakest points.
In one surgical strike, they lambasted Roosh because he may not call a woman back after sex if he isn’t impressed.
Hateful. Hateful.
They skewered this website for the horrible practice of having a category called “feminist lies,” and for posting already public information about known criminals and bigots. They dealt a devastating blow to the False Rape Society for aggregating news stories.
Down the list of 12 websites they went, punching away. Pow, pow! Biff, Bam! Stan Lee is somewhere smiling.
Then Muffpo comes out with even more pressure, targeting me and this website with crippling commentary, like asserting that The Innocence Project was born of the MRM, and criticizing anti-feminists for not wanting to swap spit with feminists.
Man, they got the goods on us, don’t they? De-va-state-ing.
This is them at their Sunday, rockin’ sockin’ best; the feminist assault wave we have anticipated and feared for years. It’s their storm troopers, and they are all spit-shine and polished brass.
That brings us back to the cellulite twins, and just in time. For what are the feminists left with when you take away the crack units like SPLC and Muffpo? Well, the answer is degenerate circus clowns like David Futrelle and his equally bovine counterpart, Hannibal Barca.
These are two individuals whose specialty, other than apparently downing copious amounts of Ben and Jerry’s Patriarchy Chunk ice cream on a daily basis, is mining for minority voices on the fringe of the MRM, and conflating them with out of context quotes from actual MRA’s, twisted into the desired form. But they don’t even do that with enough gusto to burn a few calories.
We have long quoted Gandhi around here. “First they ignore, you. Then they laugh at you. Then they fight you. Then you win.”
What I don’t think many of us counted on is that the people they sent to fight would be such insufferable morons. I mean, really, 50 years of dominance in media, academe and government, and the best they can do is send us a ragtag bunch of intellectually crippled ne’re-do-wells who are also waddling on the path of Mamma Cass?
We are gearing things up around here. The world is catching on. You can tell they have noticed by the fact that some of them now seem to have a pulse. But the blood still isn’t reaching their brains. Really folks, this isn’t even sporting.
As you will see here, though, we can still have some fun with it.
