Pool party in LA. And of course now says the podcast writer to the bearded man with antler tattoos who gives a 6/10 to the Steampunk Cafe, you have these alt right incels. Involuntary celibate, they’re racists from the manosphere and they’re on these message boards. I have to say something. But what. Do I support the incels? I guess I’m against them. But I get where they’re coming from. Is that illegal. I just don’t want to be rude. Don’t want to fuck up the whole party which is six people, and there’s already an issue with my going on at length about types of Japanese prostitutes. Well (slave name) you sure do know a lot about prostitutes, titter titter.
Someone recovers it when I mention traveling for work. They can shoehorn in and what is is that you do exactly and we’re back in safe work job money. Except I can’t let it go there. This is the one party I’ll be at in 2018 with girls. Can’t be Johnny Dayjob here. Have to be a menacing cult sex author who gets fan letters from Gabon. Can’t talk about both lives to the same people.
I say some vague thing about the general industry I work in and bees cover me humming what do you do in that field exactly, how much are you paid, what is your rank. People can’t understand not wanting to talk about work. They’re like the Westworld robots who literally can’t see a picture. See how much normie knowledge I have, I should be able to fucking fit in. But they’re in podcasting. Graphic design. Branding. What they do is acceptable. People who like it are soyboys. People who like my stuff are incels.
They’re Nazis from the manosphere who believe they’re entitled to sex, he says. What is it they call men who have sex– Chads. I like this guy but think about Jane Goodall at the punch bowl. Someone says have you heard about these “chimps” they have now.
I’ve read about this stuff, I say. I think a lot of it’s tongue in cheek.
Oh no, it’s quite serious–
Well if these guys ever do crack, it’s gonna be bigger than ISIS. There’s a lot of them.
Yes and this communal culture of toxic masculinity has intensified their entitlement— it’s dangerous–
Yeah but who knows, I mean, Elliot Rodger was meme-able because he had this thing where he had all the pieces of a good looking guy but somehow wasn’t–
And a girl says who and the soyboy says the incel who murdered women, it was somewhere in Central Calif-
Isla Vista. Elliot was photogenic. He had the pictures with the black BMW and the mimosa glass and the sunglasses, you know. He had a manifesto. Whereas Alek Minassian looks like he killed people two days after his Bosley hair implants started to sprout, it’s not gonna pop–
You sure do know a lot about incels.
Yeah well, I’m writing a book about a guy with similar problems. He causes a nuclear holocaust. And I agree with him, I agree with my character, I don’t say. There is exactly zero irony in anything I’ve ever written I don’t say, and we’re among you, you can’t run, we’re in fucking Gabon….
And what is it that you do for work exactly?
A bird of prey alights on a phone pole. I wonder if I can point it out and change the subject. But it’s a juvenile. I can’t tell if it’s a Merlin or a Cooper’s Hawk. I watch birds every day but I know much more about Elliot Rodger.
Later in the pool a branding consultant I’ve had a thing for is demonstrating a Pilates move to make her thighs rub my serratus anterior. This part of my anatomy is perfectly shaped like fingers because I’m a Chad. She’s crawling on top of me in the warm water. Maximizing the surface area of her 25 year old hamstring on my flesh… my boyfriend knows I’m not monogamous, she says. But he’s right there. It’s too weird. I go home and my second string flakes and I mutter alone in bed about my twisted world.
delicioustacos 
This is the struggle encapsulated. Any opinion outside of the mainstream is stifled. Friends talking about Trevor Noah and John Oliver? Better not speak up, they’ll brand you a trumptard. Coworkers talking about immigration? Better not speak up, they’ll call you a racist. Relatives talking favorably about a communist regime that murdered 20 million farmers? Better not speak up, they’ll brand you an enemy of the revolution. Been on 4chan and know what the actual joke is about? Can’t tell them. Have you read Mises and understand his critique of the state? Don’t bring it up. Been red-pilled about average IQ and the heritability of it as a trait? They’ll call you a eugenicist. Is your girlfriend a teacher that has problems with her 80% minority remedial English students? Definitely better not bring up how we aren’t all created equal. I live in an undercurrent. My state is red, but my city is blue, and even bluer still is my neighborhood, and even bluer still is my industry, and my workplace is daring shades of Azul that can scarcely be imagined. I trade my dignity and my personally to worm alongside these people and Hoover up the government money they are awash in. This undercurrent is everywhere, yet everywhere remains invisible for those unwilling to see, and I swim in it constantly looking for the few sweet gasps of air outside of the state sanctioned talking points. My only wish would be for these people to see that this undercurrent exists all around then, even if they never dip their heads in themselves. The worst part to me is that they don’t know, and whenever you pull the curtain back these people use it as an opportunity to poke fun at you endlessly for it. People who call themselves friends, colleagues, or that claim intimacy with me take delight in using my honest exchanges with them as fodder for jokes when in public. These people wouldn’t know real intimacy, they only accept it from people they already agree with.
The female value system. Nothing that could cause conflict or hurt feelings, question the majority social party line, divide people along racial lines etc. The only acceptable time to be “negative” and disagreeable is to criticize those that are perceived as possibility bringing about these conditions even if the reality is or ends up being worse. Women live in a fantasy world and men cater.
You need new friends, my friend.
“Literally everyone I meet thinks my opinions are garbage. Clearly, THEY are the problem.”
Each half of the population hates the other half, jewpuppet.
I am a whiny faggot
Should have fucked the 25 year old.
Peacefully tolerating a commie coven is too high a price for a shot at some pussy.
Anyway, as a nominal member of the normie community, you have some influence over how people perceive the “incel problem.” Don’t be such a pussy and speak up if you have something to say. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only woman who gets wet for men who are willing to thoughtfully & compassionately promote an unpopular opinion. If you can make other men look stupid in arguments with you, that’s even better.
Women fundamentally DO believe that men need to be cared for like children. We do legitimately believe that you will maim, kill and die without female attention. It’s not a hard sell.
Grill here. As a grill, I think…
Don’t hit on me, silly boys!
Tee-hee!!
Be quiet and sit down.
Women may not have opinions on what men can and can’t do, because you have zero idea of what it takes.
Oh my god, you’re just so… precious. Never change.
hu-what noperz is pointing out is that womynz will often use the argument: anyone that’s not a female cannot speak as to the female experience; incidentally, the racial equivalent one often hears is, e.g.: since you ain’t ‘black’ you can’t talk about the ‘black’ experience. Well, logic would dictate that, in the instant case, women cannot speak for men — very simple! But, you know, logic is not to be found in the wheelhouse of feelz …
Small nonetheless remains right in that a man who deftly defends the indefensible is like a Moses parting the red, fleshy beef curtain sea. Women don’t care if you’re right, so long as you win. Because might makes right. And in other news …
The problem is if you defend the wrong people or wrong opinions, these kinds of guys will get ass-blasted and try to fight you. They will act as if they’re possessed by a demon. They are soldiers of the status quo. It will ruin the party at the very least.
All male interaction is underpinned by the treat of violence. The other commenters are right, women don’t understand this.
Threat. Treat. Whatever
I’ve been there too. I find a way to say speak up on behalf of the incels (even though I’m a woman and shouldn’t, sure) through sort of playing the devil’s advocate, or saying I read both sides of the divide, I know a lot about many kinds of people (which I do). I get away with it ’cause I’m generally nice and polite enough about it, have enough normie credentials to be considered intelligent by them, and am demonstrably eccentric. If someone were to challenge me about my opinions, they wouldn’t know where to start. I especially like to rattle the cages of late-twenties, early-thirties feminists, it’s so delicious when they don’t know whether I’m serious or not, the vaguely unsettled look they get on their faces when someone presents them with evidence of a reality that doesn’t jive with the version they’ve swallowed. The beauty of cognitive dissonance. Passive-aggression is my favorite vice, but I do try to target it constructively.
People get so anxious when they can’t pin you, too, hence all the questions about what exactly it is that you do. All those little cogs desperate to know where another cog fits in. They have a lot invested in this monstrous machine of a society, and they don’t like to think someone may want to just opt out of it. Or even destroy it.