Jeff Reese has not moved to Mexico yet, so he’s feeling extra rant-y. Bringing you double the Pfffffft: a rant against moron men’s rights activists and a rant about raging (and aging).
Men’s Rights Activists: Fuck Off, You Troll Cunts
Yes, I get the irony in using the word “cunt” in the title of a rant against Men’s Rights Activists (MRA) groups. Since this website has its origins in Australia, I feel I can use the word in the most British/Aussie manner possible, so hopefully it’s taken in that context and I don’t piss off both sides of this issue.
Men’s rights activists epitomize what is wrong with masculinity in the modern era. By whining about masculinity being “subjugated” by feminism or society in general, you fucks are creating the problem. Being male isn’t about being tough, or treating interpersonal relationships as conquests. It isn’t about feeling entitled that the world owes you anything; whether it’s a woman not fucking you (believe me, I have tons of women not fucking me at every moment—that’s their prerogative) or video games being made less overtly misogynistic. You aren’t owed shit. “Political correctness” isn’t running amok. People are just now calling you an asshole for being an asshole. You aren’t entitled to be a dick without repercussions, so being called out on your shit isn’t an affront on your rights.
Every few months, a friend will stumble upon king of kings or whatever troll is making money by pissing off large groups with inflammatory bullshit and getting otherwise sensible people to click on their links. I know the asshole that runs that site laughs every month when he gets his ad revenue check. Please, if you can avoid it, don’t click through to those pages. Don’t feed the trolls.
Being male is difficult, they have it right. But it’s not difficult in the way they portray it. It’s difficult because of the exact message they put forth. It’s okay to be weak, it’s okay to fail. That doesn’t define you. Acceptance of failure is actually an admirable trait in a human being. Not fearing failure is probably the bravest a human can be. Stop being scared little boys and understand that your failures are mere roadblocks to your greater happiness in whatever manner that presents itself.
Kindness is another trait that we as men need to see as strength rather than weakness. If you cannot muscle up the fortitude to just be kind to anyone you meet, then your parents failed you. Empathy is taught and sadly it seems we aren’t doing a very good job of teaching an entire gender this lesson. Open your hearts, boys, and good things happen.
Parents, it’s up to you to teach boys that it’s okay to ask for help; that fear, sadness, or whatever emotion is driving the anger behind their acting out is okay. That anger and violence aren’t acceptable responses to anything. That repressing emotions only causes heartache and rage.
Stopping men’s rights trolls from trolling comes from you. Inside every MRA cunt is a scared little boy who’s struggling with his impotence in dealing with failure. That little boy needed a hug and to be told he was loved, not in spite of his failures, but because of them. If there isn’t a parent around to deliver that message, then we as a society need to start delivering it ourselves. Because scared little boys become scared men, and scared men can be a ticking time bomb waiting to lash out at the world.
So, my message to you MRA cunts is it’s okay. Powerlessness is something we all feel, you don’t have to be tough. It’s okay to be vulnerable … people will like you more for it. It’s possible to be worthy of love.
Or keep being cunts and hopefully fade into obscurity. Pfffffft.
Rage Is a Young Man’s Game
I used to really care … about everything. Every social slight done to those I love, or to ones regarded as underdogs, or to anyone who just didn’t deserve it. Everyone really. The irony of being filled with anger because the world wasn’t more loving and compassionate was lost on me. I was young, I was a punk rocker … anger was what we are “supposed” to feel.
Then, my son was born. At that moment, I realized anger isn’t what I was feeling, it was frustration and fear. I was only 23, but that was probably a moment that allowed me to get through my formative years alive and not in jail.
I’ve always been hyper aware of repercussions for my actions, so maybe I wouldn’t have gone down the same dark road that has killed so many of the people I love. But I was one bad decision away from being another victim of stupid male rage. Most of us, at one point or another, are.
Then slowly, as I aged, I mellowed. The anger became the actual emotions driving it (the adage that anger isn’t an emotion, it’s a product of other emotions is almost universally true, and usually it’s fear). That fear became a driving force of my life for a while. Fear of inadequacy, fear of not being a good enough father, son, or partner. Fear of failure.
Then, I failed. A lot … and hard. That fear became powerless over me. Once my father died, it kind of snapped and I decided not long after to get “Pfffffft” tattooed on my knuckles. Most people think it’s a joke, that it’s just a funny thing I did. It’s a tribute to the release of fear and anger. I’m just too fucking old to carry that around with me anymore. It’ll kill ya.
I’m sure something eventually will rile me up and I’ll write some vitriolic article about some right wing lunacy or some left wing weakness and I’ll put out that front of anger (see article above) … but under it will be acceptance that I’m too old to really fight, it’s a young man’s game; so I’ll stand back and cheer those who will fight the good fight on.