There’s no good way to illustrate this post so here’s sleepy Maru in a box.
Lady feminists! I have some terrible, terrible news for you from pickup artiste Heartiste, the would-be God Emperor of Poon. Apparently he and his pals have been having sex with you all.
Heartiste lets us all in on this little secret in a post earlier this month titled “Lots Of Feminists Are Getting Banged Out By PUAs.” He explains that those dudes who “scavenge snatch” in upscale white neighborhoods in big American cities – what Heartiste in an attempt at humor likes to call Stuff White People Like Land (or SWPL-Land) – will by definition score with some of you feminist ladies.
This is because most girls in the big blue population sinks of SWPL-Land are feminists of one stripe or another. You can’t swing an Emperor Deluxe condom without hitting a feminist in the cooch if you live or operate within these zones of misandry.
Heartiste helpfully spells out for his readers some of the different kinds of feminists to be found in these misandry zones.
The first, the most extreme exponents of radical feminism are what one of his readers calls the “Jizzabel-type feminazi,” or what Heartiste himself calls “the femcunts.”
Yes, that’s right. Apparently the most radical of all feminist publications, the SCUM Manifesto for our internet era, is Jezebel.
Heartiste explains:
These are your Jizzebomb fanatics, the devotees of feminism as a life-affirming ideology. They are the smallest in number, but the loudest in bitchery and kookery. This is the kind of manjawed girl — typically a lawyer, academic, organic farmer or diversity consultant — who reads and comments daily at sites like Feministing and Slate/Salon/SuckMyClit with furrowed brow, regurgitating what she learns therein at parties and in the middle of dates, exposing a vile expectation that all the world should agree with where her retarded logic takes her.
Uh, I’m familiar with Feministing, and Slate and Salon, but I’m afraid I don’t have any idea about this mysterious “SuckMyClit” site he’s referring to. (There isn’t even a site up by that name, though enterprising publishers will be happy to learn that the domain name is for sale.)
Heartiste continues:
As long as you don’t embroil yourself in her occasional tantrums at invisible enemies, and keep the pick-up light and breezy while steering her in different conversational directions whenever you sniff the approach of another feminist tirade carried along by the id winds, you will get the bang. She is, underneath her femcuntery, still a woman, and as such (however much you may need reminding) she will respond viscerally to ancient cues of your mate worthiness, and her vagina will flower in spectacular opposition to the wilting of her mind.
Heartiste is an even worse writer of erotic fiction than E.L. James.
Oh, and here’s another little bit of shitthatneverhappened.txt. (TW for crude rape reference.)
You don’t want to stay with women like these beyond a few hate smashes, so for shits and giggles I suggest you regale her in the morning with your support of the Second Amendment and the ludicrousness of the equal pay myth. For bonus soul-shivving points, casually muse aloud, after you have sprayed her mug and she’s inserted her glazed face into your armpit nook, that 1 in 5 women who are being raped will orgasm during the act.
Yes, that’s right. Heartiste is publicly posting his fantasies about Jezebel-reading radical feminists rubbing semen (his own) into his armpits with their faces.
Next in Heartiste’s imaginary classification scheme come The Partisans.
These are the girls who occasionally read feminist blogs (usually when a fat femcunt friend passes along a link) and parrot the benumbing Cathedral crap they hear on TV and read in approved MSM papers. But these soapbox episodes are blessedly infrequent and pass unremarked, unless they manage to corral some dipshit manboob into acting as a sounding board for their cockamamy nonsense on white male privilege and socially constructed beauty standards (Hugs Shyster, Scrotumless Scalzi, I’m looking at you two distilled estrogen pools.)
Hey, a shoutout! Thanks, pal!
And finally, The Lemmings:
MOST women in the cities will have spent the better part of their sexually adventurous single girl years steeped in the platitudes of feminism, and they will know nothing else. Combined with women’s natural aversion to abstract thinking beyond immediate, selfish concerns, what you wind up with is a population of lickspittle lemmings who mindlessly nod in agreement every time a talking head exploiting this deficiency in the mental circuitry of half the voting public sonorously intones something about “equal pay for equal work”, or “war on women”. The Lemmings, by far the largest group of women you will likely encounter unless you live in South Dakota, include all types of girls, from club sluts to self-important HR robots to daddy’s princesses to deliriously frantic scenesters. Luckily for your sanity, these girls do not take feminism seriously … .
In the end, Heartiste tells his readers that “90% of your city’s women are feminist in name if not in execution.”
So they’re feminists, even though they’re not really feminists. Gotcha. With such an expansive definition, it’s no wonder Heartiste is convinced that a significant portion of the women he “bangs out” – whether in the real world or in his fevered imagination – are feminists of some sort.
He concludes:
Most hardcore feminists, whether or not they know it, are fucking men who either pretend to give a shit about their precious ideology, or don’t even bother with the pretense of pretending to give a shit about it. In fact, the majority of men, and an even bigger majority of players, are like me: they find feminism absurd on its face and will dismissively change the subject anytime the girls they are seeing make the mistake of veering into feminist bromide territory. Most girls are sensible and will know when their feminist retardation is turning off the men they like, and will quickly fall in line with the change of subject.
There are exceptions. A few supercharged feminists will eventually wind up with sycophantic manboobs for lovers, and a more perfect pairing I couldn’t imagine.
Aw. Another shoutout. It’s almost as if he has some sort of he-man heterosexual man crush on me.
