On Internet Provocateurs

I can't keep track of every asshat who rigs himself a following.  Nor do I have any desire to.  Therefore, I have lived my life happy assing around with no knowledge that Kevin Samuels and Jordan Peterson exist on this planet.

But people keep insisting on retweeting their existence onto my timeline.  For instance, I had never heard the name Kevin Samuels until he dropped dead a couple of weeks ago.

Apparently he had a podcast or something lambasting women for being overweight.

Then this week, Jordan Peterson, whom I also know nothing about, tweeted this:



I don't know what "authoritarian tolerance" is supposed to mean.  The phrase is an oxymoron.  But these dudes are never known for their IQ's, you know?

Anyway, I looked him up a bit, and he's just another hustler.  This has been going on forever.  How many comments have you seen, without looking for them! from nobodies shrieking how they would never bone this woman or that woman?  Either she's too old, too fat, not pretty enough, whatever.

How many of those dudes do you believe are actually getting laid offline?  I can give you a really good estimate, okay?

You can blame the internet, and I do, but I have this very specific memory from the 90's.  I had my head down working, as usual, but an asshat conversation broke out around me.  This happened to me a lot when I was at this company called SJS Signal & Communications.  It was because it was a mostly-male company and I was very young and very hot.  So  they congregated, and I got to hear all of their brilliant thoughts up close.

I really have no idea why they were talking about Erica Kane, but I swear they were.  Maybe Susan Lucci did something newsworthy that week.  Anyway, they were literally talking about how they would have "done her" a decade or two ago, but now she too old and they wouldn't do her. 

Reader, I laughed.  I lifted my head up and gave them the news.

"You can't get Susan Lucci, so don't sweat this.  In fact, you couldn't score with her housekeeper."

They started hopping around like I had lit their feet on fire, but I put my head down and got back to work.

The thoughts of these morons have never been of interest to me.


It's got nothing to do with me.  These guys got online and spent their lives furiously trying to make women feel badly about themselves.  Do you know why?  It's because they never got the girl.

So, engorged with frustrated rage, they went online and told everyone, every chance they get, that any woman over 30 or over 125 lbs or whatever, is unfuckable and nobody wants them.

What's that got to do with me?

Now that I am of the age they consider unfuckable...it still has nothing to do with me.

It doesn't resemble my life, never has, and I can't imagine it ever will.  They are here to infuriate me I guess?  But they don't exist to me.  

Look at Peterson's face for one example:

l swear to God I could dig up a corpse in more fuckable condition.  What do his tastes in women have to do with me?  He wouldn't get within 10 feet of me in a local bar as long as I saw him coming.  Imagine if that pic was scratch-n-sniff?  Right?

Maybe he gets laid because he's become internet famous, and I would guess is grifting top dollar from the online incel market, but I don't fuck for money, so again, what's that got to do with me?

I have too many things to be outraged about, like American Nazis shooting up grocery stores, Roe being overturned, I could go on.  I don't have the time or interest to be outraged about these smelly messes.

That's got nothing to do with me.  

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