With the war between New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio and the NYPD escalating to DEFCON 2, you”d think the people who need the police the most would stop biting the hand that protects them. But no one ever went broke overestimating the ungratefulness of the corn-fed hipsters who dominate the Big Apple’s media megaphone. Case in point: Gawker‘s Andy Cush decries the force as “pathetic crybabies“ and “an embarrassment to the city of New York.”
After trying to mentally calculate how much cheese Cush would need for his whine, I decided to do a little research into the guy. To the surprise of no one, he lives in Brooklyn and is not a New York native. According to his Facebook profile, Cush hails from the Baltimore suburb of Severna Park, confirming my belief that any town that has “park” in the name is a worthless cultural void.
Andy Cush is yet another dilettante in the long line of NYC transplants living off Mommy’s credit line. Usually hailing from stagnant backwaters like Wisconsin or Minnesota, they migrate to New York to fulfill their dream of fronting an “art noise duo” or getting their quirky novel about growing up in the suburbs of Des Moines published. They”ve never fired a gun, balanced a checkbook, or lived in a ZIP code that was less than 90 percent white, yet they think they”re qualified to lecture the little people on the evils of racism and misogyny.
It’s because of the Great Midwestern Twit Migration that de Blasio is even mayor. A Red Sox fan with a black, Sapphic pit bull of a wife and zero accomplishments to his name, he couldn”t get elected dogcatcher in the old NYC. But thanks to 20 years of gentrification and ridiculous tax rates, you”ll find more native New Yorkers in a Raleigh sports bar than in the city itself.
One year after the red diaper baby’s coronation as mayor, the rot in New York is evident. De Blasio’s biggest accomplishments include raising taxes to fund a ghetto daycare program (misleadingly called “universal pre-K“), banning horse-drawn carriages at the behest of his campaign donors, and lowering the city’s speed limit to increase traffic tickets. His hayseed constituents have also pressured the MTA into launching a campaign against “manspreading“ on the subway, because millennial women are too socially retarded to ask strangers if they can sit down next to them.
A city can only indulge the whims of its most obnoxious voter blocs up to a certain point. So long as NYPD beat cops were allowed to stop and frisk suspicious-looking youths and arrest squeegee men for jaywalking, the government could waste everyone’s time with soda bans and safe sex smartphone apps for teens. By attacking the men who made New York City fit for human habitation, de Blasio and his white fanboys have slit their own throats.
As someone whose family has been based in New York for longer than Wisconsin has been a state, I bristle at these fuzzy-bearded fruits whining about “police brutality.” The NYPD is one of the most professional and honest police forces in America. They will never bother you unless you give them a reason to, and even then you can avoid punishment by being courteous. For example, if you”re caught urinating in public in NYC, you get a $25 fine and the cops laugh about it. Try doing that back home in Michigan and you”ll end up on the sex offender registry.
Most of the abuses the NYPD commit are a result of policies that the left either created themselves or directly benefit from. Eric Garner, the chosen martyr of the anti-police brigade, was killed because he was illegally selling cigarettes, a profitable enterprise thanks to punitive left-wing smoking laws. The “broken windows” policing of Rudy Giuliani and Bill Bratton was what transformed New York from the city that Gerald Ford told to drop dead to a place where young women can walk their dogs alone at night.
]]>
In 2002, a failed British journalist named Nick Denton started Gawker, a bitchy gossip blog run out of his Manhattan apartment. Over 10 years later, Gawker and its sister sites have become the biggest names in clickbait “journalism,” pulling down millions of visitors a month and making its owner a millionaire several times over. The secret to Denton’s success? He took the aggressive, lynch mob mentality of British tabloids, which specialize in ruining people’s lives, and injected it into America’s comparatively placid, Oprahfied media market.
In particular, Gawker, Jezebel, Valleywag, and their sister sites specialize in witch hunts: digital vigilantism against those who fail to keep up with leftist orthodoxy. Geoffrey Miller, Pax Dickinson, Justine Tunney, Violentacrez: the list of people whom Gawker has garroted for “racism” or “misogyny” could fill a phone book. With an army of Twitter twits behind it, Gawker Media truly is the moral majority of the left, instigating mob action against those who sin against the religion of tolerance. Gawker‘s provocations are even encouraging real-world violence now, as Valleywag‘s overfed man-baby of an editor Sam Biddle eggs on attacks against San Francisco tech workers from the safety of the East Coast.
Which makes the revelation that Denton has been allowing trolls to terrorize his female employees all the more delicious.
For the past few months, 4chan has been engaged in a trolling operation against Jezebel, posting pictures of rape and gore porn in the comments section. Despite the fact that these shocking and disgusting images are stressing out staffers to the point where they”re developing PTSD, Denton has steadfastly refused to do anything about the problem. Jezebel‘s staff recently snapped and posted an open letter on the site demanding that Gawker Media do something, calling 4chan’s trolling “a very real and immediate threat to the mental health of Jezebel‘s staff and readers.”
Fat chance of this happening, however. As others have pointed out, Gawker Media’s business model depends on getting clicks; indeed, their writers are paid according to how many page views their articles get. Since comments help drive traffic to websites, fighting 4chan’s rape porn trolling will reduce Gawker‘s profitability. Not only that, Google itself ranks web pages according to how many comments they have, as comments are extremely difficult to fake. Fewer comments means a lower page rank, which translates into less search traffic and less money for Denton to blow on exotic vacations with his boy-toy hubby. If Gawker Media was willing to testify in federal court as to why they should be allowed to rip off their interns, you can bet your bottom peso that they aren”t going to do jack about this.
And there’s the punch line. Gawker Media, the company that gets people fired from their jobs for making “sexist” jokes, has been creating a hostile work environment for its women staffers for months. They”re the leftist equivalent of a priest who rails against homosexuality only to be caught molesting altar boys in the confessional booths. In staying silent on this for so long, Dodai Stewart, Lindy West, and Jezebel‘s other star employees have shown themselves to be frauds. They don”t care about feminism, “fat shaming,” or whatever cause they”re screeching about today; all they care about is money and power. And now we have the proof.
]]>
In 2005, a microbiologist from Maryland started a humble blog dedicated to his exploits in Washington, D.C.’s notoriously rough dating market. The blog was titled, appropriately enough, DC Bachelor. Nearly a decade later, said blogger goes by the name Roosh, he no longer lives in D.C., and he’s become one of the Internet’s most respected”and infamous”writers on masculinity and seduction. Roosh’s Bang textbooks, which teach men to improve their skills with women, have brought him great financial and critical success, while his sister site Return of Kings has inspired the wrath of feminists worldwide with its unapologetic defense of traditional masculinity and values.
It’s in this spot that he’s published his latest memoir, Poosy Paradise.
The title comes from a Danish talk show where the panel members (discussing Roosh’s book Don”t Bang Denmark) were unable to translate his phrase “pussy paradise” into their own language. Pussy paradise is the goal of all men, a land where vaginas grow on trees, women are faithful, and love is simple. No Tinderfessions, no bizarre head games, just a never-ending river of easy, affectionate vaj.
Poosy Paradise represents yet another metamorphosis in Roosh’s long climb from anonymous grinder to Kwisatz Haderach of poon to wizened mentor for young men worldwide. It details his two-month visit to Romania a year ago, as he picks up local girls and deals with his newfound fame. Whereas scoring was once a cause for celebration, now it’s just part of the job. Whereas Roosh used to be disappointed when a relationship didn”t work out, he now accepts it as a fact of life. He’s cracked the female code as assuredly as a clockmaker knows clocks; all that’s left is to wind “em up and watch “em tick.
This is where the usual suspects come in: “AHA! Being a cad isn”t all it’s cracked up to be!” Maybe it isn”t, but I prefer to get my opinions of war from soldiers on the front line, not pants-pissing REMFs.
Poosy Paradise, while not perfect, is a poignant portrait of the tragicomedy of modern love. While himself a Gen-Xer, Roosh writes to the Millennial generation, the young”uns who”d rather fiddle with their iPhones than fuck. We Millennials prefer porn to partying and video games to real life, a product of endless helicopter parenting and draconian laws that lead to teenage sexters being booked for trafficking in kiddie porn. On the few occasions we can even be bothered to hook up, it’s through something like Tinder, where there’s no emotional commitment or even human contact beyond the genital grinding. Just swipe right and get some free dick delivered piping hot to your Brooklyn shoebox, no effort required.
As much as we can criticize sexual promiscuity and sluttiness, at least the generations who came before us had fun. People formed real connections and had real escapades, the kinds of experiences that build character and make people interesting. But there’s no drama or excitement for my generation, just pointless, mechanistic stimulation. Even calling it “hedonism” is a lie, because nobody my age truly enjoys their lives. To the dismissive-avoidant Millennial, sex carries no more gravity than a bowel movement.
That’s what Poosy Paradise“and Roosh’s work in general”captures: the no-win scenario of modern dating. You can be the “beta male” chump earnestly seeking love and finding nothing, right up until you turn 30 and your same-age cohorts come down with baby rabies. You can throw yourself into the Tinder culture with aplomb, giving up on anything resembling an emotional connection with the hotties you bang. You can become like Roosh, a “love tourist” plumbing foreign lands for a woman you can love, but even those countries are being assimilated into the American Borg, where men are nothing but clowns to entertain women in between bouts of Tweeting sex selfies.
]]>