Kino-escalating in the Garden of Eden
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I feel I need to start this post with a warning. And I hope you will take it seriously. Because someone at Return of Kings, Roosh V’s horrendous Red Pill megasite, has decided to try to write fancy.
And what they have produced instead is some kind of Lovecraftian monstrosity.
So, brace yourself, because you and I are going to read “Bad Things Happen When Women Lead And Men Follow,” by someone calling himself Elrit Frisia.
I will remain by your side the entire time.
Take a deep breath, and let’s begin:
For the largest part of known human history, it has been men who have been the riders of civilization.
And we’re off to a really perplexing start. The … riders of civilization? Men are “riding” civilization? I thought they were all out hunting mammoths and building pyramids and inventing “spread spectrum” technology.
Oh, wait, that last one was Hedy Lamarr.
Anyway, back to the dudes riding civilization and all that.
The luminaries of the torch, the undying flame of kin, brotherhood, leadership, and order.
What? That’s not even a sentence.
It has been because of their innumerable sacrifice as men; men of their family, men of their country, and men of their culture, that we can now enjoy and afford the luxuries of what modest living affords us.
Uh, a sacrifice is one thing. It can’t be innumerable. I think you meant “sacrifices.”
I don’t even know where to start with the rest of this, er, sentence, so I won’t.
But as I’ve written before, something seems amiss in our modern world.
Ok, fair readers, let’s see if you can guess just what that “something” might be.
Did you guess “women?”
SURPRISE! It’s not women. Well, sort of not women.
Ok, so it’s true that “our” women are in an “absolutely unacceptable state,” at least according to Elrit. But, you see, it’s not really their fault. It’s the fault of men for letting “their women” go bad. You know, like when you leave a gallon of milk out overnight. Women are the stinky milk of our modern civilization. And men are the ones who left them out:
Men are responsible for this. It is not women. Men are responsible for their household, responsible for their affairs, and responsible for the state of their nation.
And for their women becoming stinky milk.
Alas, once women become stinky milk, well, the whole society goes to H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks. According to “sermonist R.G. Lee,” whom Elrit quotes approvingly,
Women women women women women I hate women.
Ok, that’s not the real quote. But, honestly, the real quote isn’t much on an improvement:
When women sag morally and spiritually, men sag morally and spiritually. When women take the downward road, men travel with them. When women are lame morally and spiritually, men limp morally and spiritually. The degeneracy of womanhood helps the decay of manhood.
Somehow I can’t imagine that R.G. Lee — a famous fundamentalist preacher best known for an oft-delivered sermon promising that the world’s sinners would face a terrible “payday someday” — would approve of Roosh’s fornication-heavy lifestyle. But what the heck, Lee seems mad at women too, so why not bring him along for the ride?
So, women are degenerate stinky milk. How, oh wise Return of Kings douchebag, did we get to this terrible state?
Walk with me to the Garden. The Garden of the East. About six thousand years ago. One fine noon, under the auspices of cold river air and soft patches of brightly-colored leaves, there lie two: one man and one woman.
Oh fucking hell. Are you serious?
A serpent creases by, sneering and seductive, making jests toward the woman, or so we are led to believe.
No, no, no, no, no. You’re not really going to
The woman seems frightened at first glance, but slowly eases into the serpent, laughing at what the serpent whispers into her ear and paying amusement to its performance.
All right, that’s it, I’m stopping the car. She “pays amusement” to the snake’s performance? You don’t “pay amusement” to a performance. THAT’S NOT HOW WORDS WORK IN ENGLISH.
Anyway, so this unnamed woman in the garden dallies a bit with her amusing snake friend and the next thing you know …
the woman walks along the man, both with a strange fruit in hand
The woman walks WHAT the man? You don’t walk ALONG someone. You walk ALONGSIDE someone.
Sorry, sorry, back to the story
the woman walks along the man, both with a strange fruit in hand, the serpent now seen nowhere, and the skies clouded with darkness and thunder. In a fit of lunacy, the man and the woman both shower themselves in leaves and balk, and take to rummaging across the Garden like utter mad fools.
Huh. So the snake seduces the woman, and the woman seduces the man? Kind of sounds like you’re blaming the woman, not the man, dude.
Oh, and I’m not sure what you think “balk” means, but it’s wrong. (And you use it incorrectly twice, so I don’t think it’s just a typo.)
What we have witnessed is the timeless, bleeding edge of human naïveté. It is a fact of nature that man is at odds not only with himself, but with others: both those above him and those below him, for there are in truth no equals. And for order to triumph, not only must man triumph over himself, but everyone must also triumph for the good of something beyond themselves.
You get a triumph! And you get a triumph! And you get a triumph!
This arrangement can only be sufficiently well-maintained if we obey the wishes of our zealous god: tradition.
What?
Dude, tradition is not a god, “zealous” or “jealous” or any other sort.
It is no accident that the institutions most central to Western tradition have been found in virtually all civilizations worth writing a tome about. They have been dictated to us by the lips of our most highest himself: whether that be evolution or a single, conscious power in charge of designing the universe. It is an optimal ideology that accounts for the nature and sexual strategies of both men and women, and incentivizes them to care after a garden of their own.
Wait, what just happened here? It seems like god basically turned into an Evo Psych textbook about halfway through that paragraph. This is becoming a very strange sermon indeed.
Men hold a very special place as protectors and enforcers of this tradition. So that folly may not rule in those who dare not triumph.
Uh, “those who dare not triumph?” Who the hell are “those who dare not triumph?” What does that even mean? Are you just throwing random words together at this point? Do you not have an editor?
But, we see, that the serpent so loves to play with our wit, and to that end he knows women are the most apt at play, and the easiest to lead far from the narrow gate. And when man trusts more in the warmth of hand of her woman than the path she leads him to, that is when thunder falls from the heavens and the paleness of sky becomes overturned.
Ah, I remember this, this is from Paul’s Epistle to the Slutty Ladies who Cause Ice Particles in Clouds to Become Positively and Negatively Charged Thus Creating an Electrical Field that Discharges in the Form of Lightning Strikes, or Something Like That, I’m Not a Meteorologist.
Anyhoo, so these slutty ladies have been causing all sorts of problems.
And after a long walk through history, it is clear that we have been lulled by the serpent’s song. Spoke once the woman, and the man bent over his knees in order to please.
Huh. Apparently these slutty ladies are into pegging.
We failed to be discriminating in the company of poor ideals, and gave the woman her promiscuous zest with which she later robbed us (and in a fit of divine irony, herself) of our dignity, hoping we would gain power, acceptance, and a serviced libido in return.
Wait, “promiscuous zest” is bad? Uh, doesn’t the publisher of Return of Kings make his living selling e-books on how to have sex with what he might call “promiscuously zesty” women?
And while Roosh doesn’t exactly seem like the zestiest dude on the block, isn’t he, er, a bit promiscuous himself? Didn’t he recently publish an e-book called “Poosy Paradise,” telling the story of how he traveled to “a grisly city in Eastern Romania” in search of, er, a “Poosy Paradise?”
I mean, it seems to me that a dude who literally moves to a city he describes as “a place that no sane man would voluntarily live in had it not contained the best fruit of what the human female species can offer” has kind of disqualified himself as an arbiter of anyone else’s “promiscuity.”
But I digress. Back to Elrit’s little sermon on the evil sexy ladies.
We gave them a voice in the state, a voice in our churches, a voice in our halls of learning, and what has really been heard?
Oh, ok, the evil sexy voting churchgoing teaching ladies.
We’ve heard cries of foolishness, of bad apples and false burglars in the night, but the matter is that men have compromised everything they knew to be certain in order to gain nothing of lasting import.
BAD APPLES AND FALSE BURGLERS IN THE NIGHT!?!?!?!???!
Are you on the drugs, young man? It seems like maybe you’re on the drugs.
Certainly, we have known the pleasures of what women have to offer, and perhaps more now so than anytime else, when they fall off by the numbers into our nimble hands, but yet we hesitate to take more than a few, singly bites.
Singly bites? Singly bites?! WHAT ON EARTH ARE SINGLY BITES?!!?!??
When in times past we would have snatched an agreeable one and faithfully planted the seed of our future castle.
The SEED of our CASTLE?! Dude, castles DON’T GROW FROM SEEDS. People build them. Plants grow from seeds.
Even our own veteran maverick, despite his notable experience with the fairer sex, seems unable to see women as anything else but “a form of entertainment and distraction instead of significantly adding to my life.”
Well, yeah, but that’s because Roosh — the “veteran maverick” being referred to here — is a gigantic douchebag.
There is not much to be done, once we have sowed the seeds of our garden into the rocks.
Wait, I thought you were planting the seed of your castle. Now you’re planting a garden?
In all seriousness, though, I hope you dudes are literally ejaculating onto piles of rocks. The thought of you reproducing makes me shudder. Hell, the thought of you having any sort of sexual contact with other human beings makes me feel vaguely ill.
But let it serve, as a painful reminder, that women are meant to be enjoyed and to be cherished as any other pleasantry, but be careful of where she might stray you along because in the end you’ll share more than the blame and wish you had not followed her deep into the thicket.
Wait, what?
That’s the ending to your post?
What the hell kind of fire and brimstone sermon is this, anyway?
Here you were, working up to what I thought would be a call to swear off evil women, or deprive them of their right to vote, or, I dunno, something along the lines of R.G. Lee’s “payday someday” scenario.
And instead you’re all like, hey, go ahead and “cherish” the “pleasantry” that is woman, just don’t fall into their evil lady thickets?
You guys are terrible at being fundamentalists.
NOTE: I’m thinking this might deserve a dramatic reading. And that if someone delivers a nice dramatic reading, I might have to make it into a little animated video. (Oh, and if you want me to be able to turn your dramatic reading into a cartoon, you should either not include music, or should include the music in a separate sound file.)
