Rebel Wilson: Giving Red Pill dickweasels heart attacks since whenever she started doing that
So over on the Roosh V Forum, the regulars are wondering if anything can free them, and the world at large, from the terrible injustice of having to share the planet with fat women no man would ever want to have sex with, except for all of those men who do.
Sonsowey gets the discussion going with a plaintive question:
Does anyone out there think there is some force that could cause the obesity epidemic to reverse? Any chance we will look back on the multitude of landwhales as a sad relic of a more primitive time? Or is it nothing but bigger and bigger from here on out.
In fact, the “obesity epidemic” has already shown signs of plateauing — as several Roosh V commenters note. Indeed, obesity levels have been relatively stable for more than a decade, suggesting that Roosh V fans who think they’re suddenly being swamped by a rising tide of fat chicks are pretty much imagining the whole thing.
Never let it be said that Red Pillers lack imagination. Particularly when it comes to envisioning a possible solution to the Fattie Question.
Roosh V Forum commenter Kabal is hoping that sexy robot ladies can put some pressure on our nation’s non-robot ladies:
A leftward shift in the supply curve of male thirst would put more pressure on girls to get their shit together to maintain the same level of male attention.
At the very least, the more men’s balls are drained, the less inspired they will be to satiate the female demand for attention (e.g. Instagram likes, cat-calling, shitty approaches, etc.).
Yes, that’s right. It turns out that, despite all appearances to the contrary, women just LOVE being cat-called by random men as they go about their day, a desire they broadcast to the world by marching grimly ahead with disgusted looks on their faces as gross dudes make kissy sounds at them.
Now what if sex-bots are realistic enough to serve as companions? 90s AOL instant messenger chat-bots could already pass Turing Tests for basic bitches in terms of conversation.
Uh, dude, maybe they could pass your own personal Turing Tests, but somehow I’m thinking your conversational skills are only slightly more advanced than that of AOL Instant Messenger bots.
So really, it’s only an aesthetic problem in making sex-bots more appealing to men.
An attractive real woman would certainly beat a realistic sex-bot in the eyes of most men. However, an unattractive real woman vs. a realistic sex-bot? Hm…
If that doesn’t work, well, there’s always eugenics:
Just like with intelligence and height, parents should be able to screen for lower probabilities of obesity in potential offspring via pre-implantation genetic diagnosis.
DannyAlberta, meanwhie, pins his hopes for an end to obesity on economic collapse and literal mass starvation.
in the event that we have a severe economic catastrophe (like the kind doomsayers like peter schiff have been predicting for over a decade) and western governments (like in the uk, canada and the us) end up really, really broke – to the extent that social spending and “entitlements” end or are severely curtailed and the average person is left with very little disposable income – then yes the obesity epidemic might end, simply because fewer and fewer people will be able to afford anything other than a caloric deficit …
if we are restored to a more “eat what you kill” system (heh), the skinnier we might well get.
Civpro has similarly apocalyptic fantasies:
I think it will turn around eventually. As “good men” are disenfranchised and outbred, the wealthy secular welfare state for which they are the social capital will crumble, and so will the freedom that women have to look so terrible.
Not all of the Roosh V forum regulars are quite so, er, optimistic.
Strikeback offers this Totally Real Not Made Up Field Report, describing how he and a petite date were nearly stampeded by “kaijus” — a kind of Japanese movie monster — on the dancefloor.
Maybe experts on population health can see something I can’t, but from a street level view, I’m not positive.
Let’s take last weekends. I was out dancing, 162lb me and a petite 100lb girl. Two category 4 kaijus, each challenging our combined bodyweights, pushed their way into our space, nearly steamrolling us. I expertly manoeuvred my girl out of the way. Seconds later, out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a tall slim decent looking suited up guy losing control of his category 5 kaiju (a sight very common in Australia) and the gigantic butterball reptile spun our way while my girl froze with a horrified look on her face. Me to the rescue, once more… close call. We decided to leave the dance floor afterwards before more Cat 5 kaijus showed up.
Kaijus here used to be wallflowers, or hiding in the dark corners waiting for tall good-looking moneyed drunk male preys. Now they’re fearless and rolling straight out onto the dance floor to spread their toxic fats and smells.
The war is lost, gentlemen.
I think I speak for fellow, er, kaijus of all genders everywhere when I say: fuck you, dude!
Here’s a woman expressing that same thought in interpretive dance:
