It’s a 3-day drunk post Gawker.
Tomorrow I will make sense.
It’s a 3-day drunk post Gawker.
Tomorrow I will make sense.
Running joke from my karaoke nights. You do the MILF trilogy–Slide, Everlong, Desperately Wanting–you hook up, one night in three, irregardless of game. Umm, mee. But, as it happens, suddenly the chicks who are into that are all my age. Which. Ewwww.
So I experiment. And, mind you, I failed a bunch of times, but it’s Franz Ferdinand, Killlers (When You Were Young*), and Mumford (Little Lion Man) is my new trilogy.
Here’s where it gets weird.
Sometimes, if you’re singing karaoke, girls are like–I’m not listening to you. They’ll stand before you, poised against, I’m not listening to you!!!
But also sometimes, if you do a stripper tune, a la Mumford (Little Lione Man), Def Lepard (Pour Some Sugar on Me), AC/DC (You… Shook Me All Night Long), girls, especially hot girls, are like YEAH!
We won’t even talk about their reactions to me doing Nine Inch Nails.
Feminists have a problem with this. Beat them to death.
But also understand, there are some chicks. You sing well. They purposefully deny you.
Never fuck them.
Everybody missed this one. Back in June, just after embarrassing herself on an unrelated Nintendo text, but before celebrating Milo’s censorship at the hands of Twitter, Zoe Quinn achieved a milestone: she got dropped by her publisher.
No reasons were given. This was all as quiet as fuck, so I can’t tell you if the manuscript was rejected by her editor, or (more likely) by legal given the risk of defamation. And we can’t just let the salt flow at the thought of her having to return her advance. (This may be known later if somebody like Vox Day of Castalia House hears from his contacts.) But anyway, her publishing career is nearly kaput.
This tweet went up June 29:
Excited to announce CRASH OVERRIDE is now with PublicAffairs & will come out in 2017 with updated content on the fight against online abuse.
May sound great, and grifters gonna grift. But here’s the thing. It was supposed to be a memoir, published by Simon & Schuster, with a film deal. Simon & Schuster is one of the Big 5—a company with half a billion in annual sales or whatever it is, capable of getting you on the Today Show and The View and NPR and so forth. PublicAffairs, while based in NY, has been in limbo for years.
Short version of this is its parent company went bankrupt a decade ago. The firm was able to stay afloat with injections of capital from George Soros and the like, but was unprofitable and on the market for several years with no takers. It and certain other imprints were bought up cheap by the French conglomerate Hachette, however Hachette was mostly after other titles already published by the firm, sort of like buying a grab bag of comics at a convention for a few prizes you could see therein.
Tedious inside-baseball crap, but, tl; dr: PublicAffairs ain’t paying her a six-figure advance, and if she goes on TV, she’s paying for her own hotel and Uber fare. They’re not gonna put marketing muscle behind it. The book will do far worse than Michelle Fields’ epic, whose failures the great Mike Cernovich describes in detail.
Any film from it is now a real hard sell for Producer Amy Pascal, the chick who was ousted from Sony and is responsible for Ghostbusters 3.
Just one more thing to give thanks for on this #gamergate anniversary.
The puzzle of our IT lifetimes has been solved thanks to the NY Democrat! As a dude with a professional cert in data science, I’ve long wondered what the hell happened to chicks who got BAs in Information Architecture. If you haven’t heard of Information Architecture, it’s one of them STEM-sounding credentials that is fundamentally no different from a “studies” degree.
I experienced this first-hand at last year’s World Information Architecture Day. It was an incredibly well-funded seminar, sparsely-attended, worth it for the swag, except for the presentation itself. First half, our big lady speaker described the wonderful world of waterfall processes in the private sector (her extraordinary experience in project management no doubt why she now, ahem, consulted), briefly touched on the whole agile thing, and then an enthusiastic quiz session where we name-dropped multi-billion-social media companies.
In the afternoon, we planned a community garden, learning to identify stakeholders and detractors. I was Team Seed.
Seriously, women get degrees in this shit.
And apparently, at least one is now working for Senator Gillibrand.
Reported incidents fall below incidence rates.
What was that? I can’t even. You don’t like the data, 91% of colleges must be wrong. There isn’t any other possibility.
Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving. Everyone at the table should at least agree the government ought not be regulating fantasy football. The rest of the time, I talk about my dog. Whom I bring. And take for long walks.
Feminists laugh off the MGTOW phenomenon, implying that only lower-status males are joining the “no ma’am club.” After all, the feminine imperative demands only the finest in provisioning from her lifetime partner. One wonders if these gals are whistling past the graveyard in the wake of a new phenomenon, that of high-income males importing eggs from eastern Europe, and hiring surrogates in Mexico, to really go it alone, and protect themselves and their offspring.
I first started looking into surrogacy following a throw-away line by Janet Bloomfield about surrogate mothers being available for as little as $20k. I don’t doubt her sources, but to ensure full parental rights, genetic testing, and guarantees of paternity, a man is looking to spend about twice that.
The industry itself is rather fast-moving. Up until a year ago, most of the clinics were based in Thailand. Fly-by-night outfits, scandals (including one chap who sought to repopulate Japan all by his lonesome), and general political instability have moved Siam off the surrogacy radar, so, enter Mexico.
Wish I’d saved a screencap from six months ago, ‘cuz at the beginning of this year, there were only a couple of clinics. I bet they’re paying at least $.50 a click for those google adsense searches now.
The primary market for surrogates has supposedly been gay men. It doesn’t look like anyone has been keeping hard data, but in true journalistic fashion, between our hero in Japan, limited reportage, and personal anecdote, I think we can call this one a trend.
Anecdote’s just: a guy I knew was walking around with a kid. He’d gone the Nepal route, but would certainly have done it via Mexico if that option had been available. (Mexico only recently legalized, apparently.)
I also recall a ton of interest in surrogacy on Dalrock’s website, but can’t find one specific post that I saw in passing. The real problem was men, burned by the system, advising against using American surrogates, ‘cuz they might change their minds later. Again, the done procedure is eggs from Eastern Europe, implantation in L.A. or San Diego, mother lives in Mexico. Various legal niceties also taken care of.
The fascinating part is how quickly this particular response to the feminine imperative seems to have grown. It makes sense. Really, if your choices are an unemployable SJW with $200k in student loan debt that be paying for, or full parental rights to Irish twins for less than half that, and maybe a sweet au pair or older professional partner who wants to be part of your life on your terms, what would you take?
I suppose there will be critics who insist single men can’t be fathers. Actually, it’s single moms who screw the pooch on the raising kids thing. Children raised by single dads have very similar results to kids raised by married couples, though they don’t know nearly as many uncles as their single-mom-raised counterparts…
The Internet’s abuzz with news that Zoe Quinn, AKA Chelsea van Valkenburg, AKA Literally Who 1, has somehow managed to score a book deal, and film rights to her memoir have been optioned. There’s been comic headshaking, learned recriminations from those experienced in publishing who wonder what idiot signed that deal for Simon & Schuster, and saliva emanating from the mouth of legendary #GamerGate attorney Mike Cernovich at the thought of future defamation awards. But I gotta disagree with those who feel the book, if completed, will be an epic disaster. If she wants publishing success, LW1 just has to do is betray the trust of everyone who loved or befriended her through the years. And that kind of sociopathic behavior is all she’s ever been good at.
Understand, unless the book’s a hit, the movie won’t happen. And the book as currently pitched won’t even get enough copies printed to make the remainder tables at your local flea market. Publishing now relies on pre-orders, so folks with a significant online presence can get deals. However, we already know LW’s textual abilities, and how despite the hype Depression Quest was never remotely popular with the gaming community. That’s her core audience, who are supposed to make success happen and raise interest among the mainstream buyer. The book is DOA. Unless.
Quinn could do the unthinkable. Actually level in her memoir about all the crap she’s pulled through the years. It’d still be sort of fictional. Duh. But, begin with her early molestation by a family member. The outrageous crap she pulled when, high on something, she wrecked a porn shoot and claimed to have stabbed a man. Discuss if she actually maybe did stab a guy or why she so desperately wanted that kind of attention. And of course her need to find weak and inexperienced men, whom she somehow manages to seduce with her, umm, beauty. How she doxxed TFYC, sabotaged a game jam, faked threats against herself, dealt serious setbacks to women in tech who may now go decades before having a private interview with a male superior, got a noted Constitutional Scholar to weigh in against her attempts to silence an ex-boyfriend through the courts, and… hey, who the hell knows what she’s done to Lifschitz. There might be an audience for that book if done honestly.
I know, seems a bit crazy, but think about the memoir market for a minute. That stuff’s been saturated with women sharing their strength and their faux adversity since Oprah. Quinn’ll no doubt try to cover for a resurgence of info on her bad behavior by blaming it all on mental illness or drugs. Best case, she’s the skanky Elizabeth Wurtzel.
Plus, Wurtzel’s an Alpha Widow for Paul Westerberg, lead singer of The Replacements, one of the most awesome bands ever. Quinn’s biggest catch in leg-spreading was maybe Ben Kuchera. Wurtzel ended up graduating from Yale Law. Not that much of an achievement, perhaps, but a little better than sleeping with a few guys to get help building a Twine game. Eight-year-olds used to hand code those.
Worse yet, even if Quinn is somehow able to force that book into the public’s hands, the success won’t last. Wurtzel’s Prozac Nation was a bestseller. It got made into a movie. And the author still owes her publisher money for later works that didn’t pan out. Just try missing a deadline with Touchstone, sweetie.
The traditional success ain’t gonna happen. And the “what the Internet needs” spiel won’t work either. If ya ain’t noticed, the struggles of African-American men are lately trumping the concerns of bitchy white girls in the SJW victim hierarchy. The traditional book will fail. The lulz will be epic.
Unless LW1 turns heel. Heck, it’s already written. Just build off the Zoe Post. Explain how it was so easy to manipulate, gullible, clueless members of the media, how to get gaming journalists to review your stuff, how anyone ever actually believed your harassment nonsense, whatever the hell it was got done to Lifschitz, the list goes on. And we’re not just talking something cathartic here. A book like that might sell.
Call it post-feminist lit, if you will. But take the numbers off a novel like Gone Girl. Two million copies sold. Nothing likable or remotely admirable about the main character. Woman “can identify.” And, to be honest, there are women out there who need to identify with a chick like Zoe Quinn.
The self-esteem training and entitlement in our public schools has led to epidemic levels of narcissistic personality disorder in young women, most recently on display at Yale. Sure, we know about the precious snowflakes at the Ivy Leagues. And of course on less-renowned college campuses, the quest for status leads to imagined victimhood. But what about those young women who, like Quinn, have no college education? Have no skills beyond service? Couldn’t code their way out of a paper bag? But have spread their legs for too many dudes to land and keep a man of quality?
Quinn is the model. I swear, I’m a magnet for that sort of chick. Their big status generator now is to demand respect for the business they’ll launch, or the academic career they’ll resume any goddamn day. You just nod politely, try to get that one Jane’s Addiction tune out of your head, and move on. There’s no cure for NPD. The only time any of them came to epiphany was in a work of fiction involving prosthetic limbs. Just call them an evolutionary dead end and move on.
But give those lost gals a model: the nerd-whore Zoe Quinn as she actually is, and… well, won’t change anything, but ZQ could make a couple of bucks, and maybe those poor bastards at WizardChan might get something out of it, ‘cuz they were among the worst hurt.
Media portrayals of single women out on their own have adopted a new idea, namely that a gal of a certain age can, when she decides, find that one guy who will provide her with the lifestyle and social status she feels she’s entitled to, with no further effort on her part. It’s all just a party up ’til then. The idea has become something of a meme in film and television. Preliminary research indicates that, for women seeking a high-status life partner, sleeping around willy-nilly and neglecting their own physical conditioning isn’t a mating strategy that produces positive outcomes.
The most prominent woman to advocate these lifestyle choices is Sheryl Sandberg, a former Assistant Treasury Secretary who later helped Facebook provide the government with a lot of data about its users.
Sandberg was quoted as saying, “When looking for a life partner, my advice to women is date all of them: the bad boys, the cool boys, the commitment-phobic boys, the crazy boys. But do not marry them. The things that make the bad boys sexy do not make them good husbands. When it comes time to settle down, find someone who wants an equal partner. Someone who thinks women should be smart, opinionated and ambitious. Someone who values fairness and expects or, even better, wants to do his share in the home. These men exist and, trust me, over time, nothing is sexier.”
And her husband may have met these ideals, though of course he died rather young.
Doctor with rock-hard abs can’t get enough, and just wants this incredible beauty to stay with him always.
Even more convincingly, Amy Schumer’s Trainwreck features a doctor who’s been celibate for five years falling madly in love with an overweight 30-something, proud possessor of a 500 credit rating, 300 notch count, and substance abuse issues, because her daddy.
Far be it for myself to ever question what the media seeks to jam down a man’s throat, but, by coincidence, I’ve encountered a uniquely qualified focus group upon which to test Sandberg, et al’s assumptions about what men will accept in a partner.
For the past month, I’ve been walking my dog around the Inner Harbor in Baltimore, here to help out with some family stuff. Baltimore, when not catching fire, has two very good medical schools. Johns Hopkins Med has been pretty much the best in the world since it was founded. The University of Maryland, founded in 1807 just a few miles west of JHU, has, thanks to its urban origins, since inception been pretty much the place to go if you’re shot.
On sunny days like we’ve had recently, one finds a number of men wearing the telltale blue scrubs of an MD wandering about. Taking advantage of this opportunity, I interviewed 17 male unmarried physicians, in the process of completing their residency, about the assertions made by Sandberg, Dunham, et al. No effort was made to identify the participants beyond looking for blue scrubs. Our conversations were brief, heated, and, sadly for the ladies, overwhelmingly negative.
Not one physician accepted the premise offered by Dunham and Sandberg. Nor could any ever conceive of a world where they’d go with a chick like that. Indeed, three mentioned they’d dump a woman with that kind of a notch count the minute they found out, even if they were in a serious relationship, an immediate termination that anecdotally seems to be happening a lot.
The chart of our results looks like this. Note that as the results were unanimous, there is no call for a p-value or confidence interval here.
With such an overwhelming result, the question becomes one of reproducibility. It’s possible that New York City, where Dunham and Schumer are located, has an oversupply of physicians who lack self-respect. NYU Med, after all, isn’t quite on a par with Johns Hopkins. Still, “Doctor” is the most respected profession out there. Perhaps before women are advised to blithely throw their futures away on casual encounters they find deeply unsatisfying, someone should consult Docs up there and see what their opinion is.