I really don't want to shame men for feeling anxious about dating trans women because I mean, I was anxious too in the other direction, but I do want to shame men for treating trans women like their dirty little secrets. And I do wanna shame men for dehumanizing us and voting away our rights by day, while jerking off to "shemale" porn by night. And I do wanna shame men for refusing to date us because they're not strong enough to shoulder one hundredth of the burden of stigma that every trans woman carries every moment of every day. I do wanna shame men for attacking their trans girlfriends because they couldn't stand being treated like a gay man for five minutes. That is pathetic! If you're so worried about proving you're a man, why don't you start by standing up for the women you love, you chickenshit cowards?

Cruelty generally cannot conceptualize itself as cruelty, and part of the reason for that is calling cruelty what it is takes the fun out of it. [...] Cruelty is only pleasurable as long as they're able to convince themselves it's something other than cruelty, "Justice served".

So when you reduce bigotry to a caricature of pure hatred you obscure that bigotry is a deeply human problem. [...] I believe that understanding bigots is the best defense against becoming one yourself because when you dehumanize the villains you become unable to recognize the villain within.

The most absurd thing about Roosh is that he doesn’t really seem to like sex very much. [...] It’s pretty clear that Roosh is not a hedonist. He is not pursuing pleasure. There’s an important distinction between a genuine voluptuary - someone like Casanova, who actually seems to like women and enjoy spending time with them - and a mere list-making maniac like Roosh or Don Giovanni.

[About Friedrich Nietzsche] You know I think it's interesting that a person this pathetic can also be a genius whose name will never die. He's someone who had a lot of reason to be envious and self-pitying, but his philosophy couldn't be more against that, and as a person of pathetic experience myself, that is unironically kind of inspiring to me.

It's possible to take genuine virtues like nuance, empathy, and impartiality, and to twist them into fucked up apologia for horrible, oppressive behavior. If you play this game long enough you can essentially explain away the entire concept of bigotry, and conclude that in reality there are no bigots, there's only tragically misunderstood people with difficult childhoods and valid concerns, cruelly demonized by militant activists defaming and silencing them with such reputation-ruining slurs as "homophobe".

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Children, if I have to crawl off the goddamn floor on the morning of November 4th, brush aside the empty wine bottles and pick up my phone to discover that Caligula Jackson is President For Life; I am going to chew my way through the bathroom tile and I will not stop until I reach the gates of Hell. [...] Don't make me eat my bathroom tile, children. There's probably asbestos in that tile, because America's so great even the floor is made of poison.

This catalogue aria [from Mozart’s Don Giovanni] is what a boring white weirdo named Kierkegaard called the most epic moment of the opera. It’s the moment that we learn that Don Giovanni is not just a predator, but that he’s actually fucking insane. He doesn’t care whether the women are young or old, beautiful or ugly, rich or poor, he seduces them all the same, just to satisfy his manic urge to add them to the list. In the 21st century there are men who are really like this. They’re called Pick-Up Artists, and they want you to buy their erotic memoirs.

It's boring and immature, like when someone says he wants to watch the world burn. You only get to watch when you have the privilege of not being on fire. It's edgy but it's not the darkness. The darkness is finding a way to laugh about being on fire.