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raddest-things

It’s that time again, for our weekly Menstration, our highly subjective weekly roundup of the BAD and RAD from this week…It’s the Men’s Trait’s Raddest Person of the Week award.

Before I get into the nominees, how about a breakdown of our process? I typically get three or four nominees a week from readers. If you want to nominate someone, there are about 3 ways to reach us:

  1. You can submit nominees to our Facebook page.
  2. You can tweet us your nonimations at @MensTraitOnline or  @johnpsousa using the hashtag #MTRaddestPersonOftheWeek or #MTDBagOfTheWeek.
  3. You can email us at “editorial at 301digitalmedia dot com” with “MT D-Bag Of The Week Nominee” or “MT Raddest Thing of the Week” in the subject line.

Depending on the nominee, we’ll publish a post, and then we’ll keep track of them all week. Our staff then votes (sometimes after a vigorous Slack debate). So, you can submit items on people/things that were RAD or people/things that are BAD and we will break them down.

Raddest Person of the Week Nominee #1: Bill Murray and all Cubs fans

bill-murray

The Chicago Cubs ended a 108 year-long World Series drought on Wednesday in Cleveland. They came back from a 3 games to 1 deficit to beat the team from Cleveland, and pandemonium ensued. Bill Murray was involved, and the city of Chicago is throwing a massive parade and party today.

Also, this tweet was rad and Vox is full of shit:

 

 

Raddest Thing of the Week Nominee #2: Smoking Robots

Scientist invented a robot that smokes cigarettes to help them learn about and develop treatments for various lung diseases and also save rats from being placed in a smoke-filled box. I’ve written a lot about nerds who, instead of learning how to talk to people, invent sex robots so they can turn their VR fuckfests into exponentially more real fuckfests but still not real enough to include an actual, consenting person. And I joked that maybe they could combine the smoking robot with the sex robots and then they could light up a post-coital smoke.

Later that day, super reader Cross from the Bay Point Department of Carnival Safety sent me this article about talking sex robots with warm genitals. Let’s look at some quotes:

For $15,000, Levy says users will be able to buy sex robots with synthetic skin embedded with electronic sensors allowing them to respond to touch, the ability to talk back in a “sexy voice,” and heating elements so that they’ll be warm … all over.

That’s a lot of money.

Abyss Creations, which makes RealDolls, is supposedly at the forefront of this field, though there are numerous Asian companies making major advances of their own. Matt McMullen, the founder and CEO of Abyss Creations said his vision for the future of sex robots involved emotional attachment.

“I want to have people actually develop an emotional attachment to not only the robot but the actual character behind it,” McMullen said. “To develop some kind of love for this being.”

I cannot be the only one who thinks of William and Dolores and actually all of the orgy robots on Westworld. I, for one, can’t wait to be plugged into the Matrix.

Men’s Trait D-bag of the Week Update: Creepy Clowns

We’ve been covering the Clown Menace for some time here at Men’s Trait. There were the initial reports of clowns in the Carolinas, and then they spread across the Southeast. Then Batman started fighting back in England, and this produced a Clown Lives Matter movement. Well, it looks like this is spreading into continental Europe from the British Isles, and man, the fucking Germans do not play:

…a teenager in Berlin was stabbed while trying to scare his friends.

The victim, age 16, had put on a clown mask and was threatening a group his friends with a hammer when a younger boy, 14, pulled out a pocket knife and stabbed him in the chest. The group then discovered that they knew the boy.

The group administered first aid until an ambulance arrived on the scene and took the boy to the hospital for treatment. There is no word yet as to his condition.

Raddest Thing of the Week #3: Ask Angela

angela

A town in England has started putting up posters in the ladies rooms of bars, informing any woman who’s on a date with a creep or feels unsafe at a bar because some alpha is negging too hard, to go to the bar and ask for “Angela.” This is code for “please get me the fuck out of here.”

Coming soon: an MRA version for Dave Hon when he accidentally finds himself on a date with a feminist, he can go to the bar and ask for “redPill_SteVe.Deplorable” with a tip of the old Fedora, and they’ll immediately rush him to a safe space full of warm sex robots for a cyber fuckfest.

Men’s Trait’s Raddest Thing of the Week: Laser ignited fart and Jacuzzi of Despair

jacuzzi-of-despair

There were a couple of incredible headlines this week. “Patient burned by mid-surgery explosion when laser ignites fart,” is one. “Scientists Find A ‘Jacuzzi Of Despair’ In Gulf Of Mexico,” was the other.

Both of these started me down weird trips of nostalgia, not all of it pleasant. In the first case I remembered the time I lit my farts with matches during a sleepover with a friend who grew up to be a meth-addled sex offender. The 2nd, which I didn’t write about at the time but will now, was also bittersweet. And no, it’s not just because the term “Jacuzzi of Despair” reminds me of Jerry Jones’ 12-person hot tub shaped like Texas Stadium.

That’s right.

It reminds me of my dad. He used to tell what we called “Viagra Stories,” which is exactly what they sound like: stories about taking Viagra. They’d always start the same way, like, “Hey Johnny, did you ever take Viagra?” I was in my mid-20s at the time and hadn’t taken any (still haven’t, thanks for asking, but who knows it might come in handy some day). Anyway, I’d say, “Nah,” and then he’d say, “Oh shit, you gotta try it. Have you ever been so hard a cat couldn’t scratch it?” Or he’d say, “Willie was so hard I was chasing your mom around the house for 45 minutes and tripped over the dog four times and nothing put a dent in it.”

My favorite was, “Hey Johnny, have you ever been in a hot tub with 3 Swedish airline stewardesses and an 8-ball of really good, Colombian cocaine?”

The answer was no, obviously, because that isn’t a thing that happens to people not in Mötley Crüe.

Anyway, he would usually say this while sitting in a hot tub. In fact, I think that’s the only time he told that version of the Viagra Story, except for maybe once at Thanksgiving.

What I’m getting at is that basically I’m Proust with laser farts and hot tubs instead of madeleines.  And I should probably call him, see if he has any new Viagra Stories.

Have a great weekend.

 

Satire

From the MRA Evidence Archives: The Journal of a Normal, Average Feminist

Awoke and whispered to my boobs, Bea Arthur and Jackie O, “It’s Tuesday. You know what that means, ladies? Time to oppress some dudes.”

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barbie doll head being gripped by dirty hands
THIS CONTENT WAS REPUBLISHED FROM AN EARLIER DATE.

 Tuesday July 5, 2016

Awoke and whispered to my boobs, Bea Arthur and Jackie O, “It’s Tuesday. You know what that means, ladies? Time to oppress some dudes.”

Walked to work wearing my plunging crop top that says, “This is what a feminist looks like,” hot pants, and six-inch heels. Tossed my hair a lot and sexily chewed my lower lip. Dropped change so I could slowly bend over and pick it up. It took me about an hour to walk five blocks, which is standard.

Exceeded my catcall goal by seven, a personal best. Super flattering, of course, but will pretend to be terrified and make men feel bad about it with a bunch of tweets. That’ll show them.

Some dowdy librarian tried to help me with the change I kept dropping, and she got catcalled too! No one invades my catcalling turf. Slapped the books right out of her hands. Mostly by Hemingway, whom I both hate and would totally do if he were alive.

Arrived late per usual, but the boss didn’t say anything, just stared at my tits and gave me a pass. I had buttressed Bea Arthur and Jackie O in a push-up bra stuffed with the hard-earned cash of some beta male I cheated on. Good thinking.

By Friday I hope to a) screw my way to executive assistant, b) replace some poor slob who works really hard, or c) file a sexual harassment lawsuit. We’ll just see what the week brings, like whether or not the boss is a lesbian. Fingers crossed!

Spent the rest of the workday playing Candy Crush and convincing Dale from accounting to do everything for me. Stringing Dale along is why I keep coming in. It makes all the pretending to work worth it. I might boink him someday, but I want to see how low he’ll stoop for a bit of action.

I don’t get off on it per se, in so much that I don’t get off. Ever. At all. But I pretend that I could, just to make all the guys I’ve ever been with feel like losers. Watching them fumble and feel emasculated without pants is like Christmas – if I were to sleep with Santa and watch him fumble and feel emasculated without pants.

mens-rights-venn-diagram

Went to happy hour after work and didn’t pay a dime. Cosmos just appeared in front of me. Dumb guys just handed me cash for being hot, and I filled my bra until Bea Arthur and Jackie O ballooned up like the boobs of evil women on TV. My role models, natch.

Some dude wearing a huge, purple hat came up to me and said I looked like an uglier Angelina Jolie. He lifted his shirt to show that his torso was hard, rippling, and embroidered with diamonds so he had every right to tell me that. I hooked up with him in the men’s room. That’ll show him.

Went home and let loose a series of drunken, liar tweets about how hard my life is and how I want equality. Even inebriated, it’s important to keep my stilettoed foot on the neck of men everywhere. Those tweets and opinion pieces just skewer them. More powerful than the laws of God or man are the messages I hastily type with my thumbs.

A good Tuesday over all, but did not receive free coffee by sexily slow jamming my order. The barista must’ve taken the red pill.

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Food

Woman begs city council to bring back McRib

The McRib Shortage of ’15. It was the single greatest tragedy this country has ever endured. But one woman, one brave voice, said, “No. This will not do.” #mcrib #sheslovinit

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mcrib-woman

Well over a year ago a tragic event occurred: In the fall of 2015, the executives of McDonald’s made a grave decision, the consequences of which are still felt to this day. They decided that when the McRib was released that year it would… it would allow the regional managers to decide whether or not they would offer the McRib. As a result, a staggering 45 percent of McDonald’s locations elected not to offer the McRib. It was the single greatest tragedy this country has ever endured. But one woman, one brave voice, said, “No. This will not do.”

First off, shout out to Reader James from Lake Elsinore, CA for alerting us to the tale of hardship and heroism. You see, when Xanthe Pajarillo, a “McRib activist,” realized that none of the ten McDonald’s locations in her hometown of Santa Clarita would be offering the McRib, she did what any reasonable red-blooded American citizen would do. She brought the issue before the city council.

Now it is no secret that the McRib Shortage of ’15 nearly brought the nation to a standstill. In fact, if it weren’t for the release of a special McRib locator app, experts speculate that America would have ceased to exist as it does today. But amidst all of the rolling blackouts, the deaths, and the riots, we overlooked all of the smaller, personal tragedies that took place because of the cruel decision made by nearly half of McDonald’s regional managers.

In her impassioned plea to the Santa Clarita city council, Pajarillo explained just why the McRib meant so much to her and her family, and why the city council had to act in order to bring it back.

“The removal of the McRib from the menu has affected my family, because every Thanksgiving, my family would, like, order a 50-piece chicken McNugget and like, 10 McRibs. It was like, a tradition in our family, and now it’s like—well, like my family’s holiday spirit is kind of messed up and broken.”

Recently Pajarillo heroic speech before the city council has gone viral, gaining attention at the national stage across social media. Since that dramatic event, Pajarillo has continued to fight for the return of the McRib, even going so far as to release a song dubbed “The McRib Blues.” In it, she lays bare her soul and the souls of those like her to whom the McRib is more than just a barbecue pork sandwich, but is instead, a way of life.

There are those out there, deplorables who hardly deserve mention, that call her bravery nothing more than a stunt. Performance art holding up a mirror to America’s consumerism and obsession. However, others stand by the truth. Pajarillo is a hero, fighting for both a sandwich, but also for something more. Something ephemeral. That little piece of Americana that brings us all together. The McRib.

Fight on, brave warrior, fight on.

♪ Cause we have right to eat what we like, McRib is worth the fight ♪

Still can’t get enough of the McRib? Learn how a McRib is made, courtesy of BuzzFeed.

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Humor

Raddest Things of the Week: Dabbing on Paul Ryan and Jack in the Box tacos

Welcome back, Men’s Traitors. Happy New Year! For the first time in 2017 we’re kicking off our weekly Menstration, our highly subjective weekly roundup of the BAD and RAD from this week.

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Jack in the Box taco
raddest things

Image: This is so rad

Welcome back, Men’s Traitors. Happy New Year! For the first time in 2017 we’re kicking off our weekly Menstration, our highly subjective weekly roundup of the BAD and RAD from this week…It’s the Men’s Trait’s Raddest Things of the Week award.

Before I get into the nominees, how about a breakdown of our process? We get hundreds of nominees per week from readers. If you want to nominate someone, there are about 3 ways to reach us:

  1. You can submit nominees to our Facebook page.
  2. You can tweet us your nonimations at @MensTraitOnline or  @johnpsousa using the hashtag #MTRaddestPersonOftheWeek or #MTDBagOfTheWeek.
  3. You can email us at “editorial at 301digitalmedia dot com” with “MT D-Bag Of The Week Nominee” or “MT Raddest Things of the Week” in the subject line.

Depending on the nominee, we’ll publish a post, and then we’ll keep track of them all week. Our staff then votes (sometimes after a vigorous Slack debate). So, you can submit items on people/things that were RAD or people/things that are BAD and we will break them down.

 Raddest Thing of the Week #1: NFL Playoffs

That’s right Jim, Playoffs! This is bittersweet for me, because I’m a Raiders fan. We haven’t been in the playoffs since we lost Super Bowl XXXVII to the Buccaneers. And here comes this year, we’re 12-4 but I’m miserable, because our best player, Derek Carr, who I may or may not want to leave my family and get an apartment with, broke his leg. I miss his leadership. I miss his musk. Anyway, tomorrow afternoon we play Houston in the Wild Card round, and our starting quarterback is a rookie starting his first ever game. Luckily, the Texans quarterback is Brock Osweiler, AKA Broke Assweiler. Khalil Mack is gonna sack the shit out of him and we might just survive to get run by the Patriots next week. Good times.

Raddest Dog of the Week: Scarface

Scarface the dog

Image: Twitter

Originally we’d planned to make his owner, Florida Woman Brenda Guerrero, our first D-bag of the Week of 2017, and she was obviously our first nominee. But we decided to honor Scarface the Pit Bull, the dog upon whom Brenda and her dipshit husband tried to put a stupid sweater. Scarface reacted accordingly and mauled the shit out of them. Good dog, Scarface.

D-bag of the Week Nominee #1: Baynard Woods

Baynard Woods wrote an essay for Vox in their “First Person” section, which, according to the description, is “Vox’s home for compelling, provocative narrative essays.” You may recognize “First Person” as the place where you read about the assholes who live like Victorians. Woods fires up his trusty Selectra and wrote a long essay about getting a vasectomy.

You’d think a dude getting a vasectomy wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Hundreds of thousands of men get them every year. And there’s only one reason for a dude to get a vasectomy, and that’s because he doesn’t want any kids. Or any more kids. But either way, the whole point of a vasectomy is to prevent getting someone pregnant.

So obviously, we know why Baynard Woods wanted a vasectomy, he doesn’t want any kids. But Baynard Woods and his wife don’t have any kids yet, and don’t ever want kids. So he got a vasectomy. I’m still trying to figure out why this couldn’t have been communicated via Tweet instead of a 4000 word essay about a hipsters nuts getting snipped.

Let’s take a look at some choice excerpts, shall we?

In the section, “How my wife and I knew we didn’t want to have children,” we get our first clue about what kind of people we are dealing with:

We have family meetings and hash out all the pros and cons and then make a decision and do not waver from it. We used to start the meetings playing instruments and singing “Boil the Cabbage Down” and end them with “I Shall Not Be Moved.”

Sounds awesome.

My wife, who is marked as “President” of the family on the cover of the red notebook, did not like playing music — my first big husbandly mistake was buying her the mandolin that I wanted her to play — and soon nixed the musical ritual.

I wish she was writing this essay. She probably could have explained it in a tweet. Like, “Baynard got a vasectomy because we don’t want kids kthanksbai.”

Neither of us are particularly attached to our own genes. We don’t need to see ourselves or each other reflected in some small face.

Every essay by people who don’t want kids includes some condescending shit like this. Like parents are narcissists who only reproduce to live vicariously through their spawn. Okay, some parents are like that, but most of the time they’re too busy cleaning that small face, or arguing with that small face about which goddam spoon they want to use at dinner to see anything reflected in that face but deep, soul-crushing regret.

We don’t own a car, we rent an apartment in downtown Baltimore (with no interest in owning), and not having a kid seems like another way to reduce our carbon footprint.

If that “Boil the Cabbage Down” shit wasn’t enough to convince you that this was hipster solipsism, then this shit about not having a car and renting should convince you.

He then goes through some boilerplate people trying to convince him he’s wrong and then we get to my favorite part.

To make it worse, I have a deeply pessimistic view of the long-term future. I suspect that within the next couple of generations, some catastrophe will wipe out millions, if not billions, of people. If not my children, then my grandchildren will either be cannibals or be eaten by cannibals.

LOL.

My wife disagreed with me on this point. She believed in the goodness of people and the idea of progress, that there is a moral arc to the universe. Her desire not to have children was not as motivated by fear as mine — at least until after the election of Donald Trump.

Oh God. Now this is turning into my Facebook feed of the last 8 weeks or so, all the people who live in “Blue States” (I love you all!) who see people in flyover country as cannibals. Jesus Christ.

(Another friend, a woman, texted me to say, “I remember u telling me once about not wanting to have kids because our world is gonna be like a Cormac McCarthy book. I agree. And that makes me sad.”)

Texting! Also Cormac McCarthy is unreadable.

The essay then gets into the only really compelling and important point, which is that the burden of birth control falls disproportionately on women, and he wanted to give his wife a break from a lifetime of hormonal birth control. This is good and admirable, and if the essay had been a blog post about this part I would not be spending so much time giving Baynard Woods so much shit.

Anyway you get the point, read it if you like.

D-bag of the Week: Facebook Live Torture Porn

Oh man Wednesday. You may have seen it live or read about it sense, but Jesus Christ was this awful. A group of 4 African Americans kidnapped and tortured a mentally disabled white guy while screaming “Fuck white people” and “Fuck Donald Trump.”

The four have been charged with hate crimes in addition to kidnapping and torture, as they should have been. But now the usual subjects can claim that white people and Trump supporters are in danger from Black Lives Matter thugs.

Good job, good effort, gang.

Anyway back to the Rad Stuff.

Raddest Thing of the Week Nominee #2: Jack in the Box Tacos

jack-in-the-box-tacos

Image: John’s iPhone

Reader Brendan from Santa Monica brought this Wall Street Journal article about Jack in the Box tacos, “Americans Eat 554 Million Jack in the Box Tacos a Year, and No One Knows Why.” I’ll tell you why: they are cheap and delicious.

The filling is also of controversial provenance. My brother once asked the woman behind the counter of a Salinas Jack in the Box what kind of meat was in the tacos, and she said, “Carne de soy.” And it’s a widely held belief that the tacos are vegetarian, although there does appear to at least some beef in the mixture (also, guy, is it possible the employee didn’t purposely “mislead” you? Maybe fast food workers have shitty pay and training and she just didn’t know.).

Anyway in addition to the celebrity fans listed in the article, we also get news that hipster foodies are planning to create versions of the tacos with fancy ingredients that sell for $18 for 3. That misses the entire fucking point of Jack in the Box tacos, which is that they are 2 for $.99 (in Franklin, TN yesterday, they were actually 2 for $1.19).

Don’t fuck up a good thing.

Raddest Thing of the Week: The Cool Teen Dabbing on Paul Ryan

Paul Ryan gets dabbed on by cool teen

Image: CSPAN

Nice work son. Dab on them Fools. When you’re no longer grounded I hope you go out and get hella Jack in the Box tacos. You’ve earned them.

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