The Only Thing More Depressing Than Planned MRA Meetup Is The Location Of Planned MRA Meetup
Oh, hi there! Sorry, I’m just about ready. See I came upon this headline in New York Magazine, and was just compiling all of the laughing and spit take gifs I’ll need to get through this post. Seems all around asshole Roosh V in the header up there has something big planned for this weekend, and I need to learn about it …. and finished. OK, let’s dive in.
Are you ready for “International Tribal Meetup Day”?
“Tribal”? Really? You really want to go with “Tribal”? You’re going to stick with that? Is that to reflect the wild and unruly nature of life for a 21st century man who has nothing to save him for the ravages of the modern world save his connection to a magic box which allows him to learn everything and communicate with anyone in the world? You’ve got wifi and you’re planning meet ups at local restaurants. You’re not heading out to hunt mastodons. But sure, let’s go with “Tribal.”
A few dozen men have signed up to organize local meetups. The plan is to meet in a public place around 8 p.m. local time and wait around for 20 minutes while other men cautiously approach and say the secret code phrase, and then move to a bar or something.
Why wouldn’t you just meet at the bar? Let’s really parse this out. One of the biggest complaints that MRAs have is that masculinity is under attack, and that women in general don’t appreciate the virtues that these very masculine men have to offer. We reject their advances because they’re “nice guys” and we would rather date assholes. So I can only imagine that the easiest way for these “tribesmen” to avoid notice is just to go to a fucking bar and hang out by themselves. You know, LIKE THE THING YOU COMPLAIN ABOUT HAPPENING EVERY OTHER FUCKING TIME YOU GO TO A BAR.
To identify your fellow tribesmen, ask the following question to a man you suspect is there for the meetup: “Do you know where I can find a pet shop?” If you are asked this question, answer in the affirmative: “Yes, it’s right here.” You can then introduce yourself and get details about where to proceed at 8:20. If you ask someone for the pet shop and they appear confused or actually try to direct you to a real pet shop, they’re not there for the meetup.
Oh, sure. I see what happened there. It’s a safety precaution. If you just put on the internet that a bunch of like-minded dudes were going to meet up and discuss their struggles, the bitches would show up to try to harsh your buzz. You can’t have that. So instead of listing the actual meet-up location, you’re only going to post the first location and the secret password. Like when you’ve got one of those decoy rocks with a spare key, and then you write “Decoy Rock With Spare Key” on the outside. Because these dudes are great at this covert shit.
But there must be a good reason that they would need this level of secrecy, right? It couldn’t possibly be that this persecution complex allows these in-almost-every-way-privileged dudes to paint themselves as the victims and thus blame any social or romantic shortcomings on evil feminazis instead of just dealing with the fact that if they want more people to like them they’ll need to learn to be more goddamn likable? Right?
But don’t worry. These MRA’s have their plan, they have their mission, and they’ve picked out the coolest, most meaningful spots to begin the revolution. Including:
Bangor, Maine: “Bangor Public Library, in front of main entrance below the stairs”
Rochester Hills, Michigan: “Elizabeth Park, beside center bush”
Redwood City, California: “Parking lot of IHOP”
San Antonio, Texas: “In front of main door of the Alamo”
Charlottesville, Virginia: “Lee Park, beside the statue of [Robert E.] Lee”
Novosibirsk, Russia: “Next to the statue of Vladimir Lenin on Lenin Square”
Seattle, Washington: “Statue of Lenin”
Phnom Penh, Cambodia: “The royal palace in front of main entrance”
Dubai, UAE: “Dubai Mall, in front of Tim Horton”
Boston, Massachusetts: “Paul Revere Statue in Paul Revere Mall”
That’s right. Watch out, IHOP parking lot in Redwood, CA. You’re about to get somehow even more depressing.
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