Words I Hate Because of The Internet

This dude right here. Joe "Pimpin' Ain't Easy But Somebody's Gotta Do It" Namath

This dude right here. Joe “Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy But Somebody’s Gotta Do It” Namath

First things first, shout outs to the Seattle Seahawks who put THE most tremendous asswhippin’ on the Denver Broncos at the Super Bowl. Good googly moogly. In a bout of “that’s what she said” that D held it down like none other. Despite the title of this post, the gifs and memes I saw at the expense of Peyton Manning and the Broncos definitely made my evening. Congrats to the Legion of Boom and the 12th Man.

Oh, Internet, how I love and hate thee. While the Internet might be the place where baskets full of kittens reside and where the people who created the Irish Springs smell all met, it’s also the holding cell for some of the worst denizens of humanity. Now don’t get me wrong, I love doing hoodrat things with my friends just like everybody else so I do have a certain ironic appreciation for the worst of times, you know, Ishmael and all.



Moving on. Since I spend so much time on the ‘nets (no Brooklyn) reading and engaging and putting rings on things in the way of likes, comments, and up, up for the downvote, I have come to realize that there are certain terms, ideas, and phrases that have come to annoy the living f*ck out of me on the Internet. It’s not because the words themselves are a problem, it’s because they’ve been debated, dispuated, hated and viewed in America by so many folks that I get lost in the sauce. And because I don’t trust things I don’t understand and since I found Jesus next to my love in a hopeless place, well, I figured I’d share with you the words I current hate because of the Internet.

Ready, set, go.

1. Thirst/Thirst trap

Amazingly, because the Internet has over used the concept of a thirst trap so much, I find myself using the term…though usually in the most non-sensical way possible. For instance, I’ll be at church and the pastor will say “Jesus saves” and I’ll say, “yeah, Jesus was thirst trappin’.” Okay, that’s not true, I wasn’t in church when I said that. Point is, the terms “thirst” “thirst trap” have become SO overrused via people everywhere that I’ve started to hate their existence. A lot. EVERYTHING IS NOT A DAMN THIRST TRAP.

2. Theory

Can we rap a taste? Cool. I’m so gotdamn tired of people positing their “theories” about everything. Just because you have a thought doesn’t mean you have a theory. Though I suppose every idea that you have about why something happens is technically a theory. Somehow, Twitter is amiss with everybody and their damn theories about theories. I’ve got a theory that your theory is wrong my ninja. Stop theorizing. Theoretically, I’m just over people and their damn theories. Can we come up with a new word or something for “people on the internet thinking?” Please, for the love of the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria.

Do you all realize that Christopher Columbus was ridin’ around with that Nina?


These are the jokes folks. I’m here every Tuesday.

3. Rape culture

This is a touchy one, but creep with me. Pun. I had NEVER heard the term rape culture until it became one of the most ubiquitous terms ANYWHERE online to discuss boys behaving badly. And to be clearly, boys do behave badly. But I think it started to get taken too far. I’m almost surprised that Richard Sherman’s rant heard ’round the world didn’t SOMEHOW get turned into a discussion of rape culture. And I’m so dead serious. I’m not saying it doesn’t exist – there clearly is a rape culture that’s probably not had such a defining term attached to it before – but there was a time on the Internet where tossing the word rape culture a littering didn’t seem far fetched. Seriously.

4. Feminism

I said it before so I won’t go too deep here, but again, the idea and concept of feminism has been SO skewered by the Internets that I’m at the point of (perhaps convenient) disdain for it. The term, not the movement. Women’s rights and equality. I’m for that sh*t.

5. Narrative

I HATE the idea of everything as a narrative. But when you read as many stories online about n*ggas theories on things such as feminism, and rape culture, well, the word narrative shows up pretty much EVERY time. Everything gets devolved into a narrative of something or other now. Goldie Locks and the 3 Bears isn’t just a fairy tale, its a narrative that speaks to the what the skinny white yoga girl was alluding to the other day…and my next one…

6. White privilege

It clearly exists, but I think some folks concept of white privilege may not be as fine tuned as we think. Just saying, the next 10 times I hear the term white privilege in terms of somebody getting that last Coke out the machine will be…well, the next 10 times.

You know, I really should have titled this post: My Theory about the Narrative of The Effects of Rape Culture, Feminism and the Thirst of White Privelege.

Except then I’d have to blow my brains out. Fight me.

So, are there any words or terms you now hate because of the Internet?

Talk to me.


What “Game” Really Says About Women (…And Why So Many Of Them Hate It)

Once you get past all the VSB-related sites, the news sites, the sports/basketball sites, the sites I work for, and the sites with, um, mature content, a quick glance at my most frequently visited websites would show two places — Jezebel and Chateau Heartiste — that seem to be polar opposites of each other. Actually, “polar opposites” is too kind. They’d be the internet’s equivalent of Neo and Agent Smith, of Bill and the Bride, of Rick Ross and celery — entities devoted to each other’s demise.

Despite this stark contrast — and despite the fact that both tend to harbor views much, much, more extreme than mine — I’m a fan of both sites because they both feature very talented writers who are unafraid of being transparent with their agendas and are clearly having fun while they’re writing. Basically, while I get bored at most of the places I find on the internet, I don’t get bored at Jezebel or Chateau Heartiste.

Anyway, if you read enough content at each of these sites, you’ll see that much of their contempt for each other has to do with the concept of “game” roughly defined as a set of rules devised to help men approach, attract, and seduce women. Those in the “manosphere”/PUA (Pick-up artist) community believe in it (and the evolutionary psychology it stems from), while those who lean feminist think it’s useless, dangerous, and basically teaches men how to be creeps and rapists.

A recent article at Slate.com attempted to tackle this issue. Titled “Why Are Women So Negative About the “Pickup Artist” Community?” Gayle Laakmann McDowell addressed the main issues women seem to have with “game” and the people who teach and/or practice it.

I’m 5-foot-9, and I’m just not going to go home with a guy who is 5-foot-3, goes by the nickname “Snake” (seriously?!?), and is overweight, and pimply, and won’t just answer a direct question about what he does for a living. But he keeps pursuing because, well, “I’m just playing games with him.” I’m trying to see if he passes some test, apparently.

These are the sort of repeated interactions I had with guys in the PUA community, and why I got turned against it. Once upon a time, this guy might have been a perfectly normal but nerdy guy, who could have dated online, met someone nice, got married, and been perfectly happy.

PUA instruction turns awkward, nerdy guys who just want a girlfriend into creepy guys who harass and insult women. And that’s not OK!

PUA instruction teaches guys these mechanical ways of interacting with women that don’t really work and fails to recognize that every woman is different. Some women just won’t go home with you. Sorry. Maybe she’s out of your league. Or maybe she’s just not interested in you. Or maybe she just doesn’t go home with random dudes from bars.

The words coming out of a woman’s mouth? It’s not all a game. You can have actual conversations with us. When I say “What do you do for a living?” it’s because I actually care. Because I’m looking for someone to build a relationship with, and someone with no career goals is not a good match for me. Answer the question.

Her first couple paragraphs touch on the most common critique of game and the PUA community, that it makes men think they can approach any woman, even those who are completely (and obviously) out of their league. Instead of attempting to “stay at their pay grades,” it gives male threes the confidence to think that female eight and nines will go home with them if they play their cards right.

But, while I guess I can see how frustrating it could be for a woman getting continually hit on by men she’s not even close to being attracted to, how does a guy know he has no chance unless he actually tries? Lemme answer that for you. He doesn’t. And, for a man, asking and being wrong is always — always — going to be better than not even trying and not knowing.

That being said, I think the main issue that (many) women have with game isn’t about the men who practice it as much as the concept of game itself, something Laakmann McDowell touches on towards the end of the article. As I mentioned upthread, game is roughly defined as a set of rules devised to help men approach, attract, and seduce women.

Thing is, if game is actually a valid and highly applicable concept, it also means that something else must be true, something (most) women have fought against and will continue to fight against, well, forever — women aren’t as special and unique as they think they are.

Game theory argues that what worked on Sally in Sacramento will also work, with some slight variations, on Patricia in Pennsylvania, Ruth in Russia, and Betty in Botswana. If this is true, if all it takes is a couple relatively easy rules to remember to exponentially help your dating and mating prospects with every woman, then — aside from some physical characteristics — women just really aren’t all that different from each other. And, if women just really aren’t all that different from each other, they’re disposable and easily replaceable. (You know who else is generally thought to be disposable and easily replaceable? Men.)

Now, I’m sure you’ve noticed that I haven’t really offered any opinion yet on whether I think game theory is valid. This is intentional. Why? Well, I honestly don’t know the answer to that question.

While I don’t believe that women are all the same — and, every time I get to know a woman, I receive tangible proof of this uniqueness — I do know that, every single time I’ve been a little more assertive, a little cockier, a little more direct, a little more “alpha,” and a little less pressed when speaking to a woman (basically, adopting an attitude of “I’m interested in you, but I’m not impressed by you. At all.“), I’ve gotten more rhythm than when I was less sure of myself. Every. single. time.

You know, perhaps the reason why game theory seems so, well, creepy is that it distills the art of courtship and seduction — romance, basically — until it becomes a science; turning certain qualities that we (men and women) assume are organic into something that can be studied, copied, and ultimately faked. A cheat sheet for a phenomenon we thought was impervious to cheating.

Maybe game theory does actually work. Anecdotal as it may be, my evidence tells me this may be true. But, as much as it may help to get a woman interested in you, it doesn’t seem to say very much about the most important part — keeping her interested. And, to keep a woman interested, it does help to actually (gasp!) learn shit about her.

Not to get all Romney all you, but perhaps the reason why the manosphere and the feminists don’t see eye to eye is that they’re both wrong and right at the same time.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

A Conversation About Men, Male Behavior, Feminism, Fear, and Bacon (Yes. Bacon)

A couple weekends ago, I went out with a group of a dozen or so people to celebrate my homegirl’s birthday. And, as people in the greater Pittsburgh-area are wont to do after a night of drunken, WorldStarHipHop-worthy ratchetness, we went to Eat & Park afterwards to soak up our alcohol with pancakes and half-assed cheese eggs.

While most others usually opt for the menu food, I always choose to buy the breakfast buffet; a vast decrease in quality, but, when it’s 3:13am, quantity has a way of making you not give a f*ck.

There were so many of us there (I’m guessing 15) that the server put three tables together to accommodate all of us. And, since I was the only one who chose the buffet food, it meant…

A) I would be the only one eating food for the next 15 minutes.

B) I’d have to fight off a clawing pack of drunken and hungry zombies every time I returned to the table from the buffet.

The second part actually became a bit of a running joke. I’d go to the buffet, return with some bacon, and I’d have to smack the hands of my friends away as they tried to grab a slice. Sometimes I was successful in guarding my bacon, and sometimes the bacon zombies would get me. (I know this doesn’t sound like a very fun game to play, but we were all five exits past drunk, and the bacon game happened to be the funniest thing on Earth at the time. Only God can judge me.)

Anyway, although the table was filled with people who all were at the party I was just at, I didn’t know a couple of the people sitting at the other end of the table. I’m bringing this up because all the fun and games stopped when, while returning to the table after one of my bacon runs, one of these unfamiliar hands reached and attempted to grab the food on my plate.

When I made it back to my seat, I called this person out, asking what the f*ck was wrong with them (I think my exact words were “What the f*ck is wrong with you? I don’t know you, n*gga“), and basically put a slight damper on the mood.

(In hindsight, it was funny remembering the reactions of the people sitting around me, their expressions going from “Wait, Champ’s not serious, is he?” to “Um, yeah, he’s serious. This is getting uncomfortable. And entertaining. This is uncomfortably entertaining” and finally landing on “Wait, um, we’re not able to witness a couple dudes in suits fight over some bacon, are we?“)

I eventually forgave this person for their indiscretion. (We actually stood up and shook each other’s hands) The next day, as I was reflecting on the evening and remembering exactly how ridiculous that near fight was, it dawned on me that none of that would have happened if he was a woman.

You see, I was perfectly cool playing the bacon game with the people sitting close to me — all women that I knew. In fact, even if dude had been a woman I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have reacted the same way. I probably would have laughed, flirted, or perhaps even tried to steal some food off her plate when it finally came. But, because he was a guy doing something that guys aren’t supposed to do to other guys, it pissed me off enough to have the following absurd exchange with him

“Where are you from?” 

“Don’t worry about where I’m from. I’m from a place where n*ggas don’t take food off of n*ggas they don’t know plates.” 

(I apparently say n*gga a lot when I’m drunk and/or angry. Perhaps there’s another post in there somewhere)

If you’re still reading, you’re probably wondering what the hell a story about two drunk men having a pissing contest over some soggy bacon has to do with feminism, a concept defined as a collection of movements aimed at defining, establishing, and defending equal political, economic, and social rights for women.

Actually, that definition is a bit too bulky to work with. I prefer the one coined by Cheris Kramarae

“Feminism is the radical notion that women are human beings.”

Regardless of how you choose to define it, feminism has some roots in the idea that (most) men, even (most) well-intentioned men, don’t regard women with the same respect we do other men.

Thing is, as shitty as men historically have been and currently still are to women, we are pretty much just as shitty (if not shittier) to men.

As history continues to prove, men will regularly intimidate, embarrass, ridicule, mock, taunt, dominate, and even sexually humiliate other men if given the opportunity.

Think about this: Wherever you’re currently reading this, you’re at a place that was “founded” some time ago as a result of a group of men invading the land of a weaker group of men and subsequently murdering and colonizing them.

Even many “educated” and “domesticated” men still regularly do this in their own way. For instance, as ridiculous as that bacon story sounded, most men reading it probably laughed at first and then thought to themselves “You know what? I probably would have reacted the same way The Champ did.” 

Why? Well, although it may have seemed innocent, that guy reaching on my plate was his way of attempting to assert some dominance over me. His fat ass didn’t want any bacon, but he did want everyone to see him taking a slice of bacon off my plate — alpha male-ing me, in a sense.

I (over) reacted the way I did because, frankly, I wanted him to be scared. Not pissing in his pants scared, but “Hmm. This guy’s tone and body language suggests that there’s a possibility that he might actually get up and punch me in the face. It’s a slight chance, but still. Perhaps I should apologize to him.” scared.

Most people would probably consider bacon boy’s act a violation of some “man code” or some other unspoken kinship between men. While this is true, the creation of “man codes” aren’t really about any male kinship or spiritual brotherhoods or anything like that. We have these rules of decorum when dealing with each other because of fear of possible physical danger, and we treat each other with this tenuous respect because there’s always the possibility that we might get our ass kicked if we don’t.

Now, I’m (obviously) no feminist scholar, but it seems like the root cause behind man’s historically unjust treatment of women has something to do with the control and suppression of female sexuality and sexual freedom. It also seems like the only reason why (many) men are “nicer” to women than they are to other men is because they want sexual access to them, and getting women to agree to want to be with you is the socially acceptable way of gaining this access.

I don’t want to believe that the only things motivating us to be kind to each other are fear and sex, but history and any read of any newspaper continues to prove that this may be true. Am I completely off-base here, or are we (men) too f*cked up to evolve to a point where the majority of things the majority of men do are done, not because we can do them or can get away with doing them, but because they’re just the right and just things to do?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

the battle of the sex-less

we all know this woman.

she could be your closest friend.

your district manager.

your neighbor.

your mother-in-law.

your classmate.

your co-worker.

regardless of which role she happens to play, after spending some time with her, you have no problem whatsoever recognizing, examining, and outlining her problem; a problem so resonate that it effects her entire being, a problem that permeates everything and everyone around her, leaving those who’ve been in her fallout area left with no choice but to utter those same fateful six words underneath their breath:

“can somebody f*ck her soon, please????????”

from the “taming of the shrew” to “pre-early 2008 renaissance” condoleezza rice (btw, condi’s makeover from branmuffinhead to potential milf after several rum and cokes has to be one of the single most spellbounding stories of 2008.), the idea and existence of a woman universally thought to be in dire need of some d*ck is as old and dry as ***insert perfunctory joke about random vsb-er***.

(asexual no more)

although this may seem harsh, we all know a few chicks whose general demeanor and countenance would be legions better if, while they were pulling overtime duty at the office tuesday night, counting typos in everyone’s emails or some other excessively anal endeavor, some masked mandingo broke in, bent her over the trashbin in the breakroom, tied her hands to the blender, and blew her back out like bob backlund. if you don’t know any of these chicks, sorry hun. its probably you.

because we feel that a “satisfied” female populace makes the world much safer and much more fun, the champ has decided to give you all four definite signs that a woman needs some soon

she voluntarily works over 60 hours a week

i’m not referring to the person who has to work 12 hour days to put food on the table or to keep their business afloat, but nothing says “get her some serious wang, stat!!!” like a woman who’s a workaholic for no reason. if you interpret this as sexist or slightly misogynistic, hmmm….it looks like someone’s mouth needs some manmeatoh well. i’m the champ and you’re not. deal with it

everyone is always trying to hook her up with someone

when you mom, your co-workers, your ex-boyfriend, your neighbors, your girls, the people you know at church, the crazy mocha weekend barista, your nephews barber, and the family of that guy you hit with your car in 1998 are all always trying to “hook you up” with people they know, it has nothing to do with their altruism or their compassion or their loathe to see a “decent woman” by herself, and everything to do with the fact that your air of “coituslessness” is emitting from your body, infecting everyone and everything within a 20 foot radius, and they’re tired of it and ready for a change.

also, when this occurs, they’re usually three steps away from murdering you. its that serious

during “outings” with her girls, she keeps tabs on who does or doesn’t show up

i wasn’t aware that some women actually did this until a few years ago, when one of my exes informed me that she needed to go to this morning miniature golf outing her girls were having (she had some weird ass girls, btw), because she had missed the last one.

apparently, if she missed two in a row, one of the organizers of this outing would probably send her a snarky email/text “questioning her focus as a friend

***btw, this “organizer” was also nicknamed “t-mac” because of her terry mcmillan stan-dom and her odd resemblance to tracy mcgrady.***

when i asked a couple women i knew about this phenomenon, they each remarked that this is common. at least one member of their circle of friends keeps mental event attendance tabs. this person is also usually the one who’s gone the longest without someone “poppin her pepsi can”

she’s a militant black woman who has recently (within five years) graduated from college.

if i were a mathematician, in this space i would have placed the results of an inferential statistical study detailing the correlation between ultra-dogmatic militantism and lack of non-solo induced orgasms. since i’m not a mathematician, i’ll just say that, without fail, EVERY ultra militant recent college grad i’ve ever known (and i’ve known dozens) changed her tune considerably after she got some consistent gotdamn. every. 100 percent.

i guess its tough to memorize and recite jessica care moore with a wang in your mouth.

people of vsb.com, its your patriotic duty to make sure that the sexless women in your life get some sex, that the wang-less get some wang, that the healthy backed get them broke before the end of the calender year. the world is counting on you. don’t let your people or your champ down.

—the champ

the sad tale of the BAB: three signs that you might be a bitter-a** bastard

the official drink of the BAB

the official drink of the BAB

from the real world’s BBC (big breasted coral) to omarosa manigault-stallworth, the image of the “angry educated black woman” has become a fixture in modern day american culture. studied, discussed, debated, and caricatured, you almost can’t escape a day without reading some blog or watching some special focused on angry educated black women’s views on dating, racism, sexism or kim kardashian.

thing is, the non-stop attention paid to these belligerent and bookish broads has caused us to overlook and ignore a growing contingent in our communities, a group thats still growing like chinese gymnasts and spreading like the legs of vsb.com groupies california wildfires, the bitter-a** bastard.

acrimonious men who have allowed a few real or perceived minor slights to vindicate their displeasure with womanhood in general, there are bitter-a** bastards walking among us and angrily insisting dutch first dates as we speak, and and its our duty to locate and brand them before they continue to poison the already misty dating pool

so, without further ado, here’s three signs that you might be a bitter-a** bastard (BAB)

1. you’re proudly unchivalrous.

there’s nothing else that screams “i’m a bitter a** bastard” louder than a grown ass man who’s practically excited to get the opportunity to let everyone else know all the simple-ass sh*t they’d never do for a woman.

“pay for dinner??? trick, please. what i look like buying you appetizers and water and sh*t when you don’t even swallow??? plus, you make like 31g’s a year!!! you’re telling me you can’t afford to buy your own damn ice tea???”

look, i understand that it’s 2008 and that acf (annoyingly convenient feminism) combined with the gains women have made in the workforce has made male and female interaction increasingly complex. plus, with all the diseased free panties running the streets nowadays, why walk the extra mile for some “undeserving” chick when you can run a train in your basement?

yet, despite whatever argument you conceive, there’s still no justifiable explanation being this way. part of being a grown-up man is doing the right thing without any expectation of acknowledgment or reward, but a typical BAB will voluntarily and happliy relinquish a crucial component of his own manhood just because some janky broad or two didn’t immediately fellate him when he gave up his seat for her on the train seven years ago.

2. scapegoating is your friend

BABs love scapegoating and pigeonholing more than crackheads love home depot. words such as “all” and “every” always seem to find a way into their sentences when speaking negatively about the opposite sex, a common practice used by folks so blinded by bitterness that they can’t see how foolish a statement such as “all black women with master’s degrees give terrible bj’s” really is. ****editors note: although, with this example, he might have a point****

3. bitter? me? hell no!!! not at all. I’m just a little more practical now, thats all”

theres nothing a BAB loathes more than actually admitting that he’s a BAB, a phenomenon which produces some of the most hilariously misguided attempts of synonym use known to man. from “practical” and “prudent” to “rational” and “realistic”, a typical BAB will have an endless supply of words and euphemisms that make his BAB-ness sound much less harsh

“i’m not bitter. far from it. i just tend to look at the entire idea of womankind in a perpetually jaundiced light, thats all.”

the first step in any type of healing process is acknowledging the fact that you actually do have a problem, but because BAB’s are typically reluctant to do this, its our patriotic duty to alert them ourselves. good people of vsb.com, its in your hands now.

i challenge you all to find one BAB today, look him dead in his beady eyes, and tell him to “man the hell up!!”. don’t let your country or your champ down.

–the champ