The Longer King Matt King

DJ A King Matt King Matt returns to that Dalrock thread with this whopper: (with my “Ed.” annotations:)

I commented on this latest thread to urge you to stop chasing phantom bogeymen.  And for that you fashioned me into yet another bogeyman for the Two Minutes Hate.  I’m flattered. [Ed.:  Girls do love attention] You insist every alien idea be personified into a villain, a symbol.  And then your ad hominem approach makes you believe an attack on the man refutes the idea.  This is a womanish tendency, to confuse the representatives of abstract principles with the principles themselves.

You are doing it wrong.  [Ed.: “It goes in the butt!”]

I won’t, can’t, don’t care to stop you, friends. [Ed.:  You care to, but you won’t because you can’t.  Also, “friends”??]  Your dedication to insider preciousness is more than I have the resources [Ed.:  Matt must’ve already granted Lend-Lease to the second wave feminists or something] or inclination to oppose.  [Ed.:  Will Matt use any precious diction or insider allusions through the course of this brief discourse?  Let’s wait and– no, we’ve already found out]  I can only exhort you to scrutinize messages rather than lambasting individual men.  [Ed.:  Matt to Earth:  Scrutinize my runes, I demand of you!]  Not because it’s more “fair” to them — I agree, [Ed.:  No you don’t] “Deserve’s got nothing to do with it” [Ed.:  Replaces Matthew Arnold quote Matt initially chose, because he reminded himself he needs to “present butch” now and then to throw off the scent of perfume]— but because it will ultimately help you be more persuasive [Ed:  Just like Matt!] among the 99.98% outside of your super-sub-niche choir. [Ed.:  Projection:  Matt is a member of the ultimate super-sub-niche choir, the choir of King Matt King.  Membership:  one.] You mention the talismanic words “Bill Bennett” and everybody is supposed to cackle like hens about what a feminist he is?  Does. Not. Compute.  [Ed.:  Because.  You’re. A. F*gg*t.]

I am an implacable believer in your cause, [Ed.:  What  a troll!] no matter how poorly you represent it. [Ed.:  Matt sniffs, sips the cause.  Comments:  “Needs more dick.”]  I am one of your would-be allies.  But this place is a noisome romper room:  [Ed.:  Is that what you tell all the boys at the Y when they’re through romping in your cornhole?]  I expected Mr. Dalrock to be more equanimous, but he is reduced to Invasion of the Body Snatchers-like squawking, [Ed.:  Matt talks like one of those thirteen year-old boys who paints a fake mustache on his lip with his aunt’s eyeliner pencil and enters a cigar shop, pretending to be of age.  Now if only Mr. Dalrock would show him a cigar, how that would excite Matt!] now calling Earl names; [Ed.:  Earl isn’t being “called names”, he’s being called out on inexperience and arrogant assertions.  If Earl is a big man, he will take it and learn.  But Matt’s the one who feels manly saying “Deserve’s got nothing to do with it”, and if so–] and no “manosphere” farce is ever complete without an appearance by Rollo Tomassi and his recycling of old material and personal invective.  [Ed.:  Concretizing abstractions in the person of bogeymen, Matt?  Abusive ad hominem, Matt?  Now we have a “farce”!]

Whatever the truth you are attempting to promote [Ed.:  I thought you claimed to be an “ally”, Matt.  I thought you said you wanted to help them be more persuasive, Matt.  I thought you urged your auditors to “scrutinize” what they read, Matt.  Yet you don’t understand the truth Dalrock is attempting to promote?],   your message delivery is worse than ineffective.  It is actively beneficial to the very enemies you seek to engage and presumably neutralize.  [Ed.:  How these pretentious martial metaphors dribble from Matt’s four-star anus  mouth!]  You have devolved into a witch-hunt committee, turning over every rock to find foibles in would-be friends rather than gathering imperfect men to a common-cause that would address our mutual enemy at the gate.  [Ed.:  The “mutual enemy” is you, Matt.  Though you are not, as you fancy, inside the gate, because. Every. Body. Gets. You. Matt.]

I am glad to have become acquainted with Earl, [Ed.:  Because I’m eager to recruit new catamites] who not only has the patience to deal with you, [Ed.:  Since when do real men compliment other men on their “patience”, Matt?  “OMG, I just don’t see how Earl has the patience to put up with that!!  If my man talked to me like that, I’d just, I’d kick him in the balls and find me a lawyer, pthptpthth!!!]  but also exhibits the kind of balance men will need to reverse this slow-motion cultural cataclysm.  But he’s not perfect!!!  You can only look at him and condemn him for the impertinence of strategic disagreement. [Ed.:  He’s being condemned for being a thirty-something unmarried man telling married men how easy marriage would be if only they would figure it out like his unmarried self.  That’s not “strategic disagreement”, Major-General King Matt King.  It’s called ‘bitchery’] I am glad for his presence, [Ed.:   trans.: “The thought of Earl liking me makes me tingle.”] one of the ten for whose sake God will not destroy the millennial Sodom of our culture.  [Ed.:  If God won’t destroy the millennial Sodom of our culture, can He at least talk you out of fluffing feministx’s clithood all over the internet?]

If you continue to think my criticism is somehow related to an “emotional” response (I flatly do not get this accusation), [Ed.:  Not all forms of verbal abuse are guaranteed to give you a hard-on, Matt] or a cryptofeminism, or some sort of personal loyalty to Bennett or Driscoll or this new fellow I never heard of and couldn’t care less about, Pastor Whatsit Whosit, you are overestimating yourselves. [Ed.:  I would only charge Matt with personal loyalty to himself, Pastor Mattsit Kingsit, of whom we also couldn’t care less about]  It’s not enough to be right, brothers. [Ed.:  I thought this was a “witch-hunt committee”?] It’s not enough to preach until you magically penetrate the Babel barrier between your cult and the uninitiated.  [Ed.:  Penetration would be magical, wouldn’t it, Matt?  But is that really a “cult” betw– oh, but it is to you.] You also have to be somewhat skilled in the art of coalition building — yes! even among the dishonest and prevaricating people not yet as enlightened as thou.  [Ed.:  Matt, how many battalions dost the prevaricating and dishonest Matt?]

But I now realize that this is a kaffeeklatch for men, to gather and blow off steam, [Ed.:  If that were true, would that be so wrong, King Matt King?  You make  “kaffeeklatch” sound like a crossdressing Viennese bordello.  Not everybody blows off steam THAT way] to say the same ten things over and over [Ed.:  That makes twelve times.  Do your ‘rithmetic, Matt!] to each other, to console yourselves for remaining utterly impotent against this tumorous culture. [Ed.:  Matt, what is the secret of your potency against this “tumorous culture”?  Or were you thinking about another sort of “utter impotence”?] Yeah, I can see why you’d hate me for emptying out your kool aid bowl onto the carpet. [Ed.:  Who brings kool aid to a kaffeeklatch fight?  Real men drink coffee, Matt.  Funny you see a little girlie drink like Kool-Aid when you mix your metaphors]   “A little poison now and then: that makes pleasant dreams. And much poison at last for a pleasant death.”  [Ed.:  Perhaps Matt hates himself for emptying out his own tiny cup of kool aid onto the carpet:  not with a bang, but a whimper]

I’m not deterred by your reactive condemnations and dyspeptic fits. [Ed.:  “Urgh!  Matt.  King. Will not.  Urgh!  Be deterred!  Urgh.  Least of all.  Aarh. By your. F**k, auwwh. Girlish.  Eep.  Dyspepsia!!!”]  It requires a morsel of substance to get my attention, [Ed.:  Dalrock must bake substance by the pound, considering how much attention Matt is lavishing on him] [NB:  But I think I misunderstood Matt:  he means it only requires a morsel of attention to get his substance– so eager is he for attention] but you seem to have abandoned the project of substantive discovery [Ed.:  He must’ve wrote “discourse” at first, but decided that word choice was too intuitive] some moment shortly after you stumbled upon your first precious nugget of wisdom.  [Ed.:  ie. Dalrock won’t mandate the project of exploring how awesome Alpha Mattauri is]  And you hold on tight to that little treasure, afraid to expose it to the elements of criticism for fear of scuffing it or losing it. [Ed.: Matt, are we still talking about Dalrock’s “little treasure”– or yours?]  The buried talent, as it were (Matt 25:14-30).  I can see now that you are not getting it, nor are you likely to get it anytime soon.  A waste of good intentions, a misdirection of frustration.  A minor tragedy.  [Ed.:  Matt’s minor violin.  An immodest screed.  A soil of  juniors’ thong panties]

So there’s one more feminist-enthralled pastor in the world, one more hypocrite, one more villain. [Ed.:  Two, Matt.  Mustn’t forget yourself, now:  that would leave a void in Nature] What are you doing about it, besides bitching your own ears off about it ad infinitum?  [Ed.:  Well, the crazy momma in David Lynch’s Wild at Heart said, “I’m gonna hire me a hitman!” but I don’t think that option’s on the table.  I guess maybe we’ll just have to read your penetrating bitchery and then tear it to shreds.  Is that doing too little, Matt Finitum?]

Matt  [Ed.:  This post by Matt King Matt was brought to you by Matt Alexander Xerxes Von Hohenstauffen-Romanov-Vanderbilt-King Matt King Matt]

–Whew!  Well, I’m glad Matt straightened out these sophistical, logic-chopping, hominem-abusing sub-intellectual ruffians over at Dalrock with this cleansing breeze of cogent, coldly unemotional, and stringently objective good sense, delivered in the clear masculine diction and with all the disarming gentlemanly bonhomie that King Matt King is synonymous with throughout all the internets.  I would say there’s nothing left to say, except, by the necessity of imitating that paragon of true Christian manhood Matt King Matt, I can only infer that there must needs be much more left that I should say and so, with proper deference to the illustrious paragon King Matt King, I will say again, and yet once more again, thank you, Matt, and thank you, and for your precious nuggets exposed to us, thank you, once more, and for your spilled kool aid also, many, many thanks.

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Tags: blogosphere, manosphere, satire