Portrait of an Incel

Update: Poor little Squidward (who is still actively leaving comments on this blog that are all going to spam) has been successfully flagged by Twitter as engaging in abuse and harassment.  He's still on Twitter, but moved himself here.

As all cowards do, he tried to hide his misogyny by deleting comments, changing his name and his header/profile photo, but I have the receipts.  #SorryNotSorry

Squidward did end up contacting my work, and, God bless him, my boss laughed at how ridiculous his assertions were.  Squidward thought he'd be able to scare me into backing down, but each idiotic move just makes the circle of people who know he's pathetic grow larger.  I also alerted my husband's company who noted, as military vendors, they'd take care of the issue if we'd like, but why waste resources on cowards?

Just the same, my husband suggested I file a police report, so I did.  I said to the officer "I realize you can't do anything about this, but my husband wants a paper trail in case he needs to shoot someone this week."  The officer laughed and said, "Noted."

Chris has been excitedly polishing his newest toy all weekend, but we all know Squidward is impotent; I am wholly unconcerned, especially given how quickly he turned tail and tried to hide the evidence.  Ever since Twitter flagged him, he's only left messages on this blog (and since my settings now send him directly to spam, he's not having much luck there, either).  

Again, ladies, don't fear sad little boys like Squidward.  As soon as you shine a light on the roaches, they scatter.  Keep shining your light and if need be, ask friends to amplify.

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Being a woman, dealing with fragile male egos is something I'm well-versed in.  Every now and again, however, the perfect specimen of Incel comes across your feed, and you realize you're about to be treated to a plethora of amusement.

Enter @yona_stan.  For easy reference, we're going to call him Squidward.

My friend had been innocently commenting his experience to a nun on Twitter when Squidward accused him of lying.  I simply pointed out I knew my friend IRL and could vouch for him being a real person who did, in fact, share a true experience.  At this point, I didn't realize I was dealing with a man. Squidward's photo, after all, was the image of a woman and the bio listed info about a female poet.  I shrugged and went about my day.

When I got back, I saw that Squidward had spent hours (HOURS) combing through my old tweets to leave ridiculous comments. I also saw a LITANY of direct messages from this person (I think I'm up to 50 or 60 at this point) calling me a "whore," referencing my divorce, and making all manner of ridiculous statements.  I then saw my e-mail (which is linked to my blog) and was treated to dozens of "blog comments" and several form entries from this same individual.

​See just a sampling:

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And here's a screenshot of the wall of DMs he kept sending to me.  I couldn't even tell you how many there are at this point as I'd been ignoring them and sending the e-mails directly to spam.  But it's all the same garbage that always gets sent out by guys who think their opinion matters more than it does.  It's a giant temper-tantrum centered on the fact that he is impotent.  LoL.

THIS was when I realized Squidward was a man.

After all, this is what men with bruised egos do.  Normally, I let the stupidity roll off because I don't typically have the time or desire to engage, but every now and again, I decide to have some fun knocking these weirdos down a few pegs.

I called him out for being a man using a woman (who I later found out was a dead poet) as his profile photo.  Not as if hiding behind a woman's photo was enough to disguise the stench of desperation wafting off him, because women deal with petty little boys like this all the time.  We can recognize clowns without a second glance precisely because each and every one of them resorts to these same idiotic tactics each time their little egos are bruised.  

I spoke to my original friend (a man) and sure enough, Squidward didn't bother sending him any messages.  That's because Squidward knows that friend is a man.  Squidward won't play in the sandbox with men.  Squidward is scared of men. 

​Instead, he chooses to attack women, and he does it like every other incel has ever done in the history of incels: he first attacks her appearance.  When that doesn't work, he attempts to attack her character.  When that doesn't work, he attempts to scare her.

Little Squidward followed the textbook to a tee.  First he started in with the "You're fat" nonsense (grammar, as expected, was wholly incorrect).  He immediately reminded me of a guy from college who, after I turned him down for a date, told me I was fat.  This photo was taken about 10 minutes after I turned the guy down.  I'm legitimately the skinniest person in the picture.  LoL! 

Anyway, what Squidward and other incels like him fail to realize is that attacks like this will never, ever work.  Why?  Because in order for their words to carry any sort of meaning, they, first, have to carry some sort of meaning.

Squidward is meaningless.  He's a random little boy on the internet who can't spell, can't articulate logical arguments, and can't handle a woman.  He presents as someone who legitimately has never had a positive interaction with a woman in his life (must be his winning personality).  Instead of doing what normal people would do and shrug off the thread and move on, he became so enraged that a woman would dare to call him out that he legitimately spent HOURS and HOURS of his life trying to make me care about him.

Then, when even that didn't work, he spent God only knows how many more hours combing through this blog leaving comments and messages pretending to be various people (my brother, a colleague, Chris, Chris' colleague, etc) all in an attempt to scare me because he knew "private details" about my life.

Alas... all it did was make me laugh. 

Squidward Super Sleuth thought he could intimidate me because he can read information I have readily posted?  Ha ha ha ha ha!

My name is no secret.  My husband's name is no secret.  Google exists.  It's not like I run around hiding away under a dead female poet's photo (*ahem*).  So him posting these things in an attempt to make me feel unsafe only made me laugh at how ridiculously obsessed he'd become with "putting me in my place."

Oh... what a sad, sad little Squidward.  

He even went so far as to cite my place of business and title as if it would bully me into fearing him:

For anyone wondering, I work for a homeless shelter.  Great place filled with some amazing people. Pretty sure any one of the people we serve here would have no problem taking out the trash on my behalf.  The folks I am privileged to serve come from places of genuine strength and honor.  They've fought the demons of addiction, mental illness and gang violence (some for years!) before finding themselves again here at our shelter.  

The idea of a sniveling little Squidward showing up to make problems here?  Ha ha ha ha ha - oh Lord above, this guy is funnier than Dave Chappelle!  

My husband, also, had a good laugh at this.  Chris is a very large, muscular and no-nonsense man.  He works hard, trains hard, and takes his role as protector seriously.  He almost got giddy at the idea of someone presenting himself for target practice. LoL!

Alas, we all know what happens with Squidwards.  They vent their hot air into the atmosphere feeling confident that they've squashed another female who dared make him feel like the insignificant loser he is.

​So why am I sharing this?

I'm actually sharing it because of a recent situation springing up with Nicole Arbor and Black Rifle Coffee Company.  I won't bother w/ details, you can see the stupidity for yourselves in the link above.  Suffice to say she spent years in fear of people like Squidward.

I am here to tell you not to.  Squidwards are a dime a dozen and only know how to bark, not bite.  The best way to deal with them is to publicly call them out and laugh at them for the clowns that they are.

Men like this are not men; they are boys parading as men (and in some cases, like dear Squidward, they're not even parading as men but as dead female poets who, had she known him in real life, would have recoiled in horror and likely would've eternalized him as the reviled subject of one of her poems).

Women, do not be afraid of men like this.  Stop allowing them to say and do these abhorrent things.  We so often take the abuse and silently move on, but the best disinfectant for germs like this is sunlight.

Put the little incels on blast, because at the end of the day, they have absolutely no power over you and it drives them bonkers.

PS - since I've already gotten about 100 notifications while putting this blog together, I know you're still visiting, Squidward.  I will doubtful ever think of you again, but I do hope the penthouse you've set up for me in your brain, rent-free, is a nice one!  *Grin* 

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