A Yale-Educated Feminist Calls Herself a ‘Morally Vacuous Harlot’

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Alana Massey (@AlanaMassey on Twitter) is a godless degenerate who once gave her thumbnail biography in an interview thus:

So I was a walking cliche of disastrous 20-something in New York: I treated mental illness with alcohol and drugs and bad sex with much older men. I had a series of bad assistant and PR jobs and would fall back on stripping and fetish work when I inevitably quit my jobs or couldn’t cover expenses. I enrolled in Yale Divinity when I was 25 in the hopes that if I just got a good helping of Jesus, I’d be cured of my debauchery and sadness. While I was there, I halfway cleaned up my act in terms of my health and my priorities and realized that I had been embarrassed by all of the wrong things. So when I returned to New York and my relationship ended, I decided not to ashamed of my creative ambitions or of the fact that I worked in the sex industry. I was told that the best thing about surviving being a chaotic f–k-up in your 20s is turning it into something worthwhile in your 30s, which is what I am trying to do personally and creatively now.

To summarize, Ms. Massey is a drug-addled, mentally ill ex-stripper who has had the privilege of being educated first at the prestigious private New York University (annual tuition $46,170) and subsequently at elite Yale University (annual tuition $47,600), so that we might estimate she has consumed somewhere in excess of $300,000 in order to become a freelance writer. Considering that there are no real entry barriers to the field of journalism (Hunter S. Thompson became a Latin American correspondent in 1962 with no educational credentials beyond a high-school diploma), we must view Ms. Massey’s stunning profligacy as a typical example of The Higher Education Bubble.

Furthermore, could anything be more absurd than Ms. Massey’s idea that she could get “a good helping of Jesus” at the fraudulently named Yale Divinity School? The place has been implacably hostile to Christianity for decades. The impiety and secularized gnosticism of that decadent institution did much to inspire William F. Buckley Jr.’s monumental work God and Man at Yale. If anyone is seeking “a good helping of Jesus,” probably the last place you’d find it is New Haven, Connecticut, being tutored by the academic High Priesthood of postmodern paganism.

The deities worshipped at Yale Divinity School are a pantheon of bloody idols, chief among which are Equality and Progress. Devotees of the Cult of Social Justice celebrate their perverse beliefs with rituals involving fornication, sodomy and abortion, occasionally organizing protests to demand that U.S. taxpayers fund their heathenish rites. No Christian would dare go near such an ivy-covered Temple of Satanic Wickedness, except perhaps to deliver a prophecy of its imminent doom, then fleeing in haste before Jehovah sends fire and brimstone showering down to incinerate the foul stench of that latter-day Gomorrah. But I digress . . .

Alana Massey recently produced an article for The Atlantic celebrating the scientific wonders of “the Mirena IUD, an intra-uterine device.” This implant has so successfully shut down the biological function of Ms. Massey’s reproductive organs that is has actually prevented her from having a menstrual period for more than three years.

Having been contraceptively spayed, as it were, for what purpose do you reckon Ms. Massey has done this? If you guessed “riding the carousel,” congratulations, you’re a winner:

“I don’t mind motorcycles but do mind when people ride them without helmets,” I lied to a man named “Carl” on the dating app Bumble when he brought up his Yamaha. I actually believe that the only commendable function of motorcycles is to make aging dads feel the crisp bite of youth again during their midlife crises rather than resorting to age-inappropriate affairs, but I was trying to be pleasant.
“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked soon after, apparently not registering that not minding a thing is hardly the equivalent of being interested in it. I answered, “never in my life,” still willing to give him a shot but making clear that his motorcycle would not be a selling point.
“I’m not talking about riding my motorcycle,” he replied.
In no mood to hold Carl’s hand through how game actually works, I said, “Okay you have a good night,” hoping he’d realize defeat. “Haha! I’m joking! Someone is slightly uptight I see.”
Oh, Carl. I would have been tempted to defend myself by letting him know I am actually a morally vacuous harlot devoid of sexual mores, but I was busy talking to another man also using the app. We hadn’t met yet, but his sufficient flirting skills prompted me to take a flurry of explicit photos and send the keepers his way. We would later have sex on our first and only date.
I am icy, certainly, but I am not uptight.
Beyond establishing my reputation as a woman who enjoys sex and a bit of text-based flirting, this episode highlights the troubling ease with which men dismiss women as prudish if they are not immediately open and enthusiastic about sex. It is cruel tool in a culture that was infiltrated by a certain brand of blasé sex positivity long before achieving true gender equality and, by extension, before we’ve decentralized men’s orgasms as the ultimate purpose of sex between a man and a woman.
We pathologize women’s entirely rational reactions of “nah” and “meh” to sex as the result of antiquated values. Often, these reactions are because sex might be perilous to a woman’s well-being — and often, if we’re honest, a physically substandard experience. . . .
Too often, sex positivity feels rooted in a feminism that secretly wants boys to like it. It wants to be cool.
Media outlets feed us a relentless stream of articles . . . [in which] inequality is exemplified by the wage gap, the number of women in Congress, and whether women are courting poverty and death by having babies before they’re rich. What is decidedly absent from the debate is a woman’s sexual fulfillment. . . .
But the absence of sexual satisfaction from these discussions is also due to the belief that, for the most part, sexual inequality was resolved by the sexual revolution, women’s lib and the widespread adoption of birth control.
The legacy of these movements is a mountain of unfinished business which gave birth to a half-formed sex positivity lovechild now wrecking havoc on anyone who isn’t down to f–k. . . .

You can read the rest of that, or gouge your eyes out with a rusty screwdriver. Either option will do you as much good.

Let me reiterate what I have previously said (“Hit-It-and-Quit-It on Tinder”) that no sane person would ever hook up via online apps, whether it’s Tinder, OKCupid or whatever. This is not “dating,” this is digital degradation, a 21st-century rewrite of Looking for Mr. Goodbar, which is a story that does not end “happily ever after.”

If someone is so recklessly desperate as to peddle themselves to any stranger with a smartphone or a wifi connection, we must be suspicious why they cannot find romantic companionship among people who actually know them in real life. Any attractive single man or woman of good character — kind, courteous, honest — will find no shortage of opportunities to meet potential partners.

What kind of guy seeks prospects on Tinder, and for what purpose? He either (a) has failed in prior attempts to establish any durable romantic relationship, or (b) has no interest in anything more meaningful than a sweaty “pump-and-dump.” Or possibly (c) he’s a sadistic psychopath in search of a victim for his next heinous atrocity. If we may presume that there are no decent men to be had via these apps, what conclusions may we draw about the women who peddle themselves this way? Alana Massey describes herself as “a morally vacuous harlot” who pursues one-night stands and complains of the “physically substandard experience” that does nothing for “a woman’s sexual fulfillment.”

Let us ask: Can feminism solve a problem that feminism itself created?

Is this Yale-educated woman too stupid to see that her compulsive promiscuity — a lifelong habit now abetted by advanced technologies of contraception and dating apps — is the basic cause of her problems? How does her whorish “sex-positive” feminism contribute anything to “true gender equality”? Yet what exactly does she imagine “true gender equality” would look like, if ever we were to achieve it?

Of course, such a question would presume that (a) “sexual inequality” is the explanation for whatever makes women unhappy, (b) “true gender equality” is possible and (c) there is anyone who would actually rather live in that imaginary egalitarian utopia than to live in any other social order which has hitherto existed. Each of those premises is subject to dispute, but the “morally vacuous harlot” just takes it for granted that Progress must inevitably lead to Equality and that, having arrived at her hoped-for destination, she will find there a system that universally provides for “a woman’s sexual fulfillment.” Every hookup in Feminist Heaven will produce ecstatic spasms of pleasure, you see, and the streets will be paved with gold. Or maybe cat litter.

Excuse my extreme skepticism about feminist utopian fantasies. The Gods of the Copybook Headings could not be reached for comment.

As it will be in the future,
it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain
since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit
and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger
goes wabbling back to the Fire . . .

Speaking of dogs and vomit, Miriam Mogilevsky — the feminist who calls herself “queer, gay, femme, and homoflexible . . . on the asexual spectrum somewhere” — rejects any criticism of her labels:

“Well I personally don’t see why anyone needs to label themselves with all these complicated new words,” says someone who is able to find people who fit their sexual and romantic preferences just by walking into literally any bar in any town.

Translation: “Heterosexuals have it so easy! Don’t they know how hard life is for us queer gay femme homoflexible asexual women?”

Unfortunately, too many heterosexual women have bought into the bogus idea of feminist “empowerment” and turned themselves into morally vacuous harlots like Alana Massey. Some guy “walking into literally any bar in any town” will probably encounter a lot of damaged women like her, and no one would envy him the prospect of a loveless hook-up with a twisted bundle of Yale-educated cat-lady craziness.




 

368 comments

  1. being a sex worker equals a talented and fulfilling life only in the mind of an utterly depraved nihilist.

  2. I bet your syllabus consists of Hubert Selby Jr., William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg and a host of other third rate miscreants if you actually are a professor

  4. I like how Miriam associates a relationship with bars, as if that’s how couples normally meet and love blossoms. She also gets high marks for correctly ascertaining that life is easier if you don’t act like you’re nuts. Let’s call these “feminists” what they are: unsophisticated morons who think all wisdom visits them just because they put their shoes on in the morning. They all have a PhD in “I Am Me.”

  8. Or he’s just a beta doin what betas do

    “Hi there, did you see me stand up for you in the comments section of that one blog? What, you’re too busy for me? You’re with a client? Call me when you’re done.”

  11. There’s no reason he can’t be both. White knights are sexist pigs anyway, according to radical feminists.

  16. I was reading on some website or other, where the writer speculated that progs are naturally homicidal, and know that they personally couldn’t be trusted to walk around with a gun without killing somebody, so therefore, conservatives can’t be trusted with them either. In spite of the fact that the vast, vast majority of shootings are perpetrated by Democrats.

  17. Perhaps you’ve noticed that some of my best writing is followed by, “But I digress …”

    Of course, it’s a Hunter S. Thompson trick If you’re going to go off on a tangent, by God, GO! Push it to the max, make it worth the trip, and take it to the point where the reader has forgotten entirely what you were originally writing about, and then …

    “But I digress …”

  19. He looks like he’s thinking about what he’d do if he had opposable thumbs. (You’d come home from eork to find him whacked on catnip, and empty tuna cans all over the house.)

  20. I have noticed that, yes. I wish I could do that, but since everything I say is a digression, it’s not as powerful of a technique for me.

  21. That and having the reputation of being a whore.
    Seriously. People know when and why other’s have low opinion of them and it wears on their psyche.
    They persuade themselves that they are not the problem but deep down inside they know that they are not doing the right things.

  23. My post was just about cats. I don’t hate women.

    I hate what a lot of them do to themselves with self-destructive choices, for no good reason other than buying into values based on short-term gratification and propaganda designed to sell stuff, but I don’t think criticizing someone’s choices means you hate them.

    If a close male friend of yours started behaving the way Alana does, or in the nearest analogous male fashion, would you not want to try giving him the best warning you could before he did something really stupid that hurt himself or someone else? Is that “hatred”?

  27. I don’t know….
    The guy’s got a LinkedIn page on which he states that he doesn’t “like long walks on the beach -too much sand”.
    Sounds like the same little girl to me.

  29. Back in Usenet days, it was considered bad form to post something offtopic to a group without at least posting something that was on-topic. It was called obligatory content, which got shortened to Ob-whatever. It was a major win if your Ob-s were more interesting than other people’s entire posts.

  30. Nah….These people have actually been relatively kind to you.
    Sorry I’m late.You know, for an PhD candidate your not very good at reading comprehension. Is that because your two mommies brainwashed you growing up? Do you still play with your Easy-Bake oven?

  33. No, he was gloating that I’d left my keys at home while at the Bachelor Party, and was waiting for my now wife to open the door.

    He’s the Most Discerning Cat who only likes fresh ‘nip, but doesn’t mind tuna.

  36. Also, agentic is the adjectival form of agency. I don’t know where you pulled that definition from but I’m pretty sure you’re confusing it with a discipline specific use/context (i.e. psychology).

  37. Again this obsession with my masculinity. You have all thought about my masculinity more than I ever have.

  38. I am not grotesquely stupid and neither are you. Everyone on this thread is really smart and rhetorically inclined, actually. But we just obviously live in fundamentally different realities. I am appalled when someone like Stacey McCain shames and judges a woman for her sexual life style choices (all of which are her decision and not necessarily unhealthy) and makes her the focal point of ridicule and hatred (hatred because of the misogynist language used in McCain’s peice) for choosing to make her own experiences the subject of her writing. That’s the reality I identify myself with and I’m very proud to call myself a feminist of the third wave more or less.

  41. I can’t help but faint when such manly men such as yourselves come along. Your machismo is just so hot. My pussy is so wet.

  44. Ah, so your definition differs from the established definition which established definition is the complete opposite of yours? Do you realize how stupid that sounds? I bet in the high school band, you were the only one who was in tune.

  45. I am not saying anyone’s lifestyle is ideal. I am saying that Stacey is calling her a whore, which he is, and that is misogyny and it’s wrong. There’s nothing wrong with having loveless sex, in my opinion, nor is there anything inherently wrong with sex work, in my opinion. But what I take special exception to is the judgment and the attempt to humiliate and denigrate ms. Alana Massey, who is clearly a smart, successful woman who owns her sexual destiny. Misogynist men are threatened by agentic female sexuality. This blog by Stacey is yet another example of that time honored tradition of being afraid and repulsed by strong sexual women.

  46. She called herself a “harlot.” She celebrates that appellation. Repeating her is misogyny? Refusing to celebrate her choice is hatred? Pointing out that promiscuous behavior combined with substance abuse generally doesn’t work out well in the long term is bigotry?

    If she wishes to live her life that way, so be it. However, she seeks to advocate for a lifestyle. That makes it fair game for discussion.

  47. Part of what gives the misogyny of this comment thread and blog away is that everyone is focused on Alana as a person: how she looks older, how she looks harsh, how she has no talent (when she clearly does), and most importantly, the nature of her character. All of this when she is only talking about her personal experience. And this is all done with such contempt and hostility. Not to mention how hypermasculine everyone’s logic is here. I’ve had a bunch of people question my manhood, as if this is done precarious thing in question; as if this is something I too should be concerned with. This is quite revealing. It tells me that many men who read mr. McCain’s blogs are not only misogynistic (which is probably a deep understatement) but deeply anxious about their own masculinity and about what they perceive as its endangerment in today’s society. Also, Stacey…? Isn’t that a chick’s name?

  49. Listen friend, people look like shit when they do drugs and drink. That’s aside from the fact of her obvious hostility towards men which you seem to think should inspire compassion or admiration. Yes, that invites insults in kind. If seeing both you and her for the empty-headed morons you are makes me anxious about my maleness then color me anxious. You comments about “endangerment” are typical of parrots who must’ve been born in a stereotype factory. Only people who entertain foolish fantasies think success ever feels endangered. In fact it feels great. As for her talents, I’ll grant you she has a talent for using a piece of marvelous tech beyond her ability to understand and debasing it to the sordid task of having sex with strange men. Monkeys sometimes get hold of a tourist camera and take selfies. The difference is they don’t send them to strange monkeys due to better breeding.

  50. What precisely is this “talent” of which you speak? Writing about oneself? In the real world that’s called “solipsism. ” It’s quite tedious.

    As I note far, far above, she tells us she rebuffed a dude on a dating app while sending salacious selfies to dude number 2 because . . . . who knows? Yet this is supposed to pass as great insight into modern social mores?

    Sexual equality? Really? What does that even mean? And how does that dovetail with her professed promiscuity? She’s obviously getting her share according to her own confession. If she’s not happy, perhaps that’s because she’s divorced sex from commitment.

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