10:49 a.m. September 19, 2012

Look at me! Somebody finally touched my penis!

People of the Internet, I bring you big news: Steven Crowder, contributor at Fox News Opinion, has finally put his peepee in a lady. And, just like in high school, the intoxicating power that comes with entering the realm of post-virginity has elevated him from mere poon-hungry prick to towering colostomy bag of hard-earned carnal knowledge.

Normally, this kind of nonsense would just elicit an eye roll and maybe a derisive snort, as I really don’t care what anyone does with their genitalia, so long as all parties involved are happy with the arrangement. Save yourself for marriage? Sure, whatever. Watch a lacrosse team run a train on your hot little wife? Great. Make your boyfriend serve donuts off his wang while wearing a dog collar and crying? Whatever tickles your pickle. You get the point.

In an ideal world, I’d never have to write this dispatch. What people do or don’t do is none of my damn business.

But this is no ideal world. And when Crowder’s piece was brought to my attention via American stand-up comedian Auggie Smith my task became clear. I just cannot let this kind of Pecksniffian dickcheese slip across my radar unrebuked.

Because not only has he announced that he is now married and no longer a virgin, Steven Crowder would like you to know that he is judging you. Not only is this asshole judging you, he wants you to feel his judgment. He wants it to affect you like the compunction he seems to have so diligently repressed through years of celibacy. (Also, in the future, please kneel before addressing him. He is sexually active now, and his endurance of decades of virginity entitles him to certain formalities.)

At first, the piece “Waiting till the wedding night - getting married the right way” seems like your standard shame-fueled abstinence propaganda. He waited until marriage to bang his hot now-wife. Clearly, he has proven himself superior to the messy heathens who’ve been fornicating willy-nilly, without need or want of a legally binding contract. Perhaps the poor man just needs to gloat about it.

Crowder then goes on to assert that all the women who questioned his vow of premarital chastity chose to do so because they “felt like the floozies they ultimately were” and the men that spoke ill of his virginity had felt “threatened” with their “fickle manhood tied to their pathetic sexual conquests”.

Thus far, no big deal. Sure, the guy is clearly an insecure dick, but whatever.

What he does next, though, is horrendous.

Crowder proceeds to take a steaming, sanctimonious powershit.

He and his new wife were having breakfast and overheard someone else talking about their own wedding, which was also the previous night. (Note, the story gets weird here because the other woman is clearly talking to someone, but it’s not her husband, and presumably this couple is also on their honeymoon, leading me to wonder to whom she was talking. But I digress.) Crowder’s wife “innocently... scratch that, naively” asked the newlywed where her husband was.

Because it’s her business? I don’t know. This whole thing is bullshit.

When the woman answers that he’s still in the bed, recovering from their wedding night festivities, Crowder creams in his pants. He immediately paints this man as a drunk who ruined his own wedding by being “that guy”, going so far as to assume the Unnamed Groom was so drunk he won’t even remember the wedding.

The judgement spiral begins. Crowder has the fucking nerve to paint a contrasting portrait of his “truly a once in a lifetime event” to the strangers’ “just another party”. His vile extrapolations and assumptions gave him the nerve to state that “[o]ur ‘weddings’ were the same event in name only. They know it, and we know it.”

Hold on. What? One would think this man, freshly married and freshly fucked, should be pussy-drunk and starry-eyed, soaking in his first morning after glow with the woman he’s chosen to spend the rest of his life with.

But he’s not. No, he spent those gorgeous morning moments going out of his way to feel superior to some other lucky fella with what was mostly likely a well-earned and joyfully endured hangover. Not to mention the fact that the other couple might very well have been virgins on their wedding night. He doesn’t know. New Hubs could be an epic lightweight drinker that gets schwasted on a sippy cup of chardonnay. Anything is possible.

If the way you celebrate your wedding is by announcing that others are lesser men than you, you have far deeper issues than the emotional scars from your years of virgin torment. You, Steven Crowder, have just taken the concept of Judgemental Asshole to a new level.

And I know that is the intended reaction to his smug, self-satisfied little article. He wants the impure to feel outraged, he wants everyone who couldn’t wait like him to feel shame and remorse. But he failed.

Gross as it is, I feel nothing but pity for the man. His bitter words inspire pathos, his empty accolades directed as his new wife smack of a little boy showing off a new toy. His “do it the right way” message is shallow and feeble-minded.

In close, Steven Crowder is a monumental dickbag. Consider this your friendly NSFWCORP reminder to get out there and love how you want to love, fuck how you want to fuck, and get on with it.

Back channel chatter

There is a scribble about this dispatch in the backroom, with three contributors.