Cockburn hears that the spunky youths of the alt-right are growing up and setting aside childish ways, or at least not masturbating themselves to pop-eyed apoplexy over online porn for a few weeks. As if the onset of winter isn’t depressing enough, it’s No Nut November once again.
For the uninitiated, or for those who’ve moved out of their parents’ basement, No Nut November is perhaps the toughest challenge the modern manchild will ever face: an entire month without watching porn or bashing one out over the keyboard. It’s Lent for millennials: 11 months of meaty devotions at the shrine of Onan, one month of remorseful purging of the hard drive.
Prominent among the porn-prohibiting pledgers is PewDiePie, the Swedish chicken-choker famous for his dumb online pranks. PewDiePie, who whacks off under the name Felix Arvid Ulf Kjellberg, will presumably not be enjoying himself alone, as he usually does. Sheffield-born sausage-strangler Paul Joseph Watson will be refraining from self-love this month, judging by his most recent video. Mike ‘Pizzagate’ Cernovich has also said ‘hold the hot sauce’ for November. But Raheem Kassam, significantly, has not declared a masturbatory moratorium. When approached for comment, he said: ‘While I’ve always admired The Spectator‘s blanket coverage of onanism, I am afraid to say I do not share your enthusiasm, and so I have no need for it.’
Like all things alt-right and online, No Nut November comes with a dollop of disavowal and a taint of paranoia. Some of our Kleenex-clutching hard cases pretend that No Nut November is a spoof of Movember, in which middle-aged men grow mustaches to remind each other to have their prostates checked out. Others attach conspiracy theories about porn being a Jewish conspiracy designed to sap the vital spirits of the white race by compelling its menfolk to strain their potatoes at every opportunity. Those who fail to get a grip are derided as ‘coomers’ – a play on ‘boomer’ which, denoting people who look like Bill and Hillary Clinton, is about the worst insult a young person can imagine.
Cockburn is glad to hear that the bug-eyed bishop-bashers have finally realized that porn rots the mind. But why the moralizing about masturbation? And isn’t it strange that these edgelords are sounding like Victorian preachers? Yea, there are none so blind as cannot see porn for a whole month.
Cockburn’s doctor recommends that he maintains his testes just as he maintains the radiator of his vintage Caddy: drain the tank regularly to avoid impurities, especially before going for a long ride. Never mind growing a mustache to remind your pals to check their prostates: Cockburn has found that the best way to raise his friends’ consciousness about the proven link between refraining from ejaculation and prostate cancer is to bang one out in company. Cockburn’s doctor tells him that by the end of November, PewDiePie’s prostate will have swollen to the size of a Granny Smith. He recommends large cups of soy to lessen the load.
Fortunately, a cure is at hand, perhaps as early as midnight on the last night of November. Cockburn prefers not to imagine how PewDiePie plans to reward himself when his month of abstinence is over, but he hopes that if young Felix’s mother plans on bringing him a nice cup of tea while he’s at his computer, she’ll remember to knock before entering his bedroom. Meantime, Cockburn and all at Spectator USA wish PewDiePie a miserable and joyless month. Stay soft, Felix!