How to Beat Me (Spoiler: You Won’t)

They don’t realize what a Herculean task it would be to defeat me. In fact, if the thirteenth Labour of Hercules after defeating Cerberus was “Get Milo to Shut Up” he probably would have failed miserably. Incidentally, I think I met Cerberus last night in an L.A nightclub and yes, the teeth were a problem.

If you read the headlines, you’ll know that I always win. Media coverage of my Dangerous Faggot Tour around university campuses has exposed social justice warriors’ collective inability to remain calm in the same room as me.

My tour has revealed their irrationality and their blatant intolerance for new ideas. They hate me so much that if I were to give a blueprint on how to beat me, they’d reject the offer.

You can’t really blame them — such a blueprint could only involve cloning me so I’d have a genuinely challenging debate partner. And even then, they’d just complain it was “debate rape.”

Still, I don’t like fighting the handicapped (everyone who isn’t me), so, in the interests of fairness, I’m going to give you some tips. If you disagree with me, you’re retarded, but I believe in giving the disabled a leg up.

I win because I understand my opponents better than they understand themselves. Most of those who challenge me end up frustrated because I force them — without affirmative consent — to think beyond their Women’s Studies talking points. It’s the lack of understanding of their own positions that has made my job so easy.

Because of my success, I have accumulated a large audience. I have over 181,000 Twitter followers, 54,000 fans on Facebook and nearly 75,000 subscribers on YouTube, which I barely even pay attention to. It’s not unusual for me to receive more than 50 million impressions on Twitter in a month, which is more impressions than some big news sites. It’s gone as high as 75 million.

These numbers are climbing more quickly every day. I’m the next big thing and everyone’s super excited about it!

Of course, much of this rapidly-acquired fame can be attributed to my transcendent hair, amazing voice (I sing too, by the way — look out for my debut single later this year), Adonis-like good looks and astonishing fashion sense.

But I begrudgingly admit that some credit also goes to more substantial qualities: namely, the fearless stances I take against an increasingly regressive Left and the hard work I put in to preparing my public appearances.

Or at least the hard work my researchers, assistants and make-up artists put into making me look good. (Did I mention I have more money than God?)

There’s also my army of supporters, of course: educated, well-adjusted, and equipped to handle any tactic that a social justice warrior might throw their way. Alinsky? They’ve read him. Bell Hooks? Read it — and laughed. Feminist Frequency? Watched, disliked, downvoted.

When engaged in debate, my fans never resort to childish emotional outbursts, because they know that would be the point at which they lost. How often do you hear about one of my supporters disrupting a campus event?

If you want to beat me, you’ll have to start acting more like these fine young men and women.

So. Here comes my guide to winning — a strategy I know you won’t follow. But when the Milo army inevitably wipes social justice warriors off the face of the planet, I’ll at least be able to say I gave you a fighting chance.

If you’re going to rush into the event venue with red paint dripping down your face, making shrieking noises in an attempt to drown me out, I will win. Thanks to your bizarre antics at Rutgers, the attention of the world’s media was drawn to me and my message. Much like violence at Trump rallies (probably committed by the same people), your wild-eyed exploits only grows my army and gives me attention.

The most significant handicap for progressives is that they often don’t understand their own positions. If you’re going to challenge me, make sure you understand your own argument. I have no problem making you look foolish for being unprepared.

I sympathise with the fact that nothing triggers Gender Studies activists more than actually studying, but reading and understanding data is critical, regardless of what your Marxist professor taught you.

Emotionally-charged positions are usually the easiest for me to dismantle, so leave your emotions at the door. You need to challenge me with substantive and rational arguments if you want a chance to come out on top. Your emotions serve you no purpose in our debate. (Apart from amusing me — which shouldn’t be discounted.)

Basically, I don’t care about your feelings and neither does anyone else.

Because I like to dedicate the largest portion of my events to questions from the audience, refrain from disruptions during my speech. The airhorns, chanting and yelling aren’t helping your cause as much as they are helping mine. If you want to challenge my positions, wait your turn like everyone else.

As Teddy Roosevelt almost said, speak softly but carry a big glittery stick of Truth wrapped in bitchy one-liners. I know quietly listening goes against every feminist bone in your body and big stick is a horrifically gauche anatomical analogy for a strong question, but… like I said, fuck your feelings.

My army never does this. They may be high-testosterone alphas, but they aren’t going to waste their energy on you.

Remember that it’s not just you and your mates who acquire a negative reputation for your loony behaviour: it’s your university too. I’m sure some of your peers won’t be happy when you devalue their diplomas with infantile behaviour that only serves to increase the size of my army.

Alumni who pay for your Women’s Studies courses with their donations are going to think twice after seeing their alma mater mentioned as the locus of your anti-free speech antics. I mean, do you really want your dad asking you about me over Thanksgiving dinner?

I could go on, but that’s enough for you to work on. I’ve realised that if we are going to have anything approaching a fair chess match, I might have to move both sets of pieces. If you follow these simple suggestions, you may get closer to beating me than you thought possible.

Not that I expect you to listen, because progressives and hard work go together like supporters and economics qualifications. To paraphrase Auric Goldfinger: “No, Mr. binary otherkin SJW, I expect you and your headmates to cry and blog about it.”