In Stephen King’s magnum opus, The Dark Tower, the main band of misfit gunslingers, the heroes of the story, happen upon a small farming village on the edge of the world. The town, Calla Bryn Sturgis, has lived for as long as its people can remember under the tyranny of the Wolves. To the east of the Calla lies Thunderclap, a land of eternal storms and darkness, and every few years, the Wolves ride into town to abduct one child from every set of twins. Unfortunately, almost every child born in the Calla is part of a pair of twins; it has become an extremely common gene there.

The nature of the Wolves is unknown to the townsfolk. But what they do know is that a few weeks after the children are taken, they are sent back. A phantom train with no conductor rolls back into town, and the children are all aboard. Except, now they are Roont.

It’s as if the children have had most of their brains scooped out. They are shells, capable of only the most basic functions, and highly erratic, emotional, and violent. They immediately begin growing at a rapid pace, becoming grotesque behemoths. The people of the town do their best to love them alongside their normal-twin counterparts, and give them jobs to do around the house and in the fields, but most die prematurely.


Many times when I am dealing with modern American women in my daily life, I cannot help but think of them as Roont. The word is basically a dialect-version of “ruined.”

When I am on a date with a woman who brags about how many men she has slept with, and then laughs with cockiness about how she’ll have plenty of marriage prospects well into her 40s, she is Roont.

When I see a woman wearing a pantsuit talking about the corporate merger and how she is going to really deliver some stellar Q3 profits, she is Roont.

When a girl goes out to clubs night after night, filling her life with endless “fun” until she finally decides to settle down in her 30s, she is Roont.

When a fat whale waddles down the street, marching in a slutwalk and calling me a misogynist for criticizing her “just because she doesn’t starve herself,” she is Roont.


The sad thing is, I believe once a girl is Roont, it can never be undone. That’s why the word is appropriate. She is truly a ruined woman, a walking example of failed opportunity. Someone who could have brought light and life into the world, but has instead been warped into something unnatural, which lives out its days in confusion and misery.

I don’t call women Roont out of spite or bitterness. It truly saddens me every time the thought comes into my head; every time I see another example of the toll our society’s direction has taken.


In the Calla, this curse is only reversed by fighting back and killing the Wolves, stopping the vicious cycle so they can raise the next generation in normalcy.

Changing the Roont back is an impossible task; all that can be done is to eliminate the darkness that turns them, and begin raising the next generation to live in a more natural state of harmony.

So it is with America. Arguing with aging, bitter feminists and fatties is a fool’s errand. Their egos are too invested in all their wasted years and poor decisions, and they will rationalize these choices until they die.

But if we can retake control of the conversation, begin to stand up for what is right, and show our children a better path, there is hope for us yet.

  1. Sounds like attack the problem at the source, not the symptoms.

  2. One way to go about it is challenge your friends and women when they start mouthing pc, feminist garbage. Hopefully they’ll learn something, if not then move on to people who can think independently. It’s going to be a long battle but it’s worth it.

    • That gets really tiring as the days pass by.

      At least for me, I am more worried about working on myself before helping unplug others.

      • I would also say that having only been recently unplugged myself, or still in the process albeit almost finished, I am not as capable as others when it comes to aiding other lost souls in their quest down the rabbit hole.

        The common line from airplane safety SOP comes to mind – in case oxygen masks are needed, please secure an oxygen mask to yourself before assisting others.

  3. “When I am on a date with a woman who brags about how many men she has slept with, and then laughs with cockiness about how she’ll have plenty of marriage prospects well into her 40s, she is Roont.”

    I am so f-ing glad you wrote this. So many women have bragged about their partner count to me before but none of my friends believe me. I keep swearing women do this all the time even though I never ask them about their past – I have no idea why anyone (male or female) would volunteer this type of info on a date.

    And I like the use of the word Roont. Well done.

  4. Pingback: Linkage is Good for You: Week of June 3, 2012

  5. Michelle

    “I don’t call women Roont out of spite or bitterness. ”

    LOL. LOL. L.O.L.

    Sorry about your life, bro.

    • Author Dagonet

      Methinks the lady doth protest too much.

      • lesley

        Methinks Dragonet hasn’t been privy to a lady in far to long. Boohoohoo for him. Lucky for the ladies:-)

        • Author Dagonet

          It’s Dagonet, muthafucka.

  6. paul

    A-men, finally some intelligence on the Web! Someone who actually thinks for themselves? My goodness i thought it would never happen! Thank you God!

    • Author Dagonet

      Thank you!

  7. lesley

    Wow. What original sentiments. Its refreshing to hear a man talking down about women; derogatory name calling! Wow! Now that’s fresh. And to write a blog about it. Come on buddy. Consider the source. I feel a wee bit ‘roont’ just commenting on this crap. But hey. Takes one to know one.

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