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June 2009 Beta Of The Month

June coughed up a bevy of magnificent betas! There were so many good choices, I’ve expanded this month’s voting to a three-way contest.

Before we get to the reader submitted June candidates, it’s time to announce the May 2009 BOTM winner:

Congratulations, Edmund Andrews, reporter for the New York Beta Times (AKA “All The Lies That’re Fit To Foist”), you are our May 2009 BOTM winner! You, sir, are a beta. Hang your head proud, shuffle your feet with joy, you represent the worst of what it means to be a man. May your aged Argentine wife’s future boob job drive you into bankruptcy a second time. May her yoga instructor avoid eye contact with you.

June 2009 BOTM Candidate #1 was submitted by reader cz. It’s a news report about an heir to a billion dollar media empire in Australia who gets publicly humiliated over and over and over again by Australia’s version of the DC lawyer cunt. A photo of the loving couple practically tells the story:

Ever notice how some women just *look* like bitches, before they’ve said one word? Is it her arrogant, smug mug? Her fuel-injected chin? Her severe hairstyle? Hmm, who does she remind me of… who could it be now?

So what makes Ryan Stokes, the billionaire heir in this story, a contender for betatude above and beyond the call of pity? Is it the fact that his girlfriend snorts coke with a badboy biker and, if I were a betting man, likely has taken his kickstand long and hard up her ass?

MEDIA heir Ryan Stokes has remained in Broome while his troubled girlfriend Jodi Gordon tried to avoid the limelight after she was linked to a cocaine-fuelled bender with a Kings Cross bikie. […]

Police found her in the unit of the suspected Rebel bikie member [Mark Judge], said to be allegedly suffering from the effects of illegal drugs. […]

Judge, a tattooed hard man said to be a member of the Rebels, is serving a two-year suspended jail sentence after pleading guilty to the 2005 assault of a Newcastle man. He faces sentencing on further charges (detaining and occasioning bodily harm on a Llandilo man) later this month in Penrith District Court.

Or is it the fact that his lovely girlfriend has a history of slutting it up and rubbing his high society face in it?

It is not the first time Gordon’s public behaviour is said to have affected her relationship witStokes. In February, The Sunday Telegraph reported the pair had argued after Gordon wanted to continue partying “beyond her curfew” on her 24th birthday.

Last year at the Ivy Gordon was allegedly seen crying before “knocking back” shots and openly flirting with men and women.

Or perhaps it’s that he’s engaged to a whore who has a penchant for hanging out with shady underworld figures?

Gordon is a regular on the Kings Cross circuit, friendly with club owners Dave Evans and Julian Tobias among others.

She often frequents Darlinghurst Rd club The Piano Room, a notorious hang-out for celebrities and underworld figures, where she met with Judge before returning to his apartment.

A Seven spokeswoman denied Stokes and Gordon were engaged, despite Gordon sporting a diamond ring on her wedding finger last Friday.

…and then in typical amoral female fashion, absolving herself via testimonials from friends of any personal responsibility:

“Jodi’s holding up: she’s a strong, stoic girl, but she is also acutely aware of the damage she’s done,” a friend of Gordon said.

“She’s devastated that she’s caused so much turmoil. (She’s) honestly appalled by what’s happened.”

Translation: “I feel bad that people are freaking out about this. It was out of my hands. What was I supposed to do? My gina tingled!”

No, it’s none of those things that catapults Mr. Stokes to BOTM nominee. Dirty, soulless, ballchopping sluts are a dime a dozen. What pushes Stokes into the rarefied atmosphere of truly mythical betas is the fact that he’s a FUCKING BILLIONAIRE HEIR WHO COULD GET HIMSELF A BETTER BITCH TOMORROW if he had ANY BALLS AT ALL. Instead, he suffers his cheating, whoring, lying, floozy girlfriend’s humiliation and begs for more. If you are a man with options, there is only one thing you say to a Jodi Gordon after you discover she’s been in the company of an ex-con biker:

Get the fuck out.


June 2009 BOTM Candidate #2 was submitted by reader db. Drum roll please…

It’s droning commenter cuntrag’s Italian eunuch ex who serves as her personal chef and babysitter!

No I don’t have to cook, one of my exes comes over and cooks enough for me and my son for the whole week. (He’s Italian and loves to cook). As for the cleaning, he does the things I hate like dishes and sweeping but the rest I do myself because I have OCD and am VERY particular about the way things are in my home.

Hm. I see. So let me get this straight. Your ex comes over to cook a week’s worth of meals for you and your bastard child, sweeps your fucking house and does the dishes because those are the chores you hate the most, has to deal with your fucked up OCD issues and Teutonically grating, unfeminine personality, and gets…


Skittles Man laughs at your Italian ex.

Cuntrag, you attract second-rate men into your life. SECOND RATE. Say it to yourself. You are a prematurely aging, BMX biker banging, single mother who has her pick of SECOND RATE low self esteem loser betas.

You’re a winner!

Now of course you will probably protest that your Italian ex is handsome, caring, assists you of his own free will, and can fuck you like a champ, if you so choose to let him. Unfortunately for you, none of that is relevant. All that matters is the fact that Antonio Eunuchio does slave work for you and gets nothing in return but your annoying flapping gums. This instantly puts him in the running for BOTM.

I’m feeling in a generous mood, so I will leave you once again with some valuable advice I gave you in the comments of my blog not too long ago (which, naturally, I don’t expect you to heed):

you [cuntrag] claim you are OK with an assortment of random short term pump and dumps and loveless flings, as long as you have your LIFE and your HOBBIES and your bastard SON and your YOU GO GIRL amen chorus of eunuch omegas and low class allentown high school dropout girlfriends to keep you occupied, but i guarantee that in a few years when your looks have completely cratered and you can’t even find a halfway decent man who isn’t a total beta loser willing to spend the minimal effort to fuck you for a few nights, nevermind willing to stay with you and your unfortunate spawn from a DUI-collecting loser badboy, and when the prospect of love from a good man — deep true amazing soul-nourishing love — is lost to you forever, you WILL feel the cold shadow of desperation trace its gnarled finger down the back of your neck and spine.
and you will shiver, remembering my words.

and as for your breathless contention that as a woman you don’t have to worry that you’ll never get laid again, i have two words for you: quality matters. an aging single mom can get laid, but she’ll only be able to do so by gradually lowering her standards. most single moms manage something like this by lying to themselves and to blog audiences about the steadily declining quality of men they are bagging. i’ve no doubt an arrogant cunt so completely lacking in self-awareness like yourself with do exactly that. right now, it’s low SES bikers and italian eunuchs who orbit your shriveling vagina. soon, it will be urine-soaked homeless bums and david alexander clones.

of course, one day not too far in the future, 5 years or so, your standards will have been forced to bottom out so low that you find it easier on your ego to abdicate men altogether instead of suffering the indignity of laying listlessly through awkward, arid rutting with weaselly sycophantic suckup betas or suffering the shame of spreading for yet another 50-ish drunken lout with a boob tattoo on his chest and a penchant for expressing his rage through cigarette burns on your arm. and then you will tell everyone here how happy you are that you don’t need a man in your life. you are an INDEPENDENT WOMAN.
and no one will believe you.
and when the pain and horror of your life begins to pile up on your psyche like a staten island landfill or the waiting list at the allentown battered wife shelter, not even you will believe yourself.

now, you could follow my advice and do the smart thing before it’s too late:
but i don’t think you’re that smart, so i’ll just laugh at your pain instead as i twist the shiv of reality deeper into your overtanned prematurely wrinkled patent leather husk.

oh and here’s a very special ps just for you: in fifteen years, when you are 43 and looking 103, you WON’T EVEN BE ABLE TO GET LAID without paying for it or frantically flirting like a sad mangy cougar with the absolute lowest of CHUD-like, shambling losers and male detritus. you can pretty much give up on your dream of forever banging younger betas who worship the floor-length dangle of your labia.

Cuntrag, you once asked why I give you a hard time. The answer is this: I enjoy making an example of you. It amuses me.


June 2009 BOTM Candidate #3 was submitted by reader Thursday. It’s an article written by Rod Dreher, syndicated columnist, one-time National Review contributor, and self-described “crunchy con” (read: religious, Luddite hippie social conservative). Rod writes about adultery. His words betray the soul of a beta:

I’ve been thinking a lot over the past day about why I have such intensely strong emotional reactions to news about adultery, comparable to my fierce reactions to news about child abuse. It’s perhaps a bit odd, because I grew up in a family in which no one committed adultery, and no children were abused (a friend of mine, though, suffered through his father’s abandoning his mother and him when he was a boy, and is far more emotional on the topic than I am). The best explanation I can come up with is that I am a papa bear about my wife and kids. I really am. I would give up my life without a second thought for any of them, and I struggle every day to be worthy of them. If my wife ever committed adultery, under most circumstances (i.e., true contrition and repentance), I would hasten to forgive her, not only because I love her that strongly, but also because I would see it as my duty, in love, to do whatever I could to make our marriage whole again, for the sake of the children. That said, I honestly don’t know if I could live with myself if I were unfaithful to my wife, nor do I imagine myself capable of receiving her forgiveness. I know that is disordered, but were I to betray her, I’d also be betraying my children, and the thought that I had done such a thing to my wife and kids is one of the worst things I can imagine.

“Struggle every day to be worthy of them.” “I would hasten to forgive her.” “… my duty, in love,… for the sake of the children.”

These beliefs reveal a rotten, fearful beta core. Yes, I said rotten. Rotten because they show a man who would sooner betray his masculine essence than face up to the truth of human nature, and in particular the amoral nature of women. Fearful because they expose his lack of faith in himself that he could go out and find another woman who would respect his sexual and emotional desires. Rod, here’s a news flash: There is no God, your wife is not a saint sanctified by your love, and she’s not worth your abject forgiveness no matter what she does. What Would Doormats Do? They would do like you say.

Rod, know this: If you discover your wife has cheated once, that means she has cheated hundreds of times. And she LOVED it. She LOVED taking the other man’s cock deep into her pussy, all the way up to the cervix, where the tip brushed with the depths of her womanhood and sent shock waves of pleasure through every inch of her body. Are you visualizing this yet, Rod? Good. Now that you have that image burning your retinas, let me explain to you what a real man does when he experiences the ultimate betrayal:

He dumps the whoring bitch.

No ifs, ands or buts. No appeals to your better angel. No clinging like a barnacle to societally useful concepts like duty, honor and forgiveness. No last ditch leaning on a supernatural being to credit your sacrifice with points toward fast tracking through the pearly gates.

You dump the whoring bitch.

Do you think it helps women… do you think it helps SO-CI-ETY… if all men acted in the honorable fashion you prescribe and forgive their cheating wives? What happens when you REWARD bad behavior? As a conservative, you should know. You get more of it.

And if it’s the children you’re worried about, there are alternatives to handing over your BALLS to a whore in utter, daily humiliation. You could work to change the ri-fucking-diculous divorce laws in this country so that when a wife cheats the children are automatically removed from her and remanded to your custody. Then guess what, Rod? You get the kids AND you get to be single again and chase some new, fresh skirt at Bible study. Trust me on this, Rod, new pussy is AMAZING.

That said, I honestly don’t know if I could live with myself if I were unfaithful to my wife, nor do I imagine myself capable of receiving her forgiveness. I know that is disordered, but were I to betray her, I’d also be betraying my children, and the thought that I had done such a thing to my wife and kids is one of the worst things I can imagine.

Words to projectile vomit to. So Rod would forgive his wife’s cheating, but he might kill himself if he ever cheated. Rod, go back to the visualization exercise I wrote just above. Read it again. Still think that the worst thing you can imagine is yourself cheating?

Jesus Castrati Christ, the main problem with the postmodern West is that so many men have forgotten they have a sack between their legs. And so many more, like Rod, are telling men with any sack left to lop it off for the Lord.

That said, I really don’t feel the least compelled to give up my high view of marriage and family.

That’s OK, with the sanction of the anti-male state, plenty will give it up for you.

We live in a time and place in which the integrity of the family is under constant assault, not least by an egotistical culture that exalts sexual pleasure and self-fulfillment, and casts aside ideals of fidelity and self-sacrifice for the greater good.

Hey Rod, who do you think is assaulting the integrity of the family?

I want my sons to grow up knowing that it is both good and honorable to see women as worthy of utmost respect, and the women they pledge fidelity to before God in the sacrament of marriage to be worth dying for, which is to say, worth living fully for.

What if the woman fucks around? Some women aren’t worthy of respect, either yours or your sons.

I want my sons to carry in their hearts a natural repugnance at the thought of infidelity, not so much because it offends God (though it does), but because it is a defilement of a covenant made in love.

Grand words, but why stop at your sons? Shouldn’t a man hold a cheating wife to the same standard? Or is her cheating not quite as repugnant? I suppose if you take the modern warped view of Christianity you’d find it easier to forgive the dear darling pedestaled princess than to forgive yourself. You’re like one of those beaten cuckolded men who lash themselves mercilessly with the self-taunts “If only I had been there for her. It’s my fault she spread for another cock.”

And I want my daughter to think and feel the same way about marriage — that it requires sacrifice of one’s selfish passions, and the transformation of them into active love for one’s spouse and children — and not to settle for a man who has a lesser view.

The best way to teach your daughter this lesson is to leave your wife should she ever cheat on you. Oh, and it’s probably not a good idea to inculcate an aversion to settling. Family gatherings take on a dark pallor when your daughters and sisters attend as aging cougars.

By the way, don’t think for a minute your marriage will ever be the same after your wife is caught cheating. Unless you have the fortitude and willpower to dump your bad beta habits for a good alpha attitude adjustment, your wife, no matter how penitent, will never tingle in her gina for you ever again. And lest you nurse ignorance about this, a gina tingle is the only moral code that women subscribe to. So really, if you want to enjoy the pleasure of a loving, sexually avaialable wife into your dotage, you have only two options when confronted with infidelity: Leave her, or learn Game.

and how important it is to get it straight in your head from the beginning that once you marry, and especially once you marry and have children, your life is no longer your own.

Yet another reason to not get married.

But breaking a family through infidelity and divorce is a deep wound, and always an occasion of the most profound sorrow.

Admonitions of sorrow are such a beta giveaway.

That’s not how it is with us these days. To quote C.S. Lewis on our moral state, “We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and then bid the geldings to be fruitful.”

C.S. Lewis’ words are pointed like a dagger straight at your own beta heart, Rod.

What I can’t get straight in my head, when it comes to marital infidelity, especially when children are involved, is the difference between mercy and cheap grace.

Mercy is for closers.


The voting begins:


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