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Ironsides triggered this post with reflections on ultra-posturing fathers of hotter younger tighter daughters,

Translation of all this huffing and puffing:

“I spoiled my daughter absolutely rotten, giving her an ego-swollen princess syndrome which is almost certain to launch her onto the Carousel with Saturn rocket boosters because she thinks that she’s so Precious and Special that no solid regular guy is worthy of her …

… and realizing my mistake at some level, now venting my futile beta rage by being as obnoxious as possible to young men interested in her, which has the effect of driving off the decent, hard-working betas who would actually care for her and make her happy with a family, while the alpha cads see right through my posturing and pump-and-dump her over and over again, laughing at me as they swagger out the door at 3 AM in search of greener puss-tures.”

Matt King strikes out a lot but when he connects he goes yard. His reply to Ironsides,

… now venting my futile beta rage by being as obnoxious as possible to young men interested in her …

The cuckservatives have queered this meme beyond all usefulness. It’s now nothing more than how to dramatize oneself as the Ultimate White Knight Orbiter to one’s own flesh and blood.

Fatherhood is a kind of game, and just as in game, a little mystery and a lot of ambiguity goes a long long way to getting her to behave the way you want. Putting up a Top Ten list of your intentions, along with the least subtle photo of a threat imaginable, creates the opposite effect. These are unreconstructed dorks who grew older but never left their beta insecurities behind.

To see schlubs fawn over the only alpha female (i.e., their young and attractive daughters) ever obliged to give them attention is one of the most putrid side-effects of the veteran-carouseler-incel-betamale alliance for the creation of one designer baby in wifey’s late thirties. I know how I’ll make pretty girls pay attention to me! I’ll make one!

“Omigod ur so hawt” in college transforms 20 years later into “My daughter is an angel.” Learning curve flat.

Fucking hardcore.

It shouldn’t go beyond most woke men’s notice that beta daddy soyboys, when they manage to convince a veteran cock carouseler to take them under her marital wing at the ripe age of 38 to pop out that one designer baby three years later (and not a baby more!), curiously produce some of the hottest prime nubility daughters this side of Kiev. The Helical Holy Spirit has a sense of humor about these recombinant mysteries, and with a little thought it’s easy to figure that feminine low T daddies shoulder more than their share of the burden of gracing the world with HBdaughters, should they have daughters who inherit daddy’s supple skin and manteats and mommy’s defined triceps and cock hunger.

(The sons of such unions tend to fair poorly in the physiognomy department.)

Thank the Cosmic Overlord that He has seen fit to ensure the sexual appetites are properly redirected to outside the immediate family circle, else these beta daddy orbiters of HBdaughters might wind up nursing a hellacious case of incestual blue balls. As it stands to everyone’s relief, their blue balls are strictly of the emotional, psychological variety. The captured company of hot daughters is likely the best chance daddy orbiters have had to monopolize the attention of the kinds of women who ignored them most of their lives or, worse, toyed with them by dangling effervescent promises of a future hookup in exchange for months and years of sounding board provisioning. It’s no wonder daddy orbiters are gung-ho to shove gun barrels in the faces of any suitor of his daughter-cum-sublimated girlfriend.

Apropos King’s comment and the Roy Moore moral panic of the past week, it’s a good time for this song:

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