Kindred stone cold truth tellers occasionally like to rib your humble galactic overlord by pointing out that social survey data shows that beta males have more kids than alpha males as the latter are commonly recognized, and that this means betas aren’t really betas. I respond, with amused mastery, that having kids is no measure of a man’s alphaness, especially not in this day and age of brat-thwarting contraception.
But there’s more contradicting the speciousness of this “kids = alpha male” line of thought than just the expectation-busting effect of contraception. To give the readers a clue into why it’s so wrong-headed to assume fatherhood is a default alpha state, read this story.
The guy has two (putative) sons by his parrot-faced wife, yet she does no housework, doesn’t cook, and only has sex with him on his birthday, and then not even every birthday. A bit of an extreme example of a neglectful, sex-withholding wife, but the extremes illuminate what it’s like for the mediocre masses of married men who suffer similar torments, albeit less spectacularly, at the hands of their ingrate wives who prefer to diddle to vampire porn.
So, yeah, you can snag yourself a fading beauty eager to accomplish the goal of popping out some rugrats with a man she can feel certain will do as he’s told, but don’t for a second think that “””achievement””” makes you an alpha male. The alpha male may or may not get married, may or may not have kids, but rest assured he’s not begging like a dog for pellets of pussy chow or listlessly shuffling around the house in an apron holding a dust buster.
Oh no, just the opposite; the wife of an alpha male is throwing herself at him because she can’t get enough of his undomesticated dongle.
In related beta male news, a new study found that upwards of 70% of couples are not with their true loves and are just “making do”. So sad. Game can help men find and keep their true love instead of settling for any girl who will take them. Game is pro-love. Game will get you closer to God.
Ever notice how it’s the cute chicks who glom onto assholes and JERKBOYS the most, utterly belying the assertion by sexual market denialists that the kinds of girls assholes get are low self-esteem skanks and warpigs?
So what kinds of women do the world’s biggest assholes — serial killers — fuck (and, tragically, chuck)? You’d have to be a detective investigating one of these demons to know the quality of girls he’s boning. Well now, photographic evidence has surfaced supporting the anecdotal impression that hot babes dig the biggest jerks of them all.
Rodney Alcala, a serial killer who fulfilled his grisly urges in the 1970s (and was even a contestant on a dating game show, which he won), was found guilty in 2010 of killing four women and a 12-year-old girl. He is a former photographer who took many pictures of the women who accompanied him to his various haunts and lairs. Police found the photos in a storage locker rented to Alcala, and posted them online for information the public might have about any of the women in them, (presumably some of the women in the photos are still missing). You can see a slideshow of the photos here.
Observe anything about the photos? Besides the shadow of death that lurks in them. A theme, perhaps?
With the exception of a handful of photos, most of the women look happy to be in the company of Alcala, posing for him, often seductively. And while not every woman is attractive, enough are bangable that the stream of them eagerly acquiescing to Alcala’s charms — “You want me to go *where* with you, Rodney? Ok! Yay!” — should inflame the envy and ire of your typical niceguy beta male who’d be lucky to enjoy the intimacy of two chubby girls his entire life.
In related depressing news about the nature of the female species, a Mexican man who padlocked his younger girlfriend’s pelvis in a chastity belt avoided prosecution because the poor, abused woman just couldn’t find it in herself to send him to the clink.
To the surprise of authorities, the woman refused to press charges once the man was detained.
Not a surprise to anyone who knows women well. The lovers of sociopathic jerks may occasionally, in a histrionic fit or when their bladders are about to explode, call in for white knight assistance, but when push comes to shove the ladies are loath to permanently part with their mean men. After all, the sex is SO GOOD.
Story also says the woman has been his lover for twelve years, which would mean this man was 28 years old and she was 13 when they started dating. Ah, Mexico. May you forever stay south of the border. Or, failing that, may you move en masse into Bryan Caplan’s McMansion in Northern Virginia, and vibrantly pop his bubble.
For those of you men routinely scouring the bowels and spit-shining the lacquered coifs of both ends of the dating market, the issue of age discrepancy, in either direction, is a fairly common one and, if not properly neutralized, a potential cockblock on the road to vaghalla. The good news is that gliding past any age issues is easy, and is the reason why a good game strategy often employs the tactic of initiating the subject of age before the girl brings it up and locks you into her frame, (and remember that a female-defined frame is, as is usually the case in nascent seductions, antagonistic).
Personally, I like to start off a budding romance by psychologically knocking a girl back on her heels, especially if I sense that some intractable circumstance beyond my control threatens to derail my meaty Maglev. For instance, if the target of my predation is an older woman (read: north of 25) whom I suspect, by her body language and attitude, to be excessively confident in the staying power of her fading beauty, I might quip, “I’ve never met a real life MILF before”. Is this a compliment or a curse? That’s the point. She won’t know, and the not knowing is the brain lube that psyches her up to the possibility of receiving my generous endowment.
If, on the other hand, my muse is a younger woman of shy disposition signaling an organic discomfort with any coupling that may not conform to societal standards, I might loosen her up with a jaunty “You’re just a kid. Are you still on Team Edward?”
Anyhow, no matter the springboard which bounces the age discussion above the fold, if all goes as expected she will reveal her age (never accurate), and then the opportunity I need to deliver a pitch-perfect age neg presents itself.
“32, eh? Wow, that wasn’t what I expected.”
Said with pleasing sincerity, not sarcasm. You can stash the smirk for this one; you want to convey the impression that your expectations were genuinely unmet. And it works no matter what her age.
Think about what this neg does to a woman’s underdeveloped capacity for self-reflection. She’s momentarily stunned by a terrific tingle bolt of ambiguous candor. Now her brain has to process what it means, and no accessible neural algorithm is forthcoming. “Was he expecting me to be older? He must think I look young for my age. Or is he surprised that I’m younger than I look?”, deliberates the older woman. “Was he expecting me to be older because I look or act older than my age? Is he uninterested in me now? Or did he think I was younger? Is 24 old for a girl nowadays?”, deliberates the younger woman.
Whether she presses you for clarification, or attempts a hasty face-saving segue, or tries to pull a snark rabbit of faux righteous indignation out of a grrlpower hat, you win. You sit in the judge’s chair, your alpha judginess parting vulvate parapets from the bar to Timbuktu. If you must offer an explanation, season your reply to taste. But always, when possible, remain ambiguous.
“Oh, nothing, I just figured you were older/younger than you are. Based on how you sit/stand/act/laugh/dress/order a drink/behave around men like me.”
Not to gloat over my prowess at uncovering the world’s cringeworthiest beta males, but I think you readers will find it particularly difficult in this edition of Beta of the Month to stare at these train wrecks without averting your eyes.
BOTM Candidate #1 is a Rainman Jr. looking guy who earned his FIRST HUG (after four years dating) on the day he proposed to his girlfriend. Aww. Slow down, Romeo!
6/10, would hug. She’s wearing sunglasses to hide her shame and contempt.
In the interest of fair and balanced shivving, maybe the guy is sniggering like a retard because he’s already boffed this chick and he likes the feeling of getting one over on her oblivious dad. But judging by that disrespectful boner protruding in his pants, I’m guessing this tiny amount of physical contact is the first he’s received since his umbilical cord caressed his neck. So for the sake of BOTM continuity, let’s just call it and state unequivocally that this beta is loping into marriage on the basis of a platonic side hug. And is that a wallet he’s holding? At least he knows he’s gonna have to pay up to get a hug on the other side that maybe, if he’s lucky!, includes a brief tit brush, tastefully clothed.
Poor bastard. He has no idea the hell matrix that awaits him.
It takes a special kind of beta male delusion to conduct one’s personal affairs in the belief that marriage will open the pearled pink gates of sex. If your girlfriend can successfully parry your irresistible betaboy charms for FOUR FUCKING YEARS and reward you with a hardcore side hug the second you promise her an early retirement plan option, then it’s a good bet she can easily glide through another twenty years of sexless (that is, sexless with you) marriage once she has a ring on it and any incentive for good behavior from her has been removed from her consideration.
A young(ish) woman saving herself for marriage is not necessarily a bad thing in the big civilizational scheme of things, but she should at least be showing signs of sweating hard to restrain her base impulses while in your company. If it looks like she’s happy parceling out tidbits of affection you can get from your mom with less effort, you had better not think that marriage to her is somehow going to magically cause her desire for you to erupt like Mount Vaginius. Marriage is just a dotted line and the smoking barrel of the state apparatus pointed at your head; it’s not an aphrodisiac that can make a woman suddenly tingle for the timid twig of a beta male.
******
BOTM Candidate #2, submitted by reader Matt, is a manlet who… um… well… yeah, I’m having trouble typing this out. The mere motion of tapping my fingers into legible patterns that describe this hapless creature might transmogrify my hands into clawed, chronically fap-worn vestiges of scalzification syndrome. But, I soldier on. The dude is on his knees begging for forgiveness from his girlfriend in public, who can’t stop slapping him in the face in front of gawking onlookers. The craven puling he vomits defies every tenet of manhood, not to mention good taste.
Dude…
The video is too grotesque to be staged. Yes, this guy is really on his knees, in the public square getting slapped around by his frail Asian girlfriend for some transgression that may or may not involve another woman or perhaps a Pokemon hug pillow, and bawling like a baby. What’s going on with the other girl standing next to her? Is she keeping away good samaritans? Providing color commentary? Moral support?
“You hit him real now, You no exist to him. You take that? Harder, hit harder! I want… I mean you want to see his shame burn in his face like a three day sake bender.”
Asians are weird.
We laugh at stuff like this because it helps ease our discomfort. You see, beta males and their antics are inherently discomfiting to the human senses. This is why we cringe when we see a beta male profusely apologize to his battle-axe girlfriend for some minor mistake, or a beta suck-up who wears “This is what a feminist looks like” t-shirts, or a beta orbiter who listens attentively while his unknowing dreamgirl dumps her problems with her boyfriend on him. The behavior of the beta male violates some universal law, or some deeply ingrained neurological module that goes code red when an expected sex role is turned on its head. It’s the same feeling one might get seeing an everyday and familiar object that would exist in the state of nature deformed into a monstrous aberration.
Conversely, when we see a charismatic alpha male handle his woman with expert care, and refuse to bow and scrape for scraps of female approval (or for stays of female punishment) when he has done her wrong, or not quite done her right enough, we relax. We exhale. We smile contentedly. We do this because such a scene means that everything is right with the world. Everything is cool. This is normal and the sun will not explode tomorrow.
I propose a new emoticon for sackless beta males:
\’/
Note the micropeen and vague vaginal evocation.
The voting:
For those wondering why it’s not more correct to label these two candidates omega males rather than beta males, take stock that they at least have slender girls in their lives, in however limited a capacity. The typical omega male is either an involuntary celibate or a wiping implement for a blubbery land whale. The beta male has not reached the depths of loserdom that the omega male occupies. The problem with the beta male is that the prize he has managed to acquire keeps threatening to slip from his grasp. He lives in a constant state of fear and horror that his tenuous hold on his girl will fray, and she’ll sail into the arms of a better man.
In some way, the beta male is worse off than the omega male. Many omegas learn to accept their invisibility to women, and find contentment in dropping out of the mate race to pursue more readily available pleasures, like food or hobbies. Betas, in contrast, can see the ass ring dangling inches from their reach. So close, they are taunted constantly with plump juicy rewards, if they just try harder. And that is why they fail.
CH has been at the forefront of predicting rather astutely that beta males experience worse results in a sexual market where women are economically self-sufficient and can follow their tingles to alpha cad land, and conversely do better (i.e., maritally or otherwise lock down prettier women in their beauty primes) in a sexual market where women are increasingly out of work and needing a charmless company stiff to support them. Right on cue, a news report states that a major “sugar daddy” dating website has seen a 50% increase in sign-ups since the government shutdown, and that half of the new members are single moms.
A lot of government bureaucrats are women. A lot of government teat sucklers are women, many of whom are single moms with low impulse control. When the money flows freely, the pussy flows freely… to fly-by-night alpha males with the right mix of JERKBOY CHARISMA. When the State Sugar Daddy money spigot slows to a sad dribble, so too does the willingness of women to indulge their darker desires with exciting but unreliable swains. In tough times, beta provider males enjoy an expansion of their sexual market niche.
Do you know what wonderfully focuses the mind of a single mom? Visions of her bratty bastard starving to death in her arms. Yep, works every time.
ADDENDUM
In related ♥SCIENCE♥ news, a study found that divorce risk correlates with the wife’s share of household income.. The more money your wifey makes relative to what you make, the likelier it is she will stick the divorce court shiv in your hide. This shouldn’t be news to regular guests of Le Chateau, where we have been saying for a fucking long time that economic self-sufficiency reduces women’s need (and thus desire) for beta provider males, and creates incentives for female-initiated divorce and cad chasing. However, it’s always a fun time when one of these studies comes out reaffirming ancient wisdom. You just know it gets under the skin of the right sorts of degenerate freaks.
Game-less beta males who espouse feminism are really working against their own romantic interests. One wonders if they realize this, or if they do but just enjoy the feeling of cucking themselves into prostrate submission.
With regards to ejaculations such as “stick to poon”, “I thought this is a Game blog,” “how does this race-post help me get laid?” that predictably pop up on ideological posts such as the previous one — here is why they happen:
Liberals have been coasting for decades on a deadly concession from righties that they (libs) are: 1) smarter; 2) better; 3) sexier.
And like every illusion, the one about liberal supremacy of mind, heart, and body is becoming a spent force. A brief explanation follows.
1. The lie that leftists are smarter: though this may not be apparent, liberals have abandoned their claim on intellectual superiority. Free inquiry and scrupulous reason is now the domain of the so-called “dark enlightment”. The leftists, feminists, anti-racists, statists, now resort to censorship, personal destruction, and faggoty snark. Leftist thought is, as Bryan Caplan arrogantly admitted, little more than marketing for the ruling classes.
2. The lie that leftists are better people: we all know the founding moment of leftist moral superiority, when Welch told Joseph McCarthy: “at long last Sir, have you no decency?” Please take the time to read THIS, up to and especially to the sweet payoff in the post’s final line.
3. The lie that leftists are sexier. Or more cool, more attractive, more hip. That is the one they still hold on to, willfully oblivious to the fact that they are fearful, tight-lipped prigs. But this is exactly why no-name commenters mews “stick with poon!” when slapped with a CH clear-talk evisceration of a feminist of an anti-racist shibboleth. They are disturbed, very deeply, by the fact that verve, coolness, sexiness, style, and Game are ours, not theirs.
The brains, the heart, and the body ascent toward excellence when congruous with themselves, each other, and with truth, beauty, and honor. And those things are what we seek, while they desperately try to bury.
While fatties, feminists and feckless freaks are fun manboob-sized targets upon which to practice one’s soul carving skills, the maestros of gleeful malevolence at CH really love to sharpen their shivs on the strip-mined ids of more evasive prey. Blasting double-barreled buckshot through a SWPL leftoid’s snark-and-Stewart-pumped ego is a thrill that no lumbering megafembot sporting an exposed id the width of a barn door can provide. And, as PA says, as long as your heart and your mind are true, so shall be your aim.
Not many have the stomach for the hunt. Fewer still have it for the ultimate hunt: to hunt the hunters. Stare with sharp eye, breathe with cool repose, hold with steady assurance and, at the precise moment of uncoiled contempt, relish the glory of dropping a paper titan, sniveling, to his knees. Where he knows deep in his heart he has always belonged.
***
Runner-up Comment of the Week winner is tspark156.
There is a simple truth that betas are unaware of or simply ignore. It is the misunderstanding and deliberate ignoring of this truth that is responsible for the state of western society today. Women hate men that give and love men that take.
Correct. But if you ask women, they’ll tell you the exact opposite. So don’t bother asking women what they want. They’ll only lead you down a dead end.
Need some CH readers help. Been going out sarge’n by myself lately. I never do this, trying to throw myself into my fears. I’m 30 so time is not on my side.
Unless you look unusually prematurely old, time is most certainly on your side. Most men hit their *physical* sexual attractiveness peak in their mid 30s (as long as they don’t get soft and pudgy). Men can sustain their *attitudinal* sexual attractiveness well past their 30s and into late middle age. The point of this reminder is to wake you from falling into very bad and confidence sapping feelings of self-doubt. Chicks most certainly do not dig self-doubting Thomases.
I met this Hawaiian girl at a bike festival with her gay friend(guy). She had an amazing body, big ass HB 7.5. face was alright nothing amazing. We all talked for a bit, I got her number about 10 minutes into the convo. She gave me a free token for a beer/basically bought me a beer and told me I had “nice eyes”.
I’m just gonna assume she’s not an industry worker.
Anyways they were leaving and asked if I came alone I said yea I was gonna meet someone but they bailed.
Fibbing is always better than DLVing. (Demonstrating lower value.) Don’t tell a girl that your friends “bailed”. Tell her you bailed on them to chat up new people.
She said come with us to the street fair you aren’t doing anything.
An in-demand man is always doing something. She’s already trying to box you into a beta corner. This is an example of a mild form of shit test that many women will utilize without really being aware that they’re doing so.
I told her there was a party later and she and her friend should come and I was going to hang around. (bad move right??).
Not necessarily. Manufactured scarcity can be alluring. And you want to avoid following a girl around like an affection starved puppy. But if she’s really showing interest in you, it’s better to push for more time together than to retreat from the playing field by promising to meet at a later time. To put it simply, if the road is opening up to you, hit the gas. Don’t park and wait for a tow.
I thought I could ride out my high and stay approaching.. I guess this is a good lesson in know when to close the day?
Right. The point of approaching is fucking. Not more approaching.
I text her later on that day
Me- ” hit me up if you want to come to the party”
her- “ok for sure”.
Never heard from her.
Could be any number of reasons why she went cold. But I’d start with your phrasing. Don’t write “…if you want to come to the party”. That’s pleading for her company. Instead, state “come to the party at X. see you there.” AAS. Always. Assume. The Sale.
1 day later I text her around 10:30 am a funny meme that has samuel L jackson from Pulp Fiction pointing a gun and say “morning mother fucker”
If she was a friendly guy you just met would you be sending him funny memes the very next day? No? Then you shouldn’t be sending them to a girl you just met. Remember, dude, you hardly know her and you have better things to do. Why would you waste time trying to cheer up a girl you talked to for a few minutes, unless you were some needy beta desperate for a love connection?
Listen, girls can SMELL value on a man from twelve parsecs. They can sense it like you can visually tell the difference in nanometers between the right and left boobs.
nothing all day, until 10:30 I text her again..
me- I owe you a beer unless you handed out free beers to every guy who approached you
So far the texting ratio is decidedly not in your favor. You’ve sent three texts to her one text. Look up at the Jumbotron. Are you proud of your works, Oxymandias?
a day later
her- “haha so they all owe me beer”
She texted you A DAY LATER. This dynamic should be the other way around.
How should I attack this?
Lost cause. You’ve shown her nothing of worth except “nice eyes”, and that plus a buck will get you a cheap coffee and an afternoon fap. You want my sincere advice how to attack this? Go nuclear. Text back:
slut
Just like that. No punctuation, no nothing. Only The Asshole Force can save you now.
I feel like I had the upper hand
You never had the upper hand. Do you think a girl’s compliments mean anything? Attention whores toss out glib flattery like candy in order to stoke the chase in their suitors. Girls don’t mean it when they say shit like “nice eyes” in the way that men mean it when they say the same to women. The only evidence that a girl means anything noteworthy is her parting vagina welcoming your Mosaic staff.
but I didn’t move to another venue and now somehow the power dynamic has switched?
Your critical error was your lack of leaving any sort of impression on her. A venue change may have helped, but only in the sense that it would have prolonged the window of opportunity for you to salvage this mess.
While with her I ran into some random people I knew we talked for a while and I thought that showed I had value.
Depends what kind of random people they were. Nerds and fat chicks? Then you lowered your value. Cool cats like yer humble host CH? Value overload.
I’m a bit unsure of what route to take this.. Any help greatly appreciated. I want to smash this one.
You want to smash this one. She knows this. This is why you will not smash.
I can give you little. The lead is cold. Ice cold. Try non sequitur text game. That might do something. Otherwise, accept your momentary defeat and take the lesson to heart for the next girl you want to smash. Don’t worry, there will be plenty of them.
Although the source and scientific rigor of this graphic can’t be verified by crack CH gumshoes, it is interesting enough even in its vagueness and limitations to spur charmingly adolescent discussion about female beauty and its correlation with race and ethnicity. Take it for what it is, and assume some bias in the photo selection process that produced these averages of female faces from various nations. (No doubt the bias alluded is the surmise that the photoshopper is a white SWPL nerd deliberately choosing photo samples that minimize any uncomfortable racial disparities. Let’s face it (heh), it’s the way to bet nowadays.)
A few passing thoughts. First, for your social circuit approved elucidation, the Cathedral-sanitized thoughts are presented:
The sky is blue. Global warming is really bad. All women are beautiful the world over. There’s no such thing as absolute morality. Aren’t Republicans evil?
And now the unfiltered candor that fills the cheap seats is presented:
– As perhaps has been noted before on this blog and by numerous others, averaging the faces of multiple women appears to improve the looks of the final amalgam. The softening of asymmetrical protuberances and the converging toward the Golden Ratio can explain much of this phenomenon. However…
– The degrees of symmetry, softening and feminization in the female amalgams are not distributed equally among all population groups. While most of these women meet the minimum bangableness threshold for all but the most discerning (or Pointy Elbow Syndrome suffering) men, some clearly stand out as superior specimens of stiffy inspiration. As it seems is the usual in these international pulchritude comparisons, Ukraine, Russia and the Mediterranean minxes come out looking the best.
– In the general, the white women (where dey at? disappearing fast) have the edge over their historically geographically distant competition, but racial bias (a healthy and normal evolved human inclination which wouldn’t be so universally possessed were it not reproductively fitness enhancing, as the Peter Stone Cold Frosts of the world might quip) most certainly clouds accurate cross-racial comparison. Within the kernel of the seed of us men (and women) surely resides an incomprehensible, and barely comprehended, favoring for close encounters of the kin kind. It’s genetic continuity all the way down. That is, until a white woman is air-lifted into District 9. Then it’s a genetic hybridization orgy.
– The Dutch fused filly is mega hot. Those eyes, those eyes. They megaphonically telegraph “I am thinking about your rock hard cock driving itself into the chassis of my high church Nordic womb. The merest graze of my eddied upper lip on your proud exclamation will send you to spasms of molten release.” What her eyes do not say: “I bet you’re intimidated by my Masters in Third World Rebranding and my Tier 15 law school credential.” American women, take note.
– Asian chicks are overrated. But, they’e thin. And that’s where they close the gap with white women vis a vis the lustful longings of white men.
– The black African women outperform expectations. But, if most men had to choose…
– Sadly, no amount of averaging will rescue the Samoan girl from looking like an ugly ladyboy with a tribble on her head.
– A keen-eyed cad might mention that the averages of the women look epidermally lighter-toned than the everyday street versions he encounters on his travels around the globe. The South Indian girl, for instance, is a few color charts lighter skinned than the ones seen in photos of her countrywomen obliviously washing clothes in a fetid river transporting cow and human carcasses to their tenth lives as ants.
– French women may not be the world’s most beautiful, but CH proclaims them in the running for the world’s sexiest. Ween, ween, monsieur.
– What the graphic doesn’t tell us: The length of the tails of the beauty distribution for each represented country. Is the cute British girl, for example, close to the appearance of a randomly chosen young British woman, or is she the fuse of a lot of ugly Brit chicks averaged with a few super hot Moneypennys?
– Would have loved to see an Australian aboriginal average face included in this graphic. For the yuks, (entendre intended).
– The American woman amalgam is not represented. The frame was simply too small to fit her.
– The Brazil chick looks like every dirty porn star on the internet. Brazil should just rename itself to Pornistasia.
– Argentina is sitting on a Yankee candle.
– Peru has been wanting to get married since she was five.
– Burma: pedophile charges. Upside: you’ll always feel like you’re deflowering a virgin.
– Sweden is what too much feminism does to a woman’s looks.
– That Mexico chick? Yeah, 99.9999999% of Mexican border jumpers don’t look like her. So settle down open borders nutjobs.
– Irish girl is missing, which is too bad. Too bad for science, of course. One wonders (well, one with a juvenile curiosity wonders) if averaging would eliminate the famed jutting chin of the Emerald Isle lass.
– Who the hell does a female reader have to blow to get a !Kung woman represented in these beauty contests?
The military is too male. I don’t have a joke, I’m just really in awe of that phrase. I’m thinking about the length of a journey that a culture must undertake in order for that to stop sounding crazy.
The catch-22 in the leftoid mentality is that when you hitch your ego wagon to equalism, and “progress” can only be achieved by increasing total equality in the world, then you quickly reach a reductio ad absurdum vanishing point of infinite stupidity where continued progress must necessarily be squeezed from more costly (in every sense of the word) increments of equalization. Since true equalization is impossible given biological constraints, the stupidity will just ratchet up with each Pyrrhic liberal victory, and the rationalizations for the stupidity will become more labyrinthine, until civilization is paralyzed into inaction, and then eventual implosion and full regression to a pre-stupidity state. Much avoidable suffering will accompany this trajectory.
But I guess we’re all just gonna have to learn this lesson the hard way, again. Thanks, leftoids!
The reason there aren’t even more disproportionately committed black-on-white crimes than there already are is not because blacks don’t hold much anti-white animus; it’s because the opportunity to prey on whites is limited.
Aided by store surveillance footage, Davis and Jones–parents to four children [ed: the future’s looking brighter every day]–were arrested yesterday. Dawkins identified both suspects when shown photo lineups.
During questioning, an “apologetic” Davis reportedly confessed to robbing Dawkins, claiming that he “stole the property because he needed new tires for his car.” Jones admitted that she and Davis went to GameStop intending to “catch a cracker,” which she said was slang for robbing a white person, cops reported. Instead, they robbed Dawkins, with whom Davis said she fought until Davis was able to drive away.
Blacks can’t “catch a cracker” if there are no crackers around to catch. This is why, despite SWPL moral posturing to the contrary, most whites with half a brain don’t live in the ghetto, and avoid meandering into ghetto space when an alternate path of travel is available. For the ugly truth is that blacks would target a hell of a lot more whites for their very special lessons in impulsive violence if whites made themselves more convenient plushtoys. But because most criminals are lazy and don’t venture far from their hunting grounds, the scope of their target selection is typically no larger than a four-block radius surrounding their filthy hovels.
Whites and other non-blacks (and even some blacks) who avoid predominantly black hoods — as per Derbyshire’s advice in his seminal column The Talk — are acting in their best interest and doing the smart thing by refusing to become an easy mark for thugs who perceive, more rightly than wrongly, that whites are soft targets of their malevolence. Narrative-enslaved conservatives who phonily lament the tragedy of “black-on-black” crime should know that black-on-white crime would dwarf it were it not for the happy “accident” of geographical segregation and black indolence. Remember that the next time you’re tempted to think that blacks can’t be racist because, hey, they kill so may of their own kind. They’d take out a lot more whites if whites would just stop moving the hell away from them. Stand still, cracker!
Comment Of The Week: There’s A New Kid In Town
Oct 9th, 2013 by CH
Peripatetic commenter PA writes,
While fatties, feminists and feckless freaks are fun manboob-sized targets upon which to practice one’s soul carving skills, the maestros of gleeful malevolence at CH really love to sharpen their shivs on the strip-mined ids of more evasive prey. Blasting double-barreled buckshot through a SWPL leftoid’s snark-and-Stewart-pumped ego is a thrill that no lumbering megafembot sporting an exposed id the width of a barn door can provide. And, as PA says, as long as your heart and your mind are true, so shall be your aim.
Not many have the stomach for the hunt. Fewer still have it for the ultimate hunt: to hunt the hunters. Stare with sharp eye, breathe with cool repose, hold with steady assurance and, at the precise moment of uncoiled contempt, relish the glory of dropping a paper titan, sniveling, to his knees. Where he knows deep in his heart he has always belonged.
***
Runner-up Comment of the Week winner is tspark156.
Correct. But if you ask women, they’ll tell you the exact opposite. So don’t bother asking women what they want. They’ll only lead you down a dead end.
[crypto-donation-box]
Posted in Comment Winners | Comments Off