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Shitlord Of The Week

I’ve had to upgrade the Shitlord of the Month series to Shitlord of the Week, because they’re starting to crop up in the news more frequently. This is a positive sign that a Shitlord Rebellion is a-brewing. When we hit Shitlord of the Day, the Gallows will be heavy with the swinging bodies of traitors and the Wall will gleam from Brownsville to Imperial Beach.

SOTW is owned by this huh-White man, whose shitlib-eating grin could launch a thousand brown triggerings.

supremeshitlord

Nothing drives the anti-White left and mud hordes insane like mockery. AMUSED MASTERY, in the Game parlance. Trump has it in droves, and that’s why he’s steamrolling the nation on a shoestring budget and a skeleton crew.

PA (his blog here) delivers a swift uppercut to the triple chin of America’s gender blender equalists.

The difference between man and woman: the lion fights to the death for his cubs. The lioness goes into heat when an interloper kills her cubs.

The analogy that PA draws explains why women are more amenable than men to voting for politicians who will open the borders to mass quantities of alien races. It’s just a simple fact of sex differences that women come pre-installed with a submission algorithm that executes with a supine ferocity at the exact moment a stronger, more self-confident tribe of men overruns their own men wracked with doubt and enfeeblement.

Islam (president Gay Mulatto’s preferred religion of affinity) is the ultraviolent tribe currently laying waste to the West’s shibboleths, if not the West’s lands, but give it time…if enough shibboleths fall, the spiritually impoverished people of the West will cede their lands with barely a fight (and more likely than not with an excuse for why ceding territory is a moral imperative). And if the estrogenized transom is any indication, too many women are rushing to defend Muslim interlopers from whitemalepatriarchychristianbigotsgunlovingredneckbiblebeltthumpers. Western women are figuratively, and in some cases literally, going into heat for the marauding morlocks.

Does this mean women are innately treacherous? As a political question, maybe. But I would say as a judgment on their character, no, women are who they are: by nature maximizers of their reproductive fitness, and that means to save their valuable eggs they’ll submit to the men with the most passion for conquest. They know not what they do, iow, except how to survive in a world only superficially moved beyond its primal energies.

The answer to the Woman Question, as PA alludes, is for the men of the West to deny the interloper lions access to their lionesses. Accomplish that, and their women won’t feel compulsions to shift allegiance.

If you’re a man over 30, you have something to look forward to as you prepare to navigate the post-nightclub scene sexual market: the gradual accretion of two powerful male attractiveness traits.

  1. Social status
  2. ZFG (zero fucks given, aka outcome independence)

Social status accumulates over decades for a man, because his social worth is tied less to his youthful looks than to his connections, social savvy, experiences, business acumen, and character. (A woman’s social status has two peaks: one, higher, peak when she is at her most attractive – early 20s – and a second peak when she becomes a mother and family caretaker.)

A man’s social status is loin of the realm in the mate bazaar, easily bartered for fresh poonmeat. Women are irresistibly attracted to men who are well-regarded by lots of admirers or who have lots of friends and supporters they can lean on for favors. This is an evolutionarily adapted trait that helps women FMAC (find meet attract commit to) men who are capable of MASS ACQUISITION of material resources to bring to the raising of their children. Social status is the man who walks into a party and everyone’s eyes light up with anticipation and joy. Women notice this about a man, and they react reflexively to the spectacle his presence incites.

Generally, older men will have more social status than younger men. It’s not a guarantee, but it is the way to bet.

ZFG (aka self-possession) also accumulates with a man’s age. While it’s theoretically possible to regress from zero fucks given (zfg) to numerous fucks given as one gets older, it’s very uncommon. There are two reasons for this: one, a man’s self-confidence tends to grow along with his wealth, accomplishments, bedroom experience, and social skills. Self-confidence relaxes the ego, granting it a flexibility that fortifies it against minor insults that then are easily brushed-off by the man who is secure in himself. Insecure, low self-esteem men don’t usually have the requisite ZFG to arouse women, and it shows in their quickness to anger at the slightest provocation or in their transparent, sour grapes butthurt when a woman slips them the sass.

Two, physiological age-related changes in the male brain sweep it clean of over-sensitivities. Remember when you were a teenager, how one throwaway affront could send you into a frenzy of self-examination and/or rageful retribution? You’d mull over that little calumny as if it were a final judgment handed up by Lucifer himself. You could call this inner frame, IFG: Infinity Fucks Given. It’s painful, but its hold over your psyche greatly loosens after high school, though it still continues through the 20s, typically in the form of anguished mental replays of first dates that went south or of ambiguous flirtations by cute girls playing hard to get.

Once a man passes 30, it’s almost magical how suddenly IFG will dissipate into a weak facsimile of its former emotional grip. Something about aging into a grown man with real responsibilities and a collected history of romantic failures and successes buffers him against myriad slights by other men and by opaque women. You could say it’s a dullness permeating the aging brain that fortuitously protects it from excruciating self-doubt, but I think instead it’s the opposite: a heightened awareness of the meaninglessness of most people’s opinions, especially opinions on the nature of one’s character or desirability.

So these two developments — the gain of social status and ZFG — are advantages that older men enjoy in the quest for pussy. And they are big advantages, maybe the biggest. It would be unwise to scoff at the notion of their pull over women. A socially prominent man who is amused by women’s shit tests and unfazed by men’s challenges is akin to a beautiful feminine woman in the fullness of youthful fertility. He is a commodity that women will fight each other to claim as their own.

***

You’ll notice I didn’t include “money” in the traits that specifically benefit older men in the sexual market. That’s for a good reason. In my observation of the players I’ve known, there’s really not a lot of difference between making 40K/yr and 100K/yr as an influencing factor on women’s attraction. About the only difference there could be is one of self-confidence; men who make more tend to project more swagger and that’s what women find attractive, not the money per se.

Money itself doesn’t really start to affect a man’s SMV until it brushes with the SES stratosphere. If you have a million in the bank and pull a solid six figure income, allowing you to tool around in exotic sports cars, then yes women will magically gravitate into your orbit. But few men under 60 reach that kind of wealth, so it’s largely a hypothetical SMV boost that isn’t necessary to attract and bed cute girls.

Sharon Stone is a long way from her star turn in the movie Basic Instinct as a femme fatale who flashes her vaj during an interrogation. Thirty years on, paying audiences don’t want to see her vagina anymore. And, if the bitterness and sour grapes that drip from this recent interview with Stone are any indication, not many quality men in her real life want to see her vagina either.

After two divorces and decades in the business, Sharon Stone isn’t looking for a casual romance.

How convenient.

The 58-year-old actress opened up to AARP magazine about the effects of aging on both her personal and professional life.

“Obviously it’s pretty easy to get a date,” she said. “But to me, my life is so full. I don’t want to take time out to just go on a date, or to just have sex with a stranger.”

Translating from the hamsterese: “There’s a whole world between ‘sex with a stranger’ and involuntary solitude, but I can’t access it because obviously it’s pretty hard to get a date with a man who doesn’t eat his own boogers as a woman over 50.”

“At this point, I get more satisfaction – physically, spiritually, emotionally – from a smile, a laugh, a warm conversation or a really sexy look,” she told the magazine. “You know the way a man can look at you? Where you know he really sees you? I don’t want to be with someone unless it’s like that.”

The above is what age-related low libido looks like in words.

The aging beauty claims to seek romantic perfection as an ego emollient to avoid the crushing reality that imperfect romance isn’t even an option for her anymore.

Why pick on Sharon? Isn’t her personal torment enough punishment? The problem is that, unlike most aging women who must nurse their fantasies and shill their platitudes in private or to a small audience of immediate family and close friends who know better, Stone has a public platform to spread her lies to impressionable younger women who can’t see through the bravado to the sexual market rejection hurt underneath. At the margins, some younger women could be convinced, to their detriment, by Stone’s false pride that playing the field until late middle age is a viable route to life happiness, instead of what it really will be: a big mistake.

Making an example of Stone is a lesson for the others to avoid the same lonely fate. Prime fertility women need to know with the utmost seriousness that it will NOT be easy for them to get a date at age 58, with ANY man, and an old lady saying otherwise is blowing smoke up their skirts. Platitudes are cute when no one really believes them, but they’re downright malevolent when asserted with righteous authority as truth.

I chubbed a little writing this post’s title. But it’s true, (despite my penchant for indulging in hyperboney). The Game technique known as qualification — i.e., having standards and demanding women meet them — is rocket-fueled tingle induction. It takes balls to pull it off….most men can’t even fathom dealing with women in anything other than an appeasing mindset. But when your typical prime pumpability hottie hears a man challenge her to rise to his expectations, she almost can’t believe her luck. What a breath of fresh air compared to the parade of betas who ask nothing of her but how far backwards to bend in cloying supplication!

On this theme, a reader (@kingcrimson88) writes about his experience using the qualification line “how normal are you” on a girl.

Response rate is up at least 50% w/ opener ‘how normal are you’. Dat qualification👌🏼 Thanks CH.

hownormieareyou

Bait and hook. Now all he needs to do is reel and release to heighten the sexual tension. The first thing you’ll notice after dropping a qualification MOAB on a woman is how eagerly she steps to the challenge. It’s as if she’d spent her whole life up until she met you trapped in a purgatory with men who had no idea she needed to feel like she was working for their interest.

As a seduction technique, qualification is an accelerant. As a tool for achieving life goals, it’s indispensable. That’s right, the same pickup wordplay that will arouse a girl’s romantic curiosity is the frame of mind that will help a man find the right woman, the right career, and the right friends for himself.

Boldly and unapologetically exploring the subjects of, for example, a woman’s religion, worldview, values, strengths, and weaknesses will help a man better screen out incompatible lovers for long-term commitment and identify those women (or that one special woman) who best complement his life and his ambitions, and vice versa.

You aren’t just qualifying women to improve your odds of getting laid; you’re also helping yourself find love and happiness.

Some Mexicanamerican judge is set to rule against Trump in a lawsuit concerning Trump U. Trump went to the samizdat airwaves to claim, rightly, that the judge’s Mexican heritage means there’s a really good chance the judge could not be impartial in his ruling.

Commenter Rum cogently explains the essential truth of Trump’s charge against the judge, and how that truth is becoming truer in our polyglot, Babelling post-nation. For this brilliant insight, Rum walks off with the coveted Chateau COTW.

DTs recent comment about the judge overseeing one of the lawsuits he is dealing with struck me at first as being off-key.
He repeatedly called the guy a “Mexican” although he was born in the US and is, of course, a citizen.
And there is the fact that challenging the fitness of a judge on the basis of heritage or personal politics has long been considered out of bounds.
Then it occurred to me. Yes, that would be out of bounds in a coherent nation state. But what if we now live in an emerging multi ethnic empire? That is a very different thing.
I think that DT is throwing down another gauntlet. He is saying, in effect, “Reverse the move toward being a multi-ethnic empire or we (his supporters) will start acting on the premise that the USA actually is one.” That is, “white” people will begin to manifest concern for their explicit self interest just like any other group.
In other words, the meaning of “we” changes when an historic nation state turns into something else.
He is calling their (the elites) bluff.

Impressed.

Trump is playing the long game, and the elite don’t know how to respond except with recourse to their tired, worn-out quiver of empty smears: racist, sexist, pro-white-ist. All it took was one man with brass balls to, as Rum wrote, throw down the gauntlet and shove the consequences of a multi-muddy third worldifying America into the faces of the effete white libfags who claim to admire their grotesque creation. Let them choke on it.

As for the details of the Trump U case, a judge having nonWhite genetic lineage isn’t necessarily disqualifying from ruling on cases in which the defendant has expressed tacit pro-White America feelings, but it is surely a leading indicator that the judge will rule in a biased manner, consistent with the natural, emotional tribalistic baggage he autonomically brings to the court.

On my travels to the four corners of the globe, I’ve noticed something very telling about the casual fashion choices White women make within different contexts. Yoga pants, as most of you know, have been staples of the White woman wardrobe for years. Basically, yoga pants are underwear, worn in public. Most styles are extremely tight, some have thigh cuts that are see-through, and all display the camel toe in its full glory, leaving little to the imagination. A few styles cut a crevice so deep in the ass cheeks you can just make out the rusty starfish.

So yoga pants are the striver class-approved slut outfit for SWPL women who want to flaunt their sexy bodies and then bitch about beta males, who have the gall to possess functioning libidos, ogling them. See, proles and SWPL ladies are more alike than not; their goals are the same, but they choose to achieve those goals via different pathways of expression.

Anyhow, to the chewy center bursting with Bartholin’s flavor. In the blacker neighborhoods — the ones gentrifying but still menacing enough to put a pep in the step of Whites who venture out after 7pm or have to walk past throngs of friendly “teens” — you will rarely see White women in yoga pants. They are more conservatively dressed. Jeans are common. Leggings with a long-ish dress or skirt over them are also common. In the heat, shorts are tasteful; no underbutt. I’m talking about SWPL White women here; the ones with mid-paying jobs, sterling Women’s Studies credentials, and big brains they drown in mimosa juice. I’m not talking about the mudshark dregs with the tattoos and needle marks.

In contrast, in the Whitest huetopias, the skin-tight, labia-compressing yoga pants are everywhere. Where da sluttily-dressed White women at? In White neighborhoods. What’s going on here?

I have a thought. Striver White women soaked in a lifetime of feminist tankgrrl indoctrination dress to attract alpha males (while having to deal with the risk of sending the wrong advertising signal to beta males), and they dress to flaunt the power inherent in their number one asset (their figures, culminating to a point at the mons pubis). In White neighborhoods filled with hirsute hipster goons concealing weak jawlines, White women feel unrestricted freedom to flaunt their creases and cracks. This freedom makes them power-drunk, and they love the torment (or thought of it) that they can cause to erupt in the silent skullcases of fearful beta males ogling them from a safe distance.

In the blacker zones, this strategy doesn’t work. Way too risky. Black-on-White women rape is epidemic (leftie White women know this even though they’d never admit it). A darkpool of dindu nuffins loitering on a street corner, veins coursing with the liberating elixir of low impulse control, will not let a yoga pants sloot, with looks that shame the mammoth black beasts the brothers are used to boffing, walk by unmolested. One thing blacks don’t do: cast sidelong, shy glances from a distance while pretending not to notice the lingerie show strutting down the street. They will let a slutty White women know, in so many jungly hoots and howls, that her goods are the sheeeeiit, and they intend to sample them.

Naturally, there will be no White hipsters to white knight for her. And justifiably so. What noodle-arm would risk a five-on-one swarm because he stood up for the honor of some cunty careerist feminist White woman who thought it would be a good idea to display the contours of her vagina to the Congo line?

This, of course, scares feminist White women. Scares them enough that they shelve the yoga pants in favor of more modest attire when blacks are a significant part of the outdoors scenery. Then, in their spite and resentment and bitterness at having to concede the core reactor of their female power to a stronger force (naggers), they will go home and spew a river of Tumblrrhea about misogynist, racist White guys who oppress the POC.

One solution to this impasse: White beta males can start hitting on yoga panties and make them pay at least a small psychic cost for their skanky exhibitionism. The results of shifting White women’s expectation bias are a positive development for White men: Either a more chaste White womanhood emerges that defers as obsequiously to White men as to Machete-Americans, or White betas start scoring more poon which boosts their confidence and swagger and thereby coaxes some respect from the SWPL White women who for now can only spare their respect for the urban orcs that forcefully extract it from them.

Upgrayyed

Tell me Michelle doesn’t look like she’s checked out of her marriage.

upgrayyed

president Gay Mulatto, as per usual, sits in the Supreme Gentlefag position. Does he see what’s going on? That face he’s making says he does, and doesn’t care. Their marriage is a loveless sham. Was the Presidency worth it?

Physiognomy Is Real

CH’s Shitlord of the Month winner:

Doanld Trump protest

Story.

America is starved for White testosterone. But across the land a T level rises. Let’s Make America High T Again.

A telling anecdote about the state of America’s girls and women:

In 15 years as a BSA leader I never heard dads speak so proudly as when saying that their daughters were tomboys.

I’ve heard the same thing from dads of daughters. One psychological urge at work here is the desire of fathers who secretly wished for sons to impart their unrequited longings onto their daughters. “Butching up” a daughter is a facsimile, however poor, of having the real thing… a son.

Another reason for this glorification of grrlpower and imputation of male sex roles onto daughters by beta dads is, it must be said, a subconscious kowtowing to the reigning feminist shrikegeist. The culture is so steeped in feminist idiocy and the attendant ugly woman project of training girls to grow up into ballbusting men (and of shaming men to become supplicating nancyboys) that it seems perfectly reasonable and normal for the regular dad on the suburban street to crow about reshaping his daughter into an androgynous weirdo with a penchant for throwing balls… but still like a girl.

If things are to change for the better, a full frontal assault by real-thinking men AND women is needed. The goal is to establish positive feedback loops to fight back the poz before it metastasizes.

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