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The Perfect Alpha Male Online Dating Profile

May 24th, 2013 by

A reader, somewhat drunk on his own amusement, passes along the Facebook page of the thoroughbred that sired the Kentucky Derby winner.

This is the father of the Derby winner. This is what your Facebook page should look like!

Ok.

In 2013

  • LEADING SIRE by North American earnings; 1st by N.A. stakes wins
  • Sire of America’s LEADING 3-year-old, Kentucky Derby winner ORB ($2,335,850)
  • 2013 2YOs in Training are averaging $264,667:Sale Topper at Barretts March – $675,000 colt;$625,000 filly and $550,000 colt at FT March; $485,000 and $370,000 OBS March colts
  • 5 SWs, 10 stakes wins: KY Derby (G1)/Florida Derby (G1) winner ORB; Peter Pan (G2) winner FREEDOM CHILD; Multiple GSW KAUAI KATIE ($633,000); La Canada (G2) winner/Santa Margarita (G1)-runner-up MORE CHOCOLATE; multiple 2013 SW MOON PHILLY
  • Co-#1 Sire of Experimental horses (6)
  • Best books yet coming of age:
    • 139 registered 2YOs of 2013
    • 146 foals of 2012

So far so good. Let’s have a look at that photo.

Nice. Looking pensively into the distance. Refusing to engage the female viewer head on. Absorbed with the world out there, as if plotting the overthrow of a faraway donkey kingdom. This is filly crack.

Any adventurous and creative readers are welcome, neigh, encouraged!, to craft an online dating website or Facebook profile like our stud horse’s above, except with a few words and photos changed to indicate the featured alpha male is a human and not a horse.

Wait, CH, I’m supposed to say I sired quality children and guided 146 “foals” to their coming of age?

Yep.

Beats droning on about your code monkey career and her love of travel. You might be surprised by how many… ahem… siring opportunities come your way.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Alpha, Game | Comments Off

The Soft Man, The Hard Man, The Cold Man

May 23rd, 2013 by

Which of the three photos in this series of the same man taken at different times in his life strikes you as the face of a hard alpha? A soft beta? A man who has checked out?

How about the man in this series?

And, finally, what about this man?

Make your guesses, then go to the original link to read the details. Are you being duped by manipulative lighting? Or does a man’s face really change to reflect the burdens and the expectations of his life?

If the latter, what you are seeing here is evidence that a man can become more alpha or less alpha, in disposition and even in expression, when circumstances intrude and decisions, sometimes life or death, have to be made. Maybe a man can’t go from 100% beta to 100% alpha on a dime, but he can increase his alpha at the margins. And the margin is all the edge you need, whether the situation you are in is firing at a nest of insurgents or walking up to a girl and capturing her imagination for a night.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Alpha, Beta, The Id Monster | Comments Off

A Beta Orbiter Gets The Green Light?

May 22nd, 2013 by

A teenage reader who writes coherently for his age (sensitive beta male alert) wants to know how to deal with a girl “””friend””” he has been orbiting for three years who recently has expressed an overt sexual interest in him.

I am 19 and have a very tricky situation with a girl who has had a boyfriend for around 3 years. Over this time we have remained very close and shared a mutual desire and attraction for each other. I am not naive and I know she has been leading me on quite badly, but recently it has become out of control.

After seeing her a few times in the last month I copped a series of texts from her (sober) which I dont know how to take. Frankly, they have made me angry.

her: “if things were different what do you think would happen? I think about it alot”

then,

“I feel so happy around you but it’s a dangerous feeling”

but it’s the last text I need advice on and what to do from this point on.

The other day she sent this:
“I want to act on this temptation, but that’s the problem. I can’t”

I know that this can’t end well because either she cheats and I’ll end up being hurt either way.

I would appreciate some advice on what I should do or reply. I have not been sucked in and I have taken the moral high ground and not believing her bullshit.

please help. thanks

You have two questions to ask yourself. One, are you Ok with abetting a “cheating whore” and risking the inevitable drama and ire of her boyfriend, plus any future grief she will likely bring upon you? Two, what should you do if you are Ok with it?

I put “cheating whore” in quotes, because at that age, the teenage years, relationships are vaporous and girls and boys jump in and out of them all the time. If you’re part of a religious community, this may not be the case; people might meet and get hitched by their early 20s, which, back-assessing, means that cheating on a boyfriend at age 19 (or thereabouts) is a serious adult-level offense.

If you’re willing to jettison any moral compunctions and assume the risk of a tryst fallout, then I have two words for you:

Beta bait.

Watch out! This girl’s swoony siren call will mean your shipwreck on the lonely cocks. You think it’s that easy to go from friend to lover after three years of stewing in the incel-zone? No, this won’t be a simple Peen 8===> Poos trajectory. Quality girls won’t wave you in like a plane, even when it looks like they’re waving you in, unless it’s to wave you off-course.

This is what you should take from her suddenly confessional texts: She had a fight with her boyfriend, or he’s ignoring her need for emotional closeness, and she’s reaching out for your attention the only way she knows how: by teasing you with her sexuality and manipulating your craving for romance. She knows from experience you’ll fly to her side if she hints at a remote chance for sex, and if you bite the bait, your best outcome is her head on your shoulder, massaging your hand, while she dumps all her frustrations with her boyfriend on you and pretends not to notice the bulge in your pants. If you were to then make for a kiss, you would quickly see the serenity evaporate from her face to be replaced by a fake surprise and hurt that you mistook her intentions.

The above scenario is the way to bet. I could be wrong, and she might really accept your desire if you assume her sincerity and act accordingly. Then all you would need to do is reply in a way that calms her fear of soiling her reputation but nevertheless moves the moment closer to when you and her can be together alone:

HER: “I want to act on this temptation, but that’s the problem. I can’t”

YOU: “Of course. Neither can I.” [good time for a disqualification] “I’ll be at X on Saturday. Meet me there.”

Just a straightforward evasion, DQ, and set-up for the final seduction. Never mind that it makes little logical sense to your male brain; all you need to know is that emotion is the coin of the realm in the twistopia known as the female hindbrain.

However, if she’s insincerely flirting (and my reading tells me she is), then you have to treat her like the attention whore she is. This means employ various game tactics to gain the upper hand, which, if your three asexual years together is any indication, she currently has in spades. So, don’t bite the beta bait. Play hard to get, agree and amplify, tease. For example,

HER: ”I want to act on this temptation, but that’s the problem. I can’t”

YOU: “Are you auditioning for a soap opera?”

or

YOU: “ok”

or

YOU: “I know! It’s crazy. You struggle with these feelings. But we can’t do a thing about it.”

or

YOU: “I know how hard it must be.”

or

YOU: “whoa, take a deep breath. this is all news to me.”

I like that you have refrained from replying so far. Forget the high moral ground; refusing to peck at her bread crumbs and shifting the balance of power in your direction is all the virtuous justification you need. And let there be no doubt, you must own the balance of power if you want a woman’s heart. Three years she’s been propped on that pedestal. Now it’s time for you to gently nudge her off and assume the pedestal for yourself.

[crypto-donation-box]

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How To Handle Self-Deprecating Fatties

May 21st, 2013 by

GLPiggy has a post about fat customers at his restaurant joking about their weight and putting wait staff in a difficult spot.

A co-worker at the restaurant came looking for my wisdom the other day.  “What do you say when a fat customer jokes about their weight?”  This happens a lot in booth sections, by the way.  Fat people struggle to squeeze into booths and, because they are embarrassed about it, make light of their size.  I have a friend at work who makes jokes about being big. I don’t bite by lying and automatically saying that she’s skinny.  She’s not fat, but she’s not skinny.  I just don’t want to play that game so I tell her, jokingly (yeah, I cop out), that it’s not right to put people on the spot like that.  You’re either begging for a lie or making that person feel like a jerk for agreeing.

How people should respond to self-deprecating fatties and how people will respond are two different things. Here is how people will respond, based on the type of person subject to the awkward fatty self-flagellation:

Fatty: “Oh, wow, I must be getting fat. I can’t fit into this booth.”

Thin woman: “No, you look good!”
Thin woman, later with her friends: “Did you see that fat bitch?”
Fat woman: “No, you look good!”
Fat woman, later to herself: “What a fat bitch.”
Omega male: “No, you look good!”
Omega male, later to himself: “I wonder if she liked me?”
Beta male: *smiles and nods sympathetically with pursed lips*
Beta male, later with his friends: “I’m getting tired of these fat chicks hitting on me.”
Alpha male: *blank stare*
Alpha male, later with his friends: “Hey, Beta Male, the really cute chick at table six wants you to come out and say hi. Says she knows you from her World of Warcraft guild.”
Alpha male who doesn’t care about losing his job: “Admitting you have a problem is half the battle.”

The following is how people should respond with an eye on shaming the nation of human supernovas to end their sixty year gromance with self-inflicted deformity:

Fatty: “Oh, wow, I must be getting fat. I can’t fit into this booth.”

Avatar of Lightness: “Yup.“

Chuck likes the idea of “agreeing and amplifying” a fatty’s self-deprecation. So, for instance:

Fatty: “Oh, wow, I must be getting fat. I can’t fit into this booth.”

Avatar of Lightness: “You and me both!” [this is even funnier if you’re skinny and patting your flat stomach while saying it] “I’ll put you down for a Diet Coke then?”

Or, if you prefer to insert your Shiv with more subtlety:

Fatty: ”Oh, wow, I must be getting fat. I can’t fit into this booth.”

Avatar of Lightness: “Don’t worry about it. The booths are made for anorexics. Anyone who judges you is just jealous.”

The game lesson here is as applicable to girls who self-deprecate as a way to “entrap” beta males as it is to fatties seeking a sympathy compliment. You can validate them and play their game, or you can joust and play your game.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Hungry Hungry Hippos, Psy Ops | Comments Off

Comment Of The Week

May 20th, 2013 by

corvinus shoots, and lips it in:

I’d swear that Japan is the closest thing we have to an authentic extraterrestrial civilization.

Extraterrestrial generally connotes “advanced” in the popular mind. If you can make it here (from way out there)…

If advancement + borg morality + androgynous weirdness = ET, the Japs are the homegrown ETs of earth. (Love you folks, don’t ever change. Keep those borders right, tight and outta sight.)

Equally interesting is which “civilization” is the closest thing the earth has to an archaic throwback that missed the evolutionary party.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Comment Winners | Comments Off

An Alpha Daddy’s Letter To His Little Girl (About Her Future Husband)

May 20th, 2013 by

Dear Cutie-Pie (I call you this pet name because I subconsciously know how important your cuteness will eventually be to your future reproductive and marital success),

Recently, your mother and I were searching for an answer on the government spy agency known as Google. Halfway through entering the question, GovGoog returned a list of the most popular searches in the world. Minutes later, my tax return was flagged for auditing. Perched at the top of the search list was “How to keep him interested.”

It amused me. I scanned several of the countless articles about how to be sexy and sexual, when to bring him a beer versus a sandwich, and the ways to make him feel smart and superior.

And I got a knowing look.

Little One, it is, has always been, and always will be your job to “keep him interested.” Just at it will be your future husband’s job to keep you interested. Everyone knows this is true, despite loser mafia protestations to the contrary, and that’s why this search result, the culmination of millions of user search entries, is the first one returned.

Little One, your only task is to know deeply in your soul — in that unshakeable place that isn’t indoctrinated into feminism and resentment and mass media bromides — that you are judged for your worth. (If you can remember that everyone else is judged for their worth also, the battle of your happiness in life will be mostly won. But that is a letter for another day.)

If you can assess your worth in this way, you will be attractive in the most important sense of the word: you will work hard to stay fit and sexy and feminine and attract a boy who is both capable of self-assured masculinity and who wants to spend his one life not secretly despising you for giving up on him and disrespecting his normal, natural desires as a man.

Little One, I want to tell you about the man who doesn’t need to be kept interested, because he knows you’ve given up trying to be interesting:

I don’t care if he puts his elbows on the dinner table — because it’s worse when he puts his eyes on the way your nose scrunches like a walrus sniffing rotten fish in the air when you smile, and starts to hate you. And then can’t stop hating you.

I don’t care if he can’t play a bit of golf with me — because his short game suffers when he’s pissed off his children are ingrates trained by your passive-aggressive style of parenting to despise him and he’s not quite sure one of them is his. Sadly, his daughter is taking after you lengthwise and widthwise and you’re doing nothing to stop it because GRRLPOWER and PATRIARCHY.

I don’t care if he doesn’t follow his wallet — because the money just goes to buy you bon bons and cheesy poofs.

I don’t care if he is strong — because if he were strong he might trade you in for a woman who’s still interested in maintaining an hourglass figure and a sweet heart.

I couldn’t care less how he votes — because the sitting White House occupant is not the one who has to wake up every morning and see your flabby carcass rolling over to refuel with a strategically placed bowl of chips on the nightstand first thing in the morning.

I don’t care about the color of his skin — because your shelf butt is so stupendously grotesque my objections will only fall on deaf ears when you discover your own men don’t want to paint a canvas of your lives with brushstrokes of patience, and sacrifice, and vulnerability, and tenderness.

I don’t care if he was raised in this religion or that religion or militant Islam – as long as he was raised to value the sacred and to know every moment of life, and every moment of life with you, is deeply sacred assuming you wear the hijab and cover your bloated porcine face.

In the end, Little One, if you stumble across a man like that and he and I have nothing else in common, we will have the most important thing in common:

Your physical and temperamental attractiveness.

Because in the end, Little One, the things you should have to do to “keep him interested” are to be sexually experimental, fall within a 17 to 23 BMI and a 0.65 to 0.75 WHR, and treat him like the king he truly, deeply wants to be for you in your lives together.

Only then will you and he be happy and loving and patient and vulnerable and tender with each other.

Your eternally interested man (no creepy incest),

Daddy

***

This post is, of course, dedicated to my daughter, my Cutie-Pie. But I also want to dedicate it beyond her.

I wrote it for my wife, who has courageously held on to her slender figure and has always held me accountable to being that kind of “man” that women love — i.e., a man who doesn’t apologize for his desire.

I wrote it for every grown woman I have met inside and outside of my therapy office — the women who have never known this voice of a Strong Father.

And I wrote it for the generation of boys-becoming-manboobs who need to be reminded of what is really important — my little girl finding a loving, lifelong, alpha male companion who demands the best of her is dependent upon at least one of you figuring this out. I’m praying for you. No, seriously, I’m praying. Don’t let me down. I don’t want little manbooblets jerking off into furry costumes or little cuntlets blowing my savings on useless grad school Gay Studies degrees and bowing out at age 38 with an apartment full of cats and a womb drier than Death Valley (apropos).

***

This article has been featured on Huffington Post. CH is going mainstream!

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Feminist Idiocy, Hope and Change, Love, Tool Time | Comments Off

Should You Stay Or Should You Go?

May 17th, 2013 by

Did this reader succeed in passing the classic “let’s go meet X guy friend!” shit test from a girl he likes?

I would appreciate your take on how I handled a massive test of game. Feel free to post this email if you’d like.

Okay She’s 22 years old, pre med student. A solid HB9, she is at her absolute peak of SMV and with her intelligence and flawless body she’s well aware of this fact. I’m 32 and scored myself 20 on the Market Value Test.

I got her number at a bar on a Wednesday night by navigating a maelstrom of shit tests and dropping a well timed laser guided neg:

Me: (sit up in the chair lock eyes with her pause for a beat, then let out a dismissive chortle)
Her: (fully engaged now) What?
Me: Do you think you have the right disposition to be a pediatrician?
Her: (snaps up in her chair, turns towards me, leans in) What does that mean!?

Had 30 more minutes of conversation and get her number. She is almost sitting in my chair now, tons of interest. Right as she is leaning in and hanging on my words, with her hand on my knee, I stand up and tell her that I have to leave, but that she should text me for a drink sometime.

Here is where the fun starts. The next night (Thursday) she texts me asking if I’m out. I happened to be at a bar with friends, told her where I was and she immediately texts back that she was planning on heading there soon with her friends.

She shows up. Waves of attention surround her. She has 2 beta orbiters and another girl in tow, and every bar tender/bouncer/bar back guy in the bar knows her and instantly comes up and showers her with their beta affection. I ignore her presence and engage my group. She finally comes over and to say hello, she introduces me to her entourage. Now at this moment the group I came with are all leaving. They are saying their goodbye’s and of course I’m planning on staying a little longer. It’s important to note that the bar has thinned out at this point, only a handful of small intimate groups and pairs of people remain. I immediately ingratiate myself into her group, chatting up the chumps and putting them at ease, then shifting my focusing on her girlfriend and giving her lots of attention.

Now she drops a bomb on me:
She interrupts her friend mid sentence who was talking to me and says: “So glad you’re out!” Then addressing the whole group she says: “Oh, we have to go upstairs and say hi to (dude bartender)!” Everyone immediately agrees with their princess and they begin to follow (we were all standing during this conversation). The first thing I knew was that there was no way I was following her up there. I simply said nothing gave her my best bemused smirk and watched them walk up the stairs. I took a deliberate sip of my beer and caught her looking back to see that I wasn’t going to follow her up there. Now what? I can’t go upstairs and the bar is mostly empty and the groups of people would not be open to new people it’s too casual. I could sit at the bar and talk to the bartender, but she already was talking with him and he’s part of her crew. So, I just paid my bill and casually left.

I got a text from her 30 minutes later:
Her: (my name)!
Her: Come find me
Me: (20 minutes later) Next time

So, I know I played it good enough because she sent me a text and asked me out on Saturday evening saying that her plans fell through and she had extra tickets to a comedy show. I told her I had dinner plans (which I did with another girl). Against my better judgement I said I could meet her there after my dinner plans. And she went home with me after. (alpha smirk) I survived what was by far the hardest shit-testing-est girl I’ve ever encountered.

How else could I have handled that night? I wanted to show her that she has no control over what I’m doing and I did the best I could, but actually she did force me to do something I didn’t want to do. Because I didn’t want to leave. Truthfully I was enjoying her little group and it was fun conversation. But under the circumstances I didn’t see another out. Would love to hear your wise opinion.

A lot going on here, and not all of it relates to the question you asked.

First, if you banged her, (which you implied), why do you care about getting feedback on your game? You won. Enjoy it. Obviously, you did enough right for any minor missteps to not matter.

Second, the shit test she subjected you to was not, in my considered opinion, all that tough. You want a tough shit test? How about when a girl tells you right off the bat you shouldn’t have even imagined she was a remote possibility for you? Yes, this has happened to me. I said “Welp, there goes my in with your cute friend”. Making lemonade outta lemons, braheem…

Third, if your buddies left, and her friends all followed her upstairs to party with the bartender, why would you want to stay? Because you were having a fun time with them. Ok, if that’s the case, then you wouldn’t have given it a second thought about tagging along upstairs. But you did. Which means you had more on your mind than just the “fun” you were supposedly having. You wanted her alone, and other men didn’t figure into that equation. Be honest with yourself.

With your friends gone, and her chummy with the bartender and surrounded by her group of sycophants, I think you played the safe bet by jetting. Unless your social skills are excellent and you are an extrovert who can rapidly win over a new group and potential male competitors, the risk of getting “betatized” as the striving outsider to a small group of cackling insiders is too great. Hovering is the kiss of death for any courtship escalation.

However, contrary to the above judgment, it appears this girl liked you well enough before the night even began, and you could have stayed around longer without seriously risking any loss of her attraction. When she interrupted your conversation with her friend, that was a major tell (an IOI) that her interest was heating up.

Practically speaking, the next time something like this happens, and you find yourself torn between leaving a venue when you don’t want to and sticking around following a girl like a puppy dog, just tell your target that you’ll “catch up” with her in a bit. Then find someone else to talk with for a half hour before heading upstairs to continue with her what you had going on earlier in the night.

[crypto-donation-box]

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Body Men Vs Face Men

May 17th, 2013 by

If a man is presented with a choice between a butterface (ugly face, hot body, everything “but her face”) and a myspace angle (cute face, ugly body), his decision will depend in part on whether he’s down for a short-term fling or if he’s seeking a long-term lover.

The reason for this is not hard to figure out upon reflection: the prime directive is to survive and reproduce, and that means, for men, getting seed into womb (or wombs, as the opportunity may present). A man with pump and dumps on his mind will shift focus to girls with highly fertile bodies, placing less emphasis on their faces. His dividing rod will target women with 0.7 WHRs, 17-23 BMIs, fruitfully ripening in the age range of 22-29. Since he’s not planning on investing much time or energy in his little red curvette, he doesn’t sweat the worry of romantically gazing into the limpid eyes of a plain jane year after year.

A man who is more K-selected, i.e., more NW European white or East Asian (ain’t I a steenker!), feels a cosmic pull toward hitching himself to a woman for the long term so that his few kids have a shot to thrive in a resource-restricted environment. It’s the quality over quantity strategy. To this man, a woman’s facial prettiness matters, a lot. He’s gotta look at her and provide for her for a long time, and he won’t be much inspired to do either if her face isn’t intoxicating. The body is still important (fat chicks left out in cold again, news at 11), but now the contours of her face have become a crucial determinant of her acceptability as a mate. His dividing rod will be recalibrated toward younger women — ages late adolescence to mid-20s — with large, expressive eyes, small chins and jaws, and exquisitely molded subcutaneous fat deposits.

This is the theory. In practice, such choices rarely come up, because there is a strong correlation between a woman’s facial prettiness and her body attractiveness. When a rift between body and face does occur in the same woman, it is typically a butterface. Homely-faced women with slender boffable bodies are more common than pretty-faced women with unappealing bodies. Fat chicks stir the needle a little toward myspace anglers, but just a little, because it doesn’t take much weight gain until a girl’s face begins to display the deformity that is evident in her body. Another example of the myspace angler is the masculinized woman with a striking model-esque face tethered to a curveless body built for spiking volleyballs.

Another point worth making is that men, regardless of their mating strategies, will only choose between butterfaces and myspace anglers when they HAVE to choose. Most men, given a free choice, will choose women who are blessed with both. Plotting cads and plodding dads will both choose the woman who has it all, face and body (and yeah, personality too, I guess) if such a woman is a real prospect.

Originally, this post was meant as conjecture, based on observation and hunch. But to my surprise, there are ♥♥♥STUDIES♥♥♥ available for perusal which have looked into the issue of male preference for female body versus female face and how that preference might change depending on a man’s mating strategy. These studies, naturally, confirm CH hunches, as they almost always do, because it’s hard to be disproven by SCIENCE when you simply keep your eyes open to watch how the world works.

PS The Area Code Rating System is a handy method for efficiently categorizing your dates by their bangability and relationship worthiness. If you regularly hook up with 000s, might I suggest you lay off the absinthe?

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Biomechanics is God, Girls, Guy Rules, Self-aggrandizement | Comments Off

Bearing Witness To The Self-Destruction Of The Western Woman

May 16th, 2013 by

We have a guest posting today from a reader who passes along a story from his life which illustrates in vivid hues how the Western woman has become severed from the reality of the world and now chooses to live in escapist fantasy. This is an anecdote; there are many more stories like it. Reach a critical mass (heh) of these tragicomedies of the self-swindled and you can kiss America goodbye as a civilizational rampart.

******

I hope this email finds you in good heath. As the title suggests I am writing to you as I wish to bear personal witness to the self-destruction of the Western woman. Names and some details have been changed to protect the guilty. Of course you may use my email for your site, but do avoid using my real name. Instead call me… Cornelius… because it in no way resembles my actual name.

A little over ten years ago I met a girl through a friend of a friend. Her name was Francesca. No, this is not a tale of beta woe. Nothing romantic has ever happened between us and there has never been any attraction. Francesca was, even back then, a bit on the chunky side. I didn’t think much of her at first but as I got to know her better I realized we had some things in common and became friends with her. We kept in semi-consistent contact over the years, which has led to the situation today where she is temporarily staying with me while she is looking for a job. The circumstances leading up to this is the (self-destructively) interesting part.

Francesca was a good student in high school and was given a free ride to State-U where she majored in engineering (the same as what I majored in, which is one of the things our friendship was created over). Four years later she graduates and lands a job at well known firm bringing in about $50,000 a year. At this point she is 22 years old. Fast forward to when she turns 25 and we meet one day for lunch and a friendly catch up. She is very bored with her job and feels like she is doing nothing with her life (to be fair to her, I’ve done similar work as she was doing at the well-known-firm and it is very boring) so she has decided to give it all up and go back to college… for a degree in Art. I’m a little vague on the specifics of the degree, but the major she choose has something to do with drawing cartoons. Seems like a bit of an odd choice to me, but meh whatever it’s not my life. This is also where she mentions that she’ll have to take out student loans this time, but is confident everything will turn out ok. Now this did raise a bit of an alarm bell for me because she had been working the past three (or was it four? I’m a little vague on the exact timing) years bringing in $50k while living rent free in her parents home. Didn’t she have any money she could put forward to college? It’s not like she was a big “vacations and shopping sprees” girl. She was an engineer, and had the personality of one to match.

After she was in Art School for a while I ended up moving to a different part of the country for my job. Let’s fast forward again to today. It has been over a year since she graduated from Art School with her degree in… drawing cartoons… or something… and she still has no Art job. We had stayed in touch while she had been in college for a second time and it turns out that there are more art studios where I live than where she has been living, so I agree to host her for a time, while she tries to get on her feet and get an Art job.

Here’s where things take their bizarre (and self-destructive) turns. I haven’t seen chunky Francesca in person in about three years, but when she arrives she has turned into blimped-out Francesca. This was a bit of a startling change to me.  When I say blimped-out I want you to understand what I am getting at. Imagine a baby with all its chub and creases. Now imagine a fully grown adult version of all that chub and creases and you’ll get an idea of what Francesca now looks like.

It also turns out that she’s had a falling out with two of her hot friends. By “hot” I mean one of these girls has literally done modeling and the other could if she wanted to. When I asked her about her hot friends she was openly bitter about them, vague as to the cause of the falling out and made the comment that their looks “were the only thing they had going for them”. Well when a girl is model-hot that’s pretty much all she needs. Also, her hot-friends had a free ride to State-U so they couldn’t have been all that stupid. It’s interesting how since Francesca has blimped-out that she now makes regularly derogatory comments about attractive women. Except that it’s not interesting so much as a neon flashing sign of bitterness of Francesca’s own loveless state. In all the years I knew Francesca she had only one boyfriend she was lukewarm to. Perhaps she should have reconsidered while she was still only chunky.

While hanging out together a few times at some local spots she repeatedly mentions how she wishes it were obvious to other people that her and I were not there “together” because she found several of the men rather attractive. She was literally purring at one of them. I told her she should feel free to do whatever she likes in regards to these men, but on the inside I was thinking “madam, your shape is round and not even vaguely woman-like, none of these men would want you regardless of how much alcohol they had”.

Also, she seems to have formed a pathological attraction to my dog. Francesca will follow my poor black lab around the house trying to treat it like human child. He’ll only put up with so much of that before he will actually find places to hide (I never knew he could fit behind the sofa… I guess he never had the proper motivation before). This from a a woman who has adamantly and always held that she was never going to have children.

After she was here for about two weeks, we decide to visit some local attractions. While seeing the sights we stop at a local Starbucks for some caffeine and a seat. While there we engage in an interesting discussion about her student loans. Right now she is in loan deferment, but that time is soon coming to a close. To my shock it turns out that she took out $175,000 in student loans for her Art degree in drawing cartoons… at a 15% interest rate… and they expect her to pay it back in 10 years, which means she will be paying back about $338,000. (O_o) My calculator tells me that this is about $2800 per month just to cover her student loans. In case you’re wondering: no, her field of Art does not pay the kind of starting salary to cover that. Her attitude is that the companies that gave her these loans need to be reasonable and work with her. If she gets to the point where she can’t pay and they ruin her credit her attitude is “oh well, what can they really do to me?” (o_O) She also said that if she knew she would be graduating into this kind of economy that she never would have done it. Which makes me wonder exactly what kind of economy we would have to have where $2,800 / month in student loans for a degree in cartoon drawing would make sense.

Now I don’t know about you, but if I were in her position I’d be in crisis mode about now. Next Friday she will have been here for a month and as far as I can tell she spends most of her time in her room browsing the web or watching Mad Men. I did let her know at the start that after a “month or two” she would have to start paying rent if she wished to continue to stay here. As far as I know she has made no attempt to find even a part-time job.

What has happened to the West? There are days I seriously wonder if I am not surrounded by a large amount of people who have basically become un-moored from reality. And what happened to my friend? Francesca goes from pudgy nerdy engineering chick to blimped-out, money vacuuming, introverted, child-shaped-emotional-holing, rage against the pretty hate machine.

May the Gods of the Dark Enlightenment guard your safety,

Cornelius

******

Greg Cochran says that the trends currently underway in the West are unsustainable. America as an advanced technological and moral civilization is doomed, absent some sort of active intervention to thwart the collapse, whether that collapse takes the form of a sudden conflagration or a slow deterioration. But of course any such intervention would first require the ruling class accept the facts of the dysgenic trends, and stop their wallowing in pretty lies and leapfrogging for status whoring points. I have my doubts the facts will ever be honestly admitted by the lords of lies, so doom it is, and doom we shall get, unless by some cultural alchemical miracle the equalists, leftoids and feminists do a private about-face and essentially craft public policies refuting everything they believe in for the greater good of the nation and her posterity.

It is to HA.

The human ego is much too intransigent for that kind of common sense. Most likely scenario: bitterly clinging to shibboleths until the last iPad flickers out.

Next likely scenario: secession. Or, if the portals of hell open, bloodbath.

In the meantime, we shrug and tappity-tap pleading betaboy texts in our cells as another Western woman sacrifices her inherited bounty and blessed fortune at the altar of fudge brownies, caustic gogrrl-itude, useless art degrees, mountainous college debt, infertility, anthropomorphized animals, racial dispossession, cock carouseling, and the distractions of a sick and twisted entertainment culture intent on assuring her complicity in the humiliation of her heritage and of her men.

Well, not everyone. Your ever-gracious host shrugs, but only after he has cruelly driven The Shiv to the hilt, and tickled vital organs with its glittering tip. The writhing torment of enemies and fools brings voyeuristic pleasure, and great satisfaction knowing that it can never be said of The Shiv Wielder that he saw the face of a malignant foe cresting the hill… but did nothing.

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A Subtle Shift Away From Rightist Pusillanimity?

May 16th, 2013 by

A reader observes a late-breaking development:

One of the most encouraging things about the whole Richwine and Derbyshire brouhahas is an increased unwillingness to apologize for holding heretical opinions.

A lot of this is just . . . expectations.  This is where the left has overplayed its hand.  People adjust. The threat of losing your cushy high end think tank or teaching job only has power when you expect to keep that high end job.  But people with heretical opinions now expect to lose their jobs.  It’s not something shocking and new anymore, so it’s lost a considerable amount of its power.

Game can play into this too.  Basically, leftists can take away your job, but they can’t take away your ability to get laid.  PC shibboleths don’t cut it down at the bar, or in the bedroom.  Women will basically slit their own throats for a chance at high end cock, so if you don’t make it too glaringly obvious that you’ve been exiled from the precincts of good society even SWPL chicks will all too willingly gobble away at your veiny meat monster.

Richwine didn’t apologize for his crimethink. Derb never apologized for his (and in fact, took great offense when a leftoid with cratering ego issues implied he had apologized).

Are neoreactionaries (or neoreactionaries in practice) growing a pair? If so, that’s some hope and change one could support. The bursting of the Dam of Deceit may occur sooner than we think.

The West will be saved only by men with fully descended testicles unafraid to speak the truth when speaking it is anathema to the swarming armies of the self-annihilators. Crush the manboobs, see their pendulous titties swing before you, and hear the lamentations of their haggard feminists. You might be surprised how refusing to appease the loser misfits and snarky nancyboys of the world is compulsively attractive to even the most reflexively left-liberal women. Chicks dig a dude going rogue.

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