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CH’s resident shambassador from Daily Kos, The Spirit Within, is not a Trump fan.

FYI Last week McClatchey/Marist polls re: general election show the Democrat nominee beating the Republican nominee in every conceivable permutation of candidates…

…except one. Carson v Sanders. And the margin was only 2.

Trump is not the savior. In the projections, he lost the general to Sanders by 12 and to Clinton by 15. As his lack of expertise is revealed and as he makes more endless goofy speeches — he’s veering closer to Castro/Chavez/Camacho banana republic style politics — that gap will widen.

Keep pushing that charlatan on your readership, Heartiste. I’m sure you have your perverse reasons.

I’ll save your comment in the data bank for later retrieval, TSW, because I want to enjoy your meltdown squeals when the Trumpening heralds a new age and your words come back to bite you.

Confession: I have a soft spot for The Shitlib Within. Yes, he’s disingenuous and a shitlib (but I repeat myself), and he deploys just about every hackneyed, evasive leftoid rhetorical device in the Alinsky rules for race creationists when cornered by realtalk macroaggressions, but he/she/eskimo has a hokey earnestness which wrests a morsel of mercy from the dark lord. Plus, how can you not root a little bit for a guy who throws himself to the CH wolves here with such oblivious disregard for his dignity?

PS The McClatchy-Marist poll is the most liberal-biased of the polls that have attempted a hypothetical general election match-up. Most polls show a much closer race between Hillary/Sanders and Trump.

PPS I aggravated a nagging injury, which means I won’t be able to lift as hard for a stint, which means my T levels will dip below one million liters, which means I will start writing about the pompitous of love, the hidden beauty waiting to be discovered under gnarly vagina folds, fat acceptance, flavortown, the possibility of good lighting turning around Amanda Marcotte’s dating life, and the endearing hokey earnestness of The Sophist Within for a while. Hope you all can handle this whimsical ride on the feminine side.

Instagram Game (Instagame)

Text Game has been explored in-depth at CH, but not until now has Instagram Game received its due props. Check out this guy’s tight Instagame. (h/t Just Some Guy)

Had to post a picture with my baby, really mad Kaitlyn photo-bombed this. #fresh #stang #hoco

A photo posted by Cole McNamee (@colepm) on

And the coup de gash:

Technically, this isn’t pickup game per se because he’s obviously taking the piss with his girlfriend in these photos. However, it wouldn’t take much tweaking to turn Instagram into a pickup medium for single men.

The obvious benefit that comes to mind is social proof. You can Instagram yourself with girls who aren’t your girlfriend. Female preselection is kryptonite to blasé girls with fully operational bitch shields, and seeing you Game a girl buddy will intrigue plenty of third party observers, even if they know the girl with you is just a friend.

You can chat on Instagram, but not private message, so your chat game had better be good enough to pass the Jumbotron test. If you manage to acquire a lot of followers, girls will naturally be attracted to your Instafame.

Don’t ever “like” a girl’s pic (and don’t follow her before she follows you). Don’t be a thirsty chode. That means no “I’d stick a thousand needles into my scrote and walk across a mile of hot coals for a taste of your moist taint” anti-Game. That has never worked on a non-fatty in the history of the universe.

Neg girls on their own pics, and use your pics and chat skills to demonstrate high social value. If you travel a lot, IG is the perfect vehicle to quickly DHV to adventure whores, either abroad or back at home. (You’ll have to ask for the girl’s location if it comes to a request to meet IRL.) Mark your pics with tags of the city you’re in so local girls searching on them can find you.

Instagram would go well with a Photographer Identity.

NB, face-to-face game is still leagues better than social media game, so don’t elevate the internet to anything more than an adjunct to real life seduction. Online game is meant to be a slow cook crock pot simmering in the background of your sex life. The best advantage of Instagram is that it’s hardly any work at all; a passive, rolling DHV and hook gimmick that draws girls into your world… for you to make dirty with!

Executive summary:

– Use Instagame to pick up artsy chicks and minor fame whores who love looking at photos all day and dreaming of faraway lands.
– Emphasize travel shots, female preselection shots (pawns and pivots are your friends), adventure/extreme recreation shots, and humor shots (if you have the comedy chops). Also, if you are a high-flying businessman, shots of you in a bespoke suit at fancy events are choice.
– Don’t follow. Be followed.
– Leverage IG’s platform to efficiently neg and tease a lot of girls’ photos. This is how you quickly trigger attraction in girls.
– Properly tag your photos to capture the widest female audience possible.
– Avoid puppy and kitten pics, unless you’re using them as props for a one act badboy play. Cuteness makes girls smile, but not tingle.
– Move to chat, and then to RL, sooner rather than later.
– Submit your Instagram field reports to CH for harsh, but unerring, judgment.

This is a map of all the US states with governors who have sworn to refuse Syrian refugees.

Prophetically, this could also be the 2016 electoral map. (You can liken the yellow states to those Trump-leaning “centrists” who will pull for Trump behind an anonymizing voting booth curtain.)

Some of you are saying there’s no way Massholeachusetts votes Republican. Remember that Massholes had the pleasure of experiencing Diversity™ up close and personal when the Muslim Chechen bomb brothers enriched a Boston fun run. Massholes are also keenly aware that the dreamy Tsarnaev family gained entry into the US under refugee status. But… ingrates gonna ingrate, and now Massachusetts natives are, shall we say, less open to Obama’s spiteful high yella crusade to shove ululating vibrancy down their lily-White throats.

Blood-spilling has a way of focusing minds and turning off the spigot on bleeding hearts, and Bostonians discovered that even they, ür-leftoid avatars of GoodWhite status whoring, have a ceiling on their moral exhibitionism.

So Massa is no longer willing to say, “Please may I have another, Massa Morgan Freeman”, and are instead in the process of quietly walking back their leapfrogging moral universalist preening as the consequences of their posturing become more palpable.

Given this development, here’s a deal worth considering: How about we bring into America as many Middle East Muslim refugees (and the assassins who swim among them) as obama wants to bring in, on the condition that they are all resettled into wealthy super zips in blue state cities. A few million put-upon Muslims in the loft condos of the Upper East Side, the historic Victorians of San Francisco, and the leafy suburbs of Connecticut. Money should be no object; after all, this is “the right thing to do”.

Raise the leftoid moral signaling calculus beyond their hearts’ carrying capacity. Let’s see, truly see, just how much Diversity™ they can tolerate. Call it the patented CH “Breaking Wheel Theory of Ideological Durability”. Leftoids have been pushing BadWhites into a corner for a long time. It’s only faaaaaaaiiiirrr to return the favor.

Obama’s Psychology

CH neither endorses nor rejects this thesis by reader anon2 (but there’s probably something to it):

Everything about Obama’s psychology can be summarized thus :

His father married a white chick and then left. His father had a number of other kids and was ‘alpha’, at least relative to other shitlib manginas his mother knew.

He was unloved by his white mother (she later mudsharked with an Indonesian) and felt abandoned by her.

When he came to the US, white chicks didn’t want him. That bugs him to this day, especially since his father who was jet black still got a white chick, but mulatto Obama with an American accent, at a top University, could not get a white chick.

A predatory, ugly black giantess saw that this introverted, whipped boy could be bullied into marrying her. She proceeded with this coercion and while Barack caved, he resented this his entire life.

Now that he is POTUS, he could certainly get white chicks (status trumps all), but years with Michelle have killed his penis, and it has fully atrophied after having been away from female beauty for so long. Note that being married to the giantess is worse than being a porn-watching single incel.

Hence, his inability to get white chicks = hatred of white people = desire to obliterate white civilization to the best of his ability.

That is all there is to Barack Hussein Obama.

My suspicion is that the half-breed princess is a down low m00-lah-toe. Dirty little secret: there’s a higher percentage of homosexuals among blacks than any other race. (I’ve read but cannot confirm that eskimos also have an unusually high percentage of snowmosexuals in their tribe.)

Contrary to blue pill unwisdom, it’s not mom jeans-wearing beta males or conspicuously dysfunctional omega males whom girls shit test the most; it’s greater beta/lesser alpha men striving for quality in their mate choice who are the primary targets of female shit tests.

And it’s not the hottie girls who most frequently deploy shit tests; it’s the mere-cute girls who have a reasonable uncertainty of their place in the sexual market hierarchy. (The fugs and HB10s are confident of their place in the henpecking order, but the girls in the middle have a lifetime of SMV status jockeying to look forward to.)

The dynamic isn’t hard to grasp. When a low to middling sexual market value man hits on a legit hottie, she will let him down easy. There’s no benefit to her from harshly rejecting lsmv suitors; she gets to feel a warm magnanimous glow from treating her obvious lessers well, AND she affords herself a measure of personal safety by not unnecessarily antagonizing potentially vengeful losers.

But when a middling to above-average SMV man hits on a borderline cutie with delusions of glamour, the female shit test protocol is activated with extreme prejudice. The shit test is a subconscious program initiated in a woman’s hindbrain which helps her determine if that striver greater beta male or lesser alpha male is really the sexy stud he is trying to project, or if he’s a paper pickup artist who will crumple under the withering assault of her snarky banter (which of course she thinks is flirting but which men of tender constitution will mistake for bitchy rejection).

Why is the borderline cutie the most egregious abuser of the shit test? The reason is because she doesn’t possess the incontestable beauty of a genuine hottie to buttress her self-conception; her relationship material attractiveness to men is less certain and more dependent on contextual variables such as how her competition stacks up and the motivations of the men expressing interest in her. To the borderline cutie, then, the shit test is a valuable courtship tool which serves the dual purposes of 1. propping up her shaky ego when men come to her yard to judge her milkshake worth (c.f.: sour grapes fallacy) and 2. determining if the men at or above her own SMV are legitimate ZFG contenders for her ZOMG heart, or if they are boring beta herbs in cad’s clothing.

All girls shit test when the suitor stars are aligned, but it’s the girls in the gray zone of pulchritude — the 4s, 5s, 6s, and 7s — who resort to the practice with the greatest alacrity. The homely girl may shit test the loser man, but any other men breaking the 20th percentile in SMV status will never hear a shit test from her, not as the shit test is commonly understood. (They might hear a grunt or a brusque cockblock interjection or a feminist diatribe, but never a romantically pregnant, eye twinkly shit test.)

The beautiful girl will likewise infrequently shit test, but when she does her targets will be men at the other end of the SMV spectrum: the alpha males and the men aspiring to alpha maledom. All other men (the great majority) will receive asexual banter or gentle brush-offs from the beauty… or, if they’ve made a real nuisance of themselves, eye rolls and verbal signals to girl friends for escape assistance.

It’s those desperate darlings in the fluid middle of the belle curve who level shit tests at just about every man who shows interest in them. Only upper echelon alpha males get a pass from the borderline cutie’s shit tests (for obvious reasons). Omega dregs also get a pass from shit tests (but not from shrieks of horror).

So why are aspiring greater beta males and lesser alpha males striving for the lass ring the most frequent recipients of female shit tests?

BECAUSE they strive.

Aiming for something better than what is assumed the due of the mediocre masses marks you out as a man to take seriously. A man an uncut above the rest. A man, therefore, with high sexytime value. Once you have pinged a cutie’s romance radar and tickled her tingle repository, she will reflexively lob a fusillade of shit tests great and small to happily confirm, or regrettably refute, your coalescing poonslayer profile. (Obligatory NAWALT placeholder here.)

The man who SKILLFULLY STRIVES for the best girls gets the most shit tests because he is perceived both as a man of self-regarding rarity and as a man capable of quickly bursting the neurotically self-doubting cutie’s carefully manicured ego.

The greater beta/lesser alpha SKILLFUL STRIVER — aka the bold man of intention possessing a nascent social savviness that evades the typical beta — is a man the cutie strongly desires, because he is also a man the cutie strongly perceives as attainable, as open to long-term relationship possibility, and as the best she will get in that moment.

THAT is why she shit tests him so eagerly. Pulses of white hot love have melted the neural bonds governing her propriety.

There is a field-tested premise that applies: girls only drop shit tests on men for whom they feel a budding attraction. It is a true fact. If you are getting shit tested by a girl, there’s a good chance your company has elicited in her rudely intrusive thoughts of your bangroom, as envisioned through her inner eye’s swirl of prophetic ecstasy, and of your gleaming conquest bed on whose sheets she twists.

***

NB: the shit test is a separate concept from the neg. You neg bona fide hotties even when they aren’t shit testing you because they come pre-equipped with an SMV self-awareness index topping 100. You don’t necessarily need to neg girls who are shit testing you, if those girls aren’t ultrababes. The neg is not meant to be a response to a shit test (in fact, using it as such can backfire on you); the best responses to shit tests are ones adhering to the Agree&Amplify or the charming jerkboy formats.

The Point Of Obvious Untruths

“Anonymous” has a great comment explaining the motivation of the Lords of Lies.

As Fabian Saulinsky pointed out over on MPC, “We’re really living in a world that resembles the final years of the Soviet Union, when the State Media existed as little more than a status signaling tool of the elite designed to humiliate and demoralize via punishing repetition of obvious untruths.”

(For Trek nerds, think of the torturer ranting at Picard that there were five lights and demanding Picard agree with him. It wasn’t because the torturer believed it and wanted company in his delusions, it was just another form of abuse.)

However, it seems the Goebbels-lets in charge of Harrison Bergeron’s megaphone, Salon in particular, have broken the first rule of drug dealers everywhere – namely by sneaking hits of their own product – and have succumbed to the inevitable brain damage. They now merely drivel transparent clickbait that can have no purpose but to further enrage sane people. The Onion can no longer parody them effectively because parody would imply coming up with something more ridiculous, more nakedly contemptuous of their audience, than what they happily say already.

Case in point, a year ago they were giggling that it was racist to worry about Ebola. The logical endpoint of their encroaching lunacy would be to state that you’re a racist unless you take out a billboard ad with your home address, begging third world savages to do a Wichita Horror on your family, then deed over your property to whichever of them gets there and does the “job American’s wont do” first.

Who knows, maybe the true believers will take them up on it.

The equalist leftoids who occupy most positions of power in the West are brazen hypocrites; most of them don’t believe their own bullshit, yet they spout it endlessly. The reason is because they want to humiliate you. To see you figuratively on your knees, your will bent in service to repeating their lies as if they were truth, and thus your identity — your soul — stripped of autonomy and coerced into servitude to your putative betters.

Well, CH says fuck that noize. You come here and you’ll learn to rise to your feet, and stare down the leftoids who claim a mantle of moral purity but who are in reality cruelty artists with a sadistic streak a mile wide (but an inch deep).

This is a good time to remind the equalist cruelty artists that there’s one foe who makes you piss your pajama boy pants: another cruelty artist with an additional quality you lack.

Style.

“France Hits Back!”

This is all so drearily familiar.

– White Western nation opens borders to millions of muslim migrants.
– A muslim terror ring pulls off an attack in the heart of said White Western nation.
– Western nation responds with moments of silence, effete symbols of solidarity, reaffirmations of commitment to multicultural dispossession of native Whites, and a few bombs flung from the stratosphere onto abandoned campsites in the desert.
– Bubba cheers.
– Western leaders ignore nation’s open borders, preferring instead to acculturate its citizens to expect more genital patdowns of elderly nuns at the airport.
– muslims continue streaming into Western nation, more embittered and full of rage against the West.
– Another attack in heart of Western nation. Trend is toward higher kill ratios.
– Another bombing sortie against the desert.
– Bubba cheers.
– Western leaders ignore nation’s open borders, engage in all-out semantic war against “nativists”, and issue a flurry of executive orders bringing more muslim refugees into Paris and Mobile, Alabama.

Repeat ad infinitum until demographic and spiritual displacement of Whites from their homelands is complete.

Something’s got to break the cycle. Will Bubba eventual stop getting deliriously distracted by desert bombing sorties long enough to WAKE UP to what is really happening to him and his kind?

Meanwhile, the bodies of Frenchmen still warm on the ground, president Butt Naked commits high treason (again) when he announces at a meeting of globalist Davosians that “not all Syrian refugees are terrorists” and he will act to resettle more freedom-loving Syrians into small town, post-Christian America.

Start the countdown to the next attack….

***

In related high treason news, British officials have made an arrest in the War on Terror.

Police arrest woman for ‘racially abusive’ Facebook post banning Muslims from beauty salon because it is ‘time to put my country first’.

I feel safer already.

***

This is the change we can believe in.

***

More hope and change:

After the Paris Diversity™ attacks, native White sons of the French soil girded their loins and steeled their hearts for the long war against the enemy. They picked up arms and held aloft their banner.

But there stirred among these newly forged White European warriors a rebel alliance with a different banner. This small by growing contingent believed that the modern ways of White self-preservation were outmoded, ineffective, dispiriting, and even self-defeating. Their banner was different; it crackled with vitality and with strength.

One of these banners is the pennant of the pussy. Those with full scrotes and clear minds will know which, and they will mass under the other banner. Those left crying and wailing in feminine solidarity under the ruling class-approved banner will fall to defeat, either on their knees or in their pooling blood.

The choice could not be starker. Will you choose the easy path, the path of the pussy? Or will you choose the path of purposeful Identity.

It’s clarifying to think of the Paris attacks as a front in the larger War of White Dispossession (aka the Swarm Wars). Muslim aggression can be therefore viewed as a consequence, rather than a cause, of the attrition of White spirit as they go down to one defeat after another in the Dispossession Wars. An acceptance that we are in the midst of a War of White Dispossession means that the prime enemy isn’t Islam. It’s our own White elite.

Don’t believe me that Whites are losing a War of White Dispossession waged by their own ruling classes? Spend the next few days, while the blood of young Parisians is still being mopped off the floors, counting how many Western European leaders and opinion-molders make full-throated calls for WALLS and DEPORTATIONS of non-European non-whites. The number will be vanishingly small. And of those few who do utter tentative concessions to the idea that White homelands are sacrosanct and deserve race-conscious stewards, count the number of days their flirtation with TRUTH and BEAUTY remains firm and unbending.

And then, when your disappointment in your traitorous leaders and cucked countrymanlets is affirmed once again, count something else…

Swing High Sweet Lariat

The tankgrrl careerist shrike demands that men desire her for her careerist shrikery. The obstacle to her demands is the basic biological constraint of male sexuality that compels men to be attracted to relatively less accomplished, more feminine women. At best, a woman’s career is neutral background noise to a man’s desire; at worst it actively undermines love.

Ollie passes along a story that demonstrates this sexual market reality quite well.

What amazes me about this story is the number of idiots that are dumbfounded as to why Mr. Rossdale has been boffing the lookalike nanny instead of his “awesome superstar real thing” wife.

To any man with even a hint of red-pill awareness (and the ability to be honest with himself) the reason for Mr. Rossdale’s dalliance is as obvious as the mid morning sun:

His wife was a Diva.

Why is this so bad?
1. She has spent years constantly being marinaded in a bath of non-stop adulation and fan worship. Even the most noble woman will eventually succumb to the spiritually toxic effects of that attention bath, and become an insufferable narcissist, utterly incapable of loving anything but her aging reflection.

2. She has a full time job as a recording artist. This kind of job is designed to destroy relationships like a cruise missile, with its potent combination of time-consuming recording/promoting sessions, long distance separation (touring), and surrogate attention heaped on by adoring fans. A relationship needs to have some degree of contact to exist.

3. She also has a job as a TV show judge, and a fashion design company to run on top of that. As often remarked in these hallowed halls, a woman obsessed with her career is a woman who is fundamentally damaged. The precious little free time Gwen had left over from her recording job is furiously consumed like the last slice of cake at a hambeast convention. Ergo, the nanny, whom I’m pretty sure has spent an order of magnitude (or two) more time loving and caring for Gwen’s own children than “Amazing Superstar” Gwen herself has.

Now, think about the 25 seconds or so of yearly photo-op family time Gwen can afford her progeny and subdivide it by 50. That’s the amount of time Gavin gets for intimacy with his bombshell wife. Essentially, being Gavin Rossdale is like owning a Bugatti Veyron with welded shut doors, or having a 3-star Michelin chef prepare you a sumptuous feast that is then placed in a sealed glass box for you to watch as it slowly rots.

Throw on top of this the fact that Mizz Stefani’s career and identity were conceived during and directly through the height of 90’s Doc Marten ball-stomping riot grrl feminism, and we have a recipe for marriage disaster that makes the Hindenburg look like a minor fender-bender.

Gavin probably did the math at some point, figuring “Why am I, a famous rock star, getting laid less than Elliot Rodger?” and took action, getting what a man needs in life from the nearest available source.

What men really want from women, aside from those oh-so important physical attributes, is a sweet, caring, loving helpmeet. We’re talking the kind of woman who adoringly reads her children lullabies and makes her husband a home-cooked meal. Pop superstardom is as useful to a man’s heart as an ice machine is needed for residents of northern Alaska.

I know this subject has been already covered in the “Dating Market Value Test For Women” section, but I really think it is time for the Chateau to once again spotlight the incredible attraction-killing power of high female achievement.

Aging famous women have it rough in two ways:

The alpha males they want don’t really care about women’s career goals or accomplishments. In this respect these alphas are no different than any man, and once the bloom on the rose starts to wilt, their men’s eyes will start to wander more frequently.

The alpha males they want have a lot of SMV, and thus a lot of sexual market options. No matter how famous, rich, and beloved she herself is, her high status husband/boyfriend has more options to trade up, because aging does not affect his SMV like it does hers, and his careerism does not negatively affect his SMV like it does hers.

Female hypergamy is a bitch, but it’s bitchiest to those high-powered aging women who must suffer the smallest pool of equally or higher-powered men acceptable to her mate match algorithm. Maybe if those men had no other options…. but then they wouldn’t be the sort of men desired by the Gwen Stefanis of the world.

As the Circlejerk of the Offended widens, there remain fewer and fewer Offenders in the Oortlands of the Damned from whom to extract satisfyingly humiliating apologies. Take, for example, this latest Bowels Love Movement temper tantrum.

An organized protest at Cornell University supporting racial equality has been canceled after a black student group complained about the “lack of people of color in the planning and attendance” of the event, which appears to have been organized by a white student.

Not sure if troll or genuine “white” beta manboob fatso bowing down before his cuckmasters for the crime of insufficiently licking their boots.

This line:

“Thank you for calling me out on my ignorance.”

You may as well append that to America’s other two epitaphs ready to be etched on her gravestone.

We are a family… of friends!
Here lies America. She found closure.
Thank you for calling me out on my ignorance.

The group also stated that “although” the members appreciate “the solidarity and interest of our allies,” the organization would like to address prejudice “in [their] own way.”

I’m curious where all this is heading. When any silly “offense” can be summoned from the ether, and everyone has a trigger point and a safe space blueprint, who will be left to obsequiously assuage the egos of all these thin-skinned, feminized, emotional toddlers? I suppose John Scalzi will try to take up the slack. He wears a dress.

I’ll tell ya something else. This is what happens when you overstuff a bunch of underqualified blacks onto college campuses where they can feel in their bones they don’t measure up. The spite, resentment, and bile bubble over, and with the help of status whoring manlet leftoids and Hivemind Narrative police, explodes in some of the most childish, nonsensical tantrums you’ll ever see putative adults indulge.

No doubt it’s fun for the wholesome White family to watch shitlib grotesqueries cannibalize each other, but if you think this in-fighting will reduce their choke-hold on the culture, don’t bet on it.

Executive summary: Diversity + Proximity = War.

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