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Literal Cuckservatives

Jul 23rd, 2015 by

The Dissidenti™™ and their frazzled hall monitors buzzsaw with talk about “cuckservatives.” It’s the shiv du jour, you see. As shivs go, it is in this ‘umble narrator’s opinion one of the more lethal of the semantic shanks employed by dark realists.

Lovers and haters of the Cuck Shiv gird for battle (well, the haters girdle for battle). The wielders love the twist of their shiny new toy. The haters brace defensively, shielding vitals. As well they should. CH commenters wonder, not without historical wonderment precedent for questions of Realtalk™ provenance aligned with Chateau themes, was it Heartiste who coined the “cuckservative” scarlet C? Answer: I don’t know. The first mention of it here is dated 24 Jun 2015. I suspect Poasting Whytes were first in the field with their version. Perhaps the term was independently formulated by multiple parties, inspired to simultaneous Phoenixian birth by the polluted cascade of daily poz.

I can tell you this for certain: The term “cuckold”, and its related emotional resonance, was thrust rudely into the public consciousness and popularized right here, at Chateau Heartiste, long before the current fascination with the pregnant (heh) weight of the slur. Kneejerk anti-truthers and perplexed alt-rightists scoffed at first contact with Le Chateau’s musings on the metadeath genetic threat cuckoldry poses to men, but in time even they began to see the value of the concept as a right and proper fitting metaphor for supplicants and sycophants and self-sodomizers of various stripes, which of course means they understood on a sub-discourse level the biomechanic sexual market truth implied by the insult.

To the gristle: What is a cuckservative?

Occam’s Razor ably decodes.

Very basically, the cuckservative is a white gentile conservative (or libertarian) who thinks he’s promoting his own interests but really isn’t.  In fact, the cuckservative is an extreme universalist and seems often to suffer from ethnomasochism & pathological altruism. In short, a cuckservative is a white (non-Jewish) conservative who isn’t racially aware.

That’s a serviceable academic description. I prefer something a leetle more… pungent.

CH definition: A cuckservative is a cowardly pussy who sucks up to leftoid equalists for mercy and pisses himself when he gets accused of racism, sexism, or anti-semitism.

Corollary to the above CH definition: The cuckservative will throw his brother and his nation under the bus if it means he keeps his token status as cog in the Hivemind machine. Those cocktail parties aren’t going to attend themselves!

So what’s the difference between a cuckservative and a garden variety shitlib? Delayed reaction. The cuckservative may or may not be a true believer in reality-denying feminism or anti-white antiracism, but he sure as hell knows to stick his crabbed finger in the air to see which cheek he should spread for his equalist overlord’s strap-on.

Some common traits of the species homo homo cuckservative:

– is quick to jump down the throat of any Realtalker.
– distances himself immediately from any ostensible ally who lets slip a jarring sin against the Narrative.
– will never once, not once, do or say something brave in his life.
– is at heart the rear-end of a lemming herd. won’t take a stand (or a plunge) until the numbers safely allow him to do so.
– is ignorant of or afraid to confront racial, ethnic, tribal truths.
– would rather bear witness to national decline and dissolution and preside over gross injustice than be on record that there are consequential race and sex differences beyond skin color and genitalia.
– thinks the only difference between the sexes that is acceptable to utter in public is the male penchant for gags and buttplugs. (he also projects wildly)
– dreadfully fears social ostracism, rendering him politically impotent.
– will force himself to clap loudly for pre-op Bruce Jenner, to coo falsely over mystery meat infants, to nod soberly in agreement when the pay gap lie is mentioned yet again as gospel truth, to pretend that Michelle Obama is attractive, and to insist women’s soccer is just as thrilling to watch as men’s soccer (which is not much thrilling to begin with).
– Will give every shrieking leftoid the benefit of the doubt while reflexively questioning the motives of every ballsy Realtalker.
– will preface every feeble tiptoe into his own Realtalk wading pool with an ass-covering “To be sure…” or a spastic impromptu paean to Martin Luther King, Jr.
– backs down with a quickness at roundtable debates with aggressive liberals.
– the only topics on which he won’t back down are taxes on the oligarchs and fighting terrorists over there so we don’t have to fight them here (while insisting open borders are American as apple pie and that muslim dude who shot dead a platoon of Christian soldiers was really a victim of discrimination and now, now, let’s not get crazy and question our shared enthusiasm for increasing Diversity™ in the military).
– will intone “diversity is our strength” while commuting home to an upscale gated community that is 98% White and 2% East Asian.
– exclaims “content of our character”, “fighting for freedom”, “blacks kill other blacks more than any other race”, and “hispanics are natural conservatives” without a hint of ironic detachment.
– has probably sexually molested a young boy sometime before his political career took off.

Cuckservatives are even more loathsome than true blue leftoid believers in the antiwhite progrom, because at least you can say the latter are loyal to a personal, if mortally twisted, ethos. The cuckservative is loyal to nothing but personal aggrandizement. The cuckservative so easily betrays his stated principles because, in fact, he has no principles. He is a globocorporate transnational post-american striver SWPL just as much as any of his ultraliberal co-evals, minus the overt eagerness for estate taxes and nationalized healthcare, and he’ll be damned if he’ll let some flyover smart-ass with an eye for both the big picture and the demonic detail to destabilize his easy-livin’ sinecure.

Given this list of characteristics, the “cuckold” root of the cuckservative metaphor is exceedingly apt. The cuckservative is, in habit of mind and sometimes in practice, that pathetic white man with noodle arms and crusted tear tracks sitting hunched on a stool in the corner of his bedroom watching, with willing fervor, his ecstatic white wife get pounded into post-white release by a buck nigra who eats his food and kicks his ass when the fridge needs refilling.

Yes, he’ll sit there nicely and putter with his pud while his wife (nation) gets banged out by another man (nonwhites, third world immigrants), as long as no one mistakes him for a small town prole who can’t tell the nose difference between a merlot and a pinot noir.

The cuckservative is cucked by antagonistic races, by antagonistic ideologies, by antagonistic corporate masters, by antagonistic talk show hosts, by antagonistic fat losers editorializing on the internet equivalent of teen beat gossip rags.

All he wants is their approval. A pat on the head from his sworn and intractable enemies. He swears he’ll keep his hands to himself and won’t cum until instructed to do so!

He is a low self-esteem, approval-seeking, whimpering cumlapper.

He is dog shit.

But there is hope.

Amazingly, some cuckservatives are LITERAL CUCKSERVATIVES. Commenter james1 peruses a few famous biographies,

It’s interesting that even though the Boehner family and the Bush family are Republicans, they are bigger race mixers than the Kennedy family and the Clinton family are Democrats. Jeb Bush married a Mestiza who looks like the maid at your local Motel 6 or Days Inn and John Boehner’a daughter married a Jamaican pothead who is a wannabe Bob Marley.

Also the Republican John McCain adopted a very dark skin girl from Sri Lanka while JFK/Jackie O and Bill/Hillary who are Democrats never adopted any Nonwhite children.

Literal cuckservatives take their prostrate mewling before the antiwhite mob a little too seriously. But with a familial C.V. like, for example, Boehner’s or ¡Jabe!’s, is it a surprise that these self-abnegating genetic dead ends can’t think clearly on the subject of race, borders, nation?

As Occam’s Razor puts it,

On the other hand, the idea of whites acting as a group to secure their own interests terrifies the cuckservative. If you ever want to troll a cuckservative, just repeatedly use the word “white,”  such as “this isn’t beneficial for the white community.”  The cuckservative will be triggered immediately.

Nobody gets triggered like a nancygoy cuckservative gets triggered. Truly pathetic specimens of manhood. Wasn’t Boehner the puffboy who blubbered like a baby on stage recollecting his time in the bathhouses of the Castro District? With “leaders” and “representatives” like him, who needs an opposition party? If Boehner wants a real reason to cry, he should reflect on his daughter’s coal burning, doing her part to destroy an aesthetic, cultural, and genetic heritage 20,000 years in the making.

The Cuckservative: Re-raising equalist leftoids, because, hey, he’s got something to disprove.

Posted in Goodbye America, Self-aggrandizement, Status Is King, The Id Monster, Tool Time, Ugly Truths, Vanity | 192 Comments »

Why Is Randi Lee Harper, Fat, Drug-Addicted, Mentally Unhinged Liar, Still Working At Twitter?

Jul 23rd, 2015 by

Twitter twats hired Randi Lee Harper as an “Online Abuse Prevention” schoolmarm, and continue to employ her, despite a mass (heh) of gathering evidence that she is fat, drug-addicted, mentally unhinged, and a disingenuous liar.

So why is she still working there? Does she have dirt on Twatter executives? Or is the entire Twatter HR department staffed wall to wall by crazy-eyed feminists and pantywaist sycophants allergic to facts and tasked with Narrative dissemination?

A reader muses,

“feminist… fat… feminist… fat… feminist… fat… feminist… fat… feminist… fat… feminist… fat… feminist… ”

I see, someone REALLY doesn’t want to be allowed back on the twitter.

Does anyone seriously think a CH house lord would beg a porky misfit like Randi Lee Harper for re-entrance to the club she is inexplicably charged with monitoring? No, that is not how this will go. She will come to CH, on her ungulate knees, to offer an obsequious apology and reconciliation to her betters. As losers are meant to do.

Long-time guests of Le Chateau will recognize the deeper message of this post. They will know this post is not solely about Randi Lee Harper (or about using her SJW tools against her) — she is but a convenient emblem to showcase a much more pervasive societal sickness — but is about, instead, the tentacled mind and body rot oozing out over the commons from the sewage pipes emptying the uptalking id waste of the SJW corporation of bitter, spiteful, loser freak degenerates whose adult sentiments were prematurely calcified into a juvenile philosophy of solipsism as they peered at the world outside through the vents of their high school lockers.

PS Hi Randi! PETA wants to know how your blue-dyed dog is doing.

Posted in Current Events, Feminist Idiocy, Hungry Hungry Hippos, The Pleasure Principle, Tool Time | 75 Comments »

Newsflash! Talented Tenth Ingrate Doesn’t Like White People

Jul 23rd, 2015 by

High yella shit stirrer Courtland Milloy hates white culture (which means he hates white people, since a culture is a reflection of a people’s racial essence).

For years, the struggles of middle- and working-class black people animated life on 14th Street. Now all of that is gone. It’s been replaced by a stultifying air of aloofness. The millennial newcomers — most of them white — jog, bike and walk about the city as if in a trance, oblivious to the lives that helped form the place they now call home.

“in a trance” = “normal white people behaving like whites and not like ghetto blacks, which really irks and alienates me”.

Even leftoid Hivemind media organs can’t keep the commenter Realtalk™ storm at bay. From “econundertow”:

14th Street isn’t as much fun as was in the good ol’ days, that’s for sure.

I’m sad that the wall-to-wall junkies that used to pass out on top each other in front of my ‘house’ @ 14th and T sts. NW are gone … fine upstanding citizens, all of them.

I fondly recall the time when the carjacker pointed his .45 Colt at me out of his stolen car window @ 12th & N sts, There was an upstanding member of the 14th street community.

I recall the young man shot to death in front of the house I was renovating on Fairmont St a year later. I miss being shot at myself while operating a machine on the same street. What is 14th street without these folks?

There were the drug-dealing kids who tried to gun down a rival on R st @ 14th. They fled in a late-model Ford station wagon … poor aim, they missed their target despite 15 shots from a 9mm pistol. Nevertheless, fine upstanding members of the community.

I recall the shyster car dealers, the winos, pawn shops and liquor stores … the suburbanites looking to score PCP, crack, heroin and pot in any number of large, open air drug markets. The sound of children playing, “Hey, dude, you need anything?”

W st @ 14th was once one of the most dangerous areas in the city, like 144th @ Lenox Avenue in Harlem, even for cops. The the large, rotting apartment buildings lining W st were mazes, the druggies knew them inside and out. Ditto with the row of large apartment buildings on R st between 14th and 15th. All those living in those buildings and the other derelict apartment houses are certain to be missed.

Indeed, all those young black men were certainly on their way up, they just got shuffled aside by zombie millennials. Right…

Do the Courtland Milloys of the world deserve a measured response? Nah.

Fuck these fuckers in their phonyfuck faces.

PS Diversity + Proximity = Courtland Milloy’s butthurt id!

Posted in Current Events, The Id Monster, Tool Time, Ugly Truths | 64 Comments »

Field Test: The MAXIMUM ALPHA MALE MODE Walk

Jul 23rd, 2015 by

Remember the CH post about walking like an alpha male? For shits and remotely activated tingles, I decided to try out the MAXIMUM ALPHA MALE MODE walking style in a beautiful baby zoo near you.

I walked about town like a guy who absorbed a piece of gorilla DNA in a telepod, similar to Jeff Goldblum’s unfortunate mix-n-match in The Fly. I strutted and swaggered. Not quite as comically as this buffoon:

…but getting close.

Result: After an hour or so performing the “here are my steely balls, ladies, feast your eyes” gait, I can conclusively say that a lot… no, a WHOLE LOT… of women tossed me lascivious stares. Not “what is this weird guy doing?” looks; real hardcore “i want… i need… to get to know this man” stares.

Ok, there were a couple of “who’s the weirdo?” looks, but most were definitely in the “checking him out” camp.

I want… I need… to report that I felt foolish walking like I had an anvil in my crotch that I had to swing my legs around, but sadly, with heavy heart, I felt no such discomfort. What I did feel instead was confidence boosted major.

To this day, and after so many years of confirmatory experience, it still astounds me how autonomically women are magnetized by a man exhibiting alpha male characteristics. It’s almost… robotic.

Posted in Alpha, Biomechanics is God, Funny/Lolblogs, Game, Girls | 154 Comments »

Bottom-Of-The-Barrel Cuckold Fetishist, Or Spinster Hoax?

Jul 22nd, 2015 by

One hundred and one Chateau patrons slipped this juicy omega male shitlibbery — “What Open Marriage Taught One Man About Feminism” — into the combox for cathartic evisceration by yours unduly. The story concerns a “Mr.” “Michael Sonmore” (scare quote usage to become clear in a moment) who professes to an open sexual relationship with his wife and a full awareness and acceptance of his cuckoldry.

As I write this, my children are asleep in their room, Loretta Lynn is on the stereo, and my wife is out on a date with a man named Paulo. It’s her second date this week; her fourth this month so far. If it goes like the others, she’ll come home in the middle of the night, crawl into bed beside me, and tell me all about how she and Paulo had sex. I won’t explode with anger or seethe with resentment. I’ll tell her it’s a hot story and I’m glad she had fun. It’s hot because she’s excited, and I’m glad because I’m a feminist.

Mmhmm. This rings authentic.

When I quit working to stay at home with the kids, I began to understand it on a whole new level. I am an economically dependent househusband coping with the withering drudgery of child-rearing. Now that I understand the reality of that situation, I don’t blame women for demanding more for themselves than the life of the housewife.

LOL. So transparent. Male feminists don’t parade their sickly ids in public quite so pitch perfectly. AlexPareeniks, manlets extraordinaire, usually whip up their self-flagellation with a leavening dollop of bitter regret for betraying the last vestiges of their masculinity.

She didn’t present it as an issue of feminism to me, but after much soul-searching about why the idea of my wife having sex with other men bothered me I came to a few conclusions: Monogamy meant I controlled her sexual expression, and, not to get all women’s-studies major about it, patriarchal oppression essentially boils down to a man’s fear that a woman with sexual agency is a woman he can’t control. We aren’t afraid of their intellect or their spirit or their ability to bear children. We are afraid that when it comes time for sex, they won’t choose us. This petty fear has led us as a culture to place judgments on the entire spectrum of female sexual expression: If a woman likes sex, she’s a whore and a slut; if she only likes sex with her husband or boyfriend, she’s boring and lame; if she doesn’t like sex at all, she’s frigid and unfeeling. Every option is a trap.

This paragraph is the crone giveaway. A bitter, lonely cat lady wrote this article as a hoax to fellate her scorched ego and lash out at all the men who pass her by or use her up. True, the lowliest of lowly men COULD have written such excrescence, but the way to bet is that an insol spinster with delusions of vengeance and… sexual agency (heh)… fantasized this whole scenario into existence. She hits too many jargony femcunt talking points too squarely on the whiskered nose. Madonna/whore double standard? Check. Alpha fux/beta bux strategy justification? Check. Anti-judgmentalism? Check. Patriarchal oppression? Check. Dismissing as cultural baggage the real, primal, biologically-founded fear men have for cheating wives who might get pregnant by another man and foist their bastard spawn on them as their own? Checkold.

The point is that it should be women who choose, not men — even the men they’re married to. For my wife, the choice between honoring our vows and fulfilling her desires was a false choice, another trap. She knew how deep our love was, and knew that her wanting a variety of sexual experiences as we traveled through life together would not diminish or disrupt that love. It took me about six months — many long, intense conversations, and an ocean of red wine — before I knew it, too.

This paragraph contains the second crone giveaway. No man nurses his depression with “an ocean of red wine”. He hits the hard stuff or the beer. Spinster cat ladies, licensed to psychologically project! B-U-S-T-E-D. Great job, Michelle Eatmore.

It does work both ways and, yes, I too enjoy sexual carte blanche. I just don’t use mine as much as my wife uses hers. What’s important is equality of opportunity, not outcome.

How convenient for your imaginary heroine, Michelle. PS Equality of opportunity doesn’t apply to the sexual market because women have a near-monopolistic advantage on sexual commerce (which when they indulge decreases the value of their commitment market value, but femcunts don’t want to hear that part).

Update

Reader NothingMan00 adds,

I plugged each of the paragraphs presented here into the Gender Guesser:

http://www.hackerfactor.com/GenderGuesser.html#Analyze

It guessed female writer for each, assuming the piece is an example of “formal” writing.

Another commenter astutely pointed out that no man would worry more about his wife “falling in love” with another man than about his wife fucking another man. This is pure, distilled bitterbitch psychological projection.

Posted in Feminist Idiocy, Ridiculousness, Tool Time | 196 Comments »

Lindy “Immense” West Got Married…

Jul 22nd, 2015 by

…to a gay man scouting for a green card. For evidence, see this try-hard article and accompanying photos.

Dat gay face. He’s the one with the thousand cock stare.

She is totally his citizenship beard. They will make traditional love precisely once. He will need mass quantities of drugs to commence the act and fake his completion.

Her marriage is a hog and phony show to burnish her feminist cred. “See, a fat woman proud of her fatness can get married too! Take that, straight white masculine men with healthy libidos!”

Lindy West is a blowhard feminist. Not a colorful exaggeration. You can practically see her blowhole.

The Immensity lies,

I’ve dated [ed: black] men who relished me in private but refused to be seen with me on the street, or who told me, explicitly, that we had no serious future because they were afraid their friends would laugh at them.

shitthatneverhappened.txt. No man talks like this. If a loser dumpster dives to get his rocks off, he won’t deliver a confessional coda like this one to his fat fling. He’ll just stop texting and ghost. Shit that does happen to Lindy West: She falls for [ed: white] guys, they aren’t the least bit interested, she spins it as their fear of getting ribbed by their friends rather than their complete lack of physical attraction.

Fat pigs lie all the time to assuage their hammy egos. Feminist fat pigs with an internet bullhorn lie twice as much and ten times as desperately. The try-hard, butthurt, phonyfuck haggadocio drips like bacon grease from the mouth corners of the Lindy Wests of the world.

I’m surprised by the numbers of gullible “red pillers” who take fat women at their word when they oink about their nonexistent love lives with “studs” and “winners”. Look at Lindy’s “””wedding””” pics. The freak show rolled into town and the only one not getting the joke is Lindy.

Prediction: Lindy West will not get happier nor more emotionally secure as she settles into her marriage. That is because she will know what no one but her and gaycabanaboy know: A circus spectacle won’t save her from the lonely, loveless nights that are the fate of fat women married to effeminate men dreaming of somewhere and something else entirely.

PS The easy shiv: “Lindy + A Ham”. True that.

PPS Why do I come down hard on Lindy West and her ilk? Because they’re degenerate liars. And degenerate liars are bad business for believers in truthnbeauty.

Posted in Feminist Idiocy, Funny/Lolblogs, Hungry Hungry Hippos, Ugly Truths | 171 Comments »

Alpha Male Of The Month: Presidential Hopeful Donald Trump Has Game

Jul 21st, 2015 by

But does he have tight game? The evidence gathered to date says… the tightest! For instance, examine closely how well Trump handled his own Realtalk™ charge that could’ve blown up in his face given leftoid Hivemind and GOP (one and the same) hatred of him.

Trump said Juan McCain is no war hero, because, paraphrasing, there’s nothing heroic about getting captured.

I happen to agree, in part, with Trump here. A sure sign of national decline is bastardization of the native language (to suit the needs of ruling class propagandists and, less ominously, to strengthen group identification among the lower classes). As Greg Cochran has noted, we live in a culture where the hero has MOVED ON to the right side of history, becoming a “hero through suffering” rather than a “hero through deed”. This is supposed to be an improvement. It’s not. It’s a dumbing-down of heroism, so the mass of mediocrities can feel like they have a spiritual connection to the hallowed Hero’s Hall every time they fall into a depressed resignation about their miserable lives.

I specify that I agreed with Trump “in part”, because the Merriam-Webster definition of “hero” does include, under line item #2, the description of the hero as someone with “noble qualities”. You can argue that, once captured, possessing the grit and fortitude to stick it out for years until release is a type of heroism.

So there was wiggle room there for Trump to take a legit hit from his enemies to the…. “””right”””. (hahaha i keel myself!)

But did Trump back down when the Hivemind assembled its buzzing battalions to perforate him on a, ahem, trumped-up charge of insufficient patriotism and groveling toward a veteran with a stellar record of lapping up the precum off Vicente Fox’s Spanish-European glans? (A charge, it should be mentioned, not a single member of the Hivemind conglomerate takes seriously in his own life.)

No. Not only did Trump refuse the offer he couldn’t refuse, he struck back with guns twice as big, twice as fast, and ten times as lethal.

This fuckin guy. ❤️❤️

As wags have dubbed him, Trump is a kind of morph of Realtalking internet commenters and Duke Nukem. Here he is on peabrained cuckservative Rick Perry, after Perry swallowed a load of Hivemind jizz and tried, feebly, to oust Trump from respectable GOP circlejerks:

And look what Trump did to that most effete of GOP supracucks, Lindsey “gaypedoface” Graham, (who called Trump a “jackass”). Skip to minute 26:00 to see Trump brandish Graham’s real cell number, asking the studio audience to call Graham for clarification on his past request for Trump’s campaign assistance. It is quite the slashing shiv.

Trump has tight game.

– He reframes his opponents’ attacks.
– He goes on the offense, never allowing himself the womanly comfort of the defensive crouch.
– He never apologizes. Especially not when his accusers are such gratuitous phonyfucks.
– He is socially savvy, and knows how to speak to the common man.
– His upgraded third wife is a hottie. And not just “for her age”.

If Trump is President, no one will have to humiliate himself pretending that a First Gorilla is a highly fuckable beauty.

Trump is such a BAD BAD RACIST EGOTISTIC MAN that he currently sits atop the Republican polls. Game can get you laid, and it can help you become leader of the free world.

President Donald Trump.

Isn’t it about time the Presidency was occupied by an alpha male worthy of the office? You know, alpha males like we used to have with the Founders?

If nothing else, Trump makes what would have been a tedious, insipid non-race with no import besides greasing the skids to national dissolution into something interesting to watch. Trump has pushed the Overton Window so wide, its gaping hole resembles Andrew “RawMuscleGlutes” Sullivan’s prolapsing rectum.

Trump fucks with the status quo, and the fucking is good.

******

PS This guy…

…wins a distant runner-up AOTM for boffing a decent-looking chick in an alley and submitting a shit-eating mugshot in defiance of good taste, but Trump is a force of nature who won’t settle for less than absolute AOTM glory.

PPS Just as indicative of the droogie’s alphatude in the mugshot is his fucktoy’s expression. Is she ashamed? No. A happy smile pushes hard to come out of hiding, ready to betray a deeply satisfied post-coital contentment.

Posted in Alpha, Current Events, Funny/Lolblogs, Hope and Change | 327 Comments »

The Incidental Squirt

Jul 21st, 2015 by

Thumping, throbbing, pulsing… a sinuous dolphinoid stroke through crisscrossing waves of briny, grinding flesh, arrive at destination: a ramshackle tropic-themed auxiliary bar. I wave, regally, in the vicinity of the bartendress, to order a stiff one. To my left, propped lordotically on a stool, a slim blonde in slimmer dress squeezes a lime wedge into her love potion. She thinks (incorrectly) a stray sour squirt hit me; I feign injury.

Blondie: “Oh, I’m sorry about that!”

Left hand up to left eye, I execute a grimace with great gusto. “Aagh! My eye! It burns.”

She gawks for a beat, I spread two fingers slowly apart, revealing the abstractly-afflicted eye, peering at her with my miraculously and expediently cured vision through the finger gap, smiling with same orb a reprieve from a personal injury lawsuit. I leave the scene, pressed in equal measure by physiological necessity and the advantages of calculated absence. Her friend, almost as attractive, says “bye” loudly as I set off.

The right inflection can flip a “bye” into a “why not stay for a longer ‘hi’”?

Re-trace my dolphin migration, arrive at bathroom to discharge the blowhole. Too many pissers. The walls bulge, Matrix-like, with the teem of testosterone. Zipping and careful to avoid slipping in the slosh of urine accumulating on the floor, I contort my return way through the crowd to the bathroom exit, as a crescendo of primate chest beatings alerts my early warning detection system. A stygian mutant standing in the doorway prognathously bellows, “That’s rude, man. That kinda rude can get a man killed”, at a retreating Topper pretending to ignore the taunt. He repeats his threat in staccato bursts of gumfire three or four (thousand) times, a menacing series of war cries intended to evoke the fear of an inevitable eruption of normalcy into sudden, violent, pitched battle. I raise my arms into a preparatory garrison as I snake around the rapidly intensifying black hole of gravitational incivility.

Escape velocity achieved. One hundred paces between chaos and rapture. Back at dryland Bar Tiki, the blonde, still seated, still smoldering, shifts to make room for my adjacent insertion. I accost her.

“You know I’m practically blind in my right eye now.”

“You mean, your left eye?”

“Oh, yeah, my left eye. Blind as a bat. At least your right side looks good. I hope your left side makes the grade.”

Her face energizes for gratifying combat. She sparkles, I toggle. Everything is gonna be alright.

Posted in Dating, Escape, Girls, The Good Life, The Id Monster, The Pleasure Principle | 140 Comments »

Our Acute Discernment Of Age

Jul 20th, 2015 by

A perceptual puzzle. I was idly watching, from a height and a distance that would approximate 80 meters along the hypotenuse, a woman mount a bicycle. She was clothed in long pants and long-sleeve shirt, and wearing a hat. Her face was open for inspection, but at the distance my eyes were trained her features were nothing but a formless conglomeration of four russet blobs — the top, sides, and bottom, meeting in a very vague oval shape, and smeared with fat brush strokes by a drunken painter.

Yet, from that distance and inconclusive physical details, I was able, subconsciously at first and quickly percolating to my conscious consideration, to gauge the bike woman’s age to be in the range between late 40s-mid 50s. When she biked nearer my location, my opinion was confirmed.

I thought, how could I know her age so accurately with such clarity of judgment and such paucity of particulars? What gave it away? I pondered, loosely, the various betrayals, and struck upon multiple hypotheses — the play of ocular shadows, the refraction of light off wrinkled skin, the subtle cues of motion tainted by a distressed body in decline — but could not settle upon a winning giveaway.

Our ability to accurately discern age from a parsec must rank up there with the wickedest riddles of human perception. We must have this ability for a reason. A very, very good reason. #ThreatAssessment #RottenEggs

Update

A commenter mentioned weight being the dead (weight) giveaway. While it’s true people tend to fatten up with age (until at a great age when they start to lose weight), in this case the woman was slender and shapely (as far as that can be determined under concealment). So while weight can cue age, I think it is not the sole, nor even a major aid to our perception of a person’s years on earth. There is something more profound signaling to us the walk of time over a stranger’s facescape.

Posted in The Id Monster, Ugly Truths | 161 Comments »

Is There A Shared Extinction Path Between Neanderthals And Modern Westerners?

Jul 20th, 2015 by

No one knows for certain how the Neanderthals went extinct. There are many theories propounded — climate change, resource competition with newly arriving anatomically modern humans, megafauna population declines, etc — all of which are plausible, and some of which are supported circumstantially by recent genetic evidence.

I’ll suggest another, uncomfortably familiar, extinction mechanism for the Neanderthals: Diversity™ killed off the loveable brutes.

I don’t mean, exclusively, Diversity™ in the usual senses — warfare, rape&pillage, territorial disputes, food shortages. I mean it in the Calhoun rat “behavioral sink” sense. That is, the flood of Vibrant AMH Diversity™ arriving from points south, who may or may not have mingled peaceably with Neanderthals in the latter’s homeland, (and occasionally shared beds), by their mere proximate presence and cultural dissimilarity induced immense psychic pressures on the locals until their native fertility rate plummeted to levels…

…not unlike what we are seeing today among white Westerners living in homelands rapidly populating with millions of alien world migrants.

Diversity™, itself, is what killed the Neanderthals.

Arguing against my speculation: Contraceptives, the Japs.

Neanderthals didn’t have the hedonism aids of condoms and Pills. If they were “secularizing”, relative to their race’s historical norm, and choosing to forfeit childbearing in favor of extracting the last bit of fun from a shrinking playground, they’d have a challenge trying to do all this to the beat of the rhythm method. Not that it couldn’t be done; Neanderthalettes might have stiff-armed a lot of horny men if they felt that conditions weren’t optimal for raising a family.

The Japanese. They have a very low TFR at the moment, and last I checked there wasn’t a ton of Diversity™ in Japan. But, it is an island nation, and there are a lot of Japanese living on it, living a neon-colored and optically-wired version of the Western lifestyle. Here, the mechanism is entirely raw numbers, rather than raw numbers + clash of cultures.

The Neanderthals, it now appears from genetic analysis, have gifted White Europeans with just enough of their DNA to make something of a difference to the trajectory of white history. Did Neanderthals also gift us with a warning for our own race’s future, or lack thereof?

Posted in Biomechanics is God, The Pleasure Principle | 132 Comments »

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