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Game Trumps Looks

Sep 30th, 2011 by

File under: “Give me five minutes to talk away my ugly face and I can bed a hard 10.” -Voltaire. A reader (kept anonymous for obvious reasons) emails:

I started reading your blog about a week ago after my girlfriend chewed me up and spit me out like the beta I am. I knew about Game before but figured there was no reason to apply it on her. Obviously a mistake. No one would believe the shit she put me through…except the readers of your blog. That’s not why I’m writing, though. You’ve heard it a thousand times.

I wanted to relate this:

Today I am meeting with a girl on my group for a group project. I’m leading this thing but, christ, no real alpha would lower himself to leading a group project. They never do, in my experience. It’s a low status activity, so I just try to keep everyone on task and make sure we show up in class with something worth half a shit.

Anyway, through dint of scheduling I have to meet with this girl alone instead of with the four other people. I figure I might as well start practicing high status behavior so, when I noticed I was going to be early, I decided to hang around the quad until I was a couple minutes late. When I walk through the door I notice, potentially for the first time, that she is a fucking ten if there ever was one. 19 yrs, tight, flawless skin with just enough tan, full c breasts, beautiful symmetrical exotic features that sing, and the kind of wavy brunette hair that any girl outside of a pantene spot would literally kill for. Me: short, freckles, red hair, glasses, slim but doughy and pale, and 28 years of betadom to back it all up. Not terribly disciplined. Socially shy, but like most betas dominant when there is real work to do. I run and physically I’m a…4-5? On a good day. In the interests of full disclosure, I have some small scabs on my arms from skin picking, a lovely anxiety habit. Just a few but it’s the most unattractive thing ever. It’s harder to quit than smoking. On the plus side, I recently grew a beard to hide my weak chin. So let’s say that today I’m a 4.

But in spite of all this I said to myself: I am not scared of this girl. When she started talking about her many ‘accomplishments’ like her job, or her high status family (prof dad), or her many ap credits… I refused to compliment her. I actually pitied her, since it seems likely that she’s high achieving and will become a professional lady or something similar that makes her unhappy and prices her out of the marriage market.

She started twisting her hair. It was a little anxiety habit–kind of like my skin picking, except cute and girly and not destructive. In the past I would have just said to myself: hair twisting is nothing compared to the shit you do to yourself. But…I thought maybe it might be fun to neg her. “I should grow out my hair,” I said, “so I can twist it.” She apologized about her hair twisting. She started apologizing about all kinds of stuff, actually. She drank too much coffee and was really jittery. She had a ‘long day’ filled with her many accomplishments in life and her brain was ‘fried’. I told her she only had to keep it together for another hour and a half. She cracked her joints and I smiled and looked at her. She demured and I chuckled and mentioned that, when I was young, someone told me that would ruin my joints. But that ‘probably isn’t true. People tell kids lots of things.” Plenty of eye contact. Didn’t cross my legs in a girly way like I always do.

I wasn’t exactly making no mistakes here. I didn’t touch her. I accidentally spoke frankly about my chances for grad school. I asked about her wavy hair, figuring it HAD to be a perm or something. “Is your hair naturally curly?” I asked. It was, in fact, naturally curly and beautiful like Aphrodite’s might be if she were a brunette. “Not as curly as mine.” I responded, trying to ameliorate a body-directed compliment but accidentally calling attention to my curly red hair, a bit of a deficiency. Double mistake. I told her that I found her spanish fluency impressive–which I did, having struggled to learn a language myself. I thought that was bad at the time, but in retrospect complimenting beautiful women on their intellectual achievements isn’t as bad as complimenting them on their hair.

We did some practice runs of the presentation. I was a much, much better speaker than she was. By the time we were ready to leave she was giggling and falling all over herself. All bubbly smiles and eye contact and apologies.  Was she trying to DHV…to ME? Did she really just forget how impressive she was on every level: her perfect body, her high class, her raw intelligence? Could she not see that I am a bit of a classical loser, which is practically an image I’ve embraced and cultivated like she has being beautiful and smart? I was just…dumbfounded. I am awful at is reading female body language–you can’t understand a language without studying it or being immersed–so I don’t know if she was attracted to me or merely not repulsed by me, but I don’t believe I’ve ever been alone in a room with a ten for that long without it ending in cool businesslike contempt. I’ll ask her out to coffee and we’ll find out, I guess.

So thanks for saving my confidence and helping me start to heal my terrible breakup. Keep up the good work. It’s been eye opening.

The biggest difference between men and women in the dating market? A man can talk away his ugly face. A woman cannot. The reader is learning this valuable lesson, and like others before him who have trod the same path of game knowledge, he almost cannot believe the girl’s reaction he sees with his own eyes.

All the negs and teasing employed by this emailer were excellent: not too obviously insulting, with just the right amount of sting. I especially liked when he told her to “try to keep it together for an hour and a half”. Commanding, insouciant, fearless, funny. Chick crack, iow.

Pitying a woman, or lamenting her childishness and naivete, are actually very good frames to have when dealing with hot chicks. This frame is supercilious without being spiteful or hateful. A haughty disdain leavened with bemusement is a character trait that women find irresistible in men. It is the hallmark of alpha males. You could almost call it charisma.

But, unfortunately, I predict this emailer will not ask her out for coffee. (And, helpful tip, you should be taking a girl out for alcoholic beverages if possible, instead of coffee. You don’t want coffee to mentally stimulate her recall of her 463 bullet point checklist.) That “I guess” toward the end of his missive is a dead giveaway of untamed betatude. You guess? No, sir, you don’t guess. You reach down, cradle your gargantuan balls with lovingkindness, and gently coo to them “Thing 1? Thing 2? I’m letting you out of your cage again. Try not to get me in too much trouble.”

Footnote: “Not as curly as mine” was not a mistake. It was, in fact, quite an effective compliment-neutering counterattack. Remember, when you call attention to a possible flaw in a woman’s appearance or style that inadvertently highlights one of your own flaws, she’ll be too busy vaingloriously fretting to even notice what the hell flaw of yours you were concerned about. Or if she does notice and shit tests you over it, it will only serve as convenient conversational springboard to demonstrate your cool-as-fuck bona fides.

Anyhow, glad this blog is helping your dating life. Now you can stop bolding the words loser and glasses. It’s killing your inner resolve. A bolded word is a window to the id.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Game, Reader Mailbag, Vanity | Comments Off

Chicks Dig Jerks: Norwegian Terrorist Gets Love Letters In Jail

Sep 28th, 2011 by

Emma the Emo writes:

That Norwegian terrorist Anders Behring Breivik is getting love letters in jail now, after killing over 70 people, most of which are teens. Psychologists theorize that women want to save/heal him somehow. If they wanted to save and provide emotional help, they could instead write letters to the victims who survived. There is no point in saving a murderer like that, it’s too late, and just gives men more reason to become murderers.

Emma is right. If “saving” or “healing” broken men was the prime motivation explaining women’s lust for assholes, then we would see women saving and healing all those unfortunate victims of a psychopath’s rampage. Not to mention, there are a lot more beatdown betas who are in need of saving via pussy therapy than there are happy-go-lucky alphas.

Which of course puts the lie to the feminist and mangina explanation for women’s attraction to jerks and thugs. While the savior complex may explain, in part, women’s craven desire, it is not the primary or sole explanation, or even a very important one. As everyday observation to those with the eyes to see demonstrates, the primary motivation is women’s love for unrepentant, rule-breaking assholes. That is the elemental, core female hindbrain algorithm that governs all other lustful dispositions and is the catalyst for her mate choice decisions.

Women love assholes because they are assholes. Because it inspires in women those emotions that most delight their pleasure centers. And that, based on the reaction it engenders from civilized men and women alike, is the truth too scary to contemplate.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Alpha, Biomechanics is God, Girls, Ugly Truths | Comments Off

Chicks Dig Jerks: Prison Tryst Edition

Sep 27th, 2011 by

If you’ve been in a comfortable relationship for a while, or your game is so tight that you can steal girls from jerks, or you and your wife share Hallmarkian duties raising your children, you might forget the true nature of women and the crass biomechanical processes that motivate their loinlust. Which is why a helpful reminder every so often is just what you need to keep your mind focused.

Okla. warden’s wife convicted of aiding escapee

The wife of a former Oklahoma prison warden who disappeared with a convicted murderer only to be found living with him in Texas nearly 11 years later was found guilty Wednesday of helping him escape.

Jurors visited the prison grounds where Bobbi Parker, 49, had lived with her husband, then returned to the Greer County Courthouse and determined she left willingly with Randolph Franklin Dial in 1994. Parker did not testify but after being found living with Dial in 2005 insisted he had kidnapped her and threatened to harm her two daughters if she tried to escape.

Yep, women can’t get enough of that asshole vibe. So much so, that they’ll even leave a man whose occupation — prison warden — suggests authentic asshole, to be with an even bigger asshole — a convicted murderer. Talk about hypergamy. Maybe a new term should be coined for women whose hypergamous instinct for assholes causes them to go downmarket for the thuggish dregs of manhood: Masochamy.

Of course, in the evolved, frontal lobes of their brains, women know that society frowns upon their unquenchable attraction for assholes and douchebags, so when they are caught out in the act of fulfilling their fantasies they revert to stand-by female moral expedience by doing what they do best — laying the blame with the man. In this case, Bobbi Parker claimed her killboy lover had kidnapped her and threatened her two kids if she left his erotic embrace. Naturally, it’s a lie, which is exposed rather humorously in the article.

Dial died in 2007 at age 62, but until his death he backed Bobbi Parker’s version of events: that he drugged and kidnapped her, then kept her from calling police or her family by threatening to harm her family — even after he suffered a heart attack and was hospitalized.

Yeah, real hard to get away from a man laid up in a hospital bed with an ailing ticker. Funny how women have none of these troubles leaving betas who cease turning them on.

The real victim in all this is the jilted prison warden hubby who, through no fault of his own, found himself on the receiving end of a woman’s runaway lust for badboys. I guess managing a prison filled with some of the world’s worst alpha scumbags wasn’t enough to sate her vagina’s yearning. A woman’s cross to bear, ya know?

Unlike the specious claims made by feminists and their beta suck-ups, you will very rarely see the gender opposite happen in real life — it’s a black swan event indeed when a man leaves his hot wife for a female convicted murderer to help her escape prison and live with her for ten years. Men simply aren’t wired like women; for men, it’s looks over everything. For women, it’s attitude over everything.

Nor are feminists correct when they say that women are really attracted to the fame of high profile murderers, and not the embodied asshole attitude. Sure, that contention may be true for a select few cases like Ted Bundy and Richard Ramirez, but most cases of women seeking the meaty intrusion of jailbirds are like this one where the convict is not famous, but just another filthy turd trapped in the bowels of the prison system.

As any person involved in the legal system will tell you, the stereotype of women loving inmates is so common that hardly anyone notices anymore. Well, this blog will make sure the noticing never stops.

Now, not every women will swoon for a swindler or murderer, but all women possess an irredeemable attraction for men who are at least a little more asshole than the men within their social milieu. Bobbie Parkers spread for inmates, while Hillary Clintons spread for narcissistic manipulators. It’s a difference of degree, not kind.

Just a little helpful reminder should the swoon of romance ever take your eye off the ball.

UPDATE:

Here is a photo of the two lovebirds. Sez it all.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Alpha, Girls, Ugly Truths | Comments Off

The Subtle Art Of The Insidious Neg

Sep 26th, 2011 by

In-her-face negs are really only suited for very hot girls (8s and above) who think too much of themselves, work in a sex field (stripper, pharmaceutical sales rep), are ovulating, or are in a social context such as a club where they are primed for flirty banter. The rest of the time, your negs should be crafted in such a manner that they deliver their payload with sneaky plausible deniability, like a homing missile launched from a hidden bunker aimed at the soft chewy center of her ego. The best negs are those which are conceivably meant as compliments, but which linger in her psyche for hours afterward, undermining her self-conception and encouraging her to qualify herself to you.

I’ll give you an example of what I mean. I was at a party talking with a girl, a cute 7.5, and I mentioned offhandedly (or so it seemed to her, for little I do or say isn’t calculated to maximize my personal advantage) that she seemed really modest. (My assessment wasn’t wholly without merit, judging by her clothes and shy demeanor. Another defining feature of the best negs are that they have the ring of truth to them.)

Naturally, and predictably, she, being a member in good standing of the SWPL industrial complex where modesty is considered a character flaw, balked at this. “Modest? You think that? What do you mean by that?”

I ignored the first importuning, but by the second I had to address her metastasizing concern.

“Modesty is a lost art. It’s not a bad thing… usually. Not everyone feels a need to be an exhibitionist.”

You’ll note three things in my response. One, I didn’t back off from my initial assertion. Nothing kills tingles faster than defensiveness or apologia. Two, I continued the ruse under the assumption that my insidious neg was actually a compliment. Three, I added the qualifier “usually” as a means of keeping her hamster in full throttle spin mode.

I see a lot of guys throwing out community-approved negs on 6s, 7s and sometimes 8s like they are jokey zingers, and the result is often bad, as the girl turns on him or slinks away to find better company. No wonder; their technique carries the whiff of insult, which under normal circumstances with normal cute girls will backfire. (Very hot girls who crave assholes tend to better channel direct insults straight to their vagina region.)

The neg is, as Mystery used to implore, almost a hidden code within the larger conversational framework. It’s supposed to be perceived as a throwaway line of sincere and innocent intent that serves two purposes: one, it disqualifies you to sexy babes who start on the assumption that you’re just another joe schmoe who wants in their pants, and two, it infiltrates a girl’s subconscious so that she spends more mental energy analyzing her worth than she does analyzing yours.

Negs often can be as simple as one-word descriptions that are as easily interpreted as unflattering observations as they are as compliments; and therein lies their effectiveness. No need to memorize one-liners. All you have to have at your disposal is a handy list of vital and penetrating adjectives that cause a click and a whirring in the female limbic system. To wit:

modest.
strict.
humble.
wallflower.
unassuming.
strait-laced.
serious.
responsible.
responsible one.
introverted.
conservative.
upright.
polite.
proper.
good person.
moral.
respectable.
hard-headed.
nonconformist.
don’t care about other people’s opinions.
fastidious.
overeager.
excited to be here.
innocent.
out of her element.
guarded.
social butterfly.
above it all.
queen bee.
march to her own drummer.
individualist.
social/fashion/party maven.
netflix kind of girl.
calm.
low-key.
put up a facade for the crowd.
judgemental.
keep to herself.
energized by the scene.
natural performer.
happiest person here.
brooding.
good friend qualities.
easy to approach.
careful.
tentative.

You’ll also note that a lot of these unnervingly ambiguous observations focus on a girl’s presumed inability to cut loose and have some fun. They are designed, in other words, to eradicate anti-slut defenses and persuade her to open up… to you, the fearless judger of her feminine worth. Some others focus on her social naivete, or her craving for attention. Sprinkle to taste. Some of these negs fall under the category of cold reads; the difference being that cold reads are usually unambiguous compliments worded to entrap a girl deeper into conversation by getting her to talk about herself.

Seduction is the art of contrived concealment. You want to seduce without revealing the machinery of your mind, or the purpose of your words. You introduce the dangerous idea, and if you are successful, she picks up the idea and joins you in her own seduction.

At the end of the night she proved to me her bona fide immodesty with a streetlamp illuminated makeout.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Game | Comments Off

Keep Republicans In The Role Of The Opposition Party In 2012

Sep 23rd, 2011 by

It’s what they’re best at. Executive leadership would only hasten America’s drain circling.

The GOP is dead. A corporation of fraudulent hucksters and sycophants. Case in point:

Offering an impassioned defense of [the in-state tuition breaks for illegal immigrants] policy — and receiving boos from a segment of the audience — Mr. Perry did not back down, saying, “If you say that we should not educate children that have come into our state for no other reason than they’ve been brought here by no fault of their own, I don’t think you have a heart,” he said. “We need to be educating these children, because they will become a drag on our society.”

Perry asked Santorum if he had ever been to the border with Mexico.

“I’m surprised if you had,” Perry said as Santorum replied “yes.”

“But you weren’t paying attention, because the idea that you are going to build a wall, a fence for 1,200 mile and then go 800 miles more to Tijuana does not make sense,” he said. “You put the boots on the ground. We know how to make it work.”

Not backing down is not a virtue if it is used as a substitute for critical thinking. Neither are phonyfuck appeals to maudlin sentiment. Rick Perry wallows in both and expects the enervated Republican crowd to lap it up like so much runny shit.

1. The children of illegal immigrants have been brought here through the fault of their parents. If the children suffer as a result of punishment meted to their lawbreaking parents, then those parents will think twice before putting their children in dire circumstances.

2. The children of illegal immigrants would not be a drag on our society if we sent them back home. Bonus: Costs a lot less than educating them here!

3. “You don’t have a heart” is the worst kind of manipulative pap. It’s the kind of thing a person falls back on when their argument is intellectually void.

4. “Have you been to place X?” is the logical fallacy of appeal to geographical proximity. I can learn a lot about Tibet without having to actually go there. It’s called books. Maybe 2.2 GPA Perry should acquaint himself with them.

5. How is Perry so certain a wall won’t work? Fact: A wall, any wall, will work better than no wall at all.

6. “Boots on the ground.” It is to laugh. So, buddy, where are those boots on the ground? You planning to put soldiers on the border beat to prevent Mexicans from getting their free Texas college tuition? You’re all hat and no cattle.

Rick Perry. 100% dumbass. Keep this clown out of the White House. The time for hard clarity in our national politics is past due. Choices must be made stark so the average voter knows who’s really on his side. And he’ll soon find out that just about no one in our elite is. He must learn this object lesson before the reckoning can commence.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Current Events, Goodbye America | Comments Off

What Is Anti-Game?

Sep 23rd, 2011 by

Feh writes:

Anti-game is trivial:

– get misty-eyed at emotional shit
– bore her with details
– constantly let her re-frame
– buy her drinks [Ed: Outside of a date context.]
– compliment her gratuitously
– talk about your hobbies with oblivious enthusiasm
– never ask her a question
– never look away
– let her see your shit-eating smile
– accede to her manipulative horseshit
– never, ever say “horseshit” in conversation

The list could go on …

It could, and it shall. Here are some more anti-game behaviors and traits, from a pickup and LTR perspective:

Constantly remind her how happy you are to be with her.
Laugh at your own jokes.
Laugh uproariously at her “jokes”.
Feed her need for gossip.
Put up with her shit an order of magnitude more frequently than she puts up with your shit.
Ask yes or no or one-word answer type questions.
Act contrite when she catches you checking out her body.
Stare, look away, stare, look away, stare, look away.
Ask her if she has a condom.
Cuddle her so long that she is the one to first start wriggling free.
Hold in farts around her until your colon bursts. (LTR applicable only.)
Fidget, talk fast, mumble, lean in, babble tiresomely like a girl who has a heavy emotional burden to unload.
Talk incessantly about the state of the relationship.
Whine about how hard life is.
Betray too much enthusiasm when she tells you about something cool she did.
Act impressed with her educational credentials or career success.
Sympathize with her bitching about badboy exes.
Agree to her tacit sex timetable. (A woman is capable of making you wait for months absent any masculine push on your part. Ironically, this very acquiescence to her female sensibility will turn her off to sex with you.)
Get wrathfully jealous every time she checks out a dude or talks about another guy.
Spitefully berate her genuine accomplishments.
Say crap like “I don’t deserve you” with sincerity.
Be a kitchen bitch.
Drop everything you like to do to do everything she likes to do. (Man, I know a lot of guys like this. Sickening.)
Wanly smile when she denigrates you to her friends.
Make videos like this. (Suffice to say, this nauseating beta dweeb did not win his ex back, muscles and looks to the contrary notwithstanding.)
Resort to saying “I suppose you’re right” every time she accuses you of some character defect.
Constantly, and insipidly, ask her if she “likes it this way” during lovemaking.
Forget the art of plain old fucking.
Turn to face her fully as soon as you open a girl. Stay that way while she continues giving you her profile.
Buying girls drinks as a MEANS OF OPENING THEM.
Muck up cold reads until they sound like interrogations.
Show up more than five minutes early for dates. (She doesn’t have to know about this, but it will be written all over your body language.)
Go for the night-ending kiss, get denied, follow up by shouting at her as she’s leaving that you’ll call her. Make it a promise.
Skip on the way home after a “successful” date that did not end in sex.
Apologize for infractions she has not even accused you of.
Support feminism. Make a big show of it.
Ingratiate yourself to her. (Example: “Porn is disgusting. I’d never watch it.”)
Know a little too much about the TV wasteland, articles in the Style section of any major newspaper, or women’s fashion.
Make breakfast for her after the first night together. (She has not yet earned your LTR provisions. Buying her breakfast at the local deli is OK.)
Deprecate yourself for cheap laughs and conversation fuel. (As an example of the handicap principle in action, self-deprecation is acceptable in small — very small — doses.)
Follow her from bar to bar.
Join her plans instead of inviting her to join your plans.
Agree to meet her friends before you have sexed her. (Note: this can be pulled off if you have very high value or tight game, and you are certain sex is an eventual given.)
Wait in the exact same spot for her to return after she has told you she’ll be gone for ten minutes. Talk to no one while waiting.
Pine over, or disparage, your ex on a first date.
Listen to her intently when she talks about her exes.
Always follow her conversational lead. Never veer off the path she lays out, or start your own path.
Touch her hair too soon.
Sit with your legs crossed. (Acceptable only if you are an office executive.)
Sweat profusely from anything other than vigorous exercise, sex or fighting.
Eagerly say yes to every one of her requests. (“No” is a powerful male attractant. The mere utterance of it can electrify vulvae.)
Be hopelessly indecisive.
Fail every shit test in spectacular fashion. (Example: vehemently deny you are the thing she says you are.)
Pick your nose and wipe the booger on her forehead. (Save this for the six month mark, at which point she’ll be too invested to do anything more than feebly complain.)

There are many more anti-game tells, but I’ll stop for now. You should get the gist.

***

Anti-game is the suite of low-value male characteristics that actively repulses girls. It is a constellation of insecure, approval-seeking behavior that is a leading indicator the man behaving in such a way is a loser, and worse, believes he is a loser. Anti-game is distinguishable from no-game by the proactive and accelerated nature of its tendency to trigger disgust in women. A no-game-having beta can sometimes obliviously motor through a pickup if the girl he is hitting on is low value herself, or finds him peculiarly attractive, and thus more likely to forgive his lack of charm. But an anti-game-having beta will actually cause an incipient attraction a girl may have for him to quickly dissipate. Anti-game is the equivalent of a monkey throwing feces in the face of a prospective mate. Or Ahmadinejad bloviating about the 12th iman at the UN.

Anti-game, by the way, is a great method for manipulating a girl to break up with you so you don’t have to do the dirty work.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Beta, Guy Rules | Comments Off

The Anti-False Rape Accusation Campaign

Sep 22nd, 2011 by

How would the Justice Department respond if 25% of all black murder suspects were falsely accused of the crime by white accusers? Eric Holder would call an immediate press conference and announce he was mobilizing the national guard, the Mexican Army, and everyone who works in law enforcement to end such blatant, hateful, racist discrimination. He would, with righteous indignation, say there is much work to be done to realize the most holy Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King’s dream. A 25% false black murderer accusation rate might even incline some to believe that white people had it in for black people.

Now what if I told you that studies over the last ten years have shown that false rape accusations are likely in the ballpark of 25%, and could even be as high as 40%? Aghast, you are? Would you be inclined to think that relations between the (American) sexes had deteriorated so much that women were virtually warring against men through legal channels? Can you guess the public’s reaction to this uncomfortable truth? That’s right….. crickets.

Crickets. Because, as this blog has astutely noted before, men are the expendable sex. It is true biologically, and since biology underpins culture, it is also true culturally.

It’s funny how those with the flimsiest evidence and the least facts to support their pet peeves are the loudest, most obnoxious motherfuckers eager to wave a sign or shout a slogan. Well, thanks to this bastion of shibboleth smashing, that’s about to end. Why should the freakazoids of American society have all the fun? It’s time for the sane people who understand the value of facts over wishful thinking and demogoguery to join in the festivities and start their own protest campaigns.

In that spirit, here is the CH approved anti-FRA campaign poster, coming soon to a bus side and billboard near you. (Any ad execs reading now should credit this blog.)

I like the bold, clean font and the stepladder geometry of the lines. Really reaches out and grabs you by the clitties. Underneath, in smaller font, would be the following PSA:

25% of the accused in rape cases are exonerated by DNA evidence. – U.S. Department of Justice
It’s time to end the lies.

***

Beautiful. Brings a tear to me eye, it does. Only one thing could swell my heart to bursting more than the pride of seeing this poster on a subway car: the look of horror and sputtering, impotent rage that would sweep across a feminist’s fat cunty face as she slowly digested what she was reading.

If the FRA rate is indeed on the rise, as the evidence hints at, why are women more than ever falsely accusing innocent men of rape? I have a couple of theories for that. One, female empowerment and the constant cultural feedback that women can do no wrong and there is no height to which their self-esteems cannot rise has emboldened many more women to act on their emotional impulses when they feel aggrieved or their egos are bruised, figuring their chances of getting caught and punished are very low. (They’re right.)

Two, we live in a cultural climate where sex has never been cheaper to get for alpha males. (Beta males are having a worse go of it.) Currently, women have little DMV leverage to entrap ensnare sweetly cajole alpha males into long term commitment. This diminishment of their traditional sexual power has left so many of them bitter and spiteful that they lash out against those men who would deny them the gift of an LTR, and they exact their revenge with the available tools at their disposal — namely, the long but crooked arm of the law, wielded by the shock troops of feminism’s front lines. A demondyke alliance between embittered women and legal feminism has arisen, and in their anti-male arsenal the false rape accusation has proven its effectiveness. FRAs serve well to make casual sex more expensive for men, thus helping to retilt the dating market playing field back in women’s favor.

If all this sounds hopelessly cynical to you, there’s always the option to shoot rainbows up your ass.

There is another way to level the dating field back in women’s favor that doesn’t involve jailing innocent men. But, strangely, feminists don’t seem too keen on that alternative. And so the last days of the West continue unfolding, right on cue.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Culture, Misandry | Comments Off

“Day Bang” Review (Plus Day Game Thoughts)

Sep 20th, 2011 by

I have a question for the men reading this post right now. How much time did you spend in a bar or nightclub this past week? Answer honestly to yourselves. One hour? Five hours? Ten? Or no time at all? Now, ask yourselves, how much time did you spend everywhere else — the supermarket, the gas station, the bookstore, the office, the bus stop, at a restaurant, the coffee shop, the sidewalk, a music festival, the mall, the park, the beach, the train, the pool, etc?

You should see where I’m going with this. Most of the girls you cross paths with will be outside of bars and nightclubs. The largest reservoir of pickup opportunity is everywhere that isn’t a bar or nightclub. PUAs call this day game, for short. If maximizing your efficiency at meeting and bedding women (and maybe a future girlfriend or wife) is your goal, then you need to learn the art of the day game pickup.

Day Bang, a guide to daytime pickup, is Roosh’s latest offering, and it stacks up well to Bang, his first game book. Technically, the writing is sharper and clearer than his first book, minus a few grammatical typos. It is also blessedly free of well-worn community jargon, so you get the impression that you’re reading a cool guy talking to another cool guy in a natural setting, instead of a reformed geek giving a seminar in a hotel conference room. The book is a breeze to read and stresses practical advice as much as theory, which is to be commended. There is enough game theory in circulation, and while having a theoretical underpinning for the reasons why game works is critical to building your inner game and strengthening your resolve, ultimately it’s the field-tested tools of the trade that are going to motivate you to get out there and put it all to work.

Roosh is a proponent of indirect game, where you don’t state your intentions up front like you would do with direct game. He is especially adamant that direct game is a poor strategy for daytime pickup, for sensible reasons he outlines in his book. As he writes:

The bottom line is that there are girls who will reject your direct game that would have eventually fucked you had you gone indirect, but not the other way around.

I’ve read good arguments for and against direct and indirect game, so I can’t definitively tell you that one is better than the other in any given circumstance. (For instance, some PUAs say that direct game is more suitable for girls walking down the sidewalk because you only have less than a minute to make your pitch. Roosh does acknowledge that situations similar to this might call for direct game, but he also points out, correctly in my opinion, that number closes from direct approaches tend to result in more flaking than those from indirect approaches.)

All I will say on this hot-button issue is that I agree with Roosh’s perspective because indirect approaches better match my personality and vibe, and as a result not more than 5% of all my pickup attempts have been direct. So I don’t have a wealth of direct game experience to make a reliable comparison. If you’re new to the game, you should focus on indirect game. Direct game is simple to learn, but hard to master, and you have to be comfortable with lots of outright rejection. Although the time and energy investment with indirect game is greater than direct game, in the end you will achieve more consistent dating results with the indirect approach.

Fundamentally, day game is not much different than night game. You still have to approach, intrigue a girl, play a bit of hard to get, raise your value, and close with a number or continue the conversation with a venue bounce (aka “insta-date”). But there are some subtle, yet important, differences in how you should approach a girl during the daytime versus the nighttime.

Roosh explains these differences in his day game model. Quote:

My model has three main components. The first is the opener. It will be something basic, disarming, and natural enough that it doesn’t scare away the cat. I think you’ll be both amused and pleased at how simple they are. The second component is rambling, where we build attraction by being interesting instead of cocky. Using juicy pieces of bait, we’re going to display our value in a casual way that intrigues her and makes her want to learn more. The last component is Galnuc, a system that personalizes the interaction and helps you get the number (or more).

Two points to make about day game. As Roosh says, girls are more skittish during the day. You simply cannot approach the majority of girls with the same flirtatious gusto during the day that you do at night and expect equally good results. Second, the cocky/funny banter and negs that work so well to lower bitch shields in a nightclub are going to strike a girl as weird or insulting when she’s browsing through a discount table of cookbooks or hurrying to catch a bus. (Not that there isn’t room or need to be cocky/funny in a daytime setting; the caveat is that it’s better to deploy the big neg guns after you’ve eased her into a fruitful conversation.) A more refined, oblique approach is needed for day game, where your flirting and cockiness is toned down and your plausible deniability is ratcheted up. You must master the art of the “slow boil”, as he calls it.

Roosh gets into the exact types of daytime openers to use on girls in specific situations, and they are crafted to sound almost boring, yet maximize the odds that she will be open to continuing the conversation. For example:

She’s writing something in beautiful cursive on pages that have floral borders. She’s using what seems to be an expensive ballpoint pen. What’s the elderly opener? In this case there are two possibilities. Your instinct may be to ask, “What are you writing?” but remember, that’s personal in nature and not likely to get a warm response. She may think of you as a nosy man trying to gain access to her closet of secrets. The best elderly opener from this situation is, “Excuse me, is that a good pen?” You’ll then inquire about the brand, the color of the ink, its width, and if it’s comfortable to hold for long periods of time, all with a serious expression on your face. Almost pretend you’re a pen salesman on the first day of the job, doing research in order to eventually sell it to other people with a long-term goal of having a successful pen career.

Good stuff. And proof that you can productively talk about almost anything with a girl as long as you say it with confidence.

What about segueing from the opener? Roosh covers that, too.

I have a good idea of one way I’d segue out of pen conversation: I’d make a brief comment about how it’s important to have a suitable pen for “my career.” If I did a proper job with the chat and she was open, she’d either ask about my job or respond with how pens are important to her, which would allow us to start talking about something else.

Like Bang, Day Bang is filled with this sort of readily accessible and easily adapted pickup advice, some of which Roosh gleaned from his time with students taking his pickup workshops. But be warned: if you haven’t read Bang, you are likely going to be somewhat lost reading Day Bang. Consider Day Bang more of an adjunct to Bang, a continuation of the series, rather than a standalone book for newbies. You’ll want to get the first book under your belt before you tackle Day Bang.

There’s much more covered in Day Bang, in generous detail (conversations are often replayed exactly as they occurred in real life), including how to respond to or initiate eye contact, coffeeshop and public transit logistics (with helpful diagrams), street pickup, clothing store pickup, bookstore pickup, pre-openers, optimal facial expression, voice tonality, calculated pauses, body positioning (you should never face the entrance of a venue because you want arriving girls to settle in before you hit on them, and you want to be able to see them leaving), baiting the girl to ask you questions, “going personal”, fitting your style and vibe to your target demographic, the value of ambiguity, the art of rambling, closing, and his GALNUC system (GermanAgeLocationNameUsuallyCool), among others.

I thought the book was excellent on openers, logistics and rambling but maybe not quite as comprehensive on closing and follow-up dates (this is where having read Bang will help you). Nonetheless, while the game theory isn’t groundbreaking or heretical in Day Bang (female nature hasn’t changed in ten years), Roosh’s presentation of the theory, and practical application of it, is. In my opinion, it’s not a stretch to consider Bang and Day Bang worthy entries to the canonical game literature, right up there with Mystery Method and Magic Bullets. You read Roosh’s advice, and you can actually see yourself saying it.

More information on Day Bang here.

PS: Roosh’s stories about his time with his younger 14 year old brother were heartwarming. I wish there were more of them. It must be a great feeling to properly guide a young man to understanding the nuttiness psychology of women.

PPS: It’s inevitable that you will eventually tire of the nightclub scene. Nightclub enthusiasm tends to peak for men in their early 20s, and gradually wane after that. If you plan on living a fulfilling, exciting life sharing the company of beautiful women, it is in your interest to see the light on day game and learn it well. Life is full of change. Embrace it.

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Hot Vs Sexy

Sep 19th, 2011 by

Take a look at the very hot Betty Draper (aka January Jones):

She is a raving beauty with a sexual philtrum.

Now take a look at the very sexy Rachel Menken (also a Mad Men character):

Don’t you just want to bang her on a kitchen counter after playing pattycakes with her ass cheeks using a spatula?

If you averaged the ratings of 100 men, there’s little doubt that Betty would score about a point higher on the looks scale than Rachel, and their scores would roughly converge around a 9 for Betty and an 8 for Rachel. (Please spare the readers your personal preference. Averages are what matter in the sexual market.)

Yet, I predict that a majority of men would find Rachel to be “sexier” than Betty. Why is that? What nebulous traits imbue a woman with the alluring glow of sexiness?

I’m sure a man steeped in aesthetic sensibility would craft an enlightening essay full of power adjectives and stirring metaphor as a paean to what constitutes female sexiness, and boy will it sound good on paper. But it won’t mean a goddamned thing. Empty words to flesh out a reality that doesn’t exist except in the glorifier’s head. Which pretty much sums up the whole of modern art, come to think of it.

No, sexiness has little to do with face shape, or eye sparkle, or energy, or chi, or mouth curl, or the way she holds a cigarette. Instead, what sexiness means in the minds of men is a lot more pedestrian. When men say a woman is sexy, they mostly mean she is ATTAINABLE.

The average man looks at a hot woman, and he lusts for her, but he entertains scant possibility that he will be able to bed her. But when that man looks at a perceived sexy woman, he couples with his appreciation a genuine feeling that, given just the right ecological conditions, he could actually seduce that woman and enjoy her sex.

None of this should suggest that sexy women aren’t also good-looking women. Nerds, intelligent but mousy artist types, white knights and feminist apologists for plain janes love the “sexy” label because they value its utility as a loophole and ego massager against the unrelenting and immutable beauty standards of the sexual marketplace. Show me a man who calls an ugly woman ineffably sexy, and I will bet you that he is himself an SMV loser.

Sexy women are never the unattractive (or even marginally attractive) totems to an imaginary equalist dating market that fembots and washed up cougars wish they were. Quite the opposite. While sexy women are often not as hot as genuinely hot women, they aren’t much more than a point lower on the universal looks scale. What primarily distinguishes the sexy woman from the hot woman is that she possesses just enough in the way of physical flaws that she catapults from dreamy but distant object of beauty to alluring but attainable perfumed girl sharing a drink with you.

In other words, you can more easily envision your dick in Rachel’s vagina than in Betty’s vagina, and that makes all the difference in perception.

There are other, relatively minor distinctions that make a sexy girl stand out from a hot girl. Obvious markers would include sluttiness of dress, throat-raspiness of flirting, expertise in lowering the eyelids to half-mast for long periods of time, and mastery of the good-to-go vibe. But before you ugly and plain chicks start practicing your eyelid lowering technique, know that no amount of sexy mimicry will transform your face into one that men want to spermally defile. You still need the looks, and for that you have only your parents, and to a lesser extent your self-discipline to push away from the table, to credit or blame.

There are those rare ultrafeminine creatures who coalesce both ethereal beauty and feral sexiness in one package (before she crossed the Rubenesqueicon):

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Overselectivity And Anti-Game: Like Oil And Water

Sep 16th, 2011 by

Recently, a nerdgirl who works for the nerd site Gizmodo and has a lazy nerd eye and crooked nerd face wrote about her disgust at having dated a nerdguy who, she found out during the course of the date, was a grand champion at some nerd card game called Magic the Nerdering. Dalrock has a good round-up of the nerdy non-affair.

In delicious comeuppance, it turns out our intrepid nerdgirl with her 463 bullet point checklist rejected not just a nerd with nerdy hobbies, but a wealthy hedge fund manager. And if you want to call this revenge (of the spastic sort), brigades of sympathetic nerdboys stormed the Blogstille to throw their venom-tipped Chinese nerd stars at nerdgirl’s soul. (I can’t be bothered to spell out nerdgirl’s real name, such a vapid nonentity she is.) In good nerdy form, she skulked away to lick her wounds.

You might think this is going to be a post piling on nerdgirl’s ridiculously trumped-up standards. After all, nerdgirl is a 4 in beneficially dim lighting, so the only standards she can plausibly hope to meet in men are mental stability and merely intermittent halitosis.

Nerdgirl is the classic entitled American feminist shill and princess wannabe (try squaring that circle — you’ll need a hamster) who suffers from a psychological disorder known as overselectivity (you heard it here first!). She demands for herself from men what she has no ability to give in female value. Result? Dateless, alone, prone to neurotic outbursts on blogs and/or self-mutilation, and a creepy maternal love for all things feline.

Truth, but that is not where your focus should be. Nerdgirl’s public rejection — a type of rejection women only do when they are so thoroughly turned off with a date that they feel a need to lash out in penance for their own lack of judgment — of a man who, on paper at least, is way out of her league, proves a core tenet of game:

Maxim #49: If you have no game, or worse, anti-game, little else will compensate for your unattractiveness.

Nerdiness in style, mannerism and behavior is anti-game. It is even worse than having no game. You can actively repulse a woman who would normally think you a possible match if you run anti-game on her. Men with no game at least get lucky sometimes by steering clear of major fuckups.

Despite his riches, sterling character and good manners, hedge fund nerdguy was a nerd to the bone, and his every verbal and nonverbal tic likely telegraphed that unpalatable fact to his date. The way to bet is that a grand champion of a nerdy hobby is a nerd in most facets of life, and it was his nerdy charmless demeanor — not his involvement with a nerdy pastime — that disgusted nerdgirl and motivated her to libel him, (and inadvertently out herself as an ugly bitch to be avoided).

Need clarity on this point? Sure. Take a guy with game and tell him he has to mention at some point during a date with a hottie that he won a championship playing a nerdy hobby. Do you really think this stipulation will deep six his chances? No, it won’t. If anything, a pickup artist will reframe this tidbit of normally unsexy information in his favor, getting to the girl qualify herself to him that she’s smart enough and adventurous enough to understand the thrill of winning competitions. And she’ll lap it up. Know why? Because everything else about him will be subcommunicating CHARMING BASTARD.

And that’s the moral of this nerd tale of woe. Nn matter how kind you are, how much character you possess, how easy on the eyes you are, or how much money you make, a nerdy personality and anti-game will render you unfit for mating by a pig-faced 4 with delusions of high sexual market value.

PS: Here is a picture of Good Dog Greg, for your amusement:

UPDATE

An astute commenter noted that sometimes these plainer and uglier girls have something to prove that hotter girls, with their more secure belief in their hotness, don’t. So, paradoxically, a high value man might find it tougher to game a 4 into bed than an 8. In this case, that could have happened. Nerdgirl wants the world to know — really, she just wants to convince herself — that she is hot shit, so rejecting nerdguy helped assuage her tattered and frayed ego, giving her an imaginary SMV boost that won’t last past the next pump and dump she endures at the hands of an even nerdier guy.

You can conclude from this theory that men who are beginning to shed their worst beta habits by adopting game would have more success trying to pick up hotter girls than they’re used to, instead of sticking with the nasty little frumps they have become accustomed to thinking that’s all they deserve.

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