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Spot The Beta Male

The really illuminating lesson of this photo is the tacit realization that its inverse wouldn’t be nearly as revealing of the participants’ SMVs. If a hot girl was in the arms of a shlubby beta male, no one would mistake her as the female version of “beta”. She would still be a hot chick. A hot chick with a really lucky beta boyfriend who must have some compensating SMV-boosting traits. No one would negatively reassess her looks (the bulk of a woman’s SMV) because her boyfriend didn’t appear to be “in her league”.

In contrast, people DO reassess the SMV of men based on the physical attractiveness of their girlfriends. A handsome man with an ugly girlfriend isn’t a quirky love match; it’s a tell that the handsome man has unattractive personality qualities which decrease the potential return on his looks. Similarly, an ugly man with a beautiful girlfriend immediately prompts musings that he’s got cash, got flash, got mast, or some combination of all three plus the rarefied “charisma”.

An ugly girl with a handsome boyfriend isn’t the fortunate recipient of positive reassessment from onlookers. An ugly man with a pretty girlfriend *does* receive revisited glowing reviews. This photo is sort of a Voight-Kampff empathy test, reminding viewers that the sexual market values of men are women are intuitively assessed very differently by impartial strangers, because the measure of a man is nothing like the measure of a woman.

In short:

Ugly man with a hot girlfriend is an alpha male.
Handsome man with an ugly girlfriend is a beta male.
Ugly woman with a handsome boyfriend is still an ugly woman.
Hot woman with an ugly boyfriend is still a hot woman.

Some context is needed for this week’s edition of COTW. That venerable company embodying the masculine virtues, Starbucks, recently announced a campaign called “Race Together” (Twit tag: #RaceTogether).

Commenter elmer asked,

Do you patronize the Starbucks in your upscale Bohemian neighborhood? How will you respond to the barista’s entreaties to have a dialogue about race in America?

To which driveallnight, our unanimous COTW winner, replied,

I now request my black coffee be prepared “straight up nigga”

😆 my sides.

Speaking of Starcucks, it’s time for a….

#HateTogether UPDATE!

Via The Seminary of Christian Sadists:

Very respectable troll. America’s aggregate T level just rose a notch, from sloppy wet vagina to erect vestigial clitpenis.

I’m afraid if the white leftoid elite and their vibrant shock troops insist on humiliating non-elite whites, their call for war will be answered with twice the venom and three times the scorched earth. They asked for it…

A reader passed along a screenshot of a text exchange he had with a girl he was trying to bang. He wanted to show how bratty this girl was behaving, tossing shit test after shit test his way, and wondered how he could eventually subdue her, wrest the brat from its chokehold on her id, and get her softly purring like a kitten.

Nick starts weakly. If you know the girl is a nuclear bitch, you’ve gotta make your first swing count. That pimp hand has to make an appearance early to set the tone of the conversation. Nick began like a normal human being, and quickly found out his politeness was ineffective. All his nod to courtesy did was incite Jessica to amazing feats of brattitude.

Right away she calls him Olga. For this reason, I call the style of game designed to tame tankgrrls, Olga Game.

Nick’s reply comes four hours later (he makes her wait as punishment for the ‘tude). He lifts a line straight from CH: “lol bratty mcbrattster”. So far so good.

She plays ball. Another five hours later, she replies “don’t question it hahaha” This chick has squared off with alphas before. I bet she has a clit piercing.

Nick answers two hours later, and amps the asshole a couple of degrees. He pulls out another classic CH line, “littlespoon doesn’t make the rules”. Too little, too late? We’ll see.

Jessica strikes back hard. She thinks she’s being funny, but her last text is tinged with cunty spite. Now I’m convinced that not only does she have a clit piercing, she has taken it up the ass.

I lost the original source for this reader submission, so I don’t know what happened next, or if there was an informative follow-up to this shiv-shaped badinage. All I can tell Nick is that he’s dealing with a hellion, which is bad and good. Bad, because she’ll eat you alive if you show a flicker of beta weakness. Good because if you get through her defenses with your pride intact, she will be the dirtiest slut in bed for you.

Olga Game is essentially script flipping. Girls like Jessica will expect you to continue your hard teasing banter, (and they’ll continue returning equally caustic parries); therefore, the way to win this battle… is to refuse to fight it. Take her mental hamster script and rewrite it. When she expects another emotionally arid jest, respond instead with a faux pose of sincerity, laced with a judgmental pique aimed at her inability to connect like a normal healthy woman.

Jessica Rabid: “no no I think you need to go put on a nice dress blah blah…”

Nick the Iron Dick: “sure, i’ll get on that as soon as you drop the act and be real”

This is thermonuclear script-flipping intended for a very specific audience and context. Gauge wisely. If a girl is a broken record with her endless bitch barrages of return fire, that’s the moment to think about deploying Olga Game. It’s shocking, and for the girl who is used to being shocked by assholes of varying degrees of state control, the “be real” plot change to the stale book of her dating life could be the shock that finally tames her.

Sometimes these sassy chicks get trapped by their own “I’m a tough broad” expectations, and lose the capacity to be emotionally vulnerable around men. Their hearts are as scarred as their vaginas. If you meet one of these girls, think about using that pair of high hearts you have up your sleeve. Make a feint toward vulnerability, however expertly faked, and the hardened trollop may soften up just enough for your penetrating id busters.

Just don’t be stupid about it. Don’t profess your attraction like some warrior poet. A little step back can mean a big leap forward. If she takes the Olga Game bait and backs off a little, you’ve got a chance with her. Now you’re no longer some “fun guy” she feels free to fuck around with because you’re “just another player like all the rest.” Proceed in this manner, extracting genuine emotions, but return to the previous script at inopportune times, like when there’s a sense that the conversation is veering close to sap. Unpredictability will slowly but inevitably switch the chaser-chasee roles into an alignment more favorable for the man’s romantic goals.

Beta Or Gay?

It used to be easy to tell beta males apart from gay males. Betas had their issues with women — social awkwardness, anxiety, inexperience at the art of courtship — but you never mistook their deficiencies for latent homosexuality. Through the sperg haze of their betatude, it was still clear these were guys who were attracted to women and loved to be around pretty girls, (maybe loved them too much, leading to a lack of state control in the company of beautiful babies).

But that was then. This is now:

The onesie party is bad enough, but that ball-crunching leg cross by the guy in the white jammies… jeeeeeezus. I wonder if he looks at his own penis through a system of mirrors, lest he faint from direct sight of it?

Generation Self-Castration. A low T epidemic is sweeping the white West. Pretty soon we’ll be talking about survivalist holdouts with abnormally high T levels in the 5-10 ng/dl range.

So…. these three males: Beta or gay?

The woman-thing appears to be a pear-shaped Lena Dunham clone. All this gaybeta/betagay excitement will not rouse her hamster even a little bit from its slumber, nor will an effervescent tingle circumnavigate her arid tomb chute this night.

Troll Starbucks and get laid. What’s not to like?

Commenter grit turns lemonade into hard 10 lemonade,

Take your [“Race Together”] cup from the hopefully cute barista, return a minute later.
Ask:
“Are you hitting on me?”

She will be perplexed and wonder why.

“Apparently we are going to a 5k together.”

She laughs to break tension. And has to explain what it means, submissively. Ignore anything she says.

Comment how she looks like a runner. As opposed to those people at starbucks who ask for half and half “if you know what i mean”

Notice the time and say “you got that pen handy? How about adding something else to my cup.” Hand back and she asks what to add. “Your number.”

Closed

Tight game, grit. Sticking it to the SJW manlet and stealing the women he wishes he had. Conan, that’s what is good in life.

 

I’ve thought about writing a “Manlet Manifesto” satire to capture the mitegeist of 2015 America, but I kept coming across real world accidental examples that couldn’t be topped. Then, this dropped in the combox.

Corey duBrowa (check its smug neopuritan face) is the Starbucks SVP of Communications responsible for spearheading the “Race Together” initiative, which asked Starbucks baristas “to write ‘Race Together’ on coffee cups as an invitation to talk about race with customers.”

A national, commercialized dialogue on race! Tomato Certified Fresh. These “””race dialogues””” are never two-way. James Watson tried to have a national dialogue about race and he was meta-killed for it. Eric “brown paper bag” Holder requested a national dialogue on race, and then answered the call by demonizing and hounding innocent whites living in vibrant Ferguson, until the whole place burned to the ground and white blood was spilled.

I don’t know how reading “race together” on my coffee cup is supposed to open a dialogue. “Hey thanks for the grande anti-racism. You know, this really gets me thinking. White men are the worst! Amirite?”

Nor is this campaign very informative about the substance of any ensuing dialogue prompted by an Implicit Bias Flat White. “Race together” could mean “race together to cure the disproportionate black-on-white rape rate”, or it could mean “Race together to a liberal white gated community for a higher quality of life”. Maybe it’s “Race together, but the fucking Kenyan is still gonna win.”

I do know that this leftoid gimmick, and the thousands of others like it, is pure anti-white propaganda with the sole purpose of humiliating whites, and particularly white men, in the homeland of their ancestors. Occupied America, indeed.

The fact that GoodWhites are at the helm of this anti-racism evil, using nonwhite pawns as artillery against BadWhites, tells us that the long-running white intra-ethnic war isn’t out of gas yet. In fact, it seems to be heating up.

Anyhow, all this is prelude to an id fart by duBrowa that encapsulates the mentality of white leftoids. I’ll reprint it here, and call it the Manlet Manifesto, because you’ve gotta read it in full to appreciate the whiny, faggoty, mewling majesty.

Why I deleted my Twitter account, and why I’m back.

Last night, around midnight, I deleted my Twitter account. I also blocked a handful of Twitter users — given the hostile nature of what I was seeing, it felt like the right thing to do. I’ve been a dedicated — some might say obsessive — Twitter user for nearly seven years and as a professional communicator, Twitter has proven to be a valuable tool for me to interact with my professional community, with media, on behalf of Starbucks, as well as “on behalf of me.”

But last night I felt personally attacked in a cascade of negativity.

“I felt personally attacked in a cascade of negativity.” This is a contender for most Millennial shitlib phrase ever. It’s right up there with “Here’s why that’s a problem.” duBrowa is not from the Millennial generation, but apparently the tug of Millennial solipsism is so strong it corrupts two or three preceding generations.

I got overwhelmed by the volume and tenor of the discussion, and I reacted.

I first read that as “terror of the discussion”. A reasonable mistake.

Most of all, I was concerned about becoming a distraction from the respectful conversation around Race Together that we have been trying to create. To be clear, Race Together isn’t about me, it’s about we: and having heard first-hand the number of stories our partners (at Starbucks we call our employees “partners”)

So precious. God forbid this suited up SVP making 100X the typical barista acknowledge that a hierarchy exists. As long as the peons swallow this ego-assuaging slop, it’s all good.

shared with us in the open forums of the past few months, I have thought long and hard about the passion, concerns and painful experiences our people across the country have endured, and wanting to make sure they felt supported by their company.

So no matter how ugly the discussion has been since I shut my account down,

Paging Dr Stephen J Krune… Stephen J Krune to the hate phone…

I’m reaffirming my belief in the power of meaningful, civil, thoughtful, respectful open conversation — on Twitter and everywhere else. I believe in it personally, and Starbucks believes in it at the core of our company’s values. It’s this belief that led us to host a series of open forums with our partners in some of the communities most affected by the recent flareups of racial tension across the country. In those meetings, we heard loud and clear that we, as a company, have an opportunity to engage on this topic, no matter how difficult. You can learn more about those meetings, and about what Starbucks is doing, here: http://news.starbucks.com/news/race-together-conversation-has-the-power-to-change-hearts-and-minds.

I’m going to do the same. I’m only one guy,

Fucking grown man using the androgynizing term “guy” to describe himself. I bet he had a fright when his first nut descended.

and I do actually sleep occasionally (and definitely needed to last night), but I personally will answer the challenge to participate where it’s uncomfortable, and to do so with integrity, openness, and empathy.

Do blacks patronize Starcucks in significant numbers? What is the point of this exercise if most of the customers and Starcucks “partners” are white SWPLs, hipsters, and yuppies? Rhetorical.

Who knows if duBrowa actually believes his own horseshit. My guess is, he does, enough to stain his character. The ulterior motivation is the fear that Starcucks and other big companies with deep pockets and SJW fanbases will be a target of the next Anti-Racism Inquisition coming to their boardrooms, and demanding witches to burn and Danegeld to pay. This shit is starting to get expensive. And companies are starting to figure out that loading up their “partnerships” with diversity dross is bad business and bad for the bottom line. Maybe, they think, the best thing to do is throw a preemptive bone to the rabble to distract them while the company continues hiring competent nonvibrants unobstructed.

Hearteningly, even the white SWPL hipsters have their self-abnegation limits. They’re finding their balls and fucking around with corporate. For example, from the #NewStarbucksDrinks hashtag: “Some of my best friends are black coffee.”

Corey duBrowa, congratulations! Not only have you penned the Manlet Manifesto, you are our White Male Pussy Of The Month! The trophy is a giant black strap-on. May you feel a cold spike of fear every time your… er, wife?… uses it on you.

PS The opportunities for trolling #RaceTogether are endless. CH is starting an initiative called #HateTogether. CH will post videos, pics and audios submitted by readers who trolled the last speck of testosterone out of Starcucks. Send in your small part to open the sort of national dialogue that makes the Hivemind shit its diapers.

CH is feeling slutty and hypergamously empowered, hence the reason for this batch of themed posts. We’ll be back to practical pickup advice on the morrow. *tips fedora to adoring concubines*

A reader passes along a sly study which found some discomfiting facts about the mate pairing choices of male and female doctors.

DESIGN: Cross-sectional survey.
SETTING: Two medical schools in Ohio.
PARTICIPANTS: A random sample of physicians from the classes of 1980 to 1990.

RESULTS: Of 2000 eligible physicians, 1208 responded (752 men and 456 women). Twenty-two percent of male physicians and 44% of female physicians were married to physicians (P < 0.001). Men and women in dual-doctor families differed (P < 0.001) from other married physicians in key aspects of their professional and family lives: They earned less money, less often felt that their career took precedence over their spouse’s career, and more often played a major role in child-rearing. These differences were greater for female physicians than for male physicians. Men and women in dual-doctor families were similar to other physicians in the frequency with which they achieved career goals and goals for their children and with which they felt conflict between professional and family roles. Marriage to another physician had distinct benefits (P < 0.001) for both men and women, including more frequent enjoyment from shared work interests and higher family incomes.

***

Case study of hypergamy regarding “high status women” i.e. doctors:

22% percent of male physicians and 44% of female physicians were married to other physicians

How do those numbers add up?

How indeed. 😏

Part of the reason for the sex disparity in physician-to-physician (P2P) marriage is the demographics of these two medical schools. If male medical students roughly outnumber female medical students two-to-one, then a necessarily higher percentage of the female student pool will be married to their male peers, assuming all the P2P marriages are within-school.

That’s a big assumption, of course. Most likely, many of these P2P marriages drew from the larger physician mating pool outside of the medical school context. Therefore, something else must be going on to fully account for the P2P sex disparity.

Female hypergamy is the most obvious “something else”. Women HATE HATE HATE marrying down, where by “marrying down” we mean marriage to a man with a combination of social, physical, personality, occupational, and economic statuses that in total lower his MMV below the woman’s achievable spouse acquisition threshold. Given two equally attractive men, (attractive along multiple dimensions of measurement), separated by only one difference — their job title, say — most women would choose the man with the higher status title.

This is a highly abstract thought experiment, to be sure, but it does help illustrate how intolerable the idea of, as Rollo puts it, an “unoptimized hypergamous desire” is to women. Unlike men, for whom as a sex there is very little psychological consternation when contemplating marrying an HB8 nurse versus marrying an HB8 doctor (usually the nurse wins this mental exercise and almost as often wins the real world exercise), women have a real aversion to failing to absolutely maximize the return on their sexual value. Women’s visceral aversion to marrying down expresses as a distraught emotional state, which itself is a property of their Bartholin’s-drenched genes impelling them (usually) to be supremely cautious about choosing which men will have the honor of monopolizing their limited collection of rapidly-spoiling eggs.

Sperm is cheap, eggs are expensive, as it were. 😎

If Female Hypergamy, MD is at play in the P2P marriage statistics, then the numbers found in the linked study make sense. More female doctors refuse to marry non-doctor men (“doctor” being one of, if not the, highest status general occupations), and instead hold out to marry (likely beta male) doctors. If men are not as hypergamous as women, (and given men are predominately interested in youth and beauty), then we would see relatively fewer male doctors obsessively pursing marriage with female doctors to the exclusion of all other kinds of women who meet similar physical attractiveness thresholds.

Which, again, is what the numbers allude.

Female hypergamy can be both a force for good and a recipe for decrepitude. Think of it this way: when women place high demands on their potential suitors, men are motivated, under normal patriarchally-delineated and tribally-coherent circumstances, to step up and appease the reproductively more valuable sex. Female hypergamy, in this instance, can assist in civilizing an organic nation. But the civilizing assist rests in large part on the nature of the women’s demands. Do women demand accomplished, peaceable, wise men, or tattooed, impulsive roughnecks? The answer isn’t so obvious, and can change depending on environmental or biological cues, the most palpable cue being women’s ovulation cycle.

Where female hypergamy can fail a civilization is when it spins out of control, driving high social status women possessing a more civilized suite of genes to become terribly assiduous about reserving their genes for men of equal or greater genetic blessing. This failure manifests in two ways: One, by reducing the fertility of aging, high IQ spinster candidates. Two, by restricting the Clarkian genetic mobility to a small sliver of inbred, credentialist, suckup overachievers.

If female doctors refuse to breed with any man who isn’t a doctor, then their civilization-compatible genes get shunted into a narrow, shrinking demographic slice. In this scenario, female hypergamy fails to further civilizational progress, and can even reverse it by unwittingly creating massive chasms in intra-ethnic economic, social, and reproductive inequalities.

The real mean trick the devil played on women when he crafted their souls was his refusal to reconcile female hypergamy with female beauty. Ugly women with high social status want the same high social status men that pretty women want. Her intrinsic hypergamy becomes the ugly overachiever woman’s worst enemy.

But the ugly women have no chance, an intractable problem which is compounded by the ability and willingness of many unattractive, masculinized SMRT women to conceal under mounds of self-delusion and ego-sparing bromides, aka Feminism.

In stark contrast, high IQ and high social status male doctors, who aren’t nearly as maritally hypergamous as their female peers, spread their civilization-compatible genes more widely. There are plenty of youthful, pretty girls at most IQ ranges, after all. There then follows a “trickle down” effect in doubleplusgood genes, as higher status men knock up sexy but not quite as feminist tankgrrl striver-ish secretaries and nurses. If anything, most men with options prefer somewhat lower social status wives, as they generally present fewer headaches on the way to romantic and familial bliss. (Sexual polarity is the best preventive medicine against marital discord.)

Female Hypergamy is both Brahma the Creator and SHIVa the Destroyer. Women’s leashed sexuality births empires; women’s unleashed sexuality desiccates civilizations. We are well past the birthing stage of America and well into the barren womb stage.

I have mentioned before that the cultural, if not consequently procreative, shift in female romantic preference for badboys may be a subconscious reaction to a native society getting overrun with weak, effete males intent on bending over and taking it up the pooper by unapologetically self-serving, outgroup marauders. If I’m right, then the trend toward intensified assortative mating within the credentialist classes, as noted by Charles Murray of “Coming Apart” fame, may get short-circuited by a silent, but extremely powerful, resistance in the form of a shift in female hypergamous mate preference for less conformist (and hence less credentialed), less obediently beta, sexier jerkboys.

Highly speculative, I admit, but my instant-feedback field observations tell me something like this is happening in geographic beta male cuckspots. Picking up the dinner tab, waiting months for sex, and signaling dependability just don’t buy as much lovestruck pussy as it used to. Sending a half-assed birthday cat emoji, on the other hand, pays poon dividends.

In secular, sex egalitarian, established civilizations like the West, the great anti-feminist truth may be that Male Hypergamy — the desire of men for ever prettier and younger women, and the ability of HMMV men to fulfill that desire — will be the heart matter force that saves the advanced cultures from navel-gazing themselves into oblivion.

Rollo comments, concerning the de-stigmatization of polyamory subject,

Making Up for Missing Out:

On a social scale it seem like the next deductive next step – blend a justifiable Eat Pray Love narrative with the more visceral (yet unignorable) sexuality of 50 Shades and women will readily consume it. I expect there will be the same hamster spinnings of NAWALT and most women respect their marriage vows, but it still wont wash with the overwhelming ‘guilty pleasure’ popularity that 50 Shades exposed on a large scale.

Writers like Rinaldi and E.L. James have tapped into the Alpha Fucks / Beta Bucks anxiety rooted in women’s primal insecurity inherent in doubting their optimization of Hypergamy. If appealing to visceral sex sells products to men, appealing to the inherent ‘you-only-live-once’ insecurity of feminine Hypergamy sells to women – and women being the primary consumers in western society, sell it does.

EatPrayGetPumpedAndDumped plus 50 Shades is the event horizon of civilizational decadence and decline. Once that Boobicon is crossed, it’s a rapid swirl down the toilet bowl. Give women the run of the place and the Swirl is the inevitable result.

I believe the Roman Empire in its waning years was also marked by sexual libertinism, especially of their women. Weimar Germany, too, before its rebirth under a patriarchal epoch which unfortunately insufficiently and belatedly weeded out the psychopaths who are otherwise so crucial to the early stages of revolution, welcomed the indignities of wanton women pursuing the alpha fux/beta bux (sometimes not even bothering with the beta bux) lifestyle.

A telling societal signal of imminent collapse is the glorification and commercialization of the worst instincts of women, and the denigration of the best instincts of men. Our women become like men, and our men like women, until an androgynous slop characterizes an empire wheezing its last.

For a small but portentous example of this radical change, just read the title of the latest attention whore du jour’s memoir: “The Wild Oats Project”. Sowing one’s wild oats used to be the prerogative of men, or at least the excusable offense of men, and this was widely understood by men and women. Now the modern aggrocunt and her mewling manlet sidekick want to assume the wild oats mantle for aging hags and urban brunchettes, while denying the same fun to men whose testes haven’t yet climbed north to hibernate.

The cultural message is unmistakable: The clit is the new cock. But this message is wrapped in a fairy tale with a very dark ending. Women can no more play the man’s game than men can play the woman’s game. Not for long, at any rate, and not without a gnawing unhappiness that corrodes the soul.

UGH VAPING HIPSTERS

The streets are getting overrun with hipsters puffing limp-wristedly on electronic, cigar-shaped vaporizers. Now the unmuscled, orally-fixated white hipster signals his approach with a little blue LED light and a swirl of nicotine/weed steam emanating from his smelly beard. Are there that many former hipster smokers trying to quit, or is the vape pen just another SWPL attempt to ape actual coolness in an age of anti-racism schoolmarms and sexually ambiguous male feminists? “Vape bars” aren’t far behind.

I recently bought a foot-long vape pipe. I don’t intend to smoke it. I’ll just have it worked into an illustrious pendant worn as a mating cue to passing ladies. Vape rape. 😎

Helicopter Parents

One reason why helicopter parenting is on the rise may have to do with the general post-industrial trend toward smaller families (fewer children, and fewer parents in each home). If you only have one kid, you’ll be more careful about shielding your kid from uncertainties and dangers. If there’s only one parent to guide that kid through the thickets of life, it’ll be easier to simply keep the kid away from unscheduled adventures that could mean more stress for the single mom.

Agnostic writes a lot about helicopter parenting, so I wonder if he’s already touched on the role of small families in driving the obsessive-compulsive parenting trend. Big families used to mean you could let one or two buggers slip through the cracks without freaking out about the possibility of total loss of your genetic heritage.

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