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Reader Camron emailed:

I’ve dated lots of women and one common thread I’ve noticed is around the 1st or 2nd date, about 3/4 into the date, if you haven’t said anything for a minute the woman will ask “What are you thinking?”

Obviously I’m thinking about how awesome it would be to take her home and have sex with her, but my usually response is “Oh nothing,” and I changed the subject.

I usually end up sleeping with said woman, but I kinda feel like I’m slipping up at this moment. What should I say to that question? Should I tell her the truth? Should I move in closer at that moment and kiss her?

I get a lot of similar emails asking for advice along the lines of “What should I say when Girl says X?”, where X usually describes some innocuous question the girl asked or some kind of wholly typical shit test she’s tossing out. The answer I give is almost always the same: stop taking her so seriously.

If men could only learn and apply one rule of game it would be this: Don’t take her seriously. So much suffering of the heart could be avoided by following this one simple rule.

When a woman asks “What are you thinking?” your first, knee-jerk instinct should be to respond with something funny, silly, or evasive.

“What are you thinking?”

“If it’d be better to be reborn as a cat or a dog.”

Stop worrying about answering women’s questions directly. Playfully annoy them instead. Annoyance is great foreplay.

Better still, don’t answer with words at all. Let your kisses and gropes do the talking.

As for this reader’s specific scenario, the supersexed Don Juan strategy can work if the context is favorable. Have you gamed her to the point where she is throwing out lots of IOIs? Do her eyes sparkle with sex? Then, yes, lean into her ear and whisper that you’re thinking of ripping her clothes off so angrily that the buttons pop, and throwing her over the back of the sofa to fuck her like a wild animal in heat. But if you’re on the first date and kino has been mild, you may want to wait until you’ve at least kissed her before unleashing your inner crotch tyrant.

Truth is, most of the time the context will not allow you to run sex animal direct game. Save the raunch-talk for the bedroom if you’re in doubt about the suitability of the moment. Kissing a girl in response to an apparently banal question can be a good tactic if the mood is right.

There is a fine line of distinction between telling a girl your intentions and acting with intention. Sure, it’s a bold move to walk up to girls and, within five minutes of meeting, announce with great gusto that you want to fuck them, but that is the sort of boldness that’ll sooner get you shot than bring you battlefield victory. Your very low but time and energy efficient success rate will hardly compensate for the number of strikeouts you’ll have to endure. In contrast, *acting* with intention is very attractive to women. Your nonverbal communication (a big part of game) should be speaking what your tongue will hold. So while the reader might think that verbally expressing his honest desire is the winning move, more often than not it’s better to play a game of ambiguity and innuendo, and carry yourself with the swagger of a man who is thinking exactly what she thinks he’s thinking.

[crypto-donation-box]

Ass Saving and Wife Taming

Reader GdI wrote in the comments to yesterday’s post:

All very interesting but I miss CH, whose near-daily offerings were that rarest of things online: unique. Funny, pithy, deeply irreverent, yet also profoundly based on a coherent and totally counterrevolutionary (and utterly reality-based) worldview. As Ken Tynan said, “Write heresy, pure heresy …” And so it was.

Occasional forays into paleo-punk politics and HBD-istan are are well and good, but Citizen Renegade ain’t doing it. This CH-lite-by-committee thing ain’t working.

Bring back The Dark Lord!

I see his point. This blog has been missing satan’s spittle lately. Henceforth, the dude who’s been writing the mid-week posts has been reassigned temporarily to Vladivostok. Now let’s get down to business.

Got mistress? If your woman finds a pair of earrings in your bedroom that aren’t hers, simply tell her:

“I was doing some spring cleaning and I found those. I figured they were yours.”

This is an impenetrable defense. The phrasing leads her to think the earrings are from a girl many years ago. You get the double plus goodness of insta-absolution plus the resume booster of female preselection.

Real Men of Genius called; they want this blog’s knowledge.

***

There’s this scene in “Death at a Funeral” that involves Uncle Russell, Norman, a toilet, a hand, and a runny shit deflected mid-expulsion. When I think of marriage, this is the scene that comes to mind — trapped under the maelstrom of an agitated anus. And yet, despite my words of warning, some of you will be damnfool enough to go ahead and get married.

Ok, then, if you want to march into the iron maiden with a dopey grin on your face, at least nudge the very bad odds slightly in your favor.

Rule #1 for men who insist on marrying the pussy they’ve been getting for free:

Make her propose first.

Yeah, this won’t be easy. How many women do you know who proposed marriage to their recalcitrant boyfriends? I know one. ONE. But that one gives all men hope, for where there is one, there can be many.

What’s the big deal about getting her to propose, you ask? Oh man, you have no idea how much misery you’d be saving yourself. Every time there’s an argument, and wifey is tempted to play that favorable divorce card with all the gatling guns of the misandrist industrial complex pointed squarely between your eyes, she’ll remember that time she dropped to one knee to ask — or more likely to beg for — *your* hand in marriage, and her rationalization hamster will whisper in her brain that the argument must be her fault, because why on earth would she have proposed to an annoying loser? No, it must be that there’s something wrong with her, not you.

When a woman proposes, it is she who invests in the marriage. She becomes the chaser instead of the chased. It is her ego on the line; her judgement. A woman in this psychological lockbox will be a lot more apprehensive about walking away from the marriage. She will autonomically defer always and forever to the premise that all bitter arguments and all traveling tingles must be unfair to her husband somehow. After all, she proposed marriage to a WINNER. What girl in her right mind would propose to a chump?

Unfortunately, steering a girl to do the humiliating work of proposing is not easy. She has to be head over heels in love, for one thing. And she has to feel acutely the dread of loss. Hints at marriage won’t cut it. She has to say the words “Will you marry me?”. Variations such as “Let’s get married” or “I feel we should be married” are acceptable.

Only masters of the game should attempt the parallel universe proposal. Newbs will get dumped.

***

Need a quickie conversation boosting routine? Tell a chick you’re thinking about getting a dog. Then segue… smoothly, like a single malt… into an observation about how people’s dogs match their personalities. Tell her she looks like the type who would own a jack russell terrier. When she asks why, you say “Oh, you know, always jumpy, kinda funny in an accidental way, and full of energy.” (When negging a chick hard, Uzi style, you’ll want to pair two negative connotations with one positive connotation. You want to deflate her bloated ego, not crush it into a powder that can be snorted.)

This is a powerful neg that serves the dual purpose of giving you reams of conversational material so you don’t run into the dreaded wall of awkward silence.

The hotter she is, the gayer/nastier/goofier the dog to which you will compare her. If she’s a 9, tell her she’s a chinese crested kind of girl. If she’s a 10, she’s the type to own a fat, farting basset hound. Save the noble dogs like german shepherds for the 7s and below. If a hot chick gives you a hard time about being compared to the personality of an incontinent chihuahua, accuse her of ignoring the beautiful parts of a chihuahua’s personality, like its fierce loyalty and big dog syndrome. She will start to feel bad for being mean to chihuahuas. Pat her hand as she reconsiders her malevolence.

***

Chicks who read comic books are slutty. They will bang on the first night. Don’t ask me why this is, it just is.

***

If you haven’t touched a girl on the forearm within ten minutes of meeting her, disengage. Your pickup is toast. If you haven’t touched a girl on the thigh within thirty minutes of meeting her, cut your losses and start fresh with a new girl.

Let me explain. In every one of my successful pickups, sensual touching occurred sometime within the first half hour. If you find yourself talking to a girl for longer than ten minutes without any touching taking place, you are perched over the LJBF abyss. Her erotic charge has been drained to less than 50%. And don’t be fooled by her smiling and laughing along with your witticisms and cutesy quips. Her lips may be curled in a smile, but her untouched body is withering into a cloistered nunnery of pussy dust.

Kino is king. Escalation is eminent. Zap these golden maxims into your wet head ham.

***

You can catch a lot of pretend-pious SWPL chicks off guard with this simple line:

“So how are you helping the environment for earth day?”

If she’s a status-jockeying hipster, expect a glorious apologia of defensive posturing. And where are tingles birthed? In the defensive crouch, of course!

If she’s Dana, expect her to laugh in your face. Then grab her and give her a deep, penetrating kiss. Sneak in a little tongue.

[crypto-donation-box]

Descent Of Man

A couple of years ago two neuroscientists wrote a book about a supposedly little-studied extinct group of humans whose bones were found in South Africa. A very large skull with child-like facial features was discovered, and the skeleton was dubbed “Boskop Man”.

The scientific community of South Africa was small, and before long the skull came to the attention of S. H. Haughton, one of the country’s few formally trained paleontologists. He reported his findings at a 1915 meeting of the Royal Society of South Africa. “The cranial capacity must have been very large,” he said, and “calculation by the method of Broca gives a minimum figure of 1,832 cc [cubic centimeters] .” The Boskop skull, it would seem, housed a brain perhaps 25 percent or more larger than our own.

[…]

Might the very large Boskop skull be an aberration? Might it have been caused by hydrocephalus or some other disease? These questions were quickly preempted by new discoveries of more of these skulls.

As if the Boskop story were not already strange enough, the accumulation of additional remains revealed another bizarre feature: These people had small, childlike faces. Physical anthropologists use the term pedomorphosis to describe the retention of juvenile features into adulthood. This phenomenon is sometimes used to explain rapid evolutionary changes. For example, certain amphibians retain fishlike gills even when fully mature and past their water-inhabiting period. Humans are said by some to be pedomorphic compared with other primates.Our facial structure bears some resemblance to that of an immature ape. Boskop’s appearance may be described in terms of this trait. A typical current European adult, for instance, has a face that takes up roughly one-third of his overall cranium size. Boskop has a face that takes up only about one-fifth of his cranium size, closer to the proportions of a child. Examination of individual bones confirmed that the nose, cheeks, and jaw were all childlike.

An extinct race of humans much smarter than us? Possibly killed off by their less evolved, savage human neighbors? Curious, I did a web search on the Boskops and found a debunking of sorts of the book by John Hawks.

That is pretty much where matters have stood ever since. “Boskopoid” is used only in this historical sense; it is has not been an active unit of analysis since the 1950’s. By 1963, Brothwell could claim that Boskop itself was nothing more than a large skull of Khoisan type, leaving the concept of a “Boskop race” far behind.

Today, skeletal remains from South African LSA are generally believed to be ancestral to historic peoples in the region, including the Khoikhoi and San. The ancient people did not mysteriously disappear: they are still with us! The artistic legacy of the ancient peoples, clearly evidenced in rock art, is impressive but no more so than that of the European Upper Paleolithic or that of indigenous Australians.

And their brains were not all that big. Boskop itself is a large skull, but it is a clear standout in the sample of ancient South African crania; other males range from 1350 to 1600 ml (these are documented by Henneberg and Steyn 1993). That is around the same as Upper Paleolithic Europeans and pre-Neolithic Chinese. LSA South Africans fit in with their contemporaries around the world.

To be sure, there has been a reduction in the average brain size in South Africa during the last 10,000 years, and there have been parallel reductions in Europe and China — pretty much everywhere we have decent samples of skeletons, it looks like brains have been shrinking. This is something I’ve done quite a bit of research on, and will continue to do so, because it’s interesting. But it is hardly a sign that ancient humans had mysterious mental powers — it is probably a matter of energetic efficiency (brains are expensive), developmental time (brains take a long time to mature) and diet (brains require high protein and fat consumption, less and less available to Holocene populations).

OK, so Boskop Man is not a separate human lineage. But at least one sample did have a very big skull. (According to the authors of the book, numerous other skeletons with oversized skulls were found in the dig area.) Was it then possible that a small tribe of very smart ancients in South Africa once existed? Did they suffer from a disease? Or were they just exceptional individuals on the upper end of skull sizes for their time?

Hawks mentions the fact that brains have been shrinking over time across the world. I have also read that Neandertals had larger brain volumes than modern humans. These leads to all sorts of depressing conjecture. Is it possible we are getting stupider? Our cultural achievements would suggest otherwise, but maybe Neandertals would have accomplished even greater intellectual feats than modern humans had they been born during a time with a supportive industrial infrastructure.

And is there an upper limit on just how smart humans can get? As brain volumes grow, women’s pelvises must grow wider in proportion, otherwise more big-brained infants die during childbirth. But very wide-hipped women would have trouble walking or running, not to mention they would look sexually grotesque to men searching for a mate. Northeast Asians and Ashkenazi Jews are known to have the highest average IQs in the world. Do their women have correspondingly greater than average hip widths to accommodate all those big brained babies?

Because of this inherent pelvic width limitation, there may be (anti)evolutionary forces at work that select against smarter babies. The direction of evolution is not necessarily one of progress; it is, instead, in the direction of survival and replication. Which is not synonymous with ever-expanding intelligence. A sobering thought that we could just as easily devolve backward to a more aggressive distant ancestor archetype than evolve forward into bulbous headed little grey men. Not to say that there couldn’t be ways around the pelvic trap. If the selection forces for smarts are strong enough (and in a cognitively demanding society like ours the evidence for smarts selection has disappeared under the lower fertility rate of educated women), then perhaps Darwinian expedience will jerry-rig a system to ensure our brains can continue growing larger. Maybe by moving most of the skull and brain growth post-natally, or rewiring the neurons to become more efficient.

Anyhow, it’s amusing to wonder if there was an ancient human population much smarter than our own who were killed off by the envious and aggressive idiocrats in their midst at the time. Is that what happened to the Neandertals?

[crypto-donation-box]

Heady Pettiness

I was with a girl shopping for assorted consumerist baubles. Technically, she was shopping and I was providing color commentary. A man must learn to amuse himself to pull through these dreaded moments. In the middle of a well-delivered quip, I noticed from the most distant corner of my eye a familiar jeans-covered ass. I studied the ass for a bit and the flow of hair down the back and realized it was one of my exes. She turned around and confirmed for me it was her.

She didn’t see me. I watched her for a bit. The three years were not kind to her. Her body was still great but her face looked drawn, eyes sad, and was that an incipient turkey gullet? When I dated her she was a solid 8, and sexy as hell. Now? A 7. Barely. In just three years she dropped a full point. I wondered if she had gone through an emotionally draining divorce in the time since I’d known her. She was at the store alone on a day in which most women are shopping with their partners.

My time spent with her had been good. I held no ill will toward her. We departed not as exes, but as former lovers, blessedly free of bitterness or rancor. And yet, when I saw my ex there in the store, and mentally noted that the girl I was with was better looking than her, a sadistic urge to flaunt my latest lover and parade her past my ex like a trophy float overcame me. I maneuvered myself and my female company into visual range of my ex. I refrained from looking over. I wanted the bump in to feel natural. (Had my lover been less attractive than my ex, I would’ve hid behind the clothes racks and rushed us out of the store.)

As I maneuvered closer to my ex through the aisles of clothes and kitchenware, I placed my hands lovingly on various erogenous zones of my companion’s body. All while pretending not to notice my ex. I slid my hand down my lover’s back, played with her hair, and made sure to tell a joke so that she giggled girlishly within earshot of my ex. Unfortunately, my ex didn’t notice. Either she was captivated by the 40% sale on hand towels, or she was expertly avoiding acknowledging my presence. I doubted the latter, because usually even the best actresses cannot hold it together with zen-like calm and serenity when bumping into an ex who left such an indelible impression on them. They give away their true feelings with a nearly imperceptible quiver in the shoulders, or a nervous dart of the eyes.

Had she forgotten me? Not possible. We dated too many months, and I… did things… with her that assured a memorial to me would forever be etched in her brain, like a Vietnam Lovers Memorial of sex acts. Or maybe she didn’t recognize me? I *was* wearing a hat, crisply turned down along the front brim.

Nevertheless, no matter how much I maneuvered, I couldn’t needle my ex with my profound pettiness. She remained steadfastly unaware of my presence, flitting about the store like a hummingbird. What a wasted opportunity for a deliciously ego-massaging bump in.

I told my girl about my ex being alone in the store, and how I was trying to get the ex to see us. I also told her she was hotter than my ex. Instead of chastising me for my immaturity, her eyes lit up with conspiratorial glee and she offered a strategy.

“Ooh, I’m curious. Which one is she? Let’s walk by her and I’ll stick my ass out for you to smack. Yay!”

God bless women. Just when you are about to resign yourself to the thought that they are made of nothing but sugar and spice and everything nice, you are reminded of the arsenic laced within.

We left the store mission unaccomplished. I pondered for a second why I relished the thought of rubbing my happiness in the face of a sad, possibly single ex for whom I had nothing but warm feelings. I had released the id monster from its hindbrain depths, and danced a little jig with it.

I guess it just feels too good. And I’ve no doubt she would’ve done the same had the shoe been on the other foot. Any woman would’ve done the same. But don’t bother asking them. They’ll deny deny deny. They’ve got an image to burnish, you see.

Note: As with many of my posts, the chronology of this post has been altered to protect the innocent. Namely, me.

[crypto-donation-box]

What is it with left wingers and their sick compulsion to denigrate everything that is good about their countries? I’d hate to think it’s something as banal as snooty status jockeying to distance themselves from the lesser patriotic proles, but that’s probably it.

Hey, Clegg, while you’re feeling bad for the Nazis maybe you could spare a moment to feel bad for the London subway bombers? There’s a good chap.

[crypto-donation-box]

Randall Parker forwarded me a link to a study about abundance of mate choice affecting the quality of the choice.

Quantity may determine quality when choosing romantic partners

The context in which humans meet potential mates has a hidden influence on who they decide to pursue. In particular, when people have a large number of potential dating partners to select among, they respond by paying attention to different types of characteristics – discarding attributes such as education, smoking status, and occupation in favor of physical characteristics such as height and weight.

A number of studies in recent years have looked at what happens to humans when faced with extensive choice – too many kinds of chocolate, or too many detergents to choose from at the grocery store. Under such circumstances, consumer psychologists believe that the brain may become “overwhelmed,” potentially leading to poorer quality choice or choice deferral. Psychological scientist Alison Lenton, of the University of Edinburgh, and economist Marco Francesconi, of the University of Essex, wanted to know if the same was true of mate choice, given that humans have been practicing this particular choice for millennia. “Is having too many mate options really like having too many jams?” they ask. The study is published in Psychological Science, a journal of the Association for Psychological Science.

To find out how people respond to relatively limited versus extensive mate choice, Lenton and Francesconi analyzed data from 84 speed dating events, which is where people meet with a series of potential dates for three minutes each. Afterward, the men and women report their choices (a “yes” or “no” for each person). It should surprise no one that choosers generally preferred people who were taller, younger, and well-educated. Women also preferred partners who weren’t too skinny, and men preferred women who weren’t overweight. Beyond that, though, the attributes that speed daters paid attention to depended on how many opposite-sex speed daters attended the event.

At bigger speed dating events, with 24 or more dates, both male and female choosers were more likely to decide based on attributes that could be judged quickly, such as their dates’ height, and whether they were underweight, normal weight, or overweight. At smaller events, choosers were more likely to make decisions based on attributes that take longer to identify and evaluate, such as their dates’ level of education, their type of job, and whether or not the person smokes.

“Obviously, I think we look for different attributes in partners than what we look for in a chocolate, a jam or a 401(k) plan,” says Lenton. “But one of the points we’re trying to make in this article is it’s the same brain we’re carrying around. There are constraints on what our brains can do – they’re quite powerful, but they can’t pay attention to everything at once.” And if the brain is faced with abundant choice, even about who to go out with, it may make decisions based on what it can evaluate most quickly. As a result, this previously invisible aspect of the choice environment has the potential to determine one’s romantic fate.

The consumerists’ quandary. I’m surprised this phenomenon hasn’t been discussed more by game instructors. It would seem logical that the number of girls as well as the number of men in a pickup environment would have an effect on how we choose mates and how we ourselves are perceived as mates. How many times have you stood in front of a huge aisle displaying 62 varieties of vitamins and just said “fuck it” and grabbed the cheapest, or the nearest, brand? If “choice deferral” or choice constriction happens with vitamin brands, then it could conceivably happen with girl brands.

So what are the take-home points from this study? What should we men, always on the lookout for a quicker route to getting laid and loved, learn from the study’s conclusions?

  1. In groups that have a lot of men, (for example, clubs and bars on busy nights), women will evaluate your mate potential on “superficial” (i.e. readily discernible) qualities like height and looks.
  2. A corollary to number 1 is that in venues where there is a lot of male competition for the women to choose among, and you are average or below in superficial traits, you will not get many chances to run game on the girls.
  3. In groups of few people, (for example, book clubs or painting classes), women will evaluate your potential as a partner on more “meaningful” qualities that can only be discovered during the course of lengthier conversations.
  4. A corollary to number 3 is that women will be more likely to grant an average looking man an audition at an event that has few other men from which the women can choose. She will also want to know more about each man she joins in conversation.

If you imagine each woman has a tingle-o-meter that oscillates with varying strength to the proportion of male attractiveness traits present in a man she is talking with, and that also oscillates according to the number of other men in her visual field, then you can visualize how a typical woman will react to you in different environments. If you are great looking and tall, you will get a lot of insta-play from women where large numbers of other men are present. She will be choosing you almost entirely based on your easily perceived high value traits, and will likely be more forgiving of any shortfalls you may have in the less visually oriented suite of male attractiveness traits. So if you’re a broke, uneducated, Johnny Depp lookalike, you’ll want to make nightclubs your venue of choice, and you’ll want to close the deal sooner rather than later, before she has an inclination to dig deeper into your value as a man.

If you are not great looking or tall, then you’ll want to steer clear of venues where there will be a lot of men. You will do best in smaller groups with few men, let’s say bars on a weeknight, where the women will be open to learning more about you, and also likelier to overlook any physical shortcomings you may have. She will be choosing you based on a mixed package of easily perceived physical traits and less obvious high value male traits such as dominance, physical assuredness, humor, and charm/game. So if you have tight game but lack the looks to easily acquire auditions to demonstrate your game, you’ll want to focus on environments with few other men around, like day game or really any venue on a night besides Friday or Saturday night.

Since by definition most men are not in the top 10% of looks and height, it stands to reason that pickup instructors should not be teaching game to newbies in high energy environments like nightclubs. The best place to practice game is any place where a bunch of superficially high value men will not show up to distract the girl.

Some other conclusions we can draw from the study:

  • This “choice abundance mentality” by women can be artificially triggered. If you have a lot of guy friends who are worse looking than you, then bring your posse to the local club. Faced with all those men to choose from, the women will naturally gravitate to you as the most superficially appealing man of the group.
  • Addendum to the above: your friends can’t be *too* dorky, because then the women will tar you with the same dork brush.
  • Also, if one of your less good looking friends has better game than you, and the environment you are in is sufficiently low key that he can run his game undistracted, then he may steal the girls’ attention from you. Good looks on a man are great, but good game is even better.
  • If you are very good looking but a so-so conversationalist, you will want to stay away from things like book clubs, where the homelier men with sharp wits will absolutely crush you. I’ve seen it happen. Score one for the smooth talking Voltaires.
  • If you are very good looking but have no game, suit up and hit da clubs on a busy night where women can instantly compare your looks to a ton of other men. Physical presence game is all you’ll need. Try to get used to one night stands.
  • Homelier men should focus on gaming one or two girls in a night. They need more time to allow their heart light to shine. Theirs is a big stage with lots of props and a multitude of scenes to tell the story. Homelier men must be better at building connections with women, because a strong emotional connection will handily compensate for a weak physical magnetism.
  • Good looking men should maximize the number of girls they hit on in a night. They don’t need a lot of time to attract attention. Theirs is a small stage featuring a one-act play and a very large audience all vying to get his autograph after the show. By maximizing the number of targets and compressing time spent with each target into a few minutes, they maximize their chance for a same night lay.
  • If you have a sucky job and few ostentatious credentials to wave around, but your game is tight, you’ll want to hit on girls in large venues. The girls will be less likely to grill you on your educational and career background, and more likely to enjoy the spontaneous feelings you evoke in them. In other words, choice abundance means that girls are going to be too distracted to bother figuring out your life story. A confused girl is an easily gamed girl.
  • If you have a great job, money, and conventional cred, but your game is weak, you’ll want to hit on girls on slow nights in smaller venues, or day game and insta-date them. Maximize your strengths and minimize your weaknesses. A calm, focused girl is a future time oriented girl who will judge on substance more than flash. (Note: sluts excluded.)
  • Where there are a lot of men, you can create the illusion of male scarcity (and thus increase your odds of successfully gaming a girl) by walking away from girls early in a conversation. Always end conversations first, seem needlessly distracted, and make it seem like you are a man who has options, even if technically in a bar with more men than women, you don’t.
  • If you are looking for a wife or girlfriend, you may want to shift your base of operations to smaller venues or events where you will be less tempted by choice abundance to invest time gaming the flashiest chicks whose key attribute is how good to go they are.

Apropos the study, only go to speed dating events where the women rotate. You will seem in higher demand than you really are.

[crypto-donation-box]

Another scientific experiment demonstrates that beauty is not in the eye of the beholder. Or, in this case, not even in the blind eye of the beholder. Fat feminists weep bitter tears. Naomi Wolf tosses her useless credentials in the garbage. Beauty is, as I’ve been saying since day 1 on this blog, universal and objective. Men pretty much desire the same shape and weight of women around the world.

The NY0.98WHRTimes has an article about a Dutch psychologist who drove around the country in a van with two female mannequins with adjustable waist to hip ratios. (Hat tip: Cannon’s Canon.) He stopped at the residences of blind men and had them fondle the mannequins with their hands (no walking sticks allowed).

The headless mannequins, which Karremans bought, he told me recently, “on the Dutch version of Craigslist,” have adjustable waists and hips, and the researchers set each body differently, so that one had a waist-to-hip ratio of 0.7 and the other of 0.84. Based on a range of studies of male preferences done by other scientists, Karremans chose the lower ratio as an ideal, a slim yet curvy paragon, at least among Western populations. The higher ratio, by contrast, doesn’t represent obesity, just a fullness that falls close to the average woman’s shape.

The study involved men who had been sightless from birth. The idea was that the bombardment of visual media — of models on billboards and actresses on television and porn stars online — which may be so powerful and even dominant in molding desire, couldn’t have had any direct effect on these men, who emerged from the womb into a congenital dark. Would their tastes in women’s bodies match those of men who could see? How would their preferences reflect on the roles of nature and nurture, on the influence of evolution and the impact of experience, in forming our psyches?

[…] Karremans sent his mannequins around the Netherlands. The blind stood before them; they were told to touch the women, to focus their hands on the waists and hips. The breasts on both figures were the same, in case the men reached too high. The men extended their arms; they ran their hands over the region. Then they scored the attractiveness of the bodies. Karremans had a hunch, he told me, that their ratings wouldn’t match those of the sighted men he used as controls, half of them blindfolded so that they, too, would be judging by feel. It seemed likely, he said, that visual culture would play an overwhelming part in creating the outlines of lust. And though the blind had almost surely grown up hearing attractiveness described, perhaps even in terms of hourglass shapes, it was improbable, he writes in his forthcoming journal paper, that they had heard descriptions amounting to, “The more hourglass shaped, the more attractive,” which would be necessary to favor the curvier mannequin over the figure that was only somewhat less so.

[…] But, with some statistically insignificant variation, the scores of the blind matched those of the sighted. Both groups preferred the more pronounced sweep from waist to hip. One possible explanation emphasizes the sense of smell — though the mannequins wore no perfume. By this line of thinking, certain ratios of hormones and their metabolites in the female body are associated with biological advantage, as well as with particular pheromonal scents and low W.H.R.’s. The male begins life wired, through the influence of evolution, to favor these odors and then learns, mostly through unconscious experience, to connect the cues of smell to the proportions of waist and hip. He makes this connection through sight if he can see and by touch if he can’t.

The case against the “beauty is subjective and therefore perception of it by randy men is malleable; so rejoice!, hope remains that fat feminist craps and aging broads can find love just as easily as hot, slender 21 year old babes” just gets stronger with each experiment. But I’m sure the pretty lie platoon will find a way to dismiss this study. Maybe they’ll accuse men blind since birth of being influenced by patriarchal norms in Braille.

The author of the article throws the obligatory bone to the femdork crowd, but it’s a weak, brittle bone indeed:

The explanation may be more elusive than this simple logic. And the study’s implications about nature and nurture are far from straightforward. Karremans’s findings don’t rule out the sway of culture, not at all. If experience played no role in etching our preferences, there would be scarcely any diversity of lust; we would all be drawn to the same forms.

False inference. There could certainly continue to be “diversity of lust” without experience playing any role. For instance, people may be genetically primed from birth to appreciate better the beauty of others of their own race. Or there may be a hardwired preference for hair color. If the last twenty years of psychosocial research shows us anything, it’s that you’d be on firmer ground biasing hypotheses in favor of the genetic cause of behavior instead of the cultural conditioning cause.

One nuance in the study’s data points to this complexity: sighted and blind men both strongly favored the mannequin with the lower W.H.R., but this slimmer-waisted body received especially high scores from the men with sight, maybe because a life spent amid cultural signals compounds the work of evolution. Still, the gropings of Karremans’s blind offer a glimpse into the ancestral depths of our desires.

Or it could be that touching an optimal 0.7 WHR woman combined with seeing a 0.7 WHR woman produces a positive feedback loop that jacks up the “OMG I’m so horny!” limbic system reflex in men. I like banging in the dark, but when the lights are on and I can see the pussy lips parting in response to my meaty intrusion, the pleasure is magnified. If I was handed a checklist during sex, I’d score my lover higher while under the visual influence of glistening, crimson labia.

It’s really amazing when you stop to think about it that blind men who have never once in their lives seen a female body still rate as most attractive the same 0.7 WHR female body type as do normally sighted men. The inborn biological basis of sexual desire is so fundamental — so resistant to cultural influence — that every sense is brought into play in ensuring that men make the right choice for the propagation of their genes; which, in nearly all cases, is going to result in men choosing the same slender babe archetype when such a choice is possible, no matter where in the world a man lives or how many times his mom embarrassed him in front of his friends when he was a teenager. I’ve no doubt that a blind and deaf man who has lost his hands will compensate with a bloodhound’s nose for sniffing out a 0.7 WHR from twelve parsecs.

This blog post brought to you by Tick Tock, Inc., in collaboration with generous funding from the What Part Of No Fat Chicks Don’t You Understand Foundation.

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Apple iPhone 4G Leak

I’m just gonna throw this out there, reader beware. I know a person with ties to Apple who thinks the leak was probably intentional. Supposedly, it’s unheard of for a top secret prototype technology to leave campus grounds for any reason. So this person doesn’t believe the story that a programmer got drunk at a bar and accidentally left the phone there. Apple sometimes engages in low risk, cost free focus group testing by leaking a model to the geeky internet hordes — in this case Gizmodo via Gawker — to see what could use improvement. Based on the timing of this leak, I was told to expect a 4G release sometime in mid July.

Personally, I’m looking forward to the release of the HTC EVO. True 4G. True dat.

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Welmer over at The Spearhead put up a short post with accompanying video illustrating in very graphic terms (the best kind of terms) what happens when you couple the feminism-abetted cultural perception of women as vulnerable creatures with women’s opportunistic leveraging of that favorable perception, and reinforce the resulting bitches’ brew with the sledgehammer of the state. The video Welmer helpfully embedded is one of the better metaphors of the informal alliance between runaway state power and the victimization industrial complex that gives the benefit of the doubt in nearly all cases to designated aggrieved groups. What could more aptly clarify this female-PC apparatchik-state alliance than a video of cops planting evidence on a bungling loser as they hogtie him while the appreciative ex-wife oversees the proceedings nearby?

Now no doubt whenever you hear of domestic-related arrests of shady characters like Carlos Ferrel (wanted on a domestic assault warrant unrelated to the action in the video), nine times out of ten the dude is a hellraiser guilty of something. But that doesn’t give the cops the right to abuse the public’s partiality toward them by planting evidence on an unsavory suspect. It starts with a wink and a nod, (almost literally in this video, as the cop doing the planting looks like he smiles at the camera before stuffing Ferrel’s pocket with pot), and ends with a boot and a smashed face. Possibly one day yours.

Nor should our partiality toward the law influence our sympathies so that we always kneejerk align with the supposedly victimized woman. Remember, ten times out of ten in a domestic fracas, the ex-wife or ex-girlfriend chose the asshole perp to be her lover. These women know what they’re getting into. And when they no longer find their badboys useful, they’ll scream victimization, true or not. And the fuzzy-brained white knighters will stampede on cue, their sad, floppy dicks held betwixt index finger and thumb, smooshed into mini-mouthed frowns, pleading for crumbs of pussy gratitude.

You think the ex-wife, when she discovers after watching this video that her ex-husband was railroaded by the cops, will rise up of her own will in his defense? Maybe if he slapped her around a little

When the state teams up with women, it is game over for the common man. There’s only one way to win at this rigged game…

Don’t play it.

Earthdate: 04.18.2010
Sex life: euphoric
Love life: transcendent
Mood: self-satisfied
Status: still unmarried

PS Isn’t it long overdue that pot should be legal? Just make it illegal for under 21s to buy it like we do with alcohol, throw in a few government sponsored ad campaigns warning against the dangers of toking and driving, and let the adults have some fucking kick back time with a relatively harmless drug. I’ll bet any present or future drug czar good money that ten years after pot is legalized there will continue to be the same proportion of alcohol and cigarette related deaths to pot related deaths as there are today. Personally, I’d legalize crack and meth, too, then eradicate the welfare safety net and let the hardcore addicts and their drug addled spawn die mutated in the streets. In a couple of generations you’d have a healthier, stronger society. Sure, the interim would be a ghastly horror, but it’s not like you really give a shit now. Why aren’t you giving a shit now?

Rhetorical.

PPS Television and its visual communications offshoots have been the greatest anti-eugenic force in human history. Discuss.

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Greatest Pimp Slap Ever

Impressive windup: fi’ dolla

Backhand: benjamin

Not even pausing to glower at the chick after slapping her: priceless (Hey, the man was in the middle of a conversation.)

Giving me the opportunity to write “Morgan Freeman, in ‘Pimpslap Redemption’”: priceless infinity

By the way, Morgan Freeman once said in an interview that his role as a pimp in ‘Street Smart’ was his favorite.

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