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Being A Beta Is Worse Than…

…being this guy:

alphawolf


Hope’s boyfriend.

An anonymous reader sent me this photo with the following message: “gets more tail than all the herbs and betas on this site”.

What’s going on here? Clearly, Wolfman has a genetic mutation. Some things we know:

Chicks dig gnarly mutations.
Chicks especially dig gnarly mutations that confer a measure of fame upon the sufferer.
Chicks dig testosterone overload.
Man fur is a leading indicator of big balls swollen with testosterone.

What we don’t know is whether these cute girls* are banging Wolfman or if they’re just posing with him because of the novelty. *(I can’t tell if every girl pictured is the same girl. You know how it is. All look same.) Assuming this is his girlfriend(s), and that banging is going on, you have to tip your hat to the guy. He’s doing better than 70% of hirsutely normal betas whose faces girls can see.

In related news, Roosh rubbed his thick facial carpet while exclaiming “I’m not worthy!”.

I think I will start a new series called “Being A Beta Is Worse Than…”. The comparisons are limitless!

[crypto-donation-box]

The Conventional Wisdom

Many readers sent me this article from CNN.com called “18 things to teach your sons about women”. Juicy lede, eh? Because it was written by a woman attempting to give advice about men, there is much potential for unintended humor. As little as women know about their own natures, they know even less about men’s. I described in this post why this is so:

Since men are [primarily] the chosen in the mating dance, they have to be more aware of reality than do women. If men ignore reality, they risk involuntary celibacy. If a woman looks attractive (which is most of them during their prime fertile years), she can ignore reality to her heart’s content as unicorns and rainbows shower her in cellophane raindrops and still have suitors lined up around the block to fuck her.

So I’m not expecting much. The conventional wisdom has morphed into something resembling the “femifocal wisdom”, what with the mass media infiltrated by and geared toward women, with men being relegated to small outposts like “The World’s Most Dangerous Jobs: Ice Truckers”. Anytime you read an article in a putatively mainstream outlet like CNN, even a front page article, you are actually reading a woman’s warped point of view, which, truth be told, is worse than useless information — reading it will make most men’s lives more miserable.

These 18 bullet points of WHAT WOMEN WANT seem like perfect fodder for the whip-wielders at the Chateau to examine and flay to pieces.

1. Pick your battles.

Surprisingly, the author is off to a reasonable start. Alpha males (you know, the men women find most attractive) don’t sweat the small stuff. Let her win some of the insignificant arguments that don’t matter to you. Of course, you’ll put up a false front that the issue is extremely important to your manly sense of pride, so that when you finally cave she will be awash with gratitude and blowjobs love.

2. Walk on the outside (closer to the street) of your female companion.

Meh. Standard alpha procedure. The author intuitively understands (under the rubric of chivalry) that not all male body language is created equal. Some positions are more dominant than others. 2 for 2.

3. Saying “You’re being crazy” is never an appropriate response, unless you want her to go postal on you.

No doubt the author has been called crazy by a man she dated. I haven’t had too many women go postal on me because I correctly noted their crazy-assedness. If the bitch is crazy, it’s one of many appropriate responses. 2 for 3.

4. Cooking, cleaning, and taking care of kids are things men can actually do as well as women.

Is she trying to teach her future son the fine art of living like a eunuch? While this is technically true for cooking and cleaning, (the evidence suggests men are not as psychologically equipped as women for the task of raising small children), in practice men don’t do these things as well as women because they have less interest in doing them. Women need to grasp that their demands for cleaner homes are *their* oddball proclivities; most men are perfectly content letting dust accumulate, books remain unshelved, and toddlers eat their poop. 2 for 4 for teaching your son to be more like a woman. All the furious fembot shrieking to the contrary, chicks don’t dig kitchen bitches, lady.

5. Keep backup supplies of quality chocolate in the house for her to raid.

For what? To fatten her up? 2 for 5.

6. Buying tampons and other feminine products shouldn’t embarrass you –everyone knows they’re not for you.

I actually once had a girlfriend leave me because I wouldn’t go into CVS to buy her tampons. That wasn’t the sole reason for the breakup, of course, but it was one straw too many on the camel’s back. If she’s with you, she buys the feminine products, and you buy the masculine products. This is the way of the universe. To do otherwise is the way of the eunuchracy. 2 for 6.

7. Women like compliments and gifts.

Correction: Women like compliments and gifts in small doses and when least expected. A man must make his woman earn her specialness. I’ll give her this one out of mercy. 3 for 7.

8. Earning less than her shouldn’t be emasculating.

Put “shouldn’t” in one hand and “but it will” in the other, and see which one fills up first. Exception: If you are a man with game or other positive male attractiveness attributes, you can afford to handicap yourself in relative relationship earning power (RREP). 3 for 8.

9. Be on time, even if she usually isn’t.

Massive correction: Never be on time during the courtship phase, and occasionally be late while in a relationship, even if she usually *is* on time. 3 for 9.

10. Don’t be a pouty puppy when shopping with her.

How about “Don’t be a pouty puppy… ever”? Blatantly obvious. If you hate shopping, smack her ass and tell her to have fun, you’re going golfing. Women tingle ginarrifically for men with limits. 4 for 10.

11. Find out what her favorite flower is.

This is a good one, and true. I have had success recalling my girl’s favorite flower and giving it to her at a later date. It’s a small token of affection that will cost you almost nothing. 5 for 11.

12. If you like her, then don’t buy her shoes; it’s bad luck.

Never heard this before, but I’d say it’s a bad move to buy her shoes regardless of the karmic retribution. Do you really want to positively reward the blossoming of her latent princess? 6 for 12.

13. Smiling and nodding aren’t the same as listening.

But they’re close enough for government work. However, most men should do a better job of listening, if for no other reason than that it helps them get out of their heads and into the moment. 7 for 13.

14. It’s OK to cry in front of her, but keep the blubbering to a minimum.

No, it’s not, unless he knows how to emote like an alpha. 7 for 14.

15. Personality goes a long way.

True, but trite. The author is really putting herself out there! 8 for 15.

16. At some point she’ll be more important than your mother.

I hear this lament from women in the media constantly, but in reality how many men remain stuck at the teat of their mothers? Most men I know hardly ever talk about their moms. Maybe this a racial thing, or a *cough* Jewish thing, but my experience is that the momma’s boy complaint is overblown. 9 for 16 for being so brave to tell a hackneyed truth.

17. You will never completely understand women.

Keep telling yourself that, toots. The lid is blown off this joint. 9 for 17.

18. Oh yeah, and no woman will ever be good enough for my baby!

What if she’s pre-Seal Heidi Klum? 9 for 18.

***

The author, a representess of the gina-soaked conventional wisdom, didn’t do too badly. 50%. With some more study into the true nature of men and women she could bump up to an F+, thereby giving her hypothetical son a chance to avoid getting LJBF’ed for the entirety of his teens and 20s. But if we were grading on a curve, she would earn a zero, because half of her points are so vaguely prosaic that it would be impossible to find fault with them, and the half that have some meat on the bone are horrendously ignorant of reality.

Now if it were me giving advice to my hypothetical son, I’d steer him down the path of illumination.

[crypto-donation-box]

I was sitting on a bench in a compact, refurbished dog park that had been covered in a fake grass like Astroturf — call it Turdturf — upon which 15 or 20 dogs were frolicking and licking each others’ balls while their owners talked amongst themselves and tried to avoid stepping on the smaller dogs. After spending some time wondering where the dog piss drains in the fake grass, I poked my companion.

“Check out that guy over there. The guy with the boxer. His dog is totally owning him.”

In the middle of the park a khaki-wearing herb was being ritually humiliated by his burly boxer. The dog ignored him, disobeyed him, and generally made a nuisance of itself careening into other dogs and people and sniffing a multitude of crotches with tremendous gusto. The herb feebly tried to corral his dog, begging and pleading with it to behave, and the dog… well, I’m almost positive the dog laughed at him, if dogs can do such a thing. The dog had a look that said “Yeah, this tool gives me free food. What a chump!” It was a demonstration of pure mockery, dog owning owner.

2730

The whole scene reaffirmed a belief I have that properly owning a dog is excellent training for properly owning a woman. The behavior of dogs and women is eerily similar, and their relation to man testifies to that.

Like dogs, women need to be led. They *want* to be led. In fact, though they will never admit it, women want to be owned by their men. (I loved that he was so powerful I was nothing. – O on her lover)

Like dogs, women will walk all over you if you let them.

Like dogs, women will test you for your alpha status the moment you show weakness. There’s nothing dogs and women loathe more than being adrift in a non-hierarchical relationship. They both need to slip comfortably behind you in an established pecking order. It is there they find deep, true happiness and contentment.

Like dogs, women need to be trained. Shit tests are essentially a woman telling you “Please train me to respect you.” Oblige her.

Like dogs, women respond best to strong verbal and nonverbal commands. If you stare down a dog, it will always turn away first, if it recognizes your authority. Women will do the same.

Like dogs, women will eventually take to the leash, metaphorical or literal.

Like dogs, women want to be told to roll over.

Like dogs, women will hump anything if you allow them.

Dog training is alpha training; keeping a dog in line and assuming the role of pack leader will redound to other areas of your life. The skills and mindset required to rule the dog pack are not much different than the game required to rule a woman. You will soon learn what it means to have a commanding presence when you are the owner of a naturally unruly dog.

I have no doubt that the herb with the disobedient boxer is a doormat in his relationship, if he is in one. I’m sure that, like his boxer shits on the carpet, his girlfriend shits on his soul. If you are a beta, my advice is to save the $5,000 you would spend on a seduction workshop and instead pick up a dog at your local shelter. Since you will not be sexually attracted to the dog, you will find it very easy to work on your alpha leadership skills with it. Then what you learn with the dog will carry over into your dealings with women.

PS: Has the Afghan hound always been the dog of choice of the upper class? I can see why. The dog looks snobby, and it never sniffs the ground. Afghans keep their heads up when walking. It might as well be called the Alpha hound.

[crypto-donation-box]

Alpha Male Cage Match

The winner of the first alpha male cage match was Silvio Berlusconi, by a whopping margin. 72 years old and still chasing skirt without apology.

On to match #2.

yogagame

VS.

[crypto-donation-box]

August 2009 Beta Of The Month

The crack team of Chateau Beta of the Month researchers took a couple weeks off, so the August 2009 BOTM is tardy. Or fashionably late, if you prefer the reframe.

The winner of the July 2009 BOTM, by a wide margin, was Travis D’arby, the SWPL self-parody who can’t figure out why his wife has so many male Facebook friends, and why she won’t accept his friend invitation. She also has the gall to tell him, when he confronts her with the evidence, to keep his beta nose out of her business. They of course talk it out over dinner like the sophisticated urbane couple they are and come to some sort of closure involving “love and understanding” which, in chick language, translates as “the wife continues fucking around on her pathetic husband while he respects her privacy to fuck around on him.”

Congratulations, Travis, your balls have now been shipped to the nearest Ripley’s Believe It Or Not museum for display. Electron microscope required for viewing. And you can stop bobbing your head in the car to “It’s Raining Men”.

August 2009 BOTM Candidate #1 was submitted by reader Billy Blaze and tells the story of a high society blueblood who proves that wealth and social status aren’t enough to shield a man from collapsing into a beta black hole of his own making.

Topper was in Florida for the wedding of one of his longtime moneyed bros. Tinsley, the little trollop, was supposed to join him later at the rehearsal dinner and bring shoes for him to wear. That’s where the trouble started.

In case it isn’t clear, Topper is the man, Tinsley is his wife. You’ve gotta love the faggy and princessy names the upper class gives to their kids. Just as mockable as ghetto and hillbilly names.

Anyhow, Tinsley texted Topper (sounds like the name of a chick flic) to inform him she couldn’t make it to the rehearsal dinner. That’s because Tinsley was busy getting banged out by a European aristotrash.

Tinsley had run off to get boned by a German aristocrat/prince named Casimir Wittgenstein-Sayn, news Topper shared with some of the couple’s friends.

Topper e-mailed his friends to explain: “I know I have involved you guys in our problems and that was wrong. Tinsley is at fault of course but Casi [sic] never gave her a chance to breathe even when I asked him to give us space. He was manipulative and overbearing. I love my wife and we are going to do what we can to salvage this marriage.”

Did you get that? Topper discovers his wife’s infidelity and the guy she’s doing it with, and responds in a most manly fashion by kindly asking the good European gentleman to refrain for a time from drilling Tinsley so that he can work on his marriage, i.e. beg her to come back and give him a reason to go on living.

Topper’s plans for the future include, you guessed it, rushing to forgive his cheap whore of a wife and living out his lonely days in a self-imposed torment of soulripping introspection.

He’s become a full-time smoker. He’s lost weight. He wakes up at precisely 3:25 every morning and plays over and over the reality show his life became. Still, he hasn’t entirely abandoned the idea that she’ll come back. “I love my wife” is all he’ll tell me.

Topper, old sport, you’ve got money, status and youth. Admit that your wife is a filthy whore, stop thinking about her, go to Scores and get yourself a hot stripper for some fun. Whatever you do, don’t cry about your wife to her. Cause she ain’t coming back, although if she catches news of you boffing a stripper she might consider it.

******

August 2009 BOTM Candidate #2 was submitted by Willard Libby. It’s an article about a supremely emasculated man’s wife who started a blog not five months into their marriage to chronicle her husband’s annoying habits. Or, in words this blog’s readers could better appreciate, to utterly humiliate him in public. You can see her blog here.

For his part, [Tiffanie] Wong’s husband, WPIX-TV reporter Mark Joyella, sees the humor in his wife’s blog and has no problem with the outside world knowing of his foibles.

“To me, it’s kind of a tribute to all husbands,” said Joyella, 43, who works for the weekend show “Toni On! New York.”

“I’m sure all husbands have their own quirks.”

Some of Joyella’s most annoying habits, according to his wife’s blog, include his love of fart jokes, the fact he wears the same zip-up green sweater in every family photograph and his inability to figure out the TV remote.

“I’ll ask him to record a show for me and it ends up being Univision or something,” Wong said.

“Have you seen that remote?” Joyella countered. “It has like 50 buttons on it.”

Wong (notice she didn’t take his name) says she loves her husband, but how much longer can she go on feeling love for a man she castrates every day in front of an anonymous public audience cheering on her every revelation? Mark Joyella, for his part, seems like a happy-go-lucky goofball who’s masochistically enjoying the infamy, but he should be careful; aloofness will only buy him so much time. Eventually, a wife who doesn’t respect you enough to keep your dirty laundry private will begin loathing your betaness. Her gina tingles will roam in search of stronger cock antennae.

******

August 2009 BOTM Candidate #3 was submitted by reader West Coast Life. It’s about Sheryl Weinstein, the married woman who had a yearlong affair with Ponzi King Bernie Madoff sixteen years ago. She has just written an opportunistic book about her time as Madoff’s mistress, and in the interview linked to she describes how her husband reacted to her book.

How have your husband and son reacted to the book?
Well, my husband read most of the book. My son hasn’t read it, but he has been very loving and very, very supportive. My husband has also been supportive. It’s something that happened 16 years ago. [My marriage] was a 21-year relationship; the affair lasted about a year or a year and a half. [So] it wasn’t like, “Surprise, I’ve been having an affair for 20 years.” It was more like, “Surprise, I had an affair 15 or 16 years ago.” We’ve really worked hard on our marriage since then, and things have come around, but this really terrible thing happened to us.

Note the sleight of sophistry this cunt is attempting. Her son could despise her, but I’m sure she’s sufficiently self-deluded to believe he’s “very loving and very, very supportive”. And her husband is supportive? Either he’s prudently and cynically encouraging the success of his cheating wife’s book to restock the family’s lost finances, or he’s a beta so thoroughly beaten down in spirit that his testicularly shriveled reflex is to forgive and “support” the wrinkled, over-makeupped skank married to him. Either way, he comes off like a pathetic choad, assuming his wife isn’t lying.

That’s a big assumption. Let’s discuss that word “support”. Has any word in the English language been more misused and abused by women? It’s the go-to word whenever guilt pokes its ugly head into the hollowed crevice carved in the rotten soul of a cheating whore. The word sickens me. Almost always when you hear it spoken by someone you can be assured you are getting sprayed on by the chunky vomit of a pity pimp, an energy vampire, or a blame-shifting slut. The next time you hear someone use the word, call them out on it.

“What exactly do you mean by “support”? No one’s calling you out on your bullshit?”

And then you’ve gotta appreciate the shameless refusal to accept accountability shown by the whore:

We’ve really worked hard on our marriage since then, and things have come around, but this really terrible thing happened to us.

“You see, honey, that whole unpleasantness of Madoff’s dick in my pussy was a terrible thing that happened to us. Just some nebulous cosmic force that alighted upon our happy family for which I bear no responsiblity, and for which you are likely equally responsible anyhow. So let’s try and work through it, and with enough hard work on your part in marriage counseling I might see my way to forgiving you.”

Choice cut cunt, here, folks. Brazenly cunty. The dark side of the cunt.

Why did Weinstein write the book?

This must have been a very painful book for you to write. Why did you decide to do it?
The first part was that the investment decisions in my family were my responsibility, so I felt this tremendous guilt and responsibility about what had happened. My motivation was to try to make things better as much as I can, and that sort of meant putting myself out there.

Cha-ching! Is anyone buying her shit? Her husband? When your wife cheats, you kick her out. End of story. Any other course of action that doesn’t involve wicked vengeance will brand you with the badge of the beta for the rest of your life. Now if only the divorce laws would catch up to this eminently fair and just outlook.

******

The voting:

PS: Although it was a popular submission, I didn’t include the guy forced to stand on a DC Metro street corner by his wife and wear a placard confessing his infidelity because it was later revealed to be a local radio station prank.

[crypto-donation-box]

How Much Can Game Do?

Many detractors and doubters of the crimson arts, including but not limited to a rather peculiar yet endearingly patriotic and bracingly truthful subculture of HBD quant geeks, have tried to find and exploit fissures in the foundation of the Chateau by accusing yours in Christ of inflating the good that can be gained from game. They claim I overlook some very basic HBD (human biodiversity)-approved limitations imposed on men by immutable biological factors outside the reach of self-improvement efforts.

Oh, really?

What do they think I’m running here? An archipelago of pretty lies? It’s time to set the record straight about what exactly game can accomplish for the man who wants more choice in women. And what better way to do so than through the use of a handy chart?

If you are:                      then tight game will bring you this:
an omega dreg              an improvement from involuntary lifelong celibacy
to a couple bangs per year with 2s and under.

a lesser beta                a few bangs per year with non-obese 4s and 5s and
the freedom to delay marriage to a tubby plain jane
for a couple of years while still fruitfully playing the field.

a garden variety          an end to month-long dry spells, the exquisite pleasure
provider beta               of occasional sex with a girl above the threshold of
genuine attractiveness (7), and a fiscal windfall from
having gained the ability to bed women without
spending godawful sums of money on them.

a greater beta              double digit lifetime partners, one “8” girlfriend at least
ten years younger, and an ability to consistently get sex
by the third date and blowjobs on the regular. bonus:
you can reject cougars with impunity.

a lesser alpha              triple digit lifetime partners, one “9” short-term girlfriend,
one threesome, and one multiple concurrent relationship
with a 7 and an 8.

a natural alpha            300 lifetime partners (should you choose to accept this
mission), multiple threesomes and orgies, long term
unmarried loving relationships with 8s and above,
and the freedom to hit (deserving) women
without worrying they will leave you or call the police.

a super alpha               the world is your harem.

******

The dreg to super alpha continuum represents categories of men whose corresponding dating market value traits have been averaged for each group. For instance, a lesser beta could be a very short man with a middling income and dull personality, or a normal height unemployed man with no money and decent looks who has crippling approach anxiety and horrible fashion sense. Similarly, a lesser alpha could represent a tall man with good looks and above average income, but possessing some geeky personality quirk holding him back from reaching his full potential with women. An omega is a man whose product is unwanted by any buyer. Unlike the economic market, the sexual market is a zero sum game, so some unfortunate souls at the far left of the bell curve will be unable to find a buyer of their product. In fact, omegas will have to pay for the privilege of dumping their wretched products on the market.

As I’ve written before, what men like in women is simple. In descending order of importance, here are the female attractiveness traits that men desire in women:

Beauty.
Femininity.
Sexual eagerness.

In descending order of importance, here are the male attractiveness traits that women desire in men:

Psychosocial dominance (game).
High status/fame.
Personality (passion/charisma/humor).
Wealth.
Good looks/height/muscularity.
Cleverness/smarts.
Dependability/reliability.
Sexual prowess.

A man along the alpha-beta-omega axis will exhibit the above traits in varying degrees of magnitude. The more of each attractiveness trait a man possesses, especially of those traits at the top of the pyramid that most attract women, the greater in intensity, amount, and quality of female attention he will fetch. A super alpha is a man who has maxed out in each category of attractiveness. An omega is a man who possesses little to none of these traits. A typical beta provider is likely a man who is low in the top four traits, average in looks and smarts, high in dependability, and low in sexual prowess.

Using girlish and pretentiously wonky Will Wilkinson as an example, he would score thusly:

Psychosocial dominance: Not enough information. He could very well be an alpha in his dealings with girlfriends.
High status/fame: High. He has fame within his tardlike liberdroid circle of equalist boilerplaters. Every male endeavor (except video gaming) has female groupies.
Personality: Average. He loses points for feminine demeanor and unmanly vocal skills, but gains points for passion.
Wealth: Assuming his income status is solidly SWPL, he’d be at the high end of this category.
Looks: Average. Feeble muscularity counterbalanced by boy band/art fag face.
Cleverness: High. He should thank his libertarian god for blessing him with a high (but uselessly applied) IQ.
Dependability: Not enough information. But he has the face of a sneaky fucker, and he’s still unmarried in his 30s (which I approve of), so I’m going with low.
Sexual prowess: Not enough information (thank god). Could be a limp noodle, could be a tantric dynamo.

If very low = 1, low = 3, average = 5, high = 7, very high = 9, and godlike = 10, and weighting toward the top four character traits, we can calculate a rough sexual market value score for Will Wilkinson:

7.1

Will Wilkinson is a greater beta.

Attracts girls in the 6-8 range, doesn’t need to turn off lights to enjoy sex, once got a BJ in an alley, his half-Asian girlfriend will cry if he proposes to her, has accumulated 5-15 partners (plus one very pretty boy).

If Wilkinson scores high on psychosocial dominance and sexual prowess, he would bump up to a lesser alpha. Rarefied company indeed, Will! As it stands, his ineffectual bloviating about relationship exactness and complementarity to the contrary notwithstanding, Will perfectly obeyed the biomechanical law of the sexual market and cashed in his market value chips for a cute, slender chick who ranks about a 7.5 on the female dating market value scale (10 being Monica Bellucci in her prime).

Of course, Wilkinson, like most purveyors of palatable lies, does not believe in game, or even in the primacy of the sexual market (his type are liable to sneer “reductionist!” whenever confronted with the reality of humanity’s base animal nature and their enslavement to it). Why, if only the entire left hand side of the male curve would just get a grad degree and an enlightened attitude toward women, they too could enjoy the fruits of cute half-Asian girls!

The great majority of men are not genetically capable of getting grad school degrees, but they are capable of learning some rudimentary game. Concepts like negs, social proof, qualfication, compliance, and body language. And in the winner-take-all seduction sweepstakes, all else equal, an uneducated man wielding tight game will beat a game-eschewing educated man waving a diploma 99 times out of 100. Bet on it.

Again, using the example of Will Wilkinson I outlined above, we can roughly deduce what a man of his market value — greater beta — can accomplish with knowledge of game and assiduous application of it in the field. If Will is willing to shed his preconceptions and start reading up on all the free seduction material now available on the internet, plus find himself a mentor who could correct him when he fucks up in set, he could enjoy a lifestyle that includes dating and fucking girls even younger and cuter than his current girlfriend, and put off marriage indefinitely for the same benefits found within long term loving relationships with girls who, because they are so enamored of him, won’t pressure him for an expensive princess wedding.

Game is not a skeleton key that will open every locked pussy. It, like most human improvement projects, has its limitations; a 5′ 2″ ugly, dull, 60 year old factory line worker living in a rancid basement hovel is not going to go from celibacy to boffing supermodels no matter how advanced his game. But game’s limitations are much farther out than most men realize. That ugly, short, boring old guy won’t bang supermodels with game, but he will discover a world of fuckathon fun among 45 year old divorcees of mediocre attractiveness.

As game, or in weightier parlance, psychosocial dominance, sits at the pinnacle of male character traits that women find attractive, a man will get more bang for his social investment buck by learning game than he would by working hard at improving himself on more conventional metrics such as career advancement, wealth generation, educational attainment, or material acquisition. He should do all those things to the best of his ability, of course, but if he could only choose one path to pussy, I would counsel him to learn the science of seduction. A grad school degree requires an additional 6-7 years of commitment after high school plus crushing debt; career advancement requires years of kissing ass and working late; wealth generation requires a lifetime of prudent financial management; material acquisitions require hard-earned money and their effectiveness at attracting and keeping pussy is questionable.

But game, the beautiful drama, needs only six months to one year of study and practical application before a man will reap the rewards of tingly ginas. When you are running game, you are saying powerful things, you are behaving powerfully. And when you behave powerfully, you really are powerful. Game is power. And it all rests on one very simple, very true, premise:

Women are mostly the same in what they find attractive in men.

And the male trait they love the most? Dominance.

Weep unfathomable tears of bitterness, equalist shits. Weep ‘em good.

[crypto-donation-box]

More evidence that thin has always been in. (Hat tip: Reader SB7.) The fourth century Romans of the Villa Romana del Casale and the surrounding town of Platia created mosaics of slender babes well within the optimal 17 – 23 BMI range frolicking in bikinis while playing outdoor games and generally looking cute.

romanlovelies

Not a BBW or chubster in sight!

I feel the spirit of Dr. Seuss move me.

Do you like
chicks shaped like ham?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
I do not like
chicks shaped like ham.

Would you like them
now or then?

I would not like them
now or then.
I would not like them ever again.

I do not like
chicks shaped like ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

Would you like them in your bed?
Would you like them giving head?

I do not like them
in my bed.
I do not like them
giving head.
I do not like them
now or then.
I do not like them
ever again.
I do not like
chicks shaped like ham.
I do not like them,
Sam-I-am.

Would you eat them
in their box?
Would you poke them
with your cox?

Not in their box.
Not with my cox.
Not in my bed.
Not giving head.
I would not poke them
here or there.
I would not poke them anywhere.
I would not poke chicks made of ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

I’ll be in all zee veek!

[crypto-donation-box]

Pompeii_wall_painting

Peacocking head accessory? Check.
Overindulgent Roman guido (the original!) necklace? Check.
Cheeseball earrings? Check.
Hours in the gymnasium building neck muscles? Check.
Tunic unbuttoned down to navel to display sprouts of chest hair? Check.
Thousand yard stare of stupidity? Check.
Deep Mediterranean orange tan? Check.
Chick is a slut? Check.

Historical accuracy confirmed. The world’s first hot chick with douchebag!

(Link and association provided by commenters Lucifer and Ruby. Great JOOOORB guys.)

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The Myth Of The Medieval BBW

Ugly women, feminists, and fat chicks hate that men have attractiveness standards. It’s been as long as I can remember that mustachioed lezbo academics and their impressionable vajlings have been claiming that prehistoric drawings and figurines supposedly depicting fatass broads prove that female beauty standards are malleable and culturally conditioned. Riiiight. My first post-puberty boner at age fourteen for the cute, slender brunette down the street wouldn’t have happened without messages from TV telling me thin chicks are in.

Now it turns out all those ancestral BBW figurines that so enamor the sort of feminists who loathe male desire may not have been sex objects or symbolic mother/goddess figures at all. (Link via Dienekes.)

Made by Neolithic farmers thousands of years before the creation of the pyramids or Stonehenge, they depict tiny cattle, crude sheep and flabby people.

In the 1960s, some researchers claimed the more rotund figures were of a mysterious large breasted and big bellied “mother goddess”, prompting a feminist tourism industry that thrives today.

But modern day experts disagree.

They say the “mother goddess” figures – which were buried among the rubbish of the Stone Age town – are unlikely to be have been religious icons.

Many of the figures thought to have been women [by researchers] in the 1960s, are just as likely to be men.

Somewhere among my readership a fat chick just wept big bloated tears of ice cream.

Even more disheartening for the cultural conditioning crowd and BBW goddess true believers, there is evidence that prehistoric men carved plenty of sexy, slender babes for their viewing pleasure. And in mini-skirts, to boot! Yes, Cosmo B.C. must have been warping teenage minds 7,500 years ago.

“What about Rubens?!” squeal the fatties. Well, many of Rubens’ late medieval European contemporaries, such as Botticelli and Cranach, painted slender babes. And Rubens himself deviated from his fat fetish to paint normal weight women. Furthermore, it is likely that Rubens was not painting masturbation material for the masses. If he was, he probably would have ended up like Francisco de Goya, who *did* paint erotically posed slender women.

Goya was summoned by the Spanish Inquisition to explain who commissioned the “obscene” art.  I don’t know what Goya told them but he lost his job as the Spanish court painter, and this was as late as the early 19th century, though in southern Europe.  Goya’s nude maja comes close to modern erotic pinup art/photography and is the type of art that is most likely to represent the artist’s preferences or those of his contemporaries, but it doesn’t depict an overweight woman.  What were the chances of a painter coming up with something similar when the Church ruled?

If your paintings would have caused hard-ons to spring up among the drooling public, the Church would have had a word with you.

Bottom line: There is no evidence that Rubens’ paintings of unpleasantly plump women were representative of the kind of women that most men of his time considered hot. Except for a few weird outliers like the Mauritanians and fatty fuckers like Rubens, and allowing for some minor variation in female attractiveness standards between the major races, the vast majority of men across cultures and historical generations have lusted for thin young women (BMI 17 – 23) with 0.7 waist-hip ratios and feminine dispositions. No amount of railing against the “system” or engaging in sophistic pseudoacademic hocus-pocus is gonna change this fact.

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Megan Fox, by all accounts, is one of the bitchiest cunts in Hollywood. In interviews, she usually disorients the male host or the male guests seated around her. Because she is a genuine 9.5 at the peak of her beauty (23 years old), no man seems capable of properly gaming her, not even popularity-cresting celebrities like Seth Rogen (watch at 4:00). Fox admits as much in this article. She’s a killer queen, dynamite with a laser beam.

If ever there was a chick who could provide a world class challenge to a master seducer, Megan Fox is the one. So I was surprised to see that the man who stepped to the plate is a schlumpy herb-like character who moonlights as a stand-up comedian. He interviews Fox and her disappearing male co-star in this video (thanks to reader A for sending the link):

At 0:24, the herb negs her: “I’m sorry, just one second”. He even matches his neg with alpha body language when he sticks his hand out, palm down, a gesticulation that communicates he is silencing a small child. Immediately, you can see in her face that Fox is rattled, in a good way, her blank expression replaced by a shocked open-mouthed smile. She’s knocked off-kilter, probably because she’s not used to getting negged, let alone negged from a no-name herb.

At 0:37, she attempts to regain her tankgrrl composure. Except she goes so far over the top trying to look tough, what with her head cock, knitted eyebrows, and super serious glower, that her cover is blown. She’s been reduced to ridiculousness.

At 1:50, neg number two. The herb says her male co-star is distracted by her sitting next to him (this is a subtle tooling of the co-star) so it would be best if she put a bag over her head. Now, it’s clear he’s being funny, but how many female movie stars would agree to put a bag over their heads? Fox is game, because the interviewer set the frame early on and softened her up when he punched through her studied, chilly ice queen exterior with the first neg at 0:24. She’s warmed up to him so she’s more amenable to his suggestions. She puts the bag over her head and keeps it there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Fox that playful in an interview before. This is a hot babe who NEEDS — who is BEGGING — for a man to game the living shit out of her.

This video reminds me of Neil Strauss’ anecdote in the book “The Game” where he’s interviewing Britney Spears and getting nowhere until he decides to run game on her. Game opens up Britney — metaphorically if not literally — to revealing more of herself and asking for Strauss’ phone number at the end of the interview.

I believe this video is evidence of the awesome power of the neg over high quality women. A herb negged Megan Fox, arguably the hottest chick in Hollywood today, and her eyes blazed with attraction. Naturally, the doubting betas will counter: “But there’s no way he’s banging her.” They miss the point. If a herb can get a positive reaction from a woman in the top 0.01% of attractiveness and social power with a simple throwaway neg, then the average everyday beta who applies the same game principles can pursue and FUCK girls who are a point higher than the women to which he is accustomed. A beta improving from dating 5s to dating 6s might not seem like a huge change on paper, but in reality it is a radical alteration of lifestyle. Given that it is women who “date up” — a fact contingent upon the greater relative expense of eggs compared to sperm — a man who, in effect, flips the selection script and “dates up” with the help of game, even if he only dates up one beauty point from 5 to 6, will experience exponential happiness that attests to the tremendous psychosexual rewards a minor jump up the female market value scale brings a man.

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