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Collateral baggage:

A mother told an inquest she did not know she had given birth until flushing her baby down a toilet by accident.

Claire Jones, 32, became pregnant after an affair with a work colleague but hid her condition from friends and family.

Here are photos of the whore, her cuckolded beta hubby, and her alpha lover:

Guess which man above is the alpha interloper and who is the tooled beta. Explain your reasoning. Points given for incisive analysis.

She said she planned to leave [her beta provider], and her work colleague [alpha lover], who was aware of the pregnancy, bought items for the baby in preparation for his birth.

When asked why she did not leave [her beta provider] before the baby was due, she replied: “Things had got in such a mess with the two relationships. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I just messed everything up.”

When dispensing the cruel but necessary judgement of public shaming, it’s important to understand that women follow their animal instincts, and thus a utilitarian justification for shaming carries as much weight as the umbrage of moral righteousness. Many whores subconsciously assess the risk of discovery worth the upsides — she gets the best of both worlds in a duped beta hubby continuing to support her while acquiescing impotently to her withdrawal of sex, and the seed of an alpha male who chips in some resources of his own to help raise his bastard child.

Before the picture of the whore was released, commenters to the original story were incredulous that a woman could not know she was pregnant. This led to some hilarious speculation:

I bet she’s a porker. Otherwise, it’s hard to believe you could give birth and just think you were having a wet BM. Does anyone have a 7-8 pound BM? Disgusting.

I don’t believe that a woman can’t tell what is coming out of where. Cause they sure as heck know what is going in and where.

Must have been a low flow. A good toilet wouldn’t have left any pesky feet!

british society = flushed headfirst down a toilet.

Shout out to fire and brimstone reader Shouting Thomas: I’m glad the baby died. Both the whore and her lover have been denied a genetic legacy, and the beta husband has avoided a fate that is the equivalent of female rape — unknowingly raising another man’s child.

[crypto-donation-box]

How To Screw Up A Date

I’ve received inside info about a second date gone bad from a female party who shall remain anonymous. I post it here to illustrate for the men reading what *not* to do on a date. I found the scenario described by Anonymous Girl a textbook example of the egregious dating fouls committed by the typical beta.

******

Had my second date last night. we had a lovely dinner, good conversation, albeit he seemed a bit manic to get his points across.

I can’t believe in this day and age there are still guys who take girls out on dinner dates. Please. Dinner is what your girlfriend cooks you. If you’re stuffing food in your mouth, you’re not charming her with your words or tonguing her down. Dinner dates = contrived ambience = uncomfortable pressure = killing the sexy vibe. And speaking with urgency is a major beta giveaway. Betas seeking approval always try to cram as many of their thoughts into a conversation as possible, hoping that one of the conversational threads and/or embarrassing personal vignettes will impress the girl and lead to intimacy. Frantic speed talking = beta. Slow laconic conversation where every word has the weight of an advancing glacier = alpha.

as the night wore on, i had trouble taking him seriously. he has 3 [dorky types of clothing] he writes about on fbook, he joked they were bigger than obama. he wore one last night. i know it’s a joke, but he is vain.

pretty quickly, his [occupational] addiction/cliquey [occupation] thing began grating on my nerves. he insisted on making a phone call outside the restaurant, he believes it’s a cardinal sin to do it in the restaurant. he had thoughtfully made reservations at another restaurant in case this one was full but then made a point of telling me how appreciative the other place was when he cancelled the reservation. ??

I’ve included this bit to show you how many hoops a girl expects a man to jump through, without his knowing ahead of time just what those hoops entail. This is an elaborate stained-glass window into the mental 463 bullet point checklist that girls carry with them every time they meet a potential suitor. As men, we hardly comprehend this need of women to judge every insignificant and irrelevant detail, and thinking too hard about this will cause great internal confusion and manifest as a terrible neediness to “win her over” on dates.

While the actions of the guy above aren’t the stuff of 100% coolness, viewed in the proper perspective he didn’t do anything that would warrant expulsion from the society of normal human beings. This makes a lot of guys resentful of women and their fickle standards. Forget about it. The good news: If you run tight game, you don’t have to worry about meeting her bullet points. She’ll excuse away minor idiosyncracies as long as you are turning her on.

when the charcuterie plate arrived heaped with blood sausage and other alien delicacies like broccoli/cauliflower hybrids he whispered, ‘and so it begins’ in my ear and kissed my hair, nauseating.

And then there are the non-minor idiosyncracies. I can’t believe a guy can make it through decades of life and not know this would creep out a woman. Leaning in after the blood sausage arrives and whispering “and so it begins” in her ear while kissing her hair is not sexy, though I bet he concocted this putatively James Bond-esque scenario in his head in a thrill of devilish gusto and was eager to try it out in real life.

Timing: Lesser Beta.
Execution: Greater Omega.
Intent: Greater Beta.

I do give him points for boldness, however maladroit.

last night he took his glasses off and was sort of slouching in the booth – i think he was trying to cue me to do something.

Funny. A lot of guys think slouching is sexy, that it highlights the aloofness girls love so much. More often than not, slouching shows a guy who can’t sit up straight. If you’ve already established your alpha cred, you can slouch and seem coolly unperturbed. If you’re in betaland, your slouching will look like the posture of a broken, dispirited man. If he was attempting to nonverbally signal readiness for a BJ, slouching is a half-assed way to go about it. I recommend approaching naked, fully erect, a few inches from her face until she goes cross-eyed. Preferably in a crowded restaurant.

i put my fur on and said i had to go home, work tomorrow. by now there was something vaguely passive aggressive in the air that really spurred me on to think of myself. i payed for half the meal. now i wonder: if i had been more physical, would he have payed for the entirety?

When betas feel sexually thwarted it comes out as passive aggressive weakness. An alpha knows to keep a cool head and refrain from letting his frustration bubble to the surface, where it can poison any future possibility of his date setting him up with one of her hottie friends.

It’s interesting to note that girls make the connection between money and physical escalation. Lesson: Flip the script. If you pay for a girl’s drinks, don’t push her for the kiss. And vice versa: If she gets physical with you, don’t start paying for her drinks as reward. Conspicuous enticement is anhedonic.

when we got outside he said, ‘do you mind?’ standing like four feet away from me. i’m like, ‘do you mind what?’ he kissed me, big warm kiss. it was all of 2 seconds. he lept back and complained that it was like a ’17th century kiss’ – and on and on about how bad it was. i gave him a pity hug and hailed a cab with the other arm. he murmured something about liking my fur. it actually really hurt my feelings. his civility ended in the restaurant and then he pulled the claws out. way too much insecurity for a second date.

“it actually really hurt my feelings.” Negs work!

It just goes to show how even ostensibly smart guys can have zero concept of game.  “Do you mind?”?!?  Oh no that won’t do.  Major DLV.  *IF* a man is going to ask for a kiss, the term of art is “would you like to kiss me”, a la Mystery style.  Then you have your followup answers ready: If she says “yes”, go for it.  “Maybe”, say “Let’s find out” and go for it.  “No”, say “Well, I didn’t say you COULD. You just had that look on your face.”

But the kiss question is moot. It’s best to simply lean in when the moment is right and bust a move. No words exchanged.

As if the hole wasn’t deep enough, the guy emailed her the next morning to fully display for public humiliation and my wicked amusement whatever shreds of betatude he neglected to air out during the date.

Him: That had to be the worst kiss ever.  I give it my lowest rating; one star, plus a thumbs down. Still, for the sake of my ego (which is not too enthusiastic about sexual rejection), the chaste kiss is better than getting the cheek. Nevertheless, I had fun.  I think you are trill.

This is straight out of cocky/funny game. Except he did it all wrong. You’re not supposed to tell the girl her kiss was terrible, you’re supposed to rate it a “7, but i think with practice you could get up to an 8, or a 9 even”. And you have to do it in person, with a sly grin, not over email the next morning when the moment has long passed! What an amateur. Then he lowered his value further by admitting he was sexually rejected.

Maxim #75: If you get sexually rejected, don’t admit it to yourself, and especially don’t admit it to the girl.

And what does ‘trill’ mean? Sounds vaguely LARPer-ish.

Back to Anonymous Girl:

he hurt my feelings. i emailed him back – told him i’m not a restaurant and that he should ‘work it out.’ i guess these are the perils of the dating world! what a weirdo.

ps it should be noted i was complimentary throughout the entire evening, on the shirt, the restaurant, his writing, his family sagas…i guess he could smell that i wasn’t INTO him though and decided to dive bomb the entire experience in retaliation — gay.

Divebombing is the spurned id unleashed. Closers can afford to divebomb; betas cannot. If you sense that your date isn’t INTO you, then the best thing to do is say you had a nice time, wish her good luck finding someone, and leave. Don’t make a production out of it. Expressively minimalist is the alpha way when handling rejection. Vengeance is ecstatically thrilling from a position of power, but cringingly self-defeating from the vantage point of a cornered pig ego-pricked and bleeding beta all over the ground.

Strategically, I have a hard time blaming this guy for the failure of this courtship. There were other forces he was unaware of that conspired against his succeeding. Tactically, though, he was a complete fuck-up. His is the classic case of a congenital beta overreaching in a spazzy attempt at grasping the alpha mantle, landing a flurry of off-target blows, only to dissolve in a mudpuddle of piglet squeals when things didn’t go his way.

[crypto-donation-box]

Visualizing Omega

In my “Defining the Alpha Male” post, I described the detritus of malehood:

Lesser Omega, [Can only get] 0s and 1s, Will never feel love; can’t keep a girl longer than 3 days, Dry spells > 5 years.

I’ve already taken you on journeys exploring the vast wastelands of the beta universe, but that was child’s play. It’s time to pull back the curtain on the shambling mounds and wretched creatures who walk among us; the monsters who inhabit the far FAR left tail of the human bell curve.

Behold, the OMEGA:

When this is the best you can do, you are a lesser omega. You aren’t at the lowest level of dreg because you haven’t dropped out of society entirely and are able, however nauseatingly, to propagate your genes. But really, why would you condemn your future ugly children to a lifetime of misery and self-loathing? The compassionate thing to do would be to refrain from reproducing.

Notice the telltale omega traits (besides his choice of mate): Lowered gaze, meek countenance, leaning into his beastly wife, feeble self-conscious smile, dumbo ears, weak chin and jawline, beady eyes. Yes, he’s in the military, but that is no guarantee of high(er) status. The bottom of the barrel often embrace the soldier’s life because it offers the only chance to raise their value. They risk death as cannon fodder for a shot at respectability. If they’re lucky, they might even return home to a hero’s welcome.

Look at the faces on the groomsmen… abject defeat. Public humiliation. Despair for their unlucky buddy. Disgust. Even the little boy knows what a bunch of losers have gathered here today. The ability to discern a human status hierarchy is ingrained from birth. And they are likely pissed that the bridesmaids are too grotesque to tap.

The brideshogs look a little less morose, probably because they understand that their less-human-than-human hogzilla sister has gotten the better end of the deal by the very fact that she managed to find a man, however pathetic, who would be willing to dump a fuck in her flabby porcine hole.

62% of American women are overweight, with no end in sight to the disfiguration of their most precious resource. They live in towns like Ninety-Six, South Carolina (yes, real name). They have no self-discipline, eating until they explode like Mr. Creosote. Is it any wonder American men with the means are choosing to meet women overseas? When more than half the women in your country have removed themselves as dating prospects, the fuckable ones in the minority raise their asking price through the roof. It’s a vicious predicament.

If you were forced at gunpoint to have sexual relations with one of these women, who would you choose, and how would you do it? The couch crease never looked so sexy.

Sloping brow lardo and inbred omega nerdo in love. Possibly they are both borderline retarded. Ugliness and stupidity correlate. No one wants to look at people like this in the office, so they will probably work at jobs in coal mines or sewage treatment plants where they don’t pollute anyone’s vista. It’s time to end all public support so the genetic lines of the omegas dies out. It’s nature’s way to cull the weak and ugly. Without the cull, the degenerate freaks reproduce, dragging the rest of humanity with them (or chasing them off into gated communities with armed guards). The modern welfare state is responsible for the coming Idiocracy. It was preordained.

You can see the rest of the pictures at this forum, and the hilarious comments in response. The groom even has a Myspace page, so it’s the real deal.

Could this lesser omega have done better with game? Yes. In fact, for a guy this ugly, dorky and meek-looking, game will be especially effective. He can go from getting crushed underneath a heap of garbage during rutting to banging non-hideous 3s and 4s. Nothing short of Steve Buscemi level fame or vast wealth will raise his sexual market value, so the only self-improvement technique at his disposal is game.

I have to think there is no way this guy can get it up for her, no matter how horny or lonely. Below some mininum female ugliness floor, every penis becomes operationally flaccid. Ugly men and good-looking men get turned on by the same hot women, just like fat men and slim men want the same slender chicks. The packaging may change, but the brain remains the same.

While there is room to settle, I think past some ugly threshold a man looks at a pseudo-woman and regardless how motivated he is by the bounty of pity in his heart and horniness in his groin, his junk isn’t going to respond. Turning the lights off doesn’t always help. If she’s fat enough, you’ll hear her blubbery hideousness bumping into furniture and pulling the sheets off the bed. You’ll sink into her cheesy folds. You’ll listen to her grunts and wheezes as she goes down on you. You’ll have to sandblast the dingleberries out of her crack before doing her from behind. Dumpster dive deep enough, and you may as well be doing a man.

If this guy leaves her and decides it makes more sense to drop a few bucks and satisfy himself with a skanky street hooker, he will actually bump himself up from lesser omega to omega. As a man, there is such a thing as ranking lower than a celibate virgin — boffing a monstrous seacow will push you below a man whose only sexual outlet is porn.

[crypto-donation-box]

Dating In The City: A Series

Time for another colonoscopic glimpse into the fetid bowels of the urban dating scene. This city provides enough material for a book.

Damian: I had a second date with that cute 25 year old chick I was telling you about.

Me: Yeah? How’d this one go?

Damian: After we warmed up a bit, she started talking about the incredible amount of sex she had in high school and college. All the guys she banged and the crazy sex acts she performed, threesomes, public sex, etc. She said she’s pretty sure she was a nympho at age seventeen.

Me: Uh oh. Bad sign.

Damian: Right. That’s what I was thinking. As I’m getting more disgusted and aroused simultaneously, she leans in and tells me “Just to let you know, you shouldn’t bother making a move. You won’t get anywhere. I changed my ways. I’m not going to have sex until I’m married.”

Me: Unbelievable. Is every girl in this city a headcase? Maybe she converted to an orthodox religion or something.

Damian: No, she’s not religious. After she drops that bomb, I stared at her for a few seconds, flabbergasted. There was tension. Then I said “Are you fucking crazy? What makes you think you can pull this shit on a quality guy like myself?” I was pissed.

Me: Wow. So I guess that was it, eh?

Damian: Not yet. She starts tearing up a little. I stand up and tell her I’m going. She asks me if I’m going to get a drink. I say no, I’m leaving. She asks if I’m going home. I say no, I’m not going home, I’m going to a bar to meet up with friends, the night is still young.

Me: I love how she imagines you will go home, alone, with your tail tucked between your legs.

Damian: I put on my coat, wish her good luck on finding someone, and leave. I cross the street and look back… I can see the chairs we were sitting on through the window of the lounge, and she’s still sitting there, holding her drink. This broad drove an hour from out of town to meet me in the city, she clearly went out of her way, she was interested… so I have to ask what’s going through her mind when she tells me sex is off the table? She must be used to dating the herbliest of Herbs who meekly accepted her terms.

Me: The irony here is that she was probably never more turned on than right at that moment when you called her out on her shit. I bet that’s the first time she got wet since she became a born again virgin.

Damian: On the plus side I’m five for five getting girls to drive out of their way to meet me near my place.

[crypto-donation-box]

Unconditional Love

Write your own caption.

[crypto-donation-box]

The fix is in:

A surreal scientific blunder last week raised a huge question mark about the temperature records that underpin the worldwide alarm over global warming. On Monday, Nasa’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies (GISS), which is run by Al Gore’s chief scientific ally, Dr James Hansen, and is one of four bodies responsible for monitoring global temperatures, announced that last month was the hottest October on record.

This was startling. Across the world there were reports of unseasonal snow and plummeting temperatures last month, from the American Great Plains to China, and from the Alps to New Zealand. China’s official news agency reported that Tibet had suffered its “worst snowstorm ever”. In the US, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration registered 63 local snowfall records and 115 lowest-ever temperatures for the month, and ranked it as only the 70th-warmest October in 114 years.

So what explained the anomaly? GISS’s computerised temperature maps seemed to show readings across a large part of Russia had been up to 10 degrees higher than normal. But when expert readers of the two leading warming-sceptic blogs, Watts Up With That and Climate Audit, began detailed analysis of the GISS data they made an astonishing discovery. The reason for the freak figures was that scores of temperature records from Russia and elsewhere were not based on October readings at all. Figures from the previous month had simply been carried over and repeated two months running.

It’s easier to let these kinds of errors slip through the quality assurance process when you are ideologically invested in a specific outcome — namely, human induced catastrophic warming.

A GISS spokesman lamely explained that the reason for the error in the Russian figures was that they were obtained from another body, and that GISS did not have resources to exercise proper quality control over the data it was supplied with. This is an astonishing admission: the figures published by Dr Hansen’s institute are not only one of the four data sets that the UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) relies on to promote its case for global warming, but they are the most widely quoted, since they consistently show higher temperatures than the others.

If there is one scientist more responsible than any other for the alarm over global warming it is Dr Hansen, who set the whole scare in train back in 1988 with his testimony to a US Senate committee chaired by Al Gore. Again and again, Dr Hansen has been to the fore in making extreme claims over the dangers of climate change. (He was recently in the news here for supporting the Greenpeace activists acquitted of criminally damaging a coal-fired power station in Kent, on the grounds that the harm done to the planet by a new power station would far outweigh any damage they had done themselves.)

Yet last week’s latest episode is far from the first time Dr Hansen’s methodology has been called in question. In 2007 he was forced by Mr Watts and Mr McIntyre to revise his published figures for US surface temperatures, to show that the hottest decade of the 20th century was not the 1990s, as he had claimed, but the 1930s.

Cult leader Dr. Hansen should be fired. He is clearly too emotionally wedded to the religion substitute of global warming. Unlike journalists who aren’t held accountable by peer review, scientists live and die by their objectivity. Hansen has discredited himself. Anyone who believes scientists can’t be tainted by bias or corruption has a weak grasp of the constancy of human nature. Science is humanity’s Savior. I don’t want false prophets like Hansen as representatives of our last, best hope.

I predict that in ten or twenty years when the dust has settled and the truth of AGW gets a more reasonable hearing than it has to date, we will look back on this sorry episode as one of the greatest attempted swindles ever foisted by the global elite on the masses. I also predict that all those End Times leftists who embarrassingly swooned in apocalyptic fervor for the clarion call of cataclysmic global warming and ritually embraced it like a Sacramental Rite will pretend as if their lies never happened, and simply move on to their next self-congratulatory save-the-world cause du jour. And the media, of course, being hopelessly lost as a respectable institution of high-minded journalistic integrity, will enable them to evade public humiliation.

I read that the personality trait “openness to experience” correlates strongly with people of a certain political persuasion. It’s a nice personality trait to have. I have some of it myself. But there can be too much of a good thing. Armageddonationist global warming cultists are what happens when people are a little *too* open to new ideas.

[crypto-donation-box]

Reader Mailbag

My Inbox is getting unmanageable. So if you don’t see your post in the Reader Mailbag, or I take too long replying to your emails, you’ll know why. I need an assistant. Anyone want to brave my excruciatingly tense interview process? You must be: Cute, hot, pretty. Female.

This week’s mailbag features guest contributions from Finefantastic and Damian.

Email #1

I’m writing you because I’ve very clearly done something wrong, and I think you’re probably the only one who can help- being a 3rd party. I’m a NAF that was engaged to a greater beta, we were together for 6 years and engaged for 1. Then he went to NY to intern for a big law firm for the summer and started talking about going out with a coworker all the time. I thought that was a little unusual but didn’t feel the least bit threatened, especially after I met her. The woman was/ is a warpig (AND a female attorney! the least sexy occupation, right??) He’s even acknowledged (after he dumped me for her) that her face is “not her best attribute”.

I’m pissed that he took up the prime years of my dating life (21-almost 27), and bewildered…it’s not like I don’t get hit on a lot, but losing to a warpig will mindfuck you. How could this happen?

Thanks,
A.

Damian:
Never Underestimate the Majestic Warpig!

In the animal kingdom, the wild boar is ungainly, ugly, smelly, and foul tempered. But this member of the pig family is no barnyard slouch! Clever, brave, armed with sharp tusks, and possessing a certain uncanny swagger, it’s no surprise that the boar became a symbol of nobility and charisma in Medieval Europe. Even today it adorns the crest of my favorite cold cuts…….Boarshead!

The lesson here is, you met this woman, and because of her warpig looks, you completely dismissed her as harmless and no threat to steal your man. But little did you know, she was using her other attributes to win him over, most definitely doing all kinds of perverted kinky things in bed, things that you……couldn’t even dream of, perhaps because you never had to, as you’re not a warpig?

Finefantastic:
Oh, warpigs. Maybe she had a heart of gold. Maybe not. Why waste more of “prime dating years” agonizing about a situation out of your control? Besides, a good mindfuck builds character. Spin this into a screenplay or interpretive dance.

Me:
NAF? Northeast Asian Female? Nascent Alpha Female? Nasty Ass Female? I suspect this email is a joke. It has hit on too many of my themes and attempted to subvert them. Devil’s handiwork! He probably hooked up with a 10 secretary and you’re just pissed. If your email is true, then all I can say is… you got beat by a warpig! That’s gotta hurt! Consolation prize: You get to experience the thrill of my attention.

Email #2

I need your advice. I follow your blog religiously, and I am grateful for the pragmatic advice you give. It works.

Recently, I have applied your advice to a girl that I work with. We are currently both attracted to each other (and have verbally confirmed that for each other). We spend time together after work going for dinner and hanging out. We flirt with each other all the time. She lets me grab her ass, hug her, etc. The problem is that she has been in a relationship for about 3 months. She tells me we are just really good friends who have to deal with the attraction that we have for each other, but the physical nature of our “friendship” tells me she is very temped. Obviously I want more. Also, I am currently in a relationship that has been going for 16 months, but is slowly dying. She is aware of this.

A few more details to clarify the problem:

– She use to be overweight, but is quite decent now. Also, she is very insecure, but is slowly making progress overcoming that.
– She seems to have some issues with her current boyfriend (they have been dating for about 3 months and currently moved in together). She has criticized him to me on a couple of occassions. I get the sense that her insecurities make her cling to this guy.
– We have talked about our attraction for each other on numerous occassions. We have both admited that it is difficult to be attracted to each other, and still try to maintain our “committed” relationships with our respective partners.
– When I back off, she encourages me to continue flirting with her, and becomes pouty if I don’t.

Anyway, give it your best shot. I appreciate your wisdom.

Feel free to post the problem and advice, but leave my name out of it.

Truly Grateful

Me:
Mistaken Assumption #1: Thinking that a girl “verbally confirming” her attraction means anything. It doesn’t. The only confirmation of a girl’s attraction for you that matters is your penis in her vagina. On the hierarchy of female attraction signals (IOIs), a verbal confirmation counts about as much as a girl saying “could you please pass the salt?”. Thrust your hand under her skirt. Is it warm? Then she’s attracted to you.

Mistaken Assumption #2: Thinking that a girl who has “issues” with her current boyfriend means that she is ready to dump him for you. Nope, it’s just the opposite. When a girl badmouths her BF it means she wants his cock more than ever. Jesus, dude, she moved in with the guy. That should be a clue.

As a former fatty, this chick is obviously exercising her newfound power and LORDING it over you. You are the classic chump. The tool. The AFC. The harmless practice beta she uses for the ego boost. Feeling like shit yet? Good. Now you may begin your journey to enlightenment.

Here is my advice: The next time she “verbally confirms” her attraction for you, or talks to you about her asshole BF, tell her you’re not her therapist. You’re too busy fucking your girlfriend up the ass to deal with her issues. THEN you may have a shot with her.

Email #3

I’m an attractive 27 year old white woman who lives in the DC metro area.  I’ve always been bicurious, but although I certainly find many white women pretty to look at I am rarely sexually attracted to them.  I am primarily attracted to feminine Latinas and Greek/Italian looking women like Monica Bellucci.  I’m not all THAT into chicks, so I’d have to be very attracted to a woman to “go there”, and all of the lesbian/bisexual women I’ve met are even somewhat feminine are white. I have yet to meet a non-butch Latina lesbian.  I’ve met sexy Latinas with whom I’ve had a little bit of flirty chemistry but they’ve never been willing to take it further.  The expats have been ice cold in this regard.  Is this a DC thing?

When I look into the eyes of nearly every white woman of Northern European lineage I’ve ever met I simply don’t see the deep, intrinsic womanliness that Latinas, Mediterrenean, and some Russian women {have].  Sorry ladies, but we all have our tastes.

Will I have to settle for some banal Pink lookalike?

DL

Finefantastic:
Deep intrinsic womanliness? That is hilarious. If you want to avoid the Pink and Eminem lookalikes, I’d suggest Craigslist. Or a prostitute that fits your bill. Or get the sexy Latinas drunk.

Me:
What the fuck am I supposed to know about lesbians? Most of them are repulsive lumpy potato sacks. Bicurious lipstick pseudo-lezzies are great, but their cultural elevation as a male fantasy figure is way out of proportion to their actual numbers in society. Out of 100 dykes, there might be one decent looking feminine girl.

And it’s time the Northern Euro chicks stopped getting pegged as sexually repressed, Puritan, shrews lacking in “womanliness”. The hottest fucks I’ve ever had were with Irish lasses. German frauleins are downright deviant in bed. Polish babes are amazingly romantic. Asian girls are gentle, loving, and obsessed with the anus… you get the picture.

Email #4

Here’s a topic you might want to offer for consideration: women and e-mailing. Every woman I know, and I know quite a few, seems to have a built-in resistance to e-mails.( At least, personal e-mails. I assume they look at and respond to job-related e-mails.) I’ll send them things I think they’ll find interesting, and invariably they say, “I just don’t have time to look at my e-mail.” Yet they always seem to find time for telephone conversations, often lengthy ones, and that would seem to take up much more time than it would to check and read one’s e-mail. I’d be curious to know if other guys have noticed this.

B.

Finefantastic:
I often delete things people email me that I “may find interesting”. Usually it’s some sob-story cash grab, a moronic chain letter or an arcane article about politics. I could care less. If it is in fact interesting, I will take care to read future emails from that person. Separate yourself from the chaff by using shocking and offensive subject lines. As for girls and the phone, we need all the time we can get to ruminate over profound topics (like guys and episodes of Intervention).

Me:
Your observation is absolutely correct. Girls do not answer emails, or they take forever to reply. Which is funny, because they check their email every fucking second, glued as they are by an electronic umbilical cord to their Blackberries and iPhones. Scientists are hard at work figuring out why this is so… and why girls imagine we aren’t on to them. Bottom line: Girls prefer talking on the phone because it’s easier that way for them to tease out any crippling beta flaws you might have. They suspect a guy who has spent a lot of time lovingly crafting an email is not showing her his spontaneous, out of the box, improvisational, real-time worth as a man.

Maxim #52: Girls need to test men for their grace under pressure.

Advice: Stop sending them “interesting” emails. Every time a guy tells me he does this, I know he’s actually sending “LAME” emails that bore the girl to tears. Please re-read the “Sixteen Commandments of Poon” and memorize Commandments V and VI. Stick to text and short phone calls.

[crypto-donation-box]

One of the big problems with movies has been their complete turn to the beta side. Forgetting Sara Marshall and Say Anything are prime examples of the depths to which movies ostensibly aimed at beta males have sunk. (One would almost think it was a conspiracy.) All glib lowbrow humor and self-abasement, no admirable alpha males demonstrating how to properly game a woman. Nowadays, if the movie is about “gaming” chicks, like Hitch, it’s usually wrapped in some larger message that has the main character seeing the light and renouncing his past player ways. Fucking yawn.

Well I’m here to rectify that. In a dispiriting feminized world ruled by the high PC priest alpha males and their feminist allies and abetted by the useful tools in the eunuchocracy, where our culture overlords are intent on the subjugation and emasculation of the worker bee betas who would be their competitors, you have me shining a light unto the darkness. In a new series I’m calling “Great Scenes of Game in the Movies”, I will link to videos of scenes from the classics where alpha males show how it’s done. You will see that game as practiced by the PUAs has been around for a long time, and that it works, and the only thing that changed was that a bunch of smart guys, using the findings of science and their own field experience, have bottled the magic of the Rhett Butlers and made it digestible for the masses. This radical revolution in seduction technology is a serious threat to the existing order, so it’s no surprise that the elites drip with fearful contempt for the hedonist’s philosophy and tools of the trade.

One of the commenters gave me this idea (BasilRansom?) when he linked to this video of a classic scene from Gone with the Wind:

Watch and observe, betas. Pay close attention to every word he says and nuance in his body language. Now I’ll break this scene down. My comments are in brackets.

***

RHETT: You will, though. And another thing. Those pantalets. I don’t know a woman in Paris wears pantalets anymore.

[too metro to notice fashion details on a woman? tell it to rhett butler. watch how he does almost exactly what i wrote about in this post. he has negged scarlett and raised his value in her eyes.]

SCARLETT: What do they… you shouldn’t talk about such things.

[bam. just like that… attraction.]

RHETT: You little hypocrite, you don’t mind my knowing about them, just my talking about them.

[he calls her out on her BS and passes her shit test with flying colors.]

SCARLETT: Rhett, I really can’t go on accepting these gifts. Though you are awfully kind.

RHETT: I’m not kind, I’m just tempting you. I never give anything without expecting something in return. I always get paid.

[beautiful. she dangles the beta bait but he doesn’t bite. and let’s her know he won’t be like the other pushovers.]

SCARLETT: If you think I’ll marry you just to pay for the bonnet, I won’t.

RHETT: Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not a marrying man.

[“don’t flatter yourself” is a great line, guys. learn it and use it. rhett does a good job here of flipping the script. scarlett is now in the frame of chasing him, instead of him chasing her for marriage. keep in mind just how powerful this technique was back in the day when men routinely offered their hand for marriage.]

SCARLETT: Well, I won’t kiss you for it, either.

[shit test #2. hey, she’s hot. she can afford more than one shit test. in fact, it’s required.]

RHETT: Open your eyes and look at me. No, I don’t think I will kiss you. Although you need kissing badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.

[he passes shit test #2. watch carefully at 0:39. see how rhett moves his face in very close to scarlett’s face, as if he is going to kiss her and give her what she wants, and then pulls back right when the heat is hottest to deliver his killer disqualification line. this is a perfect demonstration of “push-pull” technique as taught by the PUAs. rhett is too smart for her games. he knows if he kisses her in this moment she has won a tactical victory… but lost her attraction for him.]

SCARLETT: And I suppose that you think that you are the proper person.

[more beta bait. how many beta friends do you know who would say “sure i am!”]

RHETT: I might be, if the right moment ever came.

[translation: i’m qualifying you.]

SCARLETT: You’re a conceited, black- hearted varmint, Rhett
Butler, and I don’t know why I let you come and see
me.

[you just know her panties are dripping wet now.]

RHETT: I’ll tell you why, Scarlett. Because I’m the only man
over sixteen and under sixty who’s around to show you
a good time.

[DHV. look at the expression on his face — AMUSED MASTERY. he’s bemused by her. and she can practically smell it — the musky aroma of a man who knows he’s the best she’ll ever get.]

***

There you have it. Learn from the greats and fall into an abundance of pussy.

[crypto-donation-box]

Ex Categories

One of the advantages of having a lot of experience under your belt is the fun you can have amusing yourself by categorizing your exes. And then writing a blog post about it later.

  • Fondly remembered

She was a good girl (rare). She treated you well. She loved you right. But maybe she was a point or two below your beauty ideal, so you left her to hunt for hotter quarry, walking away with nothing but warm memories of her. You miss her in that “wistfully smile thinking of her” way, not in that “gotta get back with her and tap that one more time” way. Normally, we refer to these girls as “former lovers” (you broke up on good terms) or “past lovers” (she moved to another country), not “exes”. Her inner beauty is the standard by which you measure every woman you date.

  • Indifferent

If she’s in your indifferent category, she should consider herself lucky… you won’t stalk her underneath her bedroom window, masturbating furiously. After a few days have passed post-breakup, you’ll be hard pressed to remember the name of a girl in this category. She was nothing more than a vagina supported by a human organism that you pleasured yourself into.

  • Hated Hos

These exes are the ropey tapeworm-infested turds that issued from Satan’s scalding anus. They represented the worst of the modern American woman. Odds are she was a lawyer or PR rep. Your “relationship” with her felt like war, with troops amassed on the field of hate, locked in eternal struggle, gaining or losing inches of emotional territory, a Battle Royale for “hand”. The upside to inspiring your hate is that you learn a valuable lesson from them… namely, how to spot their kind before they “accidentally” leave their earrings at your place. If you post an internet sex vid of an ex, this is the girl you will gleefully dishonor. Consider it proactive karma.

  • Regretfully remembered

You don’t hate these exes, but you wish you hadn’t got involved with them. A girl in this category has left you with a bad taste in your mouth and a rash on your junk. She’s the one you found out later had been with triple digit sex partners before she met you, and probably a few more while you were dating. You’ve caught her flirting with the guy at your favorite fast food joint who prepares your falafel platter, and you wondered what the hell else they had going on. She’s a psycho, a stalker, a slut, a drama queen, a catty backstabber, and a utensil-throwing, suicide-threatening, hey-check-out-my-big-black-dildo, stick-her-finger-up-your-asshole-during-sex whirlwind of whorishness all wrapped up in one. She was good to you on paper, but you couldn’t compete with her id — all she could do was think with her clit. This is the girl who made a confirmed cynic out of you. She is the most likely candidate to wind up a pathetic cougar.

  • That one sex act

Every guy has flashbacks of intense sexual moments with one or more of their exes. Women remember anniversaries, gifts given and received, the color of your shirt when you first kissed her, but we men mostly remember one thing — that time we had you bent over the back of the sofa with your jeans down around your ankles as we were drilling you from behind and watching the whole thing in a floor length mirror nearby. In fact, a man can measure the strength of his love for an ex and how long it will take him to get over her by the number and clarity of sex acts he remembers. The dirty memory of a truly hot ex will give a guy a boner faster than a mediocre looking girl standing right in front of him.

  • The one who got away

Don’t front, tough guy. Every man has that One Girl (or ten girls) Who Got Away, taunting him from the shadows of his past. If you don’t, you haven’t lived. You’ve learned so much from your experience with this one girl, and you’ve become a better man for it, stronger in spirit and resilient in adversity, but… you still wish it hadn’t fallen apart. She is the force of nature against which all future women will compete… and come up short.

[crypto-donation-box]

Love In The Time Of Game

A lot of readers have sent me a link to this article by Kay Hymowitz, “Love in the Time of Darwinism“. I decided to take a look at it, not expecting much as is usually the case with any article written by a woman on the current state of dating, sex and game. Surprisingly, Hymowitz gets closer to the truth than any other journalist, but that’s not saying much — she’s still a million miles deep in lala land, hamstrung by her feminist biases. Her tone drips with resentment and condescension for the men who have successfully navigated the new dating landscape.

Their argument, in effect, was that the SYM [single young male] is putting off traditional markers of adulthood—one wife, two kids, three bathrooms—not because he’s immature but because he’s angry.

Or smart.

He’s angry because he thinks that young women are dishonest, self-involved, slutty, manipulative, shallow, controlling, and gold-digging.

Women have always been this way. What changed was the pill, condom, economic parity and feminist devolution. Contrary to the conventional wisdom propagandized by our ignoble Kunty Kommissars of the Kulturkampf in charge of punishing the masses for daring to pull the wool from their own eyes, women’s sexual nature, not men’s, is the wilder of the two. Women’s pussy keeps men in check, but dick doesn’t keep women in check, save for organically emergent cultural controls that put the brakes on female sexuality through the consequences of shaming, accidental pregnancy and potential out-of-wedlock destitution. If men in the trenches are reporting that women are more dishonest, shallow and sluttier than ever, then the blame rests with giving women *more* freedom, not less. It’s understandable that a feminist would shirk from this conclusion.

He’s angry because he thinks that the culture disses all things male.

Captain Obvious agrees. Has there ever been a period in human history when the men who built the tribe from the ground up into a gleaming civilization on the hill were more actively marginalized than now?

He’s angry because he thinks that marriage these days is a raw deal for men.

He thinks this because it’s true. The blessed Word of Chateau is spreading far and wide across the land. Spreading, I say.

This is from Dean in California: “Men are finally waking up to the ever-present fact that traditional marriage, or a committed relationship, with its accompanying socially imposed requirements of being wallets with legs for women, is an empty and meaningless drudgery.”

This guy sounds like he got taken to the cleaners and has lost his perspective. When you see yourself as a walking wallet, women will agree. The way out of that self-fulfilling prophecy is knowledge of women, and game as practical application of that knowledge. Women will use men with money and nothing else, but they’ll fall in love with men who are psychologically dominant. Where marriage sucks because it is a social mechanism designed to exchange sex for indentured servitude and enforced by the law, committed loving relationships are great.

You can find the same themes posted throughout websites like AmericanWomenSuck, NoMarriage, MGTOW (Men Going Their Own Way), and Eternal Bachelor (“Give modern women the husband they deserve. None”).

Oh Kay, don’t be coy. You’ve been here, scared little bunny rabbit.

The reason for all this anger, I submit, is that the dating and mating scene is in chaos.

Freedom is chaos.

SYMs of the postfeminist era are moving around in a Babel of miscues, cross-purposes, and half-conscious, contradictory female expectations that are alternately proudly egalitarian and coyly traditional.

The way out of this morass is to not play by women’s rules.

And because middle-class men and women are putting off marriage well into their twenties and thirties as they pursue Ph.D.s, J.D.s, or their first $50,000 salaries, the opportunities for heartbreak and humiliation are legion.

Note: The median individual income in America is $32,000. The “elites” (and I use the term disparagingly) are completely out of touch.

PS: I use individual income and not household income because the former matters more to a man’s chances for finding a woman. If the culture were truly arranged to the benefit of beta provider males, the tax code would reflect that. It does not. In fact, just the opposite.

By the early twentieth century, things had evolved so that in the United States, at any rate, a man knew the following: he was supposed to call for a date; he was supposed to pick up his date; he was supposed to take his date out, say, to a dance, a movie, or an ice-cream joint; if the date went well, he was supposed to call for another one; and at some point, if the relationship seemed charged enough—or if the woman got pregnant—he was supposed to ask her to marry him.

This system worked when men held the economic and social upper hand.

Maxim #15: Female cultural equality = male dating inequality. Female cultural inequality = male dating equality. You cannot have both. So sayeth human nature.

For one thing, men face a situation—and I’m not exaggerating here—new to human history. Never before have men wooed women who are, at least theoretically, their equals—socially, professionally, and sexually.

Unfortunately, she does not make the connection and put two and two together. The problem lies not with men, who are merely skeleton keys that adapt to whatever lock women weld on their gates; the “problem” lies with women who have no choice but to obey their hindbrain programming and seek higher status mates in the sexual market as long as their assets allow.

But then, when an SYM walks into a bar and sees an attractive woman, it turns out to be nothing like that. The woman may be hoping for a hookup, but she may also be looking for a husband, a co-parent, a sperm donor, a relationship, a threesome, or a temporary place to live. She may want one thing in November and another by Christmas.

Women are incorrigibly capricious. This is why men must lead. Without male leadership, women spiral into a maelstrom of their emotions, buffetted to the point of ecstatic overdose until they wake up one day older and none the wiser, with no male attention off of which to ricochet helplessly addicted.

In fact, young men face a bewildering multiplicity of female expectations and desire. Some women are comfortable asking, “What’s your name again?” when they look across the pillow in the morning.

No woman has ever done this to me, but if she did I’d tell her “Fuck you, that’s my name.”

Straus describes a 26-year-old journalist named Lisa fixed up for a date with a 29-year-old social worker. When he arrives at her door, she’s delighted to see that he’s as good-looking as advertised. But when they walk to his car, he makes his first mistake: he fails to open the car door for her. Mistake Number Two comes a moment later: “So, what would you like to do?” he asks.

Chivalry cannot coexist with female empowerment and unfettered sexual choice. The days of door holding are long over. Get used to it.

The cultural muddle is at its greatest when the dinner check arrives. The question of who grabs it is a subject of endless discussion on the hundreds of Internet dating sites.

Mistake number one: Taking the chick out for dinner. Quiz for the readers: What changed in the culture that dinner dates became less than useless?

The general consensus among women is that a guy should pay on a first date: they see it as a way for him to demonstrate interest.

Mistake number two: Actively trying to demonstrate interest before attraction.

“Women seemingly have decided that they want it all (and deserve it, too),” Kevin from Ann Arbor writes. “They want to compete equally, and have the privileges of their mother’s generation. They want the executive position, AND the ability to stay home with children and come back into the workplace at or beyond the position at which they left. They want the bad boy and the metrosexual.”

As long as the government and the culture are there to pay for women’s freedom in the forms of, for example, divorce theft, child support, on-site daycare, and overregulated totalitarian nanny state intrusion, they will be able to have it all. But there is a price to pay: Men abdicating any obligation to behave according to women’s expectations. Hence, the pump and dump. The Game. The elevation of self-interest above all. Ironically, the trappings of modern society are forcing a return to a primal state of nature.

To this day, male-bashing is the lingua franca of situation comedies and advertising: take the dimwitted television dads from Homer Simpson to Ray Romano to Tim Allen, or the guy who starts a cooking fire to be put out by his multitasking wife, who is already ordering takeout.

There’s a reason I almost entirely stopped watching TV. That shit pollutes your state.

By far the most important philosopher of the Menaissance is Charles Darwin. The theory that human sexual preferences evolved from the time that hominids successfully reproduced in the primeval African grasslands can explain the mystery of women’s preference for macho—or alpha—males.

Evolutionary psychology is the most parsimonious explanation for gender differences.

At the same time, evolutionary theory gives the former wuss permission to pursue massive amounts of sex with an endless assortment of women.

Permission has got nothing to do with it. Men have always had “permission”, in the strictest sense of the word. What evolutionary theory gives men is a solid scientifically backed framework for maximizing their advantage in the mating game.

Women want alpha males, the Seduction Community agrees; with some effort at self-improvement, any man can learn the game—Game, as it is reverently known—that will turn him into a Pick Up Artist (PUA).

Not every man can become a PUA, but every man can improve his lot with women by learning game.

A highly skilled PUA can get any woman, even an HB10[…]

I don’t know any PUA who claims this. What they claim is that any man can experience more choice in women through game.

It’s impossible to know just how many wannabe PUAs there are out there, but judging from the multitude of websites like AlphaSeduction, Fast Seduction 101, Grow Your Game, SeductionTutor, and The Seduction Chronicles, as well as chat rooms, conferences, ads for seduction gurus, boot camps not just in the United States but all over Europe and parts of Asia, and books, including Neil Strauss’s 2005 best-selling The Game, their numbers are considerable.

The barn door is open and the animals are running free. Women will respond. They are genetically wired to make it as hard as possible for men to get up their skirts. It’s a sexual arms race now and forevermore.

Game is best understood as an SYM attempt to bring order to contemporary dating confusion.

Not really. It’s best understood not as an attempt to bring order, but as an attempt to cash in on the chaos.

Remember those women who want a guy who will open the car door for them? They may be lucky if they find one willing to add “please” to “Pass the ketchup.”

And they can’t help but love these men for it.

Game goes even further, actually encouraging men to “neg” their “target” women—that is, to undermine their confidence subtly by ignoring or mildly insulting them.

Why is it so hard for women to grasp the neg concept? No term has been as misconstrued as this one. A neg is not an insult, it’s a backhanded compliment.

Indeed, the Darwinists wonder, why pretend we’re interested in anything other than sex?

Darwinistic game is equally effective in the realm of love as in the steambath of sex.

Darwinian mores, or anti-mores, also explain the brutal status jockeying that pervades the contemporary dating scene and that makes the high school cafeteria look like a feminist utopia. Check out DarwinDating.com, a matchmaking website “created exclusively for beautiful, desirable people.” Members rank your picture on a scale of one to five and vote on whether to let you join their honored ranks or throw you into the slush pile of “saggy,” “hairy,” “sweaty,” “nerdy” rejects.

The ugly truths are seeping into every crevice of society, poisoning the marrow of idealistic impulse. As we learn more about how the brain works, this is inevitable. The pretty lies once served some higher, nobler purpose, but that is dead now. Embrace the known.

With good Darwinian logic, though, [men] believe that women tend to do their reckoning on the basis of wallet size rather than pulchritude.

Not exactly. Wallet size is just one of many factors. Women do their reckoning on the basis of power, status and dominance.

Seduction artists even say they prefer savvy women who understand Game as a male version of cleavage-revealing tops.

Except tougher to implement. Hey, no guts no glory.

No, the problem with the Darwinian tenor of the Menaissance is neither antipathy to women’s equality nor a misguided reading of female nature. It is an uncompromising biological determinism that makes no room for human cultivation.

And finally we get to the part where Hymowitz desperately claws for some escape out of the tar pits of Darwinistic cruelty. It is practically preordained that her gestures toward spiritually-tinged human transcendence, particularly as she expects it of men alone, will be feeble. A simple question many men ask themselves: If I play by the rules and make room for human cultivation, and the asshole down the street is getting laid like gangbusters, then what’s in it for me?

If Hymowitz answers “An ennobling of your spirit and dignity as a man”, she will lose the argument.
As well she should.

They define manhood as alpha-style toughness and unsentimental promiscuity.

Not quite. Women love to play the promiscuity card to belittle men’s choices, but alpha manhood is better defined as projecting the behaviors and attitude that make promiscuity an option. It is the ability to be promiscuous, not necessarily the promiscuity itself, that defines the man loved by women.

And in that spirit, they cultivate manipulation, calculation, and naked (in both the literal and metaphorical sense) self-interest.

Manipulation is a loaded word meant to manipulate the reader into agreement. Truth: All goal-oriented language and behavior is manipulation. We all do it, all the time, even when we engage in trite politesse to smooth social interactions. To argue that Game is manipulation is to argue that every twist and turn of courtship is as well. And in the manipulation sweepstakes of seduction, I’d give the edge to women. By a country mile.

But human beings rely on culture to tame natural selfishness.

Some cultures amplify natural selfishness, others tame it. You can’t rely on that which is actively dispossessing. If Hymowitz wants a taming culture, she had better be ready to accept that the current configuration is a failed experiment. By Chateau standards, though, it’s been a glowing success!

After all, we have prohibitions against grabbing a neighbor’s steak off the grill or kidnapping his daughter, to give just two examples of behavior about which Nature also doesn’t care.

Normally, when we refrain from stealing the neighbor’s steak, we expect our neighbor to reciprocate our restraint. As an analogy to the present state of sexual affairs, that is not what we have today.

For this reason, successful human cultures expect far more of their men than muscle and promiscuity.

Tit for tat, baby. Minus expectations from women, it makes no sense to expect anything from men.

They see that when the old dating and courting regime fell, it left a cultural vacuum with no rules for taming or shaming the boors, jerks, and assholes.

More appropriately, the whores, sluts, and serial daters.

And if the past is any guide, most of them, even the most masterly PUAs, will eventually find themselves coaching Little League on weekends.

Change is coming. Give it time. Soon the Little League fields will echo with the empty sound of wind rustling the uncut grass.

In a national survey of young, heterosexual men, the National Marriage Project, a research organization at Rutgers University, found that the majority of single subjects hoped to marry and have kids someday.

Hope is the tribute reality pays to fantasy.

Neil Strauss, the author of The Game, says that during his PUA years, he saw enough lies and infidelity to make Darwin look like an optimist. “Losing all hope is freedom,” snarls the blogger at Eternal Bachelor.

True. But would you rather get laid and lose all hope, or be a failure with women and lose all hope? The choice is clear. The pleasure of a woman’s company and the enrichment of her love more than compensates for the loss of hope.

In fact, some people would wager that the Darwinian answer to dating chaos is our future normal.

Barring any radical reorientation of our culture, yes. But I foresee the pendulum swinging back.
And I predict you will not like it, Kay, because it would mean a betrayal of your core ideology.

[crypto-donation-box]

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