Why do some men use the toilet to piss, splashing droplets of urine all over the seat, when there are two perfectly good, AVAILABLE, urinals nearby?
You suck, toilet pissers.
[crypto-donation-box]
The Best Reason to Leave Your Comfort Zone
Dec 14th, 2007 by CH
It slows down time.
[W]arping of time apparently does not result from the brain speeding up from adrenaline when in danger. Instead, this feeling seems to be an illusion, scientists now find.
We feel time moving slower when we are in danger or experiencing novel stimuli because of a trick played by the brain’s memory centers.
Instead, such time warping seems to be a trick played by one’s memory. When a person is scared, a brain area called the amygdala becomes more active, laying down an extra set of memories that go along with those normally taken care of by other parts of the brain.
“In this way, frightening events are associated with richer and denser memories,” Eagleman explained. “And the more memory you have of an event, the longer you believe it took.”
Eagleman added this illusion “is related to the phenomenon that time seems to speed up as you grow older. When you’re a child, you lay down rich memories for all your experiences; when you’re older, you’ve seen it all before and lay down fewer memories. Therefore, when a child looks back at the end of a summer, it seems to have lasted forever; adults think it zoomed by.”
I have very distinct memories of sitting in my ninth grade German class watching the second hand on the big white clock over the chalkboard tick by endlessly on its countdown to the 3 PM closing bell. Those last three seconds seemed to hang on for an eternity. Today I can sit at my desk, look at the computer clock, look at it again, and be amazed (and depressed) that an hour flew by. According to this study, I perceive time moving faster than it used to because I am no longer getting enough new experiences in my life like I did as a child. To remedy this I will actively pursue harrowing and stimulating adventures, like bungee jumping, worldwide travel, and multitudes of women.
Multitudes of women. And traveling to unique locales.
Whoever thought that gaming girls in foreign countries could actually lengthen your lifespan? Science says it is so.
[crypto-donation-box]
Sweetness is defined as robbing a girl of the satisfaction of walking away from a failing relationship with the upper hand. It means stealing her thunder when she wants to be the dumper. There are two ways to do this, and both require presence of mind to accurately assess when she is about to pull the trigger. Timing is everything; you need to act right after she has made up her mind but just before she announces her intent to leave. Striking when the dissolution of the relationship has reached core meltdown will ensure maximum emotional impact and bewilderment.
Strategy 1
Dump her first.
Don’t do it too early while the embers of love are still strong or you’ll forswear many more months of sex and leave her brokenhearted. The Moloko Plus of righteous vengeance tastes bitter when raised in toast to a hapless, innocent victim. Save your awesome cruelty for the deserving. After she has grown cold to your affections and has begun plotting her escape she will care not a whit for your well-being. Thereafter feel free to unleash your malevolence unburdened by guilt.
When she has stopped returning your calls promptly and you sense the first stirrings of trouble, put your plan into action. Arrange to meet for drinks at your favorite bar (familiar turf is best). She won’t balk yet because you and her are still dating even if the spark has left. She may have lost the desire to hang out with you but her sense of obligation to the relationship will linger a little while longer. This window of tentative indifference usually lasts about two weeks. This is when you will act. As you and her are sitting there drinking and you’re watching her get more irritable by the minute, pause dramatically and with great solemnity announce that it’s just not working out, you’ve felt this way for a while, and though you hate hurting her like this you can’t fake it anymore and pretend like everything’s OK. You think it is unfair to keep her in a one-sided relationship when you don’t share her feelings and you want to end it now so the both of you can move on.
IMPORTANT: Do NOT give her an opportunity to respond. You want the confusion to fuck with her head for weeks.
Stand up from the table, throw a few bucks down for the drinks, and tell her you hope you can still be friends. When she attempts to sputter something in defense, hold up your hand forcefully and say “Don’t make it harder! We both need time to ourselves”, then walk out.
Strategy 2
Use her dumping power against her.
Wait for her to initiate the inevitable breakup talk and get a sense of the direction she plans to steer the conversation, then use her own words as your weapons. For instance, if she starts “I’ve been thinking…” you reply “I’ve been thinking too…”. If she says “I need space…” you say “I agree, we both need space…” then give her a reason why that space is so important by homing in on one of her critical weaknesses. Don’t know her critical weakness? What are you, a nancyboy? One of the first things you should accomplish in a relationship is taking a mental note of your girlfriend’s vulnerabilities. If you feel bad about doing this, trust me, she’s doing it to you. So find her buttons in case you need to press them in the future.
This strategy works only if you execute with the utmost subtlety. Simply blurting out everything you find distasteful about her after she has already lowered the boom will make you look feeble and hurt. You want to agree with her and then add your own opinion of the reasons for the failed relationship as if you understand her difficulty and are trying to make the whole process of dumping you easier for her. At first, she will approve of your “maturity” in handling the situation; later, when what you have said sinks in, she will seethe with hatred for you.
An example of this happened to me with a LAWYER chick I had dated for a couple months. She didn’t return one of my text messages for two days so I knew what to expect when she finally called. I answered the phone prepared:
Her: I have something to tell you…
Me: Yeah, me too.
Her: You do? Well go ahead, what did you want to say?
Me: No, you go first. I didn’t mean to interrupt.
Her: Well, OK… I’m sorry about this but I just don’t see us working out…
Me: I know…
Her: … and I don’t think… you know?
Me: Yeah, we’re not a good match. You’re looking for something else, and I’m looking for a more down-to-earth girl.
[NOTE: Every chick lawyer’s open bleeding wound is being thought of as too uptight, snobby, and anal. Telling a lawyer she is not down-to-earth is like rubbing rock salt in the wound.]
Her: Down-to-earth?
Me: I guess I was hoping it would work itself out.
Her: [Switching into snippy lawyer-talk mode] Well, I’m glad we can agree on this. Good day.
Oh I had hit pay dirt. Sure, I didn’t want the good times to end but at least I stopped her momentum dead in its tracks and left her with steam coming out of her ears. The proof of this is in what happened six months later when she saw me sitting at a sidewalk cafe table with some friends — she approached me and looked visibly nervous as she practically shouted how great it was to see me. My deft handling of the breakup had seared an indelible impression in her mind. Robbing her of the closure every woman needs with a breakup is a surefire way to keep the attraction simmering.
With great hate comes great love.
[crypto-donation-box]
Girls’ Night In
Dec 12th, 2007 by CH
I had the following phone conversation with a girl I was asking out for a third date:
Me: How does Tuesday sound?
Her: Oh no, Thursday is better. Tuesday is no good, that’s girls’ night!
Me: Is this anything like a lesbian orgy?
Her: Ha, no, we get together and do arts and crafts every Tuesday night. We make yarn doilies and have a friendly competition to see who can knit the best. And we drink a few bottles of red wine.
Me: For real?
Her: Yes, it’s fun! It’s not really about the competition, it’s about the bonding.
Me: And the giggling.
Her: Squeals and giggles!
This is a social phenomenon you will never see straight guys doing. I can’t even mentally picture a scenario under which there could be a “boys’ night in” without crossing over to fruitville. There isn’t a guy alive who would postpone a hot date to sit in a semi-circle on pillows in the living room with his buddies one designated night a week to play Uno, do a group pedicure, and bitch about girls. Guys get together to watch the game and sit respectable distances from each other on the couch, but nothing remotely resembling what girls do. The closest I can think of is when fifteen guys in my college dorm all piled into one cramped room to watch a porno and get a mass erection.
Me: So what do you guys talk about?
Her: Family, girl stuff, guys… then we talk about cats.
Girl who talks about cats + one dating checklist bullet point too many = cat lady.
The Girls’ Night In is a peculiar idiosyncracy of the childless late 20- and 30-something yuppie woman who has a library of dating books with titles like “Listen to Your Inner Bitch and Avoid These Men” and a secret stash of glittery tiaras she wears while modeling consignment shop clothes in front of a floor length mirror. Without the constant positive feedback of a supportive environment of close friends and family, women go slowly crazy. Since modern urban living shreds these ancient connections, they get their fix by taking “classes” and inventing ridiculous reasons for getting together with other women over a contrived commonality.
Women need to aimlessly socialize like men need to jerk off. If they don’t, they get their version of blue balls — wild mood swings. The fact that a girl will complain about not meeting any good men and then postpone a date with a guy she really likes to talk excitedly about that guy with her girlfriends at a doily-knitting party on the same night she could be in that guy’s arms making out with him proves that girls are mentally ill and should not be trusted with positions of power.
Conclusion
Different species. Men are more closely related to chimpanzees than they are to women.
[crypto-donation-box]
The View Is Mind Rot
Dec 10th, 2007 by CH
The English woman who was jailed in Sudan for letting a kid in her class name a teddy bear Muhammed is profusely apologizing for causing offense to fundamentalist freaks:
I was very upset to think that I may have caused offence to people – very, very upset about it.
I’m just an ordinary middle-aged primary school teacher. I went out there to have an adventure and got a lot more adventure than what I was looking for. I never imagined this would happen.
Mrs Gibbons added that she was “very sorry” to leave Sudan, where she had had a “fabulous time”.
It is a beautiful place and I had a chance to see some of the countryside.
As a representative of the decaying, degenerate West this woman comes close to embodying the sad state of its people. A bunch of filth called for her death over a teddy bear name and she is sorry for causing them emotional distress.
Holy fucking christ.
This is what happens when a culture is utterly feminized and castrated. You show your soft underbelly at the slightest provocation hoping the bully will leave you alone, and when he doesn’t you apologize for instigating him to steal your lunch money. The fighting spirit of the West is gone; the death of the fucking spirit will follow.
At least she enjoyed the countryside. Fabulous!
The National Organization for Women said they were “not putting out a statement or taking a position.”
Handy Translation: “Now that we American feminists have completely neutered our men into submission we secretly get moist for the Saracen barbarians who would put us in our legs-spread, ass-up place. And we can perfectly rationalize this under the rubric of multiculturalism.”
The View chimed in with this gem:
WHOOPI GOLDBERG: You’d think if you’re going overseas, I mean, we had this discussion yesterday about people coming to America and learning the customs and knowing what is cool, and what isn’t cool. But I find that maybe we are not- and I say we just as European and American, we’re not as anxious to learn the customs before we go places. It’s just one of the reasons we’re called the ugly Americans.
If you get jailed or stoned for consenting to a kid naming his teddy bear after a mythical pedophilic figure you are an ugly American for not making the effort to learn about your tormentors’ randomly murderous impulses.
Whoopi Goldberg, you are a dumb fuck. 100% dumb fuck.
Here is something no one will ever hear on The View:
Some cultures are superior. Some are inferior. We half-brained old bags of The View are awfully glad we live in a superior culture so that we may broadcast our nonsense without fear of public execution.
Given that the audience for The View is mostly middle-aged menopausal hausfraus well past their expiration date the upside is that men won’t be looking to bang them and therefore won’t need to pretend to take their idiotic opinions seriously.
The downside: These hausfraus vote.
[crypto-donation-box]
Girlfriend Or Fling? Holiday Edition
Dec 6th, 2007 by CH
It’s a Very Special Christmas Girlfriend or Fling.
This photo looks like an advertisement for Peroni, the Miller Lite of Italian beer, but it is in fact an actual nightclub shot.
Most Northeast Asian girls (Japan, China, Korea) are good girlfriend material. They are more monogamously inclined than other races of women, save the Finns and Irish. Ten randomly chosen Asian girls in relationships will have fewer cheaters amongst them than ten randomly chosen girls in relationships from different geographic regions of the world. Based on this, my initial assessment is that the Asian in this photo has solid girlfriend potential. However, closer inspection reveals details to the contrary that give pause. One, the hand draped effortlessly over the guy. Two, left boob contact with his arm. Three, forehead to forehead contact. Four, a slightly forward-thrust pelvic area. Five, slouching… my unquestionable opinion is that slouchy girls are sexually looser than girls with good posture. Six, the bedroom eyes… in a nightclub. Seven, she’s not wearing any breast support. Those mangos are hanging low on the tree and begging to be plucked.
If this guy is not her boyfriend, (and judging by that hammy look on his face, I’d guess not), then the Asian girl is clearly a fling.
The girl on the right has too much blush on her cheeks which screams dirty little tramp. As the wisdom of the grandmothers says: Ladies pinch, whores rouge. She is showing the bottom row of teeth in her smile, which is a leading indicator of sluttiness. Her voluminous cleavage reinforces my impression. Also, she’s allowing the guy to wedge his leg into her crotch. She’s riding his left leg like a mechanical bull. Total fling. Her saving grace might be that she looks like a hapa (half-asian, half-white… wasian) which should help keep her slutty urges in check by the forces of faithfulness. I like the fact that she is not wearing dangly earrings. Her minimal accessorizing speaks well of her. I’d be tempted to give a girl like this a chance to become a member of my stable of regulars except that she looks six months pregnant. Any girl swollen with that much baby should not be in a nightclub — she should be home learning how to crochet blankets or playing Beethoven to boost her fetus’s IQ.
If she is not pregnant, then she needs to jump on a treadmill instead of going out drinking. If that is fat, I feel bad for her. I’ve never seen a girl put weight on like a middle-aged man with a beer gut. Did she swallow a keg? If she’s not pregnant, and that is not a beer belly, then the only explanation left is that she is uncomfortably arching her back so her stomach and ass protrude for maximum attention-getting. Which brings us back to total fling.
I like the guy’s shirt. I bet he’s saying to her “Heeeeeey, how YOU doin’?”
[crypto-donation-box]
Hopeless Rebels
Dec 5th, 2007 by CH
Every time I venture to Georgetown (daygame, shopping, peeping in millionaires’ windows) I see these two characters loitering on the corner of M and Wisconsin in front of the Douche Republic selling black T-shirts printed with the words “Stop Bitching. Start a Revolution”.
A few passersby slow down to hear their sales pitch. Mostly, people ignore them as if they were road pylons to steer around, which isn’t hard to do as they aren’t in-your-face obtrusive with their schtick. I’ve always been curious what revolution they are selling so this time I stop and talk to the blond pony-tailed guy.
Me: What kind of revolution do you want to start?
Him: A new way of living… saying no to society’s rat race. Hey, it’s really busy right now, you want a T-shirt?
A reluctant capitalist.
stop showering seek an institution.
I didn’t tell him that starting a revolution is the biggest bitching a person can do.
When I got home I dogpiled (I despise google’s owners) their T-shirt slogan and found this story.
They call themselves the Zendiks and live in a small group of 30 on a commune in West Virginia, subsistence farming and selling T-shirts, CDs, and bumper stickers in the city. A woman who escaped from the social experiment is writing a memoir about her imprisonment time there. She said it had the hallmarks of a cult and was run by authoritarian leaders.
Translation: A David Koresh-style guy at the top horded all the young pussy for himself while brainwashing the rest into believing they were participating in a beautiful rainbow of non-competitive, non-status seeking cooperation.
Nearly all ostensibly egalitarian cooperative communes eventually fail. You can only bottle up innate human drives for so long. A famous example is the Oneida Commune. Jockeying for status among the top leaders (who were, of course, men) and sexual tensions helped undo the commune’s mission. What’s hilarious is that the leaders encouraged the young men to refrain from ejaculating during sex because “wasting” semen was bad. As a result, the women enjoyed many hours of prolonged sex from betas who sacrificed their own pleasure by not cumming, while the alpha males got to impregnate women whenever they wanted.
I have a theory about anti-establishment anti-social dropouts. It’s not society they hate; it’s themselves. They hate their own natures. The world around them is their mirror, reflecting everything that frightens them about their own bestial id essence. They try to escape their evolutionary heritage by retreating to the woods to resurrect the ghost of Karl Marx. I suspect most of the members are of Northern European ancestry.
People like this are starting a revolution against human nature. It is a battle they are doomed to lose.
[crypto-donation-box]
Outrage Of The Day
Dec 2nd, 2007 by CH
Ugly people canoodling in public.
It’s not cute. It’s not charming. It doesn’t make people go “aww” to themselves.
Please, kindly take your ugly nuzzling to the privacy of your homes and draw the shades. Think of the beautiful people’s feelings.
[crypto-donation-box]
Number One Asset
Nov 29th, 2007 by CH
I once had to get rid of a girl for a shallow reason. It’s a shame, too. I didn’t want to… she was cute, considerably younger, sweet… but some things are non-negotiable deal killers. I was finger banging her during foreplay and, because I like the full experience, I brought my fingers up to my nose for a big sniff.
DAMN! PEW!
Her vaginal odor instantly ruined the mood. I don’t know what produced it — natural musky scent, yeast infection, old chicken wings — but a foul genital smell is right up there with brandishing an ice pick for making me walk away from sex and finish up later to pics of Lois from Family Guy.
I butched up and endured for as long as I could, but every time we changed positions and her bush passed through my smell zone I got blasted in the face with toxic fumes. Doing her doggy style I was forced to press her ass cheeks together to keep the odor trapped. Afterwards, I was afraid to smell anything on me. I scrubbed my hands like a surgeon prepping for an operation and hours later the stank was still on my fingers.
I spent the next day smelling my own farts to get rid of the memory. Then I shaved my pubes because I figured there was no way her sticky pungent juices would ever leave my groin. It was like radical lice therapy.
I like going down on very attractive girls. But even a Russian 10 would stop me cold in my tracks if her pussy smelled that strongly. If I can’t go down on her without suppressing a gag and crying like I was peeling onions with a clothespin on my nose she will never be a long term prospect. I may as well cut my losses.
I had a nightmare that night about being tortured by Central Asian Islamists who forced my face repeatedly into this girl’s snatch while yelling PUSSY IS GREAT! LICK IT DRY! over and over. They called it beaverboarding.
Here’s Chateau Tip #14, ladies: Your vagina is your number one asset. Treat it as such.
Maybe girls can’t smell their own pussies the way we can’t smell our own bad breath. In that case, it’s the duty of every man to inform his stinky girl she has issues down there. If she can’t be bothered to fix a problem with her number one asset then that tells me she does not care for my desires as a man. If she refuses because of a hippie belief in going au naturel then dump her. Feminist mother earth hippie chicks with unkempt overgrown bushes will never treat you like the king you are. Selfishness is a major character flaw in women.
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