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I’ve been meaning to read Jonathan Haidt’s new book “The Righteous Mind“, on the recommendation of many readers who say it is an epic synthesis of human morality that merges Darwinism with political ideology.

From a customer review at Amazon:

[A]ccording to Haidt’s and others’ research, there are at least six mental ‘modules’ that go into moral and poltical decisions, and it is difficult to argue that any one (or two or three) are more important than others. And they are: care/harm, fairness/cheating, loyalty/betrayal, authority/subversion, sanctity/degradation and liberty/oppression. Some people (often of the political left) care most about care/harm and fairness/cheating in their emphasis on egalitarian politics that aim to provide care for those in need and create fair rules in the sense that everyone, relatively speaking, starts on an ‘even playing field.’ Others (usually conservatives) have tempermants that focus on authority/suversion and loyalty/betrayal, focusing on maintaining or promoting institutions that foster some level of deference to authority (in legitimate hierarchies), and loyalty (whether to country, God, family, etc).

One point Haidt makes is that conservatives score stronger than liberals on the disgust (sanctity/degradation) module of morality. (Interestingly, liberals appear to have no ability to even relate to this aspect of human morality, whereas conservatives can relate, albeit with a weaker degree of intensity, to putatively liberal moral modules such as fairness and care.)

Conservatives feel stronger revulsion toward disgusting things than do liberals, who, apparently, like to wallow in shit, (or to reframe it in a nicer way: like to experience unique vistas). So when the conservative thinks about gay sex and the penis pushing hard into another man’s anus, he recoils with revulsion. The liberal merely shrugs his shoulders. Not a sermon, just a naughty thought.

Which brings me to pondering something critical to the maintenance of our nation’s infrastructure: do liberal men, with their higher threshold for disgusting things, tend to fuck fat chicks more often than conservative men fuck fat chicks? Is the liberal male more open than the conservative male to slumming it?

Have any of you readers noticed differences in the strictness or laxity with which your liberal and conservative friends hold their standards for opposite sex partners? Have you noticed if the libs you know like to dumpster dive with dirigibles more than you’d be comfortable doing? Have you noticed if the conservative men you know are more judgmental of fat chicks? Do your con or lib male friends date skinnier, hotter women?

This post is purely speculative, because personally, I have not noticed much of a difference between men of differing political persuasions in their willingness to tumble with a landfaring tanker that couldn’t be more parsimoniously explained by differences in sexual market value, rather than liberal comfort with or conservative distaste for the dung heap of humanity. Some leftie men I know, while they preach a good bit about beauty being subjective, are quite the unforgiving judgmental pricks when it comes down to decision time, and they make their choice for 0.7 waist-hip ratio slender babes (when they can).

On the other hand, the flabby swingers and dirty scenesters I’ve met were all, to a tee, left wing cranks. As are the postmodern aka smear menstrual blood on a canvas “””artists”””.

I wonder if Haidt addressed this pressing question in his book? If he did, his may be the best book ever written in the PC era. Kudos would go to him.

Now I can already hear the liberals who read this blog whining that disgust is a weak moral module that should have no impact on public policy or personal choice. Consenting adults, and all that. But the utility of disgust is underrated by the neckbeard crowd. Disgust helps uphold lofty norms, and demands the best of society’s members. Disgust makes lebensraum liveable, and raises the beauty aesthetic. Disgust protects a tribe against being overrun by beastly invaders.

Disgust, it could even be plausibly argued, created female beauty. Generations of men over the eons, sufficiently disgusted by ugly chicks and fat cows, have done their part to bang and reproduce with the best looking women, and that gift is bequeathed this day to us, their descendants, in the form of barely legal porn and hot Russian tennis minxes. If our ancestors had all been live-and-let-live liberals with a weak disgust reflex, we modern men might be hitting on hairy cavewomen with long, dangly breasts and anvil-shaped jaws that could shell walnuts.

I mean, if you can pick up a steaming shit without flinching, maybe you shouldn’t have too much say in local zoning laws.

I have a very strong disgust reflex, for those of you wondering. If I see even a tiny superfluous fold on a chick’s belly, I get my whiteboard pointer and poke the offensive fatty deposit a few times, until she takes the hint. Protractors and tape measures are often utilized to emphasize the teachable moment.

Related, here’s a good discussion on the morality of disgust, over at Mangan’s.

Disqualifications — false or genuine — are a powerful pickup tool. Pulling the rug out from under a girl who autonomically believes you desire her is a lickety-split way to raise your status vis a vis her status, and thus delight her hypergamous reflex. The fact is, women are constantly in a disqualification state of mind: she glides through the masses of maledom programmed to disqualify as many suitors as possible, and to settle upon the one man who is the best of all the men she can attract with her looks and youth.

Knowing this, the appropriation by the pickup artist of the female prerogative to disqualify is a classic example of flipping the seduction script and deviously moving the woman into the chaser role, where she is more likely to perceive you as higher status and sexually desirable. Psych 101 and various books on influencing friends and clients touches upon this stuff, but of course the estimable textbooks don’t follow the logic down the crimson road of poon hunting.

There are four primary types of disqualification. Briefly, I will describe them here, before tackling the subject of this post’s title.

1. Preemptive self-disqualification

Introduced by Mystery, this is a statement you make to a girl that lets her know, in so many words, that you aren’t a serious prospect. You do this by disqualifying yourself. Examples: “I’m gay”, “I’m in a relationship”, “I’m not interested in dating at this point in my life”, “I have the AIDS”, “I poop myself during scary scenes in movies”, “I’m a male feminist”.

This type of DQ (disqualification — I don’t feel like typing the whole word out because my pinky finger isn’t working, fuck you acronym haters) is called “preemptive” because it short circuits a girl’s hypergamous instinct by robbing her of the opportunity to disqualify you first. It essentially reverses the chaser-chased dynamic, and upturns millions of years of evolutionarily molded female expectation. All of this works on the subconscious level. In the heat and fury of a real live social interaction, these game tactics fly under a girl’s conscious radar, barely perceived by anyone but her omnipresent war room hamster and the hotline the fevered critter has to the gina general at the front.

The preemptive self-DQ is intended to act as a bitch shield runaround: a girl is less likely to blow you out if you make her think you’re not available to her in the first place.

2. Target disqualification

Self-explanatory, this is a tactic whereby the man disqualifies the girl from being a serious mating prospect. Owing to the greater chance that Target DQ can be perceived by the woman as sour grapes, this is a more aggressive, and thus riskier, form of DQ, its risk weighed against a potentially more rewarding payoff. Examples: “You seem like you’d make a great friend”, “You’re not really my type”, “You’re a good girl, I’m nothing but trouble… we would never work”, “I’m glad you’re off the market” [just assume she’s off the market], “Phew, so nice to talk to a girl who isn’t trying to flirt with me”, “Since your vagina is cemented shut by a rare disease, I can talk to you like you’re one of the guys”, “You’re the first lesbian I’ve met in this town”.

The Target DQ is less about lowering a woman’s bitch shield than it is about instigating a woman to qualify herself to you. It’s a more proactive DQ compared to the PSDQ above, serving as it does as an immediate status differential cue to the woman that she has to do something to correct the imbalance to the natural order of things. This “something” usually involves convincing you, the incorrigible player, that she is hot and sexy and goodtogo. PSDQs are female disqualification — aka rejection — avoiders or neutralizers, while TDQs are meant to coax women into self-qualifying.

3. Handicap Principle self-disqualification

This is a sub-genre of vulnerability game, and promoted by Charisma Arts (A Wayne Elise aka Juggler production). Basically, you bring up some faux embarrassing thing about yourself — some minor personality flaw that you blow up into significance — and reveal it to the girl. The theory behind the Handicap Principle is that women perceive men who are comfortable “handicapping” themselves — either through bright plumage (peacocking) or through admission of beta characteristics — as alpha males, because who else but an alpha male would be strong and powerful enough to shoulder a weak beta flaw without suffering any hit to his overall status?

Be careful with the Handicap Principle. First, it’s a theory, an elegant one to be sure, but one that remains, as far as I know, largely unproven by evolutionary biologists. The degree to which HP might apply to humans is unknown. At some great enough level of flaw possession, the Handicap Principle must surely break down, and we see evidence for this in the many stories of alpha males who became beta in relationships and then lost their women’s love. Personally, I think the Handicap Principle is easily confused with the theory of sexual selection, but that is a topic for a future post.

Nonetheless, it is true that women coo for the alpha male who unloads a perfectly timed admission of (cute) self-abnegation. Examples: “Oh man, I’m so bad at figuring out if women are flirting with me or not”, “I don’t dance, I’ve got two left feet”, “Ever since an unfortunate childhood trauma, I’ve had a fear of puppies”, “Black people scare me”.

The trick is to admit your “flaws” with utmost confidence and unconcern. Don’t say them as if you’re waiting to judge her reaction. They should be spoken off-the-cuff, almost as if you’re unaware that there is a girl standing there listening to you. NEVER admit to a real beta flaw that would repulse most women; i.e. “I go limp when a woman makes more money than I do”.

4. Beta bait disqualification

Another Juggler specialty, the idea behind the BBDQ is to disqualify yourself as a sucker for women’s flirtations. This is a minor school of DQ that you probably won’t use or need very often, but when you do use it, its power is undeniable. Women will very frequently try to “tease out” beta males by complimenting men and judging them on their reactions. Does the man express a little too much appreciation for her compliment? BETA. Does he seize upon her compliment as a springboard to ask her out? BETA. Does he say “Wow, no girl has ever said something so kind to me before!”? BETA.

But if a woman compliments you, and your reaction is to ignore it, downplay it, or even disagree with her (without veering into self-deprecation territory), she will think ALPHA. Examples: “Thanks, but this actually isn’t my favorite shirt”, “You like these shoes? You’re easy to please”, “Yes, that bulge is my penis. Now you’ve made me self-conscious”.

The BBDQ is both a self-disqualification and a target disqualification. You deny the woman’s positive assessment of you, while simultaneously denying her power over your emotions. It is a very subtle art form that, when mastered, is chick crack to women’s status discernment modules. A successful BBDQ is only superficially a signal of modesty; underneath the calculated modesty is a heat-seeking missile aimed straight at a woman’s id heart that explodes in a fireball of lust for your total lack of interest in winning her approval.

***

DQs are one of the most difficult game techniques for noobs to grasp. They are tangentially related to negs, and like the neg, they are often abused and misused by beginners. Their power is also their danger; because they work so well, men new to the game have a tendency to throw them out at awkward moments, and with too much expectant fervor. They then come across as creeps and try-hards, and wind up providing fodder to bitches to later log into the social media borg to mock the hapless betas who tried to run game on them.

(Leave it to a woman to mock a man for trying. You don’t hear too many men mocking fat chicks who make a real effort to lose weight by going to the gym and eating right. But then, in some respects, men simply have more compassion and empathy than do women for the opposite sex. But I ingest.)

The keys to getting your DQ money’s worth are timing, context and delivery. Too soon –> weird. Too late –> spiteful. Too unrelated — > try-hard. Too forced –> creepy. Too self-deprecating –> beta. Too nasty –> sour grapes.

But even when you have timing, context and delivery down pat, you will sometimes get your DQ called out by a woman.

You: “I’m not looking for anyone right now.”

Girl: “Good, because neither am I.”

***

You: “You’re a good girl, I’m trouble… we would never work out.”

Girl: “Yeah, I guess I am a good girl.”

***

You: “I’ve got a weird fear of puppies. Goes back to a childhood incident.”

Girl: “That’s fucked up.”

***

You: “Thanks, but this isn’t my favorite shirt.”

Girl: “Yeah, now that I look at it closely, it’s not a very good shirt.”

Don’t worry. These kinds of reactions, as plausible as they are in writing, and as much as cunts will cackle that they will respond like this to players whenever one of them tries to hit on their skanky carcasses, are blessedly rare. Most girls will be too high on their torqued emotions to call out a player’s DQ bluff so directly. The hamster is simply not that rational; hence, why he’s called the rationalization hamster, devoted to creating rationale out of nothing at all.

But DQ bluff-calling does happen, and more often to newbs than to experienced PUAs. When a newb gets his DQ bluff called, the result can be hilarity (not to mention the newb’s demanding his money back from some overpriced pickup seminar he attended). A great illustration of a newb’s DQ bluff being called out was provided by Juggler in this post.

ASPIRING NOOB: “I could. But I’m not going to. I’m an all out there kinda guy. I’m going to this fab party later. If you’re lucky I might invite you.”

GIRL: “No thanks.”

“Aww. You’re playing hard to get. That’s so cute.”

“Whatever.”

“I hear an accent. Where are you from?”

“Nowhere.”

“Ha. Nowhere. That’s funny. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes. I’ll take a piña colada but don’t even think about dropping a roofie in there. I’m not going to hook up with you.”

“Whoever said anything about hooking up? You’re more of the kinda girl I see as a friend.”

“Good.”

“Good. So what’s your name?”

If a girl isn’t already invested in the conversation with you, a DQ is less likely to have the intended effect. If you walk up to a girl cold and start spouting off about how you just want to be friends with her and you aren’t available for dating, what kind of reaction do you think you’ll get? Do you imagine girls will start qualifying themselves to you on the spot? No, you have to first reel her in and dangle the promise of your interest before unloading the soul-sucking DQ.

Many PUAs, like Tyler Durden, recommend a preemptive approach to DQing; that is, you train yourself to sense when girls are about to disqualify you, and disqualify them before they get a chance. Often, this occurs during the late comfort stage of the seduction, when the girl is beginning to feel pangs of guilt about the release of her inner slut which looms on the horizon. Other PUAs, like Mystery, advocate active DQs early in the attraction phase, as a direct method for building attraction. Still others say to avoid them entirely, as the risk of delving into “sour grapism” territory is too great to assume.

I will say this about DQs:

They are supposed to sound spontaneous. The best DQs are unexpected and off-the-cuff. If it sounds like a line, it will backfire. If it sounds like you thought about it beforehand, it will backfire. Body language and facial expression are important conveyors of indifference and spontaneity.

Never DQ from a position of weakness. If you are working overtime to keep a girl’s attention, a DQ will only lower your value even more. Remember, DQs are FALSE disqualifications. When you DQ as a last resort to keep a girl around, it is no longer false; it is a real disqualification.

If a girl calls out your DQ, my best advice is to ignore it and change the subject, OR readily agree with her in return. A pinpoint DQ destroyer, while rare, is not to be trifled with. You want to avoid at all costs the impression of being flustered or annoyed or dispirited by her agreement with your DQ. Just roll with it, as if you’re glad she agreed with you, and reassess if she’s worth your continued effort to bed.

The upside to a failed DQ is that, later, if the girl is into you and starts to return your interest, you can remind her of the claim she made earlier about not wanting this to go anywhere. A pullback at a moment when the girl MOST WANTS TO PULL INTO YOU is like sticking TNT up her hamster’s anus. You are beginning down the road of building your own slave harem.

Preemptive DQs — the type of DQ that occurs before you have built adequate interest in the girl (think Mystery Method-style) — can work great IF you don’t linger on them waiting for a reaction. You drop the DQ, ignore whatever reply she gives in return, and plow. The goal is subconscious infiltration, leading to script flipping.

Mystery-style preemptive DQs work best on hot girls. Since hot girls are the most likely to assume every man wants them (justifiably), a quick correction to the contrary can temporarily scramble their status differential discernment algorithms.

Be careful about DQing 6s and 7s. You can easily blow a girl out of the water and render yourself unattainable to them.

If you’re going to agree with a girl’s DQ nuke, don’t make a production out of it. For example:

WRONG WAY TO AGREE WITH GIRL’S DQ NUKE

Girl: “Good. I just want to be friends too.”

You: “Yeah, yeah, friends. That’s what I want to.” [pained expression belies your words]

RIGHT WAY TO AGREE WITH GIRL’S DQ NUKE

Girl: “Good. I just want to be friends too.”

You: “Cool. So… you see that guy over there? I think he wants you. That’s the way to do it. Stare hard.”

In Juggler’s example above, when the NOOB says “If you’re lucky I might invite you”, he’s expecting the girl to reply something along the lines of “Wow, you must think you’re special”, a shit test to which the NOOB thinks he is well-trained to parry. But instead, she deflates him totally with the cold “No thanks”. The NOOB is now left flailing, hurling more DQs at her in hopes one will stick.

The best defense against the deflating DQ nuke is to simply avoid putting yourself in the position where such nukes are likely to happen. If you pace yourself, the likelihood of triggering a DQ nuke goes way down. Should one happen to you, one that is particularly disheartening, you may consider bailing.

You: “If you’re lucky I might invite you.”

Girl: “No thanks.”

You: “Ok. See ya.”

A good player knows when to cut his losses.

However, if you see an opening and want to continue working on her, AGREE AND REDIRECT.

You: “If you’re lucky I might invite you.”

Girl: “No thanks.”

You: “Yeah, come to think of it, it’s probably better you don’t come. My ex might start a fight with you.”

OR

You: “Well, I suppose now I can make room for my Mom to come with me.”

OR

You: [fake look of indignation] “Invite… REVOKED.”

OR

You: “Great, now who am I gonna set up my friend with?”

OR

You: “Damn, I guess I’ll have to buy my own drinks.”

This has been an introductory course in DQs and sidestepping DQ nukes. The subject material is advanced, so I encourage the commenters to flesh it out for the 1 billion readers who are hanging on your every word.

Yet again I bore horrible witness to one of those vegetable lasagnas wearing a “This is what a feminist looks like” t-shirt. This specimen was particularly nauseating, owing to the noodled form he assumed slumped in a seated position with legs crossed, bent over at the waist as if straining to empty his bowels. No, if it were only so; had he pipetted a rabbit pellet into his skinny jeans that would have been more masculine than the real reason for his neutered posture: leaning in to hang on every word a tatted, obese woman was orating regarding the glory of Aaron Sorkin’s new libcrack show, “The Soapboxroom”.

Christ, what a spectacle.

This peculiar, penis-smooshing posture — one I see an increasing number of “males” performing uncoerced — is truly the eunuch’s mark of self-denial. It is the body language of the beta male veering into the omega dreg. It is the guilt stigmata of the man who is uncomfortable with the insouciant protrusion of his genitalia, who wishes on some Freudian level he were a girl, and who has somehow convinced himself his excitable self-flagellation is the stuff of women’s fantasies.

With this in mind, I hereby propose the universal logo of the feminized Western Male:

If someone could crop this and zoom in, that would be great. Better yet, if someone could find a human version of the above pose, with one hand propped under chin, eyes watery with intense listening, even better. Nothing quite captures the essence of the de-balled 21st Century Western male better than this sitting pose, imo.

I don’t always sit, but when I do, I sit like a boss.

Wayne Elise, aka Juggler, is a fairly well-known and well-regarded pickup artist. He’s been in the business for a while, and his game guides, while occasionally derivative, are grounded in the basic reality of male-female psychosocial sex differences and thus useful to aspiring womanizers. He emphasizes the “warmth & connection” part of seduction, but tends to engage in a little too much PUA strawman bashing (probably in order to attract a wider audience). I, for one, am getting tired of reading “evolved” pickup artists caricature the neg with the same ignorant glee that feminists do.

Quibbles aside, he has some good insights, and this post at his blog exemplifies that. I’ll examine it here because his analogy of seduction to letting out a “rope of personal history” is very good, and a lesson that a lot of newbs would be wise to take into account.

Imagine a stranger next to you. They reach out and take the end of your rope from you. They begin reeling it into their arms. So long as you allow it, the rope passes from the floor around your feet, through your hands and collects in the arms of this other person.

This is the beginning of someone getting to know you. The details they learn about you in the first few minutes may be give-aways such as your taste in high-fidelity stereo speakers and the fact that your mouth goes crooked when you smile. But soon they could be exposed to a slice of your dead-kitten sense of humor. Then later it could be your feeling toward relationships. Eventually it could be your sexual preferences. And on and on.

Through this process of information transfer, you stop feeling like a stranger to the other person. You begin to feel like a friend or potential lover.

This is an artsy reinterpretation of the comfort stage of Mystery’s Attraction => Comfort => Seduction three-stage process. Women feel attraction for the aloof alpha, but they also feel more bonded — and hence more open to sexual surrender — to men with whom they have mutually shared personal information. The details of a life are the building blocks of a woman’s romantic imagination.

Now, of course, you can boldly lie about your details if you’d like, but unless you are a clinical sociopath you’ll find it easier to remain internally consistent and externally congruent if you don’t deviate too far from your real life history. This goes double if you plan to stick with a girl for longer than three months.

A reader may reasonably ask, “How do you reconcile women’s love for aloof alphas with their love for ‘getting to know each other’?”

The answer is in the conversational tension, as Elise says.

People won’t appreciate learning about your life-details if you just give them up. That would make you sort of a life-detail slut. […]

People appreciate hearing the amazing things you have to say more if they desire them first. Don’t push. Instead, counterintuitively, you should resist.

Returning to our metaphor. You want to keep your conversational partner in a state of wanting more – pulling on your rope, sort of speak. While, at the same time, YOU want to be in a state of resistance – keeping the length of rope between the two of you taunt. This tension gives you control over the transfer of your life-details.

What Elise is describing here are the classic pickup techniques known as “assuming the sale”, (i.e., this chick wants to know me better, so I’m gonna hold out until she’s throwing money at me to buy my product), and “pacing” (i.e., cat string theory; cats respond more enthusiastically to string that is being pulled away from them). There is a broader category heading that all of this could be put under: Overconfidence.

People may not consciously be aware of pacing but they respond to it.

Pacing that’s too fast deflates the tension out of an interaction. Imagine throwing all your rope into someone’s arms. There’s no more for them to want or seek.

But pacing that’s too slow makes people feel bored and as if the interaction isn’t going anywhere.

Knowing the balance only comes with real-world practice. Generally, the balance will be the same for most women you meet because women, like men, share generalizable psychological properties with their sex.

Elise offers an example of good conversational pacing (and also some good shit test passing):

PUA: “That was a famous tennis player,” he adds. “He – got – mad – at – people. Probably before your time. I was just trying to guess your age.”

PREY: “How old do you think?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question.”

“Why can’t you answer that question?”

“Because if I do then all the tension will leave the conversation. As it stands, you want to know my guess and if I give that up I’ll lose your interest.”

“I promise you won’t lose my interest.”

“Fine. But first, let’s sit down and make ourselves a bit more comfortable, if that’s alright. Then I’ll tell you all about yourself. I’ve been told I have an intuitive nature.”

They sit down on the couch nearby.

“Where are your friends? Perhaps they should join us.”

“Don’t worry about them. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“I bet you can. Okay, I think you’re twenty eight.”

She hits him in the shoulder.

“Okay. Twenty six?”

“You’re really bad at this.”

“I know. My credentials might have been over-stated.”

“How about you? How old are you?”

“Older than you. Let’s just put it this way. I’m your real father. I remember your mom. She was hot back in the 80′s.”

“She still’s hot.”

“I’m sure she is. People of any age can be sexy. [ed: female ego bait. the purpose of these pretty lie pebbles is to lull the woman into a state of reception to the man’s sexy taboo-breaking.] But personally I end up dating girls who are uh…”

“What?”

“Younger, mostly.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Well, there’s a long answer to that question and a short answer.”

“What’s the short answer?”

“They’re hotter.”

“Okay, what’s the long answer.”

“I can’t really tell you. I’d have to show you.”

This is a textbook exhibition of flirting aka pacing. Women love this sort of “pulling teeth” kind of conversation because it signals to their hindbrains that the man engaging in it is not seeking their approval. And a man who is not interested in a woman’s approval is regarded by her evolved alpha male-detection cortical system as a man who likely gets plenty of female attention, and thus possesses the genes that would give her potential sons with him the same advantageous mating market genes.

Elise also illustrates bad conversational pacing with this example:

GAME NOOB: “I ride a fixie. Want to see my fixie porn?”

GIRL: “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Look. I didn’t ask to know anything about you. Perhaps you can hold some thoughts back.”

“I could. But I’m not going to. I’m an all out there kinda guy. I’m going to this fab party later. If you’re lucky I might invite you.”

“No thanks.”

“Aww. You’re playing hard to get. That’s so cute.”

“Whatever.”

“I hear an accent. Where are you from?”

“Nowhere.”

“Ha. Nowhere. That’s funny. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes. I’ll take a piña colada but don’t even think about dropping a roofie in there. I’m not going to hook up with you.”

“Whoever said anything about hooking up? You’re more of the kinda girl I see as a friend.”

“Good.”

“Good. So what’s your name?”

Elise takes some gratuitous shots here at well-worn PUA disqualification lines (“You’re more of the kinda girl that I see as a friend”), but his overall point is that bad pacing — that is, giving away the store — can render otherwise effective PUA lines like “That’s so cute” embarrassingly try-hard and pathetically transparent.

The difference between a sour grapes disqualification and a cool-as-fuck disqualification is timing. When you’re chasing — when you’re on the losing end of a pickup attempt — your DQs will be perceived by her as spiteful sour grapes. When you’re being chased — when you have pickup hand — she will perceive your DQs as challenges and redouble her efforts to win your grudging approval.

Which, I believe, really gets at the core of why game-haters and feminists and traditionalist pedestalizers have found it easy to lampoon certain aspects of game philosophy. Yes, the neg is very easy to make fun of when you put it in the mouth of a generic, socially awkward noob, like Elise has done above, who practically assaults a woman with approval-seeking behavior and regurgitated PUA lines delivered with pressing urgency at the wrong times. But put the neg in the mouth of an accomplished seducer who understands the value of teasing women with crumbs of information, and of pulling back at just the right moments, and suddenly that same neg is explosive pussy dynamite.

All great philosophies and theories of the mind throughout history have had their old guard detractors who latched onto digestible concepts that offered possibilities of being distilled into simplistic caricatures and thus made meaningless outside of their philosophical and practical context. To this day, the neg continues to be mistakenly thought of as a brazen insult by the prestige press and their manboobed and feminist lackeys, and there seems to be no let-up to their determination to remain unschooled hicks in matters of seduction.

The Wall Survives Intact

Shiva the Detroyed Feminist locates a crumb of feminist hope amid a sea of feminism-crushing scientific studies and reality-assaulting dissonance:

I think this will win comment of next week:

This just blew open the “wall” theory. [ed: she wishes.]

sure, women may not be at the prime of their beauty in the future but they’ll still be in prime fertility at , say, 45.

Wow.

[ed: just wow.]

The schooling shall commence…

The wall is a function of women’s looks, which are, evolutionarily-speaking, a proxy for women’s fertility. Ovary transplant tech may extend fertility but it won’t do a damn thing for aging women’s declining looks. Men’s eyes don’t see women’s ovaries, they see women’s bodies and faces. Men are wired to respond sexually and emotionally to youthful female looks, not to a hidden working uterus. A 70 year old woman could be rejiggered to bear children thanks to the intervention of science, but she’ll still look 70 years old, and so men won’t be turned on by her. She will suffer the indignities of wall victimhood, having to settle for conceiving children with a turkey baster or a blind old goat who gets around on tennis balls. Tragically for feminists nursing delusions of sustained desirability, in the gene-governed sexual market where visual cues are men’s primary information medium it’s the proxies that matter, not the actual biowiring underneath.

There’s really no point to explaining the facts of life to feminists and other assorted grievance groups with real reasons to fear and loathe the truth — beyond its entertainment value as a button-pusher — because in three weeks’ time the same lot of them wander back into this happy hunting ground babbling the identical, debunked bromides all over again. Logic and reason hurt their wee egos for a brief spell, and then when enough time has passed for their self-medicated ids to baseline to normal and reconcile their cognitive dissonances, (say, ten minutes), they are right back to chanting pretty lies, sticking their fingers in their ears, and stamping their ascii feet. Never underestimate the lengths to which humans will lie to themselves and, consequently, to others to maintain an illusion of high sexual or social market value in the face of rapid deterioration or expendability.

If I had to put a number on it, I’d guess 80% of the human population is aggressively self-deceiving, with the number reaching close to 100% in backward societies and within certain ideological sects. With those numbers arrayed against you, it’s fruitless to battle for hearts and minds. The best you can do is mercilessly mock their pretensions to high holy hell, preferably in front of an audience, until some tiny illumination of self-preservation sparks in their limbic chimp systems and they sulk off to lick their ego wounds rather than face the psychic torture of further debasement on a public stage. Even the most blockheaded deluded dumbass will think twice about shrieking his or her stupidities when Total Ridicule is the only reward.

Donation Nation

Supposedly, it’s protocol for internet content providers (ha!) to rattle the tin cup twice per year. So here we are. Donate here, or (more easily) use the donate button to the right on the main page, just under the blog banner heading.

Have you learned from this castlemonium deluxe? Have you been treated with the requisite haughtiness? Has your psyche been vigorously penetrated? Most importantly, has this stone-front, gated internet retreat nestled deep in the misty meadows of medieval France gotten you laid with the women of your choice?

If so, show your appreciation!

If not, fuck you.

In the meantime, here is what the future holds for Le Chateau Sensuality:

1. A book (or two!). (Pending defeat of personal laziness demons.)

2. In-field stuff. (Might include guest spots.)

3. More reviews of game material. (There’s a pile of ebooks and manuals to read laying disconsolately on the sofa, currently being sniffed by an overfed dog.)

4. More movie scenes of game in action.

5. More real-life stories. (Expect calculated timeline distortion and detail restructuring to misdirect the haters.)

6. More science. (Sorry, it’s a CH favorite.)

7. Fewer adjectives. (Yeah, we’ve heard you.)

A reader, whom I will assume for purposes of this post is not a troll, wrote:

I wanted to run a theory by you and get your thoughts, since a lot of what is said on your blog resonates with me. Awhile back you posted in “Do Fat Girls Get More Sex?” that 99 out of 100 men would choose a non-fatty over a fatty any day of the week. Now, don’t get me wrong – hogbeasts are a huge bonerkill for me – but (and I know this is anecdotal) I’ve known a LOT of men who profusely claim left and right that they prefer fatties. Your argument was that these guys are losers – and in the general case, I’d agree. But some of these guys have appeared, at least to me, to have a lot of game – they’ll flirt around with skinnier girls and the women will seem very interested. They’ll proceed to leave the hot girl and go home with some chubster.

First, I’d have a problem accepting your premise. I have not known a few men, let alone a lot of men, who claimed to prefer fatties. This sounds like feminist fantasy-speak, which is like Newspeak, except more implausible. Now, of the tiny number of men who I’ve come across who did claim they preferred fatties, all of them were nerdy, fat or possessed some other charmless personality flaw that would sufficiently account for their claimed preference. A classic case of inverted sour grapes as ever existed.

(Sour grapes is when a loser pretends that an unattainable hot chick is undesirable in some ridiculously unbelievable way to salve his ego. Inverted sour grapes is when a loser pretends that the ugly, fat chicks he can realistically get are the bees’ knees of beauty.)

As for these chubby chasers you “know” who supposedly “have game”, taking your word at face value, I have a few explanations:

1. They’re black men.

I don’t care who’s bothered by me mentioning this, if you’ve spent any time in mixed company or at da clubs, you can’t help but notice that black men, especially during end-of-night garbage hour, are the least discriminating race and will hump a fucking dirigible farting explosive helium gas if it meant getting their rocks off. For whatever reason — name your bogeyman: culture, genes, hormones — black dudes can seemingly get it up for the nastiest land whales a white or asian guy wouldn’t shake his flaccid dick at from ten meters. Does this mean black men *prefer* fat chicks? No. The mate choices of elite black men like actors and athletes attest to the fact that they will choose hot slender (dusky-white) babes when they can. But it does mean that, absent the choice, black men are more willing to spelunk belly folds and then rationalize it as a love for BBW, excuse me, curvy women.

(I do think, btw, that black men prefer a somewhat rounder, heftier rump on women. Baby got back, and all that. This is not the same as preferring a grotesque cottage cheese rippled fat rump roast.)

2. They’re men who missed out on the hottie and still have a leftover boner.

Let’s say these guys you know have game, and spent the night delighting slim girls with their charms. Sometimes, they aren’t going to close the deal. But their interactions with all those cute, thin chicks have left them with half-mast bonies, and now they are horny *and* halfway to ejaculating. In that state of groin, some men will be tempted to relieve themselves in chubsters who are 20 pounds overweight with egos which are 20 pounds underweight, and, more relevantly, who are easier to seduce. The men are already on an emotional high, so it’s a hop skip and jump away from positive nonsexual rapport with slender babes to negative sexual rapport with chubby chalupas. Younger men who have no state control are usually the worst perpetrators of the backup biggun bang.

3. They’re insecure men who lack the inner game to believe they really deserve the hotties.

This is my favorite explanation, because I have known men like this, and witnessed them in action. These are the guys who have great outer game, who can jive with the cute girls, get them pumped and laughing, and then….

booop booooop boooooooop

fizzle.

They lack the one necessary ingredient that separates the players from the poseurs: a rock solid belief in their value. They can’t close the deal when it matters. They know the tricks, and are socially savvy, and are probably pretty funny too, but when push comes to shove they balk and retreat to the demilitarized zone where they can practice their target shooting on 4s, 5s and 6s with no fear of territory loss. Why fat chicks? Think about this: One ONE-HUNDREDTH of the outer AND inner game you use on a hard 10 would be overkill on a chubby 4. The path of least resistance is an evil that some men will abide, and in doing so contribute to the plague of fat chicks thinking they will suffer no SMV consequences for their gluttony and sloth.

So my theory is that, evolutionarily, there might be something else going on here. What if this is an evolved response to cuckoldry? Fat women are, I’d wager, less likely to stray because they are inherently aware that they are sitting smack at the bottom of the SMV scale – and, of course, they get approached less. So, while it isn’t ideal to throw your seed into a fatty receptacle, it might be more likely to result in a child that is the product of your own genes. Perhaps some men have evolved to take advantage of this “benefit” in lieu of a different strategy?

Thoughts?

Your theory is interesting but I think my psychological (and biological) diagnoses above are more directly applicable. For your theory to have traction in the real world, we would have to presume the men who chubby chase are not, in fact, winners with game. Because winners with game would not be afraid of their women cuckolding them. Nor would they resort to fucking fat chicks when they have the goods to fuck hot thin chicks.

Losers, otoh, would be afraid of cuckoldry, at least subconsciously. So for your theory to hold water, chubby chasers would need to be low value men who correctly identify fat chicks as “sure things” from their gene’s-eye view. If anything, the greater likelihood of fat chicks to “accidentally” forget to use contraceptives (because they might not get the chance at sex again for a long while) mitigates against high value men risking a night of sloppy, ham-smashing passion with them.

Chicks Dig Cruelty

Blogfly Whiskey has taken his fair share of lumps from the alt-sphere commentariat for his view that white women universally swoon for black cock and for his… ahem… Scots-Irish sensibilities. But this comment he left over at Sailer’s contains more than a grain of truth.

Here’s the mechanism. Guys being funny get chicks. Girls being funny get … well maybe just maybe fame. But say an ugly girl who is a stand-up comedian won’t pull as many hot guys as an ugly guy who has the same level of success. Because men value looks while women value fame and social dominance more.

Russell Brand is (to my male eyes) one ugly dude who looks like an ape and is not in particularly good shape; nevertheless women go nuts for him, because he’s famous and considered funny and socially dominant (by abusing social taboos and being cruel to old guys — women generally find cruelty arousing in a socially dominant way).

The “funny-to-fuck” theory is likely true, and we don’t really need to read a study to determine that. Just go outside and socialize in mixed groups for a few times each month. Funny chicks get as much male attention as their looks command (which is to say, their humor generation capability is irrelevant to their mating success). But funny dudes will, if their humor isn’t overly-deprecating, often clean up with the ladies, regardless of their own looks. The reason for this illustrates another core game concept: chicks dig male status, dominance and personality as much as, or more than, they dig male looks. Men, on the other hand, dig beauty first and foremost, and a woman’s comedic timing, however it might make a man laugh, won’t stir his schnitzel if she’s a dog.

Since women don’t see a benefit from humor in the competition to attract men, their sex, on average when compared to men, has not evolved a strong cortical humor module. Women are better equipped to appreciate humor than they are to produce humor.

(As usual for the feminist-impaired, I will note here that the fact of male humor superiority does not mean no funny women exist. I have known a few funny chicks in my life. There are just a lot fewer funny girls than there are funny boys, and within that select group, the funniest funny men are a LOT funnier than the funniest funny women.)

The more insightful and scandalizing assertion made by Whiskey is the connection he draws between male humor and male cruelty, the two of which often travel hand in hand. Anyone who goes to stand-up shows a lot knows that the best male comics are sometimes relentlessly cruel, either to the invisible characters populating their anecdotes, or to hecklers in the crowd. And when they are cruel, merciless sadists, the women in the audience are laughing their pedestaled asses off.

The darkest truths of female nature are so dark that they are rarely broached in free-thinking underground subcultures, let alone polite, straitjacketed society. And one of those darkest of truths is the dispiriting observation that women become sexually aroused by men who expertly wield the soulkilling shiv of sadism.

Of course, style matters. You can’t just go around pointing and laughing at bums and expect dates to jump your bones. (Although, if I were pressed to judge competing strategies, I would say that your chances of banging a hottie after a date are better if she’s watched you mock a bum than if you gave her a bouquet of flowers when you picked her up.)

Cruelty that is delivered with supreme confidence, bemused detachment, and eviscerating precision is catnip to women’s kitties. Glib male cruelty says “I have so much power and self-assurance that I can freely shit in the faces of losers and foes without appearing insecure”. It is the mischievous cruelty of the Joker that makes women swoon. Despite themselves, women will get turned on by the masterful application of cruelty toward lesser men (and women!), because cruelty, almost in a league of its own, flaunts dominance. Male dominance is to women as female beauty is to men: it’s irresistible.

I say “despite themselves”, because women will hardly ever admit to such crass cravings. In the face of your cruelty to others, she’ll pout and feign a morally indignant pose and wag a finger and beg you to show mercy and pretend to be put off but in the final calculation the seismic ripples of her pussy will speak louder than any words coming from her mouth.

You think I jest?

Me: Sweetcheeks, look. That bum just winked at you. He wants to take you back to his cardboard box. [waving at bum] Hi, bum!
Her: [struggling to conceal a grin] Shh, stop that. Stop waving. You’re horrible.

Me: You want to take a bus? Forget it. [nodding in direction of obese woman] She ate it.
Her: [looking heavenward] Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that.
Me: I hope it wasn’t a school bus. Think of the children.
Her: [smiling] Why are you being so mean?

Me: You ever date a really fat man and compare boob sizes?
Her: Jesus. [laughing] You’re not winning any points.
Me: Would you be with a man who could fill out your bra if he had a million dollars?
Her: I sometimes wonder why I’m with you.
Me: The huge prehensile cock.
Her: Oh yeah. [kiss]

Me: [looking over at girl in wheelchair] Would it be rape if she can’t feel anyting down there?
Her: [facepalm] Are you SERIOUSLY going to be like this tonight?
Me: You mean, like the bastard you love?
Her: No, like the immature boy I definitely do not love.
Me: Don’t make me pull your ponytail.
Her: I can’t stay mad at you, can I?

Me: The perfect lover: black cock, white looks, asian flexibility. Waddaya think?
Her: I think you’re being racist.
Me: You know what black girls call me? Colonist.
Her: More like COLON-ist.
Me: Wow. That was. So. Funny.
Her: Shut up.
TRIUMPHAL SEX

***

Sugar and spice and everything nice?

NO.

Tingles and wetness and everything alpha.

The above snippets are far from the cruelest a man can be, but you get the idea. And, generally, the crueler you are, as long as you are confidently cruel and don’t back away from it when she huffs and puffs, the sexier you will be to her. Sure, women are generally the overtly nicer sex and won’t make a habit of ridiculing the weak and degenerate, but WOW JUST WOW can they appreciate the sadistic streak in men.

The way it will usually go down is like this: You revel in your cruelty. She reacts with manufactured disapproval, often stifling laughter. Her vagina moistens. A wave of hidden shame releases a continuous flow of blood to her vaginal walls, maintaining her in a semi-aroused state all day long. Later that night, the floodgates open and you slip in like a lubed eel.

And a thousand ancient dictums are proved right once again.

Comment Of The Week

Jodark makes a very good suggestion for men thinking about marrying older careerist broads.

If I were considering wifing a middle-aged career woman, I would insist upon a dowry sizable enough to put a 50% down payment on a bitchin’ sports car (probably a new Nissan GTR).
I would consider it compensation for her wasting her young sex and beauty on fucking shitbag artists and musicians.

As the cryptically great GBFM might say: lzolzozlzol why would i pay for curdled milk when other men got her younger, hotter, tighter for free lzzol?

Good question. And one that women in general, and feminists especially, don’t want you asking yourself.

I predict Peak Wall Victim Marriage coming this decade. At some point, enough well-off men will tire of neglecting their primal urges to fuck and love young, nubile babes and will begin to abandon the SWPL-acceptable life path of marrying older, overeducated libarts careerist broads “for the children” or to avoid divorce theft alimony payments. This abandonment will take the form of either a lower total marriage rate (which is already in evidence), or of an increased younger mistress rate. As Jodark presciently revealed, dowries may very well make an appearance on the American marriage market scene. Do you think feminists will be happy about dowries?

But feminists and their puppet masters have meddled with the forces of nature, and now the hellhounds of chaos are let loose.

Petition to make this the official logo of the modern, Western, feminist, entitled careerist woman.

“I watch you die.”

Ugly, bloated Western woman dressed in the latest fashion sits idly with look of perplexity as a man in distress collapses before her leaden gaze. She even leans away from him, offended at this breach of protocol. Another woman seated nearby joins her in the sitting. The men around them rise to help the stricken man.

It’s a peculiar time when men rush to help another man out while women dawdle uselessly, their nurturing instincts vacuumed out of them by decades of feminist indoctrination and consumerist rat-racing. Another bell tolls for the West.

Could someone make a gif of the relevant portions of this video? And then plaster Jizzabel’s comment wall with it?

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