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Shades Of George Sodini

Jan 12th, 2011 by

Jared Lee Loughner wrote in an online gamer forum:

On May 5, he started a thread titled “Talk, Talk, Talking about Rejection.” He solicited stories of rejection by the opposite sex. The next day he wrote, “Its funny…when..they say lets go on a date about 3 times..and they dont….go…” Three days later, he wrote, “Its funny when your 60 wondering……what happen at 21.”

Color me shocked that another mass murdering male shooter has a history of sexual rejection. Obviously, being mentally deranged can hurt your chances with women, but constant sexual failure tends to reinforce the mental instability. It’s a vicious celibacy feedback loop.

Give some of these guys with mental issues the tools of game to successfully meet and date women, and the improvement in the unrelenting loneliness and sexual frustration they feel will help tame the beast. Loughner may not have been a candidate for Total Game Intervention, as his mental state — he likely pulled a genetic bad hand of paranoid schizophrenia — was too far gone from all accounts, but for society’s underbelly of men who still have some of their marbles a knowledge of game may go a ways to reducing the number of these horrific random mass shootings.

By the way, Filthy Lying Shitsack of the Month Award should go to Sheriff Dupnik, the craven cur who tried to deflect any potential media attention from evidence that he ignored death threats made by Loughner as a token of favoritism to Loughner’s mother, a county employee, by blaming conservative politicians and talk radio hosts.

Dupnik has blood on his hands, and he knows it. That is why he lies so recklessly and obstinately. When cornered, a stuck pig will lash out with a fury.

Posted in Current Events, Ugly Truths | 109 Comments »

Just Say Something

Jan 11th, 2011 by

You’re standing in front of a cute girl at the Trader Joe’s check-out line. You put the food on the conveyor belt, stealing glances at her as she fiddles with her phone. She looks up briefly at you, then looks back down. You want to say something, anything halfway clever, to get her smiling and a conversation rolling, with the ultimate intention of a phone number exchange, or even, dare you ponder it!, an insta-date to the nearest coffee shop.

But the moment evaporates silently, your mouth paralyzed except for the “I don’t need a bag” you say to the cashier. Another wasted opportunity. But you brush it off easily as soon as you are out the door, figuring you have years ahead of you and plenty of chances to meet girls in similar situations down the road.

The next day, you fumble another opportunity with a girl pumping gas next to you at the gas station. And again, you glibly excuse your inaction with the comforting thought that years of opportunities await you.

The same scene in different contexts is repeated… until those years have passed and the glib excuses don’t come so easily anymore. Regret weighs on you like a stone hung around your neck.

***

Does the above describe you? If you are like most men, it does, too often for your liking. There are many sticking points in game, from meeting to sex to relationship, but the one sticking point that nearly every man experiences, and which holds him back more than any other, is the inability to open his fucking mouth and say something… anything… to a girl he finds attractive. This is the Grand Hurdle, the obstacle that looms like an unscalable wall between him and any new girl.

Conquer this mental barrier, and you have improved your game a thousandfold from where you were before. Why do I say this?

Because every time you don’t talk to a girl is a failure. A failure to at least give yourself a shot at sex and love with her. Think about that for a second. Each one of the thousands upon thousands of good-looking girls who have attracted your attention over the years that you didn’t talk to out of fear and apprehension is your failure.

You have failed each and every one of those times, and your instances of failure now add up to the thousands, perhaps tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands if you live in a non-obese oasis of America.

That, my friends, is massive fail. No game technique can obliterate more failure, more effectively, than simply opening your mouth and saying something to the girl standing next to you.

Let the words flow. You must abide the words.

So powerful, and yet such a simple concept so universally rejected by the vast majority of men. See that cute girl in the aisle picking through the apples? You’re not the only man with lockjaw. Thousands of other men also stood stupefied as that same girl browsed apples all the other days of the year. Sure, there were a couple of men here and there who managed to say something to her, and now maybe one (or two) of those men are currently fucking her. But for the most part, your competition in the Just Say Something sweepstakes is laughably weak.

So you shouldn’t worry about formulating the perfect witty opener, or a great one-liner that will instantly attract her, if that worry is causing you to abandon any attempt. You’re better off saying something geeky than saying nothing at all.

Naturally, you will want to work at honing your JSS method so that what you do say is maximized toward piquing her interest. But if you’re tongue-tied, mentally masturbating about the cleverness quotient of the opener you are mulling in your head is worse than staying silent. If the choice is between sullen silence and blurting out whatever nonsensical crap comes to you, always go with the nonsensical crap.

In that spirit, here are some JSS openers you can use in various scenarios. Some of these are cheesy, and that’s the point. The goal is to get you talking in a natural, unforced way to a girl without dwelling too heavily on proper game technique.

I know many of you men have stood in that Trader Joe’s line in front of the cute girl with your mouths glued shut, hoping for a flash of inspiration which never came. Read these, and be inspired to pull out your iPod earplugs. These are your first step to defeating the silence.

Supermarket:

“I hear frozen blueberries are in season this year.”

“That’s an excellent ice cream choice.”

“I’m going to read this tabloid and be proud of it.”

“I sometimes judge people by their food purchases. Don’t say you’ve never done that.”

Liquor store:

“Do you think it’s possible to buy single cans of beer? I like to pretend I’m not a lush.”

“That’s a good selection of bottom shelf liquor you got there.”

“Where’s the beer funnel?”

Book store:

“Do you know where the pop-up/color by numbers book section is?”

“I can’t believe this place doesn’t serve pizza.”

Mall clothing store:

“You ever notice how you always get more tired standing in a mall store than anywhere else?”

“Is purple the new black?”

“You look like the kind of girl who knows a lot about cufflinks.”

Farmer’s market:

“An apple always tastes better outdoors.”

“I think my transformation to yuppie is complete.”

“Did you try the fig butter? No? Count your blessings.”

“The world would be a better place if we were all grass-fed.”

Pool hall:

“Don’t worry. That was just the stick.”

“I drink until I see twelve holes. That’s how my game gets better.”

Sidewalk, waiting for crosswalk signal:

Give her the stink-eye. “You look like the jay-walking type.”

“Hi, sidewalk stranger.”

Porta-potty line:

“Too late. I loaded my diapers.”

Just kidding on that last one.

Posted in Game | 136 Comments »

Tolerance Immersion

Jan 10th, 2011 by

The shooting of a Congresswoman by an unhinged schizophrenic anarcho-left winger with mental stability issues, and the predictable opportunistic reaction by the leftist MSM gleefully jumping the gun in assuming the shooter was a high ranking spokesman for the Tea Party, has got me thinking about big ideas. Specifically, the psychological motivations that drive the ruling class leftists to advocate for the strange things they do.

In between tacitly approving the repeal of the First Amendment in the wake of the shooting, leftists have been blaming the “climate of hate” (to which they no doubt contribute not one iota of hatefulness) on the inability of those “wrong” kinds of white people to get along with others not like them. This has been, in fact, the leftist chant for some forty odd years now, and their answer to this ever-growing problem of intolerance from those other whites-who-are-not-like-them-not-at-all-nosirree-these-aren’t-the-lily-white-gated-communities-with-monoracial-schools-you’re-looking-for has been to ramp up the antagonisms that provoke the bigotry they decry.

Logically, this makes no sense at all. If the leftists sincerely believe the “other whites” are intolerant bigots who foster a climate of hate every time they engage in the political process, then it’s counterproductive to advocate for increasing diversity which will, inevitably according to liberal logic, lead to more bigoted violence from the other whites. This is like wailing about drunk driving fatalities, and then throwing car keys at drunks and encouraging them to take the scenic route home.

Of course, the leftists aren’t much different than those they berate. We can tell this by the fact that those among them with options hightail it away from the vibrancy of the 50% gay 50% white hipster SWPL gentrified urban hood and into leafy, 5% gay 95% white yuppie suburbs when their precious tots are old enough to go to school, and too old to be used as stroller buffer to discourage would-be predators from targeting them.

Leftists are merely running status games through appeals to self-delusion, AKA PC. They need a bad guy upon which to project their own super secret bigoted thoughts and actions, and that bad guy happens to be commonsensical people who aren’t clever enough to fool themselves, and thus others, into believing utter bullshit.

But back to the leftist’s sincerity or lack thereof. Given enough self-deception, it is possible to begin to sincerely believe in blatantly stupid stuff. Leftists do sincerely look down their noses at the masses. But then, many leftists also sincerely believe that no human being is immutable; the average Joe’s hate and intolerance – through the power of government intervention – can be metamorphosed into something better, a world music listening Six Million Dollar Diversity Man who learns how to sip soy latte and mentally torture himself to find the most non-obvious explanation for FBI crime stats.

The overhaul and salvation of the Neanderthal bigot’s mind thus involves an orthodoxy that can be termed Tolerance Immersion. This is the leftist policy of immersing the white bigots in a swirling sea of diversity and platitudinal PC agit-prop, with the hopes that the heavenly light of tolerance would imbue the bigot as a sort of default immune response once he realized resistance was futile and his fate sealed. (You’ll notice in the leftist worldview, there is no such thing as a non-white bigot.) Similar to language immersion, it is believed by the leftist that radical tolerance immersion which leaves no room for dissent is the most effective way to help the bigot free himself of the last vestiges of primitive emotions, such as prejudice, racism, xenophobia, jealousy, envy, desire, joy and love.

Tolerance Immersion has been tried before, usually unintentionally, and history shows the wreckage that resulted. But history is socially constructed anyway according to leftist thought, so its lessons should be no impediment to their grand, and conveniently never quite finished, project utopia.

Posted in Culture, Current Events, Status Is King, Ugly Truths | 92 Comments »

Reader Mailbag: True Grit Edition

Jan 10th, 2011 by

Email #1 is telegrammed from “Assrange”:

What are alpha and beta fetishes?

I guess the most alpha fetish is rape or FFM gangang and the most beta fetish – being a woman’s toilet or cuckolding.

What is your say?

That rape should be a most despised intrusion under law and custom does not relegate it to the outer hells of our less desirable scoundrels. The average woman’s mind is teeming with the dirty detritus of rape fantasies, such fantasies the ultimate manifestation of their most female desire to submit wholly and unconditionally to a strong man with a will to match. Alpha men, for their part, are happy to oblige, but spare no fetish for the abomination. That is solely the reserve of the morally undeveloped sex and the diseased of mind.

In order of decreasing alpha coondoggery and increasing omega degeneracy, herewith a list of male sexual perversions:

FFFFFFFFFFFFM with hidden video recorder, doggy style, asses lined up in a row like ducks at a shooting gallery.
FFFFFFFFFFFFM with lights on.
Standard FFM.
Kinky FM wherein the lady is hogtied and ballgagged.
Public sexual congress.
FM while watching the vile pornography.
FM while she’s beholden to her womanly discharge.
Sitting in a corner and stroking balefully while watching FF scissor.
Sitting in a corner and stroking feverishly while watching F get nailed by M.
Sitting in a corner and stroking feverishly while watching F get nailed by BM.
Any of the bowel evacuation perversions, including but not limited to the Cleveland Steamer, the Pinched Julep, and the Choctaw Country Cornbread Cow Plop.
Animal intimacy.

******

Email #2 comes by way of a charming filly from the old country:

I’m a Hungarian-Romanian woman. I pretty much enjoy your blog because it has thaught me a lot about attraction and dating sociology. I want to evolve in every possible way and I believe you can help me answer some questions.

You’re saying that the alpha-monster should never get married, he has all the women he wants in a heart-beat. Who is his female counterpart? Is the alpha woman really allowed to change partners that often? Doesn’t it pull her in the slut category (which is to be avoided? – according to some other theorems of yours). And what is next up? Does a future of alpha-partnerships (or bangs) lead to the extinction of the human race (from what I see, having children is beta) ?

Two.  From my observations, one is able to have magnificent sex via perception altering. I know a case (alpha, slightly autistic guy + fat girl) where he strongly believed that the girl is hot (she was transmitting him great states of mind), they had 10-sex and eventually the girl became hot (physically), or better, BMI-altering sex. I believe post-alpha is the abillity to change anyone at will.

That’s all…for today.

For today? I have a mind to administer a lashing to your bare bottom for confronting my decency with your coyness, you gypsy temptress.

But I am in an inculcating mood. The “alpha monster”, or what we here in these parts call the rooster, has his psychological counterpart in the alpha hyena, the head of her cackling demon pack of predatory African savannah carnivores. But unlike that mangy beast, she is first and foremost an exquisite example of beauty, unparalleled in three counties’ range, and of such refined features that she drives even the most trailworn men to fits of romantic elegy.

She is certainly able to have as many male lovers as she can accommodate, mentally and physically, without rupturing an unseemly fissure in her nethers and risking the foul humours. But the alpha female does not have many partners, not nearly enough to qualify as a slut, because the very beauty that gives her the option to spread herself wide with the greatest number of suitors also enamors her with a honed prejudicial instinct, which she uses to great effect to make herself as unavailable as possible until a man of the highest quality courts her with the baubles and trinkets of a thousand kings.

It should be noted that the modern alpha female has chosen the whiskey and dance at the expense of brood, and the consequences for the people should be obvious. She spreads herself around a little more today than perhaps she did in yore, and our generations grow stupider and uglier under the misuse of the prophylactic by the lower classes.

Your point number two is absurd on its face, and requires no further discrediting but for that which I am generously inclined to offer in this forum. “Perception altering” is just another fancy university term of of art for saying a man with a bad hand has got to fold or bluff like he’s holding a pair of Aces. A man is as loathe to admit he’s fornicating with a hatchet-faced witch as he is to admit he can’t shoot a barn door at ten paces.

Now there is something to the idea that a blessed man in the way of women can exert a favorable influence upon his lovers, inasmuch as those women will feel the competitive fire from fairer ladies and perform judiciously to please him. But that is a risk I would not be willing to take with a fat woman, whose fat is only likely to grow as she succumbs to years of habit to reach for the bread and cheese in moments of self-doubt and despair.

******

Email #3 hails from “LW”:

I wanted to first thank you for dropping incredible amounts knowledge on this blog. I have learned quite a bit and think that I can outgrow my betadom soon. I wanted to run a scenario by you that you probably hear often, and see how you might approach it.

In High School, I was  pretty socially awkward. I wasn’t an outcast by any means, but I definitely wasn’t one of the popular kids.

Like most kids in my situation, I had a crush on a girl who I thought at the time was “out of my league”. She even tried to talk to me at one point in class, but I was way too awkward to maintain any form of conversation.

Now, I am in a much better stage in life; I have friends, a social life, and actually get laid on occasion. I am friends w/ this girl on Facebook, and I can tell that we are in a similar place on the dating market. She likes a lot of the same shit I do, is single, and is still very cute.

My question is, how do I initiate some sort of conversation with her without coming off as a total fucking stalker? Is this even possible? Or should I just wait for our next HS reunion?

Please let me know what you think. Any help would be appreciated.

Thanks,

LW

Why don’t you have a swig of this devil water, young man. It’ll help steady your nerves as the weight of the wisdom I am about to indulge you with overworks your senses.

First, ignore your past mistakes. She doesn’t remember as much as you fear she does, and what she does remember will only serve to your advantage when the stark juxtaposition of your present state of mind clashes with her meager prejudice. Also, forget that she enjoys the same recreational pleasures as you; women do not respond in a desirous way to men with similar hobbies, whom they more often than not regard on the same level as charming pets. Shared interests only become important in a relationship of some strength and fortitude, which should never be the case until three months in the least have passed.

I would never tell you to wait for anything. Waiting is the mindset of — to use the modern parlance — the beta. The alpha goes for what he wants, when he wants it. Of course, he does so in a calculating fashion designed to maximize the benefit which will accrue to him.

You treat this girl like any hot girl whose virtue you want to immoderately violate. Scatter your profile with photos of you in poses of adventure, in foreign lands, peering at an unseen object offstage, and surrounded by nubile young ladies. Leave a comment to one of her pics, leavened with the insertion of a neg (contextually dependent, of course). Or start up a chat with her when she’s online, as you would any girl. Always be sure to end the chat first, so that she is stunned out of her self-absorption which is the wont of her mercurial gender.

Other than that, I can’t tell you much, because I am of the mind that Facebook is an emasculating nutgrinder which purpose suits the distaff sex completely and at the expense of the stripping away of your natural male advantage of imposing, virile body language and inscrutable ponderings.

Posted in Reader Mailbag | 68 Comments »

Is Your Girlfriend Ovulating? Watch Out!

Jan 7th, 2011 by

Check out this video.

Bottom line: Ovulating women in loving relationships are the most likely to show a lot of skin and flirt with other men.

Every time I have a brief moment of weakness when I think God is possible and there is love for everyone in the world, studies like this one jolt me back to reality. Yep, those precious, perfect, beautiful women crave strange cock when they’re most likely to get pregnant. And they crave it the hardest — and do what is necessary to get it — when they are secure in loving relationships with chumps such as yourself.

This is yet more evidence on top of existing evidence for the Chateau prescription to instill dread in your relationship or marriage. Women who get too comfortable with their partners, get cocky. They take their beta boyfriends or husbands for granted and start to heed the call of their uncaged ids deep in their hindbrains, where even the hamster dares not tread. An emboldening sense of invulnerability overwhelms them, and they follow an age-old evolutionary script leading them to sample genetic pee pee platters when there is low risk it will cost them with their current beaus.

The solution for men to reign victorious over this female Darwinian impulse is simple, and one this blog has been writing about for some time: Never…

never

let her feel entitled to your love.

By this I mean you need to keep your girlfriend (or wife!) on her toes, always in a state of suspended certainty. She has to be thinking, at least some of the time, “Does he really love me?” “Does he love me as much as I do him?” “Is he completely committed to me?” “Is he seeing other women?” “What’s he thinking?”

And my personal favorite:

“Why does he leave after sex?”

And, trust me, she will love you more for making her feel this way, despite her inability to ever admit as much.

So, men, if you want to minimize the odds your lover is an infidelity risk, keep tabs on her cycle and monitor the level of comfort and security you are offering her in your LTR. If she is approaching her ovulatory phase, and you have been smothering her with affection and compliments…

back the fuck off.

Turn off your phone for a day. Decline a scheduled date with her. Call her from a noisy bar where girls can be overheard laughing in the background. If you live with her, show up very late from work a couple of nights in a week. Notice some trivial flaw about her looks. Grunt more than usual. Be laconic. Ignore her.

Naturally, the hotter she is, the more you will have to back off. Options = instability.

In this new year, let’s all make a resolution to improve the quality of our sex and love lives. Let’s make her work for it.

Posted in Love, Relationships, Ugly Truths | 186 Comments »

Fooling Golddiggers

Jan 5th, 2011 by

Men universally overestimate the importance of money to attracting women. This is probably so because the relatively chaotic, amorphous nature of psychological game is harder for men to comprehend than is a hard objective metric like money. It’s much simpler to say to a man: “First you make the money, then you get the power. Then when you get the power, you get the women.”

The problem with this plan of action is that, one, it’s highly inefficient, and, two, most women — and this includes hot women — aren’t aroused by a man with money nearly as much as men think they are. Women are attracted to an alpha attitude — AKA game — which can be correlated with money. But money is not a necessary condition for embodying the alpha attitude. There are easier ways to attract women for sexual congress and loving LTRs than slaving for years in a corporate gig saving every penny to afford a monster mortgage or risking prison in the drug trade.

Furthermore, there is this misperception out there that money automatically equates to power, which is something that girls do indeed find very arousing in a man. But we all know souped-up IT and finance nerds making well into the six figures who struggle with their dating lives. Power is more a state of mind, or a will to attitude, than a blessing that flows from big bucks. The shiftless badboy with the motorcycle and smirk has more power over women’s hearts than the well-paid CFO who sucks up to women by throwing free meals and unearned gifts at them.

Naturally, all else equal, having money will help your pickup more than not having money. But the “all else equal” is the key qualifier. If you are looking to get more bangs for your buck, so to speak, working longer harder hours to amass bank is not the way to do it. When you realize that most women worth fucking don’t care all that much about how much money you make, you understand that the road to gratification leads away from the path laid down by conventional wisdom.

As long as you make a decent living (i.e. don’t live in a cardboard box), have a car (unless you reside in the heart of a major urban center or lead a traveling lifestyle), have some stylish threads, and keep a clean, cared-for home, the money factor evaporates for all but the most die-hard golddiggers. Remember, a man’s ambition is one of the traits women love. Whatever financial reward he has earned from his ambitious undertakings is almost irrelevant, like icing on the cake.

Maxim #49: Waving a roll of benjamins at a woman will not give her tingles. In fact, it will often do the opposite.

But this post is about that small minority of femme fatales who are dedicated golddiggers. They exist, especially in feverishly status conscious enclaves, and it’s in your interest as a man to smoke them out early and take advantage of them before they have a chance to take advantage of you. Once you get good at fooling golddiggers, you can corral them into loving relationships with you that monopolize many of their prime years, leaving them splintery husks on the downslope hustling pasty-faced betas with nothing but credit card game, while memories of you haunt their dreams.

None of the below tips are an acceptable substitute for tight game, but they will add to your aura of mystery and captivate golddiggers on the make for a sugar daddy.

  • The ATM receipt ruse.

There are services that will print up authentic looking ATM receipts with large dollar amounts. Leave a crumpled one lying around your place. She will notice it. (All women notice the smallest details of the men they date. It’s encoded in their DNA.)

  • Ditch the car for a boat.

If you live in a place where it is acceptable to be car-less, you can substitute with a boat docked at the nearest marina. Sailboats earn doubleplusbonus points, and are often cheaper than new cars. Since cars are de rigueur among all classes, they don’t stand out anymore as markers of taste, unless you go luxury. But a cheap boat will open the golddigger’s cash register heart.

  • Fake Ivy League diplomas.

There are places where you can get these. Hang prominently on your wall. Ivy degrees and money are practically synonymous in the whore’s mind.

  • The expensive suit ruse.

If you are going to spend money, spend it on a couple of expensive suits. Clothing style is a relatively cheap way to signal wealth, and will often fool golddiggers into bed with you for at least a few months.

  • Housing amenities.

Can’t afford that 2,000 square foot apartment in SoHo? No worries. Get a smaller place, but make sure it has one or two stand-out amenities, like a Sub-Zero fridge or exquisite molding along the ceiling.

  • The cubic zirconia ruse.

Buy a pair of cubic zirconia earrings. Leave them somewhere in your bedroom where a golddigger will see them. When she asks, explain that you gave those diamonds to a former lover (“former lover” always sounds better than “ex”) who returned them to you when you broke up, because she couldn’t bear to wear them anymore. Women, despite their insistence, really cannot tell the difference between a real diamond and CZ, especially in your dimly lit, Quagmire-esque bedroom. This ruse is particularly effective because it pushes three buttons — the money button, the preselection button, and the “ambiguously available man” button.

  • The signed work of art ruse.

Buy a cheapo print, say of a Miro, and sign his name on the bottom in his signature style. Tell her you collect original works of art, and Miro is one of your favorites.

  • Always pay with hundreds.

This is kind of cheesy, but golddiggers are a cheesy lot, so they deserve it. Great for getting her to buy things for you. “Hey babe, I only have a hundred. Could you spring for me on that pack of gum?” As all Chateau guests should know by now, getting women to buy you things alters their perception of you to a higher value man, because they certainly wouldn’t buy things for a lower value man.

  • Keep a safe in your place.

Who knows what’s in that safe? Jewelry? Bonds? Cash? Guns? Back copies of Playboy? Her pussy squirms with the possibilities.

  • Learn how to decorate.

You don’t have to spend an arm and a leg to properly decorate your pad. Why should a decent decorating job impress golddiggers so much? Because most men have no idea how, nor any inclination, to feng shui the shit out of their homes. When you do, you set yourself apart from the bachelor masses.

  • The vacation home ruse.

Put a framed photograph of your “country estate” or “beach house” on the wall. She doesn’t have to know it’s just a random photo you took of someone else’s house.

  • The stock market player ruse.

Always keep a stock market display on your monitor. She’ll think you are a big money risk taker.

  • The overseas business trip ruse.

Every couple of months, tell your newfound golddigger lover that you will be away for two weeks on an “international business trip” which you can’t talk about in detail. This serves the dual purpose of stoking her curiosity and giving you a break to pursue other girls for fun and profit.

PS: I don’t do any of the above things, because I’ve had no need to (unless I’m doing it for my own amusement). I’ve had no trouble meeting attractive girls who weren’t blatant whores pimping for financial support. The few times I’ve dealt with genuine golddiggers, I had some fun with their expectations, and they — I’m sure to their surprise — loved having the tables turned on them.

Update:

“Silver Fox” comments:

Grifter bags 2500 Women

I can attest to this; I bagged 6 models in 2001, when i was an unemployed i-banker for 18 mos. Meanwhile as a multi 6 figure employed banker I avgeraged 1/yr.

Just said “I am a consultant”…followed with silence and direct eye contact/

Avg women cant tell if you work in mailroom or boardroom at Goldman Sachs.

Silver Fox is right on two counts. It’s often the grifters with game who score more pussy than the workaholic ballers. And women really can’t know exactly what you do in the office. Unless she shows up at the front door of your building demanding entrance, you can keep her in the dark about your “boardroom” job for years. Women are extremely gullible on these matters because they *want* to believe you are the king of the world you slyly hint that you are.

Posted in Alpha, Dating, Game, Girls, Self-aggrandizement | 269 Comments »

Trumped-up Charges

Jan 3rd, 2011 by

Women love to bitch and moan about their men. It’s in their blood. But it matters not, most of the time. As long as you smite her heart with your heraldic war pike of forged steel alphaness, her bitching and moaning will waft into the ether, having no influence whatsoever on her desire to cling to you. In fact, bitching and moaning is often a sign that the woman is deeply in love, for such a powerfully debilitating emotion ushers forth a fusillade of half-hearted complaints as a grounding mechanism to steady her so that she can make at least semi-cogent rationalizations why she can’t get enough of your assholery.

There is, however, a time and context when the complaints carry more weight. This is usually right near the end of a relationship, when she has already checked out and is now trying to wriggle free without confronting the real reasons why she feels no tingle. You will know this is happening because complaints you rarely heard before suddenly come out of nowhere, and with increasing frequency. Her bitching, too, will take on a serious cast, and the playfulness with which she needled you before will be gone, replaced by a somber recounting of grievous faults. You will almost picture her wearing a green eyeshade as she ticks off your bothersome habits that, for reasons unclear to your formulaically analytical male mind, she finds irredeemably annoying what once she thought charming, and evidence that you are unsalvageable as a boyfriend.

“You’re late all the time.”

“I hate they way you kiss with the side of your lips.”

“You never got me anything nice.” (You’ll notice girls using an out-of-place past tense when you have been mentally demoted to ex-lover.)

We here at the Chateau know the reason why she has morphed into a human resources department assistant manager: you lost your alpha mojo. Her complaints, more often than not utterly baseless trumped-up charges, are simply mediums through which she contextualizes your emerging betatude. She cannot fathom the subtleties of character deficiency and behavioral emasculation that turn her off, but she can wrap her frazzled hamster around the one time you were ten minutes late picking her up from the train station. And since a woman’s memory for trivial details rivals a quad core CPU, you can expect that she will remember retroactive annoyances from five years ago that today serve as convenient nitpick fodder to justify the torrent of hypergamous preprogramming that propels her away from your domesticated ass.

Happily for you readers, the Chateau is a one stop shop for all your relationship management needs. We don’t just diagnose the problem; we give you solutions. So what do you do when the end is nigh and the bitching has evolved into a stone cold staff meeting? Whatever you do…

DON’T ENGAGE HER LOGICALLY.

Women are probably capable of some rudimentary logical thinking in a pinch, but it isn’t their default mental algorithm, and they won’t like having to be logical when they could defer to their insanely precocious feeeeelings instead. So when you engage a woman logically, assaulting her with the facts and bolstering your case, you are actually signing your own notice of dismissal. In the court of love, fairness is a fleeting proclamation and evidence an obstacle to be tampered with on the way to the Siberian celibacy camps.

“You’re late all the time.”

“No, I’m not. Once or twice, maybe. But do you remember me being on time for the house party last week?”

BAD.

“You’re late all the time.”

“You would be too if your ten other girlfriends were constantly bugging you.”

GOOD.

“I hate the way you kiss with the side of your lips.”

“I don’t do that. You’re just making shit up.”

BAD.

“I hate the way you kiss with the side of your lips.”

“Next time I’ll aim for your ear.”

GOOD.

“You never got me anything nice.”

“Sure I did. What about that cashmere sweater I got you for your birthday?”

BAD.

“You never got me anything nice.”

“Fuck you. That bag of Skittles cost me an arm and a leg.”

MOST EXCELLENT.

The above are merely suggestions for dealing with the red flags of rationalization bitching. Many game strategies are available to you, and all are good in their own way. The point of this post is that under no circumstances should you ever take a woman seriously in relationship matters, unless she is waving a small white stick with a pink tip in front of you.

Even then, proceed with caution.

Posted in Escape, Game, Girls, Relationships | 165 Comments »

Comments Of The Month

Dec 30th, 2010 by

From Marcus:

Mystery is a great example of a guy who has a tremendous amount of empathy for both men and women. I remember watching a video where he was training a new coach, and when the coach said something about bitch shields, Mystery corrected him, calling them “protection shields”. He wasn’t doing it to be PC or to avoid offending women (there were none present) – rather, he was working through the problem in real time by imagining why a woman might behave like a bitch when a man first approaches her.

It sounds strange, but this blog has made me less of a misogynist. I have come to view women as elegant machines — machines for using, to be sure — that mostly do a damned good job of doing what they were designed to do. As I get more comfortable and consistent at either aggressively torquing their levers or gently greasing their gears at just the right moments, my appreciation only deepens.

As with machines, my love of women tends to be more general than specific. Upgrades are always welcome.

I preen. Would that the army of tards who occasionally spill into this exclusive estate reflect on the fact that the underlying message is in reality a romanticist hymn to the unique and abiding attributes of women, warts and all, and to the good that can come from seeing women as they really are instead of as what we wish they were, there would be more love in the world.

And not that fraudulent asexual love that new agers yap about.

***

Comment #2 is from “Me”:

Text messaging back and forth should never be done. He should be too busy out making money or shovelling snow or digging ditches to bury his enemies or some shit like that.

Just ask yourself if Ghengis Khan, a man who killed his first man to prove himself ready to lead his household at age 12..a man who, along with his children and grandchildren, did so much fucking his genes are still active to this day, would be text messaging. I do not think so.

Genghis Khan game. Would Genghis Kahn text? No, he wouldn’t. If a girl texted in front of him while they were on a date (assuming Genghis takes a break from his impressive harem to squeeze in a legitimate date), he would grab the phone out of her hand, place it on a table, and cleave it in two with his war sword. The girl would be pissed, but she’d spend the next five years of her life thinking about him. Five minutes of world bestriding conqueror beats 500 years of beta.

Posted in Comment Winners, Vanity | 170 Comments »

Prole Vs SWPL

Dec 29th, 2010 by

Half Sigma has a running gag on his blog comparing the tastes of proles (the proletariat, i.e. the working class and lower middle class, with perhaps some bleeding into the middle class) with those of the higher classes. I can’t tell if he’s being ironically deadpan or sincere, but it’s funny nonetheless. Categorizing the peculiarities of your lessers is so much more entertaining than watching Dancing With The Stars.

For instance, did you know that Red Delicious apples are prole while Fuji apples are SWPL? I always had a vague inkling that was the case, but now I know why: Red Delicious are oversized, gaudy, juicy and excessively sweet. Fujis are a more natural size, less ostentatious, less juicy and mildly sweet with subtle earthy undertones. This pretty much encapsulates the difference in class tastes; proles have an underdeveloped aesthetic that can only appreciate the bluntness of flash and tackiness, much like how an infant is drawn to bright primary colors. SWPLs have a mature aesthetic that gravitates to understatement, irony, and “hidden meanings”. On the color wheel, SWPLs would be the tertiary colors (red-orange, blue-green). This is because they are mincing little pukes who love to nuance everything to death.

I’m gonna run with this. Expanding on Half Sigma’s theme, here is my prole vs SWPL chart. I count SWPLs as generally middle to upper middle class whites (and some honorary Asians), raised through their formative years in leafy suburbs, and living in hip urban enclaves with other like-minded whites, often on their parents’ dimes. Hipsters, scenesters and yuppies are SWPL subgroups. Their tastes tend to converge even when their politics don’t (although as a rule SWPLs are pretty much standard operating procedure liberals. A conservative SWPL is what’s known as a “benefactor”. Or an engineer.)

Conservative and liberal SWPLs co-locate. Proles cohabitate.

If you have to ask what the acronym SWPL means, you are a prole. Or a foreigner.

Multicolored Christmas lights – prole
White or blue Christmas lights – SWPL
Bulb ornaments – prole
Antique doll ornaments – SWPL
Actual star or an angel on top of tree – prole
Homemade concoction by niece or a cubist representation of a star on top of tree – SWPL
Inflatable Santa and reindeer on front lawn – prole
Only decoration is Christmas tree in window and perhaps wreath on front door – SWPL
Nativity scenes – prole
Christmas miniature villages – SWPL
Kids get electronic toys minus the batteries – prole
Kids get puzzles, books, board games and art supplies with batteries included where necessary – SWPL
CVS brand batteries – prole
Rechargeable batteries (or better still, solar recharging) – SWPL
USAToday – prole
NYBTimes – SWPL
Glenn Beck – prole
Steve Sailer – SWPL
Jim Webb – prole
Nancy Pelosi – SWPL
Alarm clock set to morning zoo radio program – prole
Alarm clock set to soothing cadence of NPR – SWPL
Cloth sofas – prole
Microfiber sofas – SWPL
Motorcycles – prole
Scooters – SWPL
Tuna fish – prole
Salmon – SWPL
Bartlett pears – prole
Asian pears – SWPL
Barbequed ribs – prole
Bison meat – SWPL
Shredded cheese – prole
Smelly cheese – SWPL
Porn with anal penetration and loud, fake moaning from the girls – prole
Regular sex porn with pink-haired emo girls squeaking like mice – SWPL
Sluts – prole
Sluts pretending to be good girls – SWPL
Public sex – prole
Role playing – SWPL
Diabetes – prole
Stress fractures – SWPL
Sugary cereal – prole
Paleo diet – SWPL
Domestic industrial beer – prole
Microbrews – SWPL
Zinfandel – high prole
Pinot noir – SWPL
Shot glasses from different cities and vacation spots – prole
Stemless wine glasses – SWPL
Blended whiskey – prole
Single malt scotch – SWPL
Gays seen as threat or butt of jokes – prole
Gays seen as cool social ornaments or butt of jokes smoothed over with ironic plausible deniability – SWPL
Meth – prole
Coke – SWPL
Weight room – prole
Yoga – SWPL
Backyard wrestling – prole
Marathon running – SWPL
Biceps (men), tits (women) – prole
Six pack (men), calves (women) – SWPL
Children – prole
Apartment sized pets – SWPL
Home installing – prole
Home brewing – SWPL
Decks – prole
Patios – SWPL
Lawns – prole
Gardens – SWPL
“No fat chicks” t-shirt – prole
“This is what a feminist looks like” t-shirt – SWPL
NRA – prole
ACLU – SWPL
Cable – prole
Streaming video – SWPL
QVC – prole
Adult Swim – SWPL
Leno, CSI, DWTS, American Idol, Sarah Palin’s Alaska – prole
Stewart, Colbert, O’Brien, Tosh.o, Tim and Eric – SWPL
NASCAR, UFC – prole
Soccer, tennis – SWPL
Sleeps with fat chicks but would prefer skinny chicks – prole
Sleeps with skinny chicks but claims fat chicks would be perfectly fine – SWPL
Knows what the meaning of “is” is – prole
Knows what the meaning of “is” is, but pretends not to – SWPL
Paid summer jobs (or unemployment) – prole
Unpaid summer internships (AKA unemployment) – SWPL
Disney World – prole
Amsterdam – SWPL
Cleveland – prole
San Francis – SWPL
Patriotism, anti-quotas, de facto integrationism – prole
Feminism, anti-racism, de facto segregationism – SWPL
Transformers – prole
The Kids Are All Right – SWPL
“Show us your tits!” – prole
“Hey ho hey ho, Western culture’s gotta go” – SWPL
Family lives close by (no buffer zone) – prole
Family lives three flyover states away (buffer zone) – SWPL
WWJD? – prole
COEXIST – SWPL
First person shooter – prole
RTS or MMORPG – SWPL
Ford F150 – prole
Vespa – SWPL
Church – prole
Sunday brunch mimosas – SWPL
Drinking and fighting – prole
Drinking and snippily chastising – SWPL
Basement parties – prole
Stoop parties – SWPL
Naturals – prole
PUAs – SWPL
Taylor Swift – prole
MGMT – SWPL
Tom Cruise – prole
Colin Firth – SWPL
Nikes – prole
Vibram Fivefingers – SWPL
Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirts – prole
Thinkgeek.com t-shirts – SWPL
Motorola  – prole
iPhone – SWPL
Bumping and grinding – prole
Salsa lessons – SWPL
Single moms – prole
Single – SWPL
Wolf whistling – prole
Shy glances – SWPL
PeopleofWalmart.com – prole
Will Wilkinson – SWPL
Divvies the check up by the exact amount each person in a party owes – prole
Splits the check evenly by number of party members – SWPL
Kiddie beauty pageants – prole
Kiddie bilingualism – SWPL

These are, of course, generalizations. Exceptions exist.

I give SWPLs a lot of shit for their hypocrisy, sanctimony and status whoring, but I wouldn’t want to live, for example, a prole lifestyle in a redneck neighborhood where COPS isn’t just a show on TV. The lower classes are crass, boorish and often thoughtlessly impulsive. Their kids are snot-nosed brats and bullies. When they speak their rudimentary patois, you will cringe. Their abysmal taste in the finer pleasures of life is a perpetual turn-off for those who would be their natural political allies. But they already get so much shit from the MSM that I don’t feel an urge to pile on them. I prefer to hunt the hunters.

Low class antics aside, working class proles are, by and large, honorable people. SWPLs are clever neutered ciphers. The average small town prole is much more genial than the typical urban SWPL, and more generous of spirit as well. When charitable giving is on the line, or when it’s a friendly voice and a warm smile you need, proles step up to the plate. SWPLs, meanwhile, are busy quipping like French aristocrats trying so SOO hard to impress their fellow SWPLs.

Proles are the backbone of vital enterprises like the military, but they could learn a thing or two from the culturally advanced classes. Of course, being proles, they probably don’t give a shit about impressing the SWPL schoolmarms, or they at least act like they don’t give a shit. And quite frankly, I don’t blame them for eschewing SWPL tastes. Aside from the aesthetics, what is there to admire in such a repugnantly self-regarding group of irony-pimping, snark-spitting, transnationalist, post-American lifestyle whores?

Both groups are signaling their status through their tastes, so morally neither one is better than the other. They are both sheep with a herd mentality, just following different herds. But an objective aesthetic judgement can be made that at least some (not all) of the SWPL tastes are superior. (Some taste differences are just downright arbitrary, and probably serve more as markers of delineation from perceived lower classes — AKA “wrong kind of white people” — than as honestly felt improvements in quality of life. For instance, there’s nothing about multicolored Christmas lights that makes them inherently inferior to white Christmas lights. In fact, not long ago, white lights were considered gauche.)

I always advise pay no heed to what women say; instead, watch what they do. You shall know them by their actions. Well, the same could be said for the places you choose to live and the people with whom you choose to associate.

Look around you. Do you feel a twinge of cognitive dissonance? Yet you admit to yourself it is a pretty good life. Don’t underestimate the satisfying feeling of being a dark force moving stealthily through the oblivious masses. They will do your bidding.

Posted in Culture, Ridiculousness, Status Is King | 260 Comments »

“Seriously tho! ur pussy rocks!”

Dec 28th, 2010 by

Is this the worst text game ever? Survey says… yes!

“FF” left this comment:

Hello,

I’m wondering if someone could comment on my situation? I came home for xmas, and went to a xmas party at my friends last Thursday. There was a girl “Amy” there who I got introduced to but didn’t really talk to much during the party. Around midnight, me and 3 (guy) friends wanted to go to a bar. We asked if anyone else wanted to come and Amy came along (she didn’t know any of us 3). At the bar I danced with her, made out with her, and went back to her place. We had sex the next 3 nights and mornings. For the most part, we just met up at the end of the night, though one morning we went out for breakfast too.

Anyway, she had to go back to her parents for xmas, about 2 hours away. The first night she was gone (Sunday) I sent her a dumb drunken text message at 1am:

“no amy tonight! :p ”

She didn’t reply.

That night (Monday), I was out with friends, including Jen (Amy’s best friend) and some of Amy’s other friends. When the two other guys left the room to smoke, all the girls sort of cornered me and were teasing me about Amy (“sooooooo, where’s your girlfriend?!?”). I told them to fuck off and acted (I think) convincingly aloof. Then the next day (yesteday) Amy texts me, beginning this exchange:

AMY: Jen says im like your GF now. Thats really great. I can’t wait for you to meet my parents!

ME: Haha ok xmas at your place I guess
ME: u back in [my-city] b4 xmas?

AMY: No I’m working. I’m coming back before new years around 29th

ME: guess u’ll need all that time to recuperate :p

AMY: And u can use that time to sleep. and listen to my friends make fun of u

ME: jen gave you your daily [my-name] update?

AMY: Haha. No. Jen just told me how much they were making fun of u. I can’t imagine whats so funny about banging a hot chick 3 days straight, but whatever

ME: two people with mutual friends meeting and then having sex the next 3 nights and mornings is always fun gossip for friends
ME: I dont care I like the whole situation. I loved those big perky boobs, firm butt, picture perfect pussy, and cute face…what more could a guy ask for

HER: Haha. Well when you put it like that!

ME: Seriously tho! ur pussy rocks! I feel all warm inside thinking of that thing up in my face (among other places)

And then that was it. I’ll point out there were long (20 minutes) delays between each message (except the ones without spaces between them) – I was driving on the highway, and she seemed to mimic my slow response time. So it didn’t abruptly end, but still.

I can see all sorts of mistakes in my text-game, but I figured given what went on between us it didn’t matter. To sort of fuck things up more I accidently texted her “im outside” when I meant to text another friend about an hour ago, she hasn’t responded.

So, what is the prognosis on my situation? The girl is quite hot (I wouldn’t be stressing if she wasn’t).

We can sometimes learn more from bad game than from observing good game. In that spirit, here is a rundown of where FF went wrong. This case is of particular interest because FF obviously had some attraction at the outset if she acquiesced to banging him for three days straight. But bad followup game can kill even a powerful physical attraction dead.

Also pertinent, Amy sounds like a class A slut. After all, she didn’t know FF before the party which served as the springboard to a three day bangathon. FF should have been able to surmise, then, that Amy would need hardcore uncaring asshole game to keep her slut train rolling on his tracks.

“no amy tonight! :p”

Right out of the gate FF has poisoned his exuberant three day sexual bender with Amy. Never be the first to admit you are missing a girl. Remember, your job as a man is to hang back and make her chase you. Now she is thinking that hers is the only pussy he wants, or presently has access to, and this impression has surely soured her feeelings for him. GIRLS WANT TO THINK YOU HAVE OPTIONS. The threat of male caddishness causes their hamsters to hyperventilate, which powers up the core tingle generator. The wagging tongue emoticon was a transparent coda to grant FF plausible deniability, but girls see through that shit like fake Chloe bags. It would have been much funnier, and less beta, if FF had left off the emoticon. “no amy tonight!” is suitably ambiguous (it could mean he’s really happy she’s not harassing him for sex again), and thus perfect for firing up Amy’s attraction to uncontrollable levels.

She didn’t reply.

Of course she didn’t. Is any regular reader of the Chateau surprised by this? She probably grimaced when the text came over the transom and had a momentary stab of regret for having hooked up with FF.

all the girls sort of cornered me and were teasing me about Amy (“sooooooo, where’s your girlfriend?!?”). I told them to fuck off and acted (I think) convincingly aloof.

Manipulate girl friends as leverage to maximize your alphaness. That’s what they’re there for. This was the perfect opportunity for FF to calmly say “Girlfriend? I wouldn’t use *that* word exactly.” This response avoids a spiteful sounding denial while planting the appropriate alpha asshole subtext in the girl friends’ minds that he could take or leave Amy. This message would undoubtedly get back to Amy, which would even more undoubtedly (re)stoke her desire for him.

AMY: Jen says im like your GF now. Thats really great. I can’t wait for you to meet my parents!

FF has spooked her. She is not-so-subtly hinting that she doesn’t want to be pressured into a relationship with him. From this point onward, FF is entirely playing into her frame. She is the puppet master, he the dangling penis on strings. Oh, poor Peenocchio.

ME: Haha ok xmas at your place I guess
ME: u back in [my-city] b4 xmas?

Two of his texts to one of hers. FF has the golden ratio ass backwards. The liberal use of emoticons is not helping his cause, either. He is also tacitly assuming that more sex with Amy is a foregone conclusion. When you assume you make a beta out of u and me. Paradoxically, sluts really hate this assumption by the men they fuck. The tramp doth protesteth too much, and all that. Sluts, having served numerous tours of duty in the testicle trenches, are especially sensitive to men taking their pussies for granted. Most men don’t understand that sluts require more phony paeans to their womanly virtue, such as it is, than do chaste girls. Sluts, despite their propensity to give it up sooner, need to know that the men they jump into bed with don’t view their vaginas as 24 hour convenience stores. It is one of the funnier ironies of the universe, and it is what gives rise to the ludicrous sight of Samantha clones indignantly chastising their fly by night lovers for ignoring their emotional female needs.

So if you want to bang a slut more than once, it pays to pretend like you don’t want to bang her. Don’t worry, her pussy won’t hear you.

ME: guess u’ll need all that time to recuperate :p

More forced sexual innuendo. More manboy syntax. More emoticons. The pussy lips are folding in like a clam under attack.

AMY: Haha. No. Jen just told me how much they were making fun of u. I can’t imagine whats so funny about banging a hot chick 3 days straight, but whatever

When a girl mentions her sluttiness, like Amy is doing here, what you are actually hearing is the squeak of her hamster slowly realizing she slept with a beta, and the little bugger is now angling for the confirming blurt of gratitude from the beta who got lucky. Also, calling herself a hot chick is a dead giveaway that her ego is helium filled, and needs the pinprick of a few missile strike negs. FF did not supply those negs.

ME: two people with mutual friends meeting and then having sex the next 3 nights and mornings is always fun gossip for friends

Still dancing to her frame. How does he change the frame and reverse the polarity? Like this: “Hey, they’re your friends.” Even better: “Hot?”

ME: I dont care I like the whole situation. I loved those big perky boobs, firm butt, picture perfect pussy, and cute face…what more could a guy ask for

A little mystery? Now that she knows exactly how much her pussy captivated you for those three days, what fun is there for her in this? Again, note the two texts to her one. And so wordy! Somebody call an amber lamps. This guy is bleeding out alpha capital. Advice: Save the sex talk for face-to-face, preferably *right after actual sex*. You sound like a needy, and slightly creepy, chump here. “Picture perfect”? Painful.

HER: Haha. Well when you put it like that!

Ok, she gives him what he thinks is a positive reply to his bawdy wooing, (but which is in actuality the type of non-flirty verbal ejaculation you would hear from a woman who is temporarily stunned into disbelief by an egregious display of betatude). And of course, like a happy little puppy, he humps her leg:

ME: Seriously tho! ur pussy rocks! I feel all warm inside thinking of that thing up in my face (among other places)

The nail in the coffin. What aphorism comes to mind?… oh yeah, don’t count your boobies before they hatch. Or: past performance is no guarantee of future results.

“Seriously tho! ur pussy rocks!” might be the greatest game-killing line ever uttered in history. What makes it so great is that in the right context, it could double as a *most excellent* alpha neg, akin to “bring the movies“. What’s the right context? Like perhaps in the glow of post-coital bliss. Or the next morning, sent like a dangling modifier minus the emoticon, and no other texts afterward no matter how she replied. Had FF done that I bet he would be enjoying another three day bangout with Amy.

FF thought that three days of sex would imply a margin of error to fuck up any follow through game. But most girls in this day and age who aren’t virgins are not locked down by a weekend of sex. Simple penetration won’t cut it anymore to win the hearts of our current crop of aggrohos. Now if FF had had three *months* of sex with Amy plus one morning of her staring at him with concern in her big, limpid eyes fretting that she wishes FF would say more pillow talk so that she knows he feels as much for her as she does for him…

THEN he’d be riding a margin for error so wide he could fart in his cupped hand and share the gas of love with her.

Come to think of it, cupping farts and assaulting a girlfriend’s nose with the captured effluvium is not really beta, is it? No, no it isn’t.

FF’s text “game” should serve as a good example of how badly direct game can fail when wielded clumsily, or in the wrong context. Moral of the story: Sex is no substitute for game, especially when dealing with sluts for whom sex is as consequential as taking a dump.

Posted in Beta, Game, Sluts, Tool Time | 193 Comments »

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