Unrecoverable, life-altering mistakes bring the worst out in a person. Psychological projection on steroids.
[crypto-donation-box]
Robert De Niro’s Trump Derangement Syndrome, Explained
Jun 11th, 2018 by CH
United Cuckdom
Jun 11th, 2018 by CH
The video is nearly universally disliked. Much wokeness in the comments,
I think the advert is saying the woman should have gone to specsavers, genius!
Heh heh. I wonder if the globohomoists understand that the harder they push this pozsharking, the more hardened foes to their orthodoxy they create? It’s best if they continue in their blindly smug accelerationism; a surprise reckoning is the sweetest reckoning.
[crypto-donation-box]
Generation Zyklon Update
Jun 11th, 2018 by CH
Audacious E passed along a field report from a buddy commenting on what he noticed among the Generation Zyklon crowd while in Panem’s Capitol.
Wearing MAGA hats in the most hostile place in the country to do so isn’t for the faint of heart. These young shitlords are made of stern stuff. They’re exactly what we need.
My gut feeling is that the schism between Mewllennials and Generation Zyklon will be ahistorically large. I expect an intergenerational break so profound it buries the Neoliberal Equalism status quo for good.
On a side note, for nonWhites, Filipinos are particularly assimilable to American culture. Our long-term military presence there obviously has had a beneficial influence on Flip assimilability, but I think it goes deeper than that. Filipinos share a sense of humor with Americans, at least from what I’ve noticed with the few Americanized Flips I’ve known. Humor is incredibly resistant to cross-cultural transmission; who here “gets” French humor, for example? But for reasons beyond my ken, Flips and Amerifats have a shared idea of what’s funny, and that likely helps grease the inter-racial skids.
AE also provided some confirmatory evidence supporting CH’s Fundamental Premise:
– Doing a little back-of-the-envelope calculating, at present around 127 million men in the US are fertile. That compares to about 47 million women in the US who are currently fertile. Women aren’t the natural gatekeepers of sex only because it’s a potential investment of nine months (or eighteen years!) of their lives compared to 15 minutes of a man. They’re also gatekeepers because there are in the general population a lot more fertile men than there are fertile women at any given time.
Women’s precious eggs are only matched in value by men’s passionate energy.
The (no)wag sneers, “If White women’s eggs are so precious, why do so many of them pollute their eggs with swarthseed?”
First, not as many White women treat their eggs with as much disrespect as the GloboHomoBezos Ministry of Propaganda would have you believe. Second, the White women who do chuck their ova to the orcs aren’t typically best of breed, so relative to the White woman SMV norm these coal burners are, arguably, banging up, given that the White men they could get would be the absolute dregs, if they could get a White man at all. Thirdforth, female hypergamy doesn’t obey Queefsbury Rules of Mate Selection; what might seem incomprehensible to the reliable beta White male provider — a hot un-hued White babe gravitating into a pitchy pimp’s orbit — could feel refracted through the hindbrain of the mudshark like a big step up in her dating life if her ZFG boonfriend hits all her hamster-shaped buttons. The guardians of Civilization may think she’s trashing her eggs, but Civilization was only ever a fortuitous tributary of the many winding forms taken by the God of Biomechanics.
Still, there are exceptions, and they do present a challenge to the Fundamental Premise, which can be satisfactorily resolved by assuming those exceptions are mentally ill and/or emotionally unstable, covered in sickly tats, addicted to hard drugs, and grew up without a father.
[crypto-donation-box]
The Miscegenation Messaging Machine
Jun 8th, 2018 by CH
Exhibit A (from a catalog of millions of exhibits, multiplying exponentially by the day):
A reader quips (programming note: I don’t reveal readers’ names if their comments were in conversations in which I participated, unless otherwise requested):
roflmao this literally looks like a refugee slipped into this chick’s apt before she woke up and sidled up behind her for some morning rape secks
Another reader wonders why this mogrelization crap is being shoved down our ocular throats,
Inter left battle of the brown uglies hating the attractive top of the pyramid white girls
Maybe. I’d add a few more (((demos))) to the uglies. But White male shitlibs still helm some of these newspaper, ad and marketing agencies, and presumably they’re signing off on this stuff too. Is it all just sexual obsession with White Women curdled by a spiteful sense of coming up short according to White Woman mate criteria?
My take is more cynical than even raw envy and resentment, or garden variety trangressiveness. Miscegenation agitprop is a central plank of the Globohomo agenda. Ask yourself why, and the answer you’ll find is located in the darkest deepest crevice of the chosensoul abyss. It’s nothing less than an attack on Whiteness, on the White race, and on the unique characteristics and beauty of White men and women.
This is serious psychological warfare. The purveyors of mystery meatification know damned well the primal feelings they’re stirring up like a hornet’s nest, and they revel in it. They know, too, that genetic heritage matters, despite their equalist bleatings to the contrary, and that nothing gladdens them quite like the idea that they are responsible for luring White women to the Swarth Side to toss away in a jizzstant millennia of genetic, and hence cultural and aesthetic, refinement.
It’s an all-out assault on Truth&Beauty and European Christendom from which we need an id cleanser:
Photo art by #Russian photographer Karina Kiel: ~ Mother and daughter ~
I’m reminded of a quote. “One drop of wine in mud is still mud. One drop of mud in wine ruins the wine.”
That there above is pure white wine.
PS The Deep State is closer to their reckoning. McCabe altered Strzok’s 302 report on Michael Flynn’s interview. Lies lies lies lies….get ready Comey Crü, the MAGAmen are coming for you!
PPS @BronzeAgePervert has published a book. I don’t read many internet era dissident tomes, preferring myself the pre-digital age classics, but BAP’s book will be one I’ll add to my library.
PPPS Additional lulz. Directly from the White House, it has Berserker Brad Parscale’s fingerprints all over it:
They said it couldn’t be done… pic.twitter.com/QTfOFYirZI
— The White House (@WhiteHouse) June 7, 2018
PPPPS Nice comment here by Daniel Chieh on autonomy vs interdependence.
PPPPPS Frequency of the word ‘racism’ in NYTimes articles, 1851-2016:
Frequency of the word ‘Racism’ in New York Times articles, 1851-2016.
— Conscious Caracal (@ConCaracal) June 5, 2018
Astute analysis by the poster: “The more actual racism decreases, the more it needs to be fabricated to keep the narrative alive.”
It took a couple of decades for the cultural marxist/equalist drivel to sink deep into the Western mind and lodge itself there, but once it did it was off to the races, and now here we are, arguing whether we have the moral and Constitutional right to keep out billions of Dirt World migrants from our homeland.
[crypto-donation-box]
Flipping The Disgust Script
Jun 7th, 2018 by CH
Politically, girls may vote as if they have very high disgust thresholds (high tolerance for disgusting things) when they prance around shrieking about welcoming rapefugees and opening the borders to the swarth hordes, but romantically, girls possess a sophisticated, honed, expansive and discriminating disgust radar. Which makes sense on a biomechanical level. Each egg is precious and if girls didn’t have a quick trigger disgust reflex then there’d be a greater likelihood of mangled omega seed polluting their wombs.
So girls use hypergamous slurs like “gross”, “ew”, and “creepy” a lot to express a subconscious Darwinian revulsion for the bottom 80% of men.
Good news, Christian men! You can co-opt and commandeer this girlie trait — by flipping the disgust script — and make yourselves more intriguing to girls. The art and science of seduction is largely a cooption by men of the courtship wiles and guiles of women. To seduce women, one must think like a woman, which means in practice redirecting the mate filtering power of women’s coyness against them.
Women can resist many forms of entreaty but they can’t resist their narcissism reflected back at them.
“to save the ho we had to seduce the ho.”
Tactically, flipping the disgust script means liberally expressing your visceral displeasure with a girl’s antics, opinions, or choice of footwear.
The key here, as usual in the domain of pickup, is delivery. You want to avoid angry remonstration for a playfully suave application of concept. You aren’t *really* disgusted by the way she holds a dripping wet cocktail napkin to her face, so don’t retch and vomit in front of her. There is such a thing as overgaming.
You want that smirk and playfulness always bubbling right at the surface of your silver tongue. The name of the game is ambiguity. Maybe you are disgusted by something about her, maybe not and you’re just taking the piss with her. She can’t tell, and that’s exactly where you want her: in the realm of uncertainty aka vaginal glee.
My personal toolkit includes crowd pleasing favorites like
“you’re coming on way too hard. creepy!”
“say it don’t spray it”
*silently and theatrically mouth the exclamation “wow”*
“is that lip gloss or vaseline? ew”
“oh god another girl staring at my crotch. ugh so gross”
“did you just wink at me? i’m calling the MeToo police”
You get the idea. Expressing disgust for a girl’s behavior etc is a form of self-disqualification (that is, you’re disqualifying yourself as a potential suitor) which itself is an hsmv mate value cue of male desirability (that is, you have so many women to choose from you can afford to blow off any one woman on the flimsiest of feigned pretexts, such as the gaudiness of her neon colored nail polish).
[crypto-donation-box]
The Cock Carouseler’s Lament
Jun 6th, 2018 by CH
Julia Allison is a media whore, “relationship” blogger, reality TV participant, and poz pusher for esteemed clam mags like Cosmo. In other words, civilization’s late stage dead weight.
At age 37, single and childless, she had a gratuitously delayed revelation. Overcome with the emptiness of her life and womb, seized by the unfamiliar sting of a piercing self-awareness, she felt a rare emotion: Regret.
Oh, she has a family…
A social media addict, she has two laptops, a desktop, an iPad & an iPhone along with two Facebook profiles, four Twitter handles, a Myspace page, a LinkedIn account, a Flickr feed, four Tumblrs, three Movable Type blogs, one WordPress, two Vimeos, one Quora account, two YouTube channels and a photogenic white shih-tzu named Lilly who – yep – tweets (@Lillydog). Combined, her accounts number over 150,000 fans, followers or subscribers.
…but, oddly, remains unfulfilled.
In a self-aggrandizing confessional, she blames a TV show produced by gay men that glamorized the lifestyle of the barren urban slut for leading her down the Plan B path.
Readers, get ready to journey across the pages of ancient Chateau tomes. Every banality of the modren wahman observed and noted in this outpost of love is sounded out in Mzz Allison’s cacophony of rue. There will be cock carousels, rationalization hamsters, Wall impacts, beta bux, jerkboy fux, femcuntery, psychological litter boxes, and more cameos to titillate Chateau guests.
Dating columnist reveals how ‘Sex and the City’ ruined her life
“Sex and the City” premiered on HBO 20 years ago this week, imprinting on a generation of women a love of fantastic fashion and dreams of their own Mr. Big. Among them was Julia Allison, who moved to New York in the early 2000s to live the Carrie Bradshaw lifestyle. She became a dating columnist, a party fixture and one of the first internet celebrities — thanks to Gawker, the site that loved to hate on her. But her pursuits sent her, ultimately, down a path of unhappiness and unfulfillment. Looking back on how the show’s ideals negatively impacted her life, Allison, now 37, tells Doree Lewak: “If I could go back and do it all over again, I wouldn’t.”
Ten years ago, on May 27, 2008, I was on top of the world.
I was riding in an Escalade en route to the “Sex and the City” movie premiere in Midtown with a Bravo camera crew in tow. When the SUV door opened, I stepped onto the pink carpet in my Allison Parris dress and Chanel bag. I felt like a star. I felt beautiful. I felt proud. I was rubbing shoulders with celebs and the goddess herself: Carrie Bradshaw, a k a Sarah Jessica Parker.
Since moving to New York City four years earlier, I’d established myself with my own dating column and graced the cover of Wired magazine. I was a public figure who was regularly photographed alongside such famous faces as Henry Kissinger and Richard Branson. I went to all the glam parties, was fodder for gossip sites, had signed a deal with Bravo for a reality show,
For those of unpolluted mind, Bravo is the gay channel. All gay, all the time, with a supporting cast of f@g hags.
and dated more than my fair share of Mr. Bigs.
Pump and dumps. But if she spoke with radical candor like that she wouldn’t be able to soothe her chafed ego and vagina. Anyhow, it’s funny that she thinks admitting to hopping a parade of cocks like a real life Samantha is both humble and bragging.
I had been profiled in the New York Times, and New York magazine called me “the most famous young journalist in the city.”
The biological clock is wound down, and the Kingdom of Zog is at hand: repent ye, and believe the 14 words.
I was considered by many to be Carrie Bradshaw 2.0. And I was happy to be given that identity for a while, but it was all a lie. At the premiere, I also felt like a fraud, insecure and embarrassed — like I didn’t belong.
But she soldiered on for another fourteen years play-acting as Carrie Bradshaw.
I grew up a nerd in Chicago, more likely to duck into the library than talk to other kids at recess. At 12, I thought I would never be kissed.
Everyone at age 12 thinks this way. The difference is that girls turn it into a theatrical release while boys who don’t bust a move drift into silent celibacy and are never offered paying gigs to write about it.
(Boy, did I make up for that later.)
What every man looking for a relationship worthy woman wants to hear. /s
The show was my road map. Of all the die-hard fans I knew, I was the most influenced by “SATC.”
Dating red flags.
At Georgetown University, where I enrolled in 1999, I started to wear dresses and learned how to do my makeup and curl my hair. The newfound male attention I received felt exhilarating.
Still delusional. Julia, in your late teens and early 20s it wasn’t your dresses and curls that captured the men’s attention.
I even started a dating column for my college paper called “Sex on the Hilltop,” which was modeled after Carrie’s column in the fictional New York Star.
Just the hilltop?
When the last episode of “Sex and the City” aired in February 2004, I hosted a viewing party for 200 guests. It was my swan song as well: Eight months later, I would move to New York, where, armed with my “Sex and the City” DVDs, my transformation really began.
What a headcase.
Based on what I knew from “SATC,” I expected the city to sweep me off my feet. I envisioned nonstop brunching and shopping.
Women really have no idea what their lives would be like if beta males decided to opt out of the civilization building racket. Brunching and shopping fantasies would be replaced by Hobbesian survival fantasies.
It had such an outsize influence on me that — even with a very expensive degree in government — I said to myself: “I’m obviously going to be a columnist.”
Another STEAM grad putting her knowledge to work. Grrlpower!
I later moved to Time Out New York, where I made $750 a week — a huge improvement, but still not enough to buy Manolos and barely enough to afford the $2,500 rent for my 400-square-foot apartment in Hell’s Kitchen.
Cheaper alternatives exist, but that would mean reduced proximity to Mr Bigs.
I lived on food bought for me on dates and the occasional bodega tuna sandwich.
Beta thirst is as responsible for the corruption of American woman as any prime time show on Twat TV.
Different men I dated gave me YSL shoes and status purses, just like Big did for Carrie on “SATC.”
The dirty secret about picking up women in NYC is that the men there are game-less marks who really do try to buy substandard pussy with shoes and purses (and wonder why they get strung along in asexual purgatory). This makes pickup a lot easier for the cockybrah who expects sex without a price tag.
(In 2006, when I landed a six-figure editor-at-large gig at Star magazine,
What talent does she have?
*spreads legs*
Oh yeah.
I also subscribed to Carrie’s ethos when it came to men. There was no such thing as a bad date — only a good date or a good brunch story.
Can you believe she’s still single at the post-Spring chicken age of 37?! What man wouldn’t want to wife up a broad who screws around for years of brunch convo fodder and has the crow’s feet to prove it?
In my writing,
which sucks, btw.
I gave my boyfriends nicknames (one was “Prom King”) just like Carrie and her friends did.
She writes like she’s 14 years old.
I went out with a prince: Lorenzo Borghese from “The Bachelor.” I even dated the British ex-boyfriend of “Sex and the City” creator Candace Bushnell — the original Carrie.
Common denominator: all the men are exes.
He was one of a few men who comprised the composite character Mr. Big.
Humbleshagging.
In 2008, my two best girlfriends and I had just filmed a Bravo pilot for a show called “It Girls” (it wasn’t picked up). We were all invited by a 40-something billionaire to his Miami mansion; he even sent his private jet for us. It was just him, the three of us and his butler and chef. I don’t think this man was used to being told no, and he started chasing me around his mansion. I finally had to lock myself in the bathroom. The worst part: He sent us back on JetBlue.
“No, I don’t do double penetration.”
[Gawker] wrote about me as much as they wrote about Paris Hilton, but I had none of Paris’ resources to defend myself. Their core complaint about me was that I was a quote-unquote “fame whore.”
Gawker nailed that one. Bonus nailing: Gawker is gone.
Then, in 2011, one of my pilots was finally picked up by Bravo. The whole concept of “Miss Advised” was “real-life Carrie Bradshaw.” It was about three single women in three different cities, and I was the dating columnist for Elle in Los Angeles. It was “SATC” meets journalism. Producers sent me to a mind architect, a love coach and a witch in the pursuit of love.
But it came too late: In my heart, I was finished trying to be Carrie. When the show wasn’t renewed for a second season, I was relieved. The experience made me really look at myself: I was trying so hard to be liked that it was coming across as inauthentic and bitchy. Also, it was miserable to have cameras around all the time.
Women cultivate a growing dislike for cameras coincident with their number of years past prime nubility (and nearing prime sterility). How suspicious!
Finally, I cut my ties to New York and moved to San Francisco full-time in 2013.
If she had moved to a small Midwestern town instead of a coastal shitlibopolis, she might have a family to love today.
Finally, I decided to go private for a while. I stopped blogging and writing. I rarely post on Instagram.
Imminent Wall impact will do that to a girl.
These days I work as a change activist,
poopywork.
mounting summits
I bet.
for world leaders and serving as an adviser to startups and entrepreneurs looking to better the planet.
How many flights between Nü York and San Tranny does she take?
I dated a woman for a while
Young lesbianism: experimentation
Old lesbianism: necessity
But dating is not front and center in my life anymore,
…she says as if it was her choice.
although it was all I talked about in my 20s.
There was more conversational material to work with back then.
That’s pretty one-dimensional.
Aging beauties find comfort in scoffing at the preoccupations of their younger, hotter, tighter selves.
Last year, I ended a two-year relationship with a man who ultimately couldn’t [ed: wouldn’t] commit and wanted to be polyamorous.
A man unmotivated to tie himself down with a road worn, has-been slut? Will wonders never cease.
Again, “SATC” and the “lessons” it taught me is the culprit.
Julia Allison fucked her life up and she wants to blame a vapid TV show. “How do I write women so well? I think of a man, and take away reason and accountability.” (Fact: the ultimate culprit is the 19th Amendment.)
The show wasn’t a rubric on how to find a lifelong partnership.
She needed a TV show to teach her how to find a man and start a healthy relationship? Where were all the older female relatives in her life? Where was her brain?
If I was more grounded and had honestly assessed whether this man was a good partner for me, I don’t think we ever would have dated.
Translation: “If I was more grounded and had honestly assessed whether I was still good enough for any halfway decent man, I don’t think I’d be single and writing this pile of crap through tear-stained cheeks.”
Crushed and needing to regroup, I took a sabbatical and lived in Bali for eight months on a healing journey.
EatPraySlut
I was also celibate during my time there.
I do wonder what my life would have looked like if “Sex and the City” had never come across my consciousness. Perhaps I’d be married with children now?
Lady, I’m certain your arriving spinsterhood isn’t the fault of SATC, unless you’re easily brainwashed. Hmm, have I been overestimating women this whole time?
Who knows, but I can say for sure that, as clever and aesthetically pleasing as the show was
She obsessively stalks this show like it was an ex-bf. Psycho!
— and, as much as I agree with its value of female friendships — it showed too much consumerism and fear of intimacy disguised as empowerment.
It also showed, if she were willing to see, the damaging consequences of slutting it up and cackling about your smashed pussy with other empowered sluts.
It’s like candy: In the moment it feels good to eat it, but afterward, you feel sick.
Women have been warring with their essence for a few decades now, and the battle has been pitched in recent years. The Slut Pride degeneracy and its various cultural tributaries is women — particularly low to middling SMV women who must find novel ways to compete with hot babes — defying their sex-specific emotional burdens and aiming to exert a false, if momentarily satisfying, control over what they perceive as the weaknesses and vulnerabilities of their sex. One of these feminine “frailties” that the modren wahman wants to purge from herself is the undeniable truth that casual sex bothers women a lot more than it does men. Women simply can’t compartmentalize noncommittal sex with the same easy facility that men can. Hence, women like Julia “feel sick” afterward, something that only the soyest of soyboys would feel after licking clean the putrid slits of SATC-aping urban sluts whilst unwittingly grinding their microboners to a climax in the fur of a curious cat sniffing around their nethers.
Whom you’re dating, what you’re wearing, or how good you look at that premiere — none of that s–t matters unless you genuinely love yourself. Solid relationships are what really matter.
It’s funny how aging broads discover solid relationships matter when they start having trouble getting them.
Sure, I could have been a dating columnist for the rest of my life but, honestly, I gave really bad dating advice — and so did Carrie Bradshaw.
If a shiv artist like yours truly had told her that when she was younger and hotter, no doubt she would have lashed out like a cornered alleycat. The ravages of time and the looming threat of insol wonderfully focus the waning slut’s mind.
I want to be a different role model from the one I got. Two months ago, I started seeing someone I never would have dated 10 years earlier.
Cue Mr Beta Bux! Or just Mr Beta. Not many men with romantic options are excited about dating, let alone wifing up, a wrinkled slattern with a vagina that echoes. Luckily for Julia, there are desperate vegetable lasagnas willing to settle for her flabby hide rather than live in faptivity.
Back then, I wasn’t looking to get married or seek a lifelong partner, and that was a mistake.
Reciprocally, it would be a big mistake for any man with an ounce of self-worth to commit to a post-carousel cock holster rapidly nearing her expiration date. Why buy an old cow whose udders dried up long ago when fresh milk is on every slore shelf?
This man is a very reasonable choice, and I’m at a place in my life where reasonable is very sexy.
“reasonable” = passionless. What every woman knows deep in her heart is that the later in life she gets serious about finding a long-term partner, the likelier it is she’ll have to resign herself to settling down with an unexciting herb she doesn’t truly love. The remainder of her life will be a slapstick comedy of fake orgasms, fake headaches, screaming brats, and bathroom retreats with a dog-eared copy of Fifty Shades of Sadomasochism, all the while resentfully rasping through a fog of regret for the alpha males who got away when she was younger, hotter, tighter and thought she had all the time in the world.
Blame Carrie?
Nah. Blame yourself. And if your current relationship with your Reasonable Beta lasts longer than two more months after he reads you admitting that he would have been ignored by you ten years ago when your sexual rejection would have mattered, count yourself lucky. It could be worse. You could find yourself spending numberless weekends at the fertility clinic to birth your autistic twins. Oh wait.
The Spygate Smoking Gun?
Jun 6th, 2018 by CH
Big if true:
Why aren’t Dirty Deep State conspirators like Strzok and Page called before Congress to testify under oath? Are Republicans totally useless? Rhetorical.
It’s obvious that the FBI and elements within Gay Mulatto’s DOJ and CIA went rogue to take down the Presidential candidate who represented American voters with interests diametrically opposed to Globohomo, Inc. The Scandal of the Century, in my unassailable opinion.
Meanwhile, the Great Russia Hoax goes on. The Manafort witness tampering evidence cited by Mueller is “almost nonexistent“. And, hilariously, one of the anti-Trump Deep State spies employed by the EffedBI, fat crap Stefan Halper, was busted on crack cocaine possession charges in 1994. (A charge which it appears he was allowed to pay off with a measly $400 fine. It’s good to be an asset for the Creep State.)
Mueller’s desperate. The POS Clinton lackey knows he was put in charge of a fraudulent witch hunt/hoax, and now he’s reaching for slim reeds to give his investigation a patina of legitimacy and save face.
Fuck him, his toadies, his benefactors, and the rest of the globalist scum in Gay Mulatto’s DOJFBICIA fruitcake guild to hell.
[crypto-donation-box]
Sex-Based Status
Jun 4th, 2018 by CH
Jordan Peterson had this to say about sex-differentiated status hierarchies:
Girls can win by winning in their own hierarchy—by being good at what girls value, as girls. They can add to this victory by winning in the boys’ hierarchy. Boys, however, can only win by winning in the male hierarchy. They will lose status, among girls and boys, by being good at what girls value. It costs them in reputation among the boys, and in attractiveness among the girls. Girls aren’t attracted to boys who are their friends, even though they might like them, whatever that means. They are attracted to boys who win status contests with other boys.
“whatever that means”. Heh. Shivvy way to say, “which means nothing”.
When JP discusses sex differences, he could be reading CH posts. Whatever one thinks of the criticisms leveled against him (some are valid), he does have a decent grasp of the sexual market and how men and women navigate divergent routes through an ocean of mate prospects to get what they want.
However, this is one of the rare instances when I disagree with his premise. He’s generally correct that, at least within the bounds of our current cultural arrangement, women have two status hierarchies available to them while men only have one. Our gynarcho-tyranny not only encourages but aggressively impresses upon women the urgency and even moral duty of succeeding in male domains (leaning in), while simultaneously encouraging men to sacrifice their status within their own male domains to make way for more women (and consequently rendering themselves less sexually attractive to women who are now their equal or higher in social status).
Women who do succeed in the man’s world can expect to ascend the intrafemale status ladder (more precisely, the intra-feminist status ladder), but where JP is wrong is assuming these women don’t also suffer an SMV status loss the near-equivalent of the SMV status loss suffered by men who succeed at girlie games of one-uppance.
Just as girls aren’t attracted to effeminate males, and other men are repulsed by nancyboys, the inverse is as true: men aren’t attracted to masculine, status-striving girls, and other women don’t subconsciously look up to mouthy careerist shrikes with the same mix of envy and admiration that they look up to physically beautiful women.
Ballcutters pay a romantic price for their aping of male characteristics and their chutzpah to take on the men in the male status domains. Yes, even the beautiful ballcutters pay the price, (there aren’t many, but stand by for the point of this hypothetical). Men will want to bang a hot babe whether she’s a coy waitress or a boardroom banshee, but men won’t be keen to emotionally betroth the latter. And in the landscape of a woman’s hindbrain, romantic success is measured by quality of vows, not number of plows. If a woman has a reserved seat on the cock carousel, she’s likely to have a tough time winning over the hearts of alpha men, which is a much more valuable prize to women than men’s dicks.
What always gets lost in these discussions of intersex status competitions is the relevant feedback loop and polarity amplifying magnetism that accompanies the dynamic when a demure, feminine women who #resists leaning in meets a dominant, masculine man who insists on leading quim. The protective instinct in men is strong, and only vulnerable women who haven’t achieved maximum economic self-sufficiency and aphoristic empowerment can trigger it. Thus, men appraise ladder-climbing manjaws with the same simmering disgust and antipathy that they feel towards effeminate soyboys.
A woman’s femininity and vulnerability arouses men and incites them to emotionally commit and fall in love (psychological states which can later be leveraged by women into stone cold legal binding). Girls who win in the men’s hierarchy will lose status — romantic and marriageable status — which they will #resist noticing because the here-and-now easy bangs with pump and dump looters (slooters?) cloud their judgment and long-term vision, hiding from girls the very real price they will pay down the road when those sexy alpha men are wifing up stay-at-home tradwives who have known no other Cock but his Cock.
I have to laugh at White Knights who think that women put themselves in a dangerous position by not pursuing a lucrative career and therefore making themselves dependent on a man with a plan. These numbnuts are oblivious, or act as if they are oblivious, to sexual energy and how it vibrates along different sex-based frequencies. Women who become like men in accomplishment, drive, temperament, and behavior become less like the women men truly desire. The paradox left unresolved in the minds of White Knight transactionalists is how the very act of embracing and cherishing her vulnerable femininity reduces a woman’s exposure to penury and abandonment. It’s no coincidence that the rise in the divorce rate, the decline in the rate of marriage, and the delay in age of first marriage all happened in lockstep with the increasing numbers of women marching into the domains of men.
[crypto-donation-box]
United States Of Schoolmarms
Jun 4th, 2018 by CH
Fapple has decided to be the arbiter of which news their users should read. The company is calling their initiative the “Sanitization Curation”, in tribute to the tech-media alliance’s commitment to not just telling lies, but omitting truths.
Apple’s Vice President of Product Marketing Susan Prescott…
I could stop right there and you would have everything you needed to know about this news story. Runaway credentialism, empowered cat lady, tech company…Heritage America and the principles established and held dear by White men are about to be subverted (yet again). To hammer home the impression, here’s a face shot of Susan Prescott:
Prigiognomy is real.
And now the rest of the story,
Apple’s Vice President of Product Marketing Susan Prescott made an alarming announcement that Apple would be selecting the top news stories that appear in Apple News during the company’s Worldwide Developers Conference on Monday.
According to Prescott, Apple News’ editorial team will be selecting the top news stories of the day for millions of potential readers.
Number of Trump voters on Fapple News’ editorial team: 0
Prescott did not say what the criteria would be for Apple News to consider a source “trusted,” but conservatives will find this announcement particularly alarming.
Last year, Apple announced that it hired to head Apple News Lauren Kern, who previously served as executive editor for the liberal New York Magazine. Apple’s hiring of Kern raised questions about the Cupertino-based company’s impartiality when it comes to news.
This is what happens when you put women in positions of power: the economy and culture get overrun with hall monitors.
CEO of Fapple, Tim Cook, is a person of bugger, which is essentially the same as Fapple being run by a woman.
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Comment Of The Week: Ten Years Of A Woman’s Best For Fifty Years Of Her Worst
Jun 9th, 2018 by CH
Does the title of this post sound like a fair deal? Guess what, most betas don’t even get that.
Doktor Jeep with the COTW win:
Five minutes of alpha beats five years of beta. Male analogue: Ten years of hott beats fifty years of nott.
The Shivster wins the COTW runner-up prize (a set of steak knives…for sharper shivving, ofc),
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