The Goodbye, America photo series now has its own website. Drop by, admire the purity of decline, and leave a comment as evidence that you were there when America started to swirl the drain. A future addition called the “poolside meter” will rank the month’s best photos and comments.
Given the epidemic of American women disfiguring their bodies with vats of blotchy ink, a man should have at his disposal some tasty tattoo negs to stir hamsters from their slumbers.
A reader offers,
“Cool tattoo. *squeeze your eyes to see better* What’s that supposed to be?”
Nice. Subtle and classy. Another theme on this is to mistake her tattoo for something else, preferably something unflattering. For instance, if she has a tiger tat:
“Cool tattoo. I’ve always liked mongooses.”
For a really suggestive dig on chicks with superslut tats, like stars around their crotches or tramp stamps:
“Cool tattoo. Very brave.”
If on the off chance you get a “What’s that supposed to mean?” instead of a confused “Thanks?”, take care to avoid being put in the defensive crouch. “You’ll still be rocking that tattoo when you’re 80. Props.”
One of the more amusing private pains-turned-public spectacle to leak out of an internet pustule recently graced the combox of Reddit (/r/relationship). A sexually deprived married man (but I repeat myself) crafted a meticulous spreadsheet documenting the number of times his wife denied him sex and the excuses she gave each time. He then emailed this “unspread”sheet to his wife while she was away on business (red flag right there). She went public with it, hoping to both shame her thirsty hubby and to trawl for advice from male feminists that would rub the fur of her hamster with the grain.
For those keeping score, that’s three marital congresses out of twenty-eight attempts, for an 11% successful lay ratio.
An 11% lay ratio is pretty good for the average single beta male picking up girls (1 out of 10 approaches yields sex), but horrible for a married man who pledged his freedom, natural polygynous urge, and HALF to a woman who presumably loves her husband unto death, and who tacitly agreed by signing the marriage contract to offer her body on a regular basis to him.
But as visitors to Chateau Heartiste know, marriage is no respite from the perpetually clanking meat machine of the sexual market. If you recline into complacently dull beta maleness, you will lose your wife’s desire to please you as readily as you would lose a girlfriend’s, or a fling’s, desire. Worse, if you make the mistake of thinking that marriage will energize your wife’s sexual cravings beyond the limp gestures she had exhibited toward you pre-marriage, you’ll learn soon enough that the line that is dotted is not the ‘gine that is prodded.
No marriage contract in the world is sufficiently coercive to wrest sexual desire from the limbic node of a woman’s arousal center. Sexual desire is an animal instinct that predates legal fictions or social expectation. If the animal slumbers, “talking it out” or making it promises won’t rouse it to rutting; the animal must be confronted on its own terms, with equally primal cues that waken its instinct to mate.
The trope of the married man reduced to begging for sex from his wife stricken with yet another “headache” is a stereotype for a reason. These things hardly ever materialize out of thin air. But exactly how many married men labor in the purgatory known as the thirstzone? Numbers are hard to come by, although General Social Survey wizards have played the contrarian and dug up data suggesting married men have slightly more sex on average than unmarried men.
The problem with that survey data, beyond the inherent flaws of self-reporting and social expectation bias (and burning shame), is that the huge swell of omega and lesser beta single men who suffer involuntary celibate lives greatly skews the stats to promote an illusion that married men enjoy a cornucopia of sex (with one woman, let it be reminded). This incel ballast must be jettisoned to get a truer picture of what kind of sex lives married men actually enjoy. If the typical married man gets laid once per month (as our pubic flogging victim above has documented), then a more accurate assessment of his bounty would come from comparison to unmarried men who aren’t hopeless sex market rejects.
Compared to an incel, once per month married sex sounds like a pretty good deal. Compared to single men with girlfriends, fuck buddies, and flings tossed in for flavor, once per month sex sounds like painful blue balls. Ask any single man what a year-long relationship with a hot girlfriend is like, and he’ll tell you it’s a copulation carnival. His married buddies will turn green with envy.
As often surfaces on megafeminist sites like Reddit, hackneyed hackers and bromide belchers rush to fill the void of useful advice with Hivemind-approved diagnoses that abjure the wife of even the tiniest bit of responsibility for her role in her husband’s desperate sexual deprivation. Two common refrains — the husband isn’t doing enough to “support” his wife, and the wife has “low libido” — receive rounds of applause from the benighted.
These are handy rationalizations without a scintilla of realistic relevancy. In the real world, husbands who support the shit out of their wives are often less sexually rewarded than husbands who follow a program of benevolent sexism. And no scientist has yet, to my satisfaction, proven that there is an epidemic of pathologically low libido among married women. What is much more likely is that married men are, or become, less sexually stimulating to their wives, and the infamous “low libidio” of their wives is nothing more than selective female libido. Divorcee tell-alls revel in confessions of rejuventated sex lives once the beta provider hubby package was sent adrift.
A married man stuck in the thirstzone is not without options. Mistresses have traditionally been outlets for such men, and the culture used to give a wink and a nod to such arrangements, because the culture used to have a healthy and normal appreciation and acceptance of innate sex differences, before everything turned to poopytalk and hamster fuel.
There, too, is the advice offered by this very outpost of recivilization: A dab of dread will make legs spread. The poor sexless husband who attempted to shame his wife into fulfilling his most basic need in a marriage has, by accounts, ended all contact with her. Radio silence, while not the ideal solution to such crises of the cunt, is better than abject mewling and prone apologia. It has, at the least, made his wife think so hard about her lack of desire for her husband that she has taken to an internet forum full of spergs to find serenity now.
Dread game works, but only if the timing and execution occur before betatization has metastasized. A husband who repulses his wife is in a sorry position from which no remedy will work within a time frame not measured in years. The unspreadsheet man had undoubtedly been suffering months, perhaps years, of sexual isolation from his wife before he became so desperate that he felt it necessary to painstakingly chronicle his pain and accost her with it while she was at a hotel bar thinking about unleashing her inner bed fiend with a business associate.
At that late stage, any active effort to reverse his misfortune would be perceived as spite by his carnally estranged wife, stemming from a place of hurt and neediness. Perception is king in the mating arena, and butthurtness is kryptonite to women’s horny levels. The proper dose of dread needed to be delivered earlier, under circumstances less likely to be confused for vengeance.
The most effective punishment for a sexually withdrawing wife is punishment that can be construed as inadvertent. A woman is validated equally by intentional punishment as by intentional reward; both tell her “I’m so desired I rouse my husband to flattery and to retribution.” And a validated woman is an unpliable woman.
But punishment that appears almost “off-hand”, or apathetic and callous, is gold. This is the kind of punishment of female misbehavior (and, yes, denial of historically regarded marital duties counts as misbehavior) that strikes wee hamster nerves. It’s the punishment of indifference that follows when a husband’s mind has started wandering to thoughts of other women. The classic “late night phone call to wife with girls laughing in the background” ploy is an example of indifference punishment.
Wives can handle being punished when it validates their higher status. Cause-and-effect kneejerk punishment won’t rattle their self-possession or shake them into suddenly renewed desire. But no woman, wifed up or not, can handle being an afterthought to her man without compensating for her perceived demotion with reinvigorated lust.
This type of “punishment by gradually escalated indifference” of wayward wives/girlfriends — what a reader suggested can be called the “De-escalation Ladder” — will feature in a future post.
PS: Here’s an example from real life of “accidental” dread game in action.
The Anti-Gnostic comments a lot over at Cheap Chalupas headquarters, and he (best guess) is usually good for a pithy shiv.
How the market prices white neighbors is one of those economic phenomena that economists’ wives understand better than they do.
There are a lot of things non-economists understand better than economists, not because economists are dumb, but because economists are superfluously smart and cursed with an addiction to hyper-rationalize their faulty feelgood priors.
Liberals are gloating over the recent editorial choices to geld Thor and race cuck Captain America. The former will become Whor, the female Thor, and the latter will become Captain Gibsmedat, the numinous negro who saves the right kinds of white people from the wrong kinds of white people.
I kid, I kid… you not. The last time I read a comic I was 7. I don’t get the appeal of the genre to grown men with, presumably, descended testes. Nevertheless, the anti-white male animus driving these character changes that have shocked and delighted and stirred the quivering anuses of the comic book reading community are yet one more telling detail of America’s decline.
The decline is in the details.
One common thread to most of these anti-white male insurgencies is the cast of goons and misfits running the show into the ground. Take a look at this face shot of the fat white liberal quasi-male named Devin Faraci, who dribbled a premenstrual snarkstain titled “Sorry White People, Captain America is Black Now.”
Hat tip, League of Extraordinary Sadists.
The fat white liberal face is archetypal. These race traitors all have a “look”, don’t they? Genetics, perhaps, or just a lifetime spent wiping orange Cheetostaches off their porcine mugs. Look at that faggot. He could double as an old lesbian halfway through her hormonal replacement therapy. If ever a face looked as if it was born to have a fist buried in it, Faraci has it.
The anti-white liberal white male is the most loathsome of creatures. More despicable than the minorities he jerks off to, because he fulminates a credo at 180 degree odds with his chosen lifestyle for status whoring feels. Hypocritical, smug, and you just know the first to run from a fight, gathering his skirt up and shrieking like a little girl.
I wonder about the demographics of this pigman’s neighborhood? Anyone care to investigate? I might put up a post in future called “The Leftoid List”, with the names of infamous anti-white leftoid equalist turds juxtaposed with the race demographics of their immediate neighborhoods. Should be illuminating.
Once again, ❤science❤ has entered, stage right, as a supporting cast member of Chateau Heartiste’s magnum opus. Once again, you won’t be led astray if you embrace CH observations as your own. You could say there’s a Heartiste Rule in effect at this happy hurting ground: 80% of keen-eyed CH lessons drawn from field experience are in short order confirmed by empirical rigor. The remaining 20% either await scientific vindication, or are too nuanced to mimic in the laboratory without great difficulty or unethical experimental tactics.
The latest salvo from science supports (right on cue!) the knowledge contained within a Heartistian Horcrux that the sexes perceive looks differently and are, as a result, affected by the physical attractiveness of the opposite sex differently.
In a series of interesting experiments measuring selective attention for beautiful people, it was discovered that,
When we strained our subjects’ attentional capacities, we found exactly what I had suspected several decades before: Men overestimated the number of beautiful women (though their estimates of handsome men were unaffected). Female subjects also overestimated the frequency of gorgeous women in the rapidly presented crowds, but they did not overestimate the frequency of handsome men. The whole body of findings points to a simple conclusion about beautiful women: They capture everyone’s attention and monopolize downstream cognitive processes. The conclusion about handsome men is different: They grab women’s eyes but do not hold their minds; good-looking guys quickly get washed out of the stream of mental processing.
This is in line with what we have been saying here for some time: Women are essentially less viscerally affected by good male looks than men are affected by good female looks. And whatever effect male handsomeness has on women’s senses is dissipated much faster from their mental landscapes than female beauty is expunged from men’s mental landscapes. This beautiful truth has far-reaching implications for practitioners of the crimson arts.
In our first study, [we] asked people to judge an average-looking woman after being exposed to one of two series of other women. Half the participants judged the target woman after seeing a series of unusually beautiful women; the other half judged her after seeing a series of average-looking women. As in the case of exposure to extremes of water temperature, exposure to extremes of physical appearance affected people’s judgments of what was average. As we had predicted, an average-looking woman was judged significantly uglier than normal if the subjects had just been gazing at a series of beauties.
And as game theorists will tell you, a charming man will be judged more attractive than he is if the woman in his company had just been hanging out with a bunch of boring betas.
Subjects in the control group first judged the artistic merit of abstract paintings such as Josef Albers’s Homage to the Square. The men in the experimental group saw centerfolds from Playboy and Penthouse; the women saw handsome naked men from Playgirl. After they had looked at either paintings or centerfolds, we asked our participants to rate their feelings about their current relationship partners. Again, there was a cover story — that psychologists were divided on whether being in a relationship opened people up to new aesthetic experiences or made them less open to novelty. To test which side was right, we told them, we needed to know about the extent to which their reported level of commitment depended on whether they had seen centerfolds.
Once again, the results displayed a curious gender difference:
Men who had viewed the centerfolds rated themselves as less in love with their partners; women’s judgments of their partners were not so easily swayed.
Once again, we see that male looks don’t compel nearly the same aroused urgency from women that female looks compel from men. Or, when women cheat, it’s not usually because they found a handsomer lover; it’s because the man they’re with stopped exciting them with their personalities.
The harmful side effect for guys … is this: Real women … do not look as attractive once the mind has been calibrated to assume the centerfolds are normal. And for guys in relationships, exposure to beautiful photos undermines their feelings about the real flesh-and-blood women with whom their lives are actually intertwined.
No this is the PC interpretation. More precisely, limited options and exclusion from beautiful women calibrates men’s minds to assume “real women” are prettier than they are.
But lest we’re too quick to assume men are the only ones who conform to the worst of their gender’s stereotypes, women didn’t fare much better when the experiment was repeated with power rather than beauty as the variable:
Seeing a series of socially dominant men undermined women’s commitment, just as seeing attractive women had done to men’s.
CARDIAC ARREST goes the feminist and manboob hamsters. Recall a very early post from the Chateau archives:
As I’ve written before, what men like in women is simple. In descending order of importance, here are the female attractiveness traits that men desire in women:
In descending order of importance, here are the male attractiveness traits that women desire in men:
Psychosocial dominance (game).
Men dig beauty.
Chicks dig power.
The rest is commentary.
And what a shitstorm of commentary it has been in the interim! Feminists and bitter beta males both heaving sandbags of rationalizations and wishful thinking and earnest platitudes against the ramparts so that they may bunker down and avoid dealing with these eternal earthy truths about the different sexual natures of men and women.
So what’s a mortal to do [about sensory overload and adaptation]? Are we helpless in the face of our evolved mechanisms, which may lead us astray without our conscious awareness? Not completely. People who understand the dangers of overabundant fats and sugars can control their diets. People who understand the dangers of an overabundant diet of mass-media images can stop gorging on Playboy, People, Sex and the City, or Dancing with the Stars.
Good god, this is some realtalk right here. Just as fatties can keep crap food out of their homes, the loveless and love-hungry can keep porn — the male and female versions of it — out of theirs.
It’s two for one day at Le Chateau, so here’s another recent relevant study that finds partner physical attractiveness is less important as a predictor of women’s marital satisfaction.
Do men value physical attractiveness in a mate more than women? Scientists in numerous disciplines believe that they do, but recent research using speed-dating paradigms suggests that males and females are equally influenced by physical attractiveness when choosing potential mates. Nevertheless, the premise of the current work is that sex differences in the importance of physical attractiveness are most likely to emerge in research on long-term relationships. Accordingly, the current work drew from 4 independent, longitudinal studies to examine sex differences in the implications of partner physical attractiveness for trajectories of marital satisfaction. In all 4 studies, both partners’ physical attractiveness was objectively rated at baseline, and both partners reported their marital satisfaction up to 8 times over the first 4 years of marriage. Whereas husbands were more satisfied at the beginning of the marriage and remained more satisfied over the next 4 years to the extent that they had an attractive wife, wives were no more or less satisfied initially or over the next 4 years to the extent that they had an attractive husband. Most importantly, a direct test indicated that partner physical attractiveness played a larger role in predicting husbands’ satisfaction than predicting wives’ satisfaction. These findings strengthen support for the idea that sex differences in self-reported preferences for physical attractiveness do have implications for long-term relationship outcomes.
Happy wife, happy life? Happy husband, stronger lovin’. Husbands have a responsibility to provide emotional and material support. Wives have a responsibility to provide beauty and sexual support. If either party reneges on their end of the deal — the equivalent of the dull, withdrawn, couch potato husband is the fat, unfeminine, nag wife — then the deal is severed, in practice if not in procedure. This is as decisive an IF-THEN statement as you’ll come across in the realm of human social interaction.
Men, know that your dominance and self-confidence are your passage to bangkunt. Women, know that your youth, beauty and slender hourglass figures are your passage to bangkok. The losers in life will wail and rend their XXXXL muu-muus disclaiming this romantic reality, but after a million terabytes and a billion snarled memes they are still on their knees, receiving a hot load of ostracism and despair from the winners at the party they desperately, secretly yearn to join.
Three for one, baby! Reader Will passes along another study that used MRIs to peer deep into male and female brains to discover the elemental neural processes at work when an attractive member of the opposite sex is in view.
Apologies (not too sorry) for this off-topic. Not sure if CH or anyone else has read this (probably). But it’s *science* that shows that guys are biologically wired to be *motivated* (read: boner) for visual ques (read tits and an ass) moreso than girls. This is an MRI being done on the brain that shows the amygdala is fired moreso in guys than girls when sexyness is visually seen.
This can be interpreted as how guys don’t care so much about status because the blood is rushed to our amygdala based on visual…. Not comparative social relations (such as power). Girls thus have more blood focusing on other parts of there brain such as which guy will give me higher status in terms of my social context.
Quoting the study results,
The emotion control center of the brain, the amygdala, shows significantly higher levels of activation in males viewing sexual visual stimuli than females viewing the same images, according to a Center for Behavioral Neuroscience study led by Emory University psychologists Stephan Hamann and Kim Wallen. The finding, which appears in the April edition of “Nature Neuroscience,” demonstrates how men and women process visual sexual stimuli differently, and it may explain gender variations in reproductive behavior. [...]
The fMRI scans revealed significantly higher levels of activation in the amygdala, which controls emotion and motivation, in the brains of the male subjects compared to the females, despite the fact that both males and females expressed similar subjective assessments of their levels of arousal after viewing the images.
Hamann and Wallen had a separate group pre-select the images to ensure they would be equally arousing to both males and females.
“If males and females found the pictures equally arousing, you would assume they would have similar patterns of brain activation,” said Hamann. “But we discovered the male brain seems to process visual sexual cues differently.”
The scientists’ discovery also is consistent with an evolutionary theory that natural selection spurred the development of different sexual behaviors in males and females.
“There is an advantage for males in quickly recognizing and responding to receptive females through visual cues,” explains Hamann. “This allows them to maximize their mating opportunities, which increases their chances for passing on their genes.”
Another CH truth lovingly caressed by SCIENCE. And this is a humdinger of science, because it directly measured brain activation rather than indirectly through surveys or behavioral analysis.
Men are more viscerally aroused by female looks than are women by male looks. Men, therefore, can neither rely on their looks to get and keep women, nor excuse their failure with women based on their looks. Game, aka applied charisma, is about exploiting that soft space between a woman’s subjective assessment of her own arousal and her actual, primal arousal. As always, don’t listen to what women say, watch what they do. And nothing watches as closely as an MRI looking right into her friggin noggin.
An attractive woman emptied her brain bowels online and pinched off a tapered string of sentences so vapid that you would be challenged to find a more inane splatter of poopytalk. From her article at a site called The Daily Love, titled “You do not have to prove yourself to anyone“, in which she tries to prove her point of view to anyone reading, the following nugget is excavated:
As a soul sister to many, I often find myself being called upon for a variety of supporting reasons. Today, I got a phone call from a fellow goddess and she was in absolute disarray. She was, well, a hot mess.
Separately, each of those sentences is empty überfeels nonsense. Together, they create a kind of super storm of silly doublethink (why would a goddess be in disarray?), solipsistic posturing, and infantile prattle.
This is your modern American woman with a cable modem. The internet, among its pantheon of induced pathologies, has had as well the salutary (sadistic?) effect of exposing dim-witted women, and particularly the attractive ones, to criticism and mockery of their forehead furrowing thoughts that they normally would not experience in the real world where people are politer and men more indulgent of non-obese fuckables.
This doesn’t seem to thwart the flow of distaff nonsense, though. Instead of retreating to lick their wounds and go back to doing what they do best — defer to the man of the house — they circle the wagons and soundproof their echo chambers. But the walls come tumbling down eventually. Some of the shivs must penetrate; expect an epidemic of mental illness among our wired women in the coming years.