Archive for the ‘Beta’ Category

The Ten-Year Cuck

Id Dregs (fitting handle) tells a scary campfire story that reverberates in the dankest recesses of our souls because it explores ancient betrayals that have stalked humanity since its rise from the origin slime.

This type of stuff doesn’t really sink in until you witness it or experience it first hand.

Case in point, I knew a couple (let’s just say they were very close to me, as one was related to me). They had been married for 15 years. The man did everything to raise their social economical standing from near poverty to mid-middle class. He did just that through hard work and dedication. They both seemed to be in love and for quite some time (at least it seemed to me, I was very young at the time). Years pass and they had three children together. We see them at family gatherings and they look to be very much in love with each other but as we know here, in these parts, looks can be very deceiving. Especially on the woman’s part. Anyway, fast forward some years and the man grows suspicious about his woman’s love for him. She acts distant in general and starts to come home later than usual. The man then purchases a voice recorder and places it underneath her truck’s dashboard.

what was revealed later, shocked him so much, he went on a deep depression for about a week before confronting the matter. I’ve heard the tapes, and a woman’s id is really the most unfiltered, debased, and crass piece of shit known to man… but eh, back to the story.

He confronts her about this and she doesn’t deny it. He asked how long, and she says, “I’ve been seeing him for 2 years now.” He doesn’t puss out at this level and beg for forgiveness but does something so evil, I won’t even bother to post it here. [ed: oh come on, man!] A man can only take so much before revealing his id too, I suppose.

She leaves him alone with their three children, but for him, he still feels something’s not right. So he gets a paternity test on his three children and he comes to find out his youngest child, his 10 year old one, is not his.

He was cuckolded for 10 years.

Let that sink in.

10 years.

He banished the child from his two others and now the bastard child lives with her. You can only imagine the damage this causes to the other siblings but the bitch doesn’t really care. At her very core, her id is the only thing that matters. Damn be all.

I still see both of them from time to time and while the man has tried to raise himself, he can’t. He’s too old now. He’s invested well over half his life into a traitor and for what? Nothing. He’s nearing 60 and the other thing that keeps him alive is his two legitimate children. As for the woman? She’s currently with some man who pulled the exact same thing to his own family, just to be with her. They’re currently broke but it doesn’t matter to her.

I believe heartiste here said it himself. Something along the lines of, ” when the love is gone, it’s almost as if a woman doesn’t even know you…”

Close enough.

Maxim #13: When the love is gone, women can be as cold as if they had never known you.

Well, she’s in love with her badboy and knowing that she’s nearing poverty doesn’t matter to her.

That’s enough #realtalk for the day.

The specter of rape gets an awful lot of Cathedral ink in the mainstream and feminist weirdo media, but if the numbers are tabulated rather than leftoidally confabulated the incidence of cuckoldry could be as high as 30 times more prevalent than recorded penis-in-vagina rape.

Now let THAT sink in.

But of course the comparative scourge of cuckoldry — the utter malevolence of the betrayal — raises nary a curious eyebrow from the cognoscenti because they, just like the hinterland yokels they love to torment, are psychologically enslaved to the biological imperative that pulses at the heart of the fundamental premise.

CH is well aware that the existence of this divinely created premise assures the immutability of the reality it manifests, and that nothing we write here will alter the universal laws of nature. That won’t stop us from enjoying the twist of the shiv and provoking howls of pain from the platitude pushers. It must be that Christmas spirit of giving flowing through us…

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Now it’s your turn. Leave your ideas for captions in the comments. Winners will be announced in a future post. Good luck and happy shivving!


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Organizing for Action, a creepily nondescript leftoid group tasked with propagandizing President Barack Obama’s (jesus it still sticks in the craw to say that) healthcare law, have released an ad campaign on Twitter under the hashtag #GetTalking that, well, you’ve gotta see to believe.

I didn’t think it possible that the Barack Boyman Brigade’s “Hosurance” ads could be beat in loathsomeness, but you’d never go broke underestimating the junk-tucking faggotry of Obama’s sop troops. You could build an online comedy empire just copy/pasting Obama Administration-authorized jpegs.

No wonder feminists are so bitter. These are the newborn androgynes they’re stuck dating. The feminist has sold her womanly soul — what was left of it — for a battalion of bootlickers to escort her to ideologically reaffirmed spinsterhood.

Can you look at that swaddled manlet for more than two seconds without laughing? I could carve a better man out of a banana. We laugh because that’s one of our natural human reactions to seeing something repugnant. It’s similar to the chortles induced when watching a fat woman trip and bounce a few times off the pavement. So gross, we have to laugh it off.

Think about why this ad was approved for mass distribution. Your first instinct is to ask yourself, “What were they thinking?”. A fair question. It’s targeted at urban liberal SWPLs, just the demographic filled to brimming with these vegetable lasagnas. A brimful of asslove off the 95.

So right there you know that Obama’s healthcare law needs these effete clever sillies to sign up so that the money can be compassionately thieved and redistributed to the parasite class (soon to capsize and tip over into majority status). Perhaps the creators thought that a gelding in a onesie was the way to appeal to the SWPL yuppies they need to sign up. If they thought this, and their intentions were sincere, we can conclude that stuff like this works on SWPLs because SWPLs take a kind of twisted retard pride in acting and looking like house eunuchs. To them, this androgynous lifestyle of hot cocoa and plush jammies signals sophistication and success. They’re so coddled and insulated in their Caplan-esque bubble that they can’t tell when they’re coming off like perfumed pansies. Cerebral Scalzi, meet schizopareeneia.

If Obama’s supporters and media messengers are all mental and sexual onesies — and evidence accrues that that is indeed the case — then these ad creators would have no clue that they’re broadcasting prime mockery material to their enemies. It’s hard to believe that could be true, what with all those 130+ IQ neoCalvinists comprising the Obama cult machine, but accelerated social sorting by ideology can easily blind a person to how they’re perceived by those not like him.

The other explanation is that “Organizing for Action” knows exactly what they’re doing, and have concluded that savagely ridiculing their own base and benefactors is the road to victory. I’m not sure how they connect the dots in that strategy, although I could see how self-deprecation can work as a status signaling tactic among people ensconced in a hermetic cultural milieu. It may also reflect a deep-seated need by Obama’s leftoid advocates to burnish their anti-white (really, anti-self) bona fides, and belittle the American white man as a satisfying reminder of his diminishing place in the homeland he built. For many SWPL liberal whites, astonishing as it may seem from an evolutionary genetic perspective and to people still in possession of healthy mental faculties, the thought of psychological and demographic self-castration sends a tingle up their legs.

So here we are, presented with yet another emasculated white male as the punchable face of Obama’s America. There are shreds of hope…

…but the balance is rapidly tipping, in numbers and in influence over national affairs. The man on the right dies in pointless wars for a ruling elite staffed by an army of de-balled fancyboys like the male on the left. Who do you think sets the agenda, writes policy, propagandizes it and puts it into action? It isn’t the guy with the gun. As a commenter at Randall Parker’s Parapundit wrote, if we had a real democracy, a political system where the majority’s wishes were actually obeyed by the elite, America would look a lot different:

The elite support democracy but democracy of the sort the Western industrialized nations have in which all but the most trivial decision-making processes have been removed from elected representatives and placed in the hands of unelected judges, bureaucrats, and trial attorneys.

Populism is in complete opposition to this type of democracy. If the people could vote directly on each individual issue, they’d support all these things: an end to almost all immigration, legal and illegal, and sending back people in the country illegally. Strong defense, but non-interventionist foreign policy. Strong tariffs on just about everything to put American workers back to work. Tough crime laws and severe prisons. Death penalties after one month. Gun ownership, but with licensing. Removal of vagrants from the streets. Forcing the mentally ill into institutions. Equitarianism not egalitarianism. Forced government jobs for everyone who can’t find one in the public sector. An end to affirmative action. You get the idea, they are on the opposite side of the elites on all issues.

A male in a onesie. There’s your ruling elite running the country into the ground.

Populism — strictly, white populism — is dangerous to the elite, and that explains their program of importing a new people to undercut the influence of the middle class whites who represent the greatest threat to an avaricious, globalist, culturally severed ruling class intent on hoarding power until their last breaths and the last breaths of their assortatively inbred posterity. And you know, the elite might win, because the majority’s wishes, courtesy of the open borders project of soft genocide and demographic replacement, will soon align with the elite’s wishes.

A soft, neutered pale Ewok as the representative of America’s bold march into a progressive, humanist future. A discrete choice made by a discrete committee in a sea of remarkably similar thematic choices, and yet this seemingly trivial promotional decision tells us so much about the mind of an enemy moving precariously close to outright tyranny as the next evolution from psychological debasement to achieve its goals.

You know what’s happening? Multidirectional, multivariate, multicausal American decline. Every metric, every signpost, every judicial fiat, every subversive narrative points to the same destination: The drain. The deviants and degenerates and destroyers are as close to the sun now as they’ve ever been. This is their moment. They can feel the warmth of validation. The radiant glow of coerced acceptance. The flare of triumph over human nature. Fat Pride, Femcunt Pride, Freak Pride, Furry Pride, Slut Pride, Anti-White Pride, Gay Pride and now Pantywaist Pride. Pride cometh before the fall.

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A rich man traded in his old wife for a less old pole dancer. Burned by the $7 million bonanza payout to his ex-wife, the man drew up a pre-nuptial agreement with his stripper girlfriend before marrying her.

He married [the stripper] Ms Stelzer in October 2005, but not before a pre-nuptial agreement was signed, stating that Ms Stelzer would receive $3.25 million if the marriage broke down in the first four years.

I bet you can’t guess what happened.

They separated after two.

I used to be amazed how unbelievably stupid smart men could be when dealing with women who make their dicks hard. Obviously this guy was smart enough to amass a small fortune. Also as obvious, he was stupid enough to sign over $3.25 million to a glorified slut with a pre-nup loophole so big she was practically preordained to waltz through it.

Mr Wallace fought to have the pre-nup deemed invalid, claiming that Ms Stelzer behaved fraudulently by making “false promises of love and desire for children”.


Money is not necessarily a marker for alphaness. Many rich men are complete betas. These are the kind of head in the sand romanticists who’ve been spit-shining women’s pedestals since birth, and who really REALLY believe a pole dancer when she tells them she loves them, as the ink is drying on the deal that amounts to a lottery win for her if she bails within four years, with eager assistance, of course, from the anti-male divorce industrial complex.

There are two — just two — safeguards against the insidious predations of women: celibacy, and love. No, not phony declarations of love paid in full with baubles and trinkets. I mean real love, the kind of uncontrollable love women lavish on charming jerkboys. If you have game… if you can play a woman’s heart like a harp… she won’t need to be bought off. She won’t WANT to be bought off. The only scheming she’ll do is convincing her friends and family that you’re really a great guy underneath the rough exterior.

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Beta George Zimmerman’s wife when he was a nobody neighborhood watchman trying to do some good for his community:

Alpha George Zimmerman’s girlfriend after he killed a thuglet, endured a mass media circus, became infamous, earned an army of wannabe vigilantes, got that cold thousand yard stare from his ordeal, armed himself to the teeth, and took off on a cross-country journey while picking up a couple of speeding violations and domestic abuse charges:

Lesson #1: A significant rise in male social status and perception of badness will allow a man to trade up a full 4 to 5 SMV (sexual market value) points in girlfriend quality. Zimmerman took advantage of his increased mate market options and dumped his UG2 fat wife for a 6.5 girlfriend with admirable titties.

Lesson #2: Women with higher SMV want infamous badboys. Women with lower SMV must settle for invisible neighborhood rent-a-cops.

Lesson #3: Fat chicks who claim that their beta schlub boyfriends are proof that there are plenty of men who love fat women don’t comprehend the nature of the sexual market. Options = instability. When tragically sad beta or omega males experience a sudden rise in status or desirability, it’s Bye Bye Fatty! The very few exceptions to this rule (Hugh Jackman, possibly gay) are cleaved to fat women’s pendulous breasts like cherished infants, swaddled talismans against the suffocating encroachment of ugly, hopeless, relentless reality.

Lesson #4:

George Zimmerman’s girlfriend — who authorities said accused him of pointing a shotgun at her — no longer wants him to be prosecuted, and wants to resume their relationship, according a new motion.

A sworn statement made by the girlfriend, Samantha Scheibe, was attached to a motion by Zimmerman’s lawyer seeking to modify the conditions of Zimmerman’s bond in his domestic violence case.

In the statement, Scheibe says she felt “intimidated” when police questioned her about the Nov. 18 incident that led to Zimmerman’s arrest. She adds that she “may have misspoken.”

“I want to be with George,” Scheibe says in the statement, adding later: “I do not want George Zimmerman charged. I make this decision freely, knowingly and voluntarily,” and without coercion, she says.

If a woman thinks you’re an alpha male, however flawed, she will move heaven and earth — and even deny her own words — to be with you. What’s a little shotgun-waving tiff between two lovers?

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The man has a point:


This guy is chasing after a 6 that he met once.. all around the world.

Meanwhile, Tuthmosis [ed: the ROK contributor who wrote a blog post about the attractiveness of thin girls with eating disorders] is being hunted by 15 8s. None of them even know what he looks like.

What does that say about the game?

1. chicks dig jerks
2. chicks dig challenges
3. chicks do not dig beta herbs who cheer them up and then chase them around the world hoping for a love connection.

I think that about covers it.

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Kindred stone cold truth tellers occasionally like to rib your humble galactic overlord by pointing out that social survey data shows that beta males have more kids than alpha males as the latter are commonly recognized, and that this means betas aren’t really betas. I respond, with amused mastery, that having kids is no measure of a man’s alphaness, especially not in this day and age of brat-thwarting contraception.

But there’s more contradicting the speciousness of this “kids = alpha male” line of thought than just the expectation-busting effect of contraception. To give the readers a clue into why it’s so wrong-headed to assume fatherhood is a default alpha state, read this story.

The guy has two (putative) sons by his parrot-faced wife, yet she does no housework, doesn’t cook, and only has sex with him on his birthday, and then not even every birthday. A bit of an extreme example of a neglectful, sex-withholding wife, but the extremes illuminate what it’s like for the mediocre masses of married men who suffer similar torments, albeit less spectacularly, at the hands of their ingrate wives who prefer to diddle to vampire porn.

So, yeah, you can snag yourself a fading beauty eager to accomplish the goal of popping out some rugrats with a man she can feel certain will do as he’s told, but don’t for a second think that “””achievement””” makes you an alpha male. The alpha male may or may not get married, may or may not have kids, but rest assured he’s not begging like a dog for pellets of pussy chow or listlessly shuffling around the house in an apron holding a dust buster.

Oh no, just the opposite; the wife of an alpha male is throwing herself at him because she can’t get enough of his undomesticated dongle.

In related beta male news, a new study found that upwards of 70% of couples are not with their true loves and are just “making do”. So sad. Game can help men find and keep their true love instead of settling for any girl who will take them. Game is pro-love. Game will get you closer to God.

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Here’s a theory which I don’t think has been expressed elsewhere, because it seems on the surface to challenge long-held conventional wisdom among the pro-truth, anti-feminist crowd that feminism was the result of an unruly alliance between alpha males seeking to enlarge their pool of attractive, single women and ugly omega females seeking separate status whoring avenues where they wouldn’t have to compete with married mothers on their turf.

Most avowed feminists and feminist leaders are dog ugly, so that part of the alliance rings true. But what if it was beta males, rather than alpha males, who were the other prime movers of Boomer feminism? (Boomer feminism was the beginning of the really warped variety of feminism that supplanted suffrage and Prohibition.) Did beta males enjoin the feminist sabotage of civilization because they thought it would cramp the style of alpha males? The betas probably didn’t grasp the long-term consequences of their project, but crippling their competition was the short-term goal they had in mind when they allied with the femfreaks. They were probably thinking (beneath the layers of socially presentable equalese), “Aha, elevating women to positions of power will help kick out those entrenched alpha males and level the male playing field. More poosy for us!”

Poor pathetic beta male feminists. Little did they realize that helping women become economically self-sufficient and freed from the “slavery” of marriage allowed them to ignore betas for the sexy alphas promising nothing but a good time. The one bit of leverage beta males bring to the sexual market table — their emotional and financial provisions — they trashed in a fit of spite against the jocks they hated in high school.

That’s my theory. I think it makes sense in light of the whiny resentment modern “male feminists” like John Scalzi reveal toward incorrigible charmers who defy the logic of gender politics and not only suffer no consequences for their impudence, but profit from it.

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The Silent Castrati

Many of us have seen examples of this — the silent suffering of the married castrati — in our social circles. Via reader Dan.

No doubt the husband happily acquiesced to this fun game with his wife, only dimly aware of its dark intimations of his sacklessness. But this is what happens in most marriages — a slow snuffing out of the husband’s penile prerogative to his wife’s enveloping vaginal jurisdiction over everything that truly matters to him. When women achieve their nuptial dreams and all incentives to please are stripped from their lives, supine beta provider hubbies are reduced to begging for pussy scraps. No self-abnegation is too low, nor any promise of indentured servitude too exorbitant, for the beta hubby caught in the marital trap of his own making.

And yet, time and again we have all seen and known of married men who assume the rump-raised position with an eagerness that defies good sense. Why do so many men willfully, even joyfully, put their balls in the vice? Why do they make a spectacle of their emasculation for the hoots and hollers of the entertained public? Why do they revel in their genital dispossession, like some psychologically cleaved Stockholm Syndrome sufferer?

Certainly, some of these men are very high value alpha males for whom a little self-deprecation helps to right the marital ship of love. Men with options beyond the wife to whom they’re shackled find much benefit to assuaging their wive’s anxieties. Poking fun at themselves helps in this regard to keep their days free of drama and jealous blow-ups.

But the majority of the married castrati are not in their sorry roles by choice. They are there by necessity. They beg because the nourishment of life — a woman’s sex — is not freely given them. They then try to spin their woeful conditions into a dignified valence with pretensions of joint accommodation.

Worse, is the father who thinks his obeisance to mommy leaves his children with some sort of righteous life lesson, as if the self-demoralization with a smile teaches his sons how better to navigate future romantic shoals or his daughters how to act when the time comes like a loving, supportive wife. No, the lesson imparted will be quite the opposite, and the family lineage will disintegrate in time as a consequence.

There are men who can handle the peculiar demands of marriage without sacrificing their balls to the cutter, but those men seem by the year to number fewer still. The tragedy is that it doesn’t have to be this way for the silent castrati. A little knowledge of game, or even an elementary grasp of female sexual psychology, and the marital script can be quite easily flipped, even in the face of a malevolent divorce court juggernaut that loves giving the screws to hapless beta males.

A little game, and gone will be the days of cleaning up baby’s puke for a week to “earn” a blowjob from a bitch who’d be perfectly happy never giving her husband another hummer for the rest of his life. Gone, to be replaced by happy and heady days of wonder, when the wife not only stops making her sex a quid pro quo, but begs to please her husband as the ancient religious texts the world over so command of her.

First things first. Tear down that sticker chart.

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Her arms, those perfectly rounded seat belts
which safely hold you on a ride in her plus-mobile
are oh so beautiful
And once they are back in resting position
hanging beside her body
then forming a sort of secondary cleavages
as if you did not already have enough of
her naturally large cleavage.

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