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Archive for the ‘Comment Winners’ Category

COTW winner is YaReally, who summarizes the best use of a group of hapless men guarding their prized quarry.

Take their girl.

You’re cooler than them by default simply because they’re so low-value to her that they’re her orbiters, and you’re the bright shiny new object. Just ignore her and chat with them, then tease her when she tries to get your attention and she’ll choose you and demand more of your attention. If you choose her, they can “protect” her and kick your ass…but if she chooses you, there’s nothing they can do about it because she’ll defend you from them. All they can do is go home and cry themselves to sleep, then Google “how do I get this one special girl I’m in love with??” and end up on their way to enlightenment lol

The shiv is strong in this comment. Congrats Ya. Your Golden Shiv trophy is waiting for you at the Chateau reception desk.

***

First COTW runner-up is EdwardWaverley, who writes a poem about a girl who secretly yearns for the grimy nonconsensual love of a street bum.

Tramp Seeks Tramp

I don’t want a beta provider
a simpering resource divider.
I won’t love a dashing young turk,
nor even a debonair jerk.

To render me gasping agape
I need to experience rape.
I know ’round the mountain I’d come
to play rape with the neighborhood bum.

As he stumbles alluringly near
with his gin-addled grin and his leer,
and accosts me without my permission,
all the dregs of my id start to wishin’

that he’ll yank me right into his alley
to assault my near-quivering valley.
Though I’m trying to straighten my dress
and to vocalize “no,” I’m a mess

of frightfully strange contradictions.
And I’m finding that civil restrictions
are a cramp to my hideous kink,
that I wonder what mother would think

could she see me receiving attentions
from nefarious, strange uber-menschen
in a dark semi-public demesne?
Better not to examine that vein

up too close. Yet it’s dreadfully clear
that an open-air climax is near!
If this fantasy goes any further
I may wind up a homeless man’s birther!

But enough! I can’t think any longer
of my rapey mysterious schlong-er.
(He’d be homeless, and horny, and free!
And he’d long just to rape only me!)

I’ve resigned myself simply to ponder
a vague thought of felicity yonder.
With my husband I’ll gladly play dumb
as I secretly yearn for a bum.

Stirring. I would pay good money to watch a prankster recite this on-stage just after a feminist slam poetess had finished her dull harangue.

***

Second COTW runner-up is Just Saying, who reminds the dudio audience that giving a woman even an ounce of control is a recipe for romantic failure.

Women HATE making decisions or being in control – so don’t let her. Tell her where to be, and when to be there. If she is – great, if not you should have others lined up and it’s her loss. I have had a woman blow me off and my last text to her was a – “Sorry to miss you. Met someone, we’re off.” Suddenly my phone exploded with texts – which I ignored till the next day since I was with someone and they took precedence. The next time she was there – on time, and I banged her. You always have to be willing to walk on a woman – other wise they get full of themselves, and NO WOMAN is worth your dignity.

Being her pet monkey sending her photos with her name on it [re: James Franco], is BS – she showed it to all of her GF’s and laughed at you. No women is worth that – I would have sent her a canned photo of an old GF’s butt that I keep for such occasions with the verbiage – KISS THIS.

Depedestalization is a prerequisite to seduction. Of course, you can fake the pedestal funk to charm women, but really feeling the weight of that pedestal in your bones is a burden that will pollute any charm offensive you take.

***

Finally, the COTW consolation prize is awarded to Waffles.

One of the first dates with my now GF of over a year, we were discussing what to do after we got food etc. I said something along the lines of “you can just drop me at my car tomorrow morning”, she said something like “Oh, what makes you think you’re coming back to my place?” Channeling the teachings of CH I smirked and said “Always assume the sale”. Sure enough went back to her place. We’ve been dating over a year now and live together. She STILL brings up that comment “always assume the sale” with sparkles in her eyes and tingles galore.

There is so little game in the world, and so few men practicing the art of game, that a little bit goes a long way. So long, in fact, that a woman will remember a cocky line spoken years earlier as the prelude to a deep and wonderful romance.

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Commenter “Z” over at Cheap Chalupas/Bargain Beans had this to say about poverty alleviation programs,

Welfare programs have never been about solving poverty. Even the most wild-eyed utopian dreamer knows that’s absurd. The poor will always be with us. Poverty programs serve three functions today. One is riot insurance and prevention. The people of Maryland, for example, have a real concern about the ‘citizens” in Baltimore burning the city to the ground. Giving them money to sit home and watch Springer all day is a cheap and bloodless way to deal with that problem. Welfare is just a part of the defense grid.

The other function is to employ an army of state workers that become poll workers, organizers and fund raisers for the political parties. The fact that tax money goes to operations like Planned Parenthood, for example, who then funnel it back to the politicians is a good example of the self-dealing at work. The massive amount of campaign money that flows from government unions back to politicians is not an accident.

Finally, these programs, their university training grounds and the non-profit barnacles attached to every poverty program are excellent dumping grounds for the dimwitted children of the ruling classes. Throughout the state systems you find relatives of state reps and party hacks. In Massachusetts, for example, the state is now largely run by a few Hibernia clans. There are families in Mass that have three generations of hacks.

CH’s advice to leftoids who believe they MUST uplift the poor or they’ll lose out on all that dopamine-boosting self-congratulatory feels is

1. Deal with it.

2. Make transfer payments to the wretched refuse contingent upon temporary or permanent sterilization.

Your typical SWPL high priestess won’t rest until she’s solved the problem of the poor? Solution: Policies which reduce the amount of poor people being born each generation. It’s simple, it’s effective, it robs the insufferable Salon crowd of their religious fervor. And that’s why it’ll never see the light of day.

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Ever notice how emphatically the few married feminists proclaim the awesomeness of the males who settled for their post-slut carcasses as if this was some sort of evidence proof of the superiority of the cock-hopping, mimosa-fueled lifestyle? COTW winner Paul Murray, replying to another commenter, explains the pathological narcissism that shapes the scarred psychologies of manjawed feminists,

There’s a recurrent use of “my wondeful husband” in Salon and other femcunt territories.

They never say “my SEXY wonderful husband”.

They don’t see people in their lives as full human beings. They see them as a role being played in their lives. The actor is replaceable – it’s the role that matters. The only non-replaceable actor is herself, the star of the show.

Married feminists of course will never admit that the scalzified losers who settled for them aren’t sexy, exciting men who make them swoon with love. To admit that would be to surrender everything they’ve invested in their egos.

***

Better to be thought an alpha male than to speak loquaciously and remove all doubt. COTW runner-up winner Rick Derris ponders what an Obama/Putin fireside chat would sound like,

No doubt [terse game] can apply to international relations as well.

I am sure Barry talked for 89 of the 90 minutes during the phone call he had with Vladimir “Nyet” Putin this weekend.

Barry hears that a lot from Michelle, too.

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A commenter at Cheap Chalupas Revolution, going by the handle TWIF, writes in response to another commenter wondering why the elites are so threatened by RealTalk®,

“Why are they so threatened by the idea that some factors determining an individual’s success are genetic?”

Why indeed? Presumably because the reality of genetic inheritance of talent is too deeply threatening to the status quo. More specifically (assuming Clark is right)

1. We can’t fix the schools. The kids failing in our schools will be failing for a long time to come. Education as a societal panacea is a false god that can’t solve inequality, racial disparities, social problems, etc.

2. If we are going to provide a better life to the bottom half, it is going have to be via something other education. None of the choices (income redistribution, trade restrictions, class based quotas, etc.) are pretty to the NYT readership.

3. Racial and ethnic disparities in America won’t go away anytime soon.

4. Unskilled immigration is a disaster because the immigrants and their children won’t be competitive for the foreseeable future.

5. The current elite (NYT readers) didn’t earn their position in society. They simply inherited it.

Let’s cut to the chase here. Clark is saying “you inherited your position in society and all of your ideas about fixing society won’t work”.

Why wouldn’t they be upset?

As CH has said before, the most powerful force in the universe is the human ego. So powerful, that our rulers would rather send their nation down the toilet to preserve their collective ego than admit their failure and futility. It’s status whoring all the way down. Down. Down.

There are other good comments by TWIF in that thread. I suggest you check them out.

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There were a lot of funny suggestions from commenters in this post about how to reply to a playette who “accidentally” texts you a nude of herself ostensibly meant for another man.

COTW winner has to go to WG.

“Hey, it looks like you have a small lump in your right tit.”

Now that is just stone cold clinical alpha detachment.

***

COTW Runner up is… wait for it… anon!

anon funnies,

How ’bout texting her back a few hours later saying it’s only pulling a 4/10 on hotornot.com?

I laughed. She’ll cry. And all will be right in the universe.

***

COTW consolation prizes go to michaelaurelius,

“Work on ur abs”

and to commenter Mom’s Proud,

“Your mom’s nipples are bigger”

:lol: CH readers are a class act.

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Troubadour resigns himself to winning COTW,

Changing things up deep into a LTR can be tricky, but it works. I’m sitting here with a homemade cake, a card, and a DVD my wife bought me “for the husband I’m so lucky to have,” and she got precisely dick from me in the way of emotion. I gave her a speech about, “Instead of going through the motions of pretending I give a fuck, why don’t I let you spend $150 of your own money on whatever you want. How’s that for a deal?” She accepted, and undoubtedly spent some of the $150 on me to buy the card and the DVD.

I used to make kissing noises and say “I love you” at least 500 times a day. Now I’m looking at having to fuck my wife as a pure cash transaction as the man whore I am. Dump a fuck into Shamu every Sunday night, keep my wood shop and all the rest of my stuff. I hate it, but it’s a practical compromise.

I wonder how many marriages devolve into unhappy semi-extortionate waiting rooms for death? A lot of those striver class SWPLs who marry matte-faced multiple-degreed chubsters to maximize the odds they’ll shit out high IQ wunderkinds capable of competing in the glorious future of globocorpdiversity don’t look all that happy to me. They look more… resigned. Maybe relieved is the optimistic take, but none dare call it passion. Or love.

No need for second place. Tough to follow up this comment.

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Reader Charlie Don’t Surf waxed poetical and quasi-biblical,

16 Commandments of Pajamaboy:

First off, I love you
I’ll never look at another woman
You’re my everything
I’ll do anything you say
I’ll do double for you
This is exactly how I feel
You’re my one and only
I’m sorry – I’m sorry – I’m sorry
I won’t play with your emotions
You’re beauty is awe inspiring
I’m so unsure of myself
I’m not good at anything
Best we take it slow
That’s all I got … I’ll get you a towel
You’re my master
If you leave – I’m going to die.

Coming Soon to a marital bathhouse near you: The Wreck of the Pajamaboy Cuckold.

(bring a tissue, because this one is an emotionally charged tearjerker!)

***

First COTW Runner-up is Scray, presenting for your delectation a how-to guide for manipulating gossip whores to your personal advantage,

I’m pretty sure that the greatest, best contrast game to master is ‘snake in the grass’ beta imitation game. Promise commitment, flowers, etc. up until the bang. Then proceed to go full asshole. I would think that this would maximize a man’s short-term mate quality.

If it gets back around to me — and I fucking hope it’s a girl who asks — “oh yeah, I really wanted to give her everything….but she just wasn’t ready.” My word against hers. And since a) girls LOVE fucking over their friends and b) girls are also jealous of their friends and likely to believe the worst….and c) because the girl is better looking than me, so the scenario likely has played out this way before…the chances of me coming out smelling like a rose seem pretty high. Not to mention having a shot at the friend, now.

Leverage women’s natural dispensation to backstab other women to your advantage, i.e., “muddy the estrogenic waters”. A helpful reminder: A lot of naturals are really as malign as evidenced in the ploy above. But they don’t put their machinations to pen on internet forums, or, really, think much at all about their actions. Plausible deniability is king of kings.

We discuss what works here, not necessarily what’s righteous in the eyes of the Chateau Overlord. “He said, she said” can backfire, though, especially if the “He” is a dude most women would automatically distrust. So I wouldn’t classify it as any sort of tried-and-true Game technique; it’s just an old-fashioned lie that can occasionally pay big dividends (if you don’t care about the long-term fallout).

***

Second COTW Runner-up is none other than that flatus of nature known as da GBFM,

loxoxozozzzozooz

wheneverd da GBFM see his twelve inch lotoattss cockas againstz her milky white skin and blond puzuzyyzyzyzyzyz, dat is high contrast game!!! zllzlzzzo

Finally figured it out. The lozzololzzzlol is GBFM motorboating.

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darkhorse steals the COTW,

well, the point is to get some rapport going with your girl, and really rapport of a sexual/romantic nature. she’s either going to accept or reject that “rapport option” you’re extending to her based on whether she is attracted to you and how you communicate/socialize.

deleting responses and ignoring a girl’s responses does not seem like behavior associated with rapport-building. it seems like behavior associated with fear and an unwillingness to feel rejected.

if you are deleting the girl’s response, it sounds like you are nervous about her response – whether it will happen, what it will be, if she will reject you.

here is a flash report: girls are going to reject you. the less you are ok with that reality, the more you are going to do weird shit like delete girls responses to your texts out of fear of rejection, which only introduces even more social awkwardness into your interactions with women. the more confidence you have in the quality of your game, the less you will care about reactions to the interactions you initiate.

Too many newbs mistake outcome independence for passivity. If you’ve engaged a girl, and she’s reciprocating, it’s game time. Move the seduction forward. Don’t make a habit of buttressing your inner game by deleting girls’ texts so you don’t have an emotional reaction to whatever you imagine they’ll say.

(A milder and more advantageous form of this kind of inner game trick is to turn off your phone for a day, so you call girls a day later. But this is for initial responses. If you have a girl on the chat line and she’s replying in a timely manner, keep it up. Don’t look a gift hoohah in the muff.)

Ultimately, the alpha attitude of outcome independence rests on a foundation of behavioral indifference to rejection. Rejection inoculation, you could say. If you worry excessively about being rejected by a girl, you’ll always struggle to unlock any alpha male potential within you. Of course, no man likes to be rejected by a girl he desires, not even naturals, but the idea is not the elimination of distaste for rejection. Rather, the aim is to accept rejection as the collateral damage of pickup, a necessary burden, and to stop beating yourself up over it.

Think of rejection like a sudden downpour, or a deus ex machina. It happens, you let it pass, you carry on. You don’t pretend to like it, but neither do you bellyache and take disproportionate, self-defeating measures to avoid it. It’s a fleeting nuisance that has no bearing on your attitude or your ambitions. Each rejection then becomes a victim of your cavalier dismissal, which, when compounded, strengthens your immunity to emotional disturbances caused by future rejections. And a funny thing happens when you start to think this way… you experience less rejection.

***

Runner-up COTW winner is Lord Byron, patron saint of Le Chateau, from his Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage:

There is the moral of all human tales;
‘Tis but the same rehearsal of the past,
First Freedom, and then Glory — when that fails,
Wealth, vice, corruption — barbarism at last.

Leave it to an unapologetic master cad to tell it like it is.

We are loose nuts rattling in a doomsday machine. We can see the abort button, we can even reach it, but our hands stay by our sides. And all we can do is lament our paralysis.

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Replying to a Steve Sailer review of the movie Her as a mischievous chain-yank of the exquisite sensibilities of white people who majored in humanities, commenter stari_momak pithily spits,

You notice how [as] America has gotten darker, white people have gotten fairer (or paler)?

One consequence of the CH axiom Diversity + Proximity = War is, ironically, a racial self-segregation that belies the media message drumbeat propagandizing the opposite. Her is very much a SWPL (Stuff White People Like) utopia: clean urban spaces, softening pastels, car-less mass transit, bicycle lanes, love affairs with an advanced Siri AI who sounds like the whitest white girl who ever whited, a noticeable lack of bling or vibrancy.

It’s almost as if the crushing weight of diversity (especially in LA) has freed upper middle class whites to wall themselves off in cultural compounds of their own making. Sure, they have to guss up their motives with doublespeak, but their actions — their revealed preference in economese — is strictly for a society of the whites, by the whites, for the whites.

It’s no longer affordable for liberal whites to walk their talk. The days of mingling with a token or two, or adopting some affect of the underclass, and patting oneself on the back are rapidly coming to a close. Diversity has expanded its reach to dangerous levels, threatening a core reactor meltdown. Its ominous, suffocating presence reminds leftoids on a daily basis the reality of a world that is being reshaped into what they have claimed is progress. In their personal lives, where chucks hit the ground, they recoil at this progress, and retreat to insulated social bubbles that align more closely with predilections formed by their genetic heritage.

Like the vast expanse of outer space, as America on the whole becomes less white, the pinpoints of whiteness glow more brightly.

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If you plan to pursue a fast-paced, rewarding career in womanizing, you’ll want to take steps to protect yourself from crazy chicks. All you need is one wild-eyed stalker camping out at your apartment door when you get home from work to make your life exciting in the wry Chinese sense of the word.

With that in mind, reader anonYmous advises,

Couple things from my past. And things I wish I would of done better. Using a fake name. Not showing her where I live. Not letting her follow me home. Using a burner phone (I have my main cell and a lot of chicks at work have access to databases and know know way too much about a person). I dated a chick who worked at the storage vault for the county courthouse and it was the same place they stored all of the local hospitals and clinics medical records. Needless to say she knew quite a bit about me. Also, if you plan to move get a new drivers license before you move, say you lost it or whatever. Just make sure not to give them the new address. Always keep ur phone locked and dont use a SD card on ur burner phone. Also remember that newish phones can stay connected to towers while the phone is off, so pull the battery on your main phone. The govt can use gps data to “link” two phones to an owner. The other thing I would add is to save incriminating evidence. If shit hits the fan always have a mountain of evidence on chicks. I also leave my wallet at home, and throw a hundred underneath the insole of my shoe in case I get in a bind. Though 100 doesnt go very far when something comes up. But you could put a prepaid cc under ur insole too. A crazy chick will regularly go though ur pockets when ur using the bathroom or whatever. Course you can use this to your advantage and have a friend write a fake phone number and a chicks name on it on a piece of napkin or something to stoke the fire.

Sounds like a pro. This is advanced level counterintelligence. A burner phone is an obvious first line of defense against prying princesses. Building a deliverable dossier on your lovers is next level anti-snoop game. Cash only, prepaid credit cards when cash isn’t an option. Fake IDs are useful if you can find a reputable source of them, and they’re legal to own as long as you don’t use them to conduct a transaction in which a valid ID is required. Never give out your real address to a potential loon. Arrange all rendezvous at her place, or until she begins to ask why she hasn’t seen your place yet. I once boffed a woman for four months before she got within spitting distance of my neighborhood. Keep your home spare; no identifying family photos or work-related papers lying about.

Disinformation is king in a land of distrust and proto-spinster malice. Unusual secretiveness will invite probing; better to misdirect a crazy chick with layers upon layers of lies and quasi-lies. Good girls rarely need this kind of treatment because they don’t have reason to mistrust men and dig into each date’s personal files. They avoid the cock carousel lifestyle and its attendant vice. Bad girls, by dint of their predilections and intemperance, have been burned many times by assholes on the make, and have developed a keenness for snooping in the bargain. They are less naive, but they pay a price in surrendering their chance at redemptive love.

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