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The goal of feminism is to remove all constraints on female sexuality while maximally restricting male sexuality.

CH wrote the above not long ago to describe the purpose, in practice if not specifically elucidated in theory, of feminism. But what is the emotional impetus that motivates feminists? For that, we must dig deeper. Come out and plaaay, little id.

One, feminism is a hissy fit ugly women menstruate all over pretty women.

According to Benenson, a common way women deal with the threat represented by a remarkably powerful or beautiful woman is by insisting on standards of equality, uniformity, and sharing for all the women in the group and making these attributes the normative requirements of proper femininity.

Two, feminism is the revealed hatred that sexually undesirable women have for male sexuality. Feminists loathe male desire. They loathe it because it represents everything female sexuality is not — free, idealistic, romantic, reckless, unencumbered, insistent, bold, cheerful — and because the active and intrusive and JUDGMENTAL nature of male sexuality throws the physical desirability of women into stark relief. When a man ignores you to hit on your friend, that is as stone cold a judgment of your sexual worth as can be found in the state of nature. When a man can’t get a boner for a woman, well, that’s an event horizon rejection.

Evidence for feminist loathing of male desire comes distilled in this news story about a post-Lolita who was asked to change out of her Daisy Dukes because she was violating the school dress code. The Hivemind, as per usual, lined up behind (heh) the slutty attention whore to, essentially, denounce boys for having sex drives which compel them to furtively glance at barely concealed booty and get distracted from their schoolwork.

As commenter PA writes,

High school girl protests slutty clothes uniform code. Says that boys should be instructed to not look to them sexually instead. Adults, including major media, validate girl’s queef.

The more I see of modern West in its ugly and moronic totality, the more life behind the Iron Curtain in the seventies looked like paradise in comparison.

A healthy, rational, and sane society that was at peace with itself would understand that men and women have different biologically based sex drives, and that it would be cruel to subject boys, or girls, to social disruptions and insults that unnecessarily and extravagantly torment them and pull them away from their learning. (CH PSA: Bring back single sex schooling.)

But we don’t live in a sane country anymore. This sort of boy-bashing is not just ugly…. as Dalrymple said, it’s humiliating. If you aren’t on your knees in prostration kissing the feet of equalist priestesses, you just aren’t submitting hard enough.

To compound the problem, the nature of men’s sexuality is such that it’s easier for leftoid propagandists to humiliate them. Men rely on visual cues for sexual stimulation. It’s thus a simple matter to chastise men for their “leering objectification” and “contribution to rape culture” when they understandably gawk at scantily clad temptresses, and to then demand from men the Danegeld of self-abnegation. Call it the Danegelding.

But demanding the same humiliating abnegation from women, should our Hivemind queen bitches ever contemplate it, proves much more daunting. Women are sexually stimulated by a constellation of male attributes, many of which are invisible to the naked eye — male personality, humor, wealth, popularity, skill, etc — so isolating and condemning “female sexual privilege” or female “contribution to hypergamy culture” is a conveniently impossible trick to pull off. Where to aim? At doe-eyed girls doing the homework of dreamy jerkboys?

A sex equivalent scenario would be hard to piece together. Perhaps air drop a rock star into a high school classroom and tell the girls on threat of expulsion to refrain from gawking at him or giggling uncontrollably when he smiles? Crisis and observation, a wag might call it. Or, what’s good for the goose…

Look around and you can’t help but notice it’s feminist metaphorical guns at boys’ heads and groins, now and forever. And their firepower increases by the day.

The modern West deserves nothing less than exhaustion and death. Suffrage was a fucking huge mistake.

 

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CH continues to explore the Elliot Rodger story because it reveals cracks in our culture that go beyond one man’s murderous rampage. In the days that have followed, the Hivemind has been busy concocting twisted narratives to see which one best tarnishes its free-thinking enemies. I examine their accuracies and fallacies below.

Sexual Entitlement

This theoretical gambit is a favorite of feminist fruitcakes, who blame the killings on Rodger’s thwarted “entitled” belief that he was “owed” sex with hard 10s, a feminist-friendly analysis that provides a handy springboard upon which they can launch into attacks on “pickup artists” who are learning how to become sexier men in order to date higher quality girls.

The fallacy in this feminist hypothesis was astutely noted by Liger (recently upgraded from Lamb) of the Blogosphere, who wrote that sexual and romantic entitlement is a natural condition of humanity, and that without it men would feel they had no right to approach women and initiate a courtship, and the human race would go extinct.

Here are some uncomfortable truths about “sexual entitlement” that feminists dare not contemplate:

- What Elliot Rodger had was sexual desire. Feminists often confuse sexual desire for sexual entitlement (because feminists loathe male desire), but they are two very different things. To conflate them, one would have to assert that Rodger was weird for feeling attracted to a hot young blonde. But men are attracted to beautiful women. That is their nature. Rodger was no different than the vast majority of men in this regard, alpha and beta alike. However, this is the part where Liger goes astray; Elliot didn’t need to be surrounded by pretty Hollywood actresses or steeped in a culture that reveres female beauty to feel urges to want to fuck cute girls based on their looks. The stripling CH did not grow up in Hollywood, and yet I, like almost every boy I knew, valued girls for their looks above all else. No “looks message” is necessary for a boy like Elliot to feel sexual urges for cute chicks, and to feel dejected if those urges aren’t fulfilled.

- Women feel more true entitlement to men’s commitment and money than men feel to women’s sex. Few men will rape in order to feed their sexual entitlement, but many women will hold out until they get promises of commitment from men, and many marriages end with women feeling entitled to half their husbands’ wealth. A more accurate description of the sexual market, then, is that women have commitment and provision entitlement.

- Finally, the scariest realization for feminists: Sexually entitled men are more attractive to women! If you don’t feel entitled to a woman’s love, she won’t think you’re worth her love.

Elliot Rodger’s problem was not sexual entitlement. His problem was sexual desire coupled with crippling introversion that left him no means to satisfy his desire. This created a cognitive disconnect that he filled with his own untested theories for why women weren’t with him when they were with (to him) obviously inferior specimens.

Father Emotional Abandonment

Elliot Rodger’s father, Peter Rodger, from all accounts sounds like he was uninterested in Elliot’s upbringing and preferred his time in the company of naked women taking pictures of their behinds, (which included Elliot’s mother). His father either never loved Elliot, or grew to despise him when he began to sense something was off with the boy. (If the former, it’s likely that Elliot’s biracial appearance contributed to his white father’s disenchantment with him.)

Bolstering the father abandonment theory, a reader sent some juicy insider information which I will post here, taking care to edit it in a circumspect manner so that no identities are accidentally revealed.

Elliot Rodger’s family has been part of a reality show the last seven years often recorded in his house. This is significant because his father on the show has always said he has “a” son, as in only one. In this video from the TV show it shows the father at the family table with the son from the second marriage, but not Elliot.

Elliot is shown in the show, for example when they met Sylvester Stallone (23:50), but Elliot is never acknowledged or speaks. Imagine a father that has a reality show in the house, keeps talking about “his son” and the “three of us” as in “Mother, Father, and son” as opposed to sons.

Elliot mentions the jealousy he has for the other brother. The fact his father says on TV, in the house Elliot lives in, that he has one son, might be enough to push someone over the edge.

In other words, complete family dysfunction.

Elliot doubtlessly sensed his father’s loathing and embarrassment of him, and this family dynamic may have set the ball rolling on Elliot’s eventual psychosocial schism.

Regardless where you fall on the “fathers are crucial/father’s genes are crucial” argument about children’s development, it’s a good bet Elliot lacked a positive parental influence and a loving father’s advice that would have helped him through his struggle into manhood. Nevertheless, the father emotional abandonment theory can’t fully explain Elliot’s eventual psychotic break; something awry already had to be present. Was Elliot’s blood tainted?

Psychopathy/Schizophrenia/Narcissism/Neuroticism/Asperger’s Syndrome

A common theme that often emerges from mass shootings is the revelation that the killer was on some kind of psychotropic or suffered from an anti-social disorder like autism. Then people say “Aha! He was a bad seed, not right in the head”, and feel satisfied that they can ignore any environmental insults that may have triggered the killer’s rage.

News stories present contradicting information on how much, or whether, Elliot was on any happy pills or had been formally diagnosed with any personality disorder. If he was on pills, the causal mechanism then becomes the issue; did Elliot’s psychological disease push him over the edge, or did the drugs he take to ameliorate his disease act as the trigger for violence? Evidence is slim that Elliot had a congenital mental disease, but this photo of him as a child is telling (via reader Tony Nick):

Dem eyes. We’ve seen them before, staring vacantly out of the faces of Dylan Kliebold and Seung-Hui Cho.

Right now it’s a guessing game, but the best guess is that Elliot Rodger had inherited a form of narcissistic and anti-social personality disorder. Some wags may ask your esteemed host, “If chicks dig dark triad narcissists, why didn’t they dig Elliot?” The problem here is that narcissism doesn’t attract girls if it’s hiding behind a shy, retiring, aggrieved personality. You’ve gotta bust a move, and Elliot Rodger clearly never saw a move he wished to bust, unless it involved spilling coffee on a girl who was dating a guy he didn’t like.

A severe organic personality disorder alone won’t typically create a killer, but combine it with some external variable — like incel — and all the bomb needs is something to light the fuse.

Male Feminism/White Knightism

A good argument can be made that Elliot Rodger was, in his writings and beliefs, a male feminist. And that the cancerous, deceitful message of male feminism warped his view of women and contributed to his ignorance about female nature and dating. Rodger believed “supreme gentlemen” should get the girls. He thought merely showing up and plopping down on a park bench would have the girls falling into his lap (and like a peculiar subspecies of MGTOW, his belief system similarly embraced the strange notion that making efforts to get girls was beneath him). His dad, probably equally deluded about women and dating in the year 2014, figured that buying his son a BMW in the last year of his life would help him get dates.

Did male feminism create a monster? It certainly didn’t help Elliot get laid; in fact, it helped repulse girls from him, the external factor which seems to have been the dark driving force throughout his post-pubertal life. Male feminism is not just castrating, it kills. Ask Hugo Schwyzer.

Status Envy

In the Hollywood culture Elliot knew, very high status men, beautiful women and botoxed women, and snotty children of high status men and beautiful and/or botoxed women surrounded him. Most of these people are entitled (far more entitled than Elliot) and bipolar. A fun bunch to throw a party, not so great for raising a biracial, effeminate (though not physically unattractive) male like Elliot who couldn’t look people in the eyes and barely spoke two words to family acquaintances. In this milieu, Elliot would have felt like a tragic outcast, and everyone who knew him would have thought that, too.

Absolute low status does not destroy souls, but relative low status can do the trick. Any other town, Elliot might’ve stood a chance of carving out a social niche for himself. A dad with some awareness and compassion would have taken him out of Hollywood, but then that would have meant no more naked photo shoots and handshakes with Sly Stallone.

The Anti-Boy Therapy Culture

Elliot’s family had him in therapy for years. The psychiatrist he saw was a quack who dated a skank blonde with gargantuan fake tits. Harken back to your childhood. How would you have felt if your family basically pulled a Pontius Pilate and washed their hands of you, sending you to a sleazeball who’s idea of therapy was promptly writing a script for Risperidone, an anti-schizophrenia drug?

This is a tragic example of the anti-boy therapy culture that pervades the US. And by “therapy”, I mean that feminized, womanish therapy that shoves pills down throats to solve the problem of boyness. Maybe Elliot was born sick and needed therapy. But what he didn’t need was a castrate asking him his feelings about his mother while he jerked off under the desk. Elliot needed the therapy of a clear and present father to inform him of the ways of the world. Maybe that wouldn’t have saved him, but it at least would’ve given him a fighting chance.

Pickup Artists and PUAHate

Elliot Rodger didn’t frequent the PUAHate forum to grouse about pickup techniques he tried that didn’t land him a bombshell hottie. He went there to bemoan women and the men those women loved with sympathetic company, and to complain about his looks. While there, (and elsewhere), he picked up (heh) a few bits and pieces of PUA jargon and proceeded to construct an inner fantasy world featuring himself as the put-upon alpha male. But, sadly, to the outside world he was still that shy kid who never talked and looked at his shoes. This was about the time when a complete dissociation between Elliot’s inner world and his outer reality was underway.

The Estrangement Of The Modern Sexual Market

If ever there was a subculture where the modern sexual market was most conspicuously operable, it was the la-la land Elliot grew up in. You can imagine what it was like for a shy kid who had to navigate a dating apocalypse where 90% of the girls were bangable and 99% of them were chasing after the top 1% sons of A-list insiders. This poor lesser beta didn’t stand a chance.

Elliot Rodger’s 132-page autobiography/manifesto (autofesto? manigraphy?) is filled with brutally confessional admissions of loserdom. If he carried even a fraction of that self-pity with him to real life interactions with girls, they would have immediately written him off as a romantic prospect. Girls can smell the stink of beta incel from twelve parsecs.

Failure with women compounds until the beta male succumbs to bitterness, at which point the process of sexual isolation accelerates and solidifies. If an intervention goes missing, the beta can drift into omegaland, and fall victim to his worst compulsions.

Reader Steve Johnson writes,

He was totally isolated because he made bad choices.

He chose world of warcraft over socializing because it’s an effective narcotic.

He chose puahate because it told him what he wanted to hear – that girls choose guys for mysterious reasons that no man can understand – or change about himself.

He specifically avoided socializing in any way that would threaten his narcissistic self-image and motivate him to change in any way – after all if he has to change, then he’s not perfect and we all know that can’t be true, right?

He was omega by choice because it was easier than doing any work.

Martyrdom complex, bad family, crippling shyness, pathological narcissism, biracial neuroticism, unfulfilled sexual desire, a sexual market rapidly separating introverted beta males from the sexual spoils… these things put together don’t guarantee a man will become a killer, but they sure don’t help.

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The self-gratifying meme that feminists have begun to lock labia around to exploit explain Elliot Rodger’s killing spree is exemplified in this American Prospect stream of runny shit by Amanda Marcotte, she of the furry manjaw and associated masculine temperament. The meme, a rather simple-minded one, goes like this: “Pickup artistry, loosely affiliated with the manosphere, drives men to kill.”

Other unattractive feminists who have spent many years playing second banana to their prettier friends getting all the attention from exciting players are circling the wagons around this kindergarten interpretation.

Marcuntte’s libelous propaganda rests on a singularly false premise. She lies,

Despite PUA guarantees to the contrary, there’s no reason to believe any of this actually makes you more successful with women, which is why a site called PUAhate, which Rodgers was a frequent contributor to, emerged. Members of PUAhate, by and large, are men who bought wholesale into the PUA ideology, only to find it doesn’t work for them.

You’ll never go broke underestimating the rapidity with which feminist warthogs abandon journalistic integrity in pursuit of a predefined agenda. PUAHate was not filled with men who “bought wholesale into the PUA ideology”. Quite the contrary, if this raving cuntess had spent one minute trawling the site she’d know that it was filled with shut-in losers who never followed PUA advice and nursed an inordinate hatred for PUA marketers whom they considered, rightly or wrongly, were pushing snake oil.

If Marcuntte were to concede this point, the entire edifice of her Prospect article crumbles to the ground. That’s why she lies. Without lies, these feminist freaks would have nothing.

In related shivving, I wonder how Manboobz, nee David Futrelle, feels about having happily linked to a website that harbored a mass murderer and fed his despair and homicidal tendencies? The blood of four men and two women are on his hands.*

*If femcunts and their blobby male lackeys want to dispense with any pretense of objectivity and get in the gutter, I’ll be the first to open the sewer doors and toss them in with the rats and pigs.

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Elliot Rodger, a 22-year-old mixed race Millennial “here’s why that’s a problem” son of a Chinese woman and a father with a psychopath’s thousand yard stare who was an assistant director for the Hunger Game movie, went on a shooting spree that left four men and two women dead, after which he self-delivered behind the wheel of his BMW.

The rampage is newsworthy in and of itself, but what’s really catapulted it in the public imagination is the killer’s “manifesto“, and the discovery that he was a member of an internet forum called “PUAHate”, which is a homoerotic playground for shut-ins with zero experience saying “hi” to girls, who post epic rants disparaging pickup artists and game and spend inordinate mental energy analyzing the facial measurements of various men in the apparent belief that no man who doesn’t look like George Clooney could ever get laid and should therefore not bother trying to meet women.

After reading excerpts of Rodger’s manifesto, I wondered if my evil twin was taking the piss and fooling everyone with a parody of an incel omega male so over-the-top and cartoonish that only the most gullible would believe it. Examples:

I eventually grew to hate him after I heard him having sex with my sister. I arrived at the house one day, my mother being at work, and heard the sounds of Samuel plunging his penis into my sister’s vagina through her closed room door, along with my sister’s moans. I stood there and listened to it all. … The slob [porking my sister] doesn’t even have a car, and he is able to get girlfriends, while I drive a BMW and get no attention from any girls whatsoever. [...]

I made no progress in school either. My geography class had no pretty girls in it, so I had no hope there. I spent a lot of time sitting in the cafeteria area, but all of the beautiful girls I saw intimidated me too much. One time, as I was walking across the huge bridge that connected the two campuses, I passed by a girl I thought was pretty and said “Hi” as we neared each other. She kept on walking and didn’t even have the grace to respond to me. How dare she! That foul bitch. I felt so humiliated that I went to one of the school bathrooms, locked myself in a toilet stall, and cried for an hour. [...]

Before I knew it, it was July 12th and the countdown on my internet homepage was up. The new Song of Ice and Fire book, A Dance with Dragons, was released. I emailed my mother to order me the book from Amazon. The countdown was ultimately over, and I had nothing to show for it. I was still a virgin, even after a month of living in a town full of college kids who had sex all the time. I realized that I had only twelve more days as a teenager! I was going to turn twenty very soon. One of my hopes was to at least lose my virginity before my time as a teenager was over. Being a virgin at the age of twenty would make me feel very defeated. I made a bid to do everything I could to lose my virginity in those few remaining days I had. With a tremendous amount of panic, I wondered what I could possible do. The only thing I could think of was to go out to the common areas of Isla Vista as much as possible. I had to put myself out there, even if it only increased my chances of having sex by one percent. One percent was still better than zero. For those crucial twelve days I had left as a teenager, I walked over to the center of Isla Vista every day and sat at one of the tables outside Domino’s Pizza, hoping against hope that a girl would come up and talk to me.
Why wouldn’t they? I looked good enough, didn’t I? Or did I not look good enough? [...]

As my frustration grew, so did my anger. I came across this Asian guy who was talking to a white girl. The sight of that filled me with rage. I always felt as if white girls thought less of me because I was half-Asian, but then I see this white girl at the party talking to a full-blooded Asian. I never had that kind of attention from a white girl! And white girls are the only girls I’m attracted to, especially the blondes. How could an ugly Asian attract the attention of a white girl, while a beautiful Eurasian like myself never had any attention from them? I thought with rage. I glared at them for a bit, and then decided I had been insulted enough. I angrily walked toward them and bumped the Asian guy aside, trying to act cocky and arrogant to both the boy and the girl. My drunken state got the better of me, and I almost fell over to the floor after a few minutes of this. They said something along the lines that I was very drunk and that I needed to get some water, so I angrily left them and went out to the front yard, where the main partying happened. Rage fumed inside me as I realized that I just walked away from that confrontation, so I rushed back into the house and spitefully insulted the Asian before walking outside again. [...]

Seriously, today at my college I saw this short, ugly Indian guy driving a Honda civic, and he had a hot blonde girl in his passenger seat. What on earth is up with that?!?!? I would climb mount Everest 10 times just to have a girl like that with me. I drive a BMW coupe and I’ve struggled all my life to get a girlfriend. What’s wrong with this world? [...]

Unfortunately, all indications are that this guy is was the real deal and the bodies have hit the floor. A few thoughts:

Rodger pings some operational gaydars. There’s his plush gay face. There’s the “try-hard” nature of his manifesto, which reads less like a compendium of genuine pain than a B-movie script of what he’d think a guy with girl troubles would write. It’s so histrionic and maudlin that it could be as easily confused for the hallucinations of a psychopathic degenerate as the plaintive wail of a ronery NOWAG.

It’s telling, too, that his first three victims were all male and he killed them by stabbing, which is a particularly personal method of dispatch, suggesting a level of emotional investment that wasn’t there for the faceless women who bore the brunt of his manifesto ranting. And his narcissism; if you haven’t seen by now, Rodger had a stream of attention whoring pouty-lipped Facebook selfies that would make a dancing bar slut blush. Homosexual men are known to experience greater levels of pathological narcissism.

A repressed young gay man at war with his identity would be the sort to exaggerate his desire for (and troubles with) women. His manifesto references women in the abstract and the rejections he suffered at “their” hands, but few if any specific women who rejected him are named or contextualized. It’s mostly, “Why won’t these girls look at me?” Also, the preoccupation with his looks and other men’s looks and how the world was upside down because ugly men were with cute girlfriends again suggests some latent homosexual feeling.

But these are just suspicions (worth following up on imo, but which the MSM naturally won’t touch). As far as we know, there’s no hard evidence of Rodger’s homosexuality. So, that speculative notion aside, we’ll proceed under the assumption that Elliot Rodger was an incel heterosexual male whose off-key word is true and who really did have trouble getting out of the dugout with girls.

From what I can glean, Elliot Rodger failed with women because he was a social retard. That’s pretty much all there is to it. News stories say he was on meds for asperger’s, and was in therapy. Social retardation diseases like any of the autism spectrum disorders are kryptonite to girls; no behavioral or physical defect is as debilitating to a man’s chances in the sexual market. Proof of his social awkwardness and total lack of anything remotely resembling game is right there in his long-form diary: He thought that “putting himself out there” with girls was sitting on a park bench like Aqualung. That making a serious move on a girl was quickly muttering “hi” as he stumbled past her, later delirious with rage that she didn’t reciprocate with an equally prompt blowjob. That bumping into an Asian dude talking to a cute chick, and glaring at them with his twisted angry face, was acting “cocky and arrogant”. That his effeminate passivity and lack of proactive engagement with women was evidence that they were “ignoring” him.

No, Elliot Rodger was not a failed pickup artist; he was failed human being. A sexless beta male who, stirred and shaken by a lethal cocktail of life circumstances, racial grievance, mental illness, and morbid narcissism that stunted his development into adulthood and compelled him to prefer morose martyrdom to active efforts at self-improvement, found it easier to blame the degree of his brow ridge tilt for his failure with women.

He was the opposite of a failed pickup artist, because at least you know the failed pickup artist tried with women. Rodger apparently never even bothered to try. He just whined that women weren’t sticking to the hood of his Beemer.

All this is to say that, yes, there is a chance that, given an early enough intervention, game could have gotten him laid and quieted his inner rage. Feminists and their manlet enablers will scoff on cue, but giving a young man the tools to help him win the love of a woman (or just a warm smile) will tend to put a damper on his revolutionary kill-em-all spirit.

Which brings us to PUAHate, the forum of which Rodger was a member. It’s not a forum for failed pickup artists as some male feminists licking the taint of their femcunt overwhores will want you to believe. It’s a hangout for socially awkward losers who desperately want to blame their failings with women on their sub-Pitt looks instead of on their awful social calibration and their inability to say two words to a girl without filling their Pokemon underoos. The news that Rodger was a member at that omega male brothel doesn’t demonstrate the failing of game to help him (as a certain lamb of the blogosphere implies) but rather demonstrates that the opposite of game — the cultivated hopelessness that one can’t do anything to improve his relations with women — is what drove Rodger to his extreme misanthropy. If you’re wondering how a 22-year-old can feel so hopeless about his love life, you’re probably an older person who stopped recalling what it was like at that age. The passions run hot and the perspective runs cold.

Elliot Rodger had a girl problem, and that girl problem wasn’t his supposed shortness, or his half-asian ancestry, or his richie rich expectations of immediate rewards and deference from lessers, or his utter blindness to what women really desire in men (hint, it isn’t BMWs). His girl problem was charmlessness. Artlessness. Social retardation. The very tingle-killing flaws that game will remedy.(More indirectly, his girl problem was also the result of the relative paucity of slender attractive girls in the US now. Rodger never wanted to date fat chicks, and no man with a functioning penis can blame him for that.)More thoughts, etc.:

No sense ignoring the race angle. Mixed race people are more likely to have psychological disorders. And Asian men are especially susceptible to dating market lockouts. Throw in the cauldron a stew of vibrant proximate diversity and it’s a surprise suppressed racial/sexual rage doesn’t boil over moreoften.

Rodger was not a bad-looking guy. But he was so ignorant of female sexual nature that he projected onto women what he himself found desirable and obsessed over his looks as his awful personality escaped his attention.

The title of this post is a broad indictment of this infantile Millennial generation, which daily provides evidence that their ranks are filled with effeminate males who, like women, expect the world to cater their needs, no questions asked, no demands made. Elliot Rodger couldn’t stand how unfaaaair girls were to date uglier men than himself, how unfair life was that his car and clothes weren’t a magnet for hot white sorority chicks, how unfair the cosmic laws were to require of him a little bit of effort if he wanted to put an end to his virginity.

Egotistic, attention starved, solipsistic, passive aggressive, perpetually aggrieved, and unwilling to change when posing as a martyr feels so damn good… there’s your new American manlet, same as your new American woman.

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James Franco is an A-list Hollywood actor who could have women fellating him within fifteen minutes with an inviting smile, so it would be surprising if his text game read like it came from a tone-deaf beta sperg. Or would it?

in case you didn’t know, i’m a really famous dude

don’t i look like a brooding james dean in my avatar?

i mean the # of inches you can take

autistic? or accustomed to easy lays?

he just has that “x” factor.

A normal non-famous man without compensating attractive personality traits would bomb badly running Franco get-to-the-point anti-game right out of the gate. But Franco is not a normal man; he’s famous, and Fame Game is the most powerful game known to exist in the universe. Franco has likely had no problem throughout his starfucked life getting laid when he wants, so he has been conditioned by his experiences with eager beavers that anything beyond minimal “name, rank, phone number” is unnecessary effort. His SMV is so high he could condense his courtship displays to pointing at his crotch. It would therefore be a mistake to draw lessons from Franco’s text game and apply them to the average aspiring womanizer.

But even the gravitational pull of Fame Game will yield to the electromagnetic push in the opposite direction of needy omega-ish anti-game. Women HATE HATE HATE desperate beta behavior maybe more than they LOVE LOVE LOVE famous men. It appears here that Franco’s charmless interrogation was sufficiently off-putting to ruin his chance with a springtime fresh Scottish lass. As a commenter put it, “Dewd gave her the social validation she craved, and is now in damage control mode.”

More than a few celebrities could use a dollop of game (as well as a primer in discretion). Some readers have shared stories of celebrities they overheard in the act of hitting on women, and they recall how surprised they were by the celebrity’s incongruous beta behavior. Being famous doesn’t necessarily mean being a smooth seducer. Presumably, these hapless actors either fell into their fame by accident, or they are so accustomed to women making all the effort to bang them that they regress to an M.O. of sheepish grins and stilted interview-style questions, perhaps resorting to handlers to do the actual dirty work of arranging face-to-face meetings with their hoped-for conquests.

Funny enough, the best part of Franco’s text game was near the end, when he wrote a curt “bye” to the girl. The threat of his disappearance suddenly loosened her tongue and switched her id gears from chasee to chaser. It was a helpful reminder of his incalculably numerous sexual market options.

Addendum

To head off the mewling nancyboys and nurse ratcheds menstruating about age of consent and “creepy older men”, a strong dose of reality: It’s as creepy for older men to lust for nubile teen girls bursting with secondary sexual characteristics as it is for teen girls to lust for older male stars bursting with charisma. That is to say, not at all. The necessity of drawing arbitrary legalistic AOC boundaries to thwart genuine pedophiles to the contrary, it’s totally normal and sexually healthy for older men to be aroused by the sight, scent and aural sphere of sprightly teenflesh. Nothing abnormal about it. Of course, whole edifices of cultural baggage to shame and contain that natural male impulse have been erected (heh) by threatened older women and beta males on the receiving end of the fallout from unchecked alpha male romantic pursuit and the delight of their pursued.

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The Sochi Winter Olympics opening ceremony suffered a minor glitch when one of the Olympic ring lighting props malfunctioned. Naturally, the glitch made above-the-fold, wall-to-wall coverage in the Western leftoid press for days, who, for reasons that are becoming clearer by the day, have suddenly discovered a simmering hatred for Russia they never had when Stalin ruled the motherland with a bloody iron fist.

Amusingly, Russian Olympics officials pulled a little twist during the closing ceremony. Dancers mimicked the malfunctioning opening ceremony ring in a gesture of humorous self-deprecation.

This is classic Agree & Amplify Game. Faced with a world-stage embarrassment and a shit testing Western media, Russians summoned their inner alpha male, amplified to the point of absurdity their faux pas, and in so doing recaptured the enviable dominant ground of the charming bastard.

Game is often mistaken as a limited blueprint useful only for picking up chicks, but it’s so much more. Once you understand that game — aka applied charisma — is psychological mastery over human perception, you begin to grasp its applicability to every human social sphere. Politics, business, family… there is hardly a context in which game isn’t a valuable skill to leverage.

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The Lost Ark of the human sciences, intelligence genes, has been found and opened, and the faces of Universalist Equalists are melting into a bloody pulp. Researchers have pinpointed a single gene which, in its high-functioning variant, directly contributes to higher intelligence.

Researchers have found that teenagers who had a highly functioning NPTN gene performed better in intelligence tests.

It is thought the NPTN gene indirectly affects how the brain cells communicate and may control the formation of the cerebral cortex, the outermost layer of the human brain, also known as ‘grey matter.’ [...]

Teens with an underperforming NPTN gene did less well in intelligence tests. [...]

They found that, on average, teenagers carrying a particular gene variant had a thinner cortex in the left cerebral hemisphere, particularly in the frontal and temporal lobes, and performed less well on tests for intellectual ability.

The walls are closing in on the lords of lies and their feels army of emotabots. Soon, very soon, they will have nowhere to hide nor any shadowed mental crevice left to dissemble. They will be faced with a stark choice: Capitulate, or self-deliver on the altar of their monstrous, deformed egos.

I foresee an end to the current Leftoid Regime playing out as one of two scenarios: Whole-hearted (and back-rationalized) embrace of eugenics and anti-dysgenic policies, or further retreat into smaller and smaller technologically and economically gated safe spaces where their hedonism can carry them gently to the eternal darkness, as a fetid tide of decivilization rises.

Will it be Gattaca or Attica? Is there a third way, less tyrannical but still wise and sensible? More importantly, is it too late to make these choices?

Addendum:
In Houellebecq’s novel The Elementary Particles, the protagonist, Michel, discovers a molecular process that launches the age of genetic engineering. Michel is loveless and sad, a numberless victim of a ruthless modern sexual market, and in the end… [SPOILER]… he walks into the ocean and disappears. He lived his personal Gattaca, and it was no savior to him. Was his death a warning of what he unleashed, or a fitting tribute to the end of humanity as we know it?

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The post title is a quote of Tyler Cowen, aka Cheap Chalupas aka Bargain Beans, from a Walled Street Journal review of his book “Average is Over” (h/t to Plucky Gents, Inc.),

To sum up, Mr. Cowen believes that America is dividing itself in two. At the top will be 10% to 15% of high achievers, the “Tiger Mother” kids if you like, whose self-motivation and mastery of technology will allow them to roar away into the future. Then there will be everyone else, slouching into an underfunded future of lower economic expectations, shantytowns and an endless diet of beans. I’m not kidding about the beans.

Poor Americans, writes Mr. Cowen, will have to “reshape their tastes” and live more like Mexicans. “Don’t scoff at the beans,” he says. “With an income above the national average, I receive more pleasure from the beans, which I cook with freshly ground cumin and rehydrated, pureed chilies. Good tacos and quesadillas and tamales are cheap too, and that is one reason why they are eaten so frequently in low-income countries.”

Cowen likes to eat his nation’s heritage with a sprinkling of freshly ground cumin and a side of refried beans. You can’t make this shit up. If it were any other psychologically healthy person, I would say this quote is a deliberate self-parody to subvert the deracinating Elsa Island narrative. But Cowen is borderline sperg, so you can assume his sincerity.

Commenter Porter responds,

More pleasure from the beans than what? Wearing a gimp suit? Having a sigmoidoscopy? And do the epicurean delights of bean consumption occur with or despite a higher than the national average income?

Does this Maria Antoinette actually believe his imported oompa loompas will forever docilely dine on discarded legumes while he devours caviar, truffles, and quail eggs? More importantly, does he have any subsidiary labor units…what pre-beaners called “children?” What are his hopes for their future? A warm grate in the winter? A cozy 300sqft favela? A hale old age of 35? Perhaps he assumes his higher than the national average income will purchase for them the best electrified concertina money can buy. Or perhaps he simply doesn’t give a damn. After all, The Economy is a jealous master.

An above national average amount of open borders nutjobbery is abetted by low ruling class fertility. When you don’t have kids, you don’t care much for entrusting a prosperous and livable nation to its posterity. You mostly care about cheap iPhones and status whore feels with your ideologically inbred SWPL courtesans. Your coin of the realm is phony morals instead of fecund maidens.

On a related TCCC post about Switzerland’s recent pro-national integrity vote to curb immigration, commenter The Anti-Gnostic writes,

how much immigration is possible without a backlash?

Lots, when you have an entire Cathedral that mandates equal treatment and endlessly reminds everyone how horrible and stupid they are for not allowing high-rise apartments on every square foot of available space.

Also, of course this is all framed in terms of “backlash.” In the Cathedral’s calculation, corporations exist but nations do not, and people are interchangeable cogs.

The more important question is how much immigration is possible before the traits which made the host society desirable to begin with are lost? I think that percentage is probably quite low, particularly for K-selected societies importing r-selected societies. My hunch, and it’s just a hunch, around 5%/yr immigrants assimilate. Around 10%/yr they gravitate to certain areas and leverage their presence. The natives start withdrawing. Above 10%/yr, the immigrants want their own country. Sure, they may speak the language and adopt some superficial norms, but at that point it’s not about assimilation but transformation.

The natives, lacking anywhere to withdraw, start shutting down.

Taking a cue from The Anti-Gnostic, a good metric for predicting at what levels Diversity + Proximity will explode into War by whichever means is a tiered alert system based on percentage of country that is foreign or otherwise ethnically or racially very different from the people who created and sustain the nation and its culture. CH suggests a reformatted DEFCON warning system, called DIVCON, for Diversity Overload Condition.

DIVCON 5: Five percent of population is genetically and culturally distant from natives. Assimilation probable with minimal fiscal outlay or native sacrifice.

DIVCON 4: Ten percent of population is genetically and culturally distant from natives. Assimilation possible with substantial fiscal outlay. Social cohesion index (SCI) shows first signs of stress. Foreign immigrants begin to self-segregate into politically potent neighborhoods that serve as conduits for overseas relatives and the continuance of their homeland cultures.

DIVCON 3: Twenty percent of population is genetically and culturally distant from natives. Assimilation improbable without enormous fiscal outlay and native sacrifice. SCI records explosion of cultural and racial fault lines running through regions and communities. Foreign immigrants and non-native minorities control entire neighborhoods and some cities. Multilingualism is codified into law. Native and racial flight from these non-native outposts of political and cultural control accelerates.

DIVCON 2: Thirty percent of population is genetically and culturally distant from natives. Assimilation impossible despite massive debt-propped outlays and propagandized humiliation of natives to abjure their culture and identity. SCI passes threshold from greater social cohesion to greater social strife. States begin to switch political allegiances as demographic change sweeps out native majority status. Native/racial flight peaks in intensity, limited only by economically constrained immobility. Self-segregation reverses historical integrationist policies. Regional power bases coalesce as federal power simultaneously strengthens and fractures. Anti-native propaganda loses its influence to inform native sensibilities and self-identity.

DIVCON 1: Forty percent or more of population is genetically and culturally distant from natives. Nation begins irrevocable transformation into resembling the countries from which the non-native populations originate. Political compromise impossible. Jury system breaks down along ethnic and racial boundaries. Wealth inequality reaches historical maximums. SCI red lines. Social discord and native ennui/withdrawal from civic processes undermine legitimacy of state apparatuses. “Anarcho-tyranny” — underclass and overclass lawlessness combined with police state intimidation of native middle class — is implemented to tamp down rising hostilities. Major cities and some states are abandoned by natives to non-native control. Redistribution to politically powerful non-natives impoverishes the natives. Anti-native propaganda assaults every cultural institution, becomes bolder and more transparently aggressive. Natives begin active and unapologetic campaigns against ruling class propaganda. Racial and cultural tensions provoke excessive and violent government response. Free speech surrendered as a founding principle. Mass surveillance and kangaroo courts operate with impunity.

At DIVCON 1, political and armed rebellion become distinct possibilities. Secession movements grow in number and intensify rapidly. Tax evasion increases. Tax havens multiply. Political parties realign. Military volunteerism bottoms out. Third parties experience surge in popularity. Tribal nepotism and corruption in every facet of life erodes trust, bankrupts communities, endangers citizens, and reduces standard of living and other measures of personal happiness. Mental illness and symptoms of psychological distress increase. Private militias, high- and low-tech security systems and fortress communities sever the last strands of national unity. Break-up is inevitable barring repatriation of immigrants, anti-dysgenic fertility policies, and social and economic protection of native middle classes.

America currently sits its rehydrated, pureed ass at DIVCON 2. And as any good economics PhD will tell you, this is good news. So bend over and take it like you like it. Those PhD models of human nature can’t be wrong.

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The question put before us, gentlemen, is why the President of the United States, Barack Hussein Obama, lies about the sex wage gap and the nature of its origin and scope, as he recently did during his State of the Union address, and in so doing assists in propelling it further into the media narrative as the nefarious plotting of boogymen misogynists, when an obscene preponderance of evidence exists in the literature on the subject disproving any favored notion that the sex wage gap is caused by male discrimination or similar hobbyhorses of the cackling feminist collective.

Gentlemen, ignorance of the facts is no excuse for propagating lies and stupidity, particularly when those lies cause real suffering to segments of the population, but willful ignorance is especially inexcusable in the President of the United States of America, Barack Hussein Obama. Of all men, he should know best the power of lies from a public representative to contort opinion and sacralize injustice against political enemies. Of men of station, he is most keenly aware of the truth and the requisite need to seek it, and so his insistence on spreading bald lies is all the more malevolent, coming as it does from a fount of spite and ill-will rather than a forgivable foolishness usually characteristic of the lower classes.

Why does President Barack Hussein Obama lie, then? More importantly, how can we, the assembled, end his reign of lies? You gather here, under the stone carapace of this haunt, to discuss just these weighty matters. Intimations of revolt whisper in the halls. Mutterings of secession, even civil war, trickle like condensation from winter windows. A slow heating rage, its potency strengthened by patient superintendence, arcs like static electricity on the deep pile rugs.

The verdict is unchallenged. President Barack Hussein Obama is a willful liar. He lies with breathtaking expediency and has as little concern for the truth as suits his political calculations or personal pique. He is aided in his mendacity by coteries of lickspittles and an opposition, such as it is, of cowards. Any hope that the light of truth might penetrate the hardened bunker of the current administration and its houses of sniveling, ineffectual partisans must be abandoned. The truth rarely glides to prominence on the feathered wings of angels. Instead, it drips from the bloody edge of swords.

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Chuck has a great exposé on Wendy Davis, the Texas Democrat gubernatorial candidate who’s been lionized by the mass liberal media as some sort of working single mom superheroine.

If your values are inverted, then, yes, Wendy Davis would seem to you an icon for the age. Her life resumé reads like a leftoid wet dream.

- Lawyercunt. Could it be any other way?
- Single mom.
- Crusader fighting the good fight against “old boys’ network”.
- Poster bitch for grrlpower.
- Self-supporting Harvard grad.
- Beacon of liberal hope in backward, inbred, red state Texas.

The truth about Wendy Davis is somewhat less heartening for her loyal spinster army.

- Lived with her mom for a while after she dumped her first husband.
- Relied on the patriarchy — her father — for a job as a waitress at the theater he owned.
- Married her second husband, Jeff Davis, who is 13 years older than her.
- Jeff Davis paid for her final two years at college, and then for her Harvard Law School tuition by raiding his 401(k) savings.
- The DAY AFTER he made the final payment on her Harvard school loans, the golddigging, scheming, sociopathic, hypergamous cunt filed for divorce.
- This proud single mom relinquished custody of her kid.
- In Jeff Davis’ divorce affidavit, he cited his ex-wife for adultery.

Heroic single mom, my squat-hardened ass. This anvil-jawed broad is a con artist and a leech.

Allow CH to drop some truly hideous truths into your lap today.

Single mommery is not heroic, apart from a few special circumstances (e.g., war widow). The single mother who has tragically and prematurely lost a husband and a father to her children is not a single mom; she’s a widow, and like any befallen widow her extended families and her neighbors will feel the pull of charity and rally to her aid, and give her and her children comfort and love. This will redound to the children’s benefit. But the single mom who cavalierly disposes of a good husband and father, or who makes a poor, tingle-inspired choice of mate, will not inspire nearly the same outpouring of charity and love from her families or neighbors. Her bastard spawn will suffer in part from this organic casting out by those on whom she expects to rely.

The institution of single mommery — and let there be no doubt that the equalists are attempting to elevate the single mom lifestyle to an honored place in American society — is a cancer on civilization. Single moms who are in their predicament by choice or by cumulative bad decisions are vectors of societal disease, bearing with them the rotten fruit of a new generation of misfits, degenerates, orcs and orc-incubators. They are not to be lauded; they are to be shunned. Ridiculed. Insulted. Shamed. Driven from the body politic like a virus, surrounded by healthy white blood cells and cordoned off from the functioning of vital organs. As a lesson for the others who may be teasing with the idea of following the same malignant life path.

But our body politic is weak, suffering from an autoimmune disorder that is incapable of identifying viral agents let alone expelling them before lethal damage is inflicted. Instead of watching Wendy Davis laughed out of the public sphere, she collects millions in feels money from feminists and their leftoid lackeys who excuse or ignore her malevolence with the same alacrity they pounce on those who commit the slightest realtalk offenses against PC boilerplate.

Wendy Davis is one woman — specifically, she’s one cunt — in the wasteland of a deathstruck nation, but the exquisite arrangement of her life particulars makes her emblematic of the times. It’s rare to find encapsulated in one gnarled specimen so many modern ills and torments and false gods; a woman that lies built. For this reason, Wendy Davis is the iconic American woman for the young century. She is the mudpie that the slouched beasts lift up and proclaim art. She is anti-truth. She is anti-beauty. She is death, destroyer of worlds.

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