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New information has come to light which provides further support for the theory that Elliot Rodger was the practical equivalent of a male feminist who was pathologically introverted, romantically isolated, and who simply didn’t understand that men and women are psychologically different and require different courtship approaches. A family friend of the Rodger’s understood intuitively what was wrong with Elliot: He needed help meeting girls.

When a student, Elliot Rodger, went on a rampage in California in May, killing six people, one man began wondering if he could have prevented it. Hollywood screenwriter Dale Launer knew Rodger and had tried to help solve his problems with women. [...]

Launer: The Elliot portrayed in the manifesto and in the video he made was not the Elliot that I remember.

The person in that video was cocky, arrogant and hateful [ed: only in the end did Elliot become the jerk chicks dig]  – the Elliot I knew was a very meek, timid and awkward kid.

I first met him when he was aged eight or nine and I could see then that there was something wrong with him.

I’m not a psychologist, but looking back now he strikes me as someone who was broken from the moment of conception.

It appeared to me that he had an overwhelming lack of confidence but not in a particularly endearing way. Sad, but not endearing. [...]

He never raised his voice – he didn’t even seem capable of raising his voice. He didn’t slam doors or pound his fist. I couldn’t imagine him making a fist.

Beta males rarely get into fights. “Have you ever been in a fight?” is a question on the Dating Market Value Test for Men for a reason.

In retrospect, you can point out a few clues, a few cracks to the malevolence percolating underneath but they were overshadowed by someone who seemed incapable of any kind of action.

He did not simmer or seethe. The boldness he showed in that video wasn’t something I ever saw before.

Elliot knew (to himself) he was about to die in that final video. That freedom may have allowed his long-dormant inner alpha to finally come out and play. Or, he could have been hopped up on cocaine or Xanax.

We met a few times and emailed a lot. He seemed convinced that women hated him but he could never tell me why.

It seemed like he would perceive cruelness or hatefulness when in fact, I suspected, he was just being ignored.

This is the developmental process by which woman-hating betas are created.

I remember giving him an assignment once so he could try to establish some kind of dynamic with a woman.

I told him, “When you see a woman next time you’re on campus and you like her hair or sunglasses, just pay her a compliment.”

I told him, “It’s a freebie, something in passing, you’re not trying to make conversation. Keep walking, don’t make any long eye contact, just give the free compliment.” The idea being you might make a friend if you make someone feel good.

I said to Elliot, “In the next few weeks – if you see them they’ll likely give you a smile – and you can smile back and eventually turn this into chit-chat.”

I got in touch with him a few weeks later and asked if he did it. He said “no”. And when asked why not, he said “Why do I have to compliment them? Why don’t they compliment me?”

At that stage, I realised he was very troubled.

This isn’t half-bad advice. Launer had good intentions and, it seems, a fairly decent grasp of women and what Elliot would need to do to get over his crippling introversion. It’s basically newbie game. “Get out there, say SOMETHING to girls that isn’t a compliment of their beauty, and move on while you still have the happy high of making an approach. Get used to talking to girls first before you start spitting seduction game.”

Elliot didn’t do it. That’s the source tragedy. I imagine his victims would be alive today if Elliot had completed Launer’s task. But for the flight of a betaboy, a typhoon brews in the sea…

Here we have our first hard evidence that Elliot didn’t get women at all. Similar to cellar-dwelling manlets who think that any proactive effort to woo women is tantamount to “putting the pussy on a pedestal”, Elliot believed that it was beneath him to approach girls and start a conversation. In his world of equalist ignorance, women are just like men, except with different genitalia, so logically why shouldn’t women approach him to give him compliments? If his premises are right, you can’t really argue with his conclusions.

But of course his premises were all wrong. And who knows why they were all wrong. Mental illness? Pathological neuroticism toxicified with a dash of repressed narcissism? A dearth of savvy male authority figures who could educate younger Elliot about the realities of female sexual nature?

Elliot needed guidance. He needed an experienced man — not a weirdo coterie of emotionally retreating family kin shoving pills down this throat — to patiently inform him before the rot had set that biological differences between the sexes means that women will rarely, if ever, approach men directly to start conversations, that it is the man’s job, if he wants sex and love in his life, to break the ice. And that however unfair Elliot deemed this state of the sexes, it was a reality that would never change, and never go away. He had only one choice: To make reality work for him, instead of fighting futilely against reality.

In one of the last emails I sent to him, I became quite frustrated.

I pointed out that he had the choice to change his circumstances, and if he didn’t make the effort then he had to take some of the blame. He insisted that, “I have to blame someone for my troubles, and I don’t blame myself.”

It appears that by the time Launer intervened, Elliot’s romantic ignorance and ego self-preservation had consumed him. He was beyond help. I wonder if Launer would have had more positive impact had he explained to Elliot WHY he needed to do his newbie game drill rather than just giving him the task without justification for it. Most unenlightened men who come to the Chateau to learn the ways of the crimson arts are first introduced to a steady diet of knowledge about psychosocial sex differences before the juicy game strategies are revealed.

One time there was a gathering at his parents’ place and Elliot was his usual uncomfortable self.

I asked Peter if Elliot was ticklish. Peter said he was, so I encouraged a couple of women to tickle him and you know, that was the only time I saw Elliot express any kind of joy. It seemed that, at least for those moments, he was a normal kid.

A woman’s touch is water to a parched man. Sad, sad Elliot. Game can save lives. But only for those willing to see.

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Reader Jeremy suggests a way to get the game blog reader addicts off their asses to bust a move.

CH, I have a suggestion.

It would take the cooperation of other major manosphere sites.

If you want to kick the keyboard jockeys out of their habits. Then have an “Approach Week” where all comments sections on manosphere blogs are DISABLED. Leave everyone the explicit instructions to go forth, and approach.

Good idea. I’m game (heh) if at least five other “manosphere” sites agree to the terms. (Qualifier quotes added because I don’t quite know what constitutes a manosphere site.)

The ground rules

Approaching means making a first move on women. The definition of a first move is a bit fluid. For instance, a girl could glance at you flirtatiously, and you could take that as a cue to walk up and say hi. Or you could go in cold and open inattentive girls.

Vocalizations have to be delivered face-to-face so that your approach can’t be mistaken for the passing mumblings of a street bum. You may grunt or wink or belch if it starts a conversation. Approaching does NOT mean staring at a girl and turning away satisfied that she registered your existence.

Comments will be disabled during the chosen “approach week” to motivate bleary-eyed keyboardists into a pair of pants and out of doors to say something to women. Go forth, and approach, as the Good Lord might say in an era when straight up multiplying will get you slapped with child support payments.

Posting may continue during Approach Week. Either the post title or the top of any post published during Approach Week will include a disclaimer that comments are off to honor the spirit of the Approach. (For example: Comments are disabled during Approach Week to encourage readers to limit their internet time and go outside to apply the lessons they have learned here.)

Off the top o’ me scruffily precocious head, here are five manosphere sites which write about game and pickup that might be interested in participating: Return of Kings, Rational Male, Danger & Play, Krauser, Alpha Game. I’m certain there are plenty of sites I’m missing, so if you’re one of them and you like this idea let us know in the comments and we’ll hammer this thing out.

If your broadsheet is listed here and you’re not interested, don’t worry about it. It won’t be skin off anyone’s nose.

Approach Week should happen sometime within the next two months, while the sun is high and the girls are barely clothed. Pending any objections, let’s set aside the holiday week of June 29-July 5 as Approach Week.

Post-Approach Week, CH will dedicate a day to you readers when you may share your experiences in the comments of an open post.

PS If something akin to Approach Week has already been done by other game blogs at other times, disregard this post. The remix is never as good as the original.

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Some readers have asked, if I had a younger teenaged Elliot Rodger cornered at one of his dad’s Hollyweird parties, what would I have told him, assuming I could sense that the boy was troubled by his perceived failure with girls and suffering great loneliness?

The thought has crossed my mind. Here’s what I would say (give or take):

Women are different than men. Much different. Forget everything you know. You must understand this first.
You must be willing to listen and improve yourself or I’m wasting my time here.
Accept that women are different, and like different things in men than you like in them. That means stop worrying about your looks so much. They aren’t that important.
Don’t act needy. This is the most important lesson. Girls hate male neediness. Girls love men who seem like they get a lot of women and don’t chase after them. Fake it if you have to, it’s better than moping around like a loner.
Lift weights. Drink a lot of full fat milk. Don’t expect that you’ll look like Arnold in his prime. But if you stay the course, in one year you will be more muscular and more confident than you are now, and girls will notice.
You have to get over your shyness. Girls can’t read your mind. You spend too much time inside your head. Get out of there. Focus on making eye contact with people, and stop looking like a grouch. Talk to girls first as a friend. Get comfortable with that, then begin flirting with them and making your sexual intention known.
Stop taking whatever drugs your dad put you on. The only drug you need is the testosterone you’ll get from lifting and the thrill of approaching girls.
Find a male friend who is good with girls. Don’t envy him. Observe him. Learn from him. He doesn’t have to know this, but he will be your mentor. Don’t feel ashamed that other men have something to teach you.
Again, your looks or your race you can’t do anything about, so stop dwelling on them.
Girls don’t like “supreme gentlemen”. Girls like fun guys who tease them and confuse them and make them chase. All those ugly guys with cute girls? They flirt with the girls and then ignore them and then make fun of them. It’s a seesaw girls love to ride.
You should never let a girl know how you truly feel until she has already fallen in love with you. Girls love men who challenge them.
Be mysterious. Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve.
Never, I mean never, write poetry or love letters for a girl, or buy them stuff. You save that for girls you are already fucking.
Girls don’t want to hear about your problems. If you have to vent, do it with a male friend, or an older male guardian.
Never, I mean never, take advice from a woman, even if she is your mother.
If you want to know what a girl is really thinking, watch what she does. Don’t bother listening to what she says, as she herself is unaware what turns her on.
Never put a girl on a pedestal.
You make a girl chase you by not returning her texts promptly, or by flirting with other girls around her, or by ignoring her chat pings or calls. Don’t feel bad about doing this, it turns girls on.
Your car doesn’t matter. Your clothes don’t matter. Your family’s money or the people they know don’t matter. Do you know what matters to girls? Self-assurance. Act like women already want you, and now it’s just a question of which one you’ll choose.
Oneitis will kill your soul. That hot blonde you obsess over? Stop doing that. The world is filled with cute girls. Go out and mingle with them. Trust me on this, once you are experiencing the incomparable joy of a cute girl giving you all her love, you’ll forget about that one girl you used to think you couldn’t live without. You’ll forget allll about her.
Stop thinking life is unfair, or girls are unfair to you. There is no such thing as unfair, there is only the way the world works. This is the way girls work, now make that work for you.
Here are a few one-liners I want you to remember because girls love to hear them.
Don’t be defensive if a girl acts indignant when you tease her. Her indignation is the first sign that she’s beginning to like you.
Stop berating yourself. Who cares how other men are doing compared to you? The only thing you should care about is your own growth as a man.
Stop hanging around losers. That includes losers on internet forums.
Let me show you how to stand like a confident man, and how to walk. Come, try it with me.
You are young. You have way more time than you think. Get some perspective. Setbacks and rejection are a normal part of living, not the end of the world.
Say the word “fuck”. Good. Say it again, this time louder. Good. Now scream it from the top of your lungs. Wow, people are looking at us. Smile. You’re feeling better already aren’t you?
That’ll be $200.

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The defensive crouch is where female tingles are born; it’s also where leftoids are stillborn.

Mangan posted a link to a news story about Sweden acting to criminalize criticism of immigration. A commenter pointed out that the story was likely false, a misreading of the original story.

Naturally, the premise — that Swedish authorities would seek to criminalize speech to spare the feelings of the orc horde — is totally plausible, given that a number of EU countries have taken measures in recent years to do just that. But the false lede plants mischievous thoughts in the supersexy noggin of CH.

It’s no secret the forces of Light have no game in the social or political arenas. They mewl and pout and me-too and, when the heat comes around the corner, bend all the way over in impotent submission. They cede ground to the enemy like a public pool clearing out when a floating turd is spotted. At their worst, they are contemptible.

Any anti-leftoid strategy has to start with the concept of reframing. Once a leftoid has established the frame, you are not likely to get out of it without knowledge of frame-busting techniques. Therefore, you want to engage the leftoid with your own frame, because as adept as leftoids are at setting frame, they are incompetent at dodging strong frames which are used against them.

The false Sweden story shows how to do this. Accuse leftoid elites, in the style of “fake but accurate” reporting, of silencing dissent, and working behind the scenes to make laws that criminalize free speech. True or not, the leftoid will be cornered into spending valuable mental and emotional capital defending himself from the charge. Semantically weakened, the leftoid is exposed to more dangerous ideological attacks that he would in an otherwise more commanding position be able to wave off with empty slander that vibrates the vulvae of his mirin’ masses. You then outflank your enfeebled foe: “Oh, so you’re not actively trying to suppress free speech at the moment? Then you wouldn’t send to jail anyone talking about non-white immigration to historically white nations?”

Another example of frame stealing is jacking up the minimum wage well beyond what Democrats are willing to contemplate. This strikes at two weaknesses in the enemy: his liberal lifestyle hypocrisy and his “conservative” concubinage to deracinated big business.

You don’t fight an enemy at the peak of his power with squirt guns. You open the silos and launch interpsychosocial hell.

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It gives great pleasure to the Chateau lordship to bestow upon deserving women the honor of Feminine Woman of the Month. Alpha and beta males, manboobs, and feminists all get their due here, but it is the feminine woman, the woman who defies the weight of social pressure urging her to advance an androgynous ideal with her own clarion call for a triumphant femininity, who more than earns the Chateau’s respect and admiration. In this twisted transculture, few voices, outside of men with descended testes, will speak for the rare woman who accepts her natural feminine role, embraces it, and revels in it.

So the first recipient of the coveted CH Feminine Woman of the Month is Kirsten Dunst.

“I feel like the feminine has been a little undervalued,” Dunst, 31, said in an interview for next month’s Harper’s Bazaar UK.

“We all have to get our own jobs and make our own money, but staying at home, nurturing, being the mother, cooking — it’s a valuable thing my mom created.”

“And sometimes, you need your knight in shining armor. You need a man to be a man and a woman to be a woman. That’s why relationships work.”

Some would call this madness. But madness is simply temporally displaced truth.

The sisterhood went psychotic.

The stuck pig always squeals loudest before the killing blow. A vapid feminist entity politely demurred,

“Kirsten Dunst is not paid to write gender theory, so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that she’s kind of dumb about it,’’ wrote Ryan, who evidently considers herself an expert on gender theory.

Notice how this VFE defines the worth of an idea: Are you getting paid to propagandize it? If not, your opinion is automatically discredited. This, folks, is what runaway credentialism unmoored from accomplishment or truth value looks like.

“So I guess my marriage is doomed to fail because I don’t have kids and write d- -k jokes for a living and my husband is more of a cat person than a dog person,” Ritzen concluded.

Her marriage may “survive” — in the loosest interpretation of the word — but her lineage will die.

“THANKS, KIRSTEN DUNST.”

Such butthurtness over a few harmless words about femininity. Why, one would almost think this feminist cunt wasn’t so satisfied with her egalitarian romantic life.

In the newly released issue of W Magazine, Dunst was asked by the mag’s guest editor, filmmaker Sofia Coppola, if she was ever hit on sexually by a director.

Dunst laughed.

“I don’t give off that vibe,’’ she said. “I think that you court that stuff, and to me it’s crossing a boundary that would hinder the trust in your working relationship.’’

Smart girl. Feminists cleave to their victim card like a newborn chimp to its mama’s teat. But it takes two to tango. When young starlets are “preyed upon” by older, powerful directors, it never occurs to these “gender theorists” – or rather, it does occur to them but they choose to ignore that tiny part of their brains where reason and recognizable humanity reside — that women are attracted to powerful men and will flirt with them and encourage on-the-job trysts that can be later back-rationalized as sexual harassment when regret begins to assert its domain.

Maxim #67: Women regret the cocks unwrapped; men regret the poon untapped.

A resurgence of femininity — not “womanization“, which in this zeitgeist is the opposite of femininity — would be a step toward restoring what America has lost. Kirsten Dunst may not be a raving beauty, but she’s cute enough, and who among you men, reading her words like they were an arterial sip from a chalice of life-giving blood upon parched heartlips, didn’t bump up her SMV a half point?

Men desire vulnerable women as women desire self-confident men: Ravenously.

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For those optimists who don’t think lying liars and the mendacious ideas they propagate matter, President Barry Kenyatta-Downlow Obama today signed two executive orders addressing the so-called “sex pay gap” myth that feminists have been menstruating over the national discourse for decades. In one order, federal contractors will now have to report how they allocate their wages by sex and race to the Inquisition government.

Ideas matter. The public megaphone matters. The pay gap as it is exploited by feminists and their shit lapping allies is entirely explainable by organic forces manifesting from innate sex differences. Hoped-for UGH MISOGYNIST discrimination has got nothing to do with it. Once adjustments are made for variables like occupational choice, downtime, part-time work, leave, hours worked, and natural sex-based variation in ambition and conflict resolution, the pay gap DISAPPEARS. In fact, some studies have shown that, after these adjustments, women actually make a little MORE than men on average.

Why is this important? Because the policies that evil ideas generate are actively harmful to the people who don’t personally benefit from the lies. You can lay at the crooked labia of feminist ideology the consequences of futile efforts to correct the “pay gap” in the name of helping women “lean in”. Employers have a new pointless cost to cover, and undoubtedly they will shift some of that cost onto their male employees. They suffer, consumers suffer, government efficiency (such as it is) suffers. Social distrust leeches into every facet of life. And, in the THX-amplified CH-widescreen picture, lower male wages undermine the marriage market.

Tell me again how feminism is irrelevant. With a straight face.

Yet there are normally clear-thinking scoffers who, emotionally shackled to their manicured knee-jerk caricatures of anti-feminists as *derp incel bitterboys*, fail to grasp what’s happening right before their eyes. Or, grasping it, disregard the tangible evil in favor of fantastical theoretical journeys to the “source” of the evil, which, they reason, is the only recourse to eliminating the influence of deranged and feels-propped ideologies shaping government policy RIGHT NOW.

CH is well-versed in the pleasures of excavating downward through cultural detritus to find the root causes of feminism and it’s parent evilology Equalism, and of offering solutions. Being “anti-feminist” and being a “root cause-ist” aren’t mutually exclusive; if anything, these stances are mutually reinforcing. And, procedural note, managerialism is likely not the ultimate source of feminism; that dishonor more likely belongs to genetic changes brought on by NW European excessive outbreeding.

But yeah, go ahead and spend your sadistic capital mocking anti-feminists as one after another feminist proposal sees the light of day and earns public acceptance and protection from realtalk ridicule. Meantime, see how far talk about “managerialism” severed from the actual lying propagandists thriving within the managerialist system gets you with the voters. Nah, I prefer my shivs aimed for the solar plexus, at the filthy fucking liars pushing their gruel down a gullible people’s throats.

I get why some men dismiss the threat of feminism. Some are low intensity suburbanites happy to have settled for dutiful and loving frump wives who cook for them and pursue lifestyles totally removed from the sphere of feminist babble. Others date cutiepie sorority types who haven’t so much as uttered the word “feminist” their whole lives. Still others have been out of the dating market for ten or twenty years and have lost touch with the energies that guide women’s mate choices and the pro-feminist social lubrications which younger urban SWPLette women easily imbibe and regurgitate.

To these men, white knighting comes naturally because they don’t see any direct line from the easygoing women in their own lives to the feminist assault on innate sex differences and, ultimately, on Western civilization. And yet, when the reasonable women they know enter the voting booth, a majority of them vote for feminism-loving politicians, and the skew is especially pronounced if they’re unmarried. If that gives you hope, do note that single women are a growing demographic cohort.

The day-to-day details of the non-confrontational, marginally empowered, platitude parroting woman hardly impress as antidotes to seismic feminist lies when job purges for crimethink are becoming the norm and government policy is twisting into pretzels to accommodate femcunt poopytalk. Maybe you think-tankingly believe quoting a few Burnham passages is the panacea to the black tentacle goo of feminism and equalism corrupting a new institution by the day. It could be, but people respond better to real world enemies identified and engaged.

Women are natural followers. You attack feminism and ostracize its advocates to lead women away from its carrion call. You do this in conjunction with deeper exegeses on root causes for Western social and cultural dissolution. Every attack angle counts when the castle is under siege. The front line is everywhere.

Or you could derp about anti-feminist bitter divorcees and nerdy incels (characterizations which, by the way, aren’t true to life; the most joyous anti-feminists I know are happy-go-lucky players who get laid at will), and watch from the sidelines as yet another workaday stiff is tossed out on his rump by cackling hags offended by a lame dongle joke.

As a related afterthought, I wonder if leftoids understand the logical end goal of all their anti-pay gap agit-prop? Do they sincerely want a world where everyone, despite his talent or efforts, is awarded a $100K annual lifetime salary? Just level the playing field completely and be done with their griping. Some people are hard-wired to work no matter the recompense or status compression, but surely there will be millions of marginal cases who will say “fuck it” and drop out to collect the same salary doing nothing. And then you can kiss your comfortable cosmopolitan life goodbye.

That’s the thermal exhaust port of leftoid equalists: they never think through the consequences of their spur-of-the-moment feels.

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When yer lurvable CH manor lord was a wee lad sprinkled with fresh down, many illusory obstacles set themselves in his path to mastering the hearts of newly teenaged girls in the plum ripeness of supercuteness. He would carefully listen to them dictate to friends in squealing cadence the qualities they loved about the boys they loved. Words like “cute”, “hottie”, “great body”, “muscular”, “flat stomach”, “bedroom eyes”, “so sweet” and related would zip around from ear to ear, never reaching a depth of analysis beyond the barest superficiality.

Schoolboy CH would then examine himself for this or that girl-approved quality and decide he had come up short compared to the handful of boys who best exemplified what the girls claimed they loved. Momentarily discouraged, CH grit his teeth and put into motion plans of passionate adolescence that would vault him to the ranks of the beloved.

But a funny thing happened on the way to molding himself into the male blueprint drafted by girltongue: CH stayed alert long enough to notice the kinds of boyfriends all that supple teenflesh eventually began to gravitationally orbit. These boyfriends were, in the unsparing judgment only a teenage boy can summon, neither cute nor hot nor muscular nor temperamentally sweet. They were quite often funny-looking, soft, pudgy, awkwardly bony, and clearly unsweet. They did not have bedroom eyes; they had mole eyes.

But one thing they DID have, and a lot of, was preternatural confidence. They walked and talked with bravado. They stood athwart their girlfriends with impassive stubbornness. They nodded with a glaze of coerced recognition in the general direction of the girls who were showering them with admiration and affection. They moped with a practiced air of perpetual dissatisfaction. They were heartlessly cruel and emotionally blank. They crushed romantic hopes like a bulldozer smashing grub life to mush.

And beautiful babes loved them.

From those earliest beginnings, a truism about the soul of woman would guide CH to the heights of romantic bliss. He had learned, and not a moment too soon, to watch what women do and ignore what they say about their romantic needs. For all the men who knew nothing about what women wanted, even fewer women knew themselves.

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There is much hand-wringing by the hypocrati over the below-replacement fertility rates of overeducated, urban leftoid, credentialist suck-up, status whoring SWPLs. However will civilization carry on if our progressive snarkmeisters disappear down the sinkhole of Darwinian finality?

Well, I’m here to tell you that Western civilization will carry on quite well, and certainly better than it has the past 60 years. For evidence of the source of my sureness, review this quote by Thomas Aquinas on the Catholic Church’s prohibition of cousin marriage aka inbreeding:

Afterwards, however, towards these latter times the prohibition [against cousin marriage] of the Church has been restricted to the fourth degree, because it became useless and dangerous to extend the prohibition to more remote degrees of consanguinity. Useless, because charity waxed cold in many hearts so that they had scarcely a greater bond of friendship with their more remote kindred than with strangers: and it was dangerous because through the prevalence of concupiscence and neglect men took no account of so numerous a kindred, and thus the prohibition of the more remote degrees became for many a snare leading to damnation.

Aquinas was a man who rightly perceived the dangers inherent in both too little and too much outbreeding. (Were we blessed with such wise men today!) Inbreeding encourages clan-based violence and decreases social trust, two consequences that are anathema to the development of modern civ. But too much outbreeding (EatPrayBang!) decreases charitable kin-feeling and incentivizes a decadent ennui that severs the citizen’s sense of obligation to his nation and co-ethnics.

Where is this thought leading? The native stock of the West is clearly suffering from a mental sickness caused by too much outbreeding. Universalism is the religion of liberal whites, and they cleave so strongly to this secular religion that they are happy, nay overjoyed!, to throw the borders open and bequeath their hard-won territory and culture to battalions of Third Worlders and other temperamentally distant aliens, who of course given large enough numbers will promptly, whether wittingly or consequentially, execute its destruction.

The liberal SWPLs’ universalist instinct is so deeply embedded that it’s become a danger to their own reproductive fitness. If it were just themselves they were (unproductively) screwing, that would be fine; unfortunately they’re screwing everyone who has to live under their administrative tyranny.

So it is with great sadistic glee that I put two and two together and conclude that the passing of the sweep of SWPL liberals into the prolapsed hole of history will prove, ultimately, a good thing for the reconstitution and continuation of Western civilization, and in particular of America. Whether through the act of some subconscious calculation, or environmental disincentive, or perhaps via a divinely directed cosmic rebalancing working magic on the impervious hindbrains of self-destructive fools, the children of universalist leftoids are fewer by the hour, and their complete demise closer by the day.

We should be welcoming this fitness adjustment for the ray of hope it delivers. Prosperity can turn on accidental fortune. Runaway universalism, it would appear, contains the seed of its doom, and in its death there will be rebirth. The gods of the copybook headings will have their laugh at last.

So pass out the condoms, fire up the abortion mills, parade the sluts, stream the cuck porn, shove those freebie Pills down the throats of SWPL princesses, and bask in your righteousness, knowing that your tribute in distasteful utilitarianism will pay handsome rewards to your posterity.

Truly, the SWPL is the cuckold of the world. Pronounce it “swipple”. Let it snap off the lips with pleasing hatefulness. It stands for “white person who gets a leetle chill down his neck when a black doctor is on the TV”. Remind the SWPL in your company that there is no moral obligation to uplift the world’s wretched refuse. If they balk, remind them again of their atheism.

SWPL is the cuckold of the world
Yes he is…think about it
SWPL is the cuckold of the world
Think about it…do something about it

We make him sit in the corner and watch
If he won’t be a cuck
we say that he’s a bigot

If he’s real, we say he’s
trying to be a racist
While pulling his pud he
pretends that he is above us

SWPL is the cuckold of the world…yes he is
If you don’t belive me take a
look to the one you’re with
SWPL is the slave of
the slaves
Ah yeah…better screem
about it
We make him pay and raise
our children
And then we leave him flat for
being a cuckold beta male
We tell him home is only a
fantasy
Then we complain that he’s
too pale-skinned to be a man

SWPL is the cuckold of the world…yes he is
If you don’t belive me take a
look at the manboob filth
SWPL is the slave of
the slaves
Yeah (think about it)

We insult him everyday on TV
And wonder why he has no
guts or confidence
When he’s young we kill his
will to be free
While telling him there’s no such thing as smarts
we put him down for being so dumb

SWPL is the cuckold of the world…yes he is
If you don’t belive me take a
look at John Scalzi’s tits
SWPL is the slave of
the slaves
Yes he is…if you belive me,
you better screem about it.

Repeat:
We make him pull his
pud and prance
We make him trash his
seed for laughs
We make him axe his
balls as penance
We make him rend his
soul in half

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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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A grateful reader writes to say thanks to the demidongle of CH for changing his love life for the better,

I have to start out by saying thank you for this site. It has certainly opened my eyes and cured me of my societal conforming. Like most men I have had a couple good relationships, a couple bad, and some flings, ons’s in between. Your typical guy if you will. To preface this e-mail I had a 7y relationship as a young man and a couple year and a half ones up until this point. The first one taught me a lot about life, love etc. the ones that followed them were shit. In July of this year I met my current gf. After assessing this relationship time and time again I realize she is one of those girls that needs a guy in control, but if you’re not, she fucking hates you and the resentment infects her body like the plague. Ive seen both sides of it. Her undying affection and love; and her seething resentment. Her dad was absent in her life therefore she tends to overcompensate with the “control” of her life. She’s never trusted anyone to take care of her but herself. A wall to break through for sure.

Im one of those guys who learned to not care too much about the women I didn’t care about (naturally), and care a lot for the ones I do care for. So an aloof alpha when it didn’t matter, and a beta when it does. [ed: a common male malady] So I got into this relationship and things went fantastically for a few months and then she started in on me about things. From how we were before in the honeymoon phase I just figured well I’ll do what she wants and Ill be fine. Wrong. I couldn’t figure out why she was still requiring more from me after doing what she wanted. She was still unhappy. “you aren’t doing this”, “you aren’t doing that” “I cant live like this”… So I supplicated more, and more, until my brain was going to explode from the confusion. We had a few blow out fights that was basically my frustration for her unhappiness exploding, and her continuing to complain. I told her “you ask me to leap and I fucking leap, what the hell else do you want me to do?”.  But she would still tell me that she loved me even though at the same time she was telling me she was unhappy and treating me like a doormat. She never stopped telling me she loved me. Which probably confused me more. My fight or flight response was on FLIGHT but something kept me there..

So I was fed up, had no solution to the problem, I do love her and with my mr fix it attitude in full effect along with my commitment and resiliency.. I needed a solution. So I found your site… read the commandments. Read the beta/ alpha posts. Keeping attraction in a relationship. The story about the experiment with the husband and wife was especially eye opening. So from reading a lot of the posts that pertained to myself I decided to do what seemed counter intuitive. I chilled the fuck out, mentally strengthened myself and decided to love her fully even through her storm of emotions. One of the commandments states:

“Her emotions are a hurricane, her soul a saboteur. Think of yourself as a bulwark against her tempest. When she grasps for a pillar to steady herself against the whipping winds or yearns for an authority figure to foil her worst instincts, it is you who has to be there… strong, solid, unshakeable and immovable.”

So I stopped supplicating to everything. I started defending myself. She’d ask me what I wanted and then shit test me with “well why would you do it like that, that makes no sense, that’s stupid” So I said “you asked me what I wanted, I told you, and you aren’t happy with that. Don’t want my opinion, don’t ask for it” she just about fell over. I stood my ground. She left for work pissed but I didn’t go after her. I ignored it. She called me about 2 hours later to make sure everything was ok and was overjoyed to talk about what we were going to do that night for dinner. It was peculiar but I just went along with it. She came home and was like an excited girl again. A small victory. And a promising insight into her psyche. There have been many times since then (about 3 weeks ago) that she’s done the same and I’ve stood my ground. In that time she’s gone from seething resentment to joyful love again, which I enjoy along with the increase in fucking that has come because of it.

The last thing I’d like to say is that the guy I’ve been for the last month since finding your site is the guy I have always been.  I just thought that since I cared so much that I needed to conform to her wishes to make her happy. But she just wanted a man who was a fucking man and was going to put her back into her place. In turn that made her love even more, and come after me. She was testing my ability to lead the relationship and I was failing. She knows exactly what shes doing, and so do I, I just didn’t understand it. She was shit testing me every fucking day. So I stopped coming after her about what is wrong, why she’s quiet, just let her fucking be. The other day sitting on the couch she looks at me and says “I need you” I said “ok”, “no like I need you, I don’t know what I would do without you”…

Shes crazy. But my ultimate success is taming her, it’s a fucking game. It always is. I get off on it as sadistic as that seems.

Thanks Chateau Heartiste. You rock. You can use my story but please no personal information. And just because I know you get a lot of trolls I can tell you I most certainly am not. Hopefully some shit made sense in my rambling. Thanks again.

When strangers seeking answers amble across Chateau grounds and peer into its dusty libraries, two kinds of reactions follow:

1. Screeching and shrieking about the horror of this place, or

2. Solemn thanks of appreciation for saving a life.

Some people you just can’t reach. But some… they’re ready to be happy. The door is always open for them.

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