Archive for the ‘Hungry Hungry Hippos’ Category


Their body language is a dead giveaway. She’s leaning into him body and head, he’s leaning away from her. Charitably, he can’t support her weight. Uncharitably, he’s already withdrawing in preparation of the many years he has ahead to come to terms with his defeat.

The resolution isn’t strong enough to determine if his eyes betray the listless vacancy of a wed man walking.

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Girls may be sugar and spice and everything nice, but in the no holds barred, winner take all tournament to the procreative death known as the sexual market women are just as ruthless – perhaps more ruthless – than are men to their same sex competition.

How do women undermine other women? They employ two strategies.

1. Ostracism/shaming.

Ostracism is public shaming. And despite the torrent of nonsense, (of which feminists have a seemingly inexhaustible supply), asserting that men are the primary slut and fatty shamers, that honor actually belongs to women.

2. Disinformation.

The other tactic women deploy to kneecap their competition is far more invidious. Women are adept at the art of disinformation campaigns, a strategy that both superficially soothes the fragile egos of other women and manipulates them (borrowing a legal term) to declare against interest.

Disinformation is essentially the propagandizing of pretty lies. Its power rests on an implied flattery. “You don’t need to slim down to find love, because you’re great just the way you are!” The hope of disinformation propagators is that their marks are gullible enough to follow their bad advice, thus reducing the number of sexy female competitors for the tiny pool of desirable alpha men.

(Remember from the CH archives that women feel the pressure of the sexual market more acutely, in part because there are far fewer alpha men for all the women who want them than there are bangable attractive women for all the men who want them for at least a night.)

A classic example of strategy #2 is this PuffedHo demotivational poster.

bikini is now a synonym for elephant hide

Women, especially loser women, love love love to hear these platitudes that validate their romantic worth, but the reality that would result if women followed this deceptive advice is more fat and ugly women (waddling around beaches in tent canvases) and more desirable men focusing all their attention on shrinking numbers of slender women. A sexual desirability skew of this nature would be a godsend for the hotties, who would experience an increase in their options so profound that the entire SMV sorting system would seismically shift. Thin cuties would be able to amass multiple greater beta orbiters and extract commitment from alphas who would otherwise pump and dump them or ignore them for hotter prospects in a dating market within which female attractiveness was more evenly distributed.

It is therefore in the interest of every red-blooded man to call out this manipulative female bullshit wherever and whenever he sees it. It is his DUTY to warn women against the forked tongue of other women seeking to cripple their competition with fat and ugliness apologia. Beauty is truth. Aesthetics is no mere formality hinting at deeper revelations. Aesthetics IS revelation. Chateau Heartiste has made this maxim central to its mission statement with full understanding of its cosmic importance and its centrality to all that is good and true.

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Most of you are familiar with Occam’s Razor, the principle that of two or more competing theories to explain a phenomenon, the simplest one is likely the true one.

With a nod to Occam, CH introduces Orca’s Razor.

Orca’s Razor: Of two or more competing theories for why men don’t want to date fat chicks, the most spurious, most convoluted, and least plausible explanation that assuages the egos of fat chicks and their barely male enablers will be insisted as the correct one.

A case study of Orca’s Razor in action (via reader yeahokcool):

from the front lines of tortured logic (see comments):

guy: I’ve dated a lot of heavier girls and I’ve definitely felt the judgement from other men. The problem isn’t that men don’t like big girls; it’s that men don’t like the way other men look at them when they’re with big girls.

girl: Yeah, I don’t think this is commentary on forcing yourself to be attracted to someone who you’re not attracted to. It’s about letting societal pressure bully you out of being attracted to someone who you ARE attracted to.

reality: yes, you are being judged by other men and women because you are everyone innately knows that only losers are fat and/or date fat people. furthermore, women fail, yet again, to realize that their attraction to men is entirely different than men’s attraction to women. i love how much women (fat ones, particularly, i imagine) just WANT these comments to be true!

Orca’s Razor is in effect the inverse of Occam’s Razor. Instead of slicing away superfluous concepts, Orca’s Razor slices the most elegant explanation to shreds, and then presents as incontrovertible fact the id gruel that is a mix of the viscera of various feelgood theories that were made up from whole cloth with the express purpose of avoiding and nullifying the simplest and truest explanation for why men are repulsed by fat girls.

Occam’s Razor: Men don’t date fat chicks because fat chicks are disgusting to look at.

Orca’s Razor: Men don’t date fat chicks because men secretly like fat chicks but have to suppress their urges to avoid being looked at in a funny, judgmental way from other men.

Like most equalist cant, Orca’s Razor is poopytalk pumped at high volume to fill you to the eyeballs with shit so you’re blinded to reality. No one is ever truly blinded to reality, as we can see by the real life decisions that people make even inside hothouse leftoid reeducation camps, but that won’t stop the walrus warriors from rolling over to crush newborn realtalk that chafes their megafauna hides.


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E’rebody not in da club getting tipsy over this blubbery fat chick scene from a recent Louis CK episode.

For reasons that cannot be explained by the established laws of logic, a great hue and squeal from the ungulate freak parade has arisen to rejoice over this scene as a breakthrough for Realtalk™ about the lives of fat chicks.

“As brilliant as the speech is, and as brilliant as Baker’s performance is, what makes this work is Louie’s willingness to just stand there and take it,” Forbes contributor Allen St. John writes. “He makes a few lame gestures in self-defense, but even if Vanessa largely refuses to judge him, we don’t. Louie is a jerk.”

Baker told EW she thought the scene “was so beautifully written.”

“My interpretation of it was that she’s (telling Louie), ‘You saying, “You’re not fat,” is like saying, ‘The worst thing a woman can be is fat, so I’m not gonna call you that,’ ” Baker said. “Whereas she’s kinda like, ‘Yeah, I’m fat. You know, I’m nice, I’m funny, I’m cute — so who cares?’ “

Writing for the A.V. Club, Libby Hill applauded Louis C.K. for starting the conversation.

“No matter how sad it may be that the only way many will start to understand this maligned populace is if a white guy explains it to them, the fact remains that through the platform of his critically acclaimed show, Louis C.K. has given voice to the fat girl,” she writes.

Funny, all I saw was a fat girl bitch about how tough it is for her to date and have happy relationships. This is news to anyone? No, of course it isn’t. The keepers of GoodSpeak want this scene to stand in for a “national discussion” about yet another loser cohort of society so that they can mold the direction the ensuing “discussion” takes. And you can bet the direction the Hivemind keepers want to take it is toward more and more proselytizing about how wonderful it is to be a fat girl (fat men get a media pass from this supposed wonderfulness) and how easily fat girls can get men when they aren’t demanding that men stop ignoring them and love them for their inner beauty.

Frustratingly for the Hivemind, Chateau Heartiste exists to jam sand in their sophistic gears. For example, here’s the true message of the Louis CK fat girl screed with all the tears and passive-aggressiveness and barely concealed entitlement stripped from her big-boned frame.

FATTY: Why do you hate us so much?

That’s not hate, Ms Wideload, that’s disgust. Fat chicks are like wet dog shit. You don’t hate the dog shit, you just don’t want to step in it.

Now if the dog shit starts making a nuisance of itself, say, by getting in your face and demanding you accept its under-appreciated beauty, or by organizing dog shit advocacy groups to change culture and law to better accommodate the feelings of dog shit, and to persuade others to become more like dog shit, then one may feel actual hate toward the dog shit.

FATTY: What is it about the basics of human happiness, feeling attractive, feeling loved, having guys chase after us, that’s just not in the cards for us?

To ask is to answer. Romantic attraction is biological, which is ultimately genetic, which means it is unalterable by weepy protests to the contrary or by reeducation camps masquerading as sitcoms. Most men are as repulsed by fat women as most women are repulsed by weak men.

FATTY: How is that fair?

Fairness has got nothin’ to do with it.

FATTY: And why am I supposed to just accept it?

Because you don’t yet have the legal recourse to force men to bed with porkers.

FATTY: You know what’s funny? I flirt with guys, all the time.

The uglier the woman, the more actively she has to communicate her sexual receptivity.

FATTY: And I mean, the great looking ones, like the really high caliber studs, they flirt right back, no problem.

They know they have a better shot with your hot skinny friend if they’re magnanimous with you.

FATTY: But guys like you never flirt with me, because you get scared, like maybe you should be with a girl like me.

More like, they’re worried that flattering a fat chick will give her the wrong idea.

FATTY: You know, if you were standing over there, looking at us, you know what you’d see? That we totally match.

Fat chick projection. Physically a fat man and fat girl match, but men’s SMV is more than the sum of their fat deposits.

FATTY: Have you ever wooed a fat girl?

I’ve mooed a fat girl.

FATTY: Go ahead, hold my hand. What do you think’s gonna happen? Do you think your dick’s gonna fall off?

No, it’s much worse than that for the fat girl. His dick won’t do anything.

FATTY: You know what’s sad? That’s all I want.

Lack of options = low standards.

Some mush-headed liberals, though, are unhappy with the message.

But not everyone is a fan. Writer Dan Weiss explored the episode for The Concourse, noting that “there’s zero representation for actual FAs (‘fat admirers,’ which is admittedly a voyeuristic term; I prefer the classic ‘chubby chaser’) on TV.”

I prefer the term fatty fucker. And if the wailing of fat chicks is any indication, there aren’t nearly enough desirable fatty fuckers to feast at the porcine troughs of America’s fatties.

In this putatively “groundbreaking” Louis CK scene that has the Jezebel hags dizzy with the possibility of careening down a fresh semantic path that defies the mirror, Louis is no more a jerk than is any woman who turns down a man for insufficiently meeting her attractiveness criteria. But since the lamentable is a fat chick instead of an awkward beta male it’s socially acceptable to sympathize with her loser pain and revile the man who presumptuously clings to his outmoded sexual preference.

Conflict, and unfairness, are intrinsic to the sexual market. Attraction is innate and impervious to cultural campaigns to alter its algorithm. If fat chicks resent that, there is a solution…

Push away from the table.

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Read this OkCupid profile and try to guess the sex of the person who wrote it.

Don’t read further until you’ve made your guess.




Still guessing?











These are your American women. Delightfully feminine bunch, ain’t they? This profile, minus a few giveaways, could easily pass for the braggadocio of a fraternity brother.

And brow-furrowed femcunts wonder why men won’t “man up” and marry these drunk slatterns.

The blocked out part was a brag about her blowjob technique. Translation: She’s a fat sow who has to advertise her sexual depravity to get any attention from the losers she likely hooks up with once in a fat moon.

Grotesqueries like this beast exist. The revelation for a lot of people would be the kind of “lovers” she manages to score. I bet a lot of proud feminists claiming satisfying love lives would abandon the opinionator sphere if pictures of their “””boyfriends”””” and unbiased third-party accounts of the charming personalities of the men who lap the smegma of their moldy feminist snappers were to become public knowledge.

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Fat apologists:

Environmental shocks:

Keepin’ it real.

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Facebook Likes are a cancer on society. They glorify feels and enervate reason. They abet lies and exile truth. But they do perform a valuable service for the keen observer of civilizational decay. The FB Like, and what gets Liked most, are revealing glimpses into a nation’s character, and especially the character of its women, for whom Facebook Likes are happy drugs for their gluttonous egos. Remove the Like, and severe withdrawal symptoms manifest, similar to the effects one sees from the psychological damage that incurs after an extended stint in an isolation chamber.

A reader passes along two telling examples.

I found these two pictures today on my FB friend’s feed.  (They aren’t my friends, fortunately, but they are friends of friends.)  Both got lots of “likes” and supportive comments.  I thought of you as soon as I saw them.

Since most of Facebook is a wasteland of middling SMV women patting each other on the backs for awe-inspiring accomplishments like getting knocked up by a black guy or sucking down in one gulp a boat of sugar through a straw, it’s fair to say that what gets Liked is what American women like. And what American women like is, to put a coarse point on it, a mountain of shit.

What do American women and their yappy beta orbiters like so much that they feel compelled to craft a public consensus of their PC boilerplate?
- Mystery meat fetuses.
- Interracial dating.
- Male empathy pregnancies.
- Fat chicks.
- Fat chicks feeding like swine on ice cream sundaes that could sustain a family of four for a week.
- Fat chicks feeding like swine while insouciantly arched eyebrows that demand acceptance leap from their bloated brows.

Could this country and its people be going down the shitter any faster? Forget Rome’s historical precedence. America is in double-time decline, setting new records of scraping bottom as we speak. I think I will dub this Millennifag cohort the Like Me Generation. “Like me, because if you don’t I’ll have a mental breakdown as the realization that I’m a mediocrity sweeps over me. Nothing less than total unanimity in judgment of my awesomeness and the rightness of my knee-jerk emotional opinions will keep me alive another day.”

Yeah, no. I think instead I will take this shiv and give it an extra twist in your guts, just because I like… yes, Like… watching you effete nancies and spluttering mutants scream bloody murder. And you know what? The country will become a place truly worth liking for your suffering.

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