Archive for the ‘Marriage Is For Chumps’ Category

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The Silent Castrati

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First things first. Tear down that sticker chart.

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New research examining marital patterns in the Disunited States is out, and it’s not looking good for the nuptial blissers (or for the civilization gatekeepers).

Marriage Rate Lowest in a Century

Fewer women are getting married and they’re waiting longer to tie the knot when they do decide to walk down the aisle. That’s according to a new Family Profile from the National Center for Family and Marriage Research (NCFMR) at Bowling Green State University.

According to “Marriage: More than a Century of Change,” the U.S. marriage rate is 31.1, the lowest it’s been in over a century. That equals roughly 31 marriages per 1,000 married women. Compare that to 1920, when the marriage rate was a staggering 92.3.

Since 1970, the marriage rate has declined by almost 60 percent. “Marriage is no longer compulsory,” said Dr. Susan Brown, co-director of the NCFMR. “It’s just one of an array of options. Increasingly, many couples choose to cohabit and still others prefer to remain single.”

Furthermore, a woman’s average age at first marriage is the highest it’s been in over a century, at nearly 27 years old. “The age at first marriage for women and men is at a historic highpoint and has been increasing at a steady pace,” states Dr. Wendy Manning, co-director of the Center.

Well, that’s one way to avoid the temptation to cheat and deep six your marriage: Get married when you’re older and have fewer sexual market options.

There has also been a dramatic increase in the proportion of women who are separated or divorced. In 1920, less than 1 percent of women held that distinction. Today, that number is 15 percent. “The divorce rate remains high in the U.S., and individuals today are less likely to remarry than they were in the past,” reports Brown.

Welcome to the Eat, Pray, Love iteration of America: E – Eat ourselves to death. P – Pray we still got it. L – Love our cats.

The marriage rate has declined for all racial and ethnic groups, but the greatest decline is among African Americans. Similarly, the education divide in marriage has grown. In the last 50 years there have been only modest changes in the percentage of women married among the college educated and the greatest declines among women without a high school diploma.

It’s ironic that the pointless lib-arts over-education that correlates with women getting married also correlates with them staying childless. Meanwhile, Clevon and Anfernee pop out ten parasites by their single mom weekday flings. What was the whole point of marriage, again? To encourage and sanctify responsible procreation and child-rearing, right? No, no, how silly of me. Times have changed. Marriage is now all about celebrating multiple forms of love, like butthex and cuckold fetishism and, coming soon to a Detroit near you, polygamy.

Was Idiocracy just about the most prescient movie ever made?

None of this depressing news should be any surprise to regular guests of Le Chateau. We were the first to make the connection between the social rot and the Six Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse, and we will be the first to rub it in the faces of the lords of lies when this whole shit show comes perilously close to oozing in on their guarded gated communities.

In silver lining news, casual, no strings attached sex with smart, sassy white chicks has never been easier to get.

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Is it really good for the children to see their father so pathetically emasculated on a daily basis? That’s the question that swirls around July’s Beta of the Month candidate, a broken man who continues living under the same roof (for which he likely foots the full bill) with his happy ex-wife in a refitted “divorce house” that’s partitioned down the middle.

Monica McGrath and Kent Kirkland are divorced parents of two young children. They live in one house with their children, call themselves friends and borrow sugar from one another.

The Edmonton family gained Canada-wide recognition this month after media attention turned to their family set-up and living arrangements. Part of this attention was due to their custom-built “transporter” house, with two separate sides and a hallway connecting them, but also because they’re doing what many separated couples say they want to do; put the kids first. [...]

Their family model is a version of a “bird’s nest” arrangement where children stay in the house, while separated or divorced parents come to them. Some see this as a model that helps minimize disruption for children. It means they don’t have to be uprooted, trekking from one parent’s house to another’s on a regular basis. Although this model is still rare, experts say it has become increasingly common over the last 10 years. [...]

The adults live on separate sides of the house with a wall between them. Their children’s bedrooms are at one end of the house and connect to both sides through a hallway with a door to mom’s side and a door to dad’s side. The parents alternate childcare week by week. When it’s one parent’s week, the other locks their hallway door.

“They’re both a lot happier now,” Mr. Kirkland says of their children. “Now if they want to see mom, it’s really easy for them to do it.”

Everyone in this family is smiling except for the house eunuch:

Details of his lurid soul castration follow.

They separated in 2010 and have already crossed the hurdle of dating other people, though both are currently single. Ms. McGrath and Mr. Kirkland say that their family arrangement takes priority and that a new partner would need to respect this.

Nine times out of ten in similar situations it’s the ex-wife who’s doing the banging with newly acquired pump and dumpers while the ex-husband has to stuff his ears with pillows to block the thumping moans of sex emanating through the walls.

But as might be expected, there are cons that come with living next door to your ex.

“The emotional side of things…” says Mr. Kirkland. “As Monica put it, there are still feelings and not all of them positive feelings.”

The only sure cure for an ex-wife is moving out of the country and covering all your tracks. Or, you can be all the beta you wanna be and share an exquisitely demarcated home with an ex-wife who loves taking photos of your hang-dog face to show the world how much she has your balls in a vise.

In related news, the West is still collapsing. Event horizon endgame should be any day now.

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A reader writes,

If this isn’t a bad prognostication for a marriage, then I don’t know what is.

A friend of mine recently tied the knot with his college girlfriend. I admittedly do not know the bride very well, but generally she can be controlling and tough to warm up to. When you look at the picture attached, it’s apparent she hasn’t even warmed up to…her own husband.

Yes, that’s the couple’s first official kiss as a married couple. Except it’s not a kiss. His bride denied him, physically pushed him away, and proceeded to give him the cheek when he awkwardly went in for the kiss.

Seeing him, pathetically and helplessly, hunched over like that on top of his wife fills me with pity. If his wife can’t even comply to her man on their wedding day what hope is there in the future. Any takers on how long into the marriage before she starts withholding sex?

Also, as you can see in the photos the wedding was presided not by a priest, but by the bride’s fatass sister.

I’ve been to a fair number of weddings, and I’ve never seen a blushing bride’s visceral distaste for her husband quite this transparently revealed. Most women who have hornswoggled a beta provider with tacit promises of endless hot marital sex have enough self-control and presence of mind to at least make a show of it when witnesses are present, even if that show is nothing more than a quick, pursed lip kiss followed by a rapid whole body turn to relievedly face the cameras. But I suppose when the star witness is your fat sister with a Unitardian Ministry Certificate from E-Cunts.com, no one really gives a shit that you recoil when your husband kamikazes with moist chimp lips but winds up smacking air. It’s all fun and games until he’s pulling his pud to porn six months into a sexless marriage, and contemplating suicide-by-family-court five years in.

I bet the bachelorettes all wore vintage Great Bonghits For Men T-shirts at the bitchelorette party that said ALPHA FUX, BETA BUX.

(Speaking of, you can trace the accelerating decline of America to the point in cultural history when the bachelorette party surpassed the bachelor party in significance.)

Proof, as if any more were needed, that getting a woman to marry you is not hard. What’s hard is getting a woman to love you.


The reader who sent in the pics relays the following:

fwiw i was definitively told the pictures i submitted to you were the initial pictures of the brides reaction to the kiss and any other photos were after that fact.

All right, folks. There it is. You may now return to your regularly scheduled food fight.

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Some religious organizations have long argued that widespread contraception use leads to higher divorce rates because severing the connection between sex and procreation also severs the emotional connection between spouses. The duty one feels to one’s spouse is weakened when the primal bonds of sex and the consequences which normally follow in the state of nature are thwarted.

They may have a point, but I’m going to present what I believe is a more compelling reason why contraception use (predominately the Pill) and divorce track each other so closely. For a graphical representation of how closely the rate of Pill usage and the rate of divorce have tracked over time, see this (original source here):

That five year lag time between the rise in pill use and divorce is critical. It’s solid evidence that once women had the Pill down their throats, they began escaping their marriages in droves.

The Pill is one of the Six Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse. Like opening Clamdora’s Box, the Pill is one of the six crimson spirits that now haunt the world and visit upon the civilized West far-reaching unintended (and perhaps intended) negative effects. Why would Pill usage contribute to a rise in the divorce rate? For an answer to that, you have to look to women first, and how the Pill alters their perceptions of men.

And what the Pill does to women’s brains is… how shall we say… veeeery interestink. Women on the Pill experience a shift in their mate selection criteria and begin to prefer plodding dads over plotting cads. Actually, not so much prefer boring betas as avoid sexy alphas.

Extrapolating from this premise is enlightening. What do most delicious SWPL sluts women using oral contraceptives do once they get married, or not long after getting married? That’s right, they go off the Pill so that they can start a family. And what happens when women go off the Pill? Their hindbrains shed the fog of feeling satisfied with beta male cuddles and revert to adoring sexy alpha male power thrusts, and that adoration reaches maximum cervical impact one week per month when fertile.

So perhaps the Pill and its relation to divorce is not so much about severing emotional connections as it is about reconstructing sexual connections. The wife whose lust is freed from the false prison of the Pill will suddenly, and quite inexplicably to her conscious evaluation, discover her beta husband — the man who fulfilled her in most ways when she was on the Pill — is sexually repulsive. This disgust will reach a crescendo 25% of the time of her pre-menopausal life, and she will either succumb to cheating with a more dominant man, or she will do the “right thing” and leave a marriage that is making her unhappy because her beta betrothed-turned-beta bother doesn’t know how to “communicate” with her and “meet her needs”.

And of course the beta hubschlub, tricked by the Pill’s abetting and steeped in his anti-male culture and believing everything the wife wants is good and true and everything the husband wants is wicked and false, will do the EXACT OPPOSITE of what he should do to reignite his wife’s post-Pill listing libido. He will crank up the beta, figuring that more of what sealed the deal in the first place is just the medicine to prevent the deal from breaking.

And he will be sorely mistaken, and for his good-faith efforts at reconciliation against the headwinds of unacknowledged and often heatedly denied biological reality the state will reward him with a family court ass-ramming so deep and girthful he will come to accept as a means of psychological emollient that his life is rightfully meant to be a dutifully suffered shitfest endured with stiff upper lip. And then he will be a dead man walking.

The problem of post-Pill wives losing their desire for their husbands is so bad that drug companies are trying to create a compensating pill — call it the Thrill — that will reinvigorate flagging female libidos. The intention is to cure “hypoactive sexual-desire disorder,” aka HSDD, by tapping into the primal recesses of the female brain and manipulating lustful brain lobes into activity.

The Thrill may work, but I bet not in the way the researchers intend. This is because the “problem” is not so much low female libido, but low female libido for their betaboy husbands. The added clause is crucial. A pill that fuels female clit boners will reawaken women… straight into the arms of interloper alpha males. Imagine a world of supercharged horny housewives boffing everyone in sight. Shit just got a lot more interesting.

A Thrill pill that tricks wives into perceiving their beta husbands as sexy romance novel stranger-from-afar badboy alphas may or may not work to strengthen the institution of marriage, but I can tell you one intervention that is GUARANTEED to help your marriage: Game. Specifically, dread game. A small adjustment in your mentality and behavior toward being more of an alpha male can gain you all the benefits of a thrill pill-popping wife with none of the dangerous side effects.

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So Tamerlan Tsarnaev, the older Muslim Boston bomber brother, had a loving white American wife of WASPy lineage who donned his approved Islamic head coverage and bore him his hell-spawnage. Some have asked, where was Katherine Russell’s father during her descent into badboy servitude? If the photo of the dad after news of Tamerlan’s death is any indication, the guy is giddy that his son-in-law is no longer for this world.

Arranged marriages don’t sound like much fun, but one problem with moving as a culture toward exclusively love-based marriage is that it neuters the ability of parents to exert any control over their daughters’ instinctual romantic compulsions. The ancients knew that women’s libidos were dangerous when left unchecked. But a culture that prizes doe-eyed love as the be-all and end-all of legitimate marriage must come to terms with the fact that many women love the wrong kinds of men. It’s in their genes.

When lust-fueled love as a basis for forming putative lifelong marital unions crowds out all other considerations, the influence that parents wield over their daughters’ mate choices gets winnowed as well. After all, who is a parent to say what his or her daughter feels? Love knows no reason. And so what you get is fathers like the one above, powerless to stop his daughter’s stupid decisions, and overjoyed when fate steps in to excise the cancer from his family that he wished he could excise himself, but never had the guts nor the informal societal support to do so.

Love makes betas of men, in more ways than one, and it would be wise to remember that some of those men are fathers whose authority has been gutted by the awesome power of love.

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In the March 2013 Beta of the Month contest, nominee #2 was a plush squeezable who constructed a twelve day extravaganza proposal for his chubby girlfriend, filmed it and set it to music by twelve indie band drummers (which must have cost a pretty penny, if they weren’t doing it as a favor for him). Commenter RappaccinisDaughter suggested a motivation for these elaborate proposal rituals:

The epic-proposal guy is forgivable because there’s kind of a cultural push in certain circles to plan ever-more-elaborate proposals. It’s more of a dick-measuring contest than anything else. He’s establishing among his circle that he’s the most clever, thoughtful, meticulous one among them.

Male status whoring? No. Men status whore by parading a hot babe on their arms. That’s how they deliver in the most direct manner possible the message that they have the goods to outcompete other men. No man that I know is impressed by a creatively exhaustive epic proposal event. If anything, men feel the opposite feeling when they are exposed to these courtship calisthenics by princess pedestalizing suck-up chumps: they feel disgust. Repugnance. Pity. Even contempt. No man watches one of these Cannes Film Festival proposals and thinks to himself, “Now there’s a high status alpha male I’d like to emulate.”

Usually what they’re saying to themselves instead is something like, “What a tool. She’s already got his balls in a jar.”

The reason is simple: Men sacrifice more by committing to marriage. It is the woman who is “alpha” for successfully extracting commitment from a man. A man who gives up his commitment is the equivalent of a woman who gives up her pussy; no skill involved, so no reflection on their respective statuses.

Here’s a better theory to explain the recent surge in elaborate, saccharine proposals:

It’s mate guarding behavior by beta males.

The beta male is essentially signaling to potential male competitors that his wife-to-be was so ostentatiously wooed by him she will never entertain the thought of cheating with another man, so don’t bother. He has her on “lock-down“. The elaborate proposal is also a mate guarding signal to the girlfriend that the beta male will jealously patrol the boundaries of his one-woman harem. It is perhaps even a signal to other women that he has enough energy to sustain the company of a mistress, although I would expect this latter reason to be more indicative of the machinations of a greater beta or alpha male.

Why would the elaborate proposal surge in frequency and fussiness in our current dystopian Beaver Runner society? Well, extreme mate guarding behavior is what you find in societies where paternity guarantee is low, fidelity guarantee is low, and cock carousel cad hopping risk is high. Or at least the normal social constraints on cock carouseling are loosened. Beta males in such societies are horribly outgunned by sexy cads, because the usual leverage that beta males bring to the marital table — their resources — has been devalued by women’s economic self-sufficiency and generous state and corporate largesse.

The game insight here should be clear: don’t mate guard. Or, more precisely, don’t transparently mate guard. If you mate guard, you signal your betatude. The more diligently you mate guard, the more your girl will perceive you as having few mate options other than herself, and her labia will wither like rose petals in a Texas drought. Because chicks dig dudes who could fuck other chicks if they had a mind to.

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Khaaaaan has a post up about a German study which purports to show that the cuckoldry rate — situations where the presumed father is not the biological father of the child — in Germany is around 1%. (Via Glpiggy.)

A few words on that. First, misattribution of paternity can occur in any number of ways. Steve Sailer left some good comments over at Khan’s blog that illustrate in real life, flesh and blood scenarios how cuckoldry rates can be misattributed. Nevertheless, I’m not here to argue that the 1% figure is wrong. In fact, the 1% figure is higher than I assumed. Look at it this way: That recorded 1% cuckoldry rate is more than 30 TIMES the US recorded rape rate of 0.03%.

Besides the actual rate, there are other angles to this id-loaded topic that are worth exploring.

A flaw in assuming present-day cuckoldry rates align with historical cuckoldry rates is the fairly recent widespread availability of contraceptives and abortion. How many women who sleep with interloper males are using birth control? Probably most, and more so if those women are higher SES. How many are aborting the fetus, should contraception fail or not be used, before hubby finds out or is doomed to raise a child as an unwitting cuckold? Again, I’d guess most. That 1% figure may simply be a reflection of the fact that cheap and effective modern contraceptives bite into a possibly larger historical cuck rate. And since our sexual natures are the product of millions of years of fine-tuning, it would make sense for male jealousy and mate-guarding instincts to have evolved, especially if the real cuckoldry rate (and not just the “don’t worry, I’m on the Pill” shadow cuckoldry rate in which the act is performed but the consequence is averted) in the environment of evolutionary adaptation was considerably higher than 1%.

Or: Don’t start hedging your bets that women are no more than 1% evil.

Then there is the issue of serial monogamy. Serial monogamy is much more the norm now than it was in the past. Women on second marriages (or on post-divorce second dating lives) bring their kids from the first marriage into any new relationship. As much as the new boyfriend or husband might not want those bastards around him, he is going to participate in their raising in some form or another if he plans on banging out the mother for any length of time greater than two weeks. He is, in effect, a de facto cuckold, albeit an informed and, presumably, voluntary one. (Though the definition of voluntary is a bit loose when one is put in the position of weighing the odds of future fux against the pain of supporting present bastards. Duress matters if you are a desperate beta male willing to put up with snot-nosed shit to get some floppy, aged action.)

Women, too, are subject to unwelcome participation in the raising of unrelated children if they are in second relationships with divorced single dads, but in practice this punishment is not meted out to women nearly as often as it is to men, because it is usually the ex-wife who has full-time custody of her kids, or the single mom who is solely raising her hatchlings, and hence it is usually the sloppy seconds beta male who is getting the screws by groveling for sexual relief from these SMV leftovers.

So there are really two kinds of cuckoldry: De facto and deceptive. The latter is far worse from a moral calculus (it really is the equivalent of female rape, except the pain is dragged out over eighteen years) but the former is no less an indictment of the growing dysfunction of the modern sexual market.

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Back in September of 2012, CH highlighted a study which showed that modern couples who share the housework are at far higher risk of divorce than couples where the woman does most of the domestic duties.

Divorce rates are far higher among “modern” couples who share the housework than in those where the woman does the lion’s share of the chores, a Norwegian study has found.

In what appears to be a slap in the face for gender equality, the report found the divorce rate among couples who shared housework equally was around 50 per cent higher than among those where the woman did most of the work.

Women have been claiming for God knows how long that they want a man who will do his share of the housework, but when he does, their vaginas dry up like the Sahara. You see, equality of the sexes is a myth. Women don’t *really* want equal husbands. What women want are strong husbands who don’t act like women, which means, in practice, not puttering around the house dusting, mopping, vacuuming, cooking, or doing the laundry.

Right on cue, feminists plugged their ears. The ones who stumbled into this happy hating ground tore at their pendulous breasts. Even the trolls had no room to maneuver a subterfuge.

As good as that post was, there is a new study out which may trump it in delicious equalist-eviscerating goodness. Following in the same vein as the study above, researchers discovered that married men who do more housework have less sex.

Husbands who spend more time doing traditionally female chores — such as cooking, cleaning, and shopping — reported having less sex than those who do more masculine tasks, said the study in the American Sociological Review.

“Our findings suggest the importance of socialized gender roles for sexual frequency in heterosexual marriage,” said lead author Sabino Kornrich, of the Center for Advanced Studies at the Juan March Institute in Madrid.

“Couples in which men participate more in housework typically done by women report having sex less frequently. Similarly, couples in which men participate more in traditionally masculine tasks — such as yard work, paying bills, and auto maintenance — report higher sexual frequency.” [...]

“The results suggest the existence of a gendered set of sexual scripts, in which the traditional performance and display of gender is important for creation of sexual desire and performance of sexual activity,” Kornrich said.

When men are men and women are women, the sex is more frequent. And probably hotter, too. When men are scalzied manboobs and women are manjawed feminists, the bedroom is an arid wasteland of dashed passion.

Sexual polarity — the primal force that adheres the cosmic cock to the celestial snatch — is the truth of truths that belies every feminist assertion ever made in the history of that insipid, leprotic ideology. May the losers of the world quake and fall to their knees before its divine directive.

This isn’t a truth borne of social constructs, or of cultural conditionings, or of privileges of privilege. It’s a truth woven into the fabric of our origin atoms, the glue that binds our helical commandments and reaches outward to breathe life into the monolith of our souls.

It is what is.

The “correlation is not causation” crowd will surely attempt a say with this study, but you know what? It won’t matter whether it’s a primarily correlational or causal force which accounts for the reality of this particular intrinsic sex-based dynamic. If you are a man interested in sparking your flailing marriage and reigniting your wife’s dying lust, and you have come here to the Chateau for guidance, I will tell you to put down the vacuum and laundry detergent and take up the power tools and lawn mower. Leave the womanly domestic chores for your woman, and the manly handyman chores for yourself. Do this, and your sex life will improve. I promise. And it won’t matter if it improved because you fixed a correlational or a causal upstream factor of your marital woes. You will have realigned the sexual polarity, and even a hardcore feminist’s vagina can’t resist the allure of that naturally evolved gender construct.

I really love these sorts of shivtastic studies. It’s almost as if Science approached the doors of Chateau Heartiste, asked to be let in, peered and poked around, and solemnly announced, “This house is clean”.

And if you are a sexy man, it will have been your wife who cleaned it.

PS Two of the authors of the original study are surnamed Sweet and Bumpass. Sweet. Bumpass. Sweet Bumpass. Yes. Sweet Bumpass? Meet Purple Saguaro. Sweet Bumpass and Purple Saguaro? Meet Skittles Man. Sweet Bumpass, Purple Saguaro and Skittles Man? Meet the Rationalization Hamster. And on the eighth day, CH rested.

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