Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Ridiculousness’ Category

Our devolving culture is disaggregating into its origin slime so rapidly it’s hard to distinguish parody from reality anymore. Behold:

Do not adjust your vertical or horizontal. What you are seeing is real. It’s an Obamacare ad campaign, currently appearing in Colorado (which means Coloradan taxpayers may be funding this flagrant farce). As an astute reader noted, advertising can be pretty creative when there’s only one choice on the menu.

Just when you think you’ve got a handle on how low the US elite can go catering to the orc and pork armies, a new shit pit is excavated. Ponder the above.

- Ebonics website URL (doyougotinsurance.com? what’s next? muhfugginfreeshit.com?)
– Fat ass chick crushing her giant pink ball. This is the new rotund normal, you’d better embrace it, fucknozzle. I don’t care if your hands can’t reach past her second belly fold.
– The dispensing with any pretense that Obamacare is about anything other than a money spigot that no one (worth caring about) has to pay for.
– The ankle tattoos. Is that a “Z”? Did Zorro rapier her snatch and leave his calling card?
– Gotta love the wine and exercise juxtaposition. Yeah, that’s how you want to work out… drunk.
– Success in life is measured by how many good bottles of wine you can score.
– The whole scene is meant to evoke the livin’ LARGE lifestyle of the modern SWPL brunch-scarfing, egg-dying, government-idolizing liberal tart. I think the fat one is shitting Shonda Rhimes.
– Dat manjaw on the left one. In case you forgot that testosterone-charged women are now running the show… into the ground.
– Ali and Caitlin are not sweatin’ it, because women were not put on this earth to worry about how they’ll pay for all their nice shit. Who are you, some misogynist who wants to stop giving women freebies? *squaawk* War on women!

You want to rebuke the ruling class for assuming the average American woman is an idiot, but then they have a point. This is our culture now, and the lords of lies are merely speaking the primitive language of their degraded subjects.

Another one:

Why do ads that, by any reasonable suspicion, seem primarily aimed at the problems of minorities, feature white people? CYA? Revised expectations? Or is it that our new healthcare overlords know they need white people on board, because who else is gonna fund this free lunch extravaganza? We’re living in a banksters paradise, and you’re the sucker.

“OMG, he’s hot!”

OMG, the country is going bankrupt.

“Let’s hope he’s as easy to get as this birth control.”

Because men are hard to entice with sexual favors. :roll:

“My health insurance covers the pill, which means all I have to worry about is getting him between the covers.”

Slut pride. Daddy’s little girl is all growed up. The disclaimer is a riot. What’s this “common sense” they speak of? Not sleeping with every man who will dump a quickly forgotten fuck in her? Talk about a fine print buzzkill.

“Susie & Nate, Hot to Trot”

Girl: He doesn’t have to stick it in my pooper anymore! *thumbs up*
Guy: You mean I can cum in this sloot and get my Aunt Gertrude and that fat beta in accounting to pay for the privilege? *smirk*

CH has drawn up amended — and more bracingly honest — editions of these CO Obamacare “hosurance” ads.

Hold on… I’m getting an image in my head… a picture is forming… a picture of America in 2013. Ah, here it is:

Put her down.

Read Full Post »

One of the biggest problems of our phallocentric culture is the constant pampering to the superficial behavior of men. The dating arena is a prime example of this. I won’t ridicule mainstream dating advice. That the “golddigger” strategy is dubious at best should be common knowledge by now. Instead, I want to attack a particular corner of the Internet that proclaims that they have the solution to the dating problem: the so-called “women’s issues” community. A lot of the criticism applies to the “glamourmagosphere” as well, though.

What struck me always as absurd was that those alleged relationship madams didn’t teach women to “woman up”. No, not in the “be a real woman and get a high-paying career so you can marry a grateful niceguy after you’ve had your fun”, but for real. They just don’t tell you to stand up for yourself. No, instead you are supposed to become an expert on cosmetology, fashion, exercise science, gossip, looking your best, behaving in a sweet feminine manner, and all kinds of frivolous nonsense. This alone should make any reasonably smart woman very skeptical. Even if this stuff worked — wouldn’t you want to have an at least halfway intelligent man instead, since as we know intelligence and primal biological sexual preferences are mutually exclusive?

That’s not all, because mainstream relationship madams also tell you how you should react to his ambiguous behavior. They call it “charming” when he’s acting flirty towards you, and tell you to “just keep making him chase you, girl!” Do you know what any girl with an inkling of self-respect would do? If he’s charming, you just move on, but if he’s really sexy and dangerous, you can just tell him to go fuck himself. Amazingly, some men are so damned sexy that they’ll get turned off by that and next you.

The men you’re interacting with are supposed to be adults, but if he behaves like a high value man with options, you have the choice of either confronting him or trying to change his behavior. Have fun with that! What also works is to not bother with him and looking for a more mature man instead. By “mature” I don’t mean some boring man with no game, but a man with a modicum of mental maturity who has a bug up his ass about the idea of having to impress the opposite sex. Mental maturity depends on a cultivated resentment that there exist two sexes with differing reproductive goals and psychologies that must be accommodated if one is to make it through life as something more than a loveless loser. There are plenty of shockingly immature normal people who don’t carry chips on their shoulders — men and women — around.

Let me just dwell on this topic a bit longer. Probably any girl who ever agreed to go out on a date with a man, or went along with it when he wanted to “hang out” will have experienced that some men just won’t commit. No, they don’t toss you out of bed. Instead, they just don’t show up three months later. A smart way of dealing with this problem is to make the man wait a little for sex so that you can tell if he’s the type just looking for a fun time or if he’s really into you and wants a deeper relationship.

It is not the case that men are unaware that they are cagey about commitment. I guess the “matriarchy” keeps them down so that they can’t pick out a ring and marry you, or just say “I don’t want a relationship” in the first place. What do those ridiculous dating madams aka your grandmas tell you, though? They talk about “getting Mr. Right”. You’re supposed to keep showing cleavage and dressing sexily and putting on make-up and watching your figure and flattering him to “build attraction”, and if he still won’t commit, you’re supposed to play hard to get and withdraw sex and generally act as if time is short and you need real commitment before your peak fertility window of desirability closes.

I mean, whom are those “relationship artists” kidding? Even if you managed to eventually win such a man over, what kinds of precedents did you set? If anything, the man now knows that you like him for more than sex (horrors!), and that you’ll work hard to pin him down in a long-term relationship. He knows that you’re a completely normal woman who happily gives up self-righteous celibacy for the remote chance to get some love. As if a man’s love was the solution to anything (*snort*)! Instead of calling him out on his foot-dragging, you invite him to remain indecisive, and you even make excuses for his normal male behavior, all for love!!! This is nothing but absurd. Congratulations, you’ve turned yourself into what they call a “lovestruck girl.” Yes, this — “relationship game”, they call it — is the supposed alternative to mainstream dating advice. It’s laughable.

“Relationship management” and “beautification” are just more elaborate forms of penis worship and pedestalization. Women will never earn their self-respect until they are ready to “go their own way”.

Many thanks to Paul Elam for publishing this post at his blog A Voice For Women.

Read Full Post »

It’s that time of year. Secularized America’s new number one holiday demands your careful consideration. As a man, you have one job every Halloween: dress in a costume that tells the world an alpha male is hiding underneath.

Rule #1: Don’t do “couples costumes”. Actually, that’s the only rule. Not only are couples costumes betatizing, they’re dorkifying. If you insist on doing a couples costume, make sure it’s a) something totally demeaning to polite company:

or b) something super sexy that leaves you with a semi all night:

In the above couples costume scenario, you’d be the guy holding the scissors to a piece of her tape. “hold this thread as i walk away… as i walk awaaay!…”

If the very limited selection of acceptable couples costumes isn’t your thing, you can go the conventional alpha male costume route:

Or, for you renegade alphas who love to both follow orders and break rules:

But the best alpha male costume is one I saw many years ago, if by “alpha male costume” we mean a costume that attracts battalions of beautiful babies. That is, after all, what alpha male is supposed to signify, right? A man of irresistible allure to women. Or, in this specific case, a costume that imbues a man with irresistible allure. Drumroll please….

CONTRAST IS KING!

Yeah, that’s it above. The most alpha male costume I ever saw, judging by the number of giggling women gathered round to admire and caress him, was a muscular guy wearing nothing but an over-sized diaper and baby bonnet, holding a rattle.

Talk about baby balls.

WARNING: Do NOT try this if you’re a soft, pasty, herbaceous manboob. It only works if there’s a contrast between the baby costume and your natural virile masculinity. This means if you look like John Scalzi, wearing a diaper will freak people out who might mistake you for some weird sexual pervert who strayed from his masturbatorium. Yes, even on Halloween.

Since we’re on the subject of diapers, it would be a tremendous alpha male coup if you could manage to dress up as the Engineer from Prometheus.

CH: “No body suit required.” :wink:

Read Full Post »

Sperglord, or Master Meta-Troll, Bryan “the moral and utilitarian thing to do is open the border to my rectum to any undersexed homosexuals so that Gross Domestic Penis is increased” Caplan is hosting an Open Borders Logo Contest. Naturally, the site was infiltrated with mischievous pranksters (Leroy Krune!). My favorite so far:

I think the funniest thing about the pranksters is how oblivious Team Autist appeared to be to their pet project getting tooled so blatantly. One of the Team Autist members, Rojas, “Liked” Krune’s obvious trolls multiple times.

If I were to design an Open Borders Logo, it would pack a little more visceral punch.

UPDATE

Here’s the Immigration Restrictionist Logo:

Read Full Post »

The modest Lion of the Blogosphere tirelessly works to alert the citizenry to the threat of death by cow, but there is another evil that lurks in our nation’s parks and quiet retreats: death by tree.

This is not the first time a rogue tree has snuffed out a life. Four years ago, a woman was killed and a man put into a coma by falling tree limbs. Three years ago, a man walking through Central Park minding his own business was taken out by a psychopathic tree limb. Witnesses heard someone yelling “This is for Treevon”, which news outlets were slow to divulge.

The number of casualties and severity of the crimes tell the story: Trees are more dangerous than cows.

My suggestion is to remove your headphones when walking through areas known to be populated by aggressive, killer trees with low future time orientation. You need to be aware of your surroundings so that you can move out of the way when you hear the crack of a giant limb about to hurtle to the ground. Another suggestion is to reduce immigration of less competent people.

Delligatti and other people who live nearby told Fox 5 they were not surprised by the falling tree. They say many of the trees in Kissena Park appear to be in bad condition.

“They need another program where competent people, tree people, [sic] to come around and assess which trees should be taken down, because it’s a mess,” said Delligatti.

The demographic future of America is on track to be comprised of many more incompetent people than we have now, so expect these sorts of “mishaps” to occur more regularly. It’s time to plan your daily life around the reality that there is a big, intrusive government which claims it will take care of you but actually does a bad job of taking care of you.

Read Full Post »

I’m a stay-at-home dad to twin 4-year-old girls who are already smarter than me, and my wife is a brilliant doctor who kicks ass and saves lives every day.

From an article by a nominal man who feebly spurts many words onto Slate’s page describing how much his penis scares him.

Congratulations, Mr. Andy Takes-It-In-The-Hinds, your utterance is event horizon manboobery.

The manboobs have been emerging from their micropeen dens in force lately, poking their cock thimbles into the daylight for a breath of fresh air. There is no depth of self-degradation which they will not entertain to relieve themselves of the burden of being born male.

It’s enough nauseating masochism and putrid suck-uppery to make one wonder if the whole thing, written on the Slate halls and the Salon walls, is one giant schtick. Performance parody art that has somehow gelled organically to coax the mischievous participation of male simulacra from across the media landscape.

If only it were so. But no, the likelihood is that these loathsome creatures are sincere. Blame it on estrogen in the water, the lack of a cleansing apocalypse, or feminist shrikes lashing fat nerds with their six inch clits, the fact is that the sack of America is shrinking and her bitch tits are filling up with ululating manboobs.

Some readers may wonder, if this guy is such a grotesquerie in spirit and mind, how did he manage to get a wife? Well, quality matters. If you’re fishing around the dregs of womanhood, it’s not hard to wife up. The orcas and pasty frumps and stubbly manjaws will practically throw themselves at you. Another thing to keep in mind is that just because a guy can claim married status doesn’t necessarily mean he’s enjoying the marital fruits, if’n ya know what I mean.

UPDATE

A charitable reader suggests that this manboob is actually engaged in a form of psychological passive-aggressive warfare with an intended audience of one: His breadwinner wife. He wants his ballbusting, careerist Asian wife to know he has options, or at least that he has been thinking about having options, and the manbooby way to deliver this message is by puling about how ashamed he is of his lustful thoughts for all the hotties he sees every day. Of course, he wouldn’t have to put on this circus if he wasn’t a stay-at-home castrati married to a Tiger doctor. But he is, and so he finds himself using a warped variant of Dread Game to keep his wife interested.

Read Full Post »

Behold your modern White man of the West. Honored descendant of great warriors:

…brilliant thinkers:

… and sturdy yeomen:

Fatter, wimpier, more pathetic. Bequeathed a noble heritage that perhaps surpasses every other culture’s heritage come before or since, the modern Western White man disgraces his forebears in all manner, by every measure. His disgrace and capitulation to pampered weakness is so complete, the great men of his lineage would scarcely recognize him as human, let alone as a child of their righteous loins.

He submits to the raping of his countries’ largesse by invading foreigners and citizen subversives. He excuses the actions of those who would sooner wipe him from the face of the earth, and whips himself into a fervid masochistic spectacle for imagined sins purged on the altar of social standing. He spits on his brothers for a pittance and he salts the soil from which his dwindling posterity must grow. He amuses himself with parlor games and slick sophistry, while he hypocritically runs from the very heart of his words to outpost gardens that shelter his sermonizing from scrutiny. He has let his women run wild, appeasing their last whim, and in return has been rewarded with their total disrespect for his pleasure, for his dignity, for his presumption. He indulges in stupefying drugs of the belly and the mind, concentrated by his soft-pedal puppeteers for maximum potency, and loses himself in petty pop culture distractions so perfectly crafted to sedate any spark of fighting spirit or any glimmer of awareness at his decrepit prospects. He licks the boots of his self-assumed betters and endures their debt-propped credentialist servitude in hopes of a place at the shrinking table, or he denies betterment and retreats to a spiteful underculture of crass gluttony and exhilarating dysfunction. He dutifully mouths ruling class slogans as he bristles incoherently within a maze of diverse strangeness and under the gaze of cold surveillance. He wars with his masculine essence, surrendering to caricature or to simulated castration.

He farms gold, he uploads, he downloads, he pants loads, he MGTOWs, he cube codes, he Insta-chodes, he’s friendzoned, he faps alone, he dates low, he marries old, he’s sorta ‘mo (he’s proud to show), he cornholes, he corn sows, he’s a cuddle pro, he tucks a micro, he’s equality yo, he’s a harmless bro, he fucks slow (first licks her hole), no means no (as he well knows), he’s wow just wow (brash scares him so), he’s status quo, he’s a quota goat, his girlfriend’s gross (he won’t tell her though), he nuzzles cows, he scrapes and bows, he’s a cog-to-go, he luvs a ho, his titties grow, he’s GIRL YOU GO!, his ex-wife’s boyfriend spends his dough, his girlfriend fucked an asshole…

…he knows no home to call his own.

The modern Western White man is one fat fold away from watching forlornly as his scepter and orbs of manly pride dip below a tragic horizon, forever out of sight.

But, hey, those smartphones are nifty, right? You can use them to call for help when another fat feminist or ingrate racial huckster shits in your face for fun and profit.

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 2,028 other followers

%d bloggers like this: