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More On “The Look”

The ((( Rebbe ))) explains,

The easiest way to get “The Look” is to find close family members who have it (and those who don’t). Your family members will be very close to you genetically, so study how women react to them. Even quiz women on their impressions: Ape the good traits and carefully avoid the bad ones.
If your father is an Alpha, this is a sincere blessing. Copy your father down to the slightest detail while noting his flaws (yes, every Alpha has flaws). Clothes, hair, style, demeanor, personality, taste, car, home decorating, humor, etc. If it works for him, it will prolly work for you. Then prune his bad habits or combine those of other family Alphas, and, of course your own identity, which likely doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Yet, many people let jealousy get the better of them and tragically fail to learn from their betters.

Having a few alpha naturals as friends is invaluable to your personal growth as supreme poonslayer, esq. This goes double if those naturals are family members. Closely observing a natural in the wilds of the sexual market, learning his ways, appropriating his winning traits to conform to your style and personality…. all these choices are superior to the choice of feeling envy toward the natural.

cheating-man-bustedThere comes a time in a man’s life (or a few hundred times) when the sum total of his gathered experiences with women and the wisdom he gained from them is called upon to help him out of a pinch. The pinch I refer to is when a woman accuses you of sneaking around on the side. There are only three things that drain the blood faster from a man’s face than the thought of erectile dysfunction:

  1. When your wife serves you divorce papers.
  2. When you catch your woman fooling around with another man.
  3. When your woman busts you for cheating.

The first two haven’t happened to me, but the last one has… multiple times. And from those trials by ovarian fire I have learned a few valuable lessons. I’m here to tell you what to do — or, more precisely, what *not* to do — when your girl jabs the infidelity finger of accusation in your face.

I’ll illustrate how NOT to handle a suspicious girlfriend with a fairly recent example from my own life (about two years ago). I was three months into a torrid fling with a pretty cable TV station producer whose sexual appetite rivaled the libidos of the horniest girls in the world — the Russians. She left streaks of black fingernail polish on my shower tiles, which I did not clean off for months as a tribute to her voracious vagina.

As with most sexual dynamos, she was a Class A attention whore. There are pics of her scattered all over the social media pooniverse of her (literally) dancing on bars and hipster supplicants licking her stockinged calves. She is now a grad student, still childless. One Friday evening, we were having ice cream and she asked me to join her later at a fashion show her friends were putting on. I said maybe and offered a go-to excuse about a friend coming to town, because little did TV producer girl know I hadn’t broken up with the serious girlfriend I had been dating for a year (the serious gf didn’t know about the fling) and I had made tentative plans to see her that night. The option to blow off my loving girlfriend was not available, as her and I were at a critical juncture where any more asshole behavior on my part (such as not seeing her on a Friday night) would’ve caused her to dump me to avoid further pain. I wished not for that gravy train to end.

Later that night, as I post-coitally lounged in my girlfriend’s bed, the TV producer texted me asking if I was coming to meet her. I didn’t respond. I wanted to see her, but the logistics were horrible. (Try escaping an intimacy-shrouded bed to see another woman without rousing suspicions. Not that easy while the oxytocin is flowing freely.) I was stuck.

The sexpot fling texted me the next day asking to meet her at a local bar later that night. Hoping for another brain frying bang, I happily met up with her. The curse of Admiral Akhbar was upon me. It was a trap. As soon as I sat down on the stool beside her, the conversation assumed an ominous tone:

HER: So why didn’t you come join me last night?

ME: Oh, I had some things come up. A buddy is leaving town and I wanted to see him before he left.

HER: What’s his name?

ME: [I hesitated for that critical split second when a girl can figure something is up] Um… Bobby.

HER: Where did you meet him?

ME: [X] street.

HER: I thought you told me your friend was coming to town?

ME: Um, oh yeah, well he was coming, but then leaving, so I wanted to catch up with him.

HER: [long pause, staring intensely into my eyes] Your story’s not consistent. What girl were you with last night?

Why did she suddenly sound like a goddamn lawyercunt?

ME: What?

HER: Why don’t you tell me who you were really with last night.

As suddenly as a tropical squall, her face hardened into a sheet of ice. The love had vanished. For some inexplicable reason, I decided a mid-course change in my story was acceptable. (It never is. Stick to your lie like it’s the 11th Commandment.)

ME: Look, I don’t like talking about this shit in my life, but my ex-girlfriend is going through a tough time and she needed me. [I was hoping to gain points for being compassionate. What a fool I was.] If I didn’t go see her, she might’ve freaked out.

HER: I don’t date cheaters. Or liars. I’m leaving town soon. It was nice knowing you.

Although I tried to smooth the waters, I did not get a bon voyage bang.

Some of you will be able to figure out where I went wrong. Pretty much everywhere. The above vignette is a textbook example of how to bungle the handling of a girl accusing you of cheating. I had violated my own rules for dealing with women.

  • I prevaricated, weakly.
  • I attempted a salvage operation.
  • I played right into her frame.
  • I confessed.

These four bullet points are everything you need to know about what NOT to do when accused by a girlfriend/wife/fling of spreading your man manna. You will want to do the exact opposite of what I did. Namely:

  • Don’t prevaricate.
  • Don’t backpedal or appease.
  • Reframe.
  • Deny deny deny!

Let’s illustrate how to properly handle the above scenario by changing the words I say.

HER: So why didn’t you come join me last night?

ME: I had some personal issues to take care or.

HER: What issues?

ME: It’s personal and nothing to do with you.

HER: Did you meet a girl?

ME: Would you like my bank account number while you’re at it, Inspector Clouseau?

HER: If you’re fucking around with someone else I want to know.

ME: No.

HER: Why don’t you tell me who you were really with last night.

ME: Heidi Klum and Scarlett Johansson. We fucked like rabbits. I had to kick them out. Clingy bitches.

HER: I don’t date cheaters. Or liars.

ME: I don’t date distrustful girls.

Now there’s no way to know if this would’ve resulted in the bang bus rolling on, but I believe the readers will agree that the odds of retaining the sexpot’s services would have been much higher had I handled it as in the second imagined scenario.

So, to recap:

When accused of cheating:

  1. Pause before answering.
  2. Speak directly. Don’t hem and haw.
  3. Look her in the eyes. Remember, every moment with a girl is a staring contest which you must win.
  4. Don’t appease. Appeasement is the great pussy desiccator.
  5. Don’t fall into her frame. Reframing is king!
  6. And, finally, deny like the sociopath you are. No matter how damning the evidence (she could walk in on you with your cock up to the hilt in strange pussy) if you keep a straight face and firmly deny everything she will rationalize a way to believe you. Yes, even the smart childless ones with multiple grad school degrees.

If you’re gonna play the man’s game, you had best know how to rig the rules in your favor.

Gangrenous Elite

The rot is spreading quickly through Western elites. Courtesy of reader M.M., a photo of four German ruling class members of various uselessly decadent administrative posts.

Feast your eyes on our* dysmorphic and dystopic misery:*

Elke Ferner, parliamentary secretary for the federal family ministry (SPD), Justice Minister Heiko Maas (SPD), Minister of Work and Social Issues Andrea Nahles (SPD) and Environment Minister Barbara Hendricks (SPD) arrive for the weekly German federal Cabinet meeting on February 17, 2016 in Berlin, Germany. High on the meeting’s agenda was discussion of the German military’s presence abroad.**

also cute:
German Chancellor Angela Merkel (CDU) and Minister of the Chancellery Peter Altmaier (CDU)

* kraut speaking
** from the gettyimages.com description page

dysmorphia

A smug fatty, a gay, and two lesbians. How far are we from a Social Justice Department? Soon, there’ll be “ministers” explicitly tasked with the project of reducing the number of Whites in their homelands. And no one but a few ZFG rabble-rousers will blink an eye.

PS Physiognomy Is Real.

A DHV, for the new recruits, means Demonstration of Higher Value. It’s shorthand for the observable fact that women are romantically intrigued by men who occupy higher social or lifestyle status than they do.

On that intro, reader ReedAndLEWIS writes,

Been using this line in person and online to great results after we have some rapport and she says something that could be considered as a joke

“ha let me get your number now before i lose interest”

The best courtship teasing has sharp edges. You want to walk right up to that line of obnoxious jerkboy entitlement, and sometimes cross it. Chicks dig the ZFG man.

I really like this line because it accomplishes two bedroom-redirecting goals: it’s got just the right amount of asshole-y self-regard and immunity to reflexive appeasement, and it implies a surfeit of snapper choice. Girls will wonder, “Who does he think he is that he could possibly lose interest in ME?!” Then their hamsters will squeak, “Maybe he’s used to having a full dance card”, and that will be the pussy power surge that sends them to bed feverishly dreaming about you.

Flip the seduction script. Most men are chasers of women. You are chased by women. And women love it.

Trump’s Wives

Commenter Yup wants us to notice something very telling about Trump’s wives.

Trump’s had 3 wives.

1st wife: 14 years

2nd wife: 4 years

3rd wife: 11 years and counting.

Guess which wife was American.

😂 I’ll take “4 years” for $5.5 billion, Alex.

I don’t know if 16th Century poet Michael Drayton can be considered a great man, but he was esteemed by literary critics at the time. Here’s an excerpt from his long-form poem “The Moon-Calf”, (a moon-calf is an abortive fetus of a cow, sometimes applied to human fetuses). Colloquially, it had come to mean during its time in common usage any grotesque thing. Drayton hasn’t a kind word for androgynes, which he thinks “pollute the earth”.

Quoth one, ” ‘Tis monstrous, and for nothing fit;
And, for a monster, quick, let’s bury it.”
“Nay,” quoth another, “rather make provision,
If possibly, to part it by incision,
For were it parted, for aught I can see,
Both man and woman it may seem to be.”
“Nay,” quoth a third. “that must be done with
And, were it done, our labor is but lost: [cost;
For when w’ have wrought the utmost that we can,
He’s too much woman, and she’s too much man:
Therefore, as ’tis a most prodigious birth,
Let it not live here to pollute the earth.”

The great men knew that masculine women and feminine men are abominations against nature. They would weep to see their descendants glorifying what once they thought a blight upon the earth.

Piers Morgan (he’s had a “come to shitlord” moment) writes about Trump’s sway over the ladies. Read this, and you’ll wonder yourself if Trump was a founding proprietor of Le Chateau.

‘They say every powerful man is good in bed,’ I once asked Donald Trump. ‘That true?’

He smirked. ‘I think there is a certain truth to that, yes. Put it this way, I’ve never had any complaints. A lot of it is down to The Look. It doesn’t mean you have to look like Cary Grant, it means you have to have a certain way about you, a stature. I see successful guys who just don’t have The Look and they are never going to go out with great women.

‘The Look is very important. I don’t really like to talk about it because it sounds very conceited… but it matters.’

Count the number of statements Trump made which affirm core CH principles governing male-female relations.

  • Powerful men are generally good in bed. Why is male power and sexpertise correlated? Power imbues a man with self-confidence that opens bedroom possibilities to him, enticing him to be more demanding of the women he sweetly fucks, which in turn makes those women perceive him as more sexually skilled. Similarly, women will have stronger orgasms with a powerful man, regardless of the man’s objective sexual prowess, which alters their perception of the man’s skill.
  • “A lot of it is down to The Look.” Trump understands that facial expression and body language can communicate charismatic winner… or dull loser. Handsomeness is beneficial, but not required. A man who projects confidence with his posture, his piercing gaze, his unflappable ZFG demeanor, and his snapper-sundering smirk is more alluring to women than the prettyboy with the vacant stare.
  • “I see successful guys who just don’t have The Look and they are never going to go out with great women.” Trump, like CH, knows that money and business success are no guarantee of pussy abundance. Wealthy Silicon Valley nerdos lacking in any notable charm, like fat waifu-settling Mark Cuckersperg, are proof that wealth cannot compensate for a shit personality. Women are turned off by dull betas, even if a billion dollar portfolio is added to the equation. Sure, not a few golddiggers will fake their love to mooch the betabux moolah, but that is paid-for allure. Transaction “love” is no substitute for sincere validation love.

There is no doubt in my mind that Trump enjoys, and has enjoyed, the validation love of many beautiful women in his life. Strong evidence for my assertion comes from Trump’s ex-wives, who speak better of him than most men’s current wives speak of them.

ps article via minor Twatter celeb @DJTWMAR.

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