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Archive for 2009

Which man is smarter today? Tiger Woods, who got married? Or George Clooney, single and never without a happy smile on his face?

If Tiger had read my blog and taken my eminently sensible advice he would not be facing the dire prospect of a nine digit cut in pay for doing EXACTLY what his wife, Elin Nordegren, did when she married one of the most desirable bachelors in the world — namely, fulfilling the alpha directive. As alpha females should be free to pursue and coax commitment from the highest quality men, so too should alpha males be free to pursue and bang numerous hot women. It would only be fair.

Beta males at least have an excuse for getting married. They might not find another woman. Alpha males have no excuse.

As Nike might say to Tiger: “Just don’t do it.”

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When historians ponder the fall of the Roman Empire, they point to the multicultural Germanicization of the legions and the outsourcing of military affairs to barbarian mercenaries. When they reflect on the causes of Mayan collapse, deforestation is fingered as the culprit. When future revolutionary historians on the fringes of polite society offer reasons for the implosion of the American Empire (coming *very* soon to a booming multiplex theater near you), they will hold up this photo. And heads will nod in unison. Mutterings will be heard: “We saw it coming.”

What’s wrong with this picture? Let us count the ways. I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume the hairdresser is swisherrific. I mean, just look at that belt buckle. Would we be able to win WWII if we had to fight it over again with the current crop of American men? Or would we chastise the fearful warmongering Americans for antagonizing the millions of moderate Nazis? Phony umbrage and secular piousness are the cheap and easy virtues of a soulsucked people. So easy, you can do it too! I’ll get you started. “Xenophobe!” Congrats, you’re now better than Jesus.

The assistant has a foreign name. East European. She has that cute, scrunchy apple face so sexually arousing in the Slavic women, but unfortunately her Old World charms will be lost in a matter of weeks, due to exposure to the froo-frooiest of American culture from working in a hair salon that caters to a dying breed. (And I’m not referring to the dog.) I do not envy her boyfriend who will wake up one morning to the realization that his beloved has become fully Americanized. Home cooked dinners and surprise blowjobs will be nothing but a sweet memory.

When a free nation is invaded by a foreign force wthout lifting a single weapon to defend itself, when it puts itself in hock to a Communist overlord, when it has 152 varieties of color protecting conditioner on its store shelves, the doomsday clock has moved a minute closer to the midnight hour.

Then there’s the woman getting the queen bee treatment. Yenta! It’s not just an electric car. Her smile may be a mile wide, but her eyes betray infinite sadness. By the way she is smothering her dog with affection I safely assume she is childless.

And of course, the dog, a term I use loosely to describe the shitting Roomba sitting on her lap. Is that a flower tucked in its head fur? No wonder the dog’s face says “Shoot me please.” Normal dogs are not coddled and pampered like substitute children. A normal dog’s face says “Bacon? Bacooooon!!”

Examine this picture. You should feel a foreboding deep in your gut. You won’t know why exactly, but it’s there. Best not think too long about it, there’s another mp3 to download.

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It’s been said that when Tiger Woods is dominating on the fairway his opponents lose their composure and begin piling up the bogies. An analogy could be made to relationships. The greater the dating market value disparity between two people the more likely the partner with less power will lose composure at the slightest threat of loss. Another way of saying this: The partner with less hand is more emotionally invested in the relationship.

Tiger Woods may be a goofy looking guy but have no doubt — millions of hot women the world over would love to bang him. This means whichever woman lucks out in the marital lotto with Tiger is automatically the partner with zero emotional hand. (Financial hand is another matter. Thanks to insane anti-male divorce laws a world-beating alpha male like Tiger Woods can be brought to his knees by a single throwaway lantern-jawed blonde like Elin Nordegren.) Nordegren has little hand being married to Tiger and her hindbrain knows this, which is why she went psycho on him when she presumably suspected him of cheating and chased him down with the long iron.

The Tiger Woods Effect works in either direction. Look back on your own dating career. With which women did you behave in the most wretchedly beta manner? The hot ones, right? It’s usually the women who are relatively significantly higher in dating market value who will cause a man to forget everything he’s learned about women and throw alpha to the wind as he begs pleads and cajoles her for more love. Let’s say you are a 6 and your girlfriend is a 9. How long do you think it’s going to be before you’re writing her sappy poems and buying her flowers? Two dates?

Similarly, if you’re a girl who’s dating Tiger Woods and you catch him throwing a flirty glance at a waitress, you might do something crazy like this. (Thanks to Justin for the pointer. My readers always come through with great links.)

I believe it’s a good idea for men to get practice dominating a woman so fully she loses all dignity around him. Date at least one woman who is lower than you in dating market value and watch with wonder how little effort you have to put into the relationship. This will instill you with the right attitudes to have with the hotter women you truly wish to date — namely, aloofness, carelessness and selfishness.

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“Hi, I’m an interpretive guide for the Truitt exhibit. What do you think of it so far?”

I looked over and saw a short, cute girl with a seeing eye dog in tow. At least, I figured it was a seeing eye dog because one, it had the telltale handlebar thing strapped to it and two, it was a dog in a museum, where pets aren’t normally allowed.

I scanned the nearly blank white canvas on the wall before answering her. “I’m struggling with it. If I had to turn this in as an assignment for art class I’d probably get an F.”

I was at the Anne Truitt exhibit, in search of beauty amongst blocks and drawings of lines. For those who aren’t familiar, here is a representative sample of her work:

Are you scratching your head? Keep scratching plebe. You wouldn’t recognize art if it bit you on the ass.

The short cute girl eagerly continued our conversation. She was quite earnest. I was charmed.

“Truitt was a minimalist who wanted the viewer to experience her work as an emotional reaction, instead of a visual object. (something something something)… it’s conceptual art that draws out memories in the viewer… (something something something)… and the colors are meant to represent just the color…”

As she spoke, her eyes looked directly at mine, as if she could actually see me. Her gaze was intense. It made me a little uncomfortable and I looked to the dog for reassurance. I began to wonder if she was really blind, or if she picked the dog up from the shelter and liked the handlebar thing, so she never removed it. In the middle of her speech, she reached down without looking and patted the ground with her hand, feeling for the dog’s leash which had moved a foot away from her. Yep, she was blind. I breathed a sigh of relief and thought about picking my nose, but checked myself. Some blind people have rudimentary vision. She might be able to see my blurry finger drilling into my blurry face.

She was such an engaging converationalist that I found myself fully committed to chatting with her. It didn’t hurt that she was cute with a perfect ass. If there was female game, she had it. As we volleyed back and forth on the artistic impact of Truitt’s bare bones oeuvre, I felt an old, familiar urge well up inside me. I was gaming this chick. Teasing, banter, light touch on her elbow.  The raw energy of a possible seduction electrified the air around us. My crotch grew three sizes that day!

None of my teasing involved her blindness. It never came up. It’s funny how a rollicking conversation can overlook the most obvious questions, like “What is a blind girl doing in a museum giving tour guides of a visual artist’s exhibit?” Then I noticed something else; this girl was getting attracted to me through nothing but my words. She moved in closer, she smiled wider. But, she couldn’t see me. She couldn’t see my well-timed cocky grin, or my alpha body language. I could have been a potbellied bald leprosy victim rubbing my hands together nervously for all she knew.

That’s when it hit me. How, after all these years, could I have ignored the potential of blind girl game? There are so many fewer variables to worry about. No need for style, grooming, or calculated backturns. You don’t even have to smile. All you need is the seductive allure of your words. If you are a man with powerful verbal game, your talents will be best appreciated by a blind girl. In fact, you could easily score a 9 or 10 blind chick if your game is only good enough to score 20/20 vision 7s. Removing a woman’s visual judgement bumps your skill level up two full points.

Downside: When slipping her the midnight hummer, make sure to tell her it’s not a hot dog.

I bet VK has a lot of great blind girl jokes up his sleeve.

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Beta backsliding is a fact of life. Even the hardest alphas will occasionally show flashes of humanity that rev their women’s shit testing engines. Most of these moments are brief and dismissible, but woe to the man who can’t recognize his embetafying ineptitude; he will slowly lose dominant control of his relationships until one day he’s so scared of his woman that he believes her when she says she’ll leave him if he goes through with a paternity test.

When you become experienced with women your alert system for beta backsliding is so honed that you can tell within seconds of your woman pulling away from you which of your behaviors was the cause. When your awareness of the sexual matrix is fully advanced, you will even be able to tell with frightening accuracy how your woman will react to your behavior *before she has reacted*. Like aural bullets of shit tests flying at you from all directions, your Neo Game will slow time and warp space, stopping her shit tests in front of you, which you then send right back at her with double the force. A master of female psychology (MFP) is indistinguishable from a clairvoyant, predicting women’s actions before they have happened based on nothing more than a well-developed understanding of a woman’s animal nature.

The day will come when you get so good at this that you will throw beta chum in the water just to amuse yourself with her predictable response, in much the same way women amuse themselves by wrapping lesser men around their fingers with ostentatious displays of cleavage or flirty signals of sexual interest.

Which brings us to our question: What does a man do when he has lost the upper hand and his relationship is on the fast track to fail if he doesn’t take steps to arrest it? First, he must assess what led him to his predicament. Did he hug her too tightly in public? Did he make kissy face with her in front of other men? Did he nestle his head in her lap? Did he say “sorry”? Did he cry after sex? Did he do all of these things plus tell her she’s beautiful? If so, then he shouldn’t be surprised if she complains about his PDA, or moans about spending too much time together.

When a woman pulls back, a typical man’s instinct will be to try and fix his flagging relationship. Men do; that’s how we’re designed. Unfortunately, more often than not this male instinct to action will drive the nails into the coffin of his dying relationship. Most men overreact, either in the beta direction or the alpha direction. A beta will coo and pout and swarm with rays of undying love until his woman is repulsed and leaves him with her heart light and unburdened. An alpha will control and demean and lash out like an angry tyrant until his woman falls into the arms of a more charming man.

I have a better way. My advice is so simple that any man — from alpha to omega — can follow it with success. It’s this:

The easiest way to revive a flagging relationship is to cut off all contact.

That’s it. No routines to memorize, no alpha body language to learn, no reframing required; just one simple solution: Cut off all contact. No phone calls, no texts, no emails, no midnight drive-bys at her apartment. Nothing until she reinitiates contact with you.

And I guarantee that nine out of ten times she *will* reinitiate contact. Women cannot resist chasing a man who has made himself unavailable. The disappearing act is every man’s ace in the hole; women are nearly powerless to it. They have no defense. All it requires of the man is willpower. If you find it hard to be away from your woman’s pussy for more than a day, then you will have to find substitutes while in the No Contact Zone. A man on top of his game will have other women to service him. Lesser men will need to turn to porn or hookers. Or eat a lot of tofu and lick plastic bottles to lower his testosterone.

Depending on length of relationship and severity of the man’s beta offense, the No Contact Zone can last anywhere from a couple of days to a month. The beauty of this solution to revive a dying relationship is that even those rare times when she does not reinitiate contact you will have saved yourself time and energy dating a woman who was likely to dump you soon anyhow. And on the flimsiest pretext, like getting a smile from a high status bike messenger.

Note that I did not say this is the *best* method for rescuing a relationship on the rocks. I said it was the easiest method with the highest return for the minimal investment. If you’re a busy guy who can’t be bothered to run expert level effortless-seeming game, or if you’re a recovering beta who isn’t yet confident enough in his LTR game to risk a more proactive approach to a dying LTR, then the No Contact Zone is for you.

There’s one other thing you must know. If you don’t do this final step the right way then your No Contact Zone game will be for naught. Assuming she reinitiates contact (and she likely will), expect her to say something like this:

“Hey there! Haven’t heard from you in a while. What have you been up to?”

If your No Contact Zone game hit the mark, you will detect a hint of nervousness in her voice. Congratulations, sir, you have regained hand. BUT… you can lose it all if you in any way ACKNOWLEDGE the No Contact ruse. Like Fight Club, the first rule is to not talk about it. That means you act as if NOTHING IS UNUSUAL about your calculated time away from her.

“Hey, what’s up! Eh you know, the usual stuff, work, life. Did I tell you about my new hobby? Single malt scotch… oh yeeeah.”

This will, naturally, drive her mentally insane. Fitfully for us men, mental insanity in women triggers seismic gina tremors. She will invite herself over for (in her mind) make up sex. Your job is to step aside and let the hamster in her head spin itself to exhaustion as you fornicate to the wee hours.

One more thing. If she presses you on your absence, say by asking “Why haven’t you called me?”, you deny complicity in her frame. In other words, don’t allow yourself to get entrapped by her frame by answering defensively. Either deny her accusation (“You’re very forgetful. I called you a few days ago.”) or reframe the conversation to a focus on her clinginess (“I didn’t know I was supposed to call you every single second of the day. Aw, it’s cute that you think about me so much. Adorable!”)

Played right, No Contact Zone game is absolutely devastating to a woman’s sense of relationship entitlement and her bloated hypergamous ego.

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Spot The Cockblock

Tough… tough… Hmm. I’m not usually challenged like this. After some serious reflection I’m going to go with the girl in the pink dress. Look at her oversized earrings and bright red lipstick. That’s a big clue she doesn’t like being ignored and will make it hard for you to hook up with her prettier friends.

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Cuckolded men. A lot of readers emailed me this New York Beta Times story about the State of Paternity in America today. Before reading, you should grab your Pepto Bismol, because your stomach is going to turn. Get ready to descend into the hell matrix of the unwitting beta male raising another man’s child, where torments beyond your most chilling nightmares await.

The revelation from a DNA test was devastating and prompted him to leave his wife — but he had not renounced their child. He continued to feel that in all the ways that mattered, she was still his daughter, and he faithfully paid her child support. It was only when he learned that his ex-wife was about to marry the man who she said actually was the girl’s biological father that Mike flipped. Supporting another man’s child suddenly became unbearable.Two years after filing the suit that sought to end his paternal rights, Mike is still irate about the fix he’s in. “I pay child support to a biologically intact family,” Mike told me, his voice cracking with incredulity. “A father and mother, married, who live with their own child. And I pay support for that child. How ridiculous is that?”

Ridiculous is one way to put it. Evil is another.

Tanner Pruitt, who owns a small manufacturing business in Texas, paid child support for seven years after divorcing his wife. His daughter never looked like him, but it wasn’t until she was 12 that it began to bother him. He told the girl he wanted to check something in her mouth, quickly swabbed some cheek cells and sent the samples off to a lab. After the DNA test showed they weren’t related, he contacted a lawyer, figuring the lab results would release him from child-support payments and justify reimbursement from the biological father. But the lawyer told Pruitt his only option was to take the matter to court and that doing so might mean giving up his right to see the girl at all. It might also alert her to the truth. Pruitt didn’t want to chance either possibility, so he stayed silent and kept paying.“I spent thousands and thousands of dollars, and it hasn’t cost that biological father a penny, and yeah, I’m angry, but it would have been more harm to her psychologically than it was worth,” says Pruitt, who eventually fought for, and won, full custody.

This is why I support mandatory paternity testing (MPT) at birth. MPT would completely negate the risk of having to choose between loyalty to a child to whom the father has already bonded, and walking away to leave the child to the whore mother to raise. It’s a simple procedure that would intrude on no one’s rights or emotional well-being, similar to how the state requires driver’s tests for people who want the privilege of driving. By making it mandatory, all issues of trust are rendered moot. If it’s discovered the child isn’t his, the father is legally absolved of any further paternal or marital obligations, and is welcome to exit the marriage without having to pay one red cent to the bitch.

Any woman who even utters a peep against MPT has shown her cards. She is a filthy wretched cuntrag who wishes the system to be rigged in her favor — morality, fairness, and justice be damned. (hi anony!)

Some may question whether MPT is good for society, inasmuch as it dysgenically removes the option for women to carry the species forward by duping betas into raising and propagating alpha genes. This concern rests on a key assumption — that cheating women are making the eugenically correct choice. My suspicion, based on what I’ve heard about unfaithful whores, is that they are not. They are, instead, fucking around with assorted badboys.

Mike’s first inkling that something was amiss in his marriage was in 2000, when he was digging through a closet looking for the source of some mice. He didn’t find any nests, but he did come upon a plastic grocery bag of love letters to his wife, Stephanie, from her co-worker Rob. Confronted, Stephanie confessed to a fleeting affair but assured Mike that L., then nearly 3, was his.

If you recorded the answers of one million cheating whores at the moment when their doubting husbands questioned them about the paternity of their kids, only one woman would tell the truth to the man she married “till death do us part”. The other 999,999 women would lie. This is the juggernaut of female depravity you are up against, men. Never forget that.

CARNELL SMITH, an engineer-turned-lobbyist in Georgia, is the leading advocate for men like Mike. In 2001, after Smith’s own paternity struggle, he formed U.S. Citizens Against Paternity Fraud, to help the men he calls “duped dads.” In his most notable success, Smith persuaded Georgia lawmakers to rescind nonbiological fathers’ financial obligations, no matter the child’s age or how close the relationship. Smith then became the first man to disestablish paternity under that law.

Carnell Smith is a goddamned American hero. Step up to the Chateau gates, Carnell, you have more than earned your place at the table among the “King of the Alphas” greats.

With the scientific proof in hand, men like Carnell Smith began fighting back. A few months after Smith split up with his girlfriend in 1988, she announced she was pregnant with his child. Believing her, he signed a paternity acknowledgment for their daughter, Chandria.

Maxim #666: When a woman has incentive to lie, she will choose lying over honesty EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Corollary to Maxim #666: Treat woman like Soviet Russia — Trust but verify.

He obtained joint custody, paid her support and spent virtually every weekend with his little girl. When Chandria was 11, her mother sued to increase support. Smith decided to be tested, and the results excluded him as the father. In a lawsuit, Smith demanded Chandria’s mother pay back the $40,000 he had laid out in what he calls “involuntary servitude” and fraud. The court ruled against Smith, concluding that he had known that his former girlfriend had other partners at the end of their relationship and should have realized he might not be the father. By not exercising his “due diligence” and getting a DNA test early on, the court put the burden on Smith for not unearthing the truth sooner.

Did you get that? The court basically said to Smith “Hey, your fault for believing your girlfriend’s lies. What did you expect? She’s a woman. Women lie! So keep paying, bitchboy.”

If you are an American male, know this: Your women aren’t on your side. Your government isn’t on your side. Your law isn’t on your side. Your culture isn’t on your side. You are expendable. Your use is as cannon fodder for pointless wars, cannon fathers for bastard children, and cannon dollars for whoring sluts.

Would you die for this country that so despises you? Would you care if women who aren’t related to you or fucking you got raped? Would you care if *any* woman got raped? Orwell had it half right — a boot stamping on a beta face and high heels grinding into a beta crotch – forever.

Chandria now attends college in Georgia. She has seen Carnell Smith on the local news and on the Internet and cannot reconcile the man who seems to her so insensitive with the father she knew: attentive, seemingly proud of their relationship and eager to spend time with her. “He was what a father was supposed to be,” she says, “but when things changed, he completely disconnected. That’s just not fair. You’ve been in my life my entire life and for you to just cut that off for money, well, that’s not fair to anybody.”

Carnell Smith, if I ever meet you, beer’s on me. And I don’t buy beers for just anyone.

Chandria, if you think it’s not fair, you have but one person to point your accusing finger at — your whore mother.

For the rest of you rationalizers who think that Chandria’s bitter tears prove that rectifying paternity fraud should take a back seat to the welfare of the child, kindly redirect your effrontery at the perp who deserves it — the cheating woman. If the child suffers, the unfaithful mother should have thought of that before spreading for the thug du jour.

Child-welfare advocates say that making biology the sole determinant of paternity in cases like Smith’s puts the nonbiological father’s interest above the child’s.

You don’t say! And all this time I thought eighteen years of financial and psychological enslavement was in the nonbiological father’s interest.

Besides, society has increasingly recognized that parenthood is not necessarily bound to genetics.

Society is an ass.

“Having been involved in cases like these, I think the answer to ‘Is it my kid?’ is irrationally important to the cuckolded husband,” says Carol McCarthy, an officer of the Pennsylvania chapter of the American Academy of Matrimonial Lawyers. “My own biases are going into this because I’m adopted, so I’m real into ‘your parents are the people who raise you.’ I couldn’t care less who my biological parents are. My parents are the ones who went through all the crap I gave them growing up.”

And people wonder why I have so much hatred in my heart for sophistic bitch lawyers. (hi al!)

Let’s rephrase Mizz Carol McCarthy’s quote for clarity:

“Having been involved in cases like these, I think the answer to ‘Is it my kid?’ is irrationally important to the falsely impregnated wife,” says Carol McCarthy, an officer of the Pennsylvania chapter of the American Academy of Patrimonial Lawyers. “My own biases are going into this because my mother who unknowingly had another woman’s fertilized egg implanted in her womb went through with the pregnancy, so I’m real into ‘your parents are the people who raise you.’ I couldn’t care less who my biological parents are. My parents are the ones who went through all the crap I gave them growing up.”

There, that should uncloud Mizz McCarthy’s mind. PS Please put your head under a rolling bus.

WHY IS IT THAT we imbue genetic relationships with a potency that borders on magic?

It’s funny when smart people ask these kinds of questions as if they don’t already know the answer. It’s as if in the asking they absolve themselves of the guilt they feel for following the same amoral code that is followed by the proles and untouchables to whom they feel superior.

It doesn’t need to be answered, but I’ll answer it anyway, coyly: The reason we humans have evolved to be capable of wondering why we imbue genetic relationships with potency is because genetic relationships have potency.

Three and a half years earlier, at a federally convened symposium on the increase in paternity questions, a roomful of child-welfare researchers, legal experts, academics and government administrators agreed that much pain could be avoided if paternity was accurately established in a baby’s first days. Several suggested that DNA paternity tests should be routine at birth, or at least before every paternity acknowledgment is signed and every default order entered. In 2001 the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court urged the state to require that putative fathers submit to genetic testing before signing a paternity-acknowledgment form or child-support agreement, arguing that “to do otherwise places at risk the well-being of children.”

In other words, the same care that hospitals take ensuring that the right mother is connected to the right newborn — footprints, matching ID bands, guarded nurseries, surveillance cameras — should be taken to verify that the right man is deemed father.

Good to see the CH worldview is being considered. It’s easy to be right when you hold firm to your conviction that the truth, no matter how dispiriting, is your guiding principle. For in the end, the truth always wins out —
one
way
or
the
other.

Mandatory DNA testing for everyone would be a radical, not to mention costly, shift in policy.

So was WWII. But we fought to the end. The bottom line is this: Either men have equal rights to women under the law, or they do not. As it stands right now, the courts are deciding in favor of men as being lesser citizens than women.

In other news, Barack Obama’s health care plan would ensure government coverage of mammograms for all women over the age of 40. No word on coverage for men’s prostate exams.

“I got a picture in my head,” L. [the bastard daughter] said, “that the test people would call and say they had been wrong, that he really was my biological dad and that everything I had thought before never really happened.”

Fury and unconsolable sadness
she anguishes
pain is her fate
blame needing to be cast
she searches haphazardly
when her demon
stands right before her
hi mom.

Think of the worst things women can do to men. Draw up a list. I’ll start:

Flirt with other men in front of him.
Steal from him.
Cheat on him.
Give him an STD.
Entrap him with pregnancy.
Withhold sex for favors.
Prick holes in his condoms.
Dick sandwich.
Get fat.
Disrespect his privacy and gossip about him.
Falsely accuse him of rape.
Use the rigged divorce courts against him.
Cut him off from his children.
Cuckhold him.

Of all these monstrous expressions of the female id, one rises above the rest in sheer malevolence — the act of cuckolding. Nothing else, save perhaps a successfully prosecuted false rape accusation, comes close in distilled essence of ovarian evil. Cuckoldry is slavery. It is metadeath. It is soul murder. It is the motherfucker of all lies. As men, we are beholden to guard against it by any means necessary. Today, in 2009 America, that means refusing to participate in the corrupted institution of marriage and hiding your assets overseas.

Here are the faces of society’s ultimate losers:

If beta has a “look”, these men have it.

Carnell Smith is the man in the third photo. He is a genuine American hero; a warrior fighting the long hard battle for our benefit. Send him a note of appreciation and support. A nation is saved one righteous man at a time.

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