Best Reader Comments

It’s commenter appreciation day, when I pay tribute to the love and joy that you, the readers, bring to this shadowy outpost. Consider today a respite from hateration and an embrace of loveration.

First, the best pulled from the files of Kick a Bitch:

damn that bitch fell out of the ugly tree and smacked EVERY branch on her way down.

you couldn’t crack that head with a sledge-hammer.

– “Visualizing Omega”

I’m ashamed to admit this… but I’m afraid of stank-ass unkempt vaginal canals. You don’t have a stank-ass unkempt vaginal canal do you?

Look at that shit… straight MONEY. Not only did I utilize a VMD, I also tossed in a little qualifier as well.

Bitches don’t even see it coming.

– “Vulnerability Game”

both are fat, would only let them give me head. i would also try my best to gizz on their face.

granted, this would apply to most women but wth, figured i would toss it out there.

– “Fat Or Not Fat?”

wow, i REALLY like to use the word bitch don’t i?

haha, misogyny rules…

– “A Test Of Your Game”

players do what they do because they want as much validation from women as possible.

uh… i think it’s more like players want as much tight, hot, young snappy-nappy dugout wrapped around their johnsons [as they can].

i mean, i’m just saying… i imagine i could be wrong on this one.

– “Used”

For the record, you fags need to suck on my vinegary balls.

– “Safeway Siren”

***

Powers draws an apt comparison:

Girls like game like men like porn.

Men know exactly what’s going to happen in a porno and they enjoy it all the same.

In fact, the closer the porn conforms to his fantasy, the more he likes it.

Game is the same.

– “Does It Matter If Girls Know About The Game?”

***

The Vic Valentine/G Manifesto duet was one of the funniest things to happen to this blog’s comments section. Here’s a selection of V.V.’s best:

I would go for option #8:

Pull out a bag of 100 E-Tabs and kilo of coke I just got delivered by three Swedish stewardesses and say:

“Who threw this party? It sucks. Let’s get this gig going! Everyone take three E-Tabs!”

Shoot the DJ in the head and throw on a Rush album.

Then commence getting every girl in the place to go home with you and the girl you are dating.

– “How Good Is Your Alpha Acumen?”

I was the one banging the groupies at that age, back when I used to shop at Savile Row Junior and eat Flintstones chewable E-Tabs. My prepubescent penis would probably put the G-Man’s adult unit to shame.

– “Did Michael Jackson Commit Suicide?”

“True story. I once pulled my dick out on a young 18 year old lady at college and claimed that it was 9 inches…..she fucking loved it and i procceeded to bang her multiple times.”

Until I rolled up in my Ecosse Titanium, showed her my 15″, banged her right in front of you, and then tore off at 200mph. I thought I saw you crying in my rearview through all the dust and exhaust fumes.

– “500 Days Of Beta”

“IME a significant number of non-westernized Asian girls make crying noises during sex.”

An elephant would make crying noises during sex with Vic Valentine.

– “The Perfect Answer To ‘I Have A Boyfriend’”

My current watch is a 201-carat Chopard. If you’re on a budget, check out the Louis Moinet Magistralis.

– “The World’s First Hot Chick With Douchebag”

“A dog will probably tell you how alpha you are”

True. I once had a dog try to sniff my level of alphaness. He exploded.

– “Owning A Dog Is Training For Owning A Woman”

“designs on the Zippo (ace of spades, for example), colors (black, green, red) or only plain?”

Most of mine are made of Rare Earth Metals (Francium, Astatine, etc.), I also have one made out of Higgs Bosons.

But they also come in platinum if you’re budget-conscious.

– “What To Do When A Girl Starts Crying For No Reason”

***

But the G Manifesto will not be outdone:

Once they handed me the camera, I would say thanks, flip it over, pour some blow on the screen and snort it.

Then say to the guy:

“Hey waiter guy, grab me a double vodka soda!  And double time it!  I am pretty wired right now!”

Then turn back to the girls, pile of blow on the camera, and say:

“Oh.  Would you like some too?”

Later, I would roll back to their standard double room at The Radission  (all four girls sharing two beds no doubt) and whistle up some champagne and vodka from room service.

I would deny the Asian girl from ordering the “grande Nachos”.

Then I would swoop them all.

A true gentleman always denies a girl the grande nachos. Who said chivalry was dead?

***

Cannon’s Canon rolled out a charming tale from the hood:

Off topic: I was playing basketball outside tonight in Ann Arbor.  As I approached the court, I saw a white female behemoth standing and watching next to a short black man.  The man appeared very short and slightly misshapen; I assumed some crippling physical impediment.  The woman was a true whale, possibly comparing unfavorably to Cigstache.  Her neck was fatter than her head and cascaded as a trapezoid toward her blubbery body.  I was impressed to note she walked without a cane, as I was certain she would qualify as handicapped.  Her MC Hammer mumu-pants were form-fitting toward the waistline, which was graciously covered by a ragged size 7xl t-shirt that even Cheese from The Wire could not pull off fashionably.  I made no remark of their race, because they were both, categorically, just “retarded.”

Imagine my surprise when this guy got on and showed the poise, speed, and handle requisite to a point guard.  He was one of the best players on the court, and I quickly ruled out classifiable mental retardation.  While he certainly was not a handsome man, his athleticism and confidence implied a base virility for the sexual marketplace.  He could surely fuck 2s or 3s with ease.

Then it dawned on me… My God!  GNP has been preaching the straight truth, not that I ever doubted it.  Here was a black man scraping the absolute nadir of the barrel.  By keeping such a vile beast sexually relevant, he removes the need for this fatso and such phenotypes before her to improve themselves at all!  This was not mere “retard love” as I’d first suspected, but rather, a black man’s willingness to make love to a veritable retard.  I shook my head in disappointment at this act of terrorism against the white man’s well-being.

Every time an obese woman manages to get laid, god smites a kitten. By sitting on it.

***

Mu’Min Seeks FAAAAT WuMin answered Cannon’s comment above:

The thing is, each black dude does not keep only one woman fat.  He keeps THREE woman fat.  One black dude services three fatties at once, inflicting asymmetrical damage to the beauty stats.

They prefer the fat black women, however, since they want women who resemble the great beasts of Africa in size, shape, color, and texture.  White women only manage the size and shape, but can’t really simulate the color and texture of a rhino or elephant or cape buffalo.  Only black women can.

I scratch my head as to why my blog has not entered the respectable mainstream yet.

***

And here’s another gold comment from Cannon’s Canon:

places i would jizz on january jones, a top five list:

1. her pursed lips
2. a shielding cheek
3. a bullseye forehead
4. titties, pressed together
5. backshot city, using the vertebral column as a makeshift measuring device (can i clear L4 tonight???)

oh yeah, her last shriveling excretion from those unused ovaries, via the bottom of her pussy-hole?  not on the list!  well, the top 20 list anyway.

***

Raddark had an insightful comment about why women sympathetically identify with beta males in the movies when they don’t do the same in real life:

“Can someone shed some light on why women enjoy watching beta males on the screen, but are repulsed by them in real life?”

They see themselves in the role of the beta, not the girl the beta is chasing. They transplant the dynamic they’re aware of most (wanting that guy at the top of the food chain, and him not giving her a look) into the situation. It’s a twisted kind of empathy. Twisted because they deliberately make themselves blind to seeing themselves being in the role of the movie love interest. That would cause too much discomfort. Thinking that they might be causing heartache and pain to so many men is not a thought that can be allowed to pass through their head without some kind of rationalisation to neutralise it. The biggest rationalisation they come up with of course is that the beta male deserves what they get because of some inherent personality flaw. Hence the pure hatred a lot of girls display towards betas. It makes the pain they cause through rejection no longer their responsibility. “I hurt him? So what, he’s a dweeb.” In the movie they don’t have to go through that rationalisation process because they’re identifying with the male hero, not the female villain.

***

Welmer gives us a slice of his interesting life:

ZEETS: Just the way she laughed at all my jokes. She smiled every time I spoke. And then back at my place we were sitting on the couch, and I started kissing her neck. She moaned loudly, high-pitched, like a horny kitten. I wonder if all Asian girls moan that loudly.

The whore who lived a couple floors below me in Beijing moaned that way every single night, all summer long. It was a well-honed performance — she should have tried out for the Peking Opera.

**

Game Skeptic believes game will be the ruin of Western civ:

After a great deal of investigation, analysis, and reflection, I have concluded Game is incompatible with Aryan DNA and traditions, and its practitioners are enemies of western civilization.  Additionally, the whole thing is straight sociopathy.  I’ll elaborate in future comments, but it was the praising of that stupid fucking bug eyed Australian teenager as the ultimate alpha which sealed the deal; you guys are fucking nuts.

A funny image pops into my head of Nazis poring over an illustrated guide to enemies of the volk, except instead of big hook noses, the illustrations are of men in furry hats and guyliner.

***

Young bachelor gig is always good for a laugh:

yoga is evil, it is a satanic art.

it allows herbish, SWPL men the chance of being themselves and still bang hot girls instead of following their rightful [path] towards bachelorhood and extinction.

***

the best dog is your parents´ dog or your married brothers´ dog.

you can play alpha as much as you want and avoid dog´s shit, worry about dog´s food, about the inherent gayness of having a dog looking at you while you jerk off and barking while you fuck a girl.

also, fucking a girl who owns a dog kind of feels, for you and the dog, like a cuckolding.

***

This comment by Chrissi Minx could be a Lifetime movie of the week:

Let me start from the beginning, I am 18 and my sister is 21. I just finished high school and my sister is home from college. I guess this year her grades started slipping or something, because I walked past her room and she was crying. I walked inside her room to ask her what’s up and she hands me a letter – apparently she’s up for review by her college for dismissal. I feel kinda sorry for her so I gave her a hug and one thing led to another and we started making out. This is really weird because I’ve made out with girls before, but my sister blows them all out of the water. In the back of my mind lies the fact that she’s my sister and what we are doing is sick and wrong, but I guess my sister has more experience and it felt so fucking good.

Here’s the dilemma – after making out, Karen started taking her clothes off and she started pulling my pants down. I’m like, hey, what are you doing? She’s like, oh come on Jordan, aren’t you even a LITTLE curious? I felt bad because its true, my sister is a hottie and I always wished that she wasn’t my sister. I’ve even gone as far as to fap to thoughts of doing her. She then said “For tonight, let’s not be brother and sister. I really need this because I feel like shit right now and our parents won’t be back till late and we aren’t going to tell anyone.

I pretty much just fucked my sister. No, to be more honest, I just lost my virginity to my sister.

***

I’m not sure if this comment by K qualifies as a score for her:

Surprised there is no question on here about what (if any) STDs you have. Were I not an atheist, I would thank god everyday that I have herpes. It works like a charm to scare off assholes like you.

***

Vladimir rakes the diamond industry over the coals (heh), and by extension strips bare the crass status craving and materialistic impulses of most women:

aliasclio: Waste of a good diamond, ch. Part of the point of engagement rings is that they’re beautiful, even if useless.

I strongly disagree. Diamonds are a vulgar and grossly overvalued product, lacking all the unique properties and charms of truly precious substances like gold. I can’t help but admire the idea of this ring with an inward-turned diamond. It’s a creative way to subvert a ridiculous custom.

For start, the diamond engagement ring is not an ancient custom at all. It’s the result of a successful marketing ploy by the global diamond near-monopoly De Beers from two generations ago — a completely fake and manufactured tradition. There’s a plausible theory why the marketing campaign worked so well: around that time, courts stopped awarding damages for breach of promise to marry. (Such lawsuits were based on the assumption, back then certainly true, that if a girl lost her virginity and got dumped, her marriage prospects were greatly damaged.) Thus, women started demanding expensive gifts as bonds from their fiances before giving them sex, and De Beers filled that demand perfectly with their diamonds:

http://www.chass.utoronto.ca/~siow/332/rings.pdf

http://www.chass.utoronto.ca/~siow/332/rings.pdf

Moreover, diamonds are not a truly rare and scarce substance like gold, which is impossible to manufacture except for the tiny quantities mined. Diamond is just an allotropic form of carbon, and it can be industrially synthesized from ordinary carbon (i.e. coal or graphite) in a form indistinguishable from the “real” mined ones. The synthetic diamond industry is churning out ever larger stones at an ever lower cost. De Beers is of course fighting like hell against this technology, and they’ve even successfully lobbied for regulations thatsynthetic diamonds must be physically branded as such. However, I’d still bet that the technology will continue advancing, and in a not so far future, diamonds will be just cheap trinkets, unless I’m underestimating both the skill of De Beers’s marketing and human stupidity.

Thus, diamonds are definitely not a reliable store of long-term value (this not even considering that many people pay the entire value of the thing all over again in insurance). And even regardless of that, while e.g. gold really has a unique and mysterious charm, a diamond is just a piece of coal that’s been held under high pressure for a while, and machines are available that will actually do that.  The damned things aren’t even particularly durable — they are fairly easy to shatter, and they’ll burn at roughly 700C. If your house burns down, your gold will still be there, even if melted, but the diamonds will all vanish into carbon dioxide.

Of course, all this is not even considering the unfairness of the custom and the fact that it brings out all the worst irrational bragging urges in women. Unless he’s rich, a man who wanted to spend thousands of dollars on a useless whim just to brag in front of his friends would be condemned as an irresponsible spendthrift, yet women consider this as their inalienable privilege. That this frivolity is expressed through such a vulgar medium only makes it worse.

***

Ren is a good example of the haters who took my dating market value tests, was disgusted with it, yet couldn’t help but calculate a score:

This is fairly biased. Really. Shitheads and Wifebeaters score the best? Ahahahahahaahaa. Someone must like it rough.

+6 here.

***

PA gives good advice to men who have it in their heads to do the married with children thing (or forgot to wear the condom one night):

That’s quite true, and solid LTR game takes this heavily into account. Prior to having a kid, marriage is little different from having a girlfrined. But childbirth can change everything.

Notice I said that childbirth “can change everything,” not “changes everything.” It is a woman’s instinct to convert the husband into a nest drone. Don’t fault her for it; it’s a natural thing she is unconcious of, like shit testing. And I saw this happened to a buddy whose wife made him into a complete slave.

A few couples visited us a several weeks ago, and when evening came and I gleefully pulled out my top-shelf vodka and my custom shot glasses, she said: “[husband’s name] does not feel like drinking tonight; he now has a baby he’s responsible for.”

I looked at him questioningly, and he looked away from me, forlorn. Two other dudes and I had fun without him.

But it’s not difficult to avoid the fate of a nest-drone, provided your wife has had loving feelings for you up to then. Some tips:

– do play a lot with the baby on your down time. Ideally you should <i> want </i> to do it; it’s your kid and your attitude should normally be that he or she is the most precious human being in the world.

– assume traditional gender roles. Don’t change poopy diapers. Men have a natural, violent revulsion to poop, mothers don’t; she pushes the stroller, etc. Again, ideally, this shouldn’t be a negotiated or fought-over; a good mother and wife will want to do the feminine things for her baby.

– With regards to the above, don’t swing in the opposite direction and neglect your responsibilities. Do help out and be involved. Remember that as a captain of this ship, you are ultimately responsible for its success.

– Cultivate an understanding that a child will grow up psychologically healthy when he or she sees the mom respect the dad.

– Remember, you are still the head of the family. You are the captain, your wife is the competent NCO. You are the commanding officer, she is in charge of the day-to-day things.

– Let there be an understanding, that in the big scheme of things, you and your wife are still each others’ first responsibility. The child will fly away one day, and you will still have one another.

– Having a child is really the greatest responsibility you can have. And the biggest joy that life can give you, if you forgive the sappy language. Thus, it’s up to you to step up. At the very least, you need to maintain your alphatude in marriage.

***

Basil Ransom pithily explains why girl sluts are worse than guy sluts:

Girl: Why is a girl a slut if she hooks up with multiple guys?

Guy: Think of it like a lock & key. A key that can open a lot of locks is a master key. A lock that can be opened by multiple keys is a weak lock.

***

Mopenhauer attempts a distillation of history as seen through the heavy-paned windows of the Chateau:

This is where CH’s history of the world begins. According to his version of history Western Christian feudalism was best able to repress the sexuality of the alpha male and his female customers.  Unlike the Muslims or Orientals there were no harems of females for Alpha males. Instead there was a forced monogamy imposed on both females and alpha males. The triumph of the beta male and his K strategy of investing in offspring lead to the hegemony of the West. This is similar to Freud’s thesis that civilizations progress was based on the Superego’s ability to harness and control the Id. Those disenfranchised elements of Western society were slowly integrated into the “reverse dominance hierarchy”. The last step was the integration of females and then the beta utopia, the Ayn Randist dystopia. But according to CH that was the Pandora box that unleashed the repressed Id of the alpha male and females. And so like a Phoenix, the grey-back Gorilla was reborn from the ashes.

Feminism in its essence a liberal-capitalist revolution. Like the English, Dutch, American, French, 1848, revolutions it is about establishing market contractual relations, where tradition and domination had once ruled. Now all those revolutions have been blurred to the extent that some people consider them anti-liberal democratic. And it is true in all those revolutions radicals, Levelers, Seadogs, Whiskey Rebellions, and Jacobins emerged that wanted to take the revolution beyond the liberal market. This is the role that the Radical Feminists of Catherine McKinnon and Andrea Dworkin played in the feminist revolution. The feminist porn wars was their Whiskey Rebellion against the liberals. The libertarian feminists grew worried about the monster they had unleashed and were willing to join forces with Hugh Hefner against the more dangerous threat to their left. To use Murray Rothbard’s left-right spectrum from Prospects for Liberty. The libertarian sex positive feminists were the
REAL left. They were the ones who opposed the traditional patriarchal structure of the Right. In Rothbard’s terms the radical feminists who are conventionally considered extreme left, would actually be a confused centrist middle of the road position, that attempted to accomplish liberal ends using conservative ends. They themselves recognized it to the extent that they allied themselves with the Religious Right in the Porn Wars.

With the defeat of the Radicals in the Porn Wars, the libertine capitalist free-market was established in sexual relations. According to CH this has benefited Alpha males the most. There is a tacit libertarian feminist/ alpha male alliance against BOTH beta males AND the possible revived corpse of radical feminism.

Minus a couple of quibbles, this is a pretty good stab at a philosophical strain of CHianism. Feminism is, in essence, an alliance of convenience between women and alpha males. Women get to play the field longer and more hypergamously, and alpha males get access to more free premarital pussy. (Not that I’m complaining!) Beta males get the short end of the stick. Arguably, beta females also suffer a degradation in their market value — while pump and dumps with men normally out of their league temporarily validate their egos and inflate their self-worth, their psyches eventually wither under the continual churn of their pussies riding the cock carousel, an amusement ride which never slows down to give them the love most women deeply crave. So beta females suffer a double hit: once, to their feminine integrity, and again to their value on the open market where sluts are justifiably less valued as long term partners by men.

***

Greatbooksformen (the lolz dude) offers as good an explanation as any I’ve heard for why women are prone to exaggerate their looks:

lozzllzlzlzlzlzl!

most 3s think they are 9s because now and then an alpha gets drunk and bored and bangs the shit out of them lzozllzlzlzlzlzlzl

she sounds like a 2 who got banged by 7 drunk alphas so she reasons that 2 + 7 = 9.

***

And finally, the Comment Winner of the Month is Gotzon, who sums up the mechanics of male-female relations as succinctly as possible:

My mom proposed to my dad. My dad never changed a diaper.

What feminists will never understand is that Gotzon’s mom is likely a very happy and satisfied woman.

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The Ultimate Shit Test

Commenter Jcut wrote:

I almost vomited watching this video today:

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/eve_ensler_embrace_your_inner_girl.html

Let us all be aware our sinister enemies who lurk about, skulking in the distance.

Are feminist calls to embrace our inner girl just a giant, society-wide shit test to brand the betas with a big red B so they can be more easily identified, and thus sexually ostracized? Because any man who takes up the call to “embrace his inner girl” will disqualify himself as a sexual interest to not only normal, healthy women, but to feminists as well.

Speaking of ultimate shit tests, here’s one I had the pleasure of receiving recently:

“Could you do me a favor and hold my drink for me while I call my friend?”

The worst shit tests are never the obvious ones; they are sneaky like thieves in the night, pickpocketing your balls without you even realizing it. Beware the “could you do me a favor” expression. It is designed to entrap even the most vigilant men. It will require an absolutely rock solid belief in your value as a high quality man to resist the temptation to answer the siren call of “do me a favor”. After all, a man would have to be a low down dirty scoundrel to not do a favor for a girl, right?

Now that she’s breached your defenses by asking for a favor, she can land the killing blow to your balls with the beta bait request. I don’t care how sweetly she asks or how harmless you think your accommodation, DO NOT EVER hold a girl’s drink for her on the first night you meet her. The act of holding her drink so she can make a call/go to the bathroom/rifle through her purse for lipstick, no matter the innocent intentions behind the asking of it, will register in her hindbrain as the humiliating posture of a beta chump. She may consciously respect your chivalry, but underneath, her id is playing word association by scratching your name next to a picture of a tiny, limp dick on the walls of her nerve center.

Remember, the worst/best shit tests are those that FOOL THE GIRL herself. If she doesn’t even know what she’s doing, how will *you* know when she’s weighing your stones? The “hold my drink” shit test frequently falls into this category of “subliminal but deadly”. She may honestly need you to hold her drink. But you still shouldn’t do it.

So how to respond to the SBD shit test? I’ve found that edgy humor works well.

“Whoa, it’s usually a good idea to wait until the second date before asking a guy to be your personal assistant.”

A cool girl will laugh at this and find a place to put down her drink, or forget about calling her friend to focus on talking with you. An uncool girl will make a face, or double down on asking you to hold her drink. Don’t break. Hold your ground. Capitulating to a shit test is bad enough; capitulating to a shit test you had called out is worse.

Luckily, most girls know better than to ask a man who isn’t a boyfriend to hold a drink. And of those girls who don’t know better, and who give you grief for not cooperating, well… why would you want to be with a conceited bitch like that?

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Behold Diversity

The Democratic National Committee this morning released this clip of the president rallying the troops, if rather coolly, for 2010. Obama’s express goal: “reconnecting” with the voters who voted for the first time in 2008, but who may not plan to vote in the lower-profile Congressional elections this year.

Obama speaks with unusual demographic frankness about his coalition in his appeal to “young people, African-Americans, Latinos, and women who powered our victory in 2008 [to] stand together once again.”

We have crossed the threshold where our presidents don the head garb of tribal warlords, and don’t even bother extending the courtesy of lying to us anymore about their allegiances.

PS If it’s a tribal war they want, it’s a tribal war they’ll get.

PPS Libertarians are stoopid.

PPPS Build a wall. And shoot the fuckers trying to climb over it.

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Sex Ratio, Redux

For those who are interested in a syncretism of competing sex ratio theories (an elite audience, I’m sure), Jason Malloy sent me an email responding to my ‘Sausage Fest‘ post, and responding indirectly to Peter Frost whose quote I used in that post:

Hey, I just came across your sex ratio post from several weeks ago. I’m surprised I missed it at the time, because I read fairly often.

Just to clarify a few issues:

A common misunderstanding which I kept addressing on Dr. Frost’s blog was that I was claiming that women have some absolute preference for Dads over Cads. This was not my argument. My argument was that: “Females are never as promiscuous as men (as a group) prefer, therefore when male scarcity puts females at a sexual market disadvantage, females give in to male sexual pressures more easily.” And this innate differential preference is the ultimate basis for sex ratio dynamics.

Peter Frost’s claim that I “ignored”  some crucial wisdom from Guttentag & Secord isn’t true. I left numerous comments on his blog explaining to him why Guttentag & Secord’s social constructivist understandings about sex differences were wrong. Frost is suggesting that, sans social pressures, women are just as oriented towards low investment mating as men. This is wrong. Sex ratio dynamics are based on biological differences between men and women, not on gender politics. The wider society will likely never be as libertarian towards women’s sexuality as a college campus, but even there we see that more women = more male “misbehavior”; because even on college campuses men want lower investment sex than women: “Think of it as a game of chicken that men will always win. In an environment where women are ok with one night stands, men will push for the glory hole.”

I realize your primary interest is in how gender dynamics shift with male quality, but on this issue I don’t think I’m missing much. e.g. The number of top quality males increases on a male-biased campus, but female promiscuity still decreases. There are, no doubt, many hidden dynamics to sex ratio, but they don’t seem to monkey wrench the general predictions.

Jason

Sounds intuitively correct to me. What I’ve witnessed in social venues where the sex ratio is skewed in favor of women: when men outnumber women, the women set the terms of the courtship, and this is true regardless of the number of alpha males in attendance. They flit about soaking in the attention of all the male suitors, act bitchier, and play harder to get. Shit tests are locked at maximum deflection. The men are more animated and become agitated toward the end of the night, which sometimes spills over into (literally) pushing and shoving the male competition aside, and getting blotto once they realize the odds will not work in their favor.

Of course, more alpha males is always better than fewer alpha males from a woman’s perspective, because alpha male attention is almost as good as alpha male sex (though not as good as alpha male love). In fact, for most women, alpha male attention is better than beta male sex and love. So while women may be less promiscuous in male-skewed environments, they are going home happier in their chasteness if the male attention they lapped up came from higher quality men.

In contrast, those heavenly times when the women outnumbered the men, pickup up could not not have been easier. I sometimes had women approach me.

It’s like shopping for a TV in a store that has an abundance of TV choice. You might very well walk out of there empty-handed because you figure you can afford to take your time deciding which brand best suits you, and that there are so many brands there’s bound to be an even better value in there next week.

The part where sex ratio dynamics gets interesting is what influence it has on rates of male violence. As I mentioned in my previous post on this subject, when I’ve been in bars that skewed male the drunkenness and rowdiness hit a fever pitch. Male friendships temporarily sundered when a target was in sight: hos before bros. It’s sad watching a bunch of angry dudes squabble over the few remaining fat chicks at garbage hour. I suppose it helps in sex ratio discussions to define what we mean by male “misbehavior”. Maybe it should be divided into two categories: male violence and male caddishness. They overlap, but they aren’t synonymous. This accounts for the observation in some contexts that more men = more male agitation but not more male caddishness, whereas more women = more male caddishness but less silverback posturing and fighting over the abundance of women.

A lot of what I write about on this diaryetic outpost is based on personal experience, and only second-hand do the forces of science get summoned when I feel like putting in the extra work to buttress my steely-eyed observations of reality. If you want (mostly) hard science and bursts of numerical flavor, GNXP is a good place to go.

In general, I find that about 80% of what I observe in real life is eventually corroborated by scientific evidence. The remaining 20% left with question marks can be explained either by experiences peculiar to some subset of my life circumstances, or idiosyncratic personal observations insufficiently examined by science. My belief is that most people go through life lying to others, and to a lesser extent to themselves, about 90% of the nature of reality. Everything from the finality of death, to the horrors of aging, to the pitiless churning of the sexual market, to the true costs and benefits of human diversity is sheathed in a velvet scabbard of pretty lies. Pessimists would argue the excalibur of truth-examination is best left sheathed, for some truths bring nothing but distress. Optimists would argue the sword is a figment of negative minds, a weapon of the haves to dispirit the have-nots. Chaotics such as yours truly revel in the paroxysms the unsheathing of the sword causes those who stumble into the id monster’s lair.

It is possible to make it to the endgame having avoided the worst travails while refusing to acknowledge 90% of reality, as long as you don’t act in accordance with your stated beliefs. For example, a fat woman looking for love may console herself without consequence that it’s what’s on the inside that counts as long as she pays the lie to her beliefs by dieting and exercising. Her hypocrisy, from her point of view, is win-win — her psyche is soothed by her lies while her love life is invigorated by her sexier body. Similarly, a single mom anxious for love can tell herself she is choosier than her single female counterparts without bastard baggage, but when the quality of suitors willing to commit to her and her child by another man predictably degrades she will ignore her little lies and act like a woman with fewer options, smartly offering more concessions in the zero-sum race to settle for Mr. Better Than Nothing. If, however, she insists on living by her lies she will likely spend the rest of her dreary years half-nourished by a child’s love instead of fully nourished by the added romantic love of a male partner.

Despite evidence of hypocrites acting in ways contrary to their lies and in accordance with the reality of the mating market, in the double helical arena of all against all, it is those who acknowledge more of reality who will win out over those who acknowledge less of reality. Hypocrisy costs mental energy, and when incentivized enough and fully internalized can lead to bad decisions. The few who can look the chaos in the eye and not flinch will best those whose ego-assuaging lies act to divert them from the path of personal happiness. A downwardly spiraling feedback loop can result when hypocrisy is allowed to run rampant, as one bad decision after another coaxes ever more contorted pretty lies to stave off the chilling self-realization that creeps up in the deep black of night when solitude enshrouds.

There is one truth that will always be heard. The shiver down the back of your neck late at night never lies.

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Patronizing Women Turns Them On

Reader Camron emailed:

I’ve dated lots of women and one common thread I’ve noticed is around the 1st or 2nd date, about 3/4 into the date, if you haven’t said anything for a minute the woman will ask “What are you thinking?”

Obviously I’m thinking about how awesome it would be to take her home and have sex with her, but my usually response is “Oh nothing,” and I changed the subject.

I usually end up sleeping with said woman, but I kinda feel like I’m slipping up at this moment. What should I say to that question? Should I tell her the truth? Should I move in closer at that moment and kiss her?

I get a lot of similar emails asking for advice along the lines of “What should I say when Girl says X?”, where X usually describes some innocuous question the girl asked or some kind of wholly typical shit test she’s tossing out. The answer I give is almost always the same: stop taking her so seriously.

If men could only learn and apply one rule of game it would be this: Don’t take her seriously. So much suffering of the heart could be avoided by following this one simple rule.

When a woman asks “What are you thinking?” your first, knee-jerk instinct should be to respond with something funny, silly, or evasive.

“What are you thinking?”

“If it’d be better to be reborn as a cat or a dog.”

Stop worrying about answering women’s questions directly. Playfully annoy them instead. Annoyance is great foreplay.

Better still, don’t answer with words at all. Let your kisses and gropes do the talking.

As for this reader’s specific scenario, the supersexed Don Juan strategy can work if the context is favorable. Have you gamed her to the point where she is throwing out lots of IOIs? Do her eyes sparkle with sex? Then, yes, lean into her ear and whisper that you’re thinking of ripping her clothes off so angrily that the buttons pop, and throwing her over the back of the sofa to fuck her like a wild animal in heat. But if you’re on the first date and kino has been mild, you may want to wait until you’ve at least kissed her before unleashing your inner crotch tyrant.

Truth is, most of the time the context will not allow you to run sex animal direct game. Save the raunch-talk for the bedroom if you’re in doubt about the suitability of the moment. Kissing a girl in response to an apparently banal question can be a good tactic if the mood is right.

There is a fine line of distinction between telling a girl your intentions and acting with intention. Sure, it’s a bold move to walk up to girls and, within five minutes of meeting, announce with great gusto that you want to fuck them, but that is the sort of boldness that’ll sooner get you shot than bring you battlefield victory. Your very low but time and energy efficient success rate will hardly compensate for the number of strikeouts you’ll have to endure. In contrast, *acting* with intention is very attractive to women. Your nonverbal communication (a big part of game) should be speaking what your tongue will hold. So while the reader might think that verbally expressing his honest desire is the winning move, more often than not it’s better to play a game of ambiguity and innuendo, and carry yourself with the swagger of a man who is thinking exactly what she thinks he’s thinking.

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Ass Saving and Wife Taming

Reader GdI wrote in the comments to yesterday’s post:

All very interesting but I miss CH, whose near-daily offerings were that rarest of things online: unique. Funny, pithy, deeply irreverent, yet also profoundly based on a coherent and totally counterrevolutionary (and utterly reality-based) worldview. As Ken Tynan said, “Write heresy, pure heresy …” And so it was.

Occasional forays into paleo-punk politics and HBD-istan are are well and good, but Citizen Renegade ain’t doing it. This CH-lite-by-committee thing ain’t working.

Bring back The Dark Lord!

I see his point. This blog has been missing satan’s spittle lately. Henceforth, the dude who’s been writing the mid-week posts has been reassigned temporarily to Vladivostok. Now let’s get down to business.

Got mistress? If your woman finds a pair of earrings in your bedroom that aren’t hers, simply tell her:

“I was doing some spring cleaning and I found those. I figured they were yours.”

This is an impenetrable defense. The phrasing leads her to think the earrings are from a girl many years ago. You get the double plus goodness of insta-absolution plus the resume booster of female preselection.

Real Men of Genius called; they want this blog’s knowledge.

***

There’s this scene in “Death at a Funeral” that involves Uncle Russell, Norman, a toilet, a hand, and a runny shit deflected mid-expulsion. When I think of marriage, this is the scene that comes to mind — trapped under the maelstrom of an agitated anus. And yet, despite my words of warning, some of you will be damnfool enough to go ahead and get married.

Ok, then, if you want to march into the iron maiden with a dopey grin on your face, at least nudge the very bad odds slightly in your favor.

Rule #1 for men who insist on marrying the pussy they’ve been getting for free:

Make her propose first.

Yeah, this won’t be easy. How many women do you know who proposed marriage to their recalcitrant boyfriends? I know one. ONE. But that one gives all men hope, for where there is one, there can be many.

What’s the big deal about getting her to propose, you ask? Oh man, you have no idea how much misery you’d be saving yourself. Every time there’s an argument, and wifey is tempted to play that favorable divorce card with all the gatling guns of the misandrist industrial complex pointed squarely between your eyes, she’ll remember that time she dropped to one knee to ask — or more likely to beg for — *your* hand in marriage, and her rationalization hamster will whisper in her brain that the argument must be her fault, because why on earth would she have proposed to an annoying loser? No, it must be that there’s something wrong with her, not you.

When a woman proposes, it is she who invests in the marriage. She becomes the chaser instead of the chased. It is her ego on the line; her judgement. A woman in this psychological lockbox will be a lot more apprehensive about walking away from the marriage. She will autonomically defer always and forever to the premise that all bitter arguments and all traveling tingles must be unfair to her husband somehow. After all, she proposed marriage to a WINNER. What girl in her right mind would propose to a chump?

Unfortunately, steering a girl to do the humiliating work of proposing is not easy. She has to be head over heels in love, for one thing. And she has to feel acutely the dread of loss. Hints at marriage won’t cut it. She has to say the words “Will you marry me?”. Variations such as “Let’s get married” or “I feel we should be married” are acceptable.

Only masters of the game should attempt the parallel universe proposal. Newbs will get dumped.

***

Need a quickie conversation boosting routine? Tell a chick you’re thinking about getting a dog. Then segue… smoothly, like a single malt… into an observation about how people’s dogs match their personalities. Tell her she looks like the type who would own a jack russell terrier. When she asks why, you say “Oh, you know, always jumpy, kinda funny in an accidental way, and full of energy.” (When negging a chick hard, Uzi style, you’ll want to pair two negative connotations with one positive connotation. You want to deflate her bloated ego, not crush it into a powder that can be snorted.)

This is a powerful neg that serves the dual purpose of giving you reams of conversational material so you don’t run into the dreaded wall of awkward silence.

The hotter she is, the gayer/nastier/goofier the dog to which you will compare her. If she’s a 9, tell her she’s a chinese crested kind of girl. If she’s a 10, she’s the type to own a fat, farting basset hound. Save the noble dogs like german shepherds for the 7s and below. If a hot chick gives you a hard time about being compared to the personality of an incontinent chihuahua, accuse her of ignoring the beautiful parts of a chihuahua’s personality, like its fierce loyalty and big dog syndrome. She will start to feel bad for being mean to chihuahuas. Pat her hand as she reconsiders her malevolence.

***

Chicks who read comic books are slutty. They will bang on the first night. Don’t ask me why this is, it just is.

***

If you haven’t touched a girl on the forearm within ten minutes of meeting her, disengage. Your pickup is toast. If you haven’t touched a girl on the thigh within thirty minutes of meeting her, cut your losses and start fresh with a new girl.

Let me explain. In every one of my successful pickups, sensual touching occurred sometime within the first half hour. If you find yourself talking to a girl for longer than ten minutes without any touching taking place, you are perched over the LJBF abyss. Her erotic charge has been drained to less than 50%. And don’t be fooled by her smiling and laughing along with your witticisms and cutesy quips. Her lips may be curled in a smile, but her untouched body is withering into a cloistered nunnery of pussy dust.

Kino is king. Escalation is eminent. Zap these golden maxims into your wet head ham.

***

You can catch a lot of pretend-pious SWPL chicks off guard with this simple line:

“So how are you helping the environment for earth day?”

If she’s a status-jockeying hipster, expect a glorious apologia of defensive posturing. And where are tingles birthed? In the defensive crouch, of course!

If she’s Dana, expect her to laugh in your face. Then grab her and give her a deep, penetrating kiss. Sneak in a little tongue.

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Descent Of Man

A couple of years ago two neuroscientists wrote a book about a supposedly little-studied extinct group of humans whose bones were found in South Africa. A very large skull with child-like facial features was discovered, and the skeleton was dubbed “Boskop Man”.

The scientific community of South Africa was small, and before long the skull came to the attention of S. H. Haughton, one of the country’s few formally trained paleontologists. He reported his findings at a 1915 meeting of the Royal Society of South Africa. “The cranial capacity must have been very large,” he said, and “calculation by the method of Broca gives a minimum figure of 1,832 cc [cubic centimeters] .” The Boskop skull, it would seem, housed a brain perhaps 25 percent or more larger than our own.

[…]

Might the very large Boskop skull be an aberration? Might it have been caused by hydrocephalus or some other disease? These questions were quickly preempted by new discoveries of more of these skulls.

As if the Boskop story were not already strange enough, the accumulation of additional remains revealed another bizarre feature: These people had small, childlike faces. Physical anthropologists use the term pedomorphosis to describe the retention of juvenile features into adulthood. This phenomenon is sometimes used to explain rapid evolutionary changes. For example, certain amphibians retain fishlike gills even when fully mature and past their water-inhabiting period. Humans are said by some to be pedomorphic compared with other primates.Our facial structure bears some resemblance to that of an immature ape. Boskop’s appearance may be described in terms of this trait. A typical current European adult, for instance, has a face that takes up roughly one-third of his overall cranium size. Boskop has a face that takes up only about one-fifth of his cranium size, closer to the proportions of a child. Examination of individual bones confirmed that the nose, cheeks, and jaw were all childlike.

An extinct race of humans much smarter than us? Possibly killed off by their less evolved, savage human neighbors? Curious, I did a web search on the Boskops and found a debunking of sorts of the book by John Hawks.

That is pretty much where matters have stood ever since. “Boskopoid” is used only in this historical sense; it is has not been an active unit of analysis since the 1950’s. By 1963, Brothwell could claim that Boskop itself was nothing more than a large skull of Khoisan type, leaving the concept of a “Boskop race” far behind.

Today, skeletal remains from South African LSA are generally believed to be ancestral to historic peoples in the region, including the Khoikhoi and San. The ancient people did not mysteriously disappear: they are still with us! The artistic legacy of the ancient peoples, clearly evidenced in rock art, is impressive but no more so than that of the European Upper Paleolithic or that of indigenous Australians.

And their brains were not all that big. Boskop itself is a large skull, but it is a clear standout in the sample of ancient South African crania; other males range from 1350 to 1600 ml (these are documented by Henneberg and Steyn 1993). That is around the same as Upper Paleolithic Europeans and pre-Neolithic Chinese. LSA South Africans fit in with their contemporaries around the world.

To be sure, there has been a reduction in the average brain size in South Africa during the last 10,000 years, and there have been parallel reductions in Europe and China — pretty much everywhere we have decent samples of skeletons, it looks like brains have been shrinking. This is something I’ve done quite a bit of research on, and will continue to do so, because it’s interesting. But it is hardly a sign that ancient humans had mysterious mental powers — it is probably a matter of energetic efficiency (brains are expensive), developmental time (brains take a long time to mature) and diet (brains require high protein and fat consumption, less and less available to Holocene populations).

OK, so Boskop Man is not a separate human lineage. But at least one sample did have a very big skull. (According to the authors of the book, numerous other skeletons with oversized skulls were found in the dig area.) Was it then possible that a small tribe of very smart ancients in South Africa once existed? Did they suffer from a disease? Or were they just exceptional individuals on the upper end of skull sizes for their time?

Hawks mentions the fact that brains have been shrinking over time across the world. I have also read that Neandertals had larger brain volumes than modern humans. These leads to all sorts of depressing conjecture. Is it possible we are getting stupider? Our cultural achievements would suggest otherwise, but maybe Neandertals would have accomplished even greater intellectual feats than modern humans had they been born during a time with a supportive industrial infrastructure.

And is there an upper limit on just how smart humans can get? As brain volumes grow, women’s pelvises must grow wider in proportion, otherwise more big-brained infants die during childbirth. But very wide-hipped women would have trouble walking or running, not to mention they would look sexually grotesque to men searching for a mate. Northeast Asians and Ashkenazi Jews are known to have the highest average IQs in the world. Do their women have correspondingly greater than average hip widths to accommodate all those big brained babies?

Because of this inherent pelvic width limitation, there may be (anti)evolutionary forces at work that select against smarter babies. The direction of evolution is not necessarily one of progress; it is, instead, in the direction of survival and replication. Which is not synonymous with ever-expanding intelligence. A sobering thought that we could just as easily devolve backward to a more aggressive distant ancestor archetype than evolve forward into bulbous headed little grey men. Not to say that there couldn’t be ways around the pelvic trap. If the selection forces for smarts are strong enough (and in a cognitively demanding society like ours the evidence for smarts selection has disappeared under the lower fertility rate of educated women), then perhaps Darwinian expedience will jerry-rig a system to ensure our brains can continue growing larger. Maybe by moving most of the skull and brain growth post-natally, or rewiring the neurons to become more efficient.

Anyhow, it’s amusing to wonder if there was an ancient human population much smarter than our own who were killed off by the envious and aggressive idiocrats in their midst at the time. Is that what happened to the Neandertals?

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