The Sex Pill Outranks The Race Pill

The Sex Pill, or what I’ve termed the Crimson Pill, precedes in importance the Race Pill, which is colloquially included under the umbrella of the Red Pill.

(The Crimson Pill is a sanguinary shade of wokeness which is why I use the term to contrast it with the over-the-counter Red Pill.)

As I’ve said many times, few who have swallowed the Race Pill haven’t already swallowed the Sex Pill. Illumination to the truth of innate sex differences opens the way to illumination to the truth of innate race differences, primarily because it’s socially easier to broach male-female differences than it is to broach, say, White-black differences. (The latter is more exclusionary and gauche to winebar circuit soylets.)

It rarely goes the other way (Race Pill -> Sex Pill), but when it does it usually means the race-awakened Red Piller is extremely and prejudicially opposed to the truths contained in the Sex Pill. A few hysteric White Knights come to mind (hi Prissyman!).

Anyhow, this came to mind when PA commented about a convo he had wondering aloud about the common thread connecting the Trump haters he knows.

Talking with someone, we were trying to grok the schizophrenic character a few people we know, who show no love for mud-diversity as revealed by their actions but are deranged anti-Trumpers and they spew shitlib points. “Hell yeah, alt-righters need to be silenced, because they are full of shit.” “Latinos are the hardest working people I’ve met, you’re the one who should be deported!” It’s not mere signalling, they work themselves into a froth.

The guy observed that a common factor is, that those people are blue-pilled on women, and from that all libbism follows: “if we’re nicer, they’ll be nicer,” they referring to vibrants.

There’s much brilliance in that little vaj-shaped gem of insight. Almost all the true believer male shitlibs I know — the ones who go above and beyond virtue signaling to obnoxious suicidal cheerleading for The Other — are likewise utterly contemptible suckup betaphags with a sordid history of orbiting libgirls for years with nothing but a hug to show for it, despite mouthing the requisite feminist platitudes they thought would pry open vagina sealed as tight as tropical remora on a great white shark.

The inability or refusal to swallow the Sex Pill means that there’s no chance the Race Pill will ever be taken to bring the needed clarification and maturity to the male soylib’s emotionally stunted mind. Coming to grips with the nature of women and how different they are from men necessarily means discarding that old cognitive albatross psychological projection, and all the self-defeating beliefs that come with it, for example “I like it when cute women are nice to me, so women must like it when niceguys such as myself are nice to them!”. Seeing with open eyes and refusing the black pill soma of projection and its attendant pessimism is a curative for race blindness — worse, racial projection — in which the pathetically sincere white male lib assumes nonWhites are all one hug and Lifetime TV affirmation away from becoming Good Soys.

The End of White Male Shitlibbery courses through this Chateau. No one (but apparently Strap-on Within) visits this place and leaves as deluded about women and the races as he was before arriving.