Archive for the ‘Alpha’ Category

Asshole Game Week: Day One is here.

Reader ‘Hackett To Bits’ summons the animating spirit of the Olympian god Prickicissus.

It feels good to find that different reality.

Me: 45 yo, (amicably) divorced
She: 23 yo waif/neurotic in the booty call zone

Some grousers are gonna say, “well, she isn’t interested in a relationship”, conveniently missing the point that hot booty call sex with a 23yo kitten beats the stuffing out of stuffing an aging beauty with relationship glue. Also missing the point that to get to a relationship, it helps to first be fucking the girl.

Recent text chat snippet:

Me: No one can resist jerk man
She: You’re not that cute.
Me: Doesn’t matter, jerk man doesn’t need to be
She: You’re overly confident and full of yourself
Me: Aww shucks
She: Point proven
Me: (emoticon wearing shades)

NO ONE has ever called me ‘overly confident’ before…oh I’m feeling it now.

You should be. Chicks dig overconfident men who act pleased as punch with themselves.

There are a lot of game concepts in play here. There’s the avoidance of defensiveness. “Doesn’t matter, jerk man doesn’t need to be” Agree&Amplify. “Aww shucks” And emoji game.

In a few short texts, Hackett conveyed a master class in jerkboy charisma game. This is the kind of uncaring asshole teasing that hot young women hungrily lap up. It’s not indicative of the extremes in assholery that a man can achieve, but it is within the sphere of behavior that characterizes smug prickitude, which is so tantalizing and arousing to women.

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Welcome to Asshole Game Week, the evil twin of Relationship Game Week, in which Tales of Tingles Torqued are told as a lesson for the benighted. A warning to those who are faint of heart or tiny of testicle: This would be a good week to avoid visits to the Chateau. Buzzfeeder bromides and self-fellating Millennial feels are only one short click away for you!

Reader Reservoir Tip fires a brood-blocked, hamster-shocked, money shot to start off the celebrations for this week-long pagan holiday:

Funny story for you all:

Last night, I ended up in a little bit of a dilemma. I had two girls scheduled to come over at the same time, mainly because I was expecting one of them to flake. To my surprise, she didn’t.

I thought about bringing them both in and trying for the threesome, but decided against it. As girl one walks into my place, girl two texts me saying she’s arrived. I text girl two back and tell her that “the shit hit the fan” and that I can’t join her tonight. She’s pissed, and rightly so, really. What I pulled was pretty low, and definitely rude.

Nothing puts a lady in the mood like innuendo rude of a woman number two.

Regardless, I’m sitting around with girl one, doing a simple movie at my place, but she ends up being kind of a bitch, and we split after about an hour and a make out.

I text girl two back, “hey come over now.”

She comes right over and i boink her.

If your value is high enough, and the girl is horny enough, she’ll do anything, apparently.

Asshole dicktum #1: Always keep two in the kitty.

Asshole dicktum #2: Don’t apologize for being an asshole.

Asshole dicktum #3: Chicks dig a man with options, especially options that are intriguingly implied.

Asshole dicktum #4: Few women can resist a man with a well-honed sexual entitlement complex.

Asshole dicktum #5: Act like a high value man, and women will believe you’re a high value man.

Tomorrow: Increase the voltage.

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Reader Experienced Father forwards this passage from Teddy Roosevelt, who in this excerpt reveals amazing powers of observation and prescience (and a serum T level that in one brief moment exceeds Obama’s lifetime gonadal output).


This is from Theodore Roosevelt’s Book “A Book-Lover’s Holidays in the Open”

[T]here is one vital point—the vital point—in which the men and women of these ranch-houses, like those of the South America that I visited generally, are striking examples to us of the English-speaking countries both of North America and Australia. The families are large. The women, charming and attractive, are good and fertile mothers in all classes of society. There are no symptoms of that artificially self-produced dwindling of population which is by far the most threatening symptom in the social life of the United States, Canada, and the Australian commonwealths. The nineteenth century saw a prodigious growth of the English-speaking, relative to the Spanish-speaking, population of the new worlds west of the Atlantic and in the Southern Pacific. The end of the twentieth century will see this completely reversed unless the present ominous tendencies as regards the birth-rate are reversed.

    A race is worthless and contemptible if its men cease to be willing and able to work hard and, at need, to fight hard, and if its women cease to breed freely. I am not speaking of pauper families with excessive numbers of ill-nourished and badly brought up children; I am well aware that, like most wise and good principles, this which I advocate can be carried to a mischievous excess; but it nevertheless remains true that voluntary sterility among married men and women of good life is, even more than military or physical cowardice in the ordinary man, the capital sin of civilization, whether in France or Scandinavia, New England or New Zealand. If the best classes do not reproduce themselves the nation will of course go down; for the real question is encouraging the fit, and discouraging the unfit, to survive. When the ordinary decent man does not understand that to marry the woman he loves, as early as he can, is the most desirable of all goals, the most successful of all forms of life entitled to be called really successful; when the ordinary woman does not understand that all other forms of life are but makeshift and starveling substitutes for the life of the happy wife, the mother of a fair-sized family of healthy children; then the state is rotten at heart.

[ed: here comes the money shot.]
   The loss of a healthy, vigorous, natural sexual instinct is fatal; and just as much so if the loss is by disuse and atrophy as if it is by abuse and perversion. Whether the man, in the exercise of one form of selfishness, leads a life of easy self-indulgence and celibate profligacy; or whether in the exercise of a colder but no less repulsive selfishness, he sacrifices what is highest to some form of mere material achievement in accord with the base proverb that “he travels farthest who travels alone”; or whether the sacrifice is made in the name of the warped and diseased conscience of asceticism; the result is equally evil.
    So, likewise, with the woman. In many modern novels there is portrayed a type of cold, selfish, sexless woman who plumes herself on being “respectable,” but who is really a rather less desirable member of society than a prostitute. Unfortunately the portrayal is true to life. The woman who shrinks from motherhood is as low a creature as a man of the professional pacificist, or poltroon, type, who shirks his duty as a soldier.
    The only full life for man or woman is led by those men and women who together, with hearts both gentle and valiant, face lives of love and duty, who see their children rise up to call them blessed and who leave behind them their seed to inherit the earth. Dealing with averages, it is the bare truth to say that no celibate life approaches such a life in point of usefulness, no matter what the motive for the celibacy—religious, philanthropic, political, or professional.
    The mother comes ahead of the nun—and also of the settlement or hospital worker; and if either man or woman must treat a profession as a substitute for, instead of as an addition to or basis for, marriage, then by all means the profession or other “career” should be abandoned. It is of course not possible to lay down universal rules. There must be exceptions. But the rule must be as above given. In a community which is at peace there may be a few women or a few men who for good reasons do not marry, and who do excellent work nevertheless; just as in a community which is at war, there may be a few men who for good reasons do not go out as soldiers. But if the average woman does not marry and become the mother of enough healthy children to permit the increase of the race; and if the average man does not, above all other things, wish to marry in time of peace, and to do his full duty in war if the need arises, then the race is decadent, and should be swept aside to make room for one that is better. Only that nation has a future whose sons and daughters recognize and obey the primary laws of their racial being.


Careerist gogrrls, like their dopplegangers, cowardly manlets, are an affront to human dignity.

They don’t make’ em like Teddy anymore. Which is horrible timing, because if ever the West needed more Teddies, it is now. And I say this as someone who possesses the strongest possible fornicative urge hitched to the weakest possible procreative urge. Yareally gotta look at the big picture.

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Exhibit Audi:

I’m not surprised by this welcome turn to the masculine side. It is inevitable that as Western society becomes in practice more womanly, the rebellious, unquenchable spirit of boys and men would find renewed purpose pushing back against the zeitshrike of the age. I predict far fewer “goofball dad” commercials in the near future, and far more “dark triad rule breaker” commercials that make high T feminists swoon with a lethally dissonant combination of butthurt rage and muffpert craze.

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NPR Morning Edition has a featured story about a lonely single man who decided to take charge of his romantic life after suffering a body blow from an ex-wife who exercised her right to express herself hypergamously.

This segment of the show explores how a man decided to conquer his fear of rejection by getting rejected every day — on purpose.

The evolution of Jason Comely, a freelance IT guy from Cambridge, Ontario, began one sad night several years ago.

“That Friday evening that I was in my one-bedroom apartment trying to be busy,” Comely says. “But really, I knew that I was avoiding things.”

See, nine months earlier, Jason’s wife had left him.

“She … found someone that was taller than I was — had more money than I had. … So, yeah.”

And since then, Jason had really withdrawn from life. He didn’t go out, and he avoided talking to people, especially women.

Jason decided to accept the Lewd Word of Game into his life, and began a program of desensitizing himself to social rejection, all in hopes that by conquering — or more practically, managing — his fear of rejection he would have an easier time approaching women and hitting on them for eventual fornication and lovingkindness.

“I had to get rejected at least once every single day by someone.”

He started in the parking lot of his local grocery store. Went up to a total stranger and asked for a ride across town.

“And he looked at me, like, and just said, ‘I’m not going that way, buddy.’ And I was like, ‘Thank you!’

“It was like, ‘Got it! I got my rejection.’ ”

Jason had totally inverted the rules of life. He took rejection and made it something he wanted — so he would feel good when he got it.

This is essentially the Inner Game concept known colloquially as “having an abundance mentality with women”. By reducing his fear of rejection — neutering it by morphing it into a game — Jason simultaneously increases his feeling of abundance. Immersion therapy like he’s doing is an effective method to cultivate that crucial abundance mentality. Once rejection means so little, a man begins to believe, rightly, that his sexual market options have greatly expanded. Once he thinks this way, his mental state gets telegraphed through his nonverbal and verbal behavior, and women swoon in response.

“Approach 100 women in a month” has merit as a task for game newbies.

“And it was sort of like walking on my hands or living on my hands or living underwater or something. It was just a different reality. The rules of life had changed.”

Many men who get good at the art of applied charisma say this about the world they inhabit: that it feels like a different reality. And it is; much different than what the mediocre masses of men will ever experience.

Jason kept on seeking out rejection. And as he did, he found that people were actually more receptive to him, and he was more receptive to people, too. “I was able to approach people, because what are you gonna do, reject me? Great!”

People instinctively admire, even submit to, bold men.

So what has Jason learned from all this?

That most fears aren’t real in the way you think they are. They’re just a story you tell yourself, and you can choose to stop repeating it. Choose to stop listening.

The essence of the alluringly overconfident man.

Now, NPR, filled to the rectal brim with echo chamber liberal pussies, would not favorably feature a story unless they agreed wholly or partly with the premise. So I consider this a major capitulation by liberal pussies to those awful PUAs and misogynists who propose game as a romantic solution for men seeking love.

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Men throughout history have known that the top dog attracts women. They saw it when their wives made shiny eyes at the circus ringleader. They saw it when politicians came around to give stump speeches. They saw it in school when the athletic boy or the dangerous boy magically acquired a doting harem of admirers, like some Poon Piper.

So the fact of female hypergamy wasn’t a mystery to at least a large minority of men, even if those men couldn’t put to words what they were seeing. There had to always have been a sense among the common man that women feel an instinctive attraction to powerful men. But that sense was circumscribed by the limited availability of provocations which could stimulate unrestrained raw desire in women. There weren’t that many powerful men to go around in, say, 1850 America, and of those there were, the communication mediums to transmit their sexy power to potential throngs of adoring female fans didn’t exist in any meaningful form. If a powerful man passed through your small town, you were one of the few (un)fortunate local men to witness first-hand how women would veritably kneel before this exotic stranger from afar.

That all changed with the advent of rapid transportation, radio, TV, and stadium amplification.

Commenter Chairman of the Board excerpts,

“What Girls Want: Seventy Years of Pop Idols and Audiences”

“When former bobby-soxers remember Frankie of the bow-tie years, they emphasize that the Voice was seductive. Janice Booker saw her generation of bobby-soxers using Sinatra to express the beginnings of feelings otherwise inexpressible. Writes Booker, “[h]e was safe because he was unattainable; unattainable because he was a celebrity, and unavailable because he was married with children” (74). [ed: laughable. sinatra’s marriage wasn’t stoking sexual frenzy in his female fans.] Martha Lear recalls a feeling less proto-sexual and more actively sexual: “Whatever he stirred beneath our barely budding breasts, it wasn’t motherly. And the boys knew that and that was why none of them liked him, none except the phrasing aficionados… [T]he thing we had going with Frankie was sexy. It was exciting. It was terrific” (48).

In the highly restrictive prevailing sexual mores of the 1940s, girls’ options for exploring their sexuality were severely limited. Through movies, radio shows, and popular novels, girls were taught that sexual intercourse was for marriage only. Their own magazine, Seventeen, instructed girls to be extraordinarily careful about the liberties they allowed their dates to take; the magazine advised against necking and petting—and anything further down the line was definitely out of the question. Discouraged from loving in private, teenage girls did love in public—they loved their Frankie, fiercely, unashamedly, loudly. They made a spectacle out of themselves, they made a star out of Frank Sinatra, and they made a social space into which generations of girls following would continue to scream and faint.”

Right around mid-20th Century America, the era of the apex alpha male began, an era that could rightfully be called something new on the scene, for there were few comparable eras in human history, save for ancient empires ruled by khans on horse and emperors in palaces.

Reader PA writes about one mid-century American apex alpha,

Another bullet to DoBA’s list of [Charles] Manson’s accomplishments — the girls stayed loyal to him through their own murder trials. They didn’t plea bargain or confess for a sentencing deal.

I wonder… a decade earlier Presley set off a mass hysteria just by shaking his hips. The Beatles had girls scream-ovulating. Was there a … female hunger in apex-America that some musicians and sociopaths tapped into. Their success suggests a low hanging fruit effect. No rocker today makes girls scream quite like that.

Mid-century America — circa 1940-1970 — was the time of the “Great Compression”. Economic and social equality were high among whites; the American Beta Male was in the primacy of his rule. All that equality is a turn-off for women; it’s bad business for female desire. There must have been a craving among young women during that time period for a big cheese, a kingpin, an aristocrat, a head honcho, a cult leader, a proto-Obama… a man who stood shoulders above other men. A…. rock star.

If the sexes were reversed, that time in America, (if you’ll allow me a loose-fitting analogy), would look like a time of great equality among dumpy plain janes, and no stand-out beauties to inspire men to reach for greatness. It’s not a great analogy, because, well, it’s hard to imagine any culture in which men faint in the presence of a hard 10. Abject veneration of HSMV members of the opposite sex is primarily the wont of the female of the human species.

Imagine how the masses of mild-mannered, provider beta males experienced mid-century America: Their shock and confusion watching their best women literally throw themselves at pop culture icons, begging to give their sex away for free to unapologetic cads. This was something new, something beyond the conventional wisdom about female nature, and it must have royally fucked with the heads of men. What lesson did our mid-Century forefathers learn? It wasn’t an idealistic one. In twenty years, a Western civilization’s worth of pussy-propping pedestals got knocked over, never to stand upright again.

Commenter Arbiter writes,

this is something I often make a point of, and it’s one of those things that move people’s circles. Women screamed and fainted at Beatles concerts. Men never screamed and fainted at Madonna concerts.

Feminists say behavior is programmed by capitalist media, for whatever reason that would be. But what media ever told women to scream at concerts? None. What media ever told men not to do so? None. Feminists can at the most claim that women “are made to desire the men in the band”, but the screaming would be completely unnecessary for that purpose.

Those who claim media can mold raw sexual desire are either lying or old and so far removed from their youthful yearnings that they have forgotten what it’s like to experience a sudden rush of lust for, if a man, a cute girl or, if a woman, a socially popular man. No media was responsible for that first thermonuclear blast of lust when my stripling teenage eyes saw the red-headed girl’s pert tits and round ass in a whole new light. That was a fire that started deep inside, and has smoldered there since.

So it is with women. Their hypergamy isn’t a media creation; it’s God’s creation. The media at best can only poke and prod the dangerous beast from its slumber.

So what lessons did our mid-century beta males take to heart as they had to endure watching pathetically from a corner their women en masse essentially cuckolding them with their ids (and many with more than that). As the romantic insults piled higher, I bet America’s beta males — some of whom invented space exploration and high def porn — began to share a general outlook on life and on women.

We gotta install microwave ovens
Custom kitchens deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these colour TV’s

Now look at them yo-yo’s that’s the way you do it
You play the guitar on the MTV
That ain’t workin’ that’s the way you do it
Money for nothin’ and chicks for free

The Sexual Devolution of the late 60s was as much or more a reaction of men to the change in their women’s comportment as it was a protest by women against cultural restrictions on their sexuality. The Kraken was released from its subterranean prison in women’s hindbrains, and once surfaced it wrought psychological destruction on a mass scale. Profoundly disillusioned and not a little nauseated, salt-of-the-earth mid-century men must’ve thought, “And I’m supposed to slave away for something these yapping faggots are getting younger, hotter, tighter, and for free?!”

It’s an irony of human experience that the golden ages of great civilizations, the heights of their power, immediately precede their sudden and rapid collapses. It’s becoming clearer with time that America’s Golden Age was the 20th Century, a Golden Age which coincided with a Golden Boy Age, and that had our fatherly forebears the wisdom they would have more readily perceived the omens in two generations of their women prostrating themselves in worshipful sexual abandon at the feet of the apex alpha demigods of the day.

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