Double Bagger

Zeets phoned in from the bowels of DC.

“They passed this law that puts a five cent fee on each bag you use at a store. The city’s already made something like $150K off it.”

“Leftie fascists.”

“So I’m standing in line at Giant and don’t have a reusable bag with pictures of basil on it because I’m not a fag. The herb in front of me doesn’t have a reusable bag either. When the cashier asks if he needs a bag he hangs his head down in shame and sheepishly says yes. He couldn’t make eye contact with anyone.”

“So this is the new SWPL status signal, the reusable bag?”

“I hate them all. Anyhow, there’s a line of fifteen yuppies behind me. The cashier asks if I need a bag. With my head held high I proudly say ‘Yes, I want a bag. And double bag the milk.'”

“I like the use of the word ‘want’ instead of ‘need’. Very sly.”

“Thank you. I made sure to scan the line when I said it. I wanted those herbs to cower in fear.”

“Did you grunt a little for emphasis?”

“There was a genital display as well. When you walk down the streets here all the shamed-faced hipsters with plastic bags try to hide them in their coats or behind their backs so people don’t notice. This country needs a good, cleansing total war.”

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Greatest Pimp Slap Ever

Impressive windup: fi’ dolla

Backhand: benjamin

Not even pausing to glower at the chick after slapping her: priceless (Hey, the man was in the middle of a conversation.)

Giving me the opportunity to write “Morgan Freeman, in ‘Pimpslap Redemption'”: priceless infinity

By the way, Morgan Freeman once said in an interview that his role as a pimp in ‘Street Smart’ was his favorite.

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Alpha Assessment: Big Tease Edition

Do you think you have what it takes to bend the world to your whim? Are you…

alpha enough?

Reader RF raps the wrought iron lion knocker on the heavy oak door seeking admittance to the Chateau:

Night of the meeting, running game Riossy likely would approve of (though there’s always room for improvement), I hand her my phone and she puts her number in. I end with a kiss close.

Me: test.

Her: Hey bahbay!

Her: Yesy 1 2 3 [jesus, how drunk was she?]

Me: Got it. Let’s make plans soon.

The next day, i already had plans to go out with friends. I thought I’d try to stack the deck in my favor and texted her.

Me: going out tonight?

Her: I’m spending the night hanging out with my boyfriend.

Me: lol

Her: Yea sorry if I led you on, I am in a relationship and very happy so I don’t think we can be friends.

I didn’t respond after that – should I have negged harder after the last statement? I think the “lol” was sufficient – her behavior confirmed everything written on this blog – and anything beyond that seemed forced and petty. She was just a six, too, and not worth additional effort imo.

Ah yes, the drunk chick hookup. Expect a flake. With inebriated girls you are best attempting a same night lay, as the liquor loosens her inhibitory reflex. That is the upside of drunkenness. The downside happens when the inhibitions come storming back the next morning, and her anti-slut barrier stands taller and mightier than usual.

Leaving that aside, your game was fine up until the next day. I’m not a big fan of texting questions that require answers from girls. If you want to meet up with a girl, call her, and *tell her* what your schedule is like, and when you can see her. Asking if she’s free, or available, or if she’d like to join you is playing into the frame of female scarcity. Instead, you should be saying “Hey, we had a great time last night, let’s meet for cocktails and hookah smoking. I’m free Thursday.”

If you believe, like I do sometimes, that talking on the phone is becoming a lost art irrevocably replaced by texting and facebook emailing, then you may want to pursue the “trial text” strategy, of which I am an advocate.

Now, when she said she was hanging out with her boyfriend, you regrettably and utterly betatized yourself with that ego-pinpricked “lol” response. The LOL, when delivered in reply to an affront, signals to a girl that she got under your skin. LOL is the spontaneous bleat of the lamb after the wolf has sunk its teeth into the lamb’s shank. El Oh Eeeeeellll! El Oh Eeeeeeelllll! To a woman’s ears it sounds like this: “Ha, ha, you have shat upon my soul!”

Whether she actually has a boyfriend is irrelevant to how you should have responded after she told you she had a boyfriend. LOL was the worst response. Let’s examine the other three major types of responses you had at your disposal.

1. Ignore her. Instead of LOL’ing, you don’t reply. Some people will say this is the alpha way to handle a cunt, but it’s also the easy way. Does an alpha always have to take the easy way? Where’s the fun in that?
2. Give her the gift of pain. “He’s a lucky man. I wonder if he knows what a prize he has?” Sure, this won’t get you laid, but it will put a smile on your face.
3. Tease her. “Perfect. I’m busy Thursday night with your boyfriend’s girlfriend. You’re buying first ten rounds.” This final option gives you an outside chance at hooking up should the winds of fickle tingle blow in your direction.

Unfortunately, once she sent that last ridiculously cloying and pointless explanation, you were left with few options other than ignoring it. Which isn’t so bad. Use the bad taste left in your mouth to fortify your strength of purpose for future pickup attempts.

***

Reader Effect whispers the password to the Chateau consigliere:

I was just wondering on the Alphaness of this move, in a standing situation.

You’ve been chatting with this girl. Mystery Style, you put out your hand. When she takes hold you lead her in closer. Put the opposite around her once she close enough and draw her in even closer so that your bodies are touching and release her hand while doing this. Use the hand she was holding to brush aside her hair bangs moving it behind her ear then following the jaw to lead her into the kiss. (assuming she has long, not tied up hair) End the kiss first, no leaning in, feet stayed planted during the whole thing. Take a small step away.

Kino escalation is often overlooked by men as a vital component to pickup, but physically pulling a girl closer into your body can backfire if there isn’t a solid base of attraction already established. A lukewarm girl is likely to read a handhold and a pull-in as an attempt by the man to cop a cheap feel. Better bet: Hold out your hand, wait for her to take it, and then let her hand rest in yours. See how long she keeps her hand in yours before she pulls away. That will give you a good indication of her feelings for you.

***

Reader valmont dons the black robes of a Chateau guest:

A very important question. I do online dating as a side dish with good results… however, I am often asked on dates

“what are you looking for?”

There was a girl who told me that she was tired of guys who promised her “the moon” and then did not commit to her. I told her that at the present moment I m not looking to get into something serious. I felt that her energy changed however we later made out and I walked her to the metro station. after a couple of days she sends me an email that “she appreciates my honesty but that we do not have the same expectations.”

I mean, she said that she did not want a guy who pretended to want something serious, however let’s be frank, should a guy tell a women on the first or second date that he is looking for something serious too (presuming he does)?

so again, how should a guy respond to questions such as “what are you looking for?” when they come up early in the dating phase?

“What are you looking for?”

Girls are asking you this before you’ve sexed them? Strange. Either you date aging, neurotic headcases or your vibe is telegraphing B E T A P R O V I D E R. There is only one way to answer an early game, pre-sex “what are you looking for?” stinky-ass beta bait:

“A delicious ham sandwich.”

Do try and say it with a straight face for maximum amusement.

Answering any other way will only make the bang more difficult to achieve. Why construct unnecessary obstacles to yourself? If she presses the matter, then you will have to get serious with her. But there is a right way and a wrong way to patronize a woman’s shit testing.

Wrong way: Play into her frame.

• “I’m not looking for anything serious right now.”

Why give her an excuse to stop seeing you?

• “I haven’t thought about it. Why do you ask?”

Why give her an excuse to continue harping on the subject?

• “I’m looking for something serious.”

Lying is unnecessary in this situation, as I will demonstrate below. Also, saying this risks turning her off if you miscalculate and she’s *not* looking for something serious.

Right way: Control the conversation.

• “I’m dating around until I find that one woman I really click with. I think anything serious should develop naturally, and not be forced. Don’t you?”

If she’s got trouble with that answer, you are officially dating an ovulating cougar who works 80 hour weeks at the law firm and has more cats than pints of Haagen Dazs.

The Chateau doors have now creaked shut. Escort yourselves to the property gate.

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Tiger’s Texts

Pretty much what I expected from a guy like Woods. Standard issue porn jive, uncreative squirts of stilted teenboy wordpimping, over the top dominance displays suggesting his swedie wife was a harridan at home, sucking him soulless with the strong arm of the law on her side. Tiger is a good example of how a man distills into an absolute cock-centered essence once he has achieved stratospheric levels of fame and power. A man of such station is free to treat women exactly as most men would treat them given the same endless opportunity — as disembodied holes packaged in fleshwrap to slap, smack, and summon until the desired vigor of tumescence was reached. The only shock allowed here should be how much women love it.

Tiger is a case study of what happens to a myopic, socially undiscerning man who acquires too much alpha too quickly. Soaking in their power, they forget that discretion, and long term planning, are the order of the day. Woods failed the famous person’s Jumbotron test, the harem management test, and, most critically, the marriage test.

Besides the cautionary tale, men can learn a thing or two from Tiger’s texts. One, note that, although lewdly banal, Tiger’s texts do occasionally veer into beta territory. A glimpse here and there of sucking up to his whores’ needs for a sign of long term commitment, and then lashing out wildly when things didn’t go his way or when one of his hos misbehaved, should tell you that Tiger had no idea how to properly control his stable of regulars. He was always perched on the precipice. Perhaps this is why they betrayed him with opportunistic zeal, whereas a guy like George Clooney, who presumably knows more about the nature of women, fucks around with impunity, confident that his women would keep their secret.

Two, men can improve their texting success with women by aping a lot of what Tiger did with his women. It’s easy for TMZ commenters to make fun of Tiger’s crass descriptions of buttsecks and his penchant for playing International Autistic Spy when he leaves detailed rendezvous instructions to his mistresses, but the fact is that sort of blatantly sex-drenched text talk and role playing is exactly what turns women on. You don’t need Woods’ fame or money to take advantage of this attraction trigger in women. Just remember not to break out the dirty talk until after you’ve said hello.

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Spot The Alpha: Red Carpet Edition

Before we begin, let me get one objection out of the way. I hate to break it to you guys reading (no I don’t) but your girlfriends and wives would cheat with any one of these celebrities I’m showcasing for this edition of spot the alpha, if the opportunity was there. Fame is the ultimate male aphrodisiac. Fame is more powerful than vast wealth, looks, or charm. On the numbers alone, it might even be more powerful than master game. While tight game can lock down a woman like no other male attractiveness trait, fame can make a million ginas tingle at once. The resulting oscillation can dampen tsunamis.

So compared to the average dude, all these male celebrities are alpha. But how do they stack up to their peers? That’s where it gets interesting. Because even at the top of the male status heap, one dick swings bigger than the rest. Who is the alpha wolf among wolves?

The stride is purposeful, but the beard is weak. Roosh’s beard laughs at you.

Verdict: Neoalpha.

She looks really happy submitting to his alphaness. It’s not just the hotness and quantity of women that mark a man as an alpha male; it’s also the strength of women’s attraction for him.

Verdict: Jail time buffed his alpha cred.

Nice gang sign, Romeo.

Verdict: Douchebag.

This guy obviously read my post on how to stand like an alpha, but, being gay, he overshot the mark.

Verdict: BHEYta!

Note how Matthew Broderick has his right hand pressed against his mare’s belly. There is an alpha way to declare executorship over your woman and a beta way. Hand all the way around smothering her belly and pulling her in is the beta way. Hand resting casually on her hip is the alpha way. She totally wears the spurs in that relationship.

Verdict: Mr. Not So Big.

Whenever a woman shows up with two men on her arm, people assume the two guys are unsexed beta orbiters or gay BFFs. Whenever a man shows up with two women on his arm, people assume he’s on his way to or returning from a threesome.

Verdict: The alpha power of preselection.

I’m a pasty white nerd with an Asian girlfriend!

Verdict: Beta.

Hand in pocket, feet shoulder width apart, head straight, chin up, chest out. Sounds good on paper, right? Unfortunately, you can understand alpha body language but still look like you’re trying too hard. I think it’s the exaggerated simian distance he holds his right arm away from his body.

Verdict: Lesser alpha.

Interesting… Was his hand caught in mid-swing, or is he sperging out about touching this chick on her back? Probably the former. If you’re this ugly and banging hot chicks, you automatically qualify as alpha no matter what your body language.

Verdict: Kill Beta.

Steve Carrell is that goofy beta who uses self-effacing humor to boost himself into greater beta status. What I’m not liking: the lean-in, the crooked bowtie, the first wife.

Verdict: Michael Scott.

If people can see up your nostrils, you’re keeping your chin at the appropriate alpha angle.

Verdict: The suave dances to the beat of the mojo.

This guy is arguably the most powerful man in Hollywood, but inside beats the beta heart of an A/V geek. After all his success, he’s still that hyperkinetic nerd who spazzes out around the cool kids. Here’s a hint, Jimmy Boy: Cool kids have a sense of humor. And don’t lean into your woman. PS: Avatar blew.

Verdict: CGI beta.

Hand in pocket (no worries), arm wrapped around girl with hand resting casually on her hip (territorial pissing), no leaning (self-actualized), girl nestled in chest (willful surrender), classic tux (no need to peacock at his status level), glint in eyes (“I fucked this chick in the limo on the drive over here”), and most damning of all, cocky shit-eating grin (“And I’m still not married. Weep bitter tears, fat proles.”). One flaw: Awkward foot placement (“Bitch’s annoying dress train is getting in the way”).

Verdict: You can’t touch this.

Writing this post was the most exposure I’ve gotten to the asinine celebrity culture all year. I feel dirty.

On a side note, notice how so many of the actors (it is PC nonsense to call actresses “actors”) in their forties look like they’re in their twenties? (Keanu Reeves, et al.) This development is perfectly predictable under the CH worldview. As women attain more and more economic empowerment and freedom from slut stigmatization, the average man’s provider beta status — once a reliable trait for attracting women into long term commitment — becomes marginalized. Thus, men under such a system begin to emphasize other male attractiveness traits in order to bed women; traits like game, assholery, and looks. The confluence of a new cultural paradigm, advanced dietary science, and plastic surgery has produced a generation of leading men who look preserved in a state of youthful repudiation of rugged manliness.

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What Does It Mean To Be Off The Market?

Maxim #98: Marriage is no escape from the sexual market and the possibility that you may be outbid by a competitor with higher value.

Corollary to Maxim #98: Singleness is no guarantee of full sexual market participation.

Expert level commenter Whiskey left a comment about the Tiger Woods affair on a blog I read (at the moment I can’t recall the blog) in which he stated plainly that each woman with whom Woods had a tryst was one less woman available on the dating market to other men. His point was that twelve (in reality, triple that number) Tiger mistresses (or whores, or skanks, or courtesans, whatever you want to call them the concept is clear) means twelve beta men go without a woman at all. Some of the commenters took Whiskey to task, noting, perhaps not illogically, that a woman living as the sex toy of a billionaire golfer is not necessarily off the market. There are six other days in the week, after all. The typical fuckhole might see Woods once a month, which leaves her plenty of time to date other men.

Comforting thoughts, but I’ll throw my experiences with and observations of these kinds of women in the ring and lend support to Whiskey’s point of view. On a ledger sheet, sure, these provisional paramours have lots of downtime to date other men. But a woman’s emotional contours are hardly amenable to the ledger. Unlike men, most women are averse to boffing multiple concurrent partners. It is simply not in the nature of women to be psychologically equipped to handle with grace and steadiness the crass rutting with Cock A one day and Cock B the very next day. Women don’t operate like that. They see a cock they like, they want to be with that cock, and if they succeed all other cocks recede to invisibility, at least until either their preferred cock leaves for good or they grow weary of that cock.

What I am describing is not a slut apologia. The infamous cock carousel that spins like a possessed Stephen King-ian carnival ride in our major urban centers is open for business. But it’s a turgid carousel of consecutive rides, one women normally jump off of before clambering back on to sit on a new, fresh horsey. They aren’t attempting to straddle all the horsies at once.

Now some women of the craving simultaneous schlong variety do exist. But they are extremely rare. Aside from prostitutes (who medicate their perforating souls with the salve of money, drugs, and complete submission to the pimp), only the foulest sluts and most rapacious sociopaths are constitutionally capable of concurrent cock hopping for pleasure and personal gain. Some of these stone cold sluts were likely positioning themselves in Tiger’s target acquisition periphery, and he clumsily obliged like the stiffly off-putting former beta droid he is. But it is also likely that some of his mistresses genuinely fell for the tingly feelings his power and fame gave them, and they forsook all other men to focus solely on Tiger, even if it meant seeing him just once a month.

So Whiskey’s observation has merit. If a man is alpha and unburdened by moral considerations, he will have mistresses and flings and hotel bar hookups. And in turn, those mistresses and flings will drift off the dating market, de facto if not maritally de jure. When an alpha captures a woman’s heart, even if for only a few times a year, her yearning focuses like a laser beam onto him to the exclusion of more available betas in her midst. She will be happier daydreaming of her unavailable lover than talking in real life with second rate suitors.

Maxim #101: For most women, five minutes of alpha is worth five years of beta.

The Tiger Woods bimbo eruption has clarified the seedy underbelly of the sexual market within which we all operate, no matter how many Hallmark platitudes we recite to the contrary to assuage our pestering fears. People get wrapped up in the salacious gossip and revel in the downfall of a celebrity, but behind the jokes and snark of the gawking masses percolates a silent unease. Women spare fleeting thoughts that the men who love them might trade up to a younger hotter model if offers suddenly emerged. Men hide a slow moving but deep river of envy for any alpha male who makes the news by monopolizing enough women to sexually nourish the IT department of a large corporation.

Yes, in 2009 America, there are men who rule over harems. And there are many more men who are eunuchized by this dirty little reality.

Some of the quotes from Tiger’s flings are a case study in female rationalization.

Jamie Jungers (fling #??):

Jamie, 26, who bears a striking resemblance to Elin, recalled: “Tiger and I went back to the room and just started making out.

“It just went from one thing to the next. We ended up having crazy sex for two hours. I remember him picking me up and putting me against the wall. And that’s when it turned into wild sex. It was really good.

“Later I said to him, ‘I don’t know a whole lot about your marriage situation. I know it is very fresh. I know you just got married. I mean, is it going OK?’ He said, ‘Yes, it’s fine, she’s in Sweden with her family’.”

She’s banging a dude who just got married and she asks if his marriage is going OK. No one is that stupid. She asked because by asking she absolves herself of any guilt or accountability for what she is doing. This is how women think. They are submissive, empty vessels to their core.

Jaimee Grubbs (fling #???):

TIGER Woods was rated as “horrible in bed” by one of his lovers, it was revealed yesterday.

The damning verdict came from cocktail waitress Jaimee Grubbs, who says she had a 31-month fling with the married golf superstar.

One would think 31 months is a long time to fuck a man who is “horrible in bed”, but alphas get a lot of leeway. Or she’s just pissed she was turned in for a flashier upgrade.

The 24-year-old mistress told fellow contestants on US TV reality show Tool Academy she had also “hooked up” with George Clooney.

But while she was full of praise for the movie heartthrob, she mauled Tiger.

Telly pal Krista Grubb, 27, told The Sun: “She was showing all these texts saying they were from Tiger and George.

One she said was from George said, ‘When can I get in there again?’ He signed it G.

“She said she met him while working as a cocktail waitress in Los Angeles and they would meet up in Vegas and he was a lot of fun.

“Jaimee said George was amazing but wasn’t so nice about Tiger. She just kept saying he was horrible in bed.”

Let this be a lesson, men. If you want rave reviews from pump and dumps, live your cad lifestyle without apology. Women not only respect that in a man, they love it.

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The Look Of Confidence

Here is a photo taken in August 1939.

I found it on this excellent site which showcases very old photographs. The description of the photo reads: “Unemployed lumber worker goes with his wife to the bean harvest. Note Social Security number tattooed on his arm.”

Despite this man’s pauper clothes (there was little peacocking during the Great Depression), his jobless status, his search for employment or food at a bean harvest, and his home made out of canvas, he wears the confident smirk and mischievous gaze of an alpha male. What does he have to be happy about? Oh, his attractive wife. And by 1939 standards she is a real hottie.

Shouldn’t he feel ashamed to be dragging her to a bean harvest? Most modern men couldn’t imagine taking their wives or girlfriends on a bean harvest date. It would be a massive DLV. Not only that, but he’s obviously proud of the Social Security number tattooed on his arm. This is one step above waving your food stamps in the air like a certificate of accomplishment. What could be more beta than tattooing the government’s ownage of you on your arm?

Self-satisfaction will see a man through all sorts of tribulations. Radiating confidence, deserved or irrational, is what is most attractive to women. This man looks confident, and his wife stands by him. She has the mousy, hunched over posture of a woman in love. All else that’s objectively negative about him fades to insignificance in the matter of what stirs her heart. In glaring contrast, today we have the spectacle of wives divorcing their dutiful husbands (70% divorces initiated by women) for the sin of catering to her every whim by being “economic partners, lovers, …co-parents and best friends. [A]lso each other’s co-workers, editors and primary readers.”

I have a new system for learning inner game — I call it bean harvest game. This is where you take a woman on a really shitty date, let’s say to a soup kitchen to pick up your rations for the week, and refuse to act apologetic or ashamed of your anti-signaling station in life. Instead, you carry your unemployment and poor taste with the confidence of a master of the universe. Handicapping yourself this way means you have no crutch to close the deal. Everything desirable about you must flow from your internal state. If this doesn’t sharpen your inner game and hone your ability to reframe, nothing will. Expect to be amazed how many women will still sleep with you after running tight bean harvest game on them.

Addendum: I find this picture oddly sensual. I’ve never wanted to bone a woman from the pre-airbrushing era so badly.

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