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Archive for the ‘Attention Whore of the Month’ Category

One of my realest of realtalk posts — women are LESS cooperative than are men — contributed a new aphorism to the national discourse:

Men compete, then cooperate.
Women compete, then cast out.

The post inspired this perceptive comment from a Gabber,

Vertical male hierarchy ensures a place for everyone. Order is kept via rules-based discipline and the threat of demotion. Allows for graceful losing and peaceful surrender. Stable.

Horizontal female hierarchy causes massive churn, clique formation, uncertain and shifting status and frequent change of allegiance. Zero sum. Highly unstable.

There’s a good reason why ascending civilizations and female disempowerment are mutually inclusive and why declining civilizations are associated with female empowerment. The system becomes unstable under female deference and rule (hence the term I coined: gynarcho-tyranny).

***

In related news

A Swedish student activist stopped the deportation of an Afghan man this week by refusing to take her seat on a packed Turkish Airlines flight, and her dramatic video of the tense standoff has gone viral.

The student, Elin Ersson, initially bought a ticket because she believed that a 26-year-old man from Afghanistan was being deported to Kabul from Landvetter Airport in Gothenburg via Istanbul. When she got on the plane, the 26-year-old was not there, but an Afghan deportee in his 50s was with the Swedish authorities.

Ms. Ersson, 21, live-streamed the standoff on the flight late Monday on Facebook, and footage of the 14-minute video shows her in tears, at times being confronted by crew members and angry passengers. But she also garnered some support. […]

“I’m trying to change my country’s rules,” she tells a seated passenger. “He is going to die — because it’s Afghanistan.”

Globalizing the empathobesic White female nurturing instinct has been a disaster for the West. (And the invidious YKW with their lackey status anxious goyium have exploited this instinct masterfully.)

Let’s have a look at Mz Ersson’s phyzz:

Swedish problem glasses. You can practically smell the cat piss through the photo. How many White women are suffering from undiagnosed Williams Syndrome like this hysterical broad? Millions? (apparently)

White women really need to be brought under the White man’s whip hand again. It’s obvious they’re craving the whip hand, and they’ll take it from swarthy invaders if they can’t find it among their own men. It used to be the sensible cure for female hysteria was…

***

In slightly less related news, with a name like Rod Rosenstein he was born to subvert Heritage America:

Jeff Sessions, FIRE THIS SKYPE ALREADY!

***

UPDATE:

Elin Errson, the proto-spinster in the news story above, “rescued” an Afghan man who turned out to be a wife beater and child abuser. LOL.

Repeat after me: WHITE WOMEN CRAVE THE WHITE MAN’S WHIP HAND.

Refuse White women their desire and they will make you pay for it forever.

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A story that can only occur in this timeline, a female asian who has a Twatter trail of racist rants against Whites was recently hired (and defended) by the JewYorkTimes, and as it turns out, she also reached out to Supreme White Advocate Weev and had a cordial relationship with him.

The New York Times seems to be going through a redux with its latest hire of Sarah Jeong — who The Daily Caller News Foundation has just learned also had multiple correspondences with the white nationalist hacker Andrew Alan Escher Auernheimer, better known as “Weev.”

Tweets discovered by TheDCNF show a number of tweets tagging and conversing with Weev, previously known on Twitter as “rabite,” from September 2013 to September 2014. (RELATED: NYTimes’ Newest Hire Sent Tons Of Anti_White Rascist Tweets)

Jeong references Weev’s litigation with the federal government and says how “awesome” it was that he “got the Supreme Court to invalidate the [Computer Fraud and Abuse Act],” in a tweet on September 26, 2014.

Other tweets by Jeong show a friendly relationship between the two. Jeong asks Weev what his favorite Harry Potter book is and then later calls him “a Hufflepuff at heart,” referencing one of the various “houses” wizards and witches join in the children’s series, in a tweet on August 2, 2014.

READ ANOTHER BOOK, INFANTILE SHITLIB

None of Jeong’s tweets seem to suggest an endorsement of Weev’s white nationalist’s views, which didn’t become public until October 2014. Still, many close to the hacker or who were in-touch with the hacker community knew that he did not identify with the far-right overnight.

Here’s my theory: Weev banged this aggrieved bamboofu and dumped her. She hasn’t gotten over it, and turned into a psychostalker…of all White men. Now she lashes out at White people, seeing sexy, badboy, unattainable weevs everywhere.

Let’s have an alllooksame-see at Sarah Jeong’s physiognomy:

As a blue tick verified member of the Diversitroid Fuggernaut, Spinstru Sarah isn’t the grotesquerie common for her kind, but she ain’t no catch worth baiting, either. I figure a man with the charisma of Weev could land much hotter, so maybe he didn’t bang her. Instead, she wanted his Proud White Cock badly, was politely denied, and didn’t take it so well. Here, for instance, a sampling of her racist hate toward Whites:

I can’t believe she hasn’t deleted these twats yet, but in case her new employer (“hi, chosen!”) memory holes them, here’s a screen capture of one of her uninspired anti-White racist Twatter rants:

Yes, Sarah, we should address the data head-on:

Two can play this game, except I play it much better, Sarah. Chalk it up to a Whitely inherited cleverness inaccessible to conformist-borg asians.

As a comparison, recall that Roseanne Barr was publicly humiliated by the media and forced out of her job for tweeting that some Deep State scuzz resembled an ape. Meanwhile, Mz Sarah (her name is a cultural appropriation) Jeong revels in her anti-White racism, tweeting exuberantly racist rants against Whites, and…she keeps her job. Not only keeps it, but is DEFENDED by the once-esteemed NewYidTimes.

What we are dealing with (besides Weev’s preternatural ability to get White-hating nonWhites to expose their ids) is an agenda that transcends politics, policy, or class. It is an ideology of anti-White hatred.

Take any one of Sarah Jeong’s tweets & replace the word ‘white’ with any other race- any other & you would lose your job at the very least.

It is ok to be openly racist towards whites.  It is acceptable to treat the white race like trash & not only do you keep your job- your employer defends it.

Folks, I’ve been saying it before anyone else: The Chaimstream Media and their Democreep political arm have a guiding philosophy which can be described very simply as “anti-White”. Glad to see people coming around to shit I noticed years ago.

I can’t wait for the day when Whites stop apologizing and start fighting. I got the ball rolling, let’s see if Whiteynormieville picks it up.

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Julia Allison is a media whore, “relationship” blogger, reality TV participant, and poz pusher for esteemed clam mags like Cosmo. In other words, civilization’s late stage dead weight.

At age 37, single and childless, she had a gratuitously delayed revelation. Overcome with the emptiness of her life and womb, seized by the unfamiliar sting of a piercing self-awareness, she felt a rare emotion: Regret.

Oh, she has a family…

A social media addict, she has two laptops, a desktop, an iPad & an iPhone along with two Facebook profiles, four Twitter handles, a Myspace page, a LinkedIn account, a Flickr feed, four Tumblrs, three Movable Type blogs, one WordPress, two Vimeos, one Quora account, two YouTube channels and a photogenic white shih-tzu named Lilly who – yep – tweets (@Lillydog). Combined, her accounts number over 150,000 fans, followers or subscribers.

…but, oddly, remains unfulfilled.

In a self-aggrandizing confessional, she blames a TV show produced by gay men that glamorized the lifestyle of the barren urban slut for leading her down the Plan B path.

Readers, get ready to journey across the pages of ancient Chateau tomes. Every banality of the modren wahman observed and noted in this outpost of love is sounded out in Mzz Allison’s cacophony of rue. There will be cock carousels, rationalization hamsters, Wall impacts, beta bux, jerkboy fux, femcuntery, psychological litter boxes, and more cameos to titillate Chateau guests.

Dating columnist reveals how ‘Sex and the City’ ruined her life

“Sex and the City” premiered on HBO 20 years ago this week, imprinting on a generation of women a love of fantastic fashion and dreams of their own Mr. Big. Among them was Julia Allison, who moved to New York in the early 2000s to live the Carrie Bradshaw lifestyle. She became a dating columnist, a party fixture and one of the first internet celebrities — thanks to Gawker, the site that loved to hate on her. But her pursuits sent her, ultimately, down a path of unhappiness and unfulfillment. Looking back on how the show’s ideals negatively impacted her life, Allison, now 37, tells Doree Lewak: “If I could go back and do it all over again, I wouldn’t.”

Ten years ago, on May 27, 2008, I was on top of the world.

I was riding in an Escalade en route to the “Sex and the City” movie premiere in Midtown with a Bravo camera crew in tow. When the SUV door opened, I stepped onto the pink carpet in my Allison Parris dress and Chanel bag. I felt like a star. I felt beautiful. I felt proud. I was rubbing shoulders with celebs and the goddess herself: Carrie Bradshaw, a k a Sarah Jessica Parker.

Since moving to New York City four years earlier, I’d established myself with my own dating column and graced the cover of Wired magazine. I was a public figure who was regularly photographed alongside such famous faces as Henry Kissinger and Richard Branson. I went to all the glam parties, was fodder for gossip sites, had signed a deal with Bravo for a reality show,

For those of unpolluted mind, Bravo is the gay channel. All gay, all the time, with a supporting cast of f@g hags.

and dated more than my fair share of Mr. Bigs.

Pump and dumps. But if she spoke with radical candor like that she wouldn’t be able to soothe her chafed ego and vagina. Anyhow, it’s funny that she thinks admitting to hopping a parade of cocks like a real life Samantha is both humble and bragging.

I had been profiled in the New York Times, and New York magazine called me “the most famous young journalist in the city.”

The biological clock is wound down, and the Kingdom of Zog is at hand: repent ye, and believe the 14 words.

I was considered by many to be Carrie Bradshaw 2.0. And I was happy to be given that identity for a while, but it was all a lie. At the premiere, I also felt like a fraud, insecure and embarrassed — like I didn’t belong.

But she soldiered on for another fourteen years play-acting as Carrie Bradshaw.

I grew up a nerd in Chicago, more likely to duck into the library than talk to other kids at recess. At 12, I thought I would never be kissed.

Everyone at age 12 thinks this way. The difference is that girls turn it into a theatrical release while boys who don’t bust a move drift into silent celibacy and are never offered paying gigs to write about it.

(Boy, did I make up for that later.)

What every man looking for a relationship worthy woman wants to hear. /s

The show was my road map. Of all the die-hard fans I knew, I was the most influenced by “SATC.”

Dating red flags.

At Georgetown University, where I enrolled in 1999, I started to wear dresses and learned how to do my makeup and curl my hair. The newfound male attention I received felt exhilarating.

Still delusional. Julia, in your late teens and early 20s it wasn’t your dresses and curls that captured the men’s attention.

I even started a dating column for my college paper called “Sex on the Hilltop,” which was modeled after Carrie’s column in the fictional New York Star.

Just the hilltop?

When the last episode of “Sex and the City” aired in February 2004, I hosted a viewing party for 200 guests. It was my swan song as well: Eight months later, I would move to New York, where, armed with my “Sex and the City” DVDs, my transformation really began.

What a headcase.

Based on what I knew from “SATC,” I expected the city to sweep me off my feet. I envisioned nonstop brunching and shopping.

Women really have no idea what their lives would be like if beta males decided to opt out of the civilization building racket. Brunching and shopping fantasies would be replaced by Hobbesian survival fantasies.

It had such an outsize influence on me that — even with a very expensive degree in government — I said to myself: “I’m obviously going to be a columnist.”

Another STEAM grad putting her knowledge to work. Grrlpower!

I later moved to Time Out New York, where I made $750 a week — a huge improvement, but still not enough to buy Manolos and barely enough to afford the $2,500 rent for my 400-square-foot apartment in Hell’s Kitchen.

Cheaper alternatives exist, but that would mean reduced proximity to Mr Bigs.

I lived on food bought for me on dates and the occasional bodega tuna sandwich.

Beta thirst is as responsible for the corruption of American woman as any prime time show on Twat TV.

Different men I dated gave me YSL shoes and status purses, just like Big did for Carrie on “SATC.”

The dirty secret about picking up women in NYC is that the men there are game-less marks who really do try to buy substandard pussy with shoes and purses (and wonder why they get strung along in asexual purgatory). This makes pickup a lot easier for the cockybrah who expects sex without a price tag.

(In 2006, when I landed a six-figure editor-at-large gig at Star magazine,

What talent does she have?
*spreads legs*
Oh yeah.

I also subscribed to Carrie’s ethos when it came to men. There was no such thing as a bad date — only a good date or a good brunch story.

Can you believe she’s still single at the post-Spring chicken age of 37?! What man wouldn’t want to wife up a broad who screws around for years of brunch convo fodder and has the crow’s feet to prove it?

In my writing,

which sucks, btw.

I gave my boyfriends nicknames (one was “Prom King”) just like Carrie and her friends did.

She writes like she’s 14 years old.

I went out with a prince: Lorenzo Borghese from “The Bachelor.” I even dated the British ex-boyfriend of “Sex and the City” creator Candace Bushnell — the original Carrie.

Common denominator: all the men are exes.

He was one of a few men who comprised the composite character Mr. Big.

Humbleshagging.

In 2008, my two best girlfriends and I had just filmed a Bravo pilot for a show called “It Girls” (it wasn’t picked up). We were all invited by a 40-something billionaire to his Miami mansion; he even sent his private jet for us. It was just him, the three of us and his butler and chef. I don’t think this man was used to being told no, and he started chasing me around his mansion. I finally had to lock myself in the bathroom. The worst part: He sent us back on JetBlue.

“No, I don’t do double penetration.”

[Gawker] wrote about me as much as they wrote about Paris Hilton, but I had none of Paris’ resources to defend myself. Their core complaint about me was that I was a quote-unquote “fame whore.”

Gawker nailed that one. Bonus nailing: Gawker is gone.

Then, in 2011, one of my pilots was finally picked up by Bravo. The whole concept of “Miss Advised” was “real-life Carrie Bradshaw.” It was about three single women in three different cities, and I was the dating columnist for Elle in Los Angeles. It was “SATC” meets journalism. Producers sent me to a mind architect, a love coach and a witch in the pursuit of love.

But it came too late: In my heart, I was finished trying to be Carrie. When the show wasn’t renewed for a second season, I was relieved. The experience made me really look at myself: I was trying so hard to be liked that it was coming across as inauthentic and bitchy. Also, it was miserable to have cameras around all the time.

Women cultivate a growing dislike for cameras coincident with their number of years past prime nubility (and nearing prime sterility). How suspicious!

Finally, I cut my ties to New York and moved to San Francisco full-time in 2013.

If she had moved to a small Midwestern town instead of a coastal shitlibopolis, she might have a family to love today.

Finally, I decided to go private for a while. I stopped blogging and writing. I rarely post on Instagram.

Imminent Wall impact will do that to a girl.

These days I work as a change activist,

poopywork.

mounting summits

I bet.

for world leaders and serving as an adviser to startups and entrepreneurs looking to better the planet.

How many flights between Nü York and San Tranny does she take?

I dated a woman for a while

Young lesbianism: experimentation
Old lesbianism: necessity

But dating is not front and center in my life anymore,

…she says as if it was her choice.

although it was all I talked about in my 20s.

There was more conversational material to work with back then.

That’s pretty one-dimensional.

Aging beauties find comfort in scoffing at the preoccupations of their younger, hotter, tighter selves.

Last year, I ended a two-year relationship with a man who ultimately couldn’t [ed: wouldn’t] commit and wanted to be polyamorous.

A man unmotivated to tie himself down with a road worn, has-been slut? Will wonders never cease.

Again, “SATC” and the “lessons” it taught me is the culprit.

Julia Allison fucked her life up and she wants to blame a vapid TV show. “How do I write women so well? I think of a man, and take away reason and accountability.” (Fact: the ultimate culprit is the 19th Amendment.)

The show wasn’t a rubric on how to find a lifelong partnership.

She needed a TV show to teach her how to find a man and start a healthy relationship? Where were all the older female relatives in her life? Where was her brain?

If I was more grounded and had honestly assessed whether this man was a good partner for me, I don’t think we ever would have dated.

Translation: “If I was more grounded and had honestly assessed whether I was still good enough for any halfway decent man, I don’t think I’d be single and writing this pile of crap through tear-stained cheeks.”

Crushed and needing to regroup, I took a sabbatical and lived in Bali for eight months on a healing journey.

EatPraySlut

I was also celibate during my time there.

I do wonder what my life would have looked like if “Sex and the City” had never come across my consciousness. Perhaps I’d be married with children now?

Lady, I’m certain your arriving spinsterhood isn’t the fault of SATC, unless you’re easily brainwashed. Hmm, have I been overestimating women this whole time?

Who knows, but I can say for sure that, as clever and aesthetically pleasing as the show was

She obsessively stalks this show like it was an ex-bf. Psycho!

— and, as much as I agree with its value of female friendships — it showed too much consumerism and fear of intimacy disguised as empowerment.

It also showed, if she were willing to see, the damaging consequences of slutting it up and cackling about your smashed pussy with other empowered sluts.

It’s like candy: In the moment it feels good to eat it, but afterward, you feel sick.

Women have been warring with their essence for a few decades now, and the battle has been pitched in recent years. The Slut Pride degeneracy and its various cultural tributaries is women — particularly low to middling SMV women who must find novel ways to compete with hot babes — defying their sex-specific emotional burdens and aiming to exert a false, if momentarily satisfying, control over what they perceive as the weaknesses and vulnerabilities of their sex. One of these feminine “frailties” that the modren wahman wants to purge from herself is the undeniable truth that casual sex bothers women a lot more than it does men. Women simply can’t compartmentalize noncommittal sex with the same easy facility that men can. Hence, women like Julia “feel sick” afterward, something that only the soyest of soyboys would feel after licking clean the putrid slits of SATC-aping urban sluts whilst unwittingly grinding their microboners to a climax in the fur of a curious cat sniffing around their nethers.

Whom you’re dating, what you’re wearing, or how good you look at that premiere — none of that s–t matters unless you genuinely love yourself. Solid relationships are what really matter.

It’s funny how aging broads discover solid relationships matter when they start having trouble getting them.

Sure, I could have been a dating columnist for the rest of my life but, honestly, I gave really bad dating advice — and so did Carrie Bradshaw.

If a shiv artist like yours truly had told her that when she was younger and hotter, no doubt she would have lashed out like a cornered alleycat. The ravages of time and the looming threat of insol wonderfully focus the waning slut’s mind.

I want to be a different role model from the one I got. Two months ago, I started seeing someone I never would have dated 10 years earlier.

Cue Mr Beta Bux! Or just Mr Beta. Not many men with romantic options are excited about dating, let alone wifing up, a wrinkled slattern with a vagina that echoes. Luckily for Julia, there are desperate vegetable lasagnas willing to settle for her flabby hide rather than live in faptivity.

Back then, I wasn’t looking to get married or seek a lifelong partner, and that was a mistake.

Reciprocally, it would be a big mistake for any man with an ounce of self-worth to commit to a post-carousel cock holster rapidly nearing her expiration date. Why buy an old cow whose udders dried up long ago when fresh milk is on every slore shelf?

This man is a very reasonable choice, and I’m at a place in my life where reasonable is very sexy.

“reasonable” = passionless. What every woman knows deep in her heart is that the later in life she gets serious about finding a long-term partner, the likelier it is she’ll have to resign herself to settling down with an unexciting herb she doesn’t truly love. The remainder of her life will be a slapstick comedy of fake orgasms, fake headaches, screaming brats, and bathroom retreats with a dog-eared copy of Fifty Shades of Sadomasochism, all the while resentfully rasping through a fog of regret for the alpha males who got away when she was younger, hotter, tighter and thought she had all the time in the world.

Blame Carrie?

Nah. Blame yourself. And if your current relationship with your Reasonable Beta lasts longer than two more months after he reads you admitting that he would have been ignored by you ten years ago when your sexual rejection would have mattered, count yourself lucky. It could be worse. You could find yourself spending numberless weekends at the fertility clinic to birth your autistic twins. Oh wait.

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Hat tip, El Kapitan, who writes,

Check out this one. It sums up western Europe so beautifully:

-A rude, aggressive immigrant openly breaking the law.
-A well meaning but completely powerless “native” man.
-A virtue signaling woman, complete with what appears to be a variation of a pussy hat. Prepare to feel organically misogynistic by the end.

Englishmen are the world’s most pathetic White Knights. Even the stronger among them who have the stones to reprimand a drunk migrant on public transit will wilt like summer flowers under the stern gaze of one of their shitlib women.

And just as expected, the Pathetic White Knight receives for his valor the reward of one of his own women coming to the defense of the ingrate migrant. You know how those Western educated shitliberal chicks dig jerkboys! Maybe that’s the problem…Western women don’t want to be their Western men’s women any longer; they want to be the Swarth World’s women.

williamk adds,

My shilling is on limey. Firm, still body language, holds eye contact. Migrant always looks away first and has more random, uncontrolled energy. Would it translate to a fight? Don’t know, but the brit is clearly the alpha of the dynamic here. He even gets up for the “lady” and then swats away her little soliloquoy with total frame control.

Like DNC, I suspect gypsy. Would a “polish” guy be so quick to play the “race” card? I truly don’t know, UK brahs can help – do poles play the racial outsider angle like this? Its fishy.

The drunk looks gypsy or Serb to me, but he could be a mixed ethnicity Pole. Poles have assimilated well in the US, having caused very little trouble historically in this country. I can tell you for sure that if this migrant had been a kebab or cannibal, our Englishman would have taken a knife to the gut as soon as he opened his mouth to complain. But I agree with williamk; the limey has the alpha body language and vocal tone here. Too bad he gives it all away as soon as yon faire maiden chastised him.

“Shut up, cunt,” was the only acceptable response to that fishmouth termagant when she decided to stretch out her piehole and virtue snivel for the assembled.

I can tell you this…White Men of the West are getting pissed off. If the current state of Uppity Phaggotry will ever end, it will be at the hands and by the will of angry White Men.

White men want their White women to stand by them in their fight against the Invasion. Instead, our White women prefer betrayal. They won’t be loyal until White men wield the pimp hand again. And that means White Knights have to be as mercilessly mocked as is civilization’s mortal in-house enemy, the pursed-lip pussyhatter femcunt.

Sanctimonious, virtue sniveling White women who refuse to fight for their nations by standing by their men are mortal enemies of the West. They will only defer to the pimp hand.

***

A pro comment from Scanman:

Note the invader’s assertion that “you have no right to tell me not to drink. Tell the police.”

The idea that rules are something members of a community agree to abide by in order to maintain certain standards and quality of life of the community is a high trust culture idea (Anglo Saxon, Germanic, Scandinavian).

In asiatic/Mid East/African cultures, rules are something decreed from the top down to be obeyed solely to avoid punishment. If you can reliably avoid punishment (which this belligerent asshole knew for certain that he could), there is no reason to obey them.

Now keeping this in mind, someone please explain to me how The Bill of Rights survives when the founding Anglo Saxon stock becomes a minority in the US. If you think Guatemalans or Nigerians give two fucks about such things, you are completely deluded. It was something they had to know to pass the citizenship exam. Nothing more.

Society is a genetic construct. Women don’t have to understand it but they sure as hell have to abide by it or we might as well just burn the whole bitch down.

I’d argue it’s a fool’s errand trying to impart understanding of biocultural realities to women; they will only revolt against those realities. Better and more effective to expect women to simply abide social rules. The trick is ensuring that the social rules are created by White men and not by ingrate invaders.

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Le 56% Four are lionized here.

Related.

***

😆 😆 😆

The real face of the Repeal The 2nd Amendment March is a Democrat Baby Boomer wearing a pussyhat to feel young and hip again. It looks like this:

Still laughing. Gun grabbers aren’t the future; they’re the musty old cat lady boomers of the past.

Watergate Ghost quips,

Who here is shocked that the Democrat propaganda march was filled with the same boots that fill out every other Democrat propaganda march?

These flabby pussyhatter cat lady cows with one foot in the coffin don’t have much of a romantic life, so they have to fill their free time with something other than suicidal thoughts. BOOM ON.

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“George Washington slept here” is a pretty common plaque found at or near historical sites throughout colonial America. As his legend grew, American households which hosted the Great Man for the night were proud to publicly say so, even if his presence in their humble abodes was apocryphal.

Likewise, hot sluts who hosted today’s Great Man — President Donald Trump — in their vaginas are proud to publicly say so, and will go to any lengths to be allowed to preen that their vajeen was a canteen for Trump’s alpha cream.

How many hsmv women has Trump pumped? Trump apparently boffed the entire back catalog of Playboy centerfolds. GAME RECOGNIZED.

Porn whore Stormy Daniels is so desperate to prove that she caught the attention of the world’s most foremost alpha male who used her as a Godseed receptacle that she took a lie detector test, and gave us this timelessly iconic Clockwork Orange-esque pic instead:

Atavator writes,

Game measured! [ed: lol] And by the way, is this a polygraph, or a tit scale? I think this is excellent pictorial representation of just how desperate the establishment is to take Trump down.

Yes, you’ve gotta think that for a number of these women, “Trump slept with me” is their last hurrah. It’s a great study in female psychology. At the time they signed these agreements, they figured they’d have no trouble abiding by them. After all, having concluded their affairs with Trump, they were off to ride other Alpha men. They didn’t foresee… apparently couldn’t foresee… a time when that would be over.

That’s exactly it. This is all sexiness signaling by aging has-beens. The difference between sexiness and sexiness signaling is the same as the difference between virtue and virtue signaling: the former is the real deal while the latter is a claim to being the real deal (but is usually just hypocrisy or self-serving ego stroking). A sexiness signaling woman is admitting she USED to be sexy and tacitly suggesting she MAY still be sexy enough to catch the eye of high value men.

Carlos Danger wonders,

Who rivals Trump’s bedpost notches in terms of quality? DiCaprio? Maybe Brady pre-Gisele? And Trump gets there with 50 more pounds, 30 more years, and the pompadour. Impressive.

If the stories and rumors are true, I don’t think many men can rival both the quality and quantity of Trump’s notch count. The man is as close to a modren day Genghis Khan as a Westerner can be. Wilt Chamberlain? Nah, I read somewhere most of his lays were with ghetto groupie trash. Porfirio Rubirosa might top Trump’s meet-to-lay ratio.

I have to imagine Sinatra is up there.

Wasn’t Sean Connery legendary in his day? Going way back, you’d have to give the nod to Lord Byron, Voltaire, and similar Supreme Gentlemen of the West. Some (pre-indie hipster) stadium rockers could rival Trump’s womanizer score. John Bonham was known for his unreal hotel room orgies. He once said he couldn’t tell which vagina belonged with which face when he was in the middle of a romp.

anon writes,

from the the looks of it, Trump has never slept with an ugly girl in his life.

That’s the small detail that elevates Trump’s womanizing well above the human plane.

A word about Trump’s Women. We have the obvious angle — a cat herd of Wall impact whores looking to cash in on the bottomless appetite of Shitlib, America for salacious stories about Trump’s sexual stamina (Freud would have a field day) while the cashing in is good — and the angle obvious only to Chateau guests: none of these cum dumpsters cumming out of the woodwork now to relive their glory days getting Pump and Trumped, or accusing Trump of allegedly taking their flirtations at face value, were scandalized at the time of the alleged affairs and grandfathered PoundMeToo infractions.

I guarantee that every woman who is now crowing about getting fucked by Trump, or moaning about getting groped by Trump, absolutely, undeniably, LOVED HIS GOD ALPHA ATTENTIONS AT THE TIME THEY HAPPENED. This is because women are viscerally attracted to powerful men, much the same way men are viscerally attracted to beautiful, young women. Women can’t help themselves around powerful confident men; they lose all sense and judgment and notion of personal accountability.

Women go into every alpha male flirtation with the subconscious hope that he will make her his princess (or his movie star, in the case of weinstein). Even the sloppiest of slopworn sluts feels this way in the presence of a mortal GodKing. It’s not until years and hundreds of wrinkles later that some of these women, realizing they have been had by a cad and by the merciless approach of the Wall, give in to their bitterness and lash out at the man who would be theirs but chose differently. In a fury of spite against the God of Biomechanics, these cast-aside bitterbitches try to take down the powerful men who once loved them, believing in their tiny black hearts that this will redeem their poor life choices.

And this secret desire hits ostensible Trump-hater pussyhatters, too.

Trump (or Trump’s hog) is living rent-free in her vagina.

In related news, feminists are finally starting to catch on that sexbots will mean the end of their romantic possibilities. In France, femcunts are trying to change the law to include nonconsensual sex with sex dolls under the definition of rape. Please don’t bother trying to work out the logic of their stance, you’ll only be met with MUH FEELZ, MISOGYNIST!

If feminists are allowed to ban male sex substitutes, then patriarchs are allowed to ban dildos, vibrators, pulp romance novels, and pretty much everything broadcast or streamed on TV. Fair’s fair.

***

Jay in DC writes,

There has been a long list of vag slayers of Trump caliber. Sinatra, Warren Beatty, Redford, (Connery as mentioned), etc. Even Kennedy was neck deep in pussy far beyond Marilyn Monroe if the rumor mill is to be believed.

This was a non-event in times passed. Only in this faggoty and #metoo era are high status alpha males who are showered in trim some kind of neo-puritan scandal.

Fuck man, for anything you think about him even Slick Willy was a very smooth talker and got ALOT of pussy. Far more than Killary would like her cogdis to ever come to grips with.

Both Bill Clinton and Art of the Sealed Deal Trump are charming. but Bill is a classic case of the charming alpha hitched to a snarling ballcutter, so to him any juicy adoring prolehole seemed like a goddess. Trump has mingled and commingled with hotties his whole life. His wives were the opposite of thecunt hillary. Trump’s mistress standards were thus a lot higher than Bill’s. And tbh I think Bubba was a borderline sociopath and probably did rape that Paula broad in a fit of sexual energy after spending weeks on the couch escaping from dragonbreath hillary breathing fire on him.

Trump, otoh, is not a sociopath. He’s a confident jerkboy full of justified swagger who seems to genuinely love women, and loves making love with beautiful women. He hurts his wives satisfying his urges, but he has the good sense to keep it discrete, and I wouldn’t doubt if he’s had conversations with his wives that his appetite is yuge and they should accept that part of him, in exchange for assurances that they will always be his number ones and he will never fall in love with his mistresses.

If you want a leader with the HEAVY BALLS to take on the Deep State, then you’ll have to reconcile yourself to a leader with the HEAVY BALLS to have a romantic history filled to brimming with porn stars and centerfolds.

Manly vigor is a complete package. (heh)

williamk writes,

Trump gave this lifestyle up for us.

Other men (like Bill Clinton) attain power for the purpose of getting pussy. Trump gave up getting pussy in order to deserve power. Its pretty amazing.

His enemies know his weakness; he’s probably swatted away numerous honeypot attempts. My bet is Trump was smart enough to give up getting strange when he decided to run for president. And of course, chances he’s had any new pussy since getting inaugurated is just about 0%.

Trump’s sacrifices shame our craven self-serving establishment rulers. He deserves our loyalty. He deserves our fight.

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Female hypergamy isn’t equally voracious in all women, but all women are hypergamous to an extent. Absent social controls (aka a dominant and benevolently sexist patriarchy), women will revert to their primitive form: willing and eager concubines to an alpha male’s harem as the beta males are recruited for frontline fodder and emotional tampons.

Our Twatterer above is @missmayn:

Not too shabby for a broad touched by the mystery meat brush. Would bang……and bolt. She’s right to emphasize her fuckability, because with her attitude and thousand cock stare*, her value as relationship material is bargain bint.

*Her right eye is half-closed from an irritating wayward cumshot.

Of course, her LTR worthiness hardly matters in the hypergamous feminist dystopia she wants for her and her bastard progeny; as long as beta males are platonically squeezed dry for their civilization-sustaining efforts, women can afford to fuck around and have Beta Daddy State pick up the tab for their fatherless sprog. Welcome to Africa-lite, soon to be Africa-maximum when those beta males figure out the scam and decide to opt out of their fleecing. Then Miss Never A Mayn Squeeze can deal with the “best men” beating her like an untrained puppy and segregating her in the grass hut that is now her home because women don’t build things, maintain things, or lead anything.

Poolside looking better yet, gentlemen?

***

Update

Here’s a photobooth picture of Miss Mayn with her bf:

Now what does her bf’s soy-soaked gaping betaphag mughole remind me of…..oh yeah: the nümale grimace aka Moneyshot Face.

This leetle detail explains everything. Miss Mayn is transferring her animal disgust for her soyboy onto every beta male who crossed her cum-eyed path. She has him, when what she really tingles for is…..him:

The date stamp on that booth photo is a year ago. Taking bets on whether they’re still together or how much longer they’ll last if they are still in unpolarized union.

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