The twelve ignominious betas for each month of 2009 have been declared by popular vote and now it is time for you, the readers, to vote for a final winner from among those twelve for the Beta of the Year contest. Consider carefully the candidates below before casting your vote for the one man to mewl them all, because the 2009 BOTY will represent in one ingloriously distilled beta everything that is most loathsome about the current configuration of modern man — the white knighters, the wool pullers, the self-deluding, the pedestalers, the manginas, the herbs, the nancyboys, the castrati, the party line platitudinizers, the phony equalists, and the oneitis chumps. He will serve as a warning to other men and a valuable lesson for boys on their way into manhood, and through his example will guide them away from the path of self-immolation and into the light of the truth about not only the nature of women, but the nature of their own behavior in the company of women. Not to mention, the BOTY is a handy touchstone for future scholars searching for reasons why the West fell into ruin so suddenly and catastrophically.
If you want to read the individual stories behind each of the BOTM winners, just click on the “Beta of the Year Contest” link under the “Select Category” pull-down menu in the righthand column.
I’ve included the names of the readers who submitted the winning BOTMs in parentheses in the voting choices. The winning submission for 2009 BOTY will be announced in the coming days.
The final candidate of 2009! Tomorrow we reveal the contest for the Beta of the Year.
Last month’s winner, by a healthy margin, was a cuckold who asked his cheating girlfriend on a call-in radio program how he could “make her love him more”. She told him, in essence, to grow a pair, but he proved unable to escape his beta hell vortex. Congratulations to reader Patrick for submitting that vomitous entry.
December coughed up a bumper crop of holiday betas. Must be those long winter nights.
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December 2009 BOTM Candidate #1 was submitted by reader Marko. Fittingly for the times, our featured beta is the cuckold of one of Tiger Woods’ many mistresses. What astounds about this man was how willfully blind he was when his girlfriend informed him that Tiger had given her his number. Just how little does a woman have to respect a man to decide it’s perfectly harmless to tell him a really famous billionaire jock gave her his number? She probably figured he was such a rabid fan of Mr. Woods’ talent for driving to the hole that he wouldn’t put two and two together. She was right.
Derek, 28, a golf fan who used to idolise Woods, said: “I was a massive Tiger fan. I had Tiger Woods memorabilia all over my house and even collected Tiger Woods videos.
“On the night Jamie met him for the first time, I had just bought the new Tiger Woods computer game. The following morning she told me she had met Tiger Woods and he gave her his number – and like an idiot I got really excited about it.
“I even asked her if she could call him so I could get my computer game signed.
“I knew Tiger had come on to her and asked for her number. I knew that he called her whenever he came to Las Vegas.
But she insisted that nothing was going on.”
Self-delusion is likely an evolved trait in humans, but in some people it seems to have evolved beyond the point of usefulness.
Derek said: “She told me she got called over by a bouncer who said someone important wanted to meet her in the VIP room.
“She said she did not know it was Tiger Woods until she was brought to his table. He immediately started hitting on her and telling her she was beautiful. She told me he asked for her number and gave her his.
“I was surprised because I knew he was married and I didn’t think he was that type of guy. But I trusted Jamie. We had been engaged for over a year then – having first started dating in 2002 – and were head over heels in love.”
The only thing preventing most men from being “that type of guy” is 1. lack of options and 2. violence from aggrieved parties. In modern Western society, number 1 is the primary brake on expressions of pure love. Sure, religion plays some role in curbing the basest instincts of men and women, but the old school hardcore precepts of religion are on the way out, Walmart-ized evangelical fervor notwithstanding to the contrary.
As for the issue of trust, as Reagan so memorably put it, “Trust but verify.” (Commie pinkos and women, more in common than you’d imagine.) I’m no cynic. I bet that Derek and Jamie were head over heels in love when she had her fortuitous encounter with Woods. But, you know, a better deal has a way of putting the vice to virtue.
My favorite quote is the last:
Derek, who is now engaged to another woman, said: “I think Tiger is a great competitor on the golf course, but away from it he is a horrible person.
“He should have more respect for himself and his family. I am certainly not a fan of his any more.”
Now that’s alpha. Tear down that life-sized poster of Tiger Woods, Mister Derek!
What saves this guy from the pit of omegatude is his (putatively) wise decision to cut Jamie out of his life and start fresh with a new woman. Or maybe Jamie dumped him after Derek refused to get cross with her for her philandering? The mind reels at the excruciating possibilities.
On a related note, reader Cannon’s Canon wrote:
derek schmidt definitely got played, but really though, what was his alpha move? i don’t think the party line of amused mastery is gonna cut it against a billionaire athlete that she knows you already jock. the only thing i can think of is deleting the number from her phone yourself with a strongarm move, then initiating two hours of domineering jackhammer sex, perhaps in an unconventional room to drill it into her memory. enough to knock her out of commission for a day or so, numbing those gina tingles. this may also have to become standard fare for a while.
so how do you AMOG tiger woods? start playing fight night instead??
Good points. When the AMOG is light years above you in status, and is in fact someone you practically worship, amused mastery won’t save you. A cocky smirk is not going to keep, let’s say, George Clooney, were he so inclined, from seducing and bedding your loyal girl. My advice for handling this presumably rare scenario, given that you want to run some game on the girl to see if you can turn it around, is to hit her up with a straight shot of the truth:
“Tiger Woods gave you his number last night? Unless proven otherwise, you are a cheater. Here’s the deal. You delete his number and change your phone number so he can never contact you again, or I leave. Before you make your deicsion, let me remind you that should you choose Woods, he will fuck you a few more times then tire of you as he moves onto another concubine in his rotation of regulars. He will never marry you. He will never make you a princess. You will never be more than a whore in his parade of whores. I, on the other hand, once gone am gone for good. I’ll give you fifteen mintues alone to make your deicsion.”
But really, phone number exchange with a celebrity should be instant grounds for dumping a chick. Even if she didn’t cheat with him (unlikely), visions of his celebuface will be dancing in her head every time you two make love.
A husband whose wife tried to kill him by slitting his throat after plying him with a sex drug said today he still loved her and wanted her freed from prison.
Peter Hale, 43, spoke out after seeing his wife, Joanne, sentenced to six years’ jail after being found guilty of attempted murder.
Hale, 39, was having an ‘affair’ with a married man when she gave Peter a sex drug called ‘Horny Goat Weed’ and lured him to woodland in Bristol. There she cut his throat and stabbed him in the chest before running off.
There is so much wrong with this article. Check out this quote:
Mr Hale was present in court today and was thanked by the judge for supporting his wife.
Maybe I’m missing some important legal precedent here, but why is the judge thanking Hale for “supporting” his deranged, fugly, homicidal whoring wife? Shouldn’t the judge be admonishing Hale to sack up and stop giving aid and comfort to someone who tried to kill him? To go find himself a better woman instead of white knighting like a chump for a waste of flesh? To stop loving someone who so obviously despises him? I guess I’m just not that enlightened in the emanations and penumbras of society’s progressive jurisprudence.
Or maybe there are too many milquetoast manginas in the legal profession.
After the case, Mr Hale said: ‘I hope that she is out as soon as possible. My evidence was very confused and I hope that we have grounds for an appeal. I still love her very much.
‘I am pleased with the comments of the judge and the sentence is probably the best we could have hoped for.’
The court heard that Hale, who has been in custody for 239 days, had made two attempts on her life since being arrested.
Mr Hale had written numerous letters to the court in which he repeated that the incident was not his wife’s fault and that he was willing to forgive her.
He also said his life without her was terrible and he was still deeply in love with her.
“My evidence was very confused”? It’s worse than I thought. So not only does he continue to love his would-be killer, he is working hard to reduce her sentence so that he can sooner leap into her flabby arms to deliver a comforting hug of forgiveness. I can almost hear his words now, as he struggles to allay her guilt for slitting his throat: “No really, honeybunny, I understand you were under a lot of stress. I wasn’t keeping up my end of the chores, or taking you out on romantic dinners. But that’s all going to change now. And let me just add how beautiful it is the way the moonlight sparkles in your pig-like eyes.”
A number of letters from friends handed to the court said Hale was ‘a kind and caring person who would do anything for anyone’.
There’s your problem right there, buddy.
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December 2009 BOTM Candidate #3 was submitted by reader Hitbids. Remember my early post about envisioning all your communications with a girl on a giant Jumbotron screen for mass public viewing? The idea is a simple one. If your words of love would elicit cringes from a studio audience, you are probably doing it wrong. If, on the other hand, you would not be embarrassed by a public viewing of your emails or phone convos or text messages with a girl you are trying to bed, you can be assured she is getting turned on. Well, this candidate failed the Jumbotron test spectacularly. It’s long so I won’t quote it here (I can’t seem to copy/paste from that site anyhow), but you can read the whole thing over here. Quaff an antacid before diving in. It’s a text exchange between a recently dumped man and the ex with whom he’s trying to reinitiate sex. I liked the part when he texted her a random message about the weather forecast. Maybe you ladies are unaware, but when a man texts completely random shit about stuff you know he can’t possibly care about, he’s just worming his way onto your attention radar for eventual sex.
Here’s my favorite line from the dude:
Have you felt the need of getting intimate again? Im at that stage where I feel I can do almost anything! I can be between your legs for as long as you want.
How about 50 years? Because, you know, he’s the kind of guy who won’t have anything else going on.
The chick does not go without blame. She strings him along when she could have simply not responded to any of his attempts at contact. Women like to cry victim in these situations, but the truth is that a lot of them love the attention and power tripping they can get from toying with a needy beta. They’re simultaneously repulsed and addicted to the clumsy pursuits of the sex starved man. Regardless of her complicity, he should know better than to feed her ego, so he earns a spot at the BOTM table.
Also note the girl says she gets turned off by emoticons, something I have admonished against as well.
We’re getting near the end of the year when the final beta — the One Beta to rule them all — is voted upon for inclusion into the pussywhipped Hall of Infamy. Last month’s winner, sent in by reader waysa, was the Croatian tennis “pro” (loosely defined) who begged and pleaded not just for sex, but for marriage!, from a has-been single mom cougar. Let’s hope for the Croat’s sake he was angling for the future divorce payday from his wealthy older lady lover.
November 2009 BOTM Candidate #1 was submitted by Mike (“Anonymous” technically got there first, but any submission signed anonymously is excluded from receiving props). A picture tells a thousand words:
The great thing about this picture is that no matter what the reason for this unfortunate man’s prostration, his action sullies him with the mark of the beta. And a really nauseating beta at that. If he lost a bet, he is a beta for playing poor odds that would result in him paying up in such a pathetic manner. If it’s a fetish, then this is proof that some fetishes are the domain of losers. If you must have a fetish, make it something alpha like collaring your woman. Beta fetishes: peeping tom/voyeurism, flashing, bang my wife, wearing women’s skin as suit and tucking junk between legs. Alpha fetishes: BDSM, amateur porn filmmaking, public sex, ceiling mirrors, saying “giggity” when you successfully close the deal.
If he’s doing it as penance for some horrible relationship transgression, he wins alpha points for the transgression but immediately gives them back and then some for agreeing to this form of punishment. If he’s doing it as a clownish joke to get on the internet, well… there are some self-deprecating jokes that you should never do. Good rule of thumb: If the Jackass guys won’t do it, neither should you.
If this photo portrays exactly what is happening — a sackless boyfriend dropping to hands and knees so his tired girlfriend can sit on him and humiliate him in public — then the beta on display here is so strong it defies explanation.
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November 2009 BOTM Candidate #2 was submitted by Ross W. Have you ever wondered what happens when an inborn beta becomes a little too aggressively creepy in his pursuit of a taken woman? Well now, thanks to Lamebook, you can read a stellar example of just such a specimen.
I’m not going to categorize all the ways this guy Andrew misunderstands the nature of women. Suffice to say, he fails the Jumbotron test. Spectacularly.
By the way, Carla’s reply was better than Lee’s. Brevity is the soul of spit.
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November 2009 BOTM Candidate #3 was submitted by Patrick. It’s a radio broadcast of a “War of the Roses” prank that features a cuckolded man literally begging his cheating live-in girlfriend to stay with him. Listen to the whole thing but pay particular attention starting at -02:50.
I honestly had a hard time making it through to the end, it was that bad. If I had to distill the beta essence in a few words, it would be “What can I do to make you love me?” Which is what this pathetic cur says. Over and over. Even after being told his mewling is not helping his cause.
The problem with betas is that they believe in the promise of hope instead of the disenchantment of reality. Listen to this guy closely. He finds all this evidence that his GF is cheating — the birth control, the new lingerie, the Facebook emails — and yet he continues nurturing hope that she isn’t doing what he knows deep inside she’s doing, and that she still has the capacity to love him. Hope is the great alpha killer, the destroyer of masculinity, the betrayer of dignity. It serves one purpose only — to trick you away from the path of righteous self interest. Weak people cling to hope. But hope is a faint siren song; as soon as you taste some success you will forget all about hope and wallow in the delights of reality.
Besides serving as cruel amusement for the coliseum, there is another very good reason for publicly shaming these wretched betas: their needy behavior feeds the treachery of women, which in turn poisons the well for every other man making his way in the mating market. By refusing to confront his bitch whore girlfriend in the only way that would earn any respect from her (and respect from women is measured in the oscillation of their tingle wavelength), the man in this radio clip unwittingly contributes to the romantic feelings between his girlfriend and her lover. Freed from the threat of his anger or his ultimatums or even his awareness, she is able to nourish her illicit love affiair with the thrill of secrecy and dangerous rendezvous. As we all know about women, a little mystery and taboo goes a long way to infusing a man with allure. You want your unfaithful girlfriend to really get the most out of her affair? Simple. Just play the fool and let her sneak around like a tramp in the night, her lover’s embrace made all the more compelling by the transgressive narrative. But confront her and leave her, and suddenly her lover is not so intriguing anymore.
There’s a reason women despise men like this guy Conor from the radio clip. When a woman cheats on you she does not want to hear that you still love her. All that tells her is that you have low standards and an even lower expectation that you could do better. It also confirms her suspicion that you love her for no other reason than the sex that she provides. Of course, alpha males also love for those shallow reasons, but they are smart enough to know that love can’t be requested. It must be earned.
Gentlemen, grab your cat o’ nine tails because we’re in for another round of beta lashings. Deliver these betas from their trespasses and lead them not unto self-constructed torment. Sweet, sweet deliverance.
It was a tight race, but the winner by a plurality of the September 2009 BOTM was the sad sack husband who is aware of and tolerates his wife’s repeatedly consorting with serial killer Richard Ramirez. Tolerance is such a beta virtue. Congratulations, sir, for helping to teach men the world over that the way to a woman’s heart is through an ear to ear throat slit. Preferably more than once.
October 2009 BOTM Candidate #1 was submitted by Johnny Gage.
Amusing? Yeah, sure. Will make other women go “Awwww”? Probably. Beta? You beta believe it!
Just because something is attention grabbing, doesn’t mean you should do it. Anyone want to bet this guy’s wife rocks 200+ pounds?
******
October 2009 BOTM Candidate #2 was gleefully submitted by waysa. It’s a New York Beta Times wedding story about a Croatian tennis pro who threw away his alpha capital by marrying an older single mom. Just flushed it right down the toilet. There are so many great quotes in this article. Let’s examine the kind of prize that tennis pro Marko Zelenovic foolishly decided to hitch his Croat balls to:
At 18, [Brooke ALexander] arrived in New York on a one-way plane ticket. By the time she was 39, she had a successful career as a model and soap opera actress, a sunny one-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side and a big circle of friends she calls her ‘ohana (Hawaiian for family). Yet she yearned to be a mother, and was known to wear a T-shirt with the message, “I can’t believe I forgot to have children.”
She was the last person anyone thought would be single at 39. “Why would this gorgeous, talented, amazing woman be alone?” said Bill Block, a film producer and friend. “She loved the rockers, the great-looking bad boys, and they never panned out.”
She’s like a character straight out of a CH novel, except I didn’t make her up.
But wait, it gets better.
She forged ahead and joined Single Mom by Choice, an organization that guides single women through the process of becoming mothers. “I knew we’re given one life and if there’s something incredibly important to you and there’s an open door, go through it and give it everything you got,” Ms. Alexander said. The organization helped her find a sperm donor and on Jan. 8, 2004, she gave birth to a son, Jace, in a room full of female friends. “I wasn’t alone,” she said. “I just didn’t have a husband.”
When Jace was a year old, Ms. Alexander started thinking about dating again. She placed an online ad, which was a disillusioning experience.
Disillusioning? You don’t say? Now I wonder why (40s) she would have such trouble (40s, bastard kid) finding a guy willing to stick around (40s, bastard kid, fucked in the head yupster)?
The dude she eventually lucked out with (and I mean she hit the goddamn lottery. She should be making nightly sacrifices to the god of biomechanics.):
Then, in November 2005, a friend said she wanted to introduce her to Marko Zelenovic, a handsome tennis pro from Croatia who is known among his clients as the Croatian Sensation.
Her friend persuaded her to have lunch with Mr. Zelenovic. “He was in a banquette, facing the wall, not looking around the room,” Ms. Alexander, now 46, recalled. “He was a gentleman, waiting for his date.”
Paper alpha.
“I was very aware of the first time his knee pressed up against mine,” she said. “It was like two magnets connected.”They were rarely apart after that. “I spent a lot of money on baby sitters,” she said.
Future juvenile delinquent and paint huffer.
He moved into her apartment soon after they met, where he slept on her couch for three years, out of respect for Jace.
Wait, isn’t the kid like, 2 years old at this point? What kid that young will understand the concept of respect, or even what goes on in his mother’s bedroom? Jesus, the New York Beta Times knows how to induce projectile vomiting.
“The love I have for Marko is very quiet, very deep and very rooted,” Ms. Alexander said.
Ever notice how the most high-falutin’ pseudo-profound words are used to describe the most strained, mature sort of love? Real heart-squeezing and gut-rending love, the kind that feels like a drug, is never described in this way by young people who are actually experiencing it. I’m reminded again how often “grown-up” dating and falling in love resembles a business proposition rather than an electric emotional rollercoaster.
Mr. Zelenovic says he fell in love with Ms. Alexander because of Jace, not in spite of him. “Honest to God, Jace was an asset,” he said. “The kid, for me, is pure joy. He’s someone I want to be with all the time.”
Still, Ms. Alexander admits she “put Marko through the paces” and “spent about a year analyzing whether or not he was a fit role model for my son.”
The exquisite betatude of the nonjudgemental cuckold in waiting. It’s a self-parody. There’s something wrong with this Croat that the NYBTimes isn’t telling us. Mentally unbalanced? Broke? Micropenis? The truth is out there.
Can it get more pathetic? Yes, it can:
He brought up the subject of marriage a few times; she always changed the subject. “It was like, what is holding me back?” Ms. Alexander said. “It was the mother wolf. It was really hard for me to give up my single motherhood and let Marko in.”
No one ever went broke underestimating the betaness of the man who repeatedly begs for marriage. From a cougar. With cub.
The couple are now expanding their apartment into a two-bedroom. Mr. Zelenovic said he told his bride, “I’ve spent three NBA seasons on your couch. I’m not spending a fourth.”
Oh, you will be dude. At least you’ve gotten plenty of practice.
******
October 2009 BOTM Candidate #3 was submitted by Cless Alvein. It’s a Youtube video about Establishedmen.com, an internet website that brings wealthy older men together with hot young women. The proprietor of the website is a good-looking chick who is essentially a pimp. She kind of has a face that makes me want to punch her in the mouth. See if you agree with me.
I was hesitant to include this submission, because the beta rolls would be filled with millions of men if we included every guy who spends money on hookers (which is basically what the girls in this video are). But watch from 6:35 onward. You’ll get a glimpse at what a true paper alpha is — a conventionally alpha man (powerful, wealthy) who has no game and instead lavishes insipid compliments like “you’re gorgeous” and must spend tens of thousands of dollars over the first three dates to get any action. This is the all-too-often accurate face of the well-to-do man who solicits prostitutes — alpha in his dealings with men, beta in his dealings with women.
While it’s not necessarily beta to pay for sex, it is a leading indicator of betaness. If you are a wealthy man with money to burn, it makes sense to dump a wad of cash on a woman to pry open her legs with the minimal effort, but you should never comport yourself like a beta. Go ahead and buy the whore expensive jewelry if it gets you off, but always do so with an alpha demeanor. This ensures two things: One, if you lose your money you’ll have womanizing skills to fall back on, and, two, if you act like an alpha there is a good chance the whore might truly fall in love with you and not just your wallet.
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The voting:
Note: Reader “Nicker” had emailed me a video of a pasty-face, plump-lipped, fat guy expressing his undying love and devotion for his girlfriend who was away. It was, without a doubt, the MOST sickeningly beta thing I have seen or heard about in years, and that is saying a lot. I believe he would have run away with the Beta of the Year contest. Unfortunately, just days after I viewed the video, fat dude pulled it. If any reader happens to know what video I’m talking about and has it saved somewhere, please email it to me. What a shame that such beautiful betaness should be denied the world’s mockery.
Esteemed members of the Chateau, we have our first four-way Beta of the Month Battle. These “men”, and I use the term loosely, are doozies.
First, the winner of the August 2009 BOTM, by the biggest margin yet recorded for BOTM, was wealthy WASP (white anglo-saxon pud) caricature Topper, who graciously inquired of the European aristocrat boning his wife Tinsley to kindly cease violating her so he could work out his marital problems with the ho he loves.
Topper, old sport, the beta is strong in you. If you had done what I said and motorboated a stripper at Scores you’d have walked away from all this with your dignity intact.
September 2009 BOTM Candidate #1 was submitted by reader collegeboy. It’s a video submission featuring a beta, a bitch, a ring, and a slap. Intrigued? Watch the vid!
If you can’t see this youtube video, you can catch it at this link as well.
On the face of it, it’s just a simple proposal. Proposals themselves aren’t prima facie evidence of betaness, although they are leading indicators. So what pushes this publicly humiliated man into BOTM territory? Let us count the ways.
He proposed in front of a large public audience. Proposing should be regarded as a moment of surrender — of temporary enfeeblement — for a man. It should be done, quickly and stoically, in private. It should not be executed in front of thousands for the world to join you in your shame.
He proposed at a sporting event, a house of manly repute. It’s not only dorky to propose at sport games, but it is beta to sully such a sanctum with the pedestalization of pussy.
He sorta got down on one knee. For krissakes guys, if you’re gonna propose, DO NOT under any circumstance drop to one knee. It’s romantic in the movies when a vampire does it; in real life you are emasculating yourself. Subcommunicated body language matters.
In what was probably his biggest transgression of the alpha code, he couldn’t stop stroking her shoulder like she was a cat being petted. He was panicked she might say no, and shoulder stroking to build false comfort seemed to him, I’m sure, his only available option. Is there anything more repulsive than a man trying to manufacture closeness with an uncooperative woman through forced physical displays of tender affection? It’s on par with literally licking off the bird shit that landed on your girlfriend’s six inch heeled boots, or shitting on a plate and then smearing the turd all over your face in a ritualistic sacrifice to the gods to make your ex-girlfriend love you again.
After he got slapped, it looked like he cried. I would’ve shoved a hot dog in the bitch’s piehole.
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September 2009 BOTM Candidate #2 was submitted by longtime reader dave from hawaii. Before I write anything about this candidate, you need to go to his website and poke around. Be sure to click on the “Read the Blog” button at the bottom. Bring a barf bag.
You may wonder if a radical, facially hirsute feminist who hasn’t seen dick since her stepdad woke her up in the middle of the night is responsible for this website and the book ‘The Problem with Women… is Men’ that the website hawks. After all, there are pictures of pigs all over the place, and pithy quotes such as the following:
Cheating is a choice.
Women who don’t speak their minds… die.
Why porn is teaching your man bad habits in bed.
I wish I could tell you that a man-hating dyke wrote this. But the author is a man named Charles J. Orlando who has written for such ostensibly male-oriented mags like Men’s Health. Woofa. Is it a joke? Does this flapjack sacked simulacra of a man really believe what he writes, or is he playing an advanced seduction strategy of sneaky fucker feminist ego assuaging and alpha male undermining? You be the judge. Whatever his motives, there’s no denying he’s tainted himself with the mark of the beta.
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September 2009 BOTM Candidate #3 was submitted by reader chris. It’s a guy named Marc (note the fruity substitute of “c” for “k”) who wrote an article posted at the fembot website that rhymes with “facial pissing” titled “My experience with a prostitute – a feminist perspective“.
First, any man who uncoercedly calls himself a feminist has announced his resignation from the order of manhood. I don’t care if you’ve spent 1,000 tours in Iraq and scalped terrorists for shits and giggles, you lop of your nuts when you sign onto the feminist agenda. Please turn yourself into soylent beta. You aren’t moral, you aren’t enlightened, you aren’t open-minded. You’re just a laughable tool.
So what sets this guy apart from the battalions of betas who solicit hookers to unceremoniously spurt their tepid loads? Well, one, he spent an hour of his valuable time chatting up a woman and bringing her to his room not knowing she was a whore, and then feeling bad about wasting *her time*. And, two, after he found out she was a hooker, he paid her… TO TALK TO HIM.
Having already wasted an hour of her time, with her assuming I knew she was an escort (a term she says she prefers), I made a deal: while I was most certainly sexually attracted to her, my values wouldn’t allow me to actually pay to have sex with her. I would, however, pay for her time to listen to her story and learn something from a group of people I’ve spent to much learning about, yet never had never actually sat down and spoken with.
So there we sat, in my hotel room, and over Jack Daniels, talked about her life, choices and perspectives.
Your values are useless self-flagellating detritus, dude. No Being of Infinite Light hovering just above the cloud cover is giving you heavenly credits for denying yourself sex with a whore. Fuck when you can, because it is good.
You may think paying a whore to chew off your ear with her sad sack tales of woe would be the height of beta, but wait, there’s more.
At the end of our conversation, I gave her a hug and asked permission to write about her. She agreed and we exchanged contact information, so that when my vacation is over, I can do a more in depth interview and write about her.
My god below, there’s another David Alexander roaming the earth.
So what was the valuable life lesson Marc learned from this experience?
In the end, the sex work debate is immaterial because unless we take care of other problems and challenges – violence against women, healthcare for all people, and providing young women and men with the access to education they need, we are failing to provide women with the variety of choices they deserve in enhancing their own lives, and as a result, we have no rights to make a stand on the sex work industry, other than supporting them with the choices they make.
By the way, I am currently in Orlando for my last week of vacation. If there are awesome feminists in the UCF/Orlando area, I’d love to be shown around or have a drink. Let me know!
He won’t get any bites. Read the comments. Even the fembots think this guy is Too Beta To Nail.
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September 2009 BOTM Candidate #4 was submitted by reader entrepoon (great handle). It’s the touching story of the husband of a woman who falls in love with the serial killer Richard Ramirez, the infamously alpha “Night Stalker”. Does hubby demand she stop visiting the killer at his prison? Ah, if he did that he wouldn’t be up for BOTM.
Some of them write to him or visit him, including a 30-year-old woman from Washington. The woman, who did not want to be identified by The Chronicle, said most relatives don’t know about her relationship with Ramirez, although her disapproving husband does.
She said she started writing to the Night Stalker – a habit that sometimes exceeded 20 letters a week and frequent visits – because she was fascinated with his case.
20 letters a week and frequent visitations, some of them likely conjugal. Her “disapproving” husband knows about her “relationship” with Ramirez. Aaaaand, he does… nothing? He just allows it to go on and on? Does a beta shit in his pants?
For laughs, here’s another quote from the very typical killer-loving woman:
“He is good looking and I loved his big hands,” she said of Ramirez. “The thrill of danger of going up to a state penitentiary made it all worth it because to me it was like a dream come true to face one of the world’s most feared men.
“Like my mom used to say, you can love someone but you don’t have to like them,” she says.
We’ve got a DefCunt 1 gina tingle alert. The second quote is a perfect distillation of the animal female soul. A slight re-wording for clarity: “You can love someone especially if you don’t like them.” The news is out — chicks love unlikeable assholes with big, flesh ripping hands.
Take-home lesson: If your wife is consorting with a serial killer, get your finances in order, get a lawyer, compile evidence, and kick the filthy bitch to the curb. Leave your kicking foot hanging in mid-air for a second for dramatic flair. That’s the kind of thing sweet memories are made of.
The crack team of Chateau Beta of the Month researchers took a couple weeks off, so the August 2009 BOTM is tardy. Or fashionably late, if you prefer the reframe.
The winner of the July 2009 BOTM, by a wide margin, was Travis D’arby, the SWPL self-parody who can’t figure out why his wife has so many male Facebook friends, and why she won’t accept his friend invitation. She also has the gall to tell him, when he confronts her with the evidence, to keep his beta nose out of her business. They of course talk it out over dinner like the sophisticated urbane couple they are and come to some sort of closure involving “love and understanding” which, in chick language, translates as “the wife continues fucking around on her pathetic husband while he respects her privacy to fuck around on him.”
Congratulations, Travis, your balls have now been shipped to the nearest Ripley’s Believe It Or Not museum for display. Electron microscope required for viewing. And you can stop bobbing your head in the car to “It’s Raining Men”.
August 2009 BOTM Candidate #1 was submitted by reader Billy Blaze and tells the story of a high society blueblood who proves that wealth and social status aren’t enough to shield a man from collapsing into a beta black hole of his own making.
Topper was in Florida for the wedding of one of his longtime moneyed bros. Tinsley, the little trollop, was supposed to join him later at the rehearsal dinner and bring shoes for him to wear. That’s where the trouble started.
In case it isn’t clear, Topper is the man, Tinsley is his wife. You’ve gotta love the faggy and princessy names the upper class gives to their kids. Just as mockable as ghetto and hillbilly names.
Anyhow, Tinsley texted Topper (sounds like the name of a chick flic) to inform him she couldn’t make it to the rehearsal dinner. That’s because Tinsley was busy getting banged out by a European aristotrash.
Tinsley had run off to get boned by a German aristocrat/prince named Casimir Wittgenstein-Sayn, news Topper shared with some of the couple’s friends.
Topper e-mailed his friends to explain: “I know I have involved you guys in our problems and that was wrong. Tinsley is at fault of course but Casi [sic] never gave her a chance to breathe even when I asked him to give us space. He was manipulative and overbearing. I love my wife and we are going to do what we can to salvage this marriage.”
Did you get that? Topper discovers his wife’s infidelity and the guy she’s doing it with, and responds in a most manly fashion by kindly asking the good European gentleman to refrain for a time from drilling Tinsley so that he can work on his marriage, i.e. beg her to come back and give him a reason to go on living.
Topper’s plans for the future include, you guessed it, rushing to forgive his cheap whore of a wife and living out his lonely days in a self-imposed torment of soulripping introspection.
He’s become a full-time smoker. He’s lost weight. He wakes up at precisely 3:25 every morning and plays over and over the reality show his life became. Still, he hasn’t entirely abandoned the idea that she’ll come back. “I love my wife” is all he’ll tell me.
Topper, old sport, you’ve got money, status and youth. Admit that your wife is a filthy whore, stop thinking about her, go to Scores and get yourself a hot stripper for some fun. Whatever you do, don’t cry about your wife to her. Cause she ain’t coming back, although if she catches news of you boffing a stripper she might consider it.
******
August 2009 BOTM Candidate #2 was submitted by Willard Libby. It’s an article about a supremely emasculated man’s wife who started a blog not five months into their marriage to chronicle her husband’s annoying habits. Or, in words this blog’s readers could better appreciate, to utterly humiliate him in public. You can see her blog here.
For his part, [Tiffanie] Wong’s husband, WPIX-TV reporter Mark Joyella, sees the humor in his wife’s blog and has no problem with the outside world knowing of his foibles.
“To me, it’s kind of a tribute to all husbands,” said Joyella, 43, who works for the weekend show “Toni On! New York.”
“I’m sure all husbands have their own quirks.”
Some of Joyella’s most annoying habits, according to his wife’s blog, include his love of fart jokes, the fact he wears the same zip-up green sweater in every family photograph and his inability to figure out the TV remote.
“I’ll ask him to record a show for me and it ends up being Univision or something,” Wong said.
“Have you seen that remote?” Joyella countered. “It has like 50 buttons on it.”
Wong (notice she didn’t take his name) says she loves her husband, but how much longer can she go on feeling love for a man she castrates every day in front of an anonymous public audience cheering on her every revelation? Mark Joyella, for his part, seems like a happy-go-lucky goofball who’s masochistically enjoying the infamy, but he should be careful; aloofness will only buy him so much time. Eventually, a wife who doesn’t respect you enough to keep your dirty laundry private will begin loathing your betaness. Her gina tingles will roam in search of stronger cock antennae.
******
August 2009 BOTM Candidate #3 was submitted by reader West Coast Life. It’s about Sheryl Weinstein, the married woman who had a yearlong affair with Ponzi King Bernie Madoff sixteen years ago. She has just written an opportunistic book about her time as Madoff’s mistress, and in the interview linked to she describes how her husband reacted to her book.
How have your husband and son reacted to the book?
Well, my husband read most of the book. My son hasn’t read it, but he has been very loving and very, very supportive. My husband has also been supportive. It’s something that happened 16 years ago. [My marriage] was a 21-year relationship; the affair lasted about a year or a year and a half. [So] it wasn’t like, “Surprise, I’ve been having an affair for 20 years.” It was more like, “Surprise, I had an affair 15 or 16 years ago.” We’ve really worked hard on our marriage since then, and things have come around, but this really terrible thing happened to us.
Note the sleight of sophistry this cunt is attempting. Her son could despise her, but I’m sure she’s sufficiently self-deluded to believe he’s “very loving and very, very supportive”. And her husband is supportive? Either he’s prudently and cynically encouraging the success of his cheating wife’s book to restock the family’s lost finances, or he’s a beta so thoroughly beaten down in spirit that his testicularly shriveled reflex is to forgive and “support” the wrinkled, over-makeupped skank married to him. Either way, he comes off like a pathetic choad, assuming his wife isn’t lying.
That’s a big assumption. Let’s discuss that word “support”. Has any word in the English language been more misused and abused by women? It’s the go-to word whenever guilt pokes its ugly head into the hollowed crevice carved in the rotten soul of a cheating whore. The word sickens me. Almost always when you hear it spoken by someone you can be assured you are getting sprayed on by the chunky vomit of a pity pimp, an energy vampire, or a blame-shifting slut. The next time you hear someone use the word, call them out on it.
“What exactly do you mean by “support”? No one’s calling you out on your bullshit?”
And then you’ve gotta appreciate the shameless refusal to accept accountability shown by the whore:
We’ve really worked hard on our marriage since then, and things have come around, but this really terrible thing happened to us.
“You see, honey, that whole unpleasantness of Madoff’s dick in my pussy was a terrible thing that happened to us. Just some nebulous cosmic force that alighted upon our happy family for which I bear no responsiblity, and for which you are likely equally responsible anyhow. So let’s try and work through it, and with enough hard work on your part in marriage counseling I might see my way to forgiving you.”
Choice cut cunt, here, folks. Brazenly cunty. The dark side of the cunt.
Why did Weinstein write the book?
This must have been a very painful book for you to write. Why did you decide to do it?
The first part was that the investment decisions in my family were my responsibility, so I felt this tremendous guilt and responsibility about what had happened. My motivation was to try to make things better as much as I can, and that sort of meant putting myself out there.
Cha-ching! Is anyone buying her shit? Her husband? When your wife cheats, you kick her out. End of story. Any other course of action that doesn’t involve wicked vengeance will brand you with the badge of the beta for the rest of your life. Now if only the divorce laws would catch up to this eminently fair and just outlook.
******
The voting:
PS: Although it was a popular submission, I didn’t include the guy forced to stand on a DC Metro street corner by his wife and wear a placard confessing his infidelity because it was later revealed to be a local radio station prank.
I had to slog through a lot of reader submissions to choose two candidates for the July 2009 BOTM. How much am I getting paid for this again?
First, the winner of the June 2009 BOTM was Ryan Stokes, the Australian billionaire media heir who hitched himself to a world class cunt and couldn’t find the inner strength to dump her after she repeatedly publicly humiliated him with her sluttastic antics and was eventually caught in the badboy lair of an ex-con biker, likely getting rogered up her tight upper crust anus so hard that she shat impacted semen bricks for weeks.
Congratulations Mr. Stokes. You edged out Rod Dreher and cuntrag’s ex-Italiano eunuchio betaboy kitchen servant Vincent. That’s some tough competition you were up against. Take a bow… deeply.
July 2009 BOTM Candidate #1 was submitted by third world immigration and population replacement enthusiast Seeking Alpha. It’s a Salon article written in sickeningly SWPL navel-gazing fashion by Travis D’arby, a beta so extraordinarily obtuse that he couldn’t put two and two together when his wife (wife!) refused to friend him on Facebook.
I joined the 21st Century a few weeks ago and signed up for Facebook. While the Facebook software loaded up the names of friends it found in my AOL inbox, one in particular surprised me: my wife’s. Hers was an invitation only page so I sent her a friends request.
He stumbles across his wife’s *invitation only* FB page. This should have been a big fat red flag, but no, our intrepid anti-hero soldiers on in self-delusion.
Days passed without a reply until I confronted her about it one day while she checked her e-mail.
“So I’m good enough to marry but not good enough to be your Facebook friend?”
“I never check my Facebook page.”
I playfully took the mouse and clicked through several pages of spam until I spotted my Facebook request.
“Well, you can do it now. It’ll only take a second.”
She gave me that “don’t tell me what to do” look only a wife can deliver then promised to get around to it later.
I waited a few more days and still nothing. At first, I didn’t think much of it. She will go days without putting her laundry up until I get seeing a freshly laundered basket of clothes on the kitchen table and put her unmentionables away myself. Procrastinating in regards to my friends request seemed perfectly predictable.
Here’s a critical difference between alphas and betas: Alphas are always one step ahead of their women; betas are oblivious to the clues beaning them right between the eyes.
But last week I decided to have a little fun at her expense. I typed “cute guy” into Google Images and created a fake Facebook profile for my chosen hunk. While my wife hogged the desktop, I sent her a friend request via my laptop. Guess what? Within minutes, she accepted my request!
While I snooped around her Facebook page, a few peculiarities caught my eye. First, no wedding pictures nor mention of her marital status. And secondly, all her Facebook friends were cute guys!
Is it me, or does this guy sound happy that his wife’s Facebook lovers are cute?
When I foolishly asked her why all of her friends had Y chromosomes, I naturally got my ass handed to me for sticking my nose in places it did not belong.
Any reader of my blog knows by now, that once a man hears this from his woman, it’s time to tell her to hit the bricks. She’s already boffing someone else. Privacy concerns take a back seat to suspicions of infidelity. D’arby writes like a reasonably intelligent guy. Why couldn’t he see what was right in front of his nose? Which brings me to…
Maxim #59: High IQ is no inoculation against beta delusion. If anything, high IQ obstructs clear thinking about women’s nature.
I have yet to broach this topic again and am debating my next move. Personally I don’t mind if she wants a little action on the side; it’s the being lied to that I find unacceptable. She was still a virgin when we met so I imagine a little sexual curiosity about other guys is perfectly natural.
Is it possible for a man to be more beta than George Sodini? Travis D’arby may have managed it. “Debating [his] next move”? This is the kind of mincing leftwing puke who gets mugged at gunpoint and wonders if he deserved it. Oh, but he hates being lied to. That makes the “action on the side” (such a pretty little euphemism; let’s tidy it up some more: “your wife is getting jackhammered by a roundtable of rock hard cocks and taking steaming loads to her face which drip insouciantly off her eyelashes”) totally acceptable. Keep telling yourself that, D’arby ol boy. Or should I call you D’cuckold?
D’cuckold then goes on a journey of ego salving verbal vomit as he proudly attempts to rationalize his wife’s whoring by calling for the monogamous, patriarchal institutions of the West to cede to the bright new future of polyamory. Really, you can’t make this shit up. By the way, you ever notice how advocates of the polyamorous lifestyle — you know, the guys who claim they’re OK with their wives and girlfriends fucking around — are usually fat and ugly middle-aged weirdoes or pantywaist pussboys like D’arby? I guess when human nature is too awful to bear, and your whole life is a monument to getting your teeth kicked in by reality, your autonomic reflex is to pretend you enjoy having a serpentine turd extruded into your mouth.
D’arby included a postscript to his soul searching:
My wife and I did come to an understanding of sorts last night. She belatedly apologized for snapping at me while I told her it was alright, that she no longer had to hide anything from me and that love and understanding had replaced shame and guilt as the zeitgeist of our time.
Now if only I could get her to call it something other than fish food . . .
This is quality entertainment, folks. Quality. Any further commentary would only distract from the coda to this man’s unbearable betaness of being.
***
July 2009 BOTM Candidate #2 was submitted by Puma. It’s about a man (and I use the term loosely) who writes to a newspaper columnist for advice (big mistake) about his whore wife’s cheating and her moment of candor where she confessed that she sexed up her lover in ways her husband can only dream she’d do to him. I’ll just go ahead and quote the whole letter. It’s comedy gold.
Dear Amy: Some years ago I caught my wife having an affair that had been going on for more than a year.
See: Maxim #59.
Desperate to save our marriage, she agreed to answer my questions and give me all the details I asked about.
One of the biggest improvements game can make to a man’s life is to help him avoid the worst beta pitfalls. A man needs to stop digging before he can start building. One of those pitfalls is the urge so many men have to find out what went wrong, to ASK ENDLESS QUESTIONS of their exes or emotionally distant wives, as if this inherently selfish emo-catharsis is somehow magically going to re-tingle their women’s cold, dry ginas.
It’s funny how every goddamn couples and marriage therapist out there recommends MORE COMMUNICATION from the man to fix failing relationships, when doing just the opposite would be more effective at rekindling the romance. There is no quicker way than MORE COMMUNICATION to confirm a woman’s feelings of disgust for a man, and to strip him of the last vestiges of his attractiveness. MORE COMMUNICATION is the war cry of the beta, the limpdicked Playdoh spear thrust wobbly at ancient enemy forces too vast and grotesque and mysterious for his tender manpuppy mind to fathom. A man would be better off keeping his trap shut and grunting one word syllables to his estranged wife. Let her fill in the blanks. I’d bet my method — One Word Game — would save more marriages than the advice handed down by the entire published oeuvre of the American Psychological Association.
We’ve gotten past all that now, and in fact our marriage is probably stronger than it was.
I bet it isn’t!
But one thing still bothers me: She admitted to performing certain intimate acts with him that she had previously refused to even talk about doing with me.
You can see it coming like a freight train. This “one thing” that bothers him is the essence of the matter. When a woman loves a man, she will do anything for him in bed. Anything, and everything. If she is not doing these things with you when you have evidence by her own words that she has done these things with other men, she doesn’t love you. She doesn’t love you like the way she loves the memories of the lovers she fucked while you slept alone in your marital bed. She may tell you she loves you, but those are just words. Female words. And female words are worth less than the air their sound waves travel through. Female actions, on the other hand, are worth all the knowledge in the universe.
She has never been able to explain why. She says, “Well I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I guess I got caught up in the moment.” And, “I wish I hadn’t! I shouldn’t have! I didn’t particularly enjoy it! I just acted without thinking!”
I understand from talking to others that this as a fairly common phenomenon in affairs.
You don’t say!
Can you enlighten me as to why?
An honest therapist or advice columnist would say: “You’re a beta. You don’t turn her on. You need to stop being a beta.” We’ll see below what this advice columnist (a woman) says to him.
Why would a woman do intimate things for a lover that she has refused to do with her husband?
Curious Husband
Have a seat, son. Let me explain to you the mystery of the gina tingle.
Here’s the advice he got:
Dear Husband: When two people are having an affair, they’re never sitting at the kitchen table with a pile of bills, trying to figure out how to make the payment on their minivan. They don’t have to take the dog to the vet for his shots.
This freedom leads people to do all sorts of things they wouldn’t normally do.
Let’s stipulate that affairs are tempting and fascinating, at least in part, because people engaged in them move outside the confines of what they see as the norm of their daily lives.
Your wife did these things for the same reason that men having affairs send flowers and steamy notes and fly off to Buenos Aires to meet their lovers — but don’t do these things for their wives.
You’ve talked about this, which is good.
The only talking that would have done any good is him telling her to slurp his knob or pack her bags.
You may influence your wife by moving out of your own comfort zone and romancing her the way a lover would.
I can’t believe this bitch gets paid to write this shit. As Puma wrote in his submission, “Begging for sloppy seconds from your own goddamned wife. Brilliant!” The entire counseling industry is smoke and mirrors designed to keep the betas running on their hamster wheels while their cheating wives are free to pursue “action on the side”.
This could prompt both of you to begin a welcome new phase of your marriage.
The phase where she waits a few months for things to blow over before boffing the street vendor?
