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Archive for the ‘Beta’ Category

We are familiar with the hoverhand, a classic tell of beta maleness. (The hoverhand’s opposite is the hineyhand.) Introducing another beta male tell: The baby monkey grasp.

Mr. Bang Tow Jam is hanging on for dear life. She might slip away any moment.

I hope I don’t need to explain why fingertip clutching at various body parts on your girlfriend that aren’t her hands, tits or ass is horribly beta. You look like a circus elephant following mama around. The impression this leaves is one of fearing that your girl will bolt as soon as your grip slips loose. Which she probably will do, and by rights should do.

Note: I have seen plenty of white men mimic the baby monkey grasp too, and it’s always nauseating to behold. Barring exceptional circumstances, mate guarding is inherently beta, and all the more so when the mate guarder’s technique is so oleaginous.

The best remedy is to stop grasping; your beloved will respect you a lot more if you have the self-confidence to sit in the row ahead of her without reminding her of your viking warrior presence by latching onto her toes. Don’t worry, she won’t suck some guy’s cock when you’re not holding her foot, but she may suck some guy’s cock later when her foot is finally free of your clammy pincers.

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The Pathetic Creature

In this video, John Carmack, inventor of the first person shooter, unloads the BFG in the pinched face of a schoolmarm SJW.

A little background on the SJW:

Typical. Carmack accomplishes more before breakfast than this snout-nosed SJW has done in her lifetime.

Here’s the question to the studio audience:

Who’s the more pathetic creature?

– The insipid, hypocritical SJW, or

– The suckup, betaboy lapdog applauding (0:20-0:24) the SJW’s brave blow for gender justice?

No poll is necessary. I already know how most would answer. There’s something particularly grating about a self-castrating manlet propping the delusions of a funky cold medusa. We can laugh at the deluded naked king, but feel hate toward the cowards aiding and abetting the king’s delusion.

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Alpha Or Beta Male?

Sandals. White tube socks. Is that a fanny pack? His fashion sense is clearly beta.

But then there’s his body language. Leg up, the fulcrum of his maleness insolently displayed under her nose. If this were a gif I bet we’d see him swinging his pelvis into her. A fat nerd in the distance looks on, horror-stricken.

Alpha or beta male? Let me put it this way: If I wanted a solid wingman, and my choices were 1. a dapper fellow stylishly appointed and subtly accoutered to catch the inquisitive female eye, but shy and liable to spend the night leaning against the wall for support, or 2. tube sock guy fearlessly projecting his male sexual entitlement, I’m taking tube sock guy, every time.

Boldness beats style, and it’s no contest. Why? Because a nerd with a ZEROFUCKSGIVEN attitude can be molded into something great. But a retiring fop who waits for women to approach him has to make an attitude adjustment before he can be great. The ALPHA ATTITUDE is the bedrock of tight game. It’s a lot easier to improve a man’s wardrobe than it is to improve his attitude, so rock out with your socks and cock out, Package Delivery Man, you’ve got that special something chicks dig.

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I dare you to watch this all the way through without feeling at least a small gurgle of nausea.

Feminism For Bros (level 105) is a PSA by a group called “Centre for Gender Advocacy”, based in Montreal, associated with something called The Consensual Collective. I imagine corporate headquarters is a coffeehouse office where two manlets and a chubby cunt get together to project their confused sexuality and self-loathing onto normal people. The video shows a couple, (mostly the vaguely male hipster), asking for verbal consent at each step of foreplay. Unedited footage taken five years into the future shows him asking her if he may briefly appear naked in front of his now-wife while he dresses in the morning. She asks if she may shove her prized buttplug up his rectum. He assents.

“Can I kiss you?” “Can I put my hand here?” “Can I take your shirt off?”

Bzzt! Rebuffed! Her shirt stays on. They go back to loud kissing that sounds like an octopus pulling its tentacles off wet glass.

“Can I kiss your neck?” “Can I take off your shirt?”

This time he gets the green light. Not really sure what difference waiting ten seconds to approve his shirt-removal request made for the girl.

“Can I kiss you… there?”

He points to her sternum, that well-known erogenous zone on women.

“Can I go down on you?”

Of course, this faggot opts to mash his face in her pussy before banging her. OF COURSE. Pre-sex cunnilingus is 99% of times a huge beta male tell.

“CONSENT IS FUN”

No it’s not when it has to be verbalized every five seconds in a cloud of gnawing fear that a presumptuous ear nibble could lead to a rape accusation.

“CONSENT IS SEXY”

No it’s not, and telling yourself that won’t make it so.

“CONSENT IS SAFE”

Pretty sure gonorrhea is transmissible with or without consent. And there’s no way this manlet is overpowering the girl.

“CUTV”

So close.

I hope this video was a parody, because if not, then the people involved with this shit, or people who would seriously entertain its message, are down with the sickness that has no cure.

Coitus interruptus, meet passion interruptus. I can’t think of much that would kill the mood faster than asking for permission to escalate foreplay and slip the tip in. A barrage of mewling inquiries, however smokily whispered, makes whiskey dick seem like the pinnacle of bedroom prowess. Fatrelle whipping out his micropeen and flicking it to life with his porky pinky would be less likely to spoil the moment than a guy following BRO FEMINISM verbal consent guidelines.

Anyone who’s been with non-psychotic non-feminist girls (or, if you’re a woman, with men who aren’t afraid of their penes) knows how this works: The heat of the moment carries both of you forward through sexual escalation, wordlessly (unless you’re into actual dirty talk), clothes flying everywhere, hands exploring, mouths traveling great expanses of flesh, until panties are tugged off and sex ushers a symphony of moans. Consent is implied, usually, by the girl not saying “no” or pushing herself off the man.

This is what normal human beings whose brains weren’t hijacked by parasites do. As a female commenter at Total Frat Move put it:

As a girl, if a guy can’t take at least some control, it’s a turn off. If a girl doesn’t want sex then she will say so. If I want you, you’ll be able to tell. This was ridiculous.

Most feminist agitprop amounts to unattractive or psychologically defective women running from that scary and confusing female desire to submit to a dominating man, and grappling with those feelings that remind them of their vulnerable femaleness by neutering any man foolish enough to pursue them. A man who obeys feminist pique is a man who is never getting laid, and that’s the point. This stuff helps filter out weak betas who are too insecure to give women what they really want: A sexually entitled man who doesn’t second-guess his allure.

Males who are into this game are poseurs angling for broken snatch, genuine androgynous misfits play-acting revenge fantasies against the jocks who flipped their lunch trays, or sexually parched spergs who can’t read nonverbal arousal cues.

ps The reader who sent this clip wrote, “I love America, but I’m moving.” This sentiment must be shared by more men every day who watch this freak parade of putrescence shamble over the remnants of a once vital culture.

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Well-meaning tradcons with white knight complexes like Charles Murray and Ross Douthat wonder why more men aren’t MANNING UP and getting married. They say it’s because too many men are jobless.

Maybe. But there’s another, less Hivemind-hospitable explanation for the marriage dearth: Too many women are fat. Groom looks like he just found out he’s the designated prison bitch.

***

Commenter negro jesus writes,

True or not, I read that one of the original purposes of the best man was to privately ask the groom just before the wedding, “Do you REALLY want to do this??” If the groom said no, the best man would stand in front of the crowd and announce that the wedding was off. That’s what this poor bastard needed.

So, if true, the best man acted as sort of an alpha male wingman who would cockblock an ominous nuptial, but not before getting the green light from the gloomy groom. Outstanding. The West could learn some lessons from its disappearing traditions.

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In big and small ways, social science studies have a habit of confirming many CH precepts. The latest finds that expensive diamond engagement rings and expensive wedding ceremonies are inversely associated with marriage duration.

This study was done by professors from Emory University. They found that U.S. adults who spent large amounts of money on engagement rings and/or their weddings were more likely to end up divorced!

According to the research, men who spent $2,000 to $4,000 were 1.3 times more likely to end up divorced than men who spent $500 to $2,000.

And when it comes to weddings, if you have a wedding that costs more than $20,000, you’re more likely to end up in “Splitsville!”

The average cost of a wedding in the U.S. is $30,000, according to “The Knot.”

Expensive rings and weddings are classic provider beta male game. And, as science is showing and the Chateau has warned, beta male game is ultimately self-defeating. Women don’t fall in love with a wallet; they fall in love with a man. They don’t desire a mate guarder who has to pay fidelity money; they desire a self-assured jerkboy who expects love free of charge.

And if you’re dating a princess who demands a big ring or ostentatious wedding, my advice is simple: Run. Don’t look back. The next day, you can admire the bulge of your full bank account and your spared dignity. I just saved you from hitching yourself to a woman who couldn’t really love you without a large gift bag included in the deal.

What studies like this one uncover is a bidirectional sexual market feedback loop: On one vector, you have a weak man who feels it necessary to pay for love and supplicate to his fiancee’s gaudy selfishness. On the other vector, you have an unenthusiastic woman who knows she is settling for a less desirable man in a trade-off between exciting sexiness and boring security, and who therefore feels empowered to make her sloppy second beta pay tribute to her in Damegeld. Where these two vectors meet, relationship exactness and complementarity trump love, and subcurrents of divorce are never far from cresting the polished dinner party surface.

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If all you had to go on was a couple’s photo together, could you predict the man’s romantic future? Exhibit Gay:

Men made aware of the sexual market undercurrent propelling each person through superficially detached life events woven into a unified whole by the prime directive could glance at this photo and know in an instant, based on nothing but body language cues, the fate of this happy couple.

There is, of course, the obvious. Mixed-race couples tend to fair poorer than same-race couples. And he looks forty years older than her.

But beyond those black and white monochromatic signatures, there are almost equally telling giveaways in his and her body postures that predict their marital fortune. He grasps her with fearful possessiveness. He leans into her like a human Pisa tower. Her smile is all show, no glow. Her dead eyes reveal her emotional distance. Worse, and most humorously, her head has craned away from his head at an angle that precisely mirrors his neck crick. She checked out of this lovely scene long before the camera flashed.

Can you predict his romantic future from this photo? Take a guess before reading further.

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She willingly stayed married to him for 20 minutes after her green card cleared.

Beta males need to learn game and to hear non-nonsense talk about the differing nature of the sexes so that they can spot the clues early in a relationship or even during a first date that a woman isn’t as enamored of them as they are of her. This bracing acceptance of reality would save them time, energy, money, and heartache, and most crucially save them the accumulating bitterness that is inevitably projected onto future women who may be good for them.

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