How To Tell If You Exude Alphaness Or Betatude

Here’s a simple social experiment necessitating few input variables other than a public venue and a street hustler to determine if you, or other men you can observe, exude alphaness or betatude.

Those carnival barkers working for non-profits like Greenpeaceout or Abortion, Yay! are useful proxies of a man’s SMV. Try this: the next time you pass by one or more of these millennial hippies holding clipboards and pamphlets near subway entrances, bus stops, or along busy sidewalks, take note of their reaction to you.

Do they accost you to pitch their dreck? You exude betatude.

Do they let you walk by unbothered? You exude alphaness.

Pretty cut and dry, if I must say. And if the NGO urchins begging for donations let you pass unmolested with a look of apprehension and even fear in their eyes, your alphaness may be off the charts. If, on the other hand, they rush right into your face and press their case for an uncomfortably long time as you stutter and stammer to get away, your betatude is bad enough to require a PUA’s intervention.

In short, look like a badboy who doesn’t suffer bullshit gladly, and you are likely an alpha who enjoys plenty of female attention. Look like a niceguy who takes shit from everyone, and you are likely a beta balls-deep in the GoFap Zone.

If you want to gauge your progress from invisible beta herb to irresistible alpha chad, keep track of the reactions you get from volunteer streetside beggars. You want to unlock the achievement level in which all those shitlib cause du jour curs are retreating from your arrival like the fucking Red Sea parting before Moses.

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Prof. Woland writes,

I was once approached by a SPLC fundraiser while getting out of my car at whole foods (where else?). He asked me if I knew who they were and tried to rope me into some guilt trip social justice tripe. I stopped and thought for a second then answered back that they were an anti-white organization. His face contorted like he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He was shocked. When I came out of the store 5 minutes later there was not a trace of him.

Beautiful. People think that these scumsucking anti-White leftoid organizations like the $PLC are so fully converged with the Weltanshauung that they are nigh impregnable to attack from the righteous, but the reality is that they are powerful because they’ve never experienced REAL PUSHBACK. The anti-White Left has been so protected and coddled by the media hate machine that they have no idea there are people out there who KNOW THE SCORE about them. So when they get hit with an accusation of anti-White bigotry, they fold like cheap lawn chairs. Because they know it’s true.

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Skinnyfat Shitlib Meets Hardened Boer

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Christcuckery: “I need a young black man”

You are about to enter another delusion, a delusion not only of religion and guilt but of race. A journey into a wacky cult of deracination. Next stop, the Christcuck Zone!

Please take a seat, you’ll find a vomit bag in the pocket in front of you. Trust us, you’ll need it. You won’t be able to un-see the contents of this video. It will haunt you for the rest of your life, like an evil clown nightmare. But your participation is necessary, to BEAR WITNESS to the abject degeneration of White Christianity.

Notice something besides the overarching virtue whoring evident in this Semen on the Mount? Our tawdry televangelist never asked for the black guy’s name. Not once, in the whole time our divine dindu was up there on stage being used as a prop to fluff Preacher Pussyhat’s sanctimonious ego. He said, “I need a young black man”. Not, “What’s your name?” Not even, “How are you today?” Just, “I need a young black man.”

Really, that says it all about Christcuckery. These fawning phaggots don’t actually give a shit about blacks. They merely want to use them as quickly discarded tokens to morally preen before their audience of equally empty-headed sanctimony signalers who for some godforsaken reason nurse a weird shame about living a decent life in their 98% White earthly utopias.

“I need a young black man”

….to make me feel good about myself
….to manufacture a glowing self-perception of my GoodWhiteness
….to guilt-trip other Whites into coughing up bennies for the MegaChurch coffers
….to masturbate furiously while watching my wife and her buck fucker
….to alleviate the searing humiliation of raising my wife’s son
….to pick my cult followers clean
….to sit still on stage for ten minutes to prove all those Very Bad, No Good, Awful BadThinking BadWhites wrong about race differences

The charade gets even more ridiculous. Pastor PutItInMyAss tells Saint Souvenir that he is valuable and “society hasn’t told you that”. Color me shocked that a self-abasing White cuck uses the same vapid platitudes as dumbfuck feminists.

8:53 — “We bros!”

Hilariously nauseating. If “I NEED A YOUNG BLACK MAN” is the Christcuck petition, “WE BROS!” is the Christcuck atonement. Redemption is achieved by adopting a few Africans until your biological kids need twenty years of therapy.

If this is the future of White America, they deserve their overrun by barbarian hordes. Nothing worth saving here, move along.

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Beta Male Body Language: The Spin-Check-Merge

A mixed group enters a room. As they walk through the door, the lead man spins around on his heels anxiously, ostensibly to check that the rest of his friends aren’t far behind. He clumsily rights himself forward-facing after he’s quickly scanned and accounted for everyone, and then makes half-step stuttering retreats backwards until he’s aligned at the group’s side, rather than at their front.

This subconscious body language is a classic tell that the man displaying it is, in his soul, a subordinate beta male. The “spin-check-relief-merge into middle of pack” dance of discomfort reveals the beta male’s aversion to leading his group, even leading by accident of spontaneous entryway coordination. The beta male is constitutionally uncomfortable with leadership, real or symbolic. He hates the idea of being at the front, clearing the way for his team to follow behind him, taking responsibility for their destination. He hates it so much that a tiny, temporary, positional cue that would cast him as the de facto leader fills him with unease, and he looks for ways to fall back into pack obscurity.

No man respects this maneuver, and no woman is aroused by it. They can’t verbalize their disgust, but they’ll feel it in their bone zones. So the alpha male Game lesson for today is this: don’t spin-check when your group falls behind you. Embrace the leadership role, however fleeting, and use it to demonstrate to any lovely minxes who might be watching that you’re a ZFG man with a plan, no time to flim flam, and the rest of them can board your jerkboy tram or scram.

Every cutie adores a self-possessed man who doesn’t act like any second his squad might bolt on him. The alpha male never worries about that; instead, his squad worries their alpha male may bolt on them. And that makes all the difference.

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tomjones comments,

A mixed group enters a room. As they walk through the door, the lead man looks behind him, picks the hottest chick, takes her the men’s bathroom, offers her a line of coke, she snorts it and he tears the pussy up.

The alpha male.

Visualization is next to penetration.

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Shitlib Face Of The Century

Felix Engelhardt is a huge open borders cucked-up lefty in German politics. But really, the story here is that face, which may be the consummate shitlib physiognomy, a perfect facial palimpsest revealing the libfruit worldview underneath. The chinless androgyny, the smug grin, the manletry, the skin pallor which hasn’t seen sun in years, the happy merchant hand clasp….it’s all there in a soyfed shitlib package that cries out for a punch.

I don’t know about you but my disgust threshold is triggered. This guy makes Pajamaboy, Matty Iglesias and Dylan Mathews looks like milk-chugging Chads.

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Shitlib Vs Shitlord

These two photos come from a news story that was reported way back during Trump’s 2015-2016 historic anti-establishment campaign for President. At a Trump street protest in which a road was being blocked by establishment tools, a driver slowly drove through the crowd, pushing them aside. A photographer for a local shitlib rag snapped the driver’s face just as he was ramming the crowd of SJWs.

Can you guess which one is the shitlib, and which one the shitlord?

This shouldn’t be hard. Shitlibs are attracted to chaos, disorder, trash. Sometimes literal trash, as we see above. The photographer who wrote the story about the driver running over protestors is pictured during a different time posing before a trash can, making the gayest possible gayface imaginable. Squeee!, as Scalzi might exclaim.

Driver Hate, meanwhile, will not take a break. That’s the look of resolute disgust, a man on a mission to cleanse the world of filth and scum.

Physiognomy is real.

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Anti-Game

Scene:

A beta, Adam, tries to be funny and sympathize with the bluehair feminists he likely sees as his only romantic outlet.

Adam recruits a sad, sleepy emoji to punctuate his male feminist cred.

One of those weirdo feminist girls, Alysse, rhetorically pats Adam on the head and sends him to bed with no promise of sex.

Artistic flourishes:

“Aw” = interjectional castration

“Feel empowered!” = “you can do it, little boy!”

“(Hint: it’s equal rights. ^_^)” = no matter how feminist-y the male feminist struggles to become, the grrlpower targets of his smarmy sympathy will feel indescribably repulsed by his utter lack of sexual magnetism and finish him off with a barely-concealed nastiness (usually involving some recapitulation of banal feminist talking points).

Anti-Game is the romance-killer. It’s worse than No-Game because it actively reduces a man’s chances to get the lay. A No-Game-having herb can stumble into a lay despite himself,  but the Anti-Game-having adams actually make their prospects worse whenever they put forth an effort.

Here’s what the above Anti-Game looks like when converted to Game:

Adam: “This is why the patriarchy gets so much done at night.”

Alysse: “um wow? what’s that supposed to mean?”

Adam: “that the patriarchy are secretly vampires.”

Alysse: *SPLOOGE*

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