Fatter, Wimpier, More Pathetic

Behold your modern White man of the West. Honored descendant of great warriors:

…brilliant thinkers:

… and sturdy yeomen:

Fatter, wimpier, more pathetic. Bequeathed a noble heritage that perhaps surpasses every other culture’s heritage come before or since, the modern Western White man disgraces his forebears in all manner, by every measure. His disgrace and capitulation to pampered weakness is so complete, the great men of his lineage would scarcely recognize him as human, let alone as a child of their righteous loins.

He submits to the raping of his countries’ largesse by invading foreigners and citizen subversives. He excuses the actions of those who would sooner wipe him from the face of the earth, and whips himself into a fervid masochistic spectacle for imagined sins purged on the altar of social standing. He spits on his brothers for a pittance and he salts the soil from which his dwindling posterity must grow. He amuses himself with parlor games and slick sophistry, while he hypocritically runs from the very heart of his words to outpost gardens that shelter his sermonizing from scrutiny. He has let his women run wild, appeasing their last whim, and in return has been rewarded with their total disrespect for his pleasure, for his dignity, for his presumption. He indulges in stupefying drugs of the belly and the mind, concentrated by his soft-pedal puppeteers for maximum potency, and loses himself in petty pop culture distractions so perfectly crafted to sedate any spark of fighting spirit or any glimmer of awareness at his decrepit prospects. He licks the boots of his self-assumed betters and endures their debt-propped credentialist servitude in hopes of a place at the shrinking table, or he denies betterment and retreats to a spiteful underculture of crass gluttony and exhilarating dysfunction. He dutifully mouths ruling class slogans as he bristles incoherently within a maze of diverse strangeness and under the gaze of cold surveillance. He wars with his masculine essence, surrendering to caricature or to simulated castration.

He farms gold, he uploads, he downloads, he pants loads, he MGTOWs, he cube codes, he Insta-chodes, he’s friendzoned, he faps alone, he dates low, he marries old, he’s sorta ‘mo (he’s proud to show), he cornholes, he corn sows, he’s a cuddle pro, he tucks a micro, he’s equality yo, he’s a harmless bro, he fucks slow (first licks her hole), no means no (as he well knows), he’s wow just wow (brash scares him so), he’s status quo, he’s a quota goat, his girlfriend’s gross (he won’t tell her though), he nuzzles cows, he scrapes and bows, he’s a cog-to-go, he luvs a ho, his titties grow, he’s GIRL YOU GO!, his ex-wife’s boyfriend spends his dough, his girlfriend fucked an asshole…

…he knows no home to call his own.

The modern Western White man is one fat fold away from watching forlornly as his scepter and orbs of manly pride dip below a tragic horizon, forever out of sight.

But, hey, those smartphones are nifty, right? You can use them to call for help when another fat feminist or ingrate racial huckster shits in your face for fun and profit.

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Save This Man!

A reader with an urgent family emergency has turned to the Chateau for help.

I have been reading your site for many years now and thank you for all of the wisdom you have shared. Your blog has improved my life in many ways, and I humbly ask your advice now to convince my brother that he is about to make a terrible mistake.

My brother is the pride of the family – went to a top school undergrad, graduated med school last year, and is now on his way to becoming a surgeon. He is a well-adjusted, mature man who has had a couple of long term relationships in the past and possesses above average intellect, physical, and social skills.

For the past 6 months he has been dating an unemployed divorcee who is 8 years older (he’s 28, she’s 36). This summer he will be moving across the country for his next rotation and they have decided that she will also move and live together with him. She has no social network in the region and even if she finds a job will be relying almost entirely on him financially, emotionally, etc. Not surprisingly she has been pushing him for a ring and a baby, and he seems to be happily going along with this.

My parents and extended family are distraught. We have all tried to reason with him but to no avail. You and your esteemed commentators can all see the train wreck that will occur if my cousin decides to marry and start a family with this woman.

My question to you is this: how can I talk him out of it?

Nervously Poolside,
Dr. No

This reader’s brother needs an intervention. A strong, powergut propelled, three pats on the back intervention. The best teachable moments are those which sock the nascent quisling in the face with a blistering infographic:

The graph is via GLPiggy. As you can see, more women have sex before age 25, but after that the dynamic flips and it’s men who enjoy the edge in sexual pleasure. The why is simple: women are most desirable when young. Men are most desirable when older, and continue staying desirable well into middle age. The underlying why is even simpler: Female attractiveness is almost entirely a function of their physical beauty. Male attractiveness is a function of multiple causes, including status, power, charm, looks and social dominance.

This is CH 101, aka Life 101, aka Feminist Soul Implosion 101.

So tell your brother it makes no sense to marry a woman eight years older than himself when he has the SMV goods RIGHT NOW to land a hotter, tighter, younger babe without divorce baggage, said baggage which itself is strong evidence she will divorce again. And on top of that, his SMV will only increase for another ten, perhaps twenty years, while hers, if she is the typical woman following the usual senescence track, will have a date with the wall of sexual expiration just about the time his appeal is maxing out.

That’s a recipe for marital failure. It makes no sense for him to hitch his cart to this gimp horse, unless….

she’s hot.

I mean, balls tingling, cock leaping hot.

You left this out of your description of her. Be honest, how hot is she? A hard 10? And not just for her age? Because if that’s the case, (however unlikely), many would find it difficult to dissuade him from experiencing the kind of glorious transcendental passion that most men can only crave from the sidelines of their gloomy masturbatoria.

You see, a man falls in love with a woman’s beauty. He does not fall in love with her smarts, her job, her credentials, her family connections, her employability, her future time orientation, or her ability to stand against the patriarchy or avoid the pitfalls of divorce.

Her beauty inspires his devotion, his lust, his love, his tenderness, his protectiveness, his delirium. Once inspired, he begins the journey of discovering all those other little things about her that seem now to him so powerfully alluring. Her beauty is the buttering ram that slides open doors to aspects of her subtler being that are joyously and post hoc-ally embraced by him as motivating reasons for his ardor.

Save this man, yes.

But save him from what? Himself? Or your family’s concern with appearances?

I ask with all sincerity. Because you need to be sure that you will act in your brother’s best interest. If he’s a man of solid self-possession who happens to be truly, deeply, crazily in love, leave him be. If he’s a beta who is clinging to what he imagines is a lifeline from a fate of grinding loneliness, then by all means get in his face.

Show him this blog. Let him sponge up the message that is both necessarily hateful and nourishing.

Slyly introduce finer specimens of femaledom into his life. Let him smell their intoxicating aroma.

Employ the carrot and the stick, the coax and the shame. In time, if he is not completely lost to the forces of self-doubt so preciously cultivated by our feminism glorified society, he will find his footing.

Preferably in the bed of a 22 year old stripper.

UPDATE

An astute commenter has noted that the reader requesting advice referred to the man in question as his brother, and then as his cousin. This may indeed be a troll email.

Nevertheless, the message stands. Trolls can often serve as useful springboards to discuss larger matters which do impact the lives of many men.

UPDATE 2

From original emailer,

My sincere gratitude for your post.

The cousin is a typo, he is my brother and this is a very real situation.

The woman in question is not hot at all, though not ugly – clearly post wall looking to latch on to a provider. 5 at best.

We are acting in his best interest as we can all see what will happen a few years down the road as your readers have already noted. He is more the latter than the former in terms of self possession vs beta – our working theory is that he fell headlong into this because he was in a new city working brutal hours without close friends around.

I am staging an intervention imminently and will keep you posted. The red pill will be hard for him to swallow but its better to go down swinging.

Just inform him that there are hot 21 year old women he can meet just about anywhere who would swoon for his surgeon swagger. Once he knows that, tell him he needs game. Direct him to the resources at this blog. Rudimentary game is all it should take for a whole world of young, exquisite pussy to blossom before his eyes. It sounds like the beta is strong in this fellow, so his shift in attitude from a scarcity mentality to an abundance mentality will need to be swift and sure. Good news: the shift will fully reflect his real opportunity.

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Tamerlan’s Tsarina And The Perils Of Love Marriage

So Tamerlan Tsarnaev, the older Muslim Boston bomber brother, had a loving white American wife of WASPy lineage who donned his approved Islamic head coverage and bore him his hell-spawnage. Some have asked, where was Katherine Russell’s father during her descent into badboy servitude? If the photo of the dad after news of Tamerlan’s death is any indication, the guy is giddy that his son-in-law is no longer for this world.

Arranged marriages don’t sound like much fun, but one problem with moving as a culture toward exclusively love-based marriage is that it neuters the ability of parents to exert any control over their daughters’ instinctual romantic compulsions. The ancients knew that women’s libidos were dangerous when left unchecked. But a culture that prizes doe-eyed love as the be-all and end-all of legitimate marriage must come to terms with the fact that many women love the wrong kinds of men. It’s in their genes.

When lust-fueled love as a basis for forming putative lifelong marital unions crowds out all other considerations, the influence that parents wield over their daughters’ mate choices gets winnowed as well. After all, who is a parent to say what his or her daughter feels? Love knows no reason. And so what you get is fathers like the one above, powerless to stop his daughter’s stupid decisions, and overjoyed when fate steps in to excise the cancer from his family that he wished he could excise himself, but never had the guts nor the informal societal support to do so.

Love makes betas of men, in more ways than one, and it would be wise to remember that some of those men are fathers whose authority has been gutted by the awesome power of love.

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Nauseating Beta Male ODA

Sitting near me, facing away, was a frumpily dressed woman. To her side stood her boyfriend (or husband, couldn’t see the hands for ring verification), who was carrying two backpacks in one arm and had his other arm resting on his woman’s shoulders. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

A minute later, he did it again. Less than a minute after that, his lips once again anointed the top of her head. Then the head pecks came like a rain, one drop kiss after another.  peck… peck… peck  A wave of nausea overcame me as his peckings reached a crescendo and he began to resemble a chicken plucking seeds from her hair. Finally, I couldna take it no more, and had to evacuate the scene of herbage.

Why do some men do this? Is it for the benefit of their girlfriends? She seemed to be tolerating him well enough, but such egregiously obsequious displays of affection (ODA) have got to be a turn-off for women. In public, it’s worse; a woman can better endure her betaboy’s chimp-like grooming rituals in the privacy of home, where she does not experience the double revulsion that would be the case in public where it’s easy to suspect he’s slobbering all over her to advertise to the world how lucky he is to have her. Or to ward off better men from stealing his hard-won concubine.

If it’s meant as a warning to other men to keep their distance… believe me, dude, it won’t work on any man seriously considering a run for your “prize”. All it would take is one moment alone with your beloved and an innocent offer of a napkin to help “clean up the saliva” from the top of her head, and it’s off to the races.

There’s an alpha way and a beta way to do PDA. Firm ass, boob or crotch grabs, neck sniffs, erotic ear whisperings or hiney slaps are examples of alpha males staking their territory. Head peckings are beta. Why don’t you just pick lint off her exquisite princess robes while you’re at it?

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World Leaders: A Study In Contrasts

VS.

Barack Obama apologizes for calling Kamala Harris ‘best-looking attorney general’

U.S. President Barack Obama has apologized to California Attorney General Kamala Harris for causing a stir when he called her “the best-looking attorney general” at a Democratic fundraiser this week.

Yeah, yeah, Putin dispatches enemies abroad with polonium-tipped umbrellas, and you’d probably not want to say anything bad about him on the internet if you were living in Russia, but ask yourselves, who would you rather represent your country? This guy:

or this guy?

Now who does Putin’s “boobies!” face remind me of? Oh yes…

Great alpha males troll the shit out of vapid feminists. The best response to a shrieking femcunt is withering condescension, garnished with a belittling thumbs up or a shit-eating smirk.

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Spot The Alpha And The Beta

Submitted by a reader, subtitled “New Year’s Eve, 1969”.

This photo, besides being awesome, is also subversively illustrative of sexual dynamics and of how we are evolutionarily wired to react in a standardized way to simple body language cues for information about potential competitors and potential mates.

What’s your first thought? If you were like most men *and* women, you autonomically assigned the value BETA to the man snuggling into his woman for a feeding, and the value ALPHA to the man sitting up with his woman nestled in his chest.

Take a moment to digest your subconscious reaction. Never mind that we don’t know the actual status of the relationships for these two couples. Ask yourself why, instead, you felt the emotions you did. And why what you felt is so similar to what everyone else, including manboobs and feminists, felt.

The characters in this snapshot of sexual polarity are similarly dressed and similarly attractive. Even their facial expressions — sleepy, passed out (perhaps), and neutral — don’t tell us much. The only real difference is the posture of each person. That’s what the viewer has to go on to make his instant assessment of each person’s sexual market value. And yet we don’t hesitate to assess; nor do we grope for the right assessment. It jumps out at us.

And what is that assessment? One man’s relationship is going up that escalator. The other man’s is going down.

PS Looks like a bunch of fun-loving ruffians slip n’ slid down the escalator’s fast track and got painfully acquainted with its metal protrusions. Not that I would know anything about pulling such stunts. 😳

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The Most Dangerous Word: Love

Reread the title of this post. Love is not the most dangerous emotion. (That would be pride, followed closely by jealousy.) Love is the most dangerous word.

How so?

Because the word is pregnant with so much covert meaning. Because its utterance can mean the end, or the beginning, of a romantic adventure that spans years or decades.

Examine the multitude of ways the word can be spoken, intended and interpreted within a romantic context.

– A beta male (or beta female) speaking it incessantly in hopes of convincing or guilt-tripping an ambivalent partner to commit more deeply to the relationship.

– An alpha male (or alpha female, but typically less often encountered) declaring his love in hopes of convincing himself that his fading feelings are a mirage.

– An alpha female perfunctorily burping the word at her beta provider boyfriend during the one week of her monthly cycle when she finds the thought of sex with him repulsive.

– A normally aloof and emotionally distant alpha male or alpha female using it unexpectedly as an expression of repressed guilt for cheating or thinking about cheating.

– A beta male exclaiming love to the heavens, blind to any lack of reciprocation from the woman he loves, because he is overjoyed with his own ecstasy.

– A beta male never saying the word because he is afraid it will drive away the woman he loves. If he is thinking this, his intuition is probably true.

– Two lovers wrestling as one, ejaculating the word in a climax of sincere, unfiltered, honest passion.

– A beta female saying it to an alpha male during post-coital cuddles, misconstruing his lust energy for love energy.

– An omega male professing love to his couch crease knowing his feelings can’t be repudiated.

Recall Poon Commandments I, V and VI.

Don’t proclaim your love first. Give your woman that honor.

Don’t whore your joy. Women love higher status men, and one condition of higher status is a temperate eagerness and gratitude.

Don’t give away your emotional store. A woman appreciates a man who understands her need for anticipation and slow discovery.

A few broadly applicable suggestions for beta males and how to tame the most dangerous word would be these:

When you feel like declaring your love, stop, take a mental breath, and save it for another time.

When you declare your love, check yourself, and don’t say it again. Once is more than enough.

When your declared love has gone unanswered, don’t push for resolution, explanation or emotional deliverance, however much you want your fears allayed. Ignore the momentary rejection and bide your time. Some women will reply in kind days or weeks or even months later. If she doesn’t, you have your red flag. Start thinking about escape and renewal.

Don’t drop the love bomb immediately after you’ve dropped your jizzbomb. Women never — NEVER — believe the word to be sincerely expressed in a post-bangal glow. At best, she’ll be abstractly flattered. At worst, she’ll conflate your insistent love with your desperate lust for her body, and conclude your horniness guides your emotions. You will be weakened in her judgment as a result.

Here is my advice to alpha males regarding the use of the L word:

You will have to remind yourself to say it once in a blue moon. When you do, make sure it’s at the most inappropriate (i.e., in public) or unexpected (i.e., while she’s standing at the kitchen sink) times. She will swoon forever.

All cocky and no sincerity makes Jack a predictable boy. Either be passionate and real, or admit that you don’t really love your woman like you think you do.

If you are saying it a lot after sex, you are probably trying to convince yourself of feelings you don’t have. Enlarge your harem, and thereby reduce the amount of time spent on each lover. Absence breeds aphrodisia.

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