Beta Of The Year Contest

Randall Parker, writer of two blogs that I read (Parapundit.com and Futurepundit.com), suggested I run a BOTY on-going contest in which the readers submit links to beta candidates. I liked the idea, so I’ve set up a separate page at the top and right of my blog where you can leave your links to betas in the comments.

At the end of each month, I will select two betas from among the monthly reader submissions for a vote to determine the Beta Of The Month (BOTM) winner. If your link is the winning BOTM, I will buy you a beer and sarge with you if you’re in town.

At the end of the year, there will be a final reader vote to crown the illustrious Beta Of The Year all-around winner from the twelve BOTM winners. Prize for the winning BOTY link has yet to be decided.

Happy hunting!

Tip: If you like to win, you want to keep a sharp eye for the most pathetic, cringeworthy betas possible. The New York Times is usually a good source for stories involving these kinds of betas.

Read Full Post »

Western Institutions Are Abandoning Beta Males

I’ve lovingly detailed how the institution of marriage, the cultural zeitgeist, and the government have it in for beta males, and now the matrifocal rot has spread into traditional stalwarts like the Catholic Church.

The news – and as it happens, there is some real news about all this – is that this sophisticated game of dumbing down the costs of Lust has left many people disarmed at what may be the worst possible time. Such was the plain meaning of a conference at Princeton last weekend on “The Social Costs of Pornography.” The Witherspoon Institute and two other groups organized a gathering that for once truly deserves the adjective “groundbreaking” – an unprecedented assortment of psychiatrists, psychologists, authors, scientists, and professors of sociology, psychology, law, and philosophy, summoned from around the nation to tally up and explain, in particular, the human toll of internet pornography.

Just for starters, another outstanding lie of our time – that pornography itself is a victimless, harmless pursuit – has been definitively laid to rest by these researchers. In an age of so many fake victims, they offered a torrent of data about real ones. Lawyers reported that a growing percentage of divorces now come from pornography addiction. Therapists reported that frustrated wives and girlfriends gave the ultimatum, “it’s your porn or me,” only to have husbands and boyfriends choose the former – with family trauma and breakup the entirely predictable results. All this is to say nothing of the children and adolescents dragooned into the “industry” via drugs, prostitution, and rape; or of the many other children and adolescents who have been inadvertently or deliberately exposed to internet pornography as their first template, with consequences that even the most jaded psychologists and related practitioners cannot yet imagine.

This article about the consequences of lust — porn in particular — was written for a Catholic magazine, and the study was conducted in part by a Catholic-leaning independent research group. If priests are delivering the same message in their homilies seen in print articles like this, then the beta male has truly become society’s whipping boy. There is no sanctuary for the beta when his last outpost of cross-gender social support — organized religion — has abandoned him. He still has the military… barely.

The reason longstanding traditional religious institutions like the Catholic Church are failing has less to do with growing secularism than with its turn away from a patriarchal message toward a feminized one. To blame porn for all that is afflicting Western social adhesion is to miss the forest for the trees. Instead of pathologizing beta males for turning to porn en masse, the church should be extolling wives to push away from the table. An empathetic understanding of the beta’s plight would recognize the shift in power dynamics in modern courtship and marriage — women are getting fatter and pickier at the same time, putting more of them under the threshold of attractiveness for the average man and disincentivizing him to work hard at making a relationship or marriage happy and loving. Furthermore, women hold ALL the cards once the man says “I do”, giving him absolutely zero leverage to conduct his marital affairs with masculine gusto, for fear of the law in collaboration with the amoral opportunism of ex-wives flaying the last ounce of spirit from his body.

No wonder husbands are choosing porn over their fat and psychopathic wives, who lash them within inches of their lives.

The Catholic Church, like so many other institutions of the modern West, forgot one very basic tenet along the way to post-1968 enlightenment — a woman’s sexual desire is more dangerous than a man’s, and must therefore be subject to more forceful moral teachings constraining it. (Note: I speak as an objective outside observer who sees the writing on the wall. Personally, I will continue to pursue my hedonistic lifestyle knowing full well that if all men followed my example the entire edifice would crumble to the ground in short order.)

Here’s my advice to the Church if you want to become relevant again: Encourage your priests to emphasize the deadly sin of gluttony. Shame women into being considerate of their husbands’ sexual needs. Impress upon men their duty to act in accordance with their heretofore smothered masculine essence. Bitch less about men’s aggressive sexual energy and shift the focus to women’s insidious sexual elan. Preach to mobilize action to change the laws so marriage stops being a game rigged against the interests of men.

In a word, become more patriarchal. It’s what the West needs right now. A belt of Anglo-infused XY TNT wrapped around a message delivered in a windowless van right at the steps of city hall. It’s either that, or eventually succumb to the really nasty patriarchal hordes of the lesser cultures slamming battering rams into your gleaming glass postmodern styled fortress walls.

Read Full Post »

Don’t Be This

herbie the love beta

When you visualize beta, he’s not always a loveless nerdo who repels girls. Sometimes, he’s the guy in the photo above nestled snugly in his girlfriend’s bosom… in public.

Here we have a prime specimen.

• Fat chipmunk cheeks betraying aversion to physical exertion
• Asian girlfriend hotter, and thinner, than what he could pull in a white girlfriend
• Rumpled, oversized khaki pants with room for three accidental shits
• Fingers intertwined like spaghetti — herb spaghetti
• Soft Palmolive hands from years of tapping keyboards and studiously avoiding manual labor
• Leaning into his girlfriend, displaying a complete gender role reversal
• Blissfully unaware of his horrid betaness and everyone secretly laughing at him

Some may wonder, how does this beta manage to score a decent looking girlfriend who apparently loves him? We can only surmise. Nine inch cock? A reasonable assumption, but he couldn’t play that card until after she’s agreed to sleep with him. Bank? A more likely scenario, but provider beta status doesn’t work on cute chicks like it used to. This is yupville, after all. Soft polygamy is the rule in the big coastal cities. Closet alpha with tight game? A lot of guys you wouldn’t suspect by their normal daytime behavior handle their girls with a firm pimp hand behind closed doors. But if this guy has girlfriend management game, he’s not showing it at all. Guys with even a bare minimum understanding of women and basic game skills know better than to curl up into their girlfriend’s bosom IN PUBLIC like a cat wanting to be petted. Odds are good that this herbus maximus has no game.

Best answer: She’s Asian.

No non-fatty white girlfriend would tolerate such nauseating beta shit for long. His ass would be dumped as soon as the bartender winked at her. Is it any wonder guys like this hone in on Asian girls? I don’t blame them. With the Asian girlfriend, they get to be all the beta they can be, without fear of reprisal. And they don’t have to settle for a fat chick.

To my beta readers: If you do manage to land a cute girlfriend, for the love of all that is manly, don’t ever do what this guy is doing. Think of this blog post, imprint that photo to memory, and you’ll thank me later for saving your relationship.

Read Full Post »

Sexbotopia!

It’s coming.

Robo-wife Aiko starts the day by reading Le the main newspaper headlines.

The couple often go for a drive in the countryside, where Aiko proves a whizz at directions.

And they always sit down for dinner together in the evening, although Aiko doesn’t have much of an appetite.

Le says his relationship with Aiko hasn’t strayed into the bedroom, but a few “tweaks” could turn her into a sexual partner.

Le said: “Her software could be redesigned to simulate her having an orgasm.”

I’d bet good money this guy is sticking his peen somewhere in Aiko.

[Inventor Le Trung] said: “Aiko doesn’t need holidays, food or rest, and will work almost 24 hours a day. She is the perfect woman.”

For many beta nerds, the no muss no fuss woman is their idea of perfection.

Aiko sparks mixed reactions in public.

Le said: “Women usually try to talk to her. But men always want to touch her, and if they do it the wrong way she slaps them.”

In this post, I described how our future sexbotopia would shake up the alpha-beta, male-female playing field.

Betas (niceguys with a heart of gold and zero sex appeal) – the more frustrated betas will retreat from the dating scene to be with their sexbots.  They’ll not opt out completely, though.  Having a decent job and a willingness to help raise a family is still a form of buying power.  I see sexbots for betas dissuading them from learning the art of seduction, thus making them even more ineffectual in the field as their already-meager skills atrophy.  He might think to himself, “what’s the point of dealing with the frustrations and delayed gratification of dating mediocre looking women for subpar sex when I have a Rachel Weisz sexbot waiting at home for me?”  A big negative feedback loop could result, where the lower status betas exercise their sexbot option with increasing regularity until they have excluded themselves completely from bothering with meeting women.

Readers doubted such a future could ever come to pass, but if Aiko has to be programmed to slap away men wanting to cop a feel of her robot body, then given the rapid advances in robotics, it’s not farfetched to envision a world where fully 70% of all men (sub alpha and lower) choose to get their rocks off with hot good-to-go robot girls instead of bland game-playing human girls. If present trends continue, and huge swaths of fertile-age women are overweight in the future, then beta males will have all the more incentive to abandon the live dating market in favor of the mechanical one.

What this means for women is self-evident: A cratering of their market position. And a beaver boon to alphas and aspiring alphas. At first, I predict women will welcome their sexbot replacements. The argument will be along these lines: “Hey, if it means annoying losers stop bothering me and only cool men are left to date, I’m all for it!” Gradually, though, as the fallout from sexbotopia emerges, these women will change their tune when simple mathematics has them being used like discount bin cum receptacles by the 30% of alpha men willing to overlook the inconvenience of their targets being human and looting the sexual store for all the free pussy they can carry out. The hypergamy and soft polygamy of today will become the de facto harems and hard polygamy of tomorrow. Marriage will become an anachronism. There will be more lesbian marriage announcements in the New York Times than all other marriage types combined.

Slowly, the tide will turn against sexbots. Women will grow resentful as it dawns on them that their alpha orgasms cum with a price; namely, disposability. There is only so much cock sharing a woman can endure before emotional distress cripples her ability to function like a normal member of society. At this point, I foresee women clamoring loudly for incredible levels of government nanny state intervention to act as beta male provider for their millions of bastard alpha children. Tax rates will zoom through the roof, targeted, naturally, mostly at the beta males happily fornicating into their Natalia Vodianova robots. The economy withers. Crime explodes.

Then the real shit hits the fan. Problem: Sexbots can’t reproduce. Result: None of those beta males who invent stuff like sexbots and cell phones — the kinds of stuff women have no inclination to invent nor shown any capability to invent in the past — will pass on their genes. The more sexbots infiltrate society, the fewer civilizational underpinning beta males will be born. Eventually, the whole technological edifice crumbles, taking the sexbots along with it, and a dystopia of smooth-talking salesmen and peacocked PUAs are left behind to scavenge the scarred savannah of snapper. The West will be reduced to a violent, dreary landscape of African and Central Asian-style tribal conflict, complete with gauche warlords and prison complexes that rival small nations in scope.

You’re shaking your head. Don’t believe me? Thought experiment. Who wins the battle supreme to capture male attention:

 

VS.

Read Full Post »

Beta Of The Year Award: Husband “Supports” Wife’s Whoring

Previously, I awarded BOTY to the man who petitioned the state to change his last name so he could take his wife’s maiden name in marriage. It’s difficult to write while choking back vomit, but I managed to tough out my nausea and bring his story to the readers in hopes that I could save the life of even one man from such a horrible self-inflicted castration.

I may have been too hasty bestowing the ignominious BOTY award to “wife’s last name” guy. The year isn’t over and we have recently had a new contender for the crown. He’s the husband of a 38 year old woman who got drunk at a college football game and fucked a random dude in the men’s bathroom as people gawked and cheered them on, while he sat oblivious in his seat watching the game.

Feldman, a married mother of three, has been the target of Internet jokes and prank telephone calls today. She was fired this morning from an assisted living center, where she had been an administrator.

Feldman said her husband, Kelly, has been supportive. She said he faults himself for not going with her when she left her seat to use the restroom before halftime.

There are only two things a man should do if confronted with a humiliating betrayal of this magnitude:

1. Say nothing to your wife except these two words: “Goodbye, whore.”
2. As one of my commenters suggested, get retroactive paternity tests done for all “his” children. Odds are high that not all his kids are his.

That’s it. Other than a well-deserved slap across the face before walking out, (something I don’t recommend as American law as currently constituted will not be lenient toward a husband exacting righteous retribution on a whoring wife), this is all he needs to do. Anything more, and he has effectively acceded to his public emasculation. Unfortunately, the “man” in this story has done just the opposite, and so has earned a year-end berth to challenge the reigning champion for Beta Of The Year.

You, the readers, will vote to decide on the winner below.

A couple things jumped out at me when I read this sorry tale of ho. Betas love that word “supportive”. They cling to it like a piece of driftwood in a stormy sea, probably figuring that “being supportive” of their cheating spouses will spark a renewed love they never really shared. Or that this stupidly magnanimous act of phony generosity in the face of such a monumental infidelity will silence the taunting of the alphas that haunt their nightmares. I can’t think of a more counterproductive… or cringlingly pansy-assed response… than to “support” a cheating wife, especially one who cheats so flagrantly. At least avowed masochists derive some pleasure from the whippings.

This is the woman the husband is supporting:

Police ticketed Feldman, 38, and Ross Walsh, 26, of Linden for indecent conduct Saturday night.

A security guard who said he saw the two having sex through a gap in a men’s restroom stall flagged down campus police, according to the police report.

Men’s restroom? Was she really on her way to the ladies’ room and got pulled aside? Or did she have fucking in mind and loitered around the men’s bathroom until an acceptable prospect strolled by?

By the time an officer arrived, about a dozen people were cheering and laughing in the bathroom while Feldman and Walsh were inside the stall, the report said.

The officer pushed his way through the crowd, opened the door and separated Feldman and Walsh, the report said.

Police described both Feldman and Walsh as upset, drunk and uncooperative.

It doesn’t matter that she was drunk. Plenty of married women get drunk and don’t fuck strangers in public bathrooms while hubby dutifully waits for her return. The alcohol was a hindbrain serum, throwing into stark relief her craving to take the cock of an alpha male. Liquor is not a disabler of reason; it is an enabler of desire. Without the alcohol, she might have been a little more circumspect in where and how she cheated.

Then there was this:

She said he faults himself for not going with her when she left her seat to use the restroom before halftime.

Read that line again. Let the sickening gravity of it hit you in the chest with a thud. You are witnessing a peek into the shriveled, neutered, microphallic mini-id of a man who has utterly surrendered his masculinity. A man whose only concept of himself is through others — and specifically through whatever woman will give him the time of day. You want to reach out, grab this schmuck by the shoulders, and open-handedly slap him silly across the face until he comes to his senses. Faults himself?! For her getting drunk and fucking the first guy she deemed an alpha on her walk to the bathroom while onlookers cheered? This is the inwardly twisted thinking of a soulkilled wastrel. This is how a man reacts when he has no confidence in himself to stand up and stare down a woman who has wronged him.

If we were discussing politics, the analogue to this guy is the man who reflexively blames his countrymen for the evil committed by foreign enemies.

What kind of man would willingly accommodate his own dishonor? I’ll tell you what kind of man — a man who lives in fear. A man afraid to lose a woman because he believes he cannot get another. A man who is scared shitless to WALK.

In other words, a beta.

Why do women love cads? The answer is above. Women love men who live without fear.

Read Full Post »

How To Screw Up A Date

I’ve received inside info about a second date gone bad from a female party who shall remain anonymous. I post it here to illustrate for the men reading what *not* to do on a date. I found the scenario described by Anonymous Girl a textbook example of the egregious dating fouls committed by the typical beta.

******

Had my second date last night. we had a lovely dinner, good conversation, albeit he seemed a bit manic to get his points across.

I can’t believe in this day and age there are still guys who take girls out on dinner dates. Please. Dinner is what your girlfriend cooks you. If you’re stuffing food in your mouth, you’re not charming her with your words or tonguing her down. Dinner dates = contrived ambience = uncomfortable pressure = killing the sexy vibe. And speaking with urgency is a major beta giveaway. Betas seeking approval always try to cram as many of their thoughts into a conversation as possible, hoping that one of the conversational threads and/or embarrassing personal vignettes will impress the girl and lead to intimacy. Frantic speed talking = beta. Slow laconic conversation where every word has the weight of an advancing glacier = alpha.

as the night wore on, i had trouble taking him seriously. he has 3 [dorky types of clothing] he writes about on fbook, he joked they were bigger than obama. he wore one last night. i know it’s a joke, but he is vain.

pretty quickly, his [occupational] addiction/cliquey [occupation] thing began grating on my nerves. he insisted on making a phone call outside the restaurant, he believes it’s a cardinal sin to do it in the restaurant. he had thoughtfully made reservations at another restaurant in case this one was full but then made a point of telling me how appreciative the other place was when he cancelled the reservation. ??

I’ve included this bit to show you how many hoops a girl expects a man to jump through, without his knowing ahead of time just what those hoops entail. This is an elaborate stained-glass window into the mental 463 bullet point checklist that girls carry with them every time they meet a potential suitor. As men, we hardly comprehend this need of women to judge every insignificant and irrelevant detail, and thinking too hard about this will cause great internal confusion and manifest as a terrible neediness to “win her over” on dates.

While the actions of the guy above aren’t the stuff of 100% coolness, viewed in the proper perspective he didn’t do anything that would warrant expulsion from the society of normal human beings. This makes a lot of guys resentful of women and their fickle standards. Forget about it. The good news: If you run tight game, you don’t have to worry about meeting her bullet points. She’ll excuse away minor idiosyncracies as long as you are turning her on.

when the charcuterie plate arrived heaped with blood sausage and other alien delicacies like broccoli/cauliflower hybrids he whispered, ‘and so it begins’ in my ear and kissed my hair, nauseating.

And then there are the non-minor idiosyncracies. I can’t believe a guy can make it through decades of life and not know this would creep out a woman. Leaning in after the blood sausage arrives and whispering “and so it begins” in her ear while kissing her hair is not sexy, though I bet he concocted this putatively James Bond-esque scenario in his head in a thrill of devilish gusto and was eager to try it out in real life.

Timing: Lesser Beta.
Execution: Greater Omega.
Intent: Greater Beta.

I do give him points for boldness, however maladroit.

last night he took his glasses off and was sort of slouching in the booth – i think he was trying to cue me to do something.

Funny. A lot of guys think slouching is sexy, that it highlights the aloofness girls love so much. More often than not, slouching shows a guy who can’t sit up straight. If you’ve already established your alpha cred, you can slouch and seem coolly unperturbed. If you’re in betaland, your slouching will look like the posture of a broken, dispirited man. If he was attempting to nonverbally signal readiness for a BJ, slouching is a half-assed way to go about it. I recommend approaching naked, fully erect, a few inches from her face until she goes cross-eyed. Preferably in a crowded restaurant.

i put my fur on and said i had to go home, work tomorrow. by now there was something vaguely passive aggressive in the air that really spurred me on to think of myself. i payed for half the meal. now i wonder: if i had been more physical, would he have payed for the entirety?

When betas feel sexually thwarted it comes out as passive aggressive weakness. An alpha knows to keep a cool head and refrain from letting his frustration bubble to the surface, where it can poison any future possibility of his date setting him up with one of her hottie friends.

It’s interesting to note that girls make the connection between money and physical escalation. Lesson: Flip the script. If you pay for a girl’s drinks, don’t push her for the kiss. And vice versa: If she gets physical with you, don’t start paying for her drinks as reward. Conspicuous enticement is anhedonic.

when we got outside he said, ‘do you mind?’ standing like four feet away from me. i’m like, ‘do you mind what?’ he kissed me, big warm kiss. it was all of 2 seconds. he lept back and complained that it was like a ’17th century kiss’ – and on and on about how bad it was. i gave him a pity hug and hailed a cab with the other arm. he murmured something about liking my fur. it actually really hurt my feelings. his civility ended in the restaurant and then he pulled the claws out. way too much insecurity for a second date.

“it actually really hurt my feelings.” Negs work!

It just goes to show how even ostensibly smart guys can have zero concept of game.  “Do you mind?”?!?  Oh no that won’t do.  Major DLV.  *IF* a man is going to ask for a kiss, the term of art is “would you like to kiss me”, a la Mystery style.  Then you have your followup answers ready: If she says “yes”, go for it.  “Maybe”, say “Let’s find out” and go for it.  “No”, say “Well, I didn’t say you COULD. You just had that look on your face.”

But the kiss question is moot. It’s best to simply lean in when the moment is right and bust a move. No words exchanged.

As if the hole wasn’t deep enough, the guy emailed her the next morning to fully display for public humiliation and my wicked amusement whatever shreds of betatude he neglected to air out during the date.

Him: That had to be the worst kiss ever.  I give it my lowest rating; one star, plus a thumbs down. Still, for the sake of my ego (which is not too enthusiastic about sexual rejection), the chaste kiss is better than getting the cheek. Nevertheless, I had fun.  I think you are trill.

This is straight out of cocky/funny game. Except he did it all wrong. You’re not supposed to tell the girl her kiss was terrible, you’re supposed to rate it a “7, but i think with practice you could get up to an 8, or a 9 even”. And you have to do it in person, with a sly grin, not over email the next morning when the moment has long passed! What an amateur. Then he lowered his value further by admitting he was sexually rejected.

Maxim #75: If you get sexually rejected, don’t admit it to yourself, and especially don’t admit it to the girl.

And what does ‘trill’ mean? Sounds vaguely LARPer-ish.

Back to Anonymous Girl:

he hurt my feelings. i emailed him back – told him i’m not a restaurant and that he should ‘work it out.’ i guess these are the perils of the dating world! what a weirdo.

ps it should be noted i was complimentary throughout the entire evening, on the shirt, the restaurant, his writing, his family sagas…i guess he could smell that i wasn’t INTO him though and decided to dive bomb the entire experience in retaliation — gay.

Divebombing is the spurned id unleashed. Closers can afford to divebomb; betas cannot. If you sense that your date isn’t INTO you, then the best thing to do is say you had a nice time, wish her good luck finding someone, and leave. Don’t make a production out of it. Expressively minimalist is the alpha way when handling rejection. Vengeance is ecstatically thrilling from a position of power, but cringingly self-defeating from the vantage point of a cornered pig ego-pricked and bleeding beta all over the ground.

Strategically, I have a hard time blaming this guy for the failure of this courtship. There were other forces he was unaware of that conspired against his succeeding. Tactically, though, he was a complete fuck-up. His is the classic case of a congenital beta overreaching in a spazzy attempt at grasping the alpha mantle, landing a flurry of off-target blows, only to dissolve in a mudpuddle of piglet squeals when things didn’t go his way.

Read Full Post »

Visualizing Omega

In my “Defining the Alpha Male” post, I described the detritus of malehood:

Lesser Omega, [Can only get] 0s and 1s, Will never feel love; can’t keep a girl longer than 3 days, Dry spells > 5 years.

I’ve already taken you on journeys exploring the vast wastelands of the beta universe, but that was child’s play. It’s time to pull back the curtain on the shambling mounds and wretched creatures who walk among us; the monsters who inhabit the far FAR left tail of the human bell curve.

Behold, the OMEGA:

When this is the best you can do, you are a lesser omega. You aren’t at the lowest level of dreg because you haven’t dropped out of society entirely and are able, however nauseatingly, to propagate your genes. But really, why would you condemn your future ugly children to a lifetime of misery and self-loathing? The compassionate thing to do would be to refrain from reproducing.

Notice the telltale omega traits (besides his choice of mate): Lowered gaze, meek countenance, leaning into his beastly wife, feeble self-conscious smile, dumbo ears, weak chin and jawline, beady eyes. Yes, he’s in the military, but that is no guarantee of high(er) status. The bottom of the barrel often embrace the soldier’s life because it offers the only chance to raise their value. They risk death as cannon fodder for a shot at respectability. If they’re lucky, they might even return home to a hero’s welcome.

Look at the faces on the groomsmen… abject defeat. Public humiliation. Despair for their unlucky buddy. Disgust. Even the little boy knows what a bunch of losers have gathered here today. The ability to discern a human status hierarchy is ingrained from birth. And they are likely pissed that the bridesmaids are too grotesque to tap.

The brideshogs look a little less morose, probably because they understand that their less-human-than-human hogzilla sister has gotten the better end of the deal by the very fact that she managed to find a man, however pathetic, who would be willing to dump a fuck in her flabby porcine hole.

62% of American women are overweight, with no end in sight to the disfiguration of their most precious resource. They live in towns like Ninety-Six, South Carolina (yes, real name). They have no self-discipline, eating until they explode like Mr. Creosote. Is it any wonder American men with the means are choosing to meet women overseas? When more than half the women in your country have removed themselves as dating prospects, the fuckable ones in the minority raise their asking price through the roof. It’s a vicious predicament.

If you were forced at gunpoint to have sexual relations with one of these women, who would you choose, and how would you do it? The couch crease never looked so sexy.

Sloping brow lardo and inbred omega nerdo in love. Possibly they are both borderline retarded. Ugliness and stupidity correlate. No one wants to look at people like this in the office, so they will probably work at jobs in coal mines or sewage treatment plants where they don’t pollute anyone’s vista. It’s time to end all public support so the genetic lines of the omegas dies out. It’s nature’s way to cull the weak and ugly. Without the cull, the degenerate freaks reproduce, dragging the rest of humanity with them (or chasing them off into gated communities with armed guards). The modern welfare state is responsible for the coming Idiocracy. It was preordained.

You can see the rest of the pictures at this forum, and the hilarious comments in response. The groom even has a Myspace page, so it’s the real deal.

Could this lesser omega have done better with game? Yes. In fact, for a guy this ugly, dorky and meek-looking, game will be especially effective. He can go from getting crushed underneath a heap of garbage during rutting to banging non-hideous 3s and 4s. Nothing short of Steve Buscemi level fame or vast wealth will raise his sexual market value, so the only self-improvement technique at his disposal is game.

I have to think there is no way this guy can get it up for her, no matter how horny or lonely. Below some mininum female ugliness floor, every penis becomes operationally flaccid. Ugly men and good-looking men get turned on by the same hot women, just like fat men and slim men want the same slender chicks. The packaging may change, but the brain remains the same.

While there is room to settle, I think past some ugly threshold a man looks at a pseudo-woman and regardless how motivated he is by the bounty of pity in his heart and horniness in his groin, his junk isn’t going to respond. Turning the lights off doesn’t always help. If she’s fat enough, you’ll hear her blubbery hideousness bumping into furniture and pulling the sheets off the bed. You’ll sink into her cheesy folds. You’ll listen to her grunts and wheezes as she goes down on you. You’ll have to sandblast the dingleberries out of her crack before doing her from behind. Dumpster dive deep enough, and you may as well be doing a man.

If this guy leaves her and decides it makes more sense to drop a few bucks and satisfy himself with a skanky street hooker, he will actually bump himself up from lesser omega to omega. As a man, there is such a thing as ranking lower than a celibate virgin — boffing a monstrous seacow will push you below a man whose only sexual outlet is porn.

Read Full Post »