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Archive for the ‘Biomechanics is God’ Category

15% of women have slept with their bosses. (37% of those got a promotion out of it.)

That 15% is the number of women who admitted to having affairs with their bosses, so we can safely double the number to get an accurate picture of the percentage of women banging up.

This is female hypergamy 101, the desire of women to date up, marry up, and fuck up. By “up”, I mean a man’s social, economic, and sexual status: women want a man higher than themselves in all the ways that matter, except looks and youth, in which women prefer to retain an edge over the men they screw.

The rise of a managerialist corporatocracy/gynecracy greased with conformist HR cogs from the effluvium of a thousand libarts colleges has created a sexual market that accommodates and amplifies the female hypergamous impulse. Any beta provider would be wise to steer his beloved away from hyper-stratified, super-SCALED corporate behemoths that are run as de facto harems by a few alpha males at the top supported by an admiring and desiring ovaclass of id-starved, Shonda Rhimes-raised women all too happy to turn the cubicle farm into a hive of gossip and sexual intrigue.

As long as humans are a sexually reproducing species, female hypergamy will always be a feature of life, but the least a healthy society can do is stop undermining its own foundation by feeding that hypergamy tasty morsels from the globohomo gadget mills and paper pushing parks.

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The difference between men and women? When men pay for prostitutes, they want sex. When women pay for gigoros, they want romance and flirting.

Cigarette smoke hangs thick in the air of a Tokyo nightspot as Aki Nitta sips champagne with a trio of sweet-talking Lotharios peddling fake love at premium rates.

In a country which has lost its mojo, many wealthy Japanese women spend eye-watering sums on male hosts in return for an evening of sweet talk, flirting — and often sex.

“I want my heart to flutter,” Nitta told AFP at a popular club in the Kabukicho red-light district lined with chrome and mirrors.

“Japanese men aren’t very attentive and don’t show their feelings, but hosts treat you like a princess. I want to be pampered and I don’t care how much it costs,” she adds. […]

But some big-spenders splurge over $100,000 in a single night to have their egos stroked by smooth-talking rental Romeos who themselves can earn five times that amount in a good month.

There’s a lucrative ROI in Japan for any man who has Game.

Many women — ranging from 20-somethings to those in their sixties — lavish expensive gifts on their favourite hosts, buying them diamond watches, luxury cars, even apartments.

Sugar mommies.

“When I was 20 a customer bought me a Porsche,” said former host Sho Takami, who owns a chain of clubs and likens a host’s role to that of a psychiatrist, with benefits.

LOL a gigolo’s job is basically a therapist for ronery women.

“It’s important the customer believes there’s a chance of love. After all that’s how you get her to come to the club and spend money,” Takami explained.

Game 101: Flip the script. Make the woman chase you. “So you’re saying I have a chance!”, she shrieked with delight.

Around 260 of those are located in Tokyo, most squeezed into Kabukicho’s narrow streets where flickering neon signs display the air-brushed faces of hosts outside clubs with names such as Romeo, Gatsby and Avalon.

You see, Japan does multiculturalism right: Don’t let the alien riff raff in; just appropriate their iconic characters from literature and make them your own.

Japan’s hosts, denizens of the night instantly recognisable by their spray tans, crimped long hair and tight-fitting suits, are often accused of preying on women’s emotions.

See how this game is played by the gynecracy? Pathologize male sexuality while casting women forever in the role of victims to predatory men. A simple rhetorical reframe is the best defense: Do female prostitutes prey on men’s libidos?

“We’re selling them dreams, so you lie about loving them in return for serious money,” added the 38-year-old club manager, freshly blow-dried and shirt open to reveal a medallion.

Peacocking pendant.

“Hosts exist to fill a void in someone’s life,” he said. “In this business, the host is the product. We pamper to a woman’s every need — listen to her problems, tell her she’s beautiful, act out her fantasies.”

This confirms a Chateau observation about the continental races: Beta Romantic Game works better with super-K-selected women like the Japanese. It also confirms another CH maxim: women are like doge shite; the older they get the easier they are to pick up.

With harsher restrictions on opening hours, regular police checks and far less ‘yakuza’ gangster involvement, the host business has cleaned up its shady image in recent years.

But the promise of sex is still dangled as bait in a cutthroat industry, admits Ichijo, whose plush apartment screams bling.

Within these stories if you read closely you can see the outlines of a future sexual market taking shape in Western and Westernized nations. It’s very Houellebecqian and Heartistian.

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One thing I have noticed (as has reader DoBA) is the incredible amount of hysterical bile flung at Trump by has-been ex-sluts, spinsters, cougars, and bitterbitch skanks whose salad days are receding in the rearview mirror. DoBA:

Re: Louise Mensch.

A lot of people don’t like Trump, but I’ve noticed a pattern in that the people who truly seem to DESPISE him with an obsessive fervor all seem to be aged ex-sluts. Examples among women I know: An old “rock club” slut who used to fuck metal bands passing through town; a former college friend who fucked almost the whole dorm hall and several professors; and the town slut who not only fucked but *dated* her high school bio teacher, then went on to be in countless wet t-shirt contests.

I could give more examples, but these are the most glaring. Why? Because they especially took offense to Trump’s pussy-grabbing comment. That’s right — the very women who were the first to actually get their tits out in their teens and twenties are now indignant in their forties that a man (OMG!) would actually talk about sex. Imagine that. How rude!

There has to be some weird psychological thing going on here. Resentment? Loss of power? Lack of control over the sexual market? All of the above?

I have three theories to explain the psychological motivations of ex-slut hatred of Trump (and by extension, hatred of Trumperica and its people).

  1. Shame. Ex-sluts have to carry the burden of their sluttery and no matter how much they put on a brave grrlpower face, they HATE HATE HATE to be reminded that they joyfully acquiesced to alpha men like a young Trump using their youthful bodies for fleeting pleasures of the flesh and of the peak femininity.
  2. The Wall. Ex-sluts try to ignore The Wall and their inevitable sex and romance-destroying impact with it. As with the shame of their sexual histories, ex-sluts don’t like reminders of their rapidly coalescing sexual (and marital) worthlessness. Trump’s well-known ALPHA MALE ENTITLEMENT in the company of younger hotter tighter women, and his implied DISAVOWAL of spending romantic effort on older women, is a constant needle under the skin of aging beauties for whom Trump is the visual embodiment of every man they secretly desire but can now no longer attract.
  3. Social ostracism. Fact is, if Trumperica is realized in all its feminism-jettisoning, patriarchy-recovering glory, sluts and spinsters will have a hard go of it, especially in the marital market. A nation of beta males energized with a renewed masculinity and healthy male prerogative will feel less inclined to suck up to low value women or, worse, settle for them out of a misplaced sense of lack of options which have heretofore been drilled into their heads by the man-hating shrikegeist. Trumperica means the end of beta male thirst, at least as it is practiced today under the rules of our degenerate matriarchy: in public, with ostentatiousness and self-defeating white knight earnestness. The drying up of the beta male thirst pool will mean, blessedly, less attention lavished on fading cock hop stars by any man but the most desperately indiscriminate blacks. Ex-sluts will feel this social demotion in their bones, and they fight against its arrival — an arrival in the form of Trump and his aesthete army — with a passion they are no longer able to conjure in the bedroom.

I hope this clears up the matter!

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Jonathan Haidt researched differences in morality between liberals and conservatives and one of his most striking findings was that liberals have a much higher threshold of disgust than do conservatives….that is, it take a lot more to disgust a liberal.

Related, liberals may also have a more difficult time judging when a person is disgusted, or reading the feeling of disgust on a person’s face. Liberals, iow, have a blind spot to disgust, (and this would partly explain their irrational xenophilia).

Given this premise, a reader wonders if a recent shitlibistan viral meme concerning photos taken of Ivanka Trump and Justine Truvada together and Ivanka’s purported lustful gaze is in fact a shitlib misidentification of Ivanka’s disgust for Truvada.

saw this bouncing around with the libs on fbook. Apparently they have a tough time distinguishing from female lust and female disgust….in one picture she is greeting him with a well rehearsed fake smile, the next photo she is looking right at him with a level of disgust that she can’t even fully hide. Clenched teeth in a forced half smile, a look of restrained dominance…in the other photo she isn’t even looking at him….

but of course, i suppose that is what love looks like to the beta male of our day

anyways, love the blog, keep it up. Cheers

The shitlib beta male probably does mistake disgust for love, because at least its a form of attention!

ivankatruvada

Is this Ivanka-Truvada rapprochement riven with lustful stirrings, or barely concealed disgusted misgivings? At least this photo above appears to me to show a latent disgust as much as it may display a blatant lust.

Whatever one may say about Truvada’s looks, his gay effeminate male feminist demeanor will turn off women soon enough. Most women will figure Justine for a closeted homosexual not long after he takes them home to discuss his admiration for Beyonce.

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Human world confirmation of the omnipresence of the God of Biomechanics on the sexual market is all around if you pay attention for signs of it. A vignette of sad and funny resonance flickered into the technicolor reel of my life recently.

Scene: a sidewalk stroll of intermittent urgency. An Asian guy walking towards me spins around about ten paces in front of me to say Hi to a petite, nicely figured Asian girl whom he apparently knew from somewhere. She registers his less-than-meaty intrusion with a surprised smile and a chirpy Hello, while her buff White frat bro boyfriend at her side keeps walking forward, ahead of my location. The un-hued boyfriend did turn round briefly, I suppose to send a signal, and his funtime waifu had to catch up to him, practically running backwards as she waved a perfunctory and no doubt inscrutable goodbye to the Asian dude, who by this point I could discern had acquired a saddened and somewhat miffed countenance (as best one can spy these things on a lunar facescape).

As our intrepidly stoic Asianman stumbles over his feet backing away from his rightful kinwoman who was obviously his source of many nights of dericious fapping, I look back at his retreating figure out of a morbid sympathy for his condition…..and catch him walking straight into a tree.

BRAM! oh the NOWAGity.

It really is a minor miracle that more NOWAG transplants in America the Diverse don’t go the full Elliot Rodgerian supreme gentleman.

If Game can help these Asian men reclaim their women in a harsh sexual ecosystem of unforgiving discrimination, then there isn’t a Game-denialist White beta alive who has any excuse left for his mopey inaction.

PS As I was coincidentally sharing a trajectory with the AW-WM couple and following on their heels, after the scene expired I could pick up her giggles and him punctuating her girlish shiv-twisting with a firm butt squeeze. No doubt all jokes were at the expense of the smitten samurai who had to swallow a romantic indignation that women are simply incapable of appreciating in its awesome ego-carving horror.

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Partner attractiveness has a corrosive effect on relationship stability.

Those rated as more attractive in high school yearbooks were married for shorter durations & more likely to divorce.

Across four studies, we examined the relational repercussions of physical attractiveness (PA). Study 1 (n = 238) found that those rated as more attractive in high school yearbooks were married for shorter durations and more likely to divorce. Study 2 (n = 130) replicated these effects using a different sample (high-profile celebrities). Study 3 (n = 134) examined the link between PA and the derogation of attractive alternatives, a relationship maintenance strategy. Study 4 (n = 156) experimentally manipulated perceived PA and examined its relation with both derogation of attractive alternatives and current relationship satisfaction. PA predicted likelihood of relationship dissolution and decreased derogation of attractive alternatives. Furthermore, PA predicted greater vulnerability to relationship threats—in this case, relationship alternatives—resulting from poor relationship satisfaction.

Shorter version: Options = Instability.

This particular study found no sex differences, but other similar research has found sex differences in attractiveness and relationship stability.

Think of the relationship permutations this way:

Man with options + woman with fewer options = man with peace of mind and wandering eye + happy but anxious woman + lovingly prepared home-cooked meals.

Woman with options + man with fewer options = unhappy woman with wandering eye + happy but anxious man + microwaved dinners.

Man with options + woman with options = stable relationship. Both are happy and infidelity or rupture risks are minimized.

Man with few options + woman with few options = stable relationship. Both are unhappy yet infidelity or rupture risks are still minimized.

***

A recent study found that relationship length is partly a function of the attractiveness of the woman’s face.

Generally, relationships in which the man has more options than the woman are less likely to rupture than relationships with the inverse dynamic. There are a few reasons for this discrepancy, but the primary reason is that men, especially HSMV men, are natural “harem builders” and are by wont of their male sex less interested in blowing up a marriage if they have a side piece for fun and relaxation. Men can more easily than women compartmentalize multiple concurrent relationships, and this includes outside flings pursued from within marital confines.

Cheating women, in contrast, have psychological and emotional resistance to maintaining their marital facade when they are fucking around on their husbands or boyfriends. A cheating wife will be more likely to initiate divorce than will a cheating husband, and ironically more likely to do so than the faithful wife of a cheating husband. This is the nature of women influencing our rationalized principles.

The claim that relationships/marriages are more stable when the man has more options than the woman is proven undeniably true simply by dint of the fact that 70% of divorces are initiated by women. Cheating husbands often don’t initiate divorce because, well, two women in the rotation beats one woman on repeat play.

Naturally, given the lop-sided divorce initiation stats, one may wonder if there are more women today than in the past who have, or feel they have, increased sexual market options. Certainly the bulging (heh) obesity epidemic can’t be contributing to American women feeling more full of themselves, but the increasing infantilization and effeminacy of America’s beta boys can certainly convince women to stop and ponder if they have settled too hastily or downwardly.

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This is what happens to childless women when they get old and their wombs turn to dust.

A song is in order to pay tribute to Sarah Silverman’s call for a military coup. Sing along, why don’t you!

Dust in the Womb

(first stanza courtesy of Twatter contributor @DrGarnicus)

I froze my eggs only for a moment, and the moment’s gone
All my queefs pass before my thighs, a curiosity

Dust in the womb, all my eggs are dust in the womb

Same old womb, just a drop of semen and dead ovaries
All you screw finds no fertile ground, except a wizard sleeve

Dust in the womb, all eggs gone to dust in the womb

Now, don’t bang on, cats cannot recover a womb left to die
Eggs slip away, and all your crying won’t a single child buy

Dust in the womb, all you are is dust in the womb (all you are is dust in the womb)
Dust in the womb (every skank has dust for a womb), infertility of the womb (dead womb)

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