Mockery Will Kill The Left

Mockery, and denying leftoid globocorps the ability to do business. And if that combo doesn’t kill the Left, there’s always option #3.

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Meet The CUNDT: Converged, Urban, Narcissistic, Delusional Tubbo

You are about to enter another dimension of the sexual market. A dimension not only of unsightly fat and scolding schoolmarmery, but of repulsive loudmouthed bitterbitches. A journey into a worthless land of self-entitled fat Hillary-loving bitches. Next stop, the Would Not Bang Zone!

Via AutoAdmit, a gem quality thread has coalesced around the story of a fat chick in DC — Jesse Peterson — who was the featured coastal shitlibopolis representative of her swelling species in a Bezos Post Date Lab social experiment designed to prove the pointlessness of pursuing the post-femininity American cow. A couple of AAers put it best,

Date: August 3rd, 2017 9:04 AM
Author: Ozzie Canseco

its incredible how women are all converging to this one horrible personality.

***

Date: August 3rd, 2017 9:06 AM
Author: LTDanCaffey

Titcr.
It’s like all single shrews in major metros are morphing into some hybrid of Sarah Jessica Parker in SitC and the shrew from Eat, Pray, Fuck with some Beyoncé girl power mixed in.

A little background on Jesse, emeritus rider of the cock carousel, courtesy of her About page at her dating blog (aka the place she collates the wretchedness of her personality and will come to regret when she’s 40, unmarried, and sleeping with a small army of cats nestled in her gut folds):

Hey betches,

Welcome to Tinder District! I’m so glad you’re here, even though you may not be able to tell through my chronic RBF.

Afeminine? Check.

My name is J. I’m 23 years old, live in Washington, DC, and by day I do management consulting.

Anti-natalist careercunt? Check.

By night (and weekend), however, I’m a serial dater.

Slut, or pretensions to sluttery? Check.

Since I started this blog in July 2015 (when it was ClarendonTinderDiaries.wordpress.com; really rolls of the tongue, right?),

Grandiose self-conception as a dazzling prose stylist belied by horribly dull writing? Check.

I have been on over 100 first dates.

Unloveable? Check.

Two have turned into relationships (thank God those went nowhere),

Allergic to accountability for her decisions? Check.

many were good, several turned into second and even third dates – but that’s not why I’m here. The thing that keeps me coming back is the bad dates – the ones that turn into a story for me to tell my close friends, future grandchildren, and the entire Internet.

Attention whore? Check.

Oh, and the free drinks and meals. Those also keep me coming back.

Low sexual market value chick unable to date anyone but supplicating beta males who eagerly foot her bill for a chance to pork her oinky trough? Check.

So, welcome, readers! I hope you get a laugh, a nugget of useful life advice, or something new to read while at work contemplating quitting your shitty job.

XOXO,
J

And a recent photo of Jesse, for context in which to place her empty try-hard braggadocio:

She’s a 5 without the insulating layer of blubber, a 2 with it.

Sadly, Jesse is not an outlier. The shitlib cities are filled with CUNDTs like herself: totally converged into the technofemcuntyassqueen man-hating spiteborg, committed to spending their prime nubility years hunting elusive alpha males in the urban junglelove, narcissistic to a degree that would have shocked Narcissus, delusional about their sexual and romantic appeal, and more often than not carrying an extra five or fifty pounds.

Is it any wonder American men have stopped “manning up” and taken nuptial (read: financial) responsibility for these ingrate shoggoths? Women, if you struggle to find a man worthy of your curated and well-marbled self-image, look in the mirror and read the reactions of the world outside your dating blog to your crass behavior and shitty personality. 100 dates in one year? That’s not a banner to wave proudly; it’s a red flag that your goods are rotten.

How obnoxious is this bitch? From her Instawhore:

View this post on Instagram

Internet people, as you may have seen, I was in @washingtonpost Date Lab yesterday. More importantly, my asshole date reneged on our promise to rate each other 3.5 by giving me a 2.7. Well, it's time to share the REAL story of what happened on July 5th at Iron Gate. Head up to the link in my bio to find out exactly what went on 😈 Happy Friday babes!

A post shared by Tinder District (@tinderdistrict) on Aug 4, 2017 at 4:18am PDT

In her words, she had an awful date and hated the man with whom she was paired, yet she still wanted to exploit his graciousness by copping an “appeal deal” with him to rate each other equivalently in the Bezos Post-Op Date Lab story, so that she could continue to look good to her blog audience of aspiring spinsters. Thankfully, our intrepid beta male found an ounce of scrotal juice still circulating in his manhood and rated her lower than the entitled blobster demanded to be rated.

Management consultant Jesse Peterson, 23, describes herself as “just about the friendliest and most outgoing person there is.”

So friendly she hastily pens post-date snarkbait shitting all over the men who buy her drinks.

She also loves working out, bottomless brunch and a slightly dark sense of humor.

Working out => is 40 pounds overweight
Bottomless brunch => boundless bottom
Dark sense of humor => confuses hackneyed sarcasm for humor

I was much more nervous before this date than any Bumble or Tinder date. I’ve been on dates with a few Dans, and all of them were weird.

The fault lies not with the Dans.

We talked about favorite foods — I write a cooking and baking blog.

Avoid unmarried women who are a little too into cooking. That goes double-chinned for women into blogging about cooking.

And I write a dating blog.

If a chick admitted this to me on a first date, I would walk out immediately, no reason given. At the very least, a chick who feels comfortable telling me this doesn’t respect my refined taste in women and unapologetically high standards.

I’m just interested in exploring people and opportunities and dating culture.

Every girl who has told me she’s into “exploring people” was really into exploring herself for the umpteenth time and receiving external validation for it from the people she claims to want to explore. And “opportunities” is just slutspeak for “cockas”.

Dan: I can’t date a vegetarian; I left hungry. I got home and I ordered a turkey leg.

Vegetarian girls are more often fat than thin. That should tell them something, but when the world revolves around them and mirrors are magical devices found only in Harry Potter books, then one could be forgiven for assuming these broads have an intrinsic ability to put 2 and 2 together. Or maybe their concept of vegetarian is “a plate full of greasy fries and a side of pizza”.

I’m not ready for the gawking to end yet. From another dating-is-hell-on-fatties post at her Unloved Fatty blog:

I didn’t particularly care about continuing to talk to Jack, and I also ignore literally all CMB notifications I receive, so I did nothing.

The attention whore loves accumulating dating apps, so she can proudly claim she ignores them all. It would not suffice to simply not have the dating app on the iPhag. She must have it and not have it, grasshopper.

Jack, however, reached out.

“Men want me, they really want me!”

Jack – Want to get margaritas soon?
J – Sure!

So, I sent him my phone number – because anyone who wants to buy me a margarita is a friend of mine.

From its inception, CH has advised men to avoid buying drinks for women. To this day, the advice retains its merit.

It was two full days before I got a message from Jack, but he made up for his tardiness with sweeping romantic apology.
Jack – Hey, this is Jack from that bagel app

Ahh, pure poetry.

Got her attention. (Keep it short and sweet, gentlemen. The ladies love a self-possessed shitlord.)

FYI her blog is filled with those retarded pop culture gifs that women love. They acquire the habit from their gay besties.

We continued talking for a while, including a brief stint in which my friend took over my phone and sent him a long message about the superfood benefits of kale (#bless kale), when our conversation turned to the events we had planned for the weekend.

From the second I saw the ‘Yikes’ I knew something was amiss. But I was unsure what it was at first – did he frown upon the fact that I had not left all signs of neon and tutu back in college? Was he unnerved that I was not spending the weekend reading the latest political novel?

Like most straight men with a T level above 1, he’s disgusted by homosex and by the sassy platitude-spouting libchicks who latch onto the gay glorification gravy train in the hopes of tarting up their social media feeds with more colorful selfies.

All of that would have been better than his response. What do you mean you find it “off-putting”? You are aware you live in a country founded on the right to do all of those things, correct?

“Off-putting” doesn’t mean “deny the right of fag assembly”, you dumb bint.

I pressed on.

She persisted.

Ohhhhhhhh no. OH NO. I considered leaping off the nearest cliff to escape such ignorance.

She would’ve bounced back unscathed.

“inside a social construct decided by other people that doesn’t let you blah blah”…..typical poopytalk from your typical nasty woman. This is why fatties and other undesirable women glom onto social constructivist shitliberalism: the lies provide a handy rationale for explaining away, say, their lack of portion control. The CUNDT’s dating woes are never her fault; it’s always “men” or “douchebags” or “bigots” or “Trump supporters” or “society”.

She then feverishly texts Jack the Shitlord to “put him in his place”, and what she imagines as an epic BTFO of her antagonist just comes across like a butthurt fatty going well out of her way to make some stupid political point lost in the noise of her emotional incontinence.

HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE.

STOP IT RIGHT NOW.

YOU THINK PEOPLE ‘LIKE PLAYING THE VICTIM‘?

LITERALLY GET THE FUCK OUT.

Was Trayvon Martin ‘playing the victim’ when he was killed in an ethnic hate crime?

Surprise, a conformist GoodWhite plays the Saint Trayvon card! Newsflash, fatty, Trayvon pounced on Zimmerman the Hispanic hero and in the commission of his assault and battery received a load of lead in return. Tray Tray got his just desserts.

Were the 49 lives lost in the Orlando Pulse Nightclub massacre ‘playing the victim’ when their lives were unjustly ripped from them in a homophobic hate crime?

Funny, she forgot to mention that the Pulse gayclub killer was a Muslim.

Was I, or any other victim of sexual assault, PLAYING THE FUCKING VICTIM when we were raped, had our self-worth and self-confidence, not to mention ability to trust and, I don’t know, ability to sleep through the night without having a panic attack, STRIPPED FROM US BY A MAN WHO DID NOT KNOW HOW TO TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER?

Ten to one she was never raped.
One hundred to one if she was raped, it was by a black guy.
One thousand to one her conception of “rape” is really an ego-assuaging morning after regret rape rationalization for throwing herself at yet another garbage hour loser.

I was outraged. I would have killed him right then, if my insurance covered it.

The only thing you’re killing fatty is a plate of donuts.

Instead, I put him on blast in the betchiest way I know how

Shitlib women crave putting wrongthinkers “on blast”, and announcing their declared victory in war to whomever will listen. They’re like George Costanza thinking up a comeback zinger well after the moment has passed. It’s pure humiliation gotcha fantasy, a pageantry of the ego without substance, meant in the retelling to impress a very stupid and dull coterie of equally LSMV rejects more accustomed to getting ignored by high quality men than to putting those unattainable men in their places.

– by saying I felt sorry for him, using his own words against him, and turning the tables around.

I’m sure he was utterly destroyed by your lethal psy ops campaign.

He continued to not see the error of his ways and be the literal worst.

Resentful woman unable to convince man to cater to her feelz has literal meltdown in ASCII.

I’m out. I’m done! I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t handle humans or fuckboys or ignorance or Trump or anything that’s not at least 13% ABV or laced with THC.

This is the mewling of a woman who has experienced failure after failure in her search for a boyfriend. Naturally, she blames Trump.

So, fam, if you encounter an ignorant fuckboy along the lines of Jack, just remember that the best solution is to screenshot the conversation and put the entire thing in your Snapchat story and on the internet. Because, friends, it happens to the best of us.

So, fellow cundts, if you encounter a man who won’t tolerate your vapid lib bullshit and grating personality, just remember that the best solution is to publicly broadcast your private conversations with him in the hope that you’ll inspire a chorus of sympathetic losers to cheerlead your self-immolation and validate your desire to humiliate those who won’t feed your egotistical, self-absorbed, status striving herdthink.

The final word on the CUNDT and her species of post-America millennial woman:

they pair up with modern genderless shitlib males and get into those punching bag relationships where the wife is in the driver seat so both of their lives just sort of end up doing donuts, swerving into oncoming traffic, etc. if they have money they end up brunching and biking a lot and talking about global warming and refugees and rescue dogs. the woman becomes mean and haggard and a public nuisance and the man just looks at the floor a lot. looks like hell but tons of men jump right into it early and never reassess.

Good news. The Reassessing has begun. DOTR has a new meaning, and shitlib femcunt fatties will be hardest hit.

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Voldemort Did Nothing Wrong

Shitlibs are emotionally stunted escapists. If you imbibe any social media (rohypnol for the soul), you’ll notice that libs can’t stop feverishly drawing analogies between their favorite English Lit 301 book, Harry Potter, and Trumperica. So it is with tremendous relish that I forward this /pol/ meme that brilliantly satirizes the lib religious devotion to the Potter gooniverse while making an insightful point about the self-destructiveness of leftoid equalism.

After Voldemort is defeated and global wizard equality is achieved, the influx of half-breeds and less-capable wizards into Hogwarts and other magical schools grows dramatically. Criticisms of this change are met with accusations of bigotry, including calls of “you are starting to sound a lot like You Know Who with that talk!” This process continues, with miscegenation becoming “all the rage” for the next hundred years.

By the year 2100, magical bloodlines have become so diluted that very few people can actually use magic. Magical creatures find that they cannot communicate with students at school, wands begin to refuse ownership, and tensions rise as “pure” students begin to unite. The fear of a return to the Dark Days is still strong, and those critics who raise concerns over the decline in quality and use of magic are called “bigots” for their anti-muggleblood views.

In more progressive circles, prominent “intellectual” wizards begin to suggest that magic doesn’t really exist — not objectively, anyway. It is merely a social construct, and witchcraft and wizardry can manifest themselves in many different forms, most of which don’t involve the use of magic at all. This is met with great approval by the majority of muggleborns, though there is still discontent among those who continue to  actually use magic “correctly”.

To combat growing discontent, the Ministry of Magic decrees that “flagrant displays of magic” are now illegal on school grounds, as this can result in prejudice and feelings of unwelcomeness for muggleborn witches and wizards, who are utterly incapable of casting spells (even those who manage to keep wands). The school removes most of it’s “applied magic” curriculum, instead replacing it with “Justice-Oriented Magic” and “Muggleborn Studies”, which focus on present-day social issues and the various expressions of “Alternative Magic” that are popular at the time, such as Ouija boards, Tarot cards, and divination of palms and tea-leaves.

Please forward this post to every arrested development adult shitlib you know, for maximum triggering. The goal here should be mass suicide.

A Gabber adds, chillingly,

Cute, right?

Ok, now replace magic with engineering.

Not so cute now, is it?

There’s nothing cute about the wholesale destruction shitlibbery and cuckdom are visiting upon the White West.

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The Corruption Of The White Westerner Foundation Myth

Freelance Comment of the Week winner is Emblematic, for this dazzling gem of an insight into the transmogrification of the White Westerner foundation myth from a positive to a negative one.

John Derbyshire wonders why Europeans are so susceptible to guilt. One explanation is that all cultures have a foundation myth that tells them who they are, and the foundation myth of modern Europeans is a negative one.

How do you recognise a foundation myth? It fulfils three functions.

1)It explains the origin and structure of the world (and society).
2)It defines ultimate good and evil (and from those definitions are derived the values that are used to justify the holding of power).
3)It determines what is held sacred in that society.

For modern Westerners the story of WWII has become their foundation myth. It fulfils all three functions.

1)We live in the ‘Post-War World’. The lines on the map, the institutions, the sense of what era we live in, all arise from the starting point of WWII.

2)Ultimate evil is Nazis. Ultimate good is opposing Nazis. The values derived from these definitions are anti-racism, equality, diversity, anti-nationalism and so on.

3)The only thing that is held sacred, that cannot be denied or mocked in the contemporary West, is the Holocaust.

The problem is that all three functions are backwards or negative.

Instead of the origin event being one of fertility and new life, it was a conflagration of death and destruction.

Instead of ultimate good taking the central position in the story that slot is occupied by ultimate evil. Everyone knows that Adolf Hitler, the personification of evil, holds the centre point of the WWII story.

Instead of that which is held sacred being something mysterious and sublime it (the Holocaust) is an obscenity.

Having a negative foundation myth means the tree of life for Westerners is poisoned. People don’t realise it but the bounds of allowable thought and the orientation of ideas are all downstream from the myth of the society. As long as our understanding of who we are is determined by this negative foundation myth the only direction is down.

The power of mythology (in modren globocorporate terms, of ad branding) is no trivial thing. Lose your founding myth, and you lose your identity. What has happened to White Westerners is worse: we have not just lost our identity but have been shackled to a new identity, a corrosive and malignant identity that threatens to subsume us in self-annihilationism. We have our new founding mythology, and it requires endless sacrifice with no hope of glory. How fucking depressing. And womanly.

A jewish buddy once brazenly joshed to me that “the jews have so much money we have a holocaust museum in every American city”. It’s gevalt ’cause it’s true. There’s a holocaust museum or holocaust memorial in a lot of US cities, small or large, which you will stumble upon if you visit long enough. Even small town America, jewish population 0%, has holocaust memorials scattered about. Why the fuck does America have to sanctify holocaust remembrance? It didn’t happen here, Americans had no knowledge of nor participation in it. Yet we bend the collective knee to its awesome allure and pay our shamegeld to its rabbinic overseers.

The subtext of my buddy’s joking revelation was that the prime function of holocaustianity isn’t memorialization, it’s the flexing of power. His tribe’s power.

And, unlike Europe, holocaustianity isn’t America’s first or foremost negative foundational neomyth. That honor goes to slavery and the Civil War, the origin and structure of the negative myth. The South, the ultimate evil. Lincoln, the sacred figure. It all coalesces into a new civic religion to give de-Christianized SWPL libshit Whites the opportunity to feel the divine pull of a higher calling.

So Heritage America is getting socked with two negative foundational myths while at the same time dispossession and redaction of the real, positive American mythic figures continues apace.

It would be tragic if it weren’t demonic.

This is why ZFG shitlords, dindu nuffin memesters, and JIDF-spotting trolls are doing the White God’s work. By crushing through mockery the negative founding myths and its sacrosanct centerpieces holocaustianity and racial guilt, White Westerners can begin to reclaim their glorious heritage and the Truth and Beauty it embodies. Faster, please.

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Soft Skin In The Game

Western Civilization will continue its long-term downward spiral until the sexual market rebalances to a pre-poz norm in which women paid a social and marital price for attention whoring and cock carouseling. As Taleb might put it, women must have “soft skin in the game”, or they won’t accurately assess sexual and marriage market risks and will play with reckless abandon.

Removing all constraints on female sexuality while maximally restricting male sexuality is the exact opposite of soft skin in the game. It strips consequences from female behavior while burdening beta males with higher costs and smaller rewards.

I thought of this while relaying the story about the tennis pro thot who whores for attention on Instawhore and is shocked, shocked she tells you that so many millions of thirsty beta males now follow her to fap to her every bosom-thrust selfie.

Commenter T: if you want to read some seriously disingenuous horseshit, check out this:

http://www.golf.com/knockdown/2017/02/01/paige-spiranac-unfiltered-how-power-social-media-set-controversial-golf-star-soaring

sample:

In a culture that worships beauty, Spiranac has hit the genetic lottery: luscious golden hair, sparkling blue eyes, porcelain skin and a figure curvier than 17 Mile Drive. But she has always had a complicated relationship with her appearance, going back to a traumatic childhood beset by physical maladies. From the moment she became an accidental Instagram sensation, she has been objectified on a global scale. Ever since, Spiranac has been fighting to regain control of her sense of self. Her reaction to the first rush of Internet fame, in the summer of 2015, remains instructive: “I’ll never forget the day the craziness began,” says her mother, Annette. “She was getting thousands of new Instagram followers every hour. We were visiting my husband’s relatives and Paige was in her room, laying on the floor in a fetal position, crying. She kept saying, ‘I don’t know why this is happening. I’m so scared.’ You’re talking about a girl who has always been shy and introverted. She simply couldn’t process the attention.”

So Paige is a pathological liar as well as attention whore. Great combo in a wife! /sarcasm. Because as we all must know, taking erotic selfies with a huge shit-eating come hither smirk and deliberately posting them to social media is exactly the expressiveness one would expect from a shy and introverted woman utterly perplexed that she has horny Instagram followers. /Dcupsarcasm. “fetal position” lol that her pr agent/mom expects us to believe this load of spin.

No soft skin in the game means girls are liable to make the same mistakes over and over. Without honest social feedback and costs to pay for making bad decisions, girls will even lose the ability to know when they are diminishing their asset value.

Current Year girls with no soft skin in the game are blissfully unaware of the disgust they inspire in men when they casually mention past bad relationships with assholes, as Paige did when she admitted in print, and thus to her fiance, that before she met him she had had a lot of Netflix and chill fuck sessions in which she demanded no payment in nuptial servitude from her lovers. The Slut Life + the Thirst Life have become so ingrained in US culture — in assertion if not in actual practice — that displeasing men is an autonomic twitch in women.

I know one thot who casually bragged to a man she had been dating for a month that she went through so many men in the past year that her expectations sky-rocketed and he should be proud he made the grade. She said this as if it would open new and exciting conversational avenues to accelerate their bonding process. It ended two weeks later.

Skankitude has consequences, even for hotties like Paige. They may be subtle consequences, but they exist. (For instance, beta hubby will over the years show her increasing disrespect and contempt). I’ve seen it happen. The contempt comes pre-wall, intensifying with the years. Little slights to which women are acutely sensitive coming from men start to add up, like emotional distancing, verbal snapping, and spiteful innuendo. And let’s not forget that hot sloots are also more likely to abandon their marriages to beta chumps, which hurts the sloots as well since women have exponentially more difficulty in the dating market after age 25.

Wives or girlfriends with slutty pasts (and a predilection for present day attention whoring) tend to lose their men’s adoration. The hotter the thot, the slower the adoration erosion, but nevertheless it persists. Whatever system was in place to remind women in so many grandmotherly words of wisdom of these unpleasant realities is gone now, and the Instawhore id is out of her cage, hungry for empty calories. The end game isn’t pretty: the death of romance and the corruption of love.

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Ten Years Of The Manosphere

I’m not given to retrospectives (mortality reminders are a buzzkill), but this reader’s email deftly describes the incredible cultural influence of the internet realtalk revolution collectively known as the manosphere, a loose affiliation of men who, cutting to the pith of it, were tired of pretty lies and wanted the ugly truths. The manosphere itself was a child of seduction forums, where men actively trying to crack the code of female attraction would share ideas, with all the SJW and PC window dressing stripped clean. They were the proto-shitlords of their day, uninterested in virtue signaling or status whoring for the benefit of admittance to polite company. The manosphere later expanded and fed a whole new vocabulary and theoretical framework to dissident factions like the alt-right, /pol/, Frog Twatter, and neoreaction. (Even MPC, no friend of the PUA life, has a thread titled “Examples of Beta Male Faggotry”. The lure of realtalk, no matter the source, is irresistible to iconoclasts and modern heretics).

What started as a get laid guild became the greatest unleashing of rhetorical and memetic testosterone in modern American history. Cucks, shitlibs, manlets, fatties, and feminists were swept aside by this tsunami of refocused and revitalized T, particularly of the White man’s T. The question remains whether the manosphere’s Frankenbeans monster — their testicular shiv of the bloated and sclerotic Lords of Lies — has achieved apotheosis in President Donald J Trump, or if there are bigger and ballsier reckonings to come.

Message I sent to someone that may be of interest:

One funny thing about the game guys. They are empiricists because they wanted to meet women and, as CH puts it, get love and sex. It is really wrong to say it is just about getting the rocks off. They really wanted girlfriends, too, but the girls of today are all too often damaged goods. But to do any of that they had to overcome a lot of lies and programming, and even learn new vocabulary, and be hardcore realists and empiricists. Only facing reality and facing the truth about men and women would get the girl back to the crib and get the panties off. No emotion-protecting lies will do it. And over the decade or so this conversation has been going on, the habit of being hardcore realists and empiricists has spread into all areas of thinking and acting. And also the guys involved in the conversation are maturing. Ten years is a long time in any human life, especially from the 20s into the 30s and beyond. So ingesting the red pill was like a magic potion that was supposed to make you into a mighty poon-slayer, and it worked! But the magic was far more powerful than anyone dreamed. And it kept working and all kinds of new powers kept emerging until the initial thing became secondary to the larger goal of living a life aligned with reality, which may even mean moderating the demand for female bodies, as nice as they can be, and as necessary as they sometimes seem to be.

Strange to have been watching this from the sidelines all these years.

No one would have predicted how it has played out so far.

“A life aligned with reality”. A government aligned with reality. A nation aligned with reality.

That is the manospherian Realtalk Revolution’s legacy, and it is as Beautiful as it is Truthful. Instructions for a life well lived inevitably became a warning and a remedy to a society rapidly draining its life force in the abattoir of anti-reality. The Virtue Snivelers can deny reality, but reality will always belie their denials.

And ironically, I don’t consider the Chateau a “manosphere” outpost. I don’t know what I’d label this place, but “manosphere” seems too constricting. I’ll call it what it has meant to its many guests and wanderers: A rejuvenating retreat from a mad world, and a beacon to those who feel like strangers in their own land and time. The best description may be in how you leave this place, rather than in how you came to it: as purposeful and impassioned men.

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Enlightened College Students Are Disgusted By Interracial Relationships

Disgust is a wonderful emotion. It’s a spontaneous transmission from the ganglia that acts as a palimpsest revealing our truest thoughts in unguarded moments. Three cheers for those shitlords with low disgust thresholds, for they have brushed aside the clutter of media propaganda and social expectation and seen the face of God in the sanctums of their own minds.

What has the science of disgust illuminated in this Year of Our Lord Trump?

Straight men are as disgusted by gay men kissing as they are by squirming maggots.

But maybe that ugly truth wasn’t ugly enough for your burnt-out thrill-seeking receptors? Maybe you forwarded the above post to your Faceborg shitlib friends and all you got was blocked. You wanted more. Like mass suicides. OK, how about this latest science shiv:

Putatively liberal and open-minded (and mostly White) college students are disgusted by the sight of interracial couples. Quoting from a synopsis of the research at Phys Org:

[N]ew research from the University of Washington suggests that reported acceptance of interracial marriage masks deeper feelings of discomfort—even disgust—that some feel about mixed-race couples. Published online in July in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology and co-authored by UW postdoctoral researcher Caitlin Hudac, the study found that bias against interracial couples is associated with disgust that in turn leads interracial couples to be dehumanized. […]

The research involved three experiments. In the first, 152 college students were asked a series of questions about relationships, including how disgusted they felt about various configurations of interracial relationships and about their own willingness to have an interracial romance. The participants overall showed high levels of acceptance and low levels of disgust about interracial relationships, and pointed to a strong negative correlation between the two.

In the second experiment, the researchers showed 19 undergraduate students wedding and engagement photos of 200 interracial and same-race couples while recording their neural activity. The researchers asked the students to quickly indicate whether each couple should be included in a future study on relationships, a task that was intended to ensure participants were socially evaluating the couples while their neural activity was recorded.

Participants responded faster to images of same-race couples and selected them more often for inclusion in the study. More significantly, Skinner said, participants showed higher levels of activation in the insula—an area of the brain routinely implicated in the perception and experience of disgust—while viewing images of interracial couples.

“That indicates that viewing images of interracial couples evokes disgust at a neural level,” Skinner said.

It’s inborn and natural to be disgusted by interracial couples! Bill Nye should do a children’s special on this research and have a skype comedienne sing a song about it with her vagina. “NO BLACK STUFF FOR THIS SACRED MUFF ONLY KOSHER WHITE WILL DO ME RIGHT!” *picks up Emmy nom*

Participants were quicker to associate interracial couples with non-human animals and same-race couples with humans.

That suggests that interracial couples are more likely to be dehumanized than same-race couples, the researchers write, and previous studies have shown that people tend to exhibit more antisocial behavior and are more likely to use aggression and even violence toward dehumanized targets.

Taken together, the experiments show that despite high levels of reported acceptance, bias against mixed-race couples persists in the United States, the researchers say.

That revealed versus disclosed preference is a bitch, ain’t it shitlibs?

Such sentiments, Skinner said, belie the notion that most Americans are ready to embrace mixed-race romance.

Le Chateau has been gleefully belying shitlibboleths since its inception.

“Some people are still not comfortable with interracial relationships, or at least they’re a lot less comfortable than they would appear to be,” she said. “Acknowledging these biases is the first step to figuring out why people feel that way and determining what can be done so they won’t.”

Ah the totalitarian impulse of your garden variety social scientist femme. You have BadThoughts, so it’s off to the Neural Reconfiguration Camp with you until you think like we do! Or rather, until you think like we like to think we think, but really don’t and have learned the good sense to keep those dirty thoughts deeply suppressed thanks in part to the yeomanlet efforts of our inherited snazzy verbal IQs.

Why do people have to be taught/whipped/lobotomized to stop feeling disgust for interracial couples? Why is that the immediate assumption, instead of the saner and more humane reaction that we shouldn’t force people to deny their true feelings which have been a part of the human emotional template since time immemorial?

Disgust obviously serves a useful purpose if evolution has seen fit to keep us equipped with its powerful instinctual leverage over our real world mating decisions. Just spitballing here, but maybe we feel disgust at the sight of interracial couples because we crave aesthetic continuity, cultural familiarity, and social connectedness, and all these things which bring us closer to the heart have as their provenance the pairing of similar genes, which we perceive through the proxy of race?

Maybe…..oh I know I’m going out on a limb here….but juuuuuust maybe…..all of us envision having children WHO LOOK LIKE US, and the sepia-hued sprog of interracial couples — produced by the weirdly discomfiting commingling of disparate lip and nose and eye and cheek flush and Weltanshauung — violate that intense yearning in us for a shimmeringly congruous lineage. A line of love extending back in time, through the present, and out into the future….a Beauty incomparable, surviving unimaginable odds. No wonder we are disgusted by the notion of rupturing that line in an instant for a FUCK YOU DAD momentary expulsion of spite.

Is that so bad? (Rhetorical, it’s not.)

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