The Crisis Of Supportive Beta Husbands

A hot if somewhat mannish-looking female teacher is in court on charges of “raping” one of her students during their months-long sexual adventure.

A teacher is accused of sodomizing a middle school student and raping him during their alleged months-long sexual relationship.

Lindsey Jarvis, 27, pleaded not guilty to two counts of rape at the Fayette County Courthouse in Kentucky, where she held hands with her husband of three years.

She was also charged with rape, sodomy and unlawful transaction with a minor in neighboring Woodford County, where she was accused of sexually assaulting the boy in May 2016.

Police found evidence on the victim’s phone suggesting the two were in a ‘romantic relationship’, and Jarvis was arrested on Friday.

If you’ve heard this story before too many times to count, you’re not going crazy; sexual predation by female teachers, many of them hot and married, of their young (and usually willing) charges is rampant in America, FOR SOME ODD REASON. (Hint: it’s the leftoid glorification of unconstrained female sexuality and the concomitant demonization of normal male sexuality and patriarchal prerogative, plus various r-selected biofeedback loops that accompany declining cultures in the throes of late stage decadence.)

You can tell by the psychocunt smirk in her mugshot she expertly summoned like a seasoned PUA that there was no adult alpha man in her life who could stand up and answer the call, “Who bitch dis is?“. On paper, she was her husband’s bitch. On paper. In reality, she was no one’s bitch, to the detriment of society.

Never rely on legal documents to secure a woman’s love. You can only win her heart in the supreme court of her raging id.

But the black heart of this sordid tryst — the essence that tells you everything you need to know about why she did it and why she’s smirking — isn’t in Lindsey Jarvis, Wonderslut. It’s in Lindsey Jarvis’s lapdog, her dutiful, supportive husband.

Lindsey Jarvis, 27, pleaded not guilty to two counts of rape at the Fayette County Courthouse in Kentucky, where she held hands with her husband of three years

There’s a time to hold your wife’s hand, and that time is NOT when she’s in court for fucking and tickling the anus of one of her underage students for months on end.

(Who, by the looks of her, will probably go right back to livin’ la vida alpha fux beta bux once she’s out of jail (one month)).

Their body and facial language is a thin palimpsest barely concealing two rotten souls — hers rotten with wantonness, his rotten with appeasement. That’s a married couple in complete sexual polarity reversal, defying the God of Biomechanics with arrogant impunity. She’s the alpha male, here, looking into the middle distance, thinking of some other male, head tilted away from her doting husband who, for his part, must reach across her lap to take her hand, his eyes downcast in submission and supplication, probably fighting back a gnawing fear of her hot body and BPD love leaving his life forever (even though he never really had unrestricted access to her body and heart, but just try telling ARE MARRIED BETA MALE that, and he’ll suddenly find a reason to passionately defend his manly honor.)

“But he’s innocent in this!”, you poon plebs shriek ignorantly. No, friendos, he’s not innocent. He’s an enabler. A force ten amplifier of the crassest female instincts and tramp malice. America is suffering a crisis of these “supportive” beta male husbands who stand by their cheating slut wives, bearing for themselves all the shame and responsibility that should be the sole domain of their faithless women.

You think a beta phagg like Lindsey’s Lapdog just started being supportive now, in Lindsey’s time of greatest need? Ha, no. This doormat was born supportive, a human toilet seat upon which the world’s whores would sit to pinch their cock-impacted loafs embedded with the crusty cum of secret lovers, knowing all too clearly that a pushover like this milquetoast will take those steaming slut deuces and beg for more.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but women are DISGUSTED by indiscriminately supportive males. Look closely at Lindsey’s face in the second photo; that’s disgust mixed with contempt amid a swirl of illicit yearning. No man who’s had experience with more than one or two women would miss the meaning in that face. And no man worth his dignity and salvageable serum T level would unconditionally “support” a cheating wife who seethed with that much resentment for him. He’d tell her to hit the road, face first, and be glad he was rid of her for the rest of his life.

Unquestioning beta male support is ruining our women. It’s as simple as that. Beta thirst kills feminine virtue dead. Manginatude frees the Inner Whore in every woman.

If women, especially spoken-for women, don’t fear consequences for indulging every sexual compulsion (and women have many, often contradicting, sexual compulsions), then they won’t curb themselves. Women are not natural self-regulators; they require a strong pimp hand to avoid descent into womb wilding, whether that pimp hand comes in the form of a dominant alpha male or a dominant patriarchal culture.

Instead, America’s men are caught in a spiral of self-abnegation and slavish pussy pedestal polishing. Witness:

On her 25th birthday, husband Andrew Jarvis paid tribute to his wife, writing: ‘Happy 25th birthday to my sweetest Lindsey!

‘So thankful for your wonderful heart, which teaches me so much about compassion and kindness.

‘So thankful for your wisdom and discernment that help guide us through life….Love you with all my heart, and so thankful to have you as my best friend.’

First mistake: a wife or gf should never be a man’s “best friend”. His lover, his confidant, his alibi, his accomplice, his lolita, his sex toy, sure. But not his best friend. That cloying admission reeks of neediness and uxuriousness, and sucks all the romantic lifeblood out of what should be a sexually dichotomous relationship. Women don’t want a best friend for a husband; they want a lover and a king.

Second mistake: penning this treacle at all. He could have done so much more for his cause, meaning his sex life and future paternity certainty, had he sent her this instead on her birthday:

I’d like to end on a hopeful note. How do we solve the crisis of supportive beta husbands and boyfriends enabling the worst sort of female animal behavior?

My suggestion, one I’ve been proselytizing for a while, to no avail apparently as we can see the population of supplicating betas grows year over year, is….hold your breath….Game. If beta males gained the skills of the crimson arts and had more choice in women, or at least perceived that they had more choice in women, the confidence instilled in them would stream outward and fill the hearts and Bartholin’s corpuscles of the women in their lives, and a big beautiful mutually reinforcing limbic synchronization that aligned with the ancient biomechanic laws of sexual polarity would draw man and woman closer together, and those wild cockscillations that undulate darkly in the vajfold crevices of every woman threatening to crumble heartbridges would be calmed.

Or, having options in women, beta males would at least be more emotionally continent about their choice of long-term mate and be more willing to jettison those women who don’t make the grade.

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Decoupling Feminine Virtue From Feminine Status: The Emerging Gynarchy

Tarl Cabot had a very insightful comment about present-day Globalist Girls while responding to and countering weev’s argument that the Northern barbarians were proto-feminist beta male schlubs who turned their culture into Girls Gone Wild.

Tacitus contradicts weev (probably why he didn’t quote him). According to him, the Germans were fanatics about the chastity of their women. Female status in Teutonic society was determined by virginity before marriage and maternity after. Provided women lived by those two virtues, they had significant respect and even some influence, more so than in other societies.

The problem with the modern western woman is that we have decoupled those feminine virtues from feminine status. Her rights are divorced from her responsibilities. Probably the birth control pill is to blame more than any other factor: it lowered the social cost of harlotry, and opened female minds (and legs) to the blandishments of ashkepathic nihilism.

The decoupling of the feminine virtues (principally Virginity/Chastity/Modesty and Maternity/Fidelity/Selflessness) from feminine status restates the observations contained in the classic CH writings on the subject of the “Six Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse“.

Le Chateau was on top of all this years ago, when we proposed a sea change in the American cultural landscape heralded by the coming of the Four Five Six Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse:

1. Effective and widely available contraceptives (the Pill, condom, and the de facto contraceptive abortion).
2. Easy peasy no-fault divorce.
3. Women’s economic independence (hurtling towards women’s economic advantage if the college enrollment ratio is any indication).
4. Rigged feminist-inspired laws that have caused a disincentivizing of marriage for men and an incentivizing of divorce for women.
5. Penicillin (reduced the cost of contracting STDs)
6. Widely available hardcore porn.

I added numbers five and six to the list of Sexual Apocalypse Sirens, because they seem to me just as important to understanding how the sexual market changed in the last fifty or so years.

So, a crib sheet of quippy replies if you ever need it to send a feminist or manboob howling with indignation:

1. The Pill
2. No-fault divorce
3. Working women
4. Man-hating feminism
5. Penicillin
6. Porn

Toss into a social salad bowl already brimming with an influx of non-European immigrants thanks to the 1965 soft genocide act, mix thoroughly, and voila!: a huge, inexorable, relentless leftward shift in American politics, an explosion of single moms, wage stagnation, government growth, upper class childlessness, lower class dysgenics, and a creaking, slow deterioration in the foundational vigor of the nation and the gutting of the pride of her people.

It takes two to tango.

For the single ladies…

Virginity
Chastity
Modesty

…characterize the feminine virtues inextricably linked with High Civilization.

And for the married women…

Maternity
Fidelity
Selflessness

…are the feminine virtues of a healthy society.

Civilized society accords single and married women feminine status if they adhere to the above virtues. The decline occurs when civilized society, assisted by reproduction thwarting technologies and virginity thwarting social permissiveness, continues according women the rewards of feminine status without the responsibilities of feminine virtue.

There’s a word for that behavior-reward cycle disruption: nihilism.

And when the cost-free rewards are granted to women alone while men are still admonished to keep up their end of the bargain as responsible contributors to society, the word is: gynarchy.

The modern West, with America representing the tip of the degenerate spear, is reconstituting itself into a borg of gynarchies, ruled by a brigade of bulldykes and consortium of emotional sluts overseen by their globohomo male handlers, served dutifully by a supporting cast of effete manginas, dopey white knights, and thirsty beta males.

Hard men bring good times.
Good times bring soft men.
Soft men bring hard times.
Hard times bring hard men.

Now add women to this aphorismic cycle:

Dads and damsels bring good times.
Good times bring cads and tramps.
Cads and tramps bring hard times.
Hard times bring dads and damsels.

America and her satellite White European source pools are currently in Stage 3 of this civilization-primitivism cycle: Cads and tramps are bringing hard times, and we’re not likely to escape this cycle before seeing it through to its chaotic, bloody end. Then hard times will usher the return of the masculine and feminine polarities and sex-based virtues in Stage 4, when our Western Civ is restored to its former glory…..or ultimately destroyed to make way for a worthy inheritor.

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Idle Thought Of The Day

Is the social media “Like” button the most insidious force in the West today? Discuss.

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Physiognomy Is Real: Punch A Marxist Edition

Leftoid dweebs posing as tough guys (“just say that to my face, fucker” *dribbles Mountain Dew and semen from his chin*) are all over Twatter flexing their Fake Muscles about the Alexandria assassination attempt of GOP Congressmen by a mainstream Democrat voter with bad aim. One such poindexter is Malcolm Harris:

Let’s have a closer look at Malcolm Harris’ physiognomy.

That’s not a T-shirt, it’s his underwear pulled up to his neck…..by a girl.

Physiognomy is real, alert #2: Is Harris a mystery matzo?

As usual, the online venom of a leftoid nümale doesn’t match the defanged piehole. Or in this case, cockhole.

ROBERT SAPOLSKY: PHYSIOGNOMY IS REAL – Even when judging competence isn’t the goal, looks influence whom we vote for. This too isn’t totally irrational, as studies in a number of countries show that ***people can identify liberals versus conservatives at above-chance levels merely by seeing their faces***. – Robert M. Sapolsky is a professor of neuroscience at Stanford University.

After Richard Spencer got (feebly) clocked at the Inauguration protests by an antifa drone, a knitting club of lefty keyboard warriors latched their vaginas onto the “punch a Nazi” meme. (John Scalzied was a prime offender, given to reposting old comic book cells of Nazis getting punched, seemingly oblivious to the fact that women also got slapped a lot in those vintage comic books he masturbates to).

Never mind using logic on the Left; to argue with them that violently opposing free speech is a betrayal of their stated principles is a pointless endeavor. Instead, tell them that their “punch a Nazi” meme was an incitement to violence that encouraged Bernieboomer Hodgkinson to shoot up a ball field of Republican Congressmen. Then tell them you’re starting a crowd-sourced “Punch a Marxist” movement. What’s good for the goon….

Could you imagine this slump-shouldered marxist goober getting cold-cocked? (Yes, all the time.) That 90 pound porn whore antifa chick from Berkeley could send Harris to the ground with a stiff pinky finger (up his anus, he hopes).

PS Harris has claimed he’s a full-time writer for Esssra Klein’s Vox (Juicebox Emporium), a claim which the Vox menschlets have had to disavow repeatedly over the last two days. The effect is to keep Vox in the defensive crouch where, like with women, submissiveness is born. Keeping the Left on the defensive should be in the Rules for Reformed Cucks handbook. Trolling opportunities abound; I can envision armies of maul-righters penning parodies of leftist rhetoric and by-lining it with short bios claiming to be full-time writers for a major leftoid publication, like the Washington Bezos. Good times!

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The Amoral Left: Far Left-Wing Extremist Bernieboomer Guns Down Republicans, Egged On By Leftist Big Media

The Left has never stood on the high moral ground they claim for themselves. That was always a ruse. The Left is amoral; a consortium of ugly, lying destroyers of White civilization who will say whatever is necessary, and when that fails execute whoever is necessary, to reach their ends, which is total power for themselves.

Compare and contrast Leftist reactions.

Evidence locker A:

Rep. Gabrielle Giffords’ blood is on Sarah Palin’s hands after putting cross hair over district

Here is what Sarah Palin said on the Facebook page where she depicted Gabrielle Giffords in the cross hairs of a rifle scope: “Don’t retreat! Instead – RELOAD!”

Well, the guy who shot Giffords yesterday managed to keep firing until he killed six, including a child, and wounded 13 .

Palin would no doubt say that she was only speaking in metaphor, that she only meant her followers should work to unseat Giffords and 19 other Democrats who had roused her ire by voting for health care.

But anyone with any sense at all knows that violent language can incite actual violence, that metaphor can incite murder. At the very least, Palin added to a climate of violence.

Evidence locker B:

Left-Wing Twitter Celebrates Shooting of Rep. Scalise [UPDATED]

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***

Welly well, isn’t that interesting? When a leftoid icon is targeted, every Republican and White American is responsible for creating a “climate of hate” that “incites violence”, but when a baseball field full of GOP Congressmen are deliberately targeted by a beta loser Trump-hating Bernieboomer incited to violence by the deluge of anti-Trump hate and lies spewing forth from the Gaystream Media 24/7, that’s just desserts for the victims.

Leftoids always psychologically project their own tendencies to violence and neuroses onto others. The “climate of hate” and “incitements to violence” that leftoids decry as representative of the Right have been standard operating procedure for the Left for decades, only recently intensifying to a level that one could historically compare to social tensions that existed just prior the (first) Civil War. But the Leftoid Equalism island of misfiring droids is relentlessly on the offense, never playing defense, because they know deep in their twisted black hearts that they boil with malice and fantasies of domination and that they are the monsters of their fever dreams. If they give one neuron over to an honest self-assessment, they lay open the pulsing fleshy center of their anti-White ids to vivisection by those they have never stopped tormenting.

Right wing violence in America is almost always a reaction to these Leftoid depredations and amorality. One thing I can tell you is that the US has been in an extended White and (((white)))-on-White civil war since the first one, barring a relative time of comity and stability in the mid-20th Century. A pressure cooker eventually blows if steam isn’t released, and I don’t see any member of the ruling class or the propaganda organs of the globohomo elitists interested in releasing steam. Just the opposite.

The Equalist Left is a malevolent will to untrammeled power, an expression of raw hatred, and a beast with an unquenchable thirst for humiliating their enemies. Their high-minded professed ideals are merely rhetorical tools to gain them power and relish the crushing of anyone who dares to fight back.

Cucks who insist on opposing the Left with recourse to their stately “principles” will always ALWAYS lose to an enemy for whom principles are nothing more than expedient rationalizations that can be altered at will to serve their cause. Some cucks are starting to WAKE UP and fight the Left on the same battlefield the Left has played on for decades…the field of total war and limitless chaos. Once the Left is defeated, and only then, can cucks return to abiding their cherished principles. Not before.

PS Tariq Nasheed, you have to go back to the blighted homeland of your ancestors. This is not a request. It is a demand.

PPS The gunman, James Hodgkinson (now deceased), must be the worst shot in the world. Apparently this loser loaded and reloaded multiple times, had ten minutes to work with, fired off 50-100 rounds, and could only manage to lodge a bullet in one Congressman’s hip and lightly injure of couple of others in the area before security service agents took him out. We can conclude Berniebros aren’t ready for Civil War 2 prime time.

PPPS Recently there was a terror attack in our nation’s Swamp. Two cops and a bystander were intentionally run down by Brandon Figures-Mormom driving a pickup truck, mimicking a spate of recent attacks by muslim terrorists throughout the West. The story has mysteriously gotten very little page space or airtime by our Big Media-Deep State Collusion Collective. Hm, I wonder why….

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The Inevitable War

A reader submitted his encounter with Diversitopia in America, lived to tell the tale, and wants Chateau guests to know that they don’t need to fear they’ll be alone when the storm comes.

******

The coming war that needs to happen

Seigneur de la Chateau Heartiste,

I have been considering this correspondence for some time now, my delay being in part to the rigors and schedule of my work as a welder and construction superintendent, and also in part due to my recovery which has been longer than anticipated.

In March of this year, I was attacked by a shining example of Diversity! (Inc.) in Baltimore, Maryland.  I had returned to my car after having a few drinks with friends in a recently gentrified artsy fartsy part of town– don’t ever let that fool you in Baltimore or any other major city with a significant black population where recently converted ghettos may have been sold to productive human beings for fire-sale real estate prices.  There is no part of this city where a “good” neighborhood is less than 500 to 1000 meters from a slice of Mogadishu.  Predators learn the travel patterns of its prey.  I see it every day when I drive to work through Liberty Heights and other squalid hells.  Since the attack I moved to Annapolis, the last big town in Maryland not connected to the others by way of subsidized transportation in the form of the Light Rail network, Amtrack-MARC lines, or regular bus shipments of the third world.  To live in Annapolis largely means to work elsewhere, and to work elsewhere means to have the capacity to own, register, inspect, and insure a private motor vehicle for which you are responsible for maintaining.  The automobile may be our salvation if we let the cattle cars crumble, as at least then we can largely immobilize the third world into their respective islands whilst we build walls around them with the machine gun sectors pointed in.

[ed: fyi this is one reason leftoids hate hate hate the privately owned automobile]

As a former US Marine, I am painfully aware of the security risks of Baltimore, and go out of my way to reduce my need to resort to force for survival.  At approximately 10 PM, I sat in the driver’s seat with the engine running and texted a few friends while I let the engine warm up (diesel car, cold night).  I was parked in the corner of a restaurant parking lot that is surrounded by fence on all sides save for the entrance– trapped.  Suddenly, to my left, a loud banging against my driver window caused me to drop my phone, and I looked up in horror at some young dindu punk with a cheap Hi-Point brand 9mm pistol leveled right at my chest ordering me to get out of my car.  I raised my left hand in a stop motion to show him I meant no harm as my right hand inconspicuously but instinctively went for my right hip where, if I were in Virginia or my native New York, my hand would have grasped the hilt of my Glock model 27 .40 caliber soul liberator.  The realization of its absence is when the blood truly drained from my face, and the icy cold reality of having to get out of my car and into the jaws of the beast to negotiate for my life set in.  Had I been able to drive off, I would have done so, and run this dindu down in the process by a fast reverse with the wheel hard to the right.

The instant I lowered the window to tell him to take the car, he started pulling on the glass (thanks for the fingerprints, asshole) and managed to force my window down to reach inside to pull the door handle. He grabbed me by the shirt, and pulled me out of the car but my seatbelt slowed my progress. He kept screaming, almost in a frightened manner, to “get out of the fucking car.” His pistol-whips came raining down on my head and somehow I was able to get out of the car when I tried to just run, but was on my knee with the door open and my right leg still in the car. He kept screaming for the keys, when I yelled, “they’re in the car, they’re in the car!” On about the fourth or fifth smash to my head and face with his crude instrument of an impoverished savage, I saw a starry flash and knew this cocksucker was going to kill me if he was able to get control of my car. I unclipped my Benchmade 4.5″ Stryker knife when I felt him lean over me to look into the car and plunged the glinting tip of my shiv directly into his abdomen somewhere near his spleen. I pulled the knife out to go for a second thrust when I barely got the edge of his blue hooded sweatshirt as he was in Jessie Owens mode running for the street nearby to make his escape back to the shadows. It just goes to show that we are ceding Western Civilization without so much as a whimper, because the instant I became a hard target capable of presenting danger to him and taking his life, he ran like a spearchucking skinny after the last gazelle on the grassy plain.

After driving off hurriedly to safety and dealing with the police, where my vehicle and knife were impounded for evidence for the night, I called my loved ones to let them know I was OK. The smiling southern belle who worked in the evidence lab gave me my knife back when I went to retrieve my car, smiling and thanking me for “marking” the son of a bitch while mentioning that she took the time to completely wash off all the blood for me. Had she not had a wedding band on, I might have asked her if she liked coffee, and if not, the company of handsome men.

The recovery was a bit longer than I expected. I went to see a neurologist and had an MRI in the coming week to check for bleeding, as my girlfriend said there were several times that I stopped mid-sentence and lost my train of thought completely. In addition to the headaches from the concussion, I went approximately three weeks with SEVERELY reduced libido– thankfully that has all worked itself out and I am functioning again as a physically fit man. That fucking dindu nearly made me a eunuch for a car whose resale value is less than ten grand, and one I tried to give him as the insurance company (one of those things that only white people have) would have paid me up in full when my car was found wrecked or parted out in some hole in the city. The black eye and swelling lasted for about two weeks.

Enclosed is a photo of my face that morning, as I decided to go get a line of cocaine’s worth of coffee before heading home to shower and clean up. [ed: injury status confirmed] Later that evening, my girlfriend and I went to a pub in Annapolis to just enjoy each other’s company and celebrate our love and my still being here on this earth– rather than her standing with my parents as my fellow Marines fire three volleys over my lifeless corpse. A gentleman sitting next to us with his girlfriend interrupted us to say that he was a photographer and graphic designer, gave me his card, and asked if he could take our picture for us because he “never sees the kind of affection in couples nowadays.” This wasn’t the first time we were complimented on being so “obviously in love,” so I know it wasn’t just the previous evening’s events that was causing this reaction. My girlfriend will always sit close to me, or in booth-seat restaurants, next to me. I give her the non-hoverhand, and occasional smile or peck on the cheek as I like to refrain from public displays, so what you recently wrote about a woman who has to fight to contain herself resonated that I must be doing something right. The body language in that photo is admittedly a bit beta, but the guy asked me to lean in and kiss her while she looked at him for the specific purpose of hiding my bloodied and bandaged left side of my mug. [ed: it was about as alpha as a peck on your girl’s cheek could look, so well done. cute girl, too 👌🏻] She insisted on being on top that night because of my bruised state. I let her have that request for about half the session.

The experience hasn’t really changed me, but it certainly has honed my resolve, Heartiste. If white men are to take back the cities they built, they will need to use the same weapon on the dindus as they do on us– fear. Civilization is starving for squads of proud, iron-pumping and steel-strapped shitlords to peaceably take to the streets in fearsome enough numbers to remind our squatting guests that transgressions will be met with the same but multiplied. Western Civilization is hungry for her men, and any political advocate of disarmament should be treated, verbally at first, as nothing more than someone who wishes you a terrible death. Do not be their friend. Do not play nice with them in the workplace lest your advancement or security rest upon it. Do not tolerate their bullshit, and remind them who are committing the murders (dindus). Ask them if they would buy an affordable house in the shit pit to live with the pets they so admire. Rub their fucking noses in the shit they have dropped on the floor in which to test white men and white civilization.

Please keep up the tireless work. I sincerely believe that Le Chateau is at the forefront of important work for the coming storm.

As always, you have my faith and support.

******

Six decades of this equalism shit is enough. These lethal Diversity™ skirmishes are taking place all over America, and are routinely ignored, suppressed, or sanitized of relevant facts by our anti-White Gaystream Media. And our White foot soldiers who are out there on the front lines taking black flak and fighting back are targeted for silencing and intimidation by Creep State operatives who will allow nothing to stand between their cushy sinecures and their dream of a one world open borders globohomo dystopia.

Which is to say, lunatic libs are at the helm, and their disfigured morality has made war inevitable.

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White Empathy, White Indulgence: It’s Not Universal

If you’ve ever lived in a diversitopia — I mean an area with real Diversity™ not just black and White but multiple races living under one neighborhood roof adding to the colorfully hazardous stew — you’ll notice a peculiarity that shitlib SWPLs would rather you never mention, which is that nonWhites — the subcontinental browns, the aztecs, the orientals, the MENAs and even the fuckin mystery meat race orphans, among others — treat blacks so much worse than Whites treat blacks. Blatantly, rudely worse.

You’ll often see a scene where some bindi is excoriating a black service worker for tardiness or general incompetence. As a White person, you might cringe a little at the scene, even though you know gandhi is right on the merits. A part of you wants to chastise him for not recognizing the informal rules of engagement in America when dealing with blacks: abide their shortcomings with a sumptuously magnanimous spirit.

It’s as if all the world’s empathy, big heartedness, and indulgence were concentrated in just one race — White Western Europeans — and the Lord of Lunacy decided no other race but Whites should possess such divine traits. Whites alone seem to have the ability to grasp the failings of another race and to obligingly adjust their behavior to draw the least amount of attention to the stark racial differences when in the company of members of that race, so that they don’t feel like lessers in the presence of superiors, or like oddballs in a world where White norms of social interaction are foreign to them.

NonWhites, however, whether they grasp the inherent and therefore unmitigable nature of black failings or not, care not a whit for blacks’ feelings and will gleefully, almost sadistically, make their displeasure with black incompetence known to participant and spectator alike.

All this is a roundabout way to reiterate the infamous CH maxim “Diversity + Proximity = A lot of hurt feelings and suppressed aggravation”. Diversity is not our strength or our moon landing; it is our miseries heaped atop miseries, only prevented from exploding in a cataclysm of spite by wealth transfers (aka paid ransom) from Whites to nonWhites.

PS I used to have to drive a short way through a shitty hood that was half-black and half-hispanic. Along this one residential street a hispanic gang (possibly MS-13) would gather across the road from a black gang (whose members were belched up from the deepest ghetto pits), and I’d drive between the two groups on occasion. They never mingled, and every time I drove by it looked like a shooting could go down in an instant. It was like West Side Story, except a lot more ominous. Ese Side Story meets The Wire. Anyhow, one day I was perusing the police blotter for entertainment value, and read that there was an incident on that street that included multiple stabbings and one victim that was seriously injured after “being thrown into a moving vehicle”.

NonWhites can be marshaled to gang up on Whites for a time, but their seething intertribal hatreds will always make it difficult for their handlers to keep their hatreds focused on the prime enemy.

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