Everything Wrong With America In One Picture

When historians ponder the fall of the Roman Empire, they point to the multicultural Germanicization of the legions and the outsourcing of military affairs to barbarian mercenaries. When they reflect on the causes of Mayan collapse, deforestation is fingered as the culprit. When future revolutionary historians on the fringes of polite society offer reasons for the implosion of the American Empire (coming *very* soon to a booming multiplex theater near you), they will hold up this photo. And heads will nod in unison. Mutterings will be heard: “We saw it coming.”

What’s wrong with this picture? Let us count the ways. I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume the hairdresser is swisherrific. I mean, just look at that belt buckle. Would we be able to win WWII if we had to fight it over again with the current crop of American men? Or would we chastise the fearful warmongering Americans for antagonizing the millions of moderate Nazis? Phony umbrage and secular piousness are the cheap and easy virtues of a soulsucked people. So easy, you can do it too! I’ll get you started. “Xenophobe!” Congrats, you’re now better than Jesus.

The assistant has a foreign name. East European. She has that cute, scrunchy apple face so sexually arousing in the Slavic women, but unfortunately her Old World charms will be lost in a matter of weeks, due to exposure to the froo-frooiest of American culture from working in a hair salon that caters to a dying breed. (And I’m not referring to the dog.) I do not envy her boyfriend who will wake up one morning to the realization that his beloved has become fully Americanized. Home cooked dinners and surprise blowjobs will be nothing but a sweet memory.

When a free nation is invaded by a foreign force wthout lifting a single weapon to defend itself, when it puts itself in hock to a Communist overlord, when it has 152 varieties of color protecting conditioner on its store shelves, the doomsday clock has moved a minute closer to the midnight hour.

Then there’s the woman getting the queen bee treatment. Yenta! It’s not just an electric car. Her smile may be a mile wide, but her eyes betray infinite sadness. By the way she is smothering her dog with affection I safely assume she is childless.

And of course, the dog, a term I use loosely to describe the shitting Roomba sitting on her lap. Is that a flower tucked in its head fur? No wonder the dog’s face says “Shoot me please.” Normal dogs are not coddled and pampered like substitute children. A normal dog’s face says “Bacon? Bacooooon!!”

Examine this picture. You should feel a foreboding deep in your gut. You won’t know why exactly, but it’s there. Best not think too long about it, there’s another mp3 to download.

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Natural Game Is Dead

Has there been too much emphasis by the seduction community on teaching “natural game”? Are we headed down a road where everything we’ve learned about women’s motives and desires becomes clouded over by ideological status jockeying, as a retrograde belief among pickup instructors and authors of game books takes hold that the only true game is unthinking, unconscious natural game?

Reader “ProDude” sent me the following email:

Hi, I don’t care if this letter gets put on your site or not, i just had to get something off my chest.

The current state of game is absolutely terrible. As you said in an earlier post, the influx of the “natural” style is ultimately killing the scene in my opinion.

I went to a few of these small monthly PUA get togethers in NYC – you pay about 10 dollars, listen to an instructor or some other presenter talk for 40 minutes, then talk to the other dudes there to hopefully meet new wings (which is all well and good).

The last few times I went there were some fairly well known “Naturals” around the NYC area, one was supposedly a former instructor at a major company. And their speeches amounted to nothing less than the old “just be yourself” speech we are used to hearing.

Now, being that my approach is finely crafted over my time spent gaming to reflect my personality, I am a good person to give this advice to. However, as I looked around the room I saw some very different faces.
Older guys, balding guys, really weak looking guys, and a dude that I had learned got divorced 6 months earlier. At the front of the room sat a dude who was so greasy, that I was pretty sure I can taste and smell him just from looking at him.
And what was the advice [the instructor] was giving to these people? Basically – act like a drunk 25 year old.
Of course it would work for me – I am 25 and very social. Of course it work for him – turns out he is 26 and a pretty good looking dude. But what about the other people there? What about the divorced guy, the old guy, the weak guy and the stinky guy? are they gonna get laid acting like a frat guy? Probably not.
Sure, he made some good points during his 40 minute speech, I’m not gonna fault him for that.

However, an even funnier thing happened later – he invited a bunch of people out that night to sarge with him. I was honestly excited because I wanted to see how a person that games for a LIVING does in the field. We all met up at a hipsterish bar and everyone began working their game. But whats this? Was I outshining him? I absolutely hate to toot my own horn, but here I was getting stronger reactions from women than a guy that charges a thousand dollars to hang with him for a weekend.
Let me repeat, I am not a mack superhero, or one of those super PUAs that only exist in bullshitted field reports. But here I was, doing better than a pro. That’s bullshit, that shouldn’t happen.

So I leave you with the following questions.

What does it take to really be a good PUA? What does it take to teach? Why does every person that has ever gotten laid suddenly an “expert”? Who, in you experience, is the best PUA/instructor/teacher and why? All of this shit is really bothering me, because in my opinion game is here to undo the years of damage that society has done, but I am afraid it might just do the opposite if this weak shit goes unchecked.

This is a problem. As Venusian Arts pickup instructor “Knack” hinted at in this guest post, I suspect the seduction community is abandoning the hard-won lessons that made it successful in the first place. The Game Revolution is drowning under an onslaught of PUA ego self-stroking, marketing razzle dazzle, and simple sloth. Greed and hubris is killing it before it has had a chance to fully mature, accelerated by modern social networks.

Ideological revolutionary movements follow this pattern:

Apostasy

A determined intellectual core of demoralized subjects of the status quo revolt. First, they focus their critical gaze at society; then, they turn it upon themselves. In time, their disgust and anger with the present system coalesces into a call to action.

Rebellion

Like-minded individuals find each other, faster than ever thanks to the global information supersexway. Small groups begin to form, bringing curious onlookers and searchers for answers into their orbit of influence. A rebellious subculture is born, dedicated to acquisition and application of new knowledge and the discard of lies.

Agglomeration

Dissent among the rebels is freely expressed. Trial and error and hypothesis rule the day. Anger, hate, love, admiration flow like a river, as do lay reports. Internet message boards and forums blow up (See: alt.seduction.fast and fastseduction.com, circa 1997 – 2000). Creativity blooms, fueled by a chaotic energy. The best is weeded from the useless and a system for change takes shape. A movement arises, Commandments in hand.

Hierarchization

The ambitious and the clever capitalize on the new paradigm. Businesses and ordered governing bodies emerge to channel the yearning of the rebel masses. Knowledge filters down and brings its blessings to everyone willing to embrace it. There is much treasure to plunder, and a frantic race to cash in. A warning flare shoots up as egos grow too big.

Dissolution

The natural inclination of humans is to believe they have a better way. The tried and tested ideology of a successful movement strains and creaks as it is tugged from various directions by those who want to inch it in the direction of improvement or reform. This tendency is exacerbated by the greed of teachers and writers and self-glorifiers who need something to set their services apart from competing business models. The original movement splinters into petty factions, along the way sloughing off the hard-won knowledge that defined its success.

Infighting

Anger and hate return, but this time not in the service of creativity and revolution, but in the service of fighting over the scraps of followers with a dollar bill left to spend. All energy is wasted on self-promotion; little goes to actual learning. It is now social status uber alles for the instructors and mentors, a bunch who have grown fat and torpid on their success and fame and now find it easier to teach to the lowest common denominator — namely, the game of the “natural”, which is nothing more than the game of good looks, aloofness, and saying “Hi”.

Betrayal

At long last, the movement so devolves that it betrays the central tenets of its foundation. The original mission is lost, replaced by a lackluster adherence to pop psychobabble and a lazy reliance on “inner game” or “natural game”. Everything that makes game tough to learn but generous in reward is jettisoned in favor of feelgood nostrums and vague handwaving. Cynicism among the followers is rampant and the revolution winds down to a caricature of itself.

The state of seduction is at the moment somewhere between dissolution and betrayal. A cyclical process that normally takes decades or even centuries has been compressed into a mere ten years by the rapidity with which the internet permits the stages of revolution to progress.

I have heard now from a number of men who have participated in seminars and workshops that the pickup instructors are essentially relying on their good looks for in-field demonstration. Worse, they are inculcating students with a steady stream of half-baked “inner game” motivational shibboleths that do them absolutely no good when face to face with women. And they are slowly getting away from teaching the routines, tactics, logistics, psychological ploys and body language improvements that are at the heart of seduction.

My advice to the seduction community, and take this advice in the generous spirit it is given, is to get back to the basics. That means returning to the *science* of seduction, and abandoning the nebulous *art* of seduction. Natural game is a fool’s errand destined to fail for all but… well… naturals. There’s a reason I frequently cite Mystery’s original masterpiece “The Mystery Method”. Its routines may be dated, its focus too club-oriented, and its acronyms nerdy, but word for word it is the best compendium and most effective strategy sheet for meeting, seducing, and fucking women hotter than what you are accustomed to fucking. An example from my own life: During a two year stretch when I was using almost TO THE LETTER what I learned from Mystery Method and online forums to seduce women, I banged more babes than I did at any other time of my life.

My advice to potential students of seduction seminars and workshops: Save your money. There is too much chaff to separate from the few precious kernels of wheat. If you must spend exhorbitant fees on a questionable product, do your research first. That means actually talking to students who have taken the classes which interest you. In fact, if any of you have taken workshops and gone in field with pickup instructors I am offering you the opportunity to guest post on my blog with reviews of your experiences. Knowledge is power.

Natural game is dead. Long live artificial game.

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Conversation I Had With A Vegetarian Girl

ME: So you eat fish but not delicious pig or cow?

GIRL: Fish are different. I don’t like the way farm animals are treated. It’s inhumane. Some animals have intelligence and emotions. Have you seen those big brown eyes on cows?

ME: Changing the subject for a sec… you’re very pro-choice right? You believe abortion should be legal.

GIRL: Of course.

ME: You don’t have a problem with third trimester fetuses getting torn limb from limb and sucked out of the womb?

GIRL: Ugh, why do you have to say that? Are you anti-abortion or something?

ME: Actually, no, I have no problem with abortion. But then I have no problem with killing and eating cow either.

A big reason abortion has such wide acceptance is because the disgust reflex isn’t triggered. The bloody affair takes place hidden behind closed flesh, so to speak. If the womb were transparent, I doubt legal justification for abortion beyond the first trimester would exist.

A true sadist embraces cruelty even when, maybe especially when, he can witness the tortured writhings of his victim. Ever see video footage of a guy about to jump off a building? Some people in the crowd below will yell “Jump!” as the poor guy stands high above them, lonely on the ledge, contemplating a suicidal leap. Would you yell “Jump!” if you could clearly see that man’s face, etched with pain and sadness?

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The Omegas Among Us

Standing on the long escalator, a small Asian woman excused herself to get by me as she strode down the descending steps briskly. Just in front of me, a family of four stood like grazing cattle on both the left and right sides of the escalator, heavily obstructing the passage of the tiny woman who was now trying to squeeze past them. As she squeaked “excuse me, excuse me” multiple times vainly searching for openings to circumnavigate the human cattle, they smirked and refused to budge and began spitting a fusillade of comments at her. “This is an escalator, not stairs.” “It’s not us that’s supposed to move, honey.” “You never ride an escalator before?” “Don’t be a little bitch, we ain’t moving for you.” “Son, just stand still, she ain’t supposed to be racing by like this.”

After a few seconds of this witty banter and threat of physical altercation, the Asian woman richoted off the man’s gut and shot out of their gauntlet of flesh. Briefly disoriented, she composed herself and resumed her jog down the escalator as the guffawing family continued flinging accusations and insults at her. When she reached the bottom she looked back up at the family, muttered something unintelligible, and flipped them a petite Asian bird. The father yelled back “fuck you bitch, you dumb bitch” then looked over his shoulder at the rest of his family and at me and my company, a vapid grin creased across his inbred face, laughing sourly as his fat sow wife and two kids took his cue and laughed along with him. His son, a boy of perhaps five, repeated his dad’s words: “yeah, you bitch!” The dad tenderly put his hand on his boy’s head and tousled his hair, and a few more “fuck”s and “bitch”s were shared in solidarity amongst the family members.

The father swiveled his head and made eye contact with me, presumably in search of proximate allies, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of laughing with him. Instead, I curled my mouth downward and narrowed my eyes, making sure my disgust for him and his Morlockian broodclan was obvious. My eyes swooped slowly over all four of them — a white family from out of town, judging by the faint hillbilly accent I heard. There was the father with close-set eyes and a face wider than it was tall, the sweaty stringy-haired fat pig mother who wheezed with each labored breath, the little boy (a rapscallion in training no doubt), and the little girl. I sneered one word, audible enough for them to hear: “class”. There was a still moment when it seemed as if he and his wife were registering my reaction and deciding what to do about it. The father’s smile dropped and he turned back around.

Fortunately for him, he did nothing. Maybe he could read the seething contempt on my face and sensed the lurid scenario playing itself out in my mind, the visceral desire I had, given the slightest pretext, to shove his filthy loser face into the escalator machinery, ripping his eyes and mouth and flesh and sinew off the bone and kicking the fat brood sow so hard in her bloated belly she is rendered infertile, as her children mewl helplessly nearby. Yes, he made the right decision to shut his trap. He knew, on some deep level, I was his better, and he would get no succor from me.

My intuition and keen eye has guided me well in seeing the big picture. America is currently fracturing hard and deep into two, irreconcilable groups — the genetic losers and the genetic winners. And the chasm between them is growing wider, a leap from one side to the other in either direction ever more incomprehensible. I am, in my humble outpost at the cultural hinterland where PC politesse yields to the merciless attack machinery of my wrecking ball truths, turning the mirror on civilization, and stripping bare the sugar coating civil society sprinkles on our discourse and beliefs to protect losers like the family in this story from the ghastly knowledge of their own worthlessness.

There was once a time when the lower ranks of society would admire the upper ranks, and work hard, however ineffectually, to acquire the habits and virtues of the upper classes on a journey of personal betterment. There was once a time when the upper ranks understood their duty to the lower ranks, and constrained themselves publicly in an act of noblesse oblige, to serve as example for their lessers. Today, that dynamic is destroyed. The losers know they’re losers, but they no longer give a shit. They wallow in their wretchedness like pigs in mud, sticking a porky hoof up the pinched sphincter of anyone who would encourage them otherwise. The winners know they’re winners, and despite their tissue-thin rhetoric to the contrary, know that it wasn’t hard work but the luck of the DNA draw that they aren’t rolling around in the sty with the pigs and who, if you get them behind closed doors and pry liberally with truth serum, secretly believe the left hand side of the bell curve barely even qualifies as members of the same human species. So now we have two groups, staring distantly at each other across the tar pit of our shredded national identity known as pop culture, who don’t give a shit about the other, and are feverishly living their lives to guarantee that a shit will never have to be given.

If you think this is sustainable, you have only to sense the bubbling resentment surfacing not only in the urban jungle where resentment is the engine of self-delusion, but in once placid regions like small towns and college campuses, to know it is not. Soon, there will not be enough gated land behind which the elites can barricade themselves and continue peddling their hypocritical pissant platitudes. The orc hordes will swarm like locusts and devour everything in their path. Even the danegeld will lose its power to pacify, if for no other reason than that the source of funds will not keep up with the hungry multiplying maws of the beasts of chaos. If you feed it, they will come.

The West is doomed. Unfortunately, there is no rescue from this cycle of inevitability. There are solutions, but they will never be accepted, for the languor and the stasis has metastasized, an ablative bunker mentality has burrowed deep in the national psyche. And so the decline will play itself out to the bitter end, quietly or explosively, it doesn’t matter.

The past 40 years have witnessed a cognitive stratification on a scale I believe is unparalleled in American history. The unspoken philosophical forces of credentialism and good breeding, coupled with the substrate of economies requiring abstract mental prowess to successfully navigate, have never been more actively practiced than they are now, and in so blatantly a fashion to what is said to the contrary. Assortative mating is the buzzword of the moment, but more significantly it may be the one true philosophy if pragmatic adoption is any measure of truth value. Yet confront the overclass with this untidy ugly truth and you will be treated to a stream of sophistic shit so thick you’d think the actions of a genocidal regime could be happily rationalized.

Come to think of it…

When words and deeds tug so hard in opposing directions, something’s got to give. The center cannot hold. And so, because I am a blessed humanitarian, here is my patented solution for saving America:

1. Build a wall at the southern border and kick out the last 30 years’ worth of de facto invaders, and cut off all immigration for two generations. It makes zero sense to add more misery to an already growing and spiteful underclass.
2. Alpha males need to start fucking and having babies with hot lower class women.

That’s it. A wall is cheap to build when compared to the costs of maintaining a military presence in a third world tribal cesspool. And upper class alpha males used to fuck and breed with their hot secretaries until said secretaries began going to college and getting higher paying jobs. Now, because of peer pressure, social finger wagging, or expedience, alpha males have forsaken fucking hot lower class women in favor of co-worker lawyer cunts, and the result has been a ghettoization of the genetic misfits to breed exclusively among themselves. Spread that upper class alpha seed around and you begin to rebuild the common mission and shared trust of a nation, one recombined double helix at a time.

In the meantime, I’m arranging my life in such a way that I minimize the amount of time spent in the company of losers. They’re fucking depressing.

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The Beta Crisis of American Men Marrying Older Women

Take me to the club where the boobs all hang
Give me old poontang that’s what I bang yeah
Hey take me to the club where the MILFs are queen
And from what I’ve seen that cooch is free

-Gonna use no game
-No need to mack
-Gonna get me some old maid
-Got a cougar on my back

Take me to the club where the ass hang down
Gonna grab that round – (yeah yeah yeah!)
Take me to the room where the young’s all old
And the old’s all bold take me back to her shack

-She don’t take no prisoners
-Gonna give me the business
-Got a cougar on my back
-It’s a cougar attack
[righteous drum solo]

Reader “Silver Fox” included a link in the comments to this New York Beta Times graphic showing that over the past 30 years more American men are marrying older women than themselves.

The betatization of the American male proceeds apace.

Naturally, the perpetual lie machine known as the mass media will play up a stat like this as proof that cougars are coming into their own, and strong men “secure in their masculinity” are beginning to “appreciate the older woman” and everything she has to offer, including her “higher sex drive”, “experience” and “full blossoming of her mature womanhood”.

As usual, they would be wrong. I will explain.

If we liken the typical cougar to a 1975 Toyota Corolla…

…then we can see that, if we were in a rush to get to the hospital and had no car at our disposal except this one, the Corolla with 250,000 miles on it would serve in a pinch to take us from point A to point B. Sure, it wouldn’t be the most fun ride, or the quickest ride, or the ride with the best handling (the torn vinyl on the heavily used bucket seats symbolize deep cleavage wrinkles), but it would do the job when we had a motor vehicle dry spell. Hell, tooling around in the Corolla for a few days might even be funny as an ironic hipsterly statement embracing the working class.

But goddamn if you’d be caught alive driving this POS on a daily basis, picking up your friends with it or tossing the keys to the valet to have it parked when you pull up to Bar Pilar. No man with car options would choose a 1975 Toyota Corolla as his daily commuter.

Analogously, you might entertain the notion of riding a cougar for a night if you’ve been suffering a six month pussy dry spell. You might even rationalize your decision to bang the cougar as a sort of statement against the patriarchy, or a mighty enlightened blow for 10th wave feminism. If your friends saw you leave the bar with the cougar, your face-saving embarrassment would compel you to sing the false praises of older women and how much they love sex and how well they suck dick.

But in the glaring, pore revealing light of morning, you’d turn over, take one look at your cougar conquest snoring fitfully next to you, and make for the exits like Road Runner. You would then feel so shitty about your dumpster diving that self-doubt would cripple your game for months. You’d retreat to the pallid glow of Creampie porn.

The NYBTimes graphic showing more men marrying older women should be viewed in light of my Corolla analogy. Men aren’t marrying older broads because they mysteriously and suddenly find them hotter than younger women; they’re marrying them out of necessity BECAUSE IT’S GOTTEN HARDER FOR THE AVERAGE BETA MALE TO MARRY THE YOUNGER WOMEN HE PREFERS.

What you are seeing in that graphic is a massive, paradigmatic shift in the sexual market. As the economic empowerment, entitlement complexes, and slut celebration of American women has reached epic proportions, they are living it up in their late teens and 20s with the alphas and settling down in their 30s and 40s with younger, desperate, easily controlled betas who serve as sub-par alpha substitutes when the alphas no longer desire them. The betas, for their part, would prefer to date and marry women younger than themselves, but they are being priced out of the younger woman market, and for many men a wet flabby hole is better than no hole.

The alphas, meanwhile, know it’s in their interest to use a woman during her prime and jettison her before marriage legally and financially binds him to an old jalopy. When an alpha does marry, he makes sure to marry a younger woman (preferably 10 years or more younger) so that he enjoys the ripeness of her sexuality for as long as possible. There are other benefits to older man-younger woman pairings — when he’s 50, and his younger wife is 35, she will seem relatively more attractive to him than she would to a 35 year old man. He will be more loving and attentive toward her than he would be to an “age appropriate” 50 year old wife.

The graphic above is a stark visual of just how betatized American men have become. They are so bereft of game and economic leverage over women that older wives now seem like an acceptable deal to them. They need to be schooled in the fine art of the ugly truths. First, I’d helpfully remind them that marrying a woman is a raw deal on its own, because all women are rapidly depreciating assets after age 25 or so who can take you for half your worth for no other reason than that they sport a vagina. Then I’d point out that marrying an *older* woman is like buying at full retail price in 2009 dollars a 1975 Toyota Corolla; she’s already past her physical peak, and he’d be lucky to get ten more miles out of her once he pedals her off the lot. It would be pissing money, and opportunities for better vehicles, away. It’s such an affront to nature when a younger man with the world before him marries an older woman that the Catholic Church should qualify it as a mortal sin.

Speaking of younger men marrying older women…

PS: A blast from the archived past!

PPS: And another!

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Repeal The IMBRA Now

For those of you in the dark, the most evil and discriminatory American statute of the past ten years is the International Marriage Broker Regulation Act of 2005 (IMBRA), signed into law in January 2006 by one of the country’s worst Presidents ever, George W. Bush:

[IMBRA] is a United States federal statute that requires background checks for all marriage visa sponsors and limits serial visa applications. IMBRA also requires background checks before speech or other forms of communication are permitted between American citizens and foreign nationals.

The IMBRA was a pure man-hating power play by feminists and their betaboy abettors. The statute was ostensibly inspired by a couple of mass media sensationalized cases involving American men murdering their foreign brides, but the truth is that the cases and the leftie fembot media coverage of them were nothing but convenient emotoprops for ramming an unjustifiable, anti-free speech and anti-free association misandrist law down the stupidified gullets of a politically lazy American public.

FACT:

There are very few studies comparing domestic violence rates between foreign-born wives and American wives. Any study on domestic violence among immigrant women that does not control for the race and immigrant status of the husband/boyfriend offender is worthless.

FACT:

Foreign brides will often make false claims of domestic violence because under the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) there is a provision that states a victim of DV can divorce her husband and get a green card.

FACT:

American men who marry foreign women have a lower divorce rate than the nation as a whole.

The IMBRA has nothing to do with sparing immigrant brides the indignity of suffering domestic violence and everything to do with making it more difficult for American men to find, meet, date, fuck and, in some cases, marry beautiful feminine foreign women. Police state fascist background checks are no more justifiable for an American man seeking a foreign bride than they are for an American man seeking an American bride, and they are especially egregious when used against men exercising their free speech to have a simple fucking conversation with a foreign woman.

No, here is the truth about the motivation behind jackheeled grrlstapo laws such as the IMBRA:

American women are deathly afraid of losing market leverage to foreign competition.

That’s it. Plain as day. And American women are right to fear boatloads of hot East European women flooding American shores, for deep down in the pits of their hellbound souls American women know they are a self-absorbed, egotistic, entitled, unfeminine, fatass lot. So they devise superficially plausible laws designed to solidify their stranglehold on power.

With the help of their mincing, ass-slurping, toolboy allies in Congress who also benefit from the status quo, the femcunts are succeeding at their goal of ensuring a sexual market that artificially raises their pussy value and maximizes their ability to play hypergamous empress while minimizing the options available to men and thereby forcing them to heed by rules inimical to their interests.

Here is a list of the small thinkers and anti-First Amendment shitheads who sponsored the IMBRA and snuck it into the reauthorization of the VAWA in the middle of the night, without any serious debate:

IMBRA was reintroduced in September 2005 by Sen. Sam Brownback (R-KS), Sen. Maria Cantwell (D-WA), Rep. Frank Wolf (R-VA), and Rep. Rick Larsen (D-WA)). IMBRA was incorporated into the Violence Against Women Act reauthorization in 2005, and was passed by both houses of Congress in December 2005.

Feel free to email them about the wrongness of their law for its chilling effect on the beautiful Judeo-Christian love between an American man and a foreign woman.

Repeal the IMBRA now. Like most men who aren’t deceiving themselves, when I’m older and still desiring young, slender, lovely female company I want the option of connecting, free of state intrusion, with overseas babes for much cross cultural love. If American cunts and their betaboy bitches are going to stand in my way of doing that, then I’ll leave this once-great, rapidly crap-ifying country and take my taxpayer lootbag with me.

And while we’re at it, repeal the VAWA as well. After all, is violence against women inherently more immoral than violence against men? If so, then permit me to make the claim that political representation for men is inherently more moral than political representation for women. If not, then the VAWA is an unjust law. Finish it off.

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Feminism As Sexual Selection Strategy

There is a theory in evolutionary science called the Social (or Machiavellian) Intelligence Hypothesis which suggests that our large brains evolved to help us become more socially, and hence reproductively, successful in increasingly complex societies. In other words, manipulation and mate choice go hand in hand.

I propose, as an extension to this theory, that the absurdity of mid-20th to early 21st century feminism and all its adjuncts are better understood as progressively sophisticated emergent sexual selection strategies which act as social obstacles to filter out men who aren’t able to successfully navigate them. In essence, feminism is an advanced biocomputational Turing test; a giant social subcommunication roadblock devised and embraced by women and, at least in principle if not in practice, by alpha males intended to ensure the continuation of the hypergamous weeding out of lesser men who don’t possess the savvy to play by ever-shifting sexual market rules. Feminism is only superficially about female equality; at its core it is a ginanomicon of secrets to which only socially adroit men are privy.

Why feminism? Why now? In a word: Beta males acquired too much power. The ascendance of the beta male (and, not coincidentally, the rise of American power) through the late 19th century to the mid-20th century, exemplified by the common man seeing his income and standard of living rise and his opportunities for marriage with quality women rise in response, resulted, as is necessary in the zero sum sexual market, in a lessening of female market leverage to satisfactorily satiate their hypergamous impulse. As I wrote back in this post:

Maxim #15: Female cultural equality = male dating inequality. Female cultural inequality = male dating equality. You cannot have both. So sayeth human nature.

With more beta males in the ranks of the economically and socially empowered, and *relatively* fewer alpha males monopolizing the keys to a happy life, the expression of women’s natural hypergamous compulsion was partially thwarted. More men in the running for pussy means fewer men on the chopping block. Which in turn means a blurring of the distinctions between competing men that women rely on to make their mate choices. Women need those omega-beta-alpha male distinctions because they are programmed from cosmic conception to choose from amongst numerous suitors. Cramp their style, and women will find a workaround to indulge their style again. It is their pleasure and their punishment.

Given the endless appetite of women to date up (even though there is evidence that engorgement of this appetite makes them unhappier), this wide and deep Beta Ascendance was an evolutionarily unstable environment. New complex memes would naturally arise in reaction to assist in pushing the evolutionary envelope of what qualifies as an alpha male, and here feminism and its discontents, its counterintuitive criteria and amorphous edicts, entered the vacuum left by the absence of widely practiced hypergamy to serve as the newest iteration of female sexual selection strategy. And the winners were the alpha males who could mouth the right platitudes while practicing the dominant behavior that put the lie to those same platitudes.

During the saturation phase natural selection resulting from the costs of having large brains checks further increases in cognitive abilities.

Feminism as a meme has reached its saturation phase. Further filtering advantage for women is no longer possible, and in fact a shrinkage of the market position of men who embrace feminism is under way in earnest. Now that the era of feminism is winding down (despite its last gasp ineffectual thrashing to the contrary), what will be the next organically emergent sociosexual meme to separate the alpha wheat from the beta chaff? My nomination: Nonjudgmentalist Game.

We are entering the Era of Amoral Alpha Players. Remember ladies: You get what you give.

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