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Archive for the ‘Escape’ Category

Yesterday, I speculated on motives for co-pilot Andreas Lubitz’s murderous sabotage of the plane he flew into a moutain. Three of my speculations appear to be strong possibilities, based on the most current evidence come to light.

2. Beta male rage. He suffered a recent breakup and took it out on himself and 150 strangers. […]

4. Terrorist mole. We’ve had a spate of planes going down because of pilot treachery. Have secretive terror-sponsoring societies filled flight schools with terrorist moles? Talk about the long game… […]

6. Muslim convert. No evidence of this, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the media Hivemind keeps this kind of info under wraps for the duration of public interest.

I settled on the schizophrenia explanation, figuring that based on Lubitz’s history battling depression and bad things happening to people who take anti-psychotics that it was the most likely reason for his mass murder-suicide.

But, that wasn’t my first instinct. When I saw a photo of the guy, my gut told me he was a lovelorn beta male candidate who may have flew (heh) into a psychotic episode triggered by a relationship breakup. I decided against my gut, in favor of the more “PC” speculation. I should’ve stuck with my gut. News arrives that Lubitz was seeing a therapist to get over his fiancée dumping him.

Reports this morning suggested the pilot may have been badly affected by a “relationship crisis” and was struggling to cope following a break-up with his girlfriend – who he was due to marry next year.

He is said to have shared an apartment in Dusseldorf – the destination of the doomed plane – with a woman whose surname is Goldbach.

The beta male rage angle is looking better.

(NB: This isn’t omega male rage, a la Elliot Rodger. Omega males are sexless castaways. Beta males can get girlfriends, but are awful at maintaining relationship hand, so they frequently get dumped, what seems to them, out of the blue.)

Chalk one up for CH speculation #2. What about the other speculations? Looks like I was onto something as well when I suggested (#s 4 and 6) that Lubitz may have converted to Islam.

All evidence indicates that the copilot of Airbus machine in his six-months break during his training as a pilot in Germanwings, converted to Islam and subsequently either by the order of “radical”, ie. devout Muslims , or received the order from the book of terror, the Quran, on his own accord decided to carry out this mass murder. As a radical mosque in Bremen is in the center of the investigation, in which the convert was staying often, it can be assumed that he – as Mohammed Atta, in the attack against New York – received his instructions directly from the immediate vicinity of the mosque.

We’ll see if this gets confirmed by German authorities. Or not, given that the Davosian Hivemind would wish to assiduously conceal such information from the public.

The whole horrible spasm of evil stinks to high hell of the effluvium excreted by a nexus of romantically defeated beta male rage + psychotropics + religion of peace + social atomization. Like commenter Bill said, white Westerners, and white Western men in particular, have become “unmoored”. Blowouts like Lubitz could become a feature of the future, rather than inexplicable one-offs. Unmoored white men, and especially white women, will increasingly find a soothing comfort in the black-and-white tenets offered by the alternative to secular, vibrantly diverse, libertardian materialism: Muhammadeism.

(A battle pitting Muslim beheaders against beep booping libertarians is gonna be awfully one-sided. And seriously cut into my poolside time.)

Chief Christian Sadist Pleasureman writes a lot about SCALE, and how its growth is tearing apart the fabric of society. He’s onto something, but I should point out that SCALE has other downstream effects he doesn’t often consider. One of them is the observed reality that massive SCALE permits women a broader pool of alpha fux to garnish their beta bux. SCALE encourages women, and the top 20% alpha males they desire, to satisfy their worst instincts.

Kind-faced (aka tamed) beta males like Andreas Lubitz get chewed up and spit out by SCALE. They have no community outside of immediate family. The implicit contract of relationship stability that was a given in the time of his beta father and grandfather has been severed. SCALE has permitted wider romantic vistas for women, for good and ill, and they are voting with their feet. The wreckage of Lubitzs left behind looks like the dumbstruck face of a good-natured beta who can’t believe his dependability and emotional support aren’t good enough for his disenchanted lover.

So now the question remaining is whether Lubitz’s romantic troubles precipitated his psychotic break and turn to Islam, or if his mental problems and embrace of Islam pushed his girlfriend away. Either way, the story is an omen for the future of white civilization.

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Reader Mitch Cumstein tells thee of his saga, of his days of thigh adventure!

When I was 17, I worked for this magazine as a summer job. They hired this 30-something lady to be the face of the company in its adverts. Striking for her age. HB9. No one at work dared flirt with her, because she was “married”. However, I knew she was game when I realized 1. Her husband reeked of beta and 2. She accepted every invite to hang after work at the bars. She even rallied the troops most of the time, which is a dead giveaway.

Anyway, another coworker was getting married and HB9 RSVPd with no plus one (another sign), her husband was out of town (another) and she invited us all to come over and drink at her house after the wedding (!!!).

I was 17…the office loved me and I could see she was seeing the affection everyone had for me. People sneaking me drinks, etc. It was an “honorable little brother” type love, and she took notice. She tried chiding me at her house. “Those dance moves you had on the dance floor were inappropriate…” Agreed and amplified (“yup”, “were they? i was too caught up in the rhythm to notice”). I remember she asked, “What do all these coworkers see in you anyway?” And I was buzzed enough to say, “I’d show you, but I probably wouldn’t be invited to your husband’s birthday party if I did.” Her tongue was planted firmly in her cheek. Within five minutes, we were making out and I was fingering her.

She clears everyone out of the house. I tell everyone to go on ahead, I’m going back to get my jacket. When I opened the door, she was standing there, ass naked. She walked into her room and I followed. When we got there, I stopped. Most men would’ve gone ahead, but I realized: THIS IS TOO EASY. It was low-hanging fruit. So I kissed her on the head and made my exit.

The next morning, I get a call on my phone from her. Except when I answer, it’s her husband. He tells me to meet him outside a pizzeria a mile from my house. I go and he’s standing there, pretending to be stoic.

Him: You son of a bitch…
Me: Present.
Him: You are scum…
Me: Yup.
Him: Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?
Me: Well…I didn’t fuck your wife…but the next guy will.

That one hit him like a sledge hammer. It was too true to deny. I guess they’d moved around a lot together, which is why they came to our town in the first place. My friends tell me he didn’t kick my ass because I was 17 and he’d be embarrassed to explain it all if he had to, but I disagree. He actually thanked me before taking off. “Thank you for being so honest,” was what he said. He was THAT beta. They were divorced within a year.

The next day at work, I was stocking sodas and the HB9 dropped a gift bag at my feet with a smile. Inside it were my sunglasses. I left them in his bedroom and that’s how he found out. It wasn’t even that she told him out of guilt; the guy found a pair of sunglasses in his room and had her dead to rights.

The takeaway: you grow up thinking married women are hard to snag, but in reality, they’re easier. It’s because most are lonely. Have relations with them or don’t, but if you do…don’t forget your sunglasses.

Bored wives are cheating wives, in heart if not in pussy. And where a woman’s heart goes, her hole is sure to follow.

Women complain that they have to keep up their looks so their husband’s eyes don’t stray, but they fail to recognize the tougher job men must undertake to keep the interest of their wives…. omnipresent charm and sexiness, to be called upon at will and dispensed in precise degrees of need as with a chemist’s skilled titration hand. The legally entangled husband’s job is made tough by the nature of women’s demands, which are psychological outgrowths of the fundamental premise. The job is tougher still in a social environment which has unleashed and sanctioned the most primitive animal instincts of women, and which offers women endless opportunities for financial and emotional exploit through the feminism-directed man-loathing divorce industrial complex.

PS I understand that there will be the usual readers who disbelieve this story. CH is not interested in the after-school job of parsing lines of code in reader-submitted anecdotes for evidence of fantasy, but we can tell you from experience that stories similar to Mitch Cumstein’s are common enough to warrant testimonial status, even if the specific, and probably poorly recalled, dialogue snippets are reconstituted in stilted or hubristic form.

Having stated the above disclaimer, I have to ask Cumstein… why would you agree to meet the husband of your near-hit illicit liaison? Teenage naivete?

PPS If your girlfriend or wife travels without you, the chances she’ll misbehave go way up.

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The Boyfriend Zone

Reader H.H. is bedeviled by the Boyfriend Zone.

Dear Chateau! you’ve helped me a lot so…

What to do when girls always put me in the “potential boyfriend” category? I’m a sociable guy who usually has no problems talking to strangers, getting people to smile or laugh, etc. I travel, have a cool job, hit the gym every once in a while and know my way around both in a sports bar and in an art gallery.

However, I tend to always be approached or at the very least orbited by 7s and 8s looking for a relationship*. ”I’d like to leave home with you, but I need to know that you’re interested in the long term” or ”I’d like to kiss you now, but I have to find out first whether you’re married”. (I could take them home and fuck them, but I hate to lie.)

I’m more interested in short crazy, one nighters with no strings attached. What’s this? I’ve been afraid that I’m giving out too many nice guy vibes, could that be it? Is there an element of danger missing? Are the sluts not interested? What am I fucking up?

*Of course the next step is to upgrade from 7-8s to 8-9s, but i’m not sure if that problem is connected with this…

When a woman tries to put you in the Boyfriend Zone, it usually means you’re giving off a heavy player vibe. She fears you’ll make her another bedpost notch, but she desires you, so to reconcile the good feeling with the bad feeling, she presses for reassurances that you won’t use and lose her. This is classic anti-slut defense (ASD) posturing.

This is a perfectly natural female response, and you have two ways to tackle it. One, you can tone down your charming jerk vibe in favor of more beta-ish cues of reliability and emotional investment. In game parlance, you’d back off of the teasing and flirting and stress comfort-building and qualification (i.e., “Do you like the idea of traveling with one person you really love?”). You’ll also want to flash hints of vulnerability. “I’ve had my heart broken enough times to know I’m no player.” With these girls, that effervescent connection is king. “I’m just a guy looking for the same thing you are.”

Two, you can screen for girls who want short, crazy flings or one night stands. This means you amp your jerk smirk to 11 and escalate sexually (and logistically). The idea is that you avoid any confusion that you’re potential boyfriend material. Mixed messages are probably what’s confusing girls about your intentions. Normally, this is a good thing, unless you don’t like to mislead girls, which you said you don’t. An unambiguous dispatch of your cad intentions communicated through your behavior filters for girls who want the same thing. You’ll scare away LTR-focused girls, while attracting sluts, unhappily married women, ovulating women, thrill-seekers, rebounds, urban gogrrls on anonymous adventures, highly sexual women, and smart women.

Occasionally, a woman will put you in the Boyfriend Zone because your behavior in some way has pinged her boyfriend radar, and she’s excited about the prospect of dating a man who’s on her wavelength. Her excitement can be so great, she seeks validation for the LTR promise that hangs heavy in the air between you two. This validation seeking can take the form of probing questions about your “commitment to commitment”, because for these women romantic escalation is as intoxicating as sexual escalation. Many players have no compunction about leading these types of women on (and it’s quite easy to be good at it), so if that’s not something you’d do then you’ll have to stick to strategy #2 and actively select for low impulse control girls.

I have some disheartening news. If you’re constitutionally against the idea of leading women on*, you’ll have a harder time finding many 8s or 9s interested in no-strings-attached sex. Contrary popular mythology, most funfunfun girls who’ll agree to what amounts to slutting it up are the wastoids, the desperate, and, if your game is good, the borderline cuties in the 5-7 range. While SCIENCE! is hard to come by, my impression is that blue city 7s rack up more sex partners than 9s. Which makes sense; all women want the alpha male’s sex and the alpha male’s commitment. But only the best women — read: the hottest — have reasonable expectations of achieving both goals. Less hot girls will sometimes resort to giving away their sex for a shot of alpha male money shots and a slim hope of rousing his long game lovingkindness in the post-coital glow (it rarely happens).

This isn’t to say that you can’t find a boner fried hottie who tingles for the flingle. They’re around; they’re just better at concealing, even to themselves, any latent desire for a sexual romp. If you want to be both honest and noncommittal with a beauty, you’ll have a road ahead of you. If you can handle soft-shoeing your NSA message without having a moral crisis, then blazing a trail of microtears through HSMV women will be easier. Hotties are gonna need to see some feints away from pure sexual objectification. Of course, you’ll still want to make them work for your love.

“I’m dating around until I find that one woman I click with.”

PS *”Leading women on” is just another term for nonjudgmentalism. Men who don’t lead women on are, by necessity, more judgmental of the women they meet. Because in fact there is no such thing as true nonjudgmentalism; we’re all judging something about someone else at any given time. Hiding your judgmentalism is good for business if your business is persuading women to giveitaway.

PPS When a girl says ”I’d like to leave home with you, but I need to know that you’re interested in the long term”, the best reply is one that assuages her fears and avoids supplication. That means, don’t jump on her beta bait with forceful vows of fidelity.

BAD:

“Oh, I’m definitely interested in the long term with you. I’ve always wanted a girlfriend.”

GOOD:

“Like you, I want the same things. But I can only answer that once I get to know you and spend time with you.”

Your long term interest is presumed but not guaranteed.

Maxim #45: If a girl isn’t working for your love, she’s making you work for hers. Better to be a love owner than a love laborer.

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Your Mission

It’s time that mama bird CH pushes some of you fledglings from the internest to embark on a confidence building mission.

The men who read this site fall roughly in line with the following ratios: 10% cellar dwelling WOWmegas, 30% undersexed betas, 40% curious betas in relationships (or capable of getting into them with some growing pains), 20% alphas of various stripes.

How do I know this? SCIENCE. Actually, it’s an impression I get from the circadian rhythms of the comments section. No claims or proofs by assertion necessary; enough words will coagulate to convey a picture.

So, given that over half the readership are men who genuinely need help meeting and seducing women, and that a substantial portion of these are men who aren’t doing anything to fulfill their desire besides stare at a flickering screen hoping for PIV through CH osmosis, I have decided to give some of you a ticket out of here, in the form of a manbuilding mission.

Understanding how hard it can be for a lot of men to say hi to girls, this mission is fine-tuned for the hopelessly lovelorn and intractably awkward. Baby steps. You won’t have to say word one to a girl. All you have to do is…

1. Squeeze a twinkle into your eye.

Now naturally there’s no physiological way to do this directly. But if you imagine you have an eye twinkle, like some mischievous imp who pulled off a righteous prank, then your eyes will begin to respond to your mental state and manifest twinkles on their own.

2. Smile, but just a little at the corner of the mouth.

Again, you’ll need mental preparation to do this right. Have you ever sauntered alone in your thoughts, musing on some funny scene from your life, or some joke you pulled on a friend (or enemy)? Have you then noticed, once jolted back to your surroundings, that your mouth had aligned into a badboy smirk all on its own? That’s what you’re aiming for. Not a goofy smile; a self-satisfied smile that tells the public world your private world is a trip.

3. Walk with your crotch leading the way.

Sounds silly, but it’s the secret to many an alpha’s intoxicating swagger. Imagine your baton is a marching band leader, setting the tempo, securing the parade route. Or visualize your iron schlong is being pulled forward by a magnetic force, dragging the rest of you behind it. Shoulders square, chest out, chin up, frank and beans forward and pushing your legs apart to make room. Don’t be comical about it. A little goes a long way.

Your mission is to assume the above three changes to your countenance, and walk around in public. That’s it.

Once you get into a groove, I want you to notice how girls respond to you. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. These subtle body language alterations make a bigger difference than you might have thought.

After you’ve accomplished this rudimentary lesson in confidence building, you’ll move on to mission #2: How to say hi to a girl without deucing your diapers.

If, for whatever reason (pathological neuroticism), mission #1 is too high a hurdle for you, there are aids you can enlist to help you acquire that arrogant alpha demeanor women so love and cherish. Jam in ear buds and blast your favorite testicular tunes. Remember, you aren’t talking to girls on mission #1. Your only job is to project an alluring aura. If music doesn’t do the trick, there’s always that old reliable coc[REDACTED].

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CH continues to explore the Elliot Rodger story because it reveals cracks in our culture that go beyond one man’s murderous rampage. In the days that have followed, the Hivemind has been busy concocting twisted narratives to see which one best tarnishes its free-thinking enemies. I examine their accuracies and fallacies below.

Sexual Entitlement

This theoretical gambit is a favorite of feminist fruitcakes, who blame the killings on Rodger’s thwarted “entitled” belief that he was “owed” sex with hard 10s, a feminist-friendly analysis that provides a handy springboard upon which they can launch into attacks on “pickup artists” who are learning how to become sexier men in order to date higher quality girls.

The fallacy in this feminist hypothesis was astutely noted by Liger (recently upgraded from Lamb) of the Blogosphere, who wrote that sexual and romantic entitlement is a natural condition of humanity, and that without it men would feel they had no right to approach women and initiate a courtship, and the human race would go extinct.

Here are some uncomfortable truths about “sexual entitlement” that feminists dare not contemplate:

– What Elliot Rodger had was sexual desire. Feminists often confuse sexual desire for sexual entitlement (because feminists loathe male desire), but they are two very different things. To conflate them, one would have to assert that Rodger was weird for feeling attracted to a hot young blonde. But men are attracted to beautiful women. That is their nature. Rodger was no different than the vast majority of men in this regard, alpha and beta alike. However, this is the part where Liger goes astray; Elliot didn’t need to be surrounded by pretty Hollywood actresses or steeped in a culture that reveres female beauty to feel urges to want to fuck cute girls based on their looks. The stripling CH did not grow up in Hollywood, and yet I, like almost every boy I knew, valued girls for their looks above all else. No “looks message” is necessary for a boy like Elliot to feel sexual urges for cute chicks, and to feel dejected if those urges aren’t fulfilled.

– Women feel more true entitlement to men’s commitment and money than men feel to women’s sex. Few men will rape in order to feed their sexual entitlement, but many women will hold out until they get promises of commitment from men, and many marriages end with women feeling entitled to half their husbands’ wealth. A more accurate description of the sexual market, then, is that women have commitment and provision entitlement.

– Finally, the scariest realization for feminists: Sexually entitled men are more attractive to women! If you don’t feel entitled to a woman’s love, she won’t think you’re worth her love.

Elliot Rodger’s problem was not sexual entitlement. His problem was sexual desire coupled with crippling introversion that left him no means to satisfy his desire. This created a cognitive disconnect that he filled with his own untested theories for why women weren’t with him when they were with (to him) obviously inferior specimens.

Father Emotional Abandonment

Elliot Rodger’s father, Peter Rodger, from all accounts sounds like he was uninterested in Elliot’s upbringing and preferred his time in the company of naked women taking pictures of their behinds, (which included Elliot’s mother). His father either never loved Elliot, or grew to despise him when he began to sense something was off with the boy. (If the former, it’s likely that Elliot’s biracial appearance contributed to his white father’s disenchantment with him.)

Bolstering the father abandonment theory, a reader sent some juicy insider information which I will post here, taking care to edit it in a circumspect manner so that no identities are accidentally revealed.

Elliot Rodger’s family has been part of a reality show the last seven years often recorded in his house. This is significant because his father on the show has always said he has “a” son, as in only one. In this video from the TV show it shows the father at the family table with the son from the second marriage, but not Elliot.

Elliot is shown in the show, for example when they met Sylvester Stallone (23:50), but Elliot is never acknowledged or speaks. Imagine a father that has a reality show in the house, keeps talking about “his son” and the “three of us” as in “Mother, Father, and son” as opposed to sons.

Elliot mentions the jealousy he has for the other brother. The fact his father says on TV, in the house Elliot lives in, that he has one son, might be enough to push someone over the edge.

In other words, complete family dysfunction.

Elliot doubtlessly sensed his father’s loathing and embarrassment of him, and this family dynamic may have set the ball rolling on Elliot’s eventual psychosocial schism.

Regardless where you fall on the “fathers are crucial/father’s genes are crucial” argument about children’s development, it’s a good bet Elliot lacked a positive parental influence and a loving father’s advice that would have helped him through his struggle into manhood. Nevertheless, the father emotional abandonment theory can’t fully explain Elliot’s eventual psychotic break; something awry already had to be present. Was Elliot’s blood tainted?

Psychopathy/Schizophrenia/Narcissism/Neuroticism/Asperger’s Syndrome

A common theme that often emerges from mass shootings is the revelation that the killer was on some kind of psychotropic or suffered from an anti-social disorder like autism. Then people say “Aha! He was a bad seed, not right in the head”, and feel satisfied that they can ignore any environmental insults that may have triggered the killer’s rage.

News stories present contradicting information on how much, or whether, Elliot was on any happy pills or had been formally diagnosed with any personality disorder. If he was on pills, the causal mechanism then becomes the issue; did Elliot’s psychological disease push him over the edge, or did the drugs he take to ameliorate his disease act as the trigger for violence? Evidence is slim that Elliot had a congenital mental disease, but this photo of him as a child is telling (via reader Tony Nick):

Dem eyes. We’ve seen them before, staring vacantly out of the faces of Dylan Kliebold and Seung-Hui Cho.

Right now it’s a guessing game, but the best guess is that Elliot Rodger had inherited a form of narcissistic and anti-social personality disorder. Some wags may ask your esteemed host, “If chicks dig dark triad narcissists, why didn’t they dig Elliot?” The problem here is that narcissism doesn’t attract girls if it’s hiding behind a shy, retiring, aggrieved personality. You’ve gotta bust a move, and Elliot Rodger clearly never saw a move he wished to bust, unless it involved spilling coffee on a girl who was dating a guy he didn’t like.

A severe organic personality disorder alone won’t typically create a killer, but combine it with some external variable — like incel — and all the bomb needs is something to light the fuse.

Male Feminism/White Knightism

A good argument can be made that Elliot Rodger was, in his writings and beliefs, a male feminist. And that the cancerous, deceitful message of male feminism warped his view of women and contributed to his ignorance about female nature and dating. Rodger believed “supreme gentlemen” should get the girls. He thought merely showing up and plopping down on a park bench would have the girls falling into his lap (and like a peculiar subspecies of MGTOW, his belief system similarly embraced the strange notion that making efforts to get girls was beneath him). His dad, probably equally deluded about women and dating in the year 2014, figured that buying his son a BMW in the last year of his life would help him get dates.

Did male feminism create a monster? It certainly didn’t help Elliot get laid; in fact, it helped repulse girls from him, the external factor which seems to have been the dark driving force throughout his post-pubertal life. Male feminism is not just castrating, it kills. Ask Hugo Schwyzer.

Status Envy

In the Hollywood culture Elliot knew, very high status men, beautiful women and botoxed women, and snotty children of high status men and beautiful and/or botoxed women surrounded him. Most of these people are entitled (far more entitled than Elliot) and bipolar. A fun bunch to throw a party, not so great for raising a biracial, effeminate (though not physically unattractive) male like Elliot who couldn’t look people in the eyes and barely spoke two words to family acquaintances. In this milieu, Elliot would have felt like a tragic outcast, and everyone who knew him would have thought that, too.

Absolute low status does not destroy souls, but relative low status can do the trick. Any other town, Elliot might’ve stood a chance of carving out a social niche for himself. A dad with some awareness and compassion would have taken him out of Hollywood, but then that would have meant no more naked photo shoots and handshakes with Sly Stallone.

The Anti-Boy Therapy Culture

Elliot’s family had him in therapy for years. The psychiatrist he saw was a quack who dated a skank blonde with gargantuan fake tits. Harken back to your childhood. How would you have felt if your family basically pulled a Pontius Pilate and washed their hands of you, sending you to a sleazeball who’s idea of therapy was promptly writing a script for Risperidone, an anti-schizophrenia drug?

This is a tragic example of the anti-boy therapy culture that pervades the US. And by “therapy”, I mean that feminized, womanish therapy that shoves pills down throats to solve the problem of boyness. Maybe Elliot was born sick and needed therapy. But what he didn’t need was a castrate asking him his feelings about his mother while he jerked off under the desk. Elliot needed the therapy of a clear and present father to inform him of the ways of the world. Maybe that wouldn’t have saved him, but it at least would’ve given him a fighting chance.

Pickup Artists and PUAHate

Elliot Rodger didn’t frequent the PUAHate forum to grouse about pickup techniques he tried that didn’t land him a bombshell hottie. He went there to bemoan women and the men those women loved with sympathetic company, and to complain about his looks. While there, (and elsewhere), he picked up (heh) a few bits and pieces of PUA jargon and proceeded to construct an inner fantasy world featuring himself as the put-upon alpha male. But, sadly, to the outside world he was still that shy kid who never talked and looked at his shoes. This was about the time when a complete dissociation between Elliot’s inner world and his outer reality was underway.

The Estrangement Of The Modern Sexual Market

If ever there was a subculture where the modern sexual market was most conspicuously operable, it was the la-la land Elliot grew up in. You can imagine what it was like for a shy kid who had to navigate a dating apocalypse where 90% of the girls were bangable and 99% of them were chasing after the top 1% sons of A-list insiders. This poor lesser beta didn’t stand a chance.

Elliot Rodger’s 132-page autobiography/manifesto (autofesto? manigraphy?) is filled with brutally confessional admissions of loserdom. If he carried even a fraction of that self-pity with him to real life interactions with girls, they would have immediately written him off as a romantic prospect. Girls can smell the stink of beta incel from twelve parsecs.

Failure with women compounds until the beta male succumbs to bitterness, at which point the process of sexual isolation accelerates and solidifies. If an intervention goes missing, the beta can drift into omegaland, and fall victim to his worst compulsions.

Reader Steve Johnson writes,

He was totally isolated because he made bad choices.

He chose world of warcraft over socializing because it’s an effective narcotic.

He chose puahate because it told him what he wanted to hear – that girls choose guys for mysterious reasons that no man can understand – or change about himself.

He specifically avoided socializing in any way that would threaten his narcissistic self-image and motivate him to change in any way – after all if he has to change, then he’s not perfect and we all know that can’t be true, right?

He was omega by choice because it was easier than doing any work.

Martyrdom complex, bad family, crippling shyness, pathological narcissism, biracial neuroticism, unfulfilled sexual desire, a sexual market rapidly separating introverted beta males from the sexual spoils… these things put together don’t guarantee a man will become a killer, but they sure don’t help.

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You may not think a study of social spiders would have anything to say about such disparate topics as racial diversity and pickup, but that’s just because you haven’t taken a fistful of shrooms and gone on a vision quest.

…these oddball spider socialites may offer fresh insight into an array of human mysteries: where our personalities come from, why some people can’t open their mouths at a party while others can’t keep theirs shut and, why, no matter our age, we can’t seem to leave high school behind. […]

[Researchers] have determined that character-building in social spiders is a communal affair. While they quickly display the first glimmerings of a basic predisposition — a relative tendency toward shyness or boldness, tetchiness or docility — that personality is then powerfully influenced by the other spiders in the group.

In laboratory experiments, the researchers showed that spiders exposed to the same group day after day developed stronger and more distinctive personalities than those that were shifted from one set of spiders to the next. Moreover, the spiders in a stable social setting grew ever less like one another over time.

In other words, far from fostering behavioral conformity, a predictable social life accentuated each spider’s quirks and personal style, rather as the characters in a sitcom — the Goth girl, the huckster, the lovable buffoon — rise ever more to type with every passing laugh-tracked week.

“The longer the spiders were with the same individuals, the stronger their personalities became, and the more different they became from each other,” Dr. Pruitt said. “The aggressive ones became much more aggressive, the docile ones more docile.” The consistency of their behaviors also mounted with time, he said, “to the point where they seemed almost rigid.”

As most readers are here to learn how better to attract women in a world gone mad, the story within this story is what group familiarity and uniformity say about your chances to escape your beta box, (or, conversely, to exploit your alpha cred).

Summarizing, a lack of inter-group diversity (say, growing up in an idyllic all-white suburb where Rush blasted from angst-y teen bedrooms) actually increases individual diversity, through the mechanism of amplifying preexisting personality differences among same-group members. In contrast, a lot of inter-group diversity (say, moving to a SWPL hipster enclave in a minority white city soaked in vibrancy that makes daily living an adventure in survival) produces a uniformity of thought and, CH will note, of aesthetic within groups, which is why we see SWPL hoods in nearly every major American city converging on the same farm-to-table Obama-loving liberal hypocrite norm.

Paradoxically, group cohesiveness creates more individual diversity, while inter-group diversity creates more intra-group uniformity. Diversity + proximity = conformity.

In other words, the diversity that really matters — diversity of thought and personality — flourishes in less racially diverse environs.

That’s the diversity angle of this spider study, What about the game angle?

Equally dramatic was the impact of social conditions on the boldness test. Stable spider groups, composed of six spiders that remained together for up to four weeks, showed the greatest variety between individuals, the greatest mix of bold and shy, as well as the highest individual consistency: The pebble-playing times of the boldies grew shorter while those of the timids lengthened.

Among shifting spider groups, by contrast, the boldness scores proved far less predictable, as though the spiders didn’t quite know what was expected of them. […]

Alison M. Bell, who studies stickleback personality at the University of Illinois, says the spider work neatly illustrates the mix of plasticity and predilection that underlies personality.

“I think it’s such an appealing idea that social interactions could cause social niches, and it resonates with our own experience as humans,” she said. “When you go into a group, your behavior changes depending on the nature of that group, but it can only change so far.”

Yet so long. Soon after getting results from the experiments, Dr. Laskowski met with a group of friends she hadn’t seen since graduating from high school a decade earlier.

“All of a sudden I’m high-school Kate again,” she said. “Just being in that social environment completely reinforced my old behaviors. It was my social niche, that’s what I felt.”

Your identity can be altered by removing (or removing yourself from) social dynamics that reinforce your old identity. Personality is part predilection, part plasticity (ratios subject to debate), and what this spider study hints at is that if you are a docile beta male who wants to inject some alpha characteristics into your behavioral regime, you can move the needle on your suite of personality traits by getting the hell away from stale social settings in which you are known as the niceguy who doesn’t pick up women.

For some men, this won’t be news. Many a former beta male has testified to social and sexual success that accrued after he left his comfortable social circle, or his hometown, for strange new lands and new friends who didn’t know of his past nature. Like the rattled spiders who got confused when their social landscape shifted, the beta male will be able to more easily experiment with bold alpha moves in a new environment filled with new people who haven’t yet pigeonholed him. Additionally, the alpha males who luxuriated in the rewards that familiar people’s expectations granted them will be less bold in new environments, thus paving a path for uppity beta males to exploit the slick seducer niche.

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Stomach dropping. A pressing, radiating hollowing on the innerside of your solar plexus. Eyes widening to surprise-shaped orbs, drinking in threat. Face burning with bloodrush. Clammy hands, racing brain.

If you’ve ever lost a girl’s attention to another man, you know that feeling. It could be a first date who unexpectedly sing-songs an encomium about some guy who’s been on her mind, or a girlfriend you’ve started dating whose eyes dart around the room checking out other men as if you’re blind and can’t notice her distraction, or a more established girlfriend who betrays a wobbliness of the knees and a yearning in the voice when an ex-boyfriend joins your company.

You’re losing her, and that sinking feeling is your bioalert system letting you know she’s slip slip slippin away.

What do you do? When it happens, the advice from players with icy game in their veins is usually a variant of the following:

– Flirt with another girl. Act indifferent. You demonstrate high mate value by maintaining state control and refusing to get flustered by the imminent threat of another man or your woman’s emotional straying. Re-establish your attractiveness by signaling preselection from other women, and unlimited options which you threaten to act upon.

In other words, make her come back to you, like an iron filling to a magnet.*

This advice is given because it works. No doubt about that. But the problem is that certain conditions are needed for practical application of the advice. One, you need other single women around with whom to tactically flirt. Two, you have to be a borderline psychopath to be able to remain so coldly unaffected by the whirlwind of emotions emanating from your limbic engine room. That kind of eerily cold indifference to romantic outcome is either innate, or developed from years of profligate poon plunder.

Most regular guys don’t have years of poon plunder under their belts. And most of the time you’re out with a girl, there won’t be readily available single women within eyesight to welcome your counter-attack flirtations. You will be left with your date/girlfriend, her roaming eyes, and your sinking feeling, and that’s it. So, what now?

I’m about to give the best piece of advice you’ll ever hear on this subject. Advice that’s worked for me when I most needed it. Here it is. When you feel that sinking feeling:

Leave.

Don’t even tell her you’re going. Simply walk out. This is the best… BY FAR the best… method for maintaining your aloof indifference in the face of reproductive annihilation. Get away from the negative stimulus that is impossible for you to properly manage, and you won’t be there to announce your beta insecurity to the world. Leaving in a flash has a second benefit: It frightens your woman. It fills her with the fear that you might skip out on her for good, to cash your higher value mate chips in at a better paying table.

Now this won’t always work — she might stay behind and wind up making out with someone else; but if that happens, she was never close to being your woman, so you saved yourself wasted investment — but when it does work, it works like a MOAB. Plus, you get to enjoy the wonderful, if temporary, feeling of taking the manly initiative and salvaging your dignity.

In the latter scenario, she’ll come running out, sooner or later, maybe the next day, hurling invective, demanding explanation. This is not the time to express the pain of your romantic disappointment like a lovesick beta. Drive the id shiv in a little further, with a twist of ambivalence: “I felt like going. Do you want me to slap on a GPS monitor so you can track my whereabouts?”

Chaser-chasee roles… INVERTED.

Reward good behavior intermittently, punish bad behavior promptly.

Her company should now improve. But if it doesn’t you have the luxury of timing the release of your disappointment with her behavior during happy moments when she least expects your ire, and when your state control is set to Maximum Aloofness. There’s nothing so psychosocially exhilarating as catching a woman off-guard; it’s similar to how a curse is more effective when you lull your foe into complacence with calm rebuke and then drop the soulsmashing insult at the very end.

*Some players recommend calling a girl out when she mentally strays, sort of an agree & amplify of an unspoken context. For example, “Hey, eyes over here you crazy slut. At least wait until I’m gone before you throw yourself at another man.” CH does not agree with this strategy. It sounds workable on paper, but the reality is quite different; you’re more likely to come across butt-hurt than bemused.

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