Greatest Car Chase Ever

 

I did this once in my car. Here is a picture of my car:

my honda with butterfly doors. the ladies are stuck to the hood.

This post required 8.3 seconds of effort. Quit yer bitchin’, I was… ahem… busy this morning.

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Why I Love Abortion

Lost in the culture war clamor and feminist breast-beating is the fact that abortion has been very, VERY good for men, especially alphas who play the field. Think about the upsides:

• Abortion is a handy dandy escape hatch for men.

Sure, men aren’t the ultimate judge, jury and executioner of the fetus; that is a special privilege afforded only women — for now. (I’d like to see men have the legal right to abort their financial responsibility for any unwanted pregnancies. In the interest of fairness, you see.) But men have the next best thing — an open invitation and legal sanction for women to do the dirty work and absolve them of 18 years of imprisonment. It’s a bit of a crapshoot to rely on a woman’s whim, but it’s leagues better than accidentally impregnating a woman and having zero recourse to rectify the situation.

Anyhow, as a man, if you fuck around a lot, you’ll thank your libertine god that abortion exists as a viable alternative to forced fatherhood. Pro-choice means pro-player.

• Abortion is eugenic.

In theory, at least. In practice, as it is utilized in present day America, it’s more or less neutral, as those who would most benefit society by cleansing their wombs of the next generation are still going on to have more kids than their betters. But once people accept that our genetic heritage accounts for much of who we are (and with the science advancing in that direction by leaps and bounds it’s just a matter of time), abortion will come to be seen as a convenient method for ensuring only the prime grade A progeny make it through the vaginal canal.

• Abortion is the cure for what ails ya.

With constantly improving embryonic screening techniques for genetic or physical abnormalities, our gloriously abortifacient new world offers women and the men who love them the opportunity to prevent the misery and suffering of the doomed. For what could be more cruel than knowingly bringing to life a soul trapped in a twisted body or a stunted mind, wracked with pain and shame and exposed to a lifetime of horrible torment as objects of his affection forever elude him, his heart never to pulse with requited romantic love. I have nothing but seething hatred for those parents who willingly allow the births of babies with torturous afflictions.

• Abortion will spur anti-aging research.

The trend is couples having children later in life. But biology doesn’t care about trendiness. A 32 year old mother has a higher chance of giving birth to Quasimodo than a 23 year old mother. That is a fact. But the good times of extended adolescence are here to stay (yay!) so the growing number of older couples wanting normal healthy children, in conjunction with the child-delaying tactics of the abortion industry, will energize anti-aging research enabling people to extend every phase of their lives. If all goes well, 40 year old women may be first time mothers while still looking — and feeling — like 20 year olds.

• Abortion keeps a woman’s body looking hot.

‘Nuff said.

Many pro-choice feminists reading this post outlining my reasons for extolling the virtues of abortion will instinctively recoil in horror, despite my agreeing with them in the abstract. They will do this because my reasoning is to the benefit of men and, secondarily, society. And feminists have no desire to see to the interests of men. Where they are busy trumpeting the “autonomy” of a woman’s body and holding up coat hangers in victory signs, I am taking their arguments to their logical conclusions. But hey, ladies, you cut a deal with the devil when you wrested the power of the grim reaper, and now you have to accept the afterbirth of that decision. You have, unwittingly, made life easier for guys like me.

When you dance with the devil, the devil don’t change…
he changes you.

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Wii Love

There is a lot of unspoken tension on the first two dates. Until you’ve had sex with a girl, that tension will always be there, and can’t be resolved until clothes are off and bodies pressing. This tension is good — it serves to keep both of you mentally sharp so you put your best face forward, and it motivates you to find a way to relieve the tension in sex. This is why when a girl decides after a lackluster first date that the guy is not worth banging she feels disappointment more than relief as the tension fizzles.

But too much tension makes you stiff and nervous. Then you’ll try too hard to compensate for how you’re feeling, anything to alleviate the discomfort. This is where the Wii shines. Next time you go out on a date tell her you’re taking her to a place that has Wii bowling. Watch her eyes light up!

The Wii is great for relieving the negative nervous tension while sustaining the positive sexual tension. You’re bumping into each other, you’re swinging your arms, you’re standing behind her guiding her arm on proper Wii bowling technique, and you’re making fun of each other. Wii boxing works, too. Imagine the unbridled joy of popping your virtual date with an uppercut. Actually, her joy will be greater. All girls secretly harbor a hidden desire to physically pummel the guys they are attracted to.

And the Wii characters are cute and cartoonish which appeals to a girl’s sensibility. Make sure she has a couple drinks in her before playing. Inebriated Wii torques the burning lust.

Close the deal with naked Wii Fit.

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Dumping American Women

A fine writer I would want to sit down with for a few stiff drinks in a shady smoke-filled South Asian bar is Fred Reed. His website is blocked by my company’s firewall as hate speech, so you know he can’t be all that bad. He wrote recently about his trip to Bangkok:

—I got here two nights ago, out of Taipei into Bangkok’s new airport, Savannapun. It’s huge, well-designed, classy. As always when I come to these parts I think, “Holy rikshas, Batman, this place is on a roll.” Just so. There is a dynamism in much of Asia that you don’t see in Latin America. Below the Rio Grande you find a couple of modern countries, Argentina and Chile for example—almost the only examples. Yet the whole region seems stagnant, as if it already is what it is going to be. Not here. Asia rocks. Peoria hasn’t noticed but, I promise, it will, and that before long.

Fred, no beta he, has come to the conclusion, like the growing chorus of American men who have spent time overseas, that American women don’t measure up to the international competition.

By night the clubs abound in sleek lovely Thai girls preying on the gringos. Or the other way around: It isn’t always clear. They are so very pretty and make Western women look like camels by comparison—this being the universal view of Caucasian men here. […]

I mentioned Thai women. Despite the sordid reputation arising from the sex industry, Thai women are no looser than any others, and in fact most of them aren’t accessible at all to westerners who don’t speak Thai. To a close approximation, this means no westerners. But the Thai women are, well, ladies. By this I mean not that they went to finishing school, but rather that you can distinguish them from drunken sailors or abandoned mattresses. They are not crass. They dress well. They seem to regard themselves as women, not as wannabe men, and even to think that being a woman is a good thing. Thank god.

This could equally be said of Mexican women of Chinese women, of most women everywhere, except North America.

He, like myself and a lot of my friends who do well with the ladies, wonders if his negative reaction to American women is a personal hang-up.

Now, if I were the only man who took a very dim view of American women, it would be reasonable to dismiss me as a crank. In fact it would be unreasonable not to. It becomes more interesting when the judgement is nearly universal among large numbers of men—and it is.

Everywhere I go outside of the US, the American men I meet speak of their horror of sexless, hostile, ill-bred American women. Sure, there are exceptions and degrees among the gringas. Most unfortunately, exceptions is what they are. The delight with feminine foreign women is given, over and over, as a major reason for expatriation. (The other big reason is disgust with governmental regulation of everything in the US.) I have friends married to Thai, Filipina, Chinese, and Mexican wives, all delighted. Me too.

How did this come about? I don’t know, but I’m not imagining it.

Nope, it’s not us. American women really have changed for the worse. The verdict is in. Pump and dump them and find your wife in another land where women are happy to be women.

Unlike Fred, I have written before about the cultural changes that have transmogrified our women into she-devils. I offered alternatives here. Most men will not travel to other countries to taste the honey-dipped sweetness of what they could have; they will stay comfortably rooted to their miserable lives not realizing how easy it would be for them to step away from American women into a paradise of feminine delights. Most people don’t even leave the small towns they grew up in, let alone their country of birth.

Personally, I have done well with American chicks and not all of them were jaded afeminine ballcutters (some were in fact quite sweet), but seducing and loving them required a level of game and cynicism that would baffle men in other parts of the world. They may very well ask me: “All that for an American camel?”

I suspect if I spent a decent amount of time in the Eastern European country of my choosing learning their language and customs, my superior training dealing with American women would give me a huge leg up attracting foreign girls.

privet!

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When Men And Women Can Be Friends

Over at Alias Clio, a blog I occasionally read, I posted the following comment on a thread about niceguys and their eternal torment trapped in the LJBF zone:

…no man wants to be a cute girl’s emotional tampon. fulfilling her emotional needs while having his physical needs denied is a one way street to bitterness. women with real sympathy for men’s sexual needs would not put a lovelorn niceguy through the anguishing ringer of platonic friendship. but most women (and men) don’t possess that kind of empathy and selflessness for the opposite sex. women simply get too much benefit from having what pickup artists call “orbiters” feeding their egos by doting on them and listening to them drone about their badboy BFs without having to put out.

male-female friendships only work when neither are physically attracted to the other, and they *partially* work when 1) the woman is attracted to the man but he isn’t attracted to her or 2) he is attracted to her but getting lots of action from other women.

in fact, the best course to follow for the man who wants his choice in women is to cultivate lots of hot female friends who can act as “pivots” and “social proof” for picking up other women. this will be difficult to manage if he’s in the midst of a dry spell because his unquenched lust will envelop him like a repellent shroud and make the normal to-and-fro of friendship building an excruciating ordeal, mostly for him but in time for her, too. it is much easier to be friends with attractive women when the man is in a perpetual state of sexual satiation.

I’ve thought about this and I believe what I wrote is an accurate description of reality. Men and women simply cannot be friends unless certain conditions are met.

• Mutual lack of attraction

This is easy. When there’s no loin burning to get in the way a girl buddy is like a guy buddy, except you can dump on her about your dating troubles and give your opinion of in-season colors without getting laughed at. Just remember you’re not going to talk about the same things with a girl buddy. She won’t tolerate hours of analysis about AMD vs Intel or your fantasy baseball team, and in return she’ll curb her urge to discuss shoes with you ad nauseum. An honest and trustworthy girl buddy makes an excellent fashion consultant and, if she’s not hideous looking, a valuable addition to your game as a pivot (a girl who will make you look good in clubs and help you meet other women).

Unfortunately, very few women that you would want to be seen with in public qualify as true 100% friend material. You’re limited to fat chicks, ugly chicks (4s and below), and older women who are crashing headlong into the wall. All other women, even the plain ones, will at some point be seen by guys as sex objects, because our straydar for sex opportunities is always active. Probably the best the average man can hope for is a 95% friendship with a 5 or 6 rating girl where he occasionally risks the friendship 5% of the time drunkenly announcing his intention to make sweet love to her cleavage.

• One way attraction, girl to guy

Girls find it easier to keep their sex drives in check, which is why they can retain their sanity while remaining friends with uninterested guys they are attracted to far longer than the reverse scenario. Men who are attracted to their girl buddies cannot stay friends for long without either making a sloppy move and killing the friendship or sacrificing their last ounce of dignity as they go insane from blue balls toxic shock. But for women in this position, it’s a house of cards. With enough time, this type of friendship will eventually dissolve in drama, as happened to me once when a female roommate left our apartment overnight because I didn’t feel the same way about her. (FYI: girls turn bathrooms into pigsties.)

• One way attraction, player to girl

There is only one way a single man can be friends with a woman he wants to bang and that’s when his balls are so drained from fucking other women that he feels no testicular pressure to act on his desire. You’ll notice that a typical sexually satisfied alpha has lots of hot girl acquaintances he doesn’t bother gaming because the effort required is not worth the very small marginal increase in pleasure or risk of losing the girls as social proof and as friends. This is really the ideal short-term situation to be in for a man — swimming in pussy and therefore able to tolerate and even enjoy the friendship of unavailable hot girls without being overwhelmed by lust to corrupt their friendship status with intimate jackhammering. But in the long-term, the underlying male animal lust for a hot girl buddy must resolve itself, and even the most well-fed man will devour a filet mignon if it’s put on a plate in front of him every day. My advice: It’s best to take hot girl buddies in small doses. Like for two hours on a Friday night in a bar where you can leverage their hot friendship to build your harem with new recruits.

• The man is married or in a relationship

If you’re looking to be a cool friend to hot chicks without falling victim to the temptation to hit on them, you can acquire this noble virtue on the cheap by shackling your vice within the artificial prison of marriage or exclusive relationships. (Note: The opposite doesn’t work — most men will sleep with a hot married woman given the chance and in spite of the risk.) This is the foolproof method for betas to be relaxed and emotionally stable friends with attractive girls they’d love to bang. They simply tell themselves that they already have a girl waiting for them at home who they love very much or, if they don’t love her, who would be really pissed if they cheated on her, and so the pressure is off. They can therefore rationalize their asexual acquiescence to LJBFdom as a pose of moral rectitude. This self-hypnosis is a convenient veneer for washed-up betas out of the game, for if a genuine opportunity arose with one of their hot friends they’d suddenly feel the psychic strain of battling real temptation, and all that happy clappy harmless niceguy friend posturing would buckle under the heaving mass of their juiced up lust. This is why the beta who stays faithful to his wife is less virtuous than the alpha who does the same.

• She’s on the internet and you can’t see her in person

Pretty simple trick to be platonic with a chick when she’s a flick on your monitor and a thousand miles away.

***

Final Thoughts

The beta niceguy who has a girl buddy he secretly wants to screw is not really a friend to her at all, and vice versa. To the exploitative girl, he is merely a tool to massage her ego, abetting her puling therapeutic self-absorbed shit that no alpha male friend would ever tolerate. To the beta, her friendship is just a complicated schematic for finding some backchannel weasely way into her pants as substitute for his lack of courage to bust a move and dignity to walk away when his feelings aren’t reciprocated.

And that’s the core problem for betas. They are so afraid they’ll never find a girl who will love them that they’d rather degrade themselves clinging endlessly to unsympathetic girl buddies under the pretense that maybe one day she’ll see the lion inside and finally succumb to his charms. The LJBF racket has had a monopoly on weak men for a long time, possibly since the first caveman consoled a cavegirl bitching about her tribal leader boyfriend by letting her nuzzle into his shoulder as he said “there, there” and struggled against a mighty boner under his furs.

My advice to LJBF’ed betas would be to drop the whole idea of being friends with attractive women until they have gotten some actual experience fucking women, rather than experience holding excruciatingly sterile platonic conversations with them about the minutiae of their lives.

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The Gayest Show On Earth

The circus is a great daytime event to take a girl for a third date. It’s thooper dooper gay, because the performers are very happy and always smiling. The spectators are smiling, the clowns are smiling, everyone is gay and joyous. So fabulously gay! The happy smiling gayness puts your date in a positive upbeat mood, even if the brat sitting next to her got cotton candy in her hair. Plus, it gives you and her plenty to ridicule, including all the kids in the audience on sugar highs, and as we know nothing bonds like shared mockery. Making fun of people has been the catalyst for sexual congress for thousands of generations.

Girls holding hands in the club are circus elephants. The girl in the lead dragging her friends around is the alpha elephant. The fattest elephant was the caboose.

Here are the girls complimenting each other on how good their asses look in those new jeans.

I caught the human cannonball mid-blast. His trajectory and distance reminded me of my jizzbombs. I wished my money shots made the cannon noise.

The guy standing on the elephant is the central circus character. He’s sort of a half-clown, half-Shakespearean tragic figure for the 21st century who pretends to pine for one of the beautiful trapeze artists. His clown makeup was not the scary kind with the big red nose and lips. He just had tall hair and maybe some pastel colored lip gloss which I’m told was poppin’. I read that clown school is more selective than Harvard, so only the best graduate and go on to work for one of the major circus outfits, like Ringling or Cirque du Soleil. It showed. This guy was a Renaissance man, skilled in acrobatics, athletics, fashion, drama, and animal husbandry. My date was ogling him. I began to regret my choice of venue.

There was padding under the high wire. Big letdown. The high wire guy was Latino, the human pyramid balancing act was Chinese, and the lion tamer was East European. Stereotypes R Us.

I like this photo. I caught the tiger in mid diving ass rape. Surprize buttsecks!

I wrote before about planning creative dates if you want to build a stronger emotional bond with a girl. The circus definitely fits that bill, and judging by the number of couples I saw there mixed in with all the families I’m not the only one who follows the wisdom of my words. A good idea for those masochists who are dating lawyers is to bring her to the circus and if she doesn’t crack a smile once or bitches about the uncomfortable seats you can pay off one of the clowns to harass her with animal balloons shaped like overgrown clits.

Aside from its date potential, I was a little disappointed by the whole spectacle. The circus is a major production now, polished, snappy, and fast-paced, all business no heart. Kiosk after kiosk sold cheap plastic trinkets to shovel into the consumerist maw. It wouldn’t be out of place in the Mall of America. There were no monkeys in hats on organ grinders. No animals taking dumps in the middle of the ring. No poop or hay smells. No bearded ladies, tri-breasted midgets, fire breathers, knife throwers, or Siamese twins. I was hoping for the old grimy circuses of yore you always see in the movies; the ones where you could go behind the big tent and catch a few angry looking balding clowns playing a game of poker and drinking gin through crazy straws. Maybe one of them tells you to “Get lost, kid!” and you find yourself backing into the psychic’s tent who curses in Latin and hisses like a snake when she pulls the Goatse card for you.

No such luck. The only freaks there were the PETA protestors. You can blame the fucking lawyers for this.

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State Of Nature

I don’t think people realize just how much condoms and the pill have altered human sexual behavior. To prove this, let’s examine the sexual history of the average alpha male with a healthy sex drive:

10 partners per year.
approximately 1.5 copulations per day for ~545 copulations per year.
about 55 copulations per partner.

Now of course none of this matters in the era of contraception since the odds of him getting any of these girls accidentally pregnant is near zero, assuming he is strict in his adherence to protecting himself from baby blackmail and the girl is not lying about being on the pill. Most guys, especially alphas who have high risk temperaments, aren’t that self-disciplined and get sloppy once in a while and blast inside, so the chance of fertilization is a little higher than zero. It’s probably more like an elevated risk of conception for 1% of the yearly 545 copulations, or 6 copulations randomly distributed have a better than zero chance of turning into 18 years of living hell. Extrapolating outward 10 years, the average alpha male would wind up with one unwanted child. Abortion being the cure for what ails ya, even that unlikely scenario wouldn’t come to fruition.

What are the consequences in a pre-contraceptive world? Using the copulation numbers above and assuming the same high risk and sloppy behavior of the average alpha, a girl who didn’t have access to the pill or abortion and a guy who didn’t have regular access to a reliable condom (which was the case for most of human history) would run a much higher risk of accidental pregnancy. Let’s say he pulls out successfully 80% of the time and the remaining 20% of copulations he isn’t fast enough and a little of his juice spills inside her. Of that high risk 20% (109 copulatory events) 5% result in conception. That’s 5 unwanted pregnancies per year, folks, spread out over five different partners.

If you don’t think that massively transformed risk-reward structure would have any effect on human behavior you are living in a fantasyland. Pre-contraception, women were probably more chaste and permitted internal blasts primarily with provider betas they could be sure wouldn’t leave them in case of pregnancy. Men, for their part, were less likely to pump and dump in favor of winning over these chaste girls with displays of resources. Alpha males still scored better than average amounts of pussy, but the sexual playing field was more level. With abortion, the pill, and ribbed condoms women exercised their liberation from reproductive consequence by rewarding the caddish alpha males with more sex than they knew what to do with.

The pill has been the beta’s worst enemy.

I made a rough calculation in my head how many kids I would have if contraceptives didn’t exist. The number is sobering. At least 125 mini-mes would be roaming the plains of America, and France, today. Luckily, I only have to spend a few hours each year visiting my nieces and nephews, which is a level of commitment that suits me well.

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