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Archive for the ‘Feminist Idiocy’ Category

For those of you new to the Chateau, the rationalization hamster (original hamster — O.H. — introduced here) is a descriptive term for the typical woman’s tendency to rationalize her decisions to fulfill herself sexually such that her personal culpability in making the sex happen is removed or reduced. Since that original definition, the rationalization hamster has come to acquire a broader meaning, encapsulating all the odd little mental tricks that women (and sometimes men) do in service to their glowing self-conceptions.

Psychological projection, in its conventionally understood sense, is attributing to others feelings or motives that you yourself possess, but are uncomfortable acknowledging or unable to perceive in yourself. In dating market parlance, projection is a form of rationalization for an opposite sex’s idealized behavior. For instance, women often project onto men their own expectations and attraction triggers, fooling themselves into believing that what they desire in men is what men must desire in them, (or, similarly, that what women dislike in men must be what men dislike in women).

FYI, men, especially inexperienced beta males, project their desires onto women as well, though this particular self-deception is more commonly found in use among women, (for reasons that have been explained in previous posts, namely, the paradox that women have more to gain from their self-deception). A good example of a low N beta male projecting his desires onto women is the man who believes that women will only be intrigued by him for his looks, because that’s what he primarily desires in women.

The reason I bring this up is because I swoon with anticipation in presenting to you, CH celebrated readers, what I consider one of, if not THE, best representations of female psychological projection ever put to print. The article is titled, ‘8 Reasons Why You Should Marry The Complicated Girl’, and, if you check the authoress’s accompanying photo, the listicle was compiled by what appears to be a high testosterone woman with a glare so evil she could make the Grinch recoil in horror.

First, she begins by explaining the basis for her theory,

I am not simple. I am a challenge for any man, I will admit. As hard as I try to be the simple girl, it is just not in my nature to be one. I demand more from everyone because I see great potential.

I only want the best for myself and for my partner, so I will never just go along with some semblance of a mediocre, passionless relationship.

An unevolved man or a boy will always want the simple girl. He doesn’t want to have to work hard for anything, especially not a relationship. He doesn’t want to be challenged or confronted.

But, a real man knows that by being with a complicated girl, he will be better for it.

So, essentially, slander is the basis for her grand theory of male-female relationship dynamics. “Unevolved” men want simple (i.e., kindhearted) girls; “real” men want complicated (i.e., drama-prone) girls.

Her eight points are a gold mine of accidentally revealed preference… that is, her own revealed preference for what SHE wants in men, not what men want in women.

Marry the girl who tells you exactly what she expects and follows through.

Men who aren’t named John Scalzi despise domineering women. Women, in contrast, have shown a noted proclivity for enjoying the company of decisive men with leadership qualities.

Marry the girl who demands your respect.

Girls are respected when they earn that respect, not when they demand it. However, men who make inordinate demands on women do tend to get rewarded sexually for their impertinence.

Marry the girl who can talk politics, even if her opinions are different from yours.

Again, pure female projection. Nothing, other than obesity or a secret penis, kills a man’s incipient boner faster than a girl who is jabbering about politics on a date and is making a point of defying the man’s opinion. Women, otoh, do feel delicious yearnings for men who have strong opinions and stand their ground in the face of opposition.

Marry the girl whose eyes flicker with passion about a number of different subjects.

Translation: “Please marry me for the same reasons I want to marry you, oh passionate and learned man whose eyes flicker with life about a number of different subjects.”

Marry the girl who won’t let you get away with slacking on your talents.

Nag. Even a died-and-uncool male feminist will weary of a nag in time. But women do love a man who qualifies them as worthy partners.

Marry the girl who pushes you to be better every day.

Demanding potentate. But women do love a man who keeps them on their toes and away from the pints of ice cream. What she’s really admitting is that she wants to craft a man to be more like the type of alpha male who turns her on. This doesn’t translate into what men desire in women, though.

Marry the girl with whom you sometimes fight.

Drama queen. These kinds of girls love the pre-sex fight as much as they love the post-fight sex. Men just love the post-fight sex. Most men would be glad to jump straight to the post-fight sex without actually having the fight.

Marry the girl who is your equal or greater.

And here it is. Distilled female rationalization hamster projection. Pure femergy. Men don’t want women who are their “equal or greater”. Men want sexy, pretty, young(er) women with a feminine, more or less submissive disposition. It’s women who strongly desire an “equal or greater” lover, because women are viscerally attracted to mentally, physically, and emotionally strong men.

Post-list, the funny keeps on giving:

My dad always says the thing that attracted him most to my mom was the fact that she was smarter than him.

Gullible, thy name is desperately ego-assuaging woman.

Only a real man can say that and know it’s good for him.

Or a smart man who knows that empty flattery works on aging wives.

Don’t get me wrong; a complicated girl who is not yet mature will be a pain in the ass.

Define “mature”. (Answer: It never arrives.)

She will pick fights with you about everything, and you will always feel like a failure in her presence because you won’t know how to make her happy. But, with a little experience and wisdom, this is the girl who will become wife material.

Maybe the reason why men don’t want to commit to attention whores like herself is because they can see the writing on the wall. Just a thought?

And, once she’s at that point, you better never let her get away, or you’ll risk losing the best thing you ever had.

High blood pressure?

In some respects, this is one of the saddest, and most textbook, feminist limbic blurts I’ve read. Pained by men who have rejected her need for screed, she, like many women, refuses to look at herself squarely and instead puts all the onus on men to accept that they are really attracted to girls like her, and only men’s unevolved immaturity is holding them back from realizing this about themselves.

Yet again, a sterling display of a woman avoiding the consequences for her actions. The best thing she could do for herself — deep examination of her off-putting drama whore behavior and steps to correct it — she won’t do. Those eyes say it all:

“I am woman, hear me roar for validation.”

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A University president was fired by the school board for talking sense about personal responsibility and advising women on the effective means available to reduce their chances of sexual assault or romantic disappointment.

Jennings, who to no avail apologized for his comments before his firing,

Never apologize. It only incites the barbarians to pick through your bones.

still insists that his critics are taking the YouTube video out of context. But even the truncated version casts doubt on why he has been ridden out of town on a rail. The video excerpt begins with Jennings saying he’s going to let the women in on “a little secret”: “Men treat you, treat women the way women allow us to treat them. . . . We will use you up, if you allow us to use you up,” he said. “Well, guess what? When it comes time for us to make that final decision, we’re going to go down the hall and marry that girl with the long dress on. That’s one we’re going to take home to Mama. There is something about the way you carry yourself and respect yourself that commands and demands respect from us.” At this point, the video shows the female crowd clapping in agreement.

Slutty women get used like sluts. This was conventional, even trite, wisdom not that long ago, but today is apparently crimethink that can get you fired.

Then came the statement that clearly sank Jennings’s presidency (he may still have tenure as a professor): “I’m saying this because, first and foremost, don’t put yourself in a situation that would cause you to be trying to explain something that really needs no explanation, had you not put yourself in that situation.”

When the speech excerpt appeared on YouTube, it created an uproar. Marybeth Gasman, a University of Pennsylvania education professor, said it showed that “the president blames young women for being raped by saying that when they have sex with someone and regret the act, they then create a story [of rape] to explain it.”

Some women do this. Regret Rape is a real social phenomenon. But feminists and their enablers would rather light the torches and brandish the pitchforks against anyone who dares practice the sorcery of noticing the bad behavior of women.

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As most CH readers know by now, a gaudy account of alleged gang rape at a University of Virginia fraternity (Rapegate) was exposed as a hoax, or, more charitably, as a freakin’ lie. Many feminists and lapdog betaboys were left shell-shocked by the sudden undermining of their religious belief.

This isn’t the first rape hoax. The Duke lacrosse stripper rape never happened. And more recently, Lena Dunham, SWPL heroine, was outed as a fabulist for concocting a story about a “Republican conservative” who raped her in college. In Dunham’s case, she named a man. Hopefully he will sue her to kingdom come.

What makes the current false rape accusation (FRA) craze so dissonant is that it’s happening in a social climate where actual reported rapes are in decline and at a 40-year low, at least among whites. It’s almost as if feminists WANT to gin up a rape culture because the current rape-less society they live in is unsatisfactory to them.

The Jane Jones hysteria demands explanation. What is motivating all these rape hoaxes? I have some theories.

1. “Rape-culture culture”, driven by white females, and particularly by academic white females of a highly ethnocentric minority tribe (Erdely, Merlan), and targeted primarily against the white fraternity brother archetype, is revealed hatred of a certain majority group’s men for being, well, what they are: The tribal bogeyman. Sexual desire for these men and warped shame for feeling that desire must underlie some of that irrational hatred.

2. Rapegate is the proxy mechanism by which underattractive white females get to express their true resentment of the sexual aggression of black men and the asexual indifference of white men. As iSteve commenter countenance writes,

Because “rape culture” is how white men in frat houses get the blame for black men raping white women.

White women do get real raped (and sometimes killed)… disproportionately by black men who look like this guy:

But of course, because race is the ultimate totem of intra-white status whoring, academic white females can’t come out and say “Hey, a lot of black guys are raping us.” So they release that anger through a convenient proxy: white frat bros. And why are white frat bros, mostly harmless even when drunk, the preferred alternative rape culture oppressor? Because they don’t give unattractive feminists the time of day. Thus, their expediency as punching bags for feminists is rooted in the latter’s resentment at being overlooked as sex objects by high mate value white men.

3. The sex ratio on college campuses — 60%+ women and rising — favors men in the dating market. Female students are thus put into a position, by virtue of their natural hypergamous instincts, of being one of the shared side dishes of a popular male student, of dating less desirable nerd betas, or of getting shut out of the dating market altogether. At the margins, this lopsided sex ratio and its consequences will cause some mentally unbalanced women (feminists) to act out like lunatics.

4. This is the darkest theory, and the one therefore favored by CH priests. Rape fantasy is a staple of subliterary erotica, aka female porn. A fair number of women are sexually and romantically aroused by violent men. Death rows are filled with the clutter of love letters and even marriage proposals from swooning women. Lurid rape hysteria really may be psychological projection of lurid sex fantasy in a world full of sexless betaboy drones. It’s a parsimonious explanation for Lena Dunham’s obsessing over a “Republican conservative” man having sex with her many years ago, and her current transmogrification of that consensual event into a latter day Regret Rape political stance. Five minutes of right-wing alpha. She just cannot get enough of that memory of real man cock. Manlet SJWs, limp-wristed male feminists, and slobbering white knights will never get this about rock-ribbed feminists: Most of them despise the company of the weak men they feel forced to endure. These feminist rape-mongers dream of being assertively taken by a strong man torqued with unstoppable lust. (Related: I have a theory that women secretly desire men of opposite political persuasion, and that the reason most couples align politically is largely a result of convenience sorting and arid subconscious calculations of child characteristics.)

***

Some sadistic thinkers dismiss feminism as a relevant social force. I disagree with them. For example, look at this latest feminist flop; will the rancid ideology finally pay a price? UVA is Peak Feminism, right? No wait, that was Duke lacrosse. No, it was Lena Dunham. Seems Peak Feminism has yet to arrive. Lesson: Feminists benefit from power elite shielding. Individual feminists may be mentally unhinged and emotionally scorched, but their insipid politics finds its way into government and private policies. Women in the military, Title IX, affirmative consent laws, and bans on paternity testing, to name a few. Feminist propaganda matters. It has real world consequences that victimize real men, in ways direct and indirect. The Hivemind masters — the Lords of Lies — protect feminists from their own malignancy and prevent them from suffering due punishment for their slander and caustic beliefs.

Everything rotten about 2014 America is exposed by rape and race hoaxes: Leftoid duplicity, media boosterism, anti-white male animus. CH is doing its part to help bring balance to the force, which has tilted for too long in the direction of the Snark Side. But we can only do so much. Others must step up. You can start here: A website devoted to exposing corruption among our journalistic, political, and academic elite. Call them out on their lies, record it for posterity, ruin their reputations, and hope that the righteous backlash has only begun to start.

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Inspired by the subversively realist Shoshana Roberts catcall video, a hundred “Ten Hours of [X] Walking in NYC” parody videos have sprung up like facial scruff on Amanda Marcotte. This is a good one:

“Judge me by my size, do you?” :lol:

Mockery is the best tonic for feminist idiocy. I can smell the feminist butthurt. *sniff sniff* I detect notes of hairy asscrack.

***

This video would’ve reached epic status if it ended with Chewbacca sidling up and roaring at her, and she gives him her number.

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I dare you to watch this all the way through without feeling at least a small gurgle of nausea.

Feminism For Bros (level 105) is a PSA by a group called “Centre for Gender Advocacy”, based in Montreal, associated with something called The Consensual Collective. I imagine corporate headquarters is a coffeehouse office where two manlets and a chubby cunt get together to project their confused sexuality and self-loathing onto normal people. The video shows a couple, (mostly the vaguely male hipster), asking for verbal consent at each step of foreplay. Unedited footage taken five years into the future shows him asking her if he may briefly appear naked in front of his now-wife while he dresses in the morning. She asks if she may shove her prized buttplug up his rectum. He assents.

“Can I kiss you?” “Can I put my hand here?” “Can I take your shirt off?”

Bzzt! Rebuffed! Her shirt stays on. They go back to loud kissing that sounds like an octopus pulling its tentacles off wet glass.

“Can I kiss your neck?” “Can I take off your shirt?”

This time he gets the green light. Not really sure what difference waiting ten seconds to approve his shirt-removal request made for the girl.

“Can I kiss you… there?”

He points to her sternum, that well-known erogenous zone on women.

“Can I go down on you?”

Of course, this faggot opts to mash his face in her pussy before banging her. OF COURSE. Pre-sex cunnilingus is 99% of times a huge beta male tell.

“CONSENT IS FUN”

No it’s not when it has to be verbalized every five seconds in a cloud of gnawing fear that a presumptuous ear nibble could lead to a rape accusation.

“CONSENT IS SEXY”

No it’s not, and telling yourself that won’t make it so.

“CONSENT IS SAFE”

Pretty sure gonorrhea is transmissible with or without consent. And there’s no way this manlet is overpowering the girl.

“CUTV”

So close.

I hope this video was a parody, because if not, then the people involved with this shit, or people who would seriously entertain its message, are down with the sickness that has no cure.

Coitus interruptus, meet passion interruptus. I can’t think of much that would kill the mood faster than asking for permission to escalate foreplay and slip the tip in. A barrage of mewling inquiries, however smokily whispered, makes whiskey dick seem like the pinnacle of bedroom prowess. Fatrelle whipping out his micropeen and flicking it to life with his porky pinky would be less likely to spoil the moment than a guy following BRO FEMINISM verbal consent guidelines.

Anyone who’s been with non-psychotic non-feminist girls (or, if you’re a woman, with men who aren’t afraid of their penes) knows how this works: The heat of the moment carries both of you forward through sexual escalation, wordlessly (unless you’re into actual dirty talk), clothes flying everywhere, hands exploring, mouths traveling great expanses of flesh, until panties are tugged off and sex ushers a symphony of moans. Consent is implied, usually, by the girl not saying “no” or pushing herself off the man.

This is what normal human beings whose brains weren’t hijacked by parasites do. As a female commenter at Total Frat Move put it:

As a girl, if a guy can’t take at least some control, it’s a turn off. If a girl doesn’t want sex then she will say so. If I want you, you’ll be able to tell. This was ridiculous.

Most feminist agitprop amounts to unattractive or psychologically defective women running from that scary and confusing female desire to submit to a dominating man, and grappling with those feelings that remind them of their vulnerable femaleness by neutering any man foolish enough to pursue them. A man who obeys feminist pique is a man who is never getting laid, and that’s the point. This stuff helps filter out weak betas who are too insecure to give women what they really want: A sexually entitled man who doesn’t second-guess his allure.

Males who are into this game are poseurs angling for broken snatch, genuine androgynous misfits play-acting revenge fantasies against the jocks who flipped their lunch trays, or sexually parched spergs who can’t read nonverbal arousal cues.

ps The reader who sent this clip wrote, “I love America, but I’m moving.” This sentiment must be shared by more men every day who watch this freak parade of putrescence shamble over the remnants of a once vital culture.

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“joe” writes,

Shoshana used to live in my current city, and was actively involved in my blues dance group. I don’t remember meeting her, but after my local dance lady friends started posting this video, some bragging about knowing her, a quick Facebook search showed that we have over 20 mutual friends. With that said, two of my male dance friends are “red pillers”, and both contacted me to via private message to share their thoughts. For starters, both were quick to mention her tits, each saying how unabashedly proud of their being real that she is. One said that it’s entirely common for her to regularly wear revealing tops (no surprise there), and the other said that she danced with him in his living room, topless (“I assure you that they are real”, she apparently told him).

In short, we have a good, ‘ol fashioned attention whore. Now, let it be known that my being lover of women, I am not opposed to women flaunting their feminine figures; though, I do take issue with their both doing that and then crying “street harassment” when men take notice. Correction, they take issue when men whom they don’t deem as being sexually desirous take issue.

As I said, I don’t recall ever meeting Shoshana, though I surmise that our paths will eventually cross, assuming that she’ll find her way at my town’s annual blues dance festival, or that I go blues dancing in Manhattan on my next visit.

The attention whore epidemic continues to rage.

Ideally, what (attractive) women want is a world arranged to their liking, which means a world where lesser men know their place — silent, retiring, respectful, and unassuming — and alpha males — the top 10% of all men — are permitted to admire their beauty in however a manner they see fit.

This world will never happen because convincing 90% of men to essentially neuter themselves is like persuading a fat feminist to slim down and behave sweetly. Men are wired for the hunt, women are wired to be hunted. All the liberty-curtailing laws and thoughtcrime witch hunts in the world won’t change the fact that the prey will never dictate to the predators which of them may participate in the chase, the catch, and the consumption. A hungry man has little incentive to obey rules that perpetuate his hunger.

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Lena Dunham is quite the classy lady.

Dunham writes of casually masturbating while in bed next to her younger sister, of bribing her with “three pieces of candy if I could kiss her on the lips for five seconds . . . anything a sexual predator might do to woo a small suburban girl I was trying.” At one point, when her sister is a toddler, Lena Dunham pries open her vagina — “my curiosity got the best of me,” she offers, as though that were an explanation. “This was within the spectrum of things I did.” […]

Lena Dunham never actually writes that she was raped by a mustachioed campus Republican named Barry at Oberlin College. She leads up to it with a long story about her childhood misuse of the word “rape” — she accuses her little sister of raping her and tells people that her father sticks a fork in her vagina when she misbehaves — and dwells on her lifelong fear of being raped. She describes two different versions of the same sexual encounter, in the latter version insisting that she did not consent to what happened. And in a remarkably dishonest turn, she has other people describe the event as “rape,” thereby dodging any intellectual or moral responsibility for making the claim herself. […]

Dunham’s writing all this is, needless to say, a gutless and passive-aggressive act. Barry is not a character in a book; he is a real person, one whose life is no doubt being turned upside down by a New York Times No. 1 best-seller containing half-articulated accusations that he raped a woman in college, accusations that are easily connected to him. Dunham won’t call him a rapist, but she is happy to use other people as sock puppets to call him a rapist. She doesn’t use his full name, but she surely knows how easily it can be found. She wouldn’t face him in a court of law, but she’ll lynch him in print.

This is the last time I’ll write a post about Lena Dunham until she drowns herself in an extra-wide bathtub *fingers crossed*.

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