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Archive for the ‘Feminist Idiocy’ Category

It would have been even funnier if the pilot had released a load of kitty litter on the crowd.

(Via gabber @bombbelt)

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There used to be a “sex positive” feminist who would comment here and offer up such breathtakingly backward Feminist Cunt Wave boilerplate on men and women that I started to appreciate her cuntributions for their usefulness as reminders of the self-medicating delusions that modren society inculcates in the sexual market losers of our age. Whatever she wrote, I would tell readers, take the opposite to be the truth.

She never posted a pic of herself from what I recall, but her comments were written in the unmistakable “aging, fading slut” style, filled with the caustic, slut pride snark which our current crop of pussyhatters think is funny, that belied a life nursing spiteful man-hate. Imagine a Nordic feminist-Jewish feminist recombination, with a touch of commercialist Anglo feminist, seasoned to a sarcastic spiciness by the rapid approach of the Wall, and twisted into a false braggadocio of her receding sexual ensnareline and her ability to manipulate men to do her bidding, and you have a good idea of this woman’s character. I could practically see her stringy blond hair with streaks of gray, and her manjaw strengthened from years of cock gobbling and chewing out pretty subordinates.

In sum, she was a “Swipe Left Broad”, from both sides of the swiping ledger. If Tinder was around then, (not sure if it was), she’d’ve bragged about swiping left on tons of thirsty guys while she herself was the recipient of numerous left swipes.

AnyHO, one time the topic was broached about what to say to a date (or potential mate) inquiring about your sexual history. I had written that men shouldn’t run away from a storied sexual past, because girls are attracted to men who are successful with girls (preselection is a powerful predictive evopsych theory). I also wrote that men should avoid openly bragging about their notches — it would strike any normal girl as try-hard desperation — but instead to couch their personal history of successful womanizing in ambiguous or teasing language. For example,

GIRL: You seem like a player. How many women have you been with?

TRUMP’S PUSSYGRABBING ID: Counting Alaska?

After my advice, embroiled as it was in a deep understanding and easy acceptance of innate male-female psychosexual differences, landed in the combox, Swipe Left Broad chimed in, acrid spittle nearly flying off the screen, to inform the assembled that her go-to line when a man inquires about her sexual history was:

“I lost count.”

Of course, I was compelled to spear her with the Shiv of Sexual Realism for her steaming feminist dropping, lest innocent girlies ambling into the free fire zone think her hag-words would be helpful to them. Swipe Left Broad didn’t take kindly to my informing her that a skeleton key which opens a lot of locks is more valuable than a slutty lock that can be opened by many rusty keys. ARGLE BARGLE, she replied, paraphrasing. Collecting herself, “Men love an experienced woman!”

No, men don’t “love” an experienced woman. Men may want to fuck an experienced woman, figuring (rightly) that she’d be an easy lay who will put out with a quickness, but men don’t cherish sluts like they do chaste girls with eyes and gines for their cocks only.

The thought occurred to me in the recounting of this tête-á-termagant that the three words “I lost count” crystallize with pithy efficiency the essential, core difference between the sexes. What works spectacularly to increase a man’s perceived SMV — a smirky allusion to his sexual experience — works equally spectacularly to decrease a woman’s perceived SMV. And in the crucible of this rhetorical clarification we see the power of the female ego when confronted with undeniable sexual market truths about her romantic worth to feed at the trough of self-delusion. Giant, gulping swallows of delusion. Deep-throated delusions. Every delusional drop swallowed, and a pearl of delusion whisked from her chin as an apéritif.

The crucial detail — the one that often trips up those accustomed to years of quaffing ego-assuaging platitudes — is the one embodied in the deepest, truest desires of men and women. These desires aren’t the same, and at the critical mate assessment junctures can be said to be contradictory and competing:

Men desire sex, women desire commitment.

Commitment is a euphemism for resources and protection, and love is the feeling women lean on as assurance they have secured a man’s commitment.

Women desire sex and men desire commitment, too, but these are secondary to the primary impulses which guide each sex, and guide them at especially important times, when life-changing choices are carefully deliberated or acted upon impulsively.

Women want an experienced man, and they project this want of theirs onto men who, for their part, want women willing to go all the way right away regardless of experience or, if the woman under carnal consideration is of exceptional beauty and modesty, want her to have a relatively unsullied sexual history and to at least have the sense to avoid bragging about the numbers of past lovers to whom she lays claim. To a man, a woman’s discretion is the better part of her allure.

It’s a self-defeating assumption women make, which they find out the morning after as their latest “conquest” is scurrying out the door, never to call them again.

This is why a slut bragging about her cock count is repulsive to any man with options, and why a pussyhound alluding to his gash and churn past is intriguing to any woman with a working tingle spigot.

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After you read this incredibly Millennial news story, you’ll understand why I titled this post “The Voluntarily Sexless Marriage” instead of “The Voluntarily Celibate Marriage”. Our platonically married couple isn’t celibate at all; they’re just celibate for each other.

The sexless marriage is a timeless rue with an explainable kernel of pedestrian truth to it, but at least it can be said for men trapped in age-independent sexless marriages that their woeful predicament wasn’t contractually inked before the vows were exchanged. Not so for Tiffany Trump’s newlywed friends:

When New York socialites Quentin Esme Brown and Peter Cary Peterson got hitched in Las Vegas over the weekend in front of a small group of friends — including Tiffany Trump, who acted as the flower girl — they knew that people would make some assumptions. Either they were madly in love or drunk, right? In reality, the best friends said they were neither. They’re planning to make theirs a sexless, open marriage, they explained, and this actually sounds like a pretty wise idea to relationship experts.

100% of chaimstream media approved “relationship experts” are charlatans.

“Sexless marriage”. An irretrievably broken, anhedonic society at war with the reality of innate sex differences takes the one redeeming feature of marriage and tosses it away.

A sexless marriage is pointless, but a sexless, OPEN marriage is just plain malicious, because those super progressive, feminist friendly polyamorous arrangements never benefit both parties equally; it’s usually the slutty woman getting her rocks off down the hall as her moans of ecstasy drive her incel “partner” crazy with murder-suicide ideation.

“He has always been my soulmate in every sense of the word

Women and men have competing definitions of “soulmate”. Men tend to emphasize the “mate” part of the term.

and we felt mutually that Vegas was the place to finalize our commitment to partnership,” Brown explained on Instagram. “Peter and I are not romantically involved — in fact we are still dating others and will continue to seek love in all forms — we are just each other’s hearts and wish to begin our journey towards evolution, because the more we face reality, the more we can see that there is no right or wrong.”

Poopytalk. They’re doing the opposite of facing reality; they’re hiding from it under cover of Clown World’s Cloak of Inchoateness. If Tiffany Trump’s friends are indicative of Tiffany’s own views, it’s no wonder Papa Trump practically disowned her.

Susan Pease Gadoua, a licensed therapist

Licensed to bilk.

and co-author of The New “I Do,” has yet to meet anyone else with this kind of marriage, but she says it fits in with the way she sees many people deciding to change the rules to suit their relationship needs.

Dope. People aren’t changing the rules to suit their piques; they’re lowering their expectations and adapting to the encroaching jungle.

“We don’t need to get married for any of the reasons we used to,”

Including but not limited to reasons such as reproduction and generational continuity.

Gadoua tells Yahoo Lifestyle. “Once you’ve got everything else in place, it is like the cherry on top.”

But Brown and Peterson don’t seem to have married for children. So why get married at all?

The question with no answer that won’t sound like a try-hard rationalization.

“We did this because we wanted to finalize our commitment to each other as life partners and best friends,” Peterson wrote on Instagram.

What happened to mutually presumed and unspoken loyalty between friends? If you have to rely on the imprimatur of State authorization to declare your shared friendship, you don’t have anything remotely resembling a friendship. Instead, you have a pose. Two attention whores jockeying for social status within their group of unloveable weirdos.

Brown also put a statement on Instagram, saying, “I am confident my husband and I will break some walls down,” she wrote.

If your official terms of endearment preclude fucking, he’s not your husband.

Husband:

before 1000; Middle English husband(e), Old English hūsbonda master of the house

You haven’t consecrated a house for him to master. You’re two neutered farm animals who happen to be dozing in the same bed of hay and dried manure.

“A lot of these sorts of marriages are in response to society getting increasingly isolated, and people want to create a kinship model. You either have to be married or you have to be blood relatives; otherwise, you can walk away from each other.”

Like I wrote, adaptation to the r-selected jungle.

This kind of union may in fact last longer than a marriage based solely on intense romantic attraction, Gadoua surmises.

Well, sure. Because it isn’t a marriage. It’s a zero-investment masquerade. It’s easy to let a “sexless, open marriage” linger for eternity because the cost of upkeep and dissolution is negligible. No romantic reward, no romantic risk.

The other advantage is that the friends can seek out those romances outside of this relationship. In this way, their setup resembles the kind of polyamorous arrangement that some couples have found to be a better alternative to divorce.

“Some couples” = a few physically and psychologically repulsive losers who can’t hack it in the human sphere where standards still exist.

“Where the complications are going to come in is when people outside their relationship look at it like, ‘I don’t want to get involved in that,’” Gadoua says. “It’s going to make it a little bit more complicated for them to find partners who understand.”

GIRL: hey I’m free for that drink Thursday, but I should tell you I’m married to a great guy, but we never have sex. It’s in our vows.

THE DEVIL’S HARD BARGAIN: fantastic! you sound totally normal. I’m scratching you in now as my third stringer.

Rodman also cautions that this won’t work if one partner isn’t being entirely honest about what he or she wants in this relationship.

“If one person was secretly hoping that this would turn into something romantic or sexual, then that would be quite the disappointment,” she says.

The Voluntarily Sexless Marriage is the next evolution in beta male bait. Watch for hordes of thirsty betas to jump in with both feet hoping a piece of worthless paper has the power to unplug the tingle spigot.

But if we’re to take Brown and Peterson at their word, they’re pretty happy with their decision so far.

“We have one life,” Brown wrote. “Free yourself!”

Combined IQ: 1

Time for a Phys Quiz. The glowing, and strangely tense, lovebirds:

Hm mm mm. So progressive! Tiffany Trump’s friend married her gay bestie. Cameras and Yahoo blog typists are standing by….

PS I was planning to award Peter Peterson both the coveted Beta of the Month and White Male Pussy of the Month titles, but as you can see from the picture above, those titles aren’t applicable.

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Behold the face of Fair America. Old, tatted up like a common street whore, eyes ablaze with the psychosis of having spent too many years on the cock carousel and in the working world of men with nothing to show for it, and a Very Fake Smile belying a deep well of spinster soulpain.

The reader who emailed this photo explains,

“educated” american female.  She’s a medical doctor, tired, old, used up tatted, and single. Look at the “you go grrl” comments

We have beautiful women. They’re just using them up and burning themselves out on a career

The social media revolution and its consequences have been a disaster for the female sex. The dopaminergic addiction to internet “likes”, and the irresistible compulsion of undersexed beta males to stroke the online egos of bangable girls to pathological tumescence until they’re so deluded to the nature of male sexuality and the inevitability of the Wall that they can no longer perceive a future of sexual invisibility that is the fate of all women, has accelerated the trend toward later marriages and the growing demographic of childless spinsters full of regret for all those eggs lost in time, like tears in rain.

A generation of Forgotten Furies is the tragic detritus of Facecock and Spoogle and Twatter.

Nasty Womanhood, Inc — a wastrel horde of aging pussyhatters and manjawed lawyercunts — now roam the land like lepers, rattling a dusty vagina for a pence of penis and begging for romantic handouts from men who long ago looked past them to their younger and less careerist competition.

The Fempire Shrikes Back, but this episode doesn’t end with Darth Vajeen’s victory over her UGH JEDI WHITE MAN secret crush. Instead, it ends with her sulking back to read 50 Shades of The Force and diddle her dying bean in a grrlaxy far far away.

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Read this depressing but illuminating account by JudgyBitch recalling her wicked mother alienating her and her siblings from their father, and how it affected the children. At the end, a redemption and the victory of truth will lift your spirits, because this is one sad tale that is repeated all too many times in post-America.

There are two pills to swallow from this story. A Red Pill on the divorce industrial complex and how it effectively shields bad mothers and wives from punishment while shafting fathers and husbands with extreme prejudice, and a Crimson Pill on the primal sexual nature of even good-hearted, well-meaning women.

First, you take the Red Pill:

[My father] met my mother when she was just nineteen years old and he was considerably older.  He never told her about his family back in Germany, and they married and had four children by the time my mother was 25 years old. My three brothers, and me.

And they were fucking horrible parents.  There is no nice way to spin it.  They embraced a religion that encouraged extreme violence against children.  Their philosophy was that a child’s will must be completely broken so that the child will then accept the will of God.  My mother was ecstatically violent, and my father less so, but they were both culpable. Their particular brand of religious violence continues in America to this day.

[…]

And then….my mother discovered feminism. She exchanged one violent, irrational, dehumanizing ideology for another, and she soon decided that she needed a man like a fish needed a bicycle. After countless physically violent arguments with my father, including one episode where she hit him in the head with a cast iron frying pan and left him for dead on the front porch, he turned his back and walked away from us, just like his first family.

One day we woke up and he was gone. My mother was quick to inform us that he simply walked away, and left us to starve in the streets, and that she alone would be the sole reason we survived and prospered. She never missed an opportunity to curse him.  She told us about his first family, and how she did not need to divorce him, because they were never married in the first place.  She hated him and hated all men and our daily lives were filled with her anger and vitriol and violence.  She never gave a moment’s thought to what her hatred of men and our father was doing to her sons. She gave us daily rations of rage and blame and every bad thing that happened was always his fault.

Being a child, I believed it.  So did my brothers.

And we loathed him for it.  How could he leave us with such an evil woman? My mother once held a knife to my throat and made me beg for my life.  When I was eleven. And I remember going to bed, thinking not how much I hated her, but how much I hated HIM for leaving us to her devices.

Turning children against fathers has been a female specialty since forever, but only the post-industrial man-hating femcunt dystopia we know as the progressive West institutionalized and weaponized this malevolent female predilection, by removing moral culpability from women and adding a presumption of guilt to men.

The Red Pill payoff (you knew this was coming):

And then I received a phone call.  It was my father, calling to tell me that my mother’s mother had passed away, and that I should let her know.  So much of the pain had seeped away that I felt confident confronting my father, and I asked him why he had done it.

Why did you just turn your back and walk away?

And then the truth came to light.  He hadn’t walked away.  He certainly had not left us to starve.  My mother had filed for an annulment and requested a restraining order, which she was granted. When I finally saw my father again, he had two boxes with him.  One was filled with income tax returns showing that he had never missed a child support payment, and court orders preventing him from seeing us based on his violence towards my mother, along with supervised visitations that were all scheduled for when he was overseas, working to meet his child support payments.

The other box contained cards and letters.  Birthday cards and so many letters.  All returned.  By my mother.  He never stopped sending them, hoping one of us would one day get the key and fetch the mail, but my mother was always adamant that the mail was her business.

As an adult, it makes so much sense.  How did we continue to live in our house?  How was my mother able to afford food and clothing and YMCA memberships for four children without my father’s support? Of course she had his support.  But she hid it from us, and poisoned our minds against our father.  It’s called parental alienation, and she is not the first, nor the last woman to destroy her children in this way.

It’s a special kind of evil.

In the end, she meets her father, he asks her forgiveness for the way he raised her before her mother excised him from his kids’ lives, she forgives him and welcomes him into her family, he gratefully becomes a much better grandfather to her kids than he was a father to her. As for the awful mother, JudgyBitch did to her what mom did to her dad: removed her from her life.

Nestled in the middle of this story is a Crimson Pill so big it’s a choking hazard.

Interestingly enough, I was never attracted to men who behaved badly.  I never sought to enmesh myself in relationships that replicated the worst of my father.  Quite the opposite.  I didn’t seek out pain in an effort to work through what I had suffered.  I had a lovely boyfriend who was all kindness and sympathy.  He was the gentlest man I have ever known.  And I cannot adequately articulate how his gentleness and caring healed me.

He proposed marriage, but ultimately, he was far too compliant and mild, and I was disconcerted by his willingness to acquiesce to what I wanted, even though I never wanted anything bad.  I could trust him to treat me with the utmost kindness and care, but I could not lean on him.  That was impossible. I declined his proposal and moved on.

Appeasing, supplicating niceguys turn off women, because women perceive their niceness for weakness. And sometimes, the women are right. Very nice men who give women what they say they want, and who dutifully parrot feminist boilerplate and share the household chores under the false assumption that equality out of the bedroom is carnality in the bedroom, sow distrust in women.

Women trust the jerk because they know the jerk won’t tell them whatever he thinks will win their approval. And THAT’S how the jerk, ironically, wins their approval. By not trying for it.

A big reason women are attracted to jerkboys is the aversion jerkboys have for acquiescing to anyone’s demands, let alone women’s demands. That delightfully novel and romantically exhilarating jerkboy self-regard leaves a potent impression on women, who see refracted in the trait a forthrightness and strength of character and purpose that is lacking in niceguys.

Recall the CH Poon Commandments: You are the oak tree, immoveable and solid, under which she frolics and runs to when the rains come. She senses this strength in jerkboys because she can trust them not to bend to her whim, unlike niceguys who do nothing but bend and bend until they’re licking girls’ boots. And no tingle ever gushered for a polite lackey.

***

safespaceplaypen comments,

Thesis:

Interestingly enough, I was never attracted to men who behaved badly. I never sought to enmesh myself in relationships that replicated the worst of my father. Quite the opposite…

Antithesis:

I had a lovely boyfriend who was all kindness and sympathy. He was the gentlest man I have ever known. And I cannot adequately articulate how his gentleness and caring healed me.

Synthesis:

He proposed marriage, but ultimately, he was far too compliant and mild, and I was disconcerted by his willingness to bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit logic bullshit logic bullshit I declined his proposal and moved on.

Heh. The Tingle is Synthesis. And Syllojizzm.

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Fake Rape

41% of rape accusations are fake, according to a study that examined rape cases over a nine year period in a small metropolis.

With the cooperation of the police agency of a small metropolitan community, 45 consecutive, disposed, false rape allegations covering a 9 year period were studied. These false rape allegations constitute 41% the total forcible rape cases (n = 109) reported during this period. These false allegations appear to serve three major functions for the complainants: providing an alibi, seeking revenge, and obtaining sympathy and attention. False rape allegations are not the consequence of a gender-linked aberration, as frequently claimed, but reflect impulsive and desperate efforts to cope with personal and social stress situations.

So women lie about being raped for revenge against an insufficiently alpha man, to cover their asses when their boyfriend or husband catches them cheating, and to ATTENTION WHORE FOR THE FEELS.

It would be funny if it weren’t a malicious slander against men that can and often does cost them their livelihoods and freedom.

Solution: Twice the prison time for fake rape accusers what would be sentenced to actual rapists. That’ll nip it in the bud.

It’s comical that there are still watery-eyed platoons of internet white knights out there who don’t believe women lie, and routinely at that, about allegations as serious as rape. These Wank Crü WK buffoons are ostriches with their heads in the sand, stubborn polishers of the pussy pedestal, probably incapable of grappling with the reality of female sexual nature because they have one female relative who married a dick and that clouds their thinking on the matter.

WKs have always been enablers of the worst sort of man-hating, skank-glorifying feminism. I bet that most WKs have little experience with women beyond one or two lifetime girlfriends who bitched to them about past lovers, and they think their hard work locking down that HB6 in an LTR or marriage grants them deep insight to women.

***

meistergedanken comments,

Back in 2013 I did some digging on this. And I remember that study you cite: Eugene Kanin at Purdue conducted a study that showed, according to police reports from one city, that 41% of rape claims were untrue, and a full 50% of claims at two universities were untrue. Other researchers have come up with similar numbers for false rape accusations: Gregory and Lees, 1996: 45%. Jordan, 2004: 41%. Chambers and Millar, 1983: 22.4%, Grace et al., 1992: 24%. McDowell and Hibler, 1985: 27%. Buckley, 1992: 25%. Washington Post, Virginia and Maryland, 1991: 25%. Even the lowest number is TEN TIMES the number of false rape allegations that feminists will admit to.

This is a good time to remind the studio audience that the cuckoldry rate is 30 TIMES the actual rape rate. So women are 30 times more likely to deceive men of their paternity than men are to deprive women of their reproductive prerogative.

This is also a good time to remind everyone that in surveys of sexual behavior, women are more likely to lie than are men, AND when women lie they lie BIGGER. The ego boost that men get from padding their notch count is smaller than the ego boost that women get deducting from their cock count. Or, men are less ashamed of their sexual inexperience than women are of their sexual experience. The sexual market is illuminated by the pretty lies the sexes tell about themselves, and women fear the slut label (for good reason) more than men fear the incel label.

Thought experiment: Try to imagine what the public and institutional reaction would be if 41% of criminal charges against blacks were based on false allegations, if 41% of police rationales for shooting perps were false, if 41% of terror attacks were falsely attributed to muslims…..

…it’d be a lot more vociferous and indignant than the non-reaction accompanying the hatefact that 41% of rape accusations by women against men are fake af.

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The relevancy of this post will probably be moot by the time it’s published, but I’ve made some points about our current climate of anti-sex prudishness that deserve consideration, so here ya go.

I’m glad Trump came out in support of Roy Moore. The man’s travails — stoked to an incomprehensibly vitriolic froth by Nasty Womanhood, Inc and the Jewish Interest Media — are emblematic of the man-hating culture that suffuses us. Do I think it’s a leetle weird for a 30 year old man to actively seek to date late teenage girls? Sure, but it’s not criminal (not as long as AOC varies state-to-state from age 14 to 17….I can’t take a statutory crime seriously if all it requires is a hop across the state border to decriminalize the charge), and certainly not worthy of national coverage knowing that it would hardly have made the local news in the 1970s (which really could have been a millennia ago given how much American culture has changed since then).

30-year-old Roy Moore’s preference for teenage love isn’t a radical aberration or departure from the spectrum of normal male sexuality. It’s out on the tails of normal male sexuality, but not off the curve into abnormality where actual paraphilias (e.g., pedophilia, necrophilia, bestiality) exist. NEWSFLASH: Men prefer young women, at minimum younger women than themselves, and men with power and social status that are naturally attractive to women will be better able and willing to fulfill their desire. At the margins, this means there will be HSMV older men who will date 17 year old Southern Roses, and some of those men will be actively pursuing a marriageable young woman with plenty of residual reproductive value to provide him with the large family he wants.

Roy Moore has four children with his wife of forty years. As far as we know, he has been faithful to her the whole time, and she adores him. His wife is fourteen years younger than him. This indicates that his youthful exuberance pursuing teen girls was part of a conscious desire he had at the time to find his One True Girl and marry her.

As long as there are teenage women with shapely figures telegraphing the opening of their prime fertility windows….

Kim Kardashian at 14 years old

…there will be men of all ages ogling them. Some of those men will have the mate value and the immunity to social expectation to win one over as his own. Roy Moore’s preferences were within the sphere of normal, naturally evolved male sexuality. To dumbly conflate his dating history with that of pedophiles and pervert potted plant masturbators cajoling actress whores with a bit of the ol’ quim pro quo, is a slanderous joke and reveals a deep-seated discomfort with and spite toward the Darwinian contours of male sexuality and male romantic longing.

FYI it’s not all that unusual or uncommon for an adult man to get tripped up by the apparent age of an especially voluptuous teen woman. Unless a man is in the habit of asking all 0.7 waist-hip ratio women for their IDs, there’s a chance one of them might conceal being a barely legal vixen.

Related, some men (maybe Moore) either physically age more slowly or retain a light-heartedness of spirit that belies their age, which both makes them more attractive to and more attracted to younger women. It’s not the rule, but it’s a fairly notable exception.

Say what you will about Roy Moore, at least his girls agreed to date him (even if they retconned a discomfort 40 years later). The Synagogue of Seediness doesn’t bother with the formality of mutual agreement, they just passive-aggressively jam tongues down throats “to rehearse our lines”.

In sum, if you believe every recollected detail of the ancient allegations, only one woman at the time was underage (barely) when Moore asked her out on a date, shared consensual 2nd base foreplay with her, and drove her home when she wanted to leave. The rest of his “accusers” — aka bitter aged cows who regret not being the woman Moore married, all of whom with shitty personal relationship histories and connections to thecunt’s #SheMenstruated cat lady symposium, retconning their bloom of youth trysts with Moore into criminal acts — were legal age at the time of the alleged May-December violation of the feminist code of acceptable intersexual conduct.

You may think it’s icky for a grown man to consensually date barely legal teen girls, but that doesn’t make it criminal. There was a time when, while not quite the social norm, such couples weren’t all that unusual and nobody much blinked an eye when they encountered one. We all know of our own or someone else’s great-grandparents with big age gaps who started popping out kids when great-grandmama was seventeen.

I doubt Moore’s janey-come-lately accusers really were all that scandalized by his come-ons in 1977. Here’s a rule of thumb I use to determine the validity of a woman’s sexual misconduct accusation: If she waits more than ten years to tell anyone about it, she wasn’t all that bothered by the infraction when it occurred. If she waits forty years, it’s a political hit job exploiting a radically changed anti-sex feminist cunt climate.

But it is fair to ask why Moore would, if reports based on memories of contemporaries from forty years ago are accurate to the tiniest detail (they’re not), pursue questionable if mutually consensual age-disparate relationships with teenagers to the exclusion of older women, and risk the specter of social ostracism. Some say it’s because Moore was emotionally stunted and socially awkward —  a 1970s proto-sperg — who wanted a deferential and awestruck teenage woman for company unlikely to challenge his self-conception or strain his capacity for mature adult banter.

Maybe, but probably not. I think he just liked ’em ripely hot, and didn’t much care about “relationship complementarity” as de-sexed ür-bugman Will Wilkinson might put it. This notion, held dear by both white knights and feminists, that men who date younger women are secretly intimidated by strong, independent, empowered older women is why I say betacels and bitterbitches have a lot more in common than they’d willingly admit.

Psychologically emasculated white knights who gripe about “power imbalances” in the workplace between male bosses and female subordinates, or in society between older high status men and younger inexperienced women, can’t seem to fathom or accept the reality that female sexual desire is different than male sexual desire, and women are typically attracted to powerful men. Two to tango, chumps. Men are aroused to provide for and protect vulnerable, deferential women, and women are aroused by strong men to whom they can safely and happily defer. Even to whom they can submit. Perfectly equal relationships are also perfectly passionless relationships. Sexual polarity is the lube of love. Male power and female admiration provide the sexual frisson that magnifies feelings of love and creates a solid foundation up;on which to build up a lifelong commitment.

Other theories for Moore’s focus on finding a teen fiancee that I’ve read hold more weight for me.

From RedPillofHergest,

Old Judge Roy Moore had an eye for beauty. Unlike the Epstein Weiner Weinstein pedo cabal, I think Roy’s forays with teens were an attempt to secure prime nubile fertility while it was still pure. He was wife shopping. It is as though he could see that the slide the country had taken would lead to Tindersloots, and he needed to get to a girl before Regressive Ideology did. A legacy American boy raised in the proud South in the 50’s, he’d served his country, got his degree, established himself in his career and when he was ready to settle down, young adult women– especially those who had gone to college– had been marinating in the vitriol and effluvium of feminism, race equalism, free love, and miscegeny. Roy chose girls at their peak beauty, less educated than he, who swooned at his status. He didn’t get all rapey. It appears he was wife shopping. Of the allegations, only 1 girl said he did more than kiss her, and that one claimed only what may be described as light petting. When she wanted to stop and go home, Roy stopped and took her home. Most of the women said he read them poetry and played guitar. He was courting these women. When he found the right one, she was 14 years younger and has stayed with him for over 35 years.

Moore’s treatment is a case study in how post-America is hell-bent on pathologizing male sexuality (while simultaneously infantilizing female sexuality).

Character matters, and it looks to me that Moore’s accusers have the lowest of character, which rightly calls into question their veracity. Their low character doesn’t disprove their allegations, but it certainly is a leading indicator that they’re telling lies, or at best telling politically embroidered quasi-truths.

The best evidence we have that Moore’s accusers are at least partially lying to relive their golden youth and stick it to the Patriarchal White Man is that Moore has no history of chasing barely legal skirt in the years since SouthernRosegate. True pervs don’t instantly drop their habits like that.

Jerry Seinfeld openly dating a 17 year old when he was 39. Don’t you remember the condemnations from the Left? Neither do I. He was 7 years older than Moore who is being called a “predator” for the same thing.

-Bill Mitchell‏

Well, you know, (((comedians))) get a special dispensation. (For the record, I have no problem with Jerry Seinfeld dating a legal 17 year old hottie. Men work hard to acquire status, fame and power FOR JUST THIS SORT OF OPPORTUNITY.)

An insightful theory for Moore’s peculiar premarital tastes come from therebbeblog, who comments,

The Truth About Roy Moore

When I saw his bio this jumped out at me. He went to West Point. If you know West Point men, they are often the most frustrated SOB’s on Earth. They sometimes head down to NYC to meet women, but the school is physically isolated. They have no sex life. Moore went from there to ‘Nam (again, no sex life), then Law School (no women there in the 70s). Essentially, he was isolated from women for his entire adulthood. Clearly he spent years dreaming of nubile women and flew off the handle like someone just released from prison. Not discussed often, but veterans often get sexually dysfunctional like that.

Clearly this was just a phase caused by extenuating circumstances. He’s passed it. Are we going to punish military men who get pervy when out of service? Think sailors on leave. Ask them about Bankok. This is unserious.

He clearly turned his life around. There is one instance of him pinching a girl in the butt after marriage? But he seems to have gotten married and cleaned up his act. Christians in Alabama understand this. Character turnarounds like this are the basis of redemption in their faith. Hope he wins.

That’s one of the better analyses of Moore I’ve read. He had an epic case of blue balls, and he wanted that feeling of young love that was denied him for so long. Are we going to lynch the man for that? If so, then you may as well criminalize men and castrate us all, because our dicks and our hearts aren’t going to cooperate with the anhedonic low T androgynarchic shrewtopia the hag collective wants to impose on society.

The next #resistance narrative is taking shape. Already I have shitlib acquaintances telling me, “How is it Ok that Trump can get away with groping women but no one else can?” You knew this was coming. Frankenwinestein was the sacrificial lamb to the gods of NeverTrump.

I’m near certain that Dem leaders and Cuckryans sat down with Frankenstien and said “Look Al, the photo is bad, you’re gonna have to resign, but look at it this way, you’ll go down a martyr, we’ll use your sacrifice to take down Moore and Trump. This is how you can do the most good.”

It’s pretty clear to me that the leftoid fuggernaut, caught off-guard by Pedowood, scrambled to segue from Chosen perversion to smearing the good names of Gentile anti-establishmentarians. Jizz up the waters enough and people forget who the worst perps are.

That’s why I have been consistent in my assessment of these decades-old sexual harassment allegations: mostly a bunch of Regret Fling griping from post-Wall women with a few genuine victims sprinkled in to give the moral panic a veneer of legitimacy. NeverForget that the overwhelming majority of these sex abuse accusations have been leveled against male feminist shitlibs, so what we are seeing is a moral panic started by shitlibs and feminists that they are DESPERATE to enlarge beyond the scope of the ghetto of male shitlib perverts.

Libs trying to tie Trump to #MeToo should be made aware of their telling silence and support when Hillary was running smear campaigns against Bill Clinton’s accusers. And in Bill’s case, one of the women, Juanita Broadderick, has been saying since day one he raped her.

It would be funny if, after every GOP establishment eel turned on Moore and the combined force of the jewish interest media lobbed their artillery at him, he still won. Biggest middle finger to the Globohomo Uniparty and to Schoolmarm Feminism this side of Trump’s election.

***

The most revealing quote from the Bezos Post exposé on Moore was this,

…episodes [the women] say they found flattering at the time, but troubling as they got older…

Sez it all. WE’RE AT RETCON FIVE.

When you accept that the GOPe cuck elite really truly hate the heartland Americans they pretend to represent, you’ll understand their behavior and be able to predict their future actions. The Uniparty is real, and they are feeling the heat. Moore, please.

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