Bitter, Delusional Fattie Thinks Sluttiness Is An Accomplishment

A bitter, delusional fattie (BDF) with disfiguring tattoos plastered all over her porcine hide has a blue spruce up her pancake batter butt about the normal people who are claiming 26 year old Lena Dunham’s character Hannah on her show Girls (said show cribbing liberally from this blog, and the proprietors know it) is not hot enough nor skinny enough to entice the sexual attentions of a 42 year old handsome doctor. (Speaking of Hannah and BDFs: Why the hell is it always the grossest women who are the biggest exhibitionists? Wait, we all know why. Because you have to give it away for free when no one is interested in buying it. This explains the phenomenon of aging, Hollywood ex-starlets dropping their moral compunctions against nudity and eagerly stripping down for the cameras. Thanks, ladies, for the day-late, dollop-short consolation prize.)

The normal people are, as per usual, right as rain. In real life, no doctor who isn’t a total dweeb will bother with a frumpy, dumpy, plumpy formless flesh entity like Hannah, even if she’s fifteen years younger. Men with high status and thus plenty of options in the dating market will choose pretty women with discernible hourglass figures. They will choose younger pretty girls over older attractive women, but if the choice is between an older (pre-wall) attractive woman with a nice body and a younger, uglier woman with a bratwurst impersonating a body, the red-blooded man will opt for the former.

The BDF under the Chateau laserscope for this go-round is truly an exemplar of her foul genus. To wit, here is a quote from the gelatinous beast:

Aside from being sexist and sizeist and just plain fucking rude, this idea that you have to have a thin, perfect body and the face of a model in order to be sexually attractive is just patently untrue. Sexual attraction is oozing and amorphous and refuses to live in boxes. Regular women, women who look like Lena Dunham, or me, get laid easily and often. Some men who look like Patrick Wilson are attracted exclusively to women 3 times Dunham’s size. Men who look like Patrick Wilson get rejected by women who look like Lena Dunham.

Couples are “mismatched” because these boundaries, these “leagues” are made up by society and easily crossed. Anybody can have sex with anybody else!

Friends, that is a hamster triple bank shotting on roids, ECA stacks, and crack cocaine. CH is in a Christmas mood, so let’s unwrap this rationalization rodent offal.

Aside from being sexist and sizeist

If the -ist fits…

and just plain fucking rude

BDF complains about rudeness while squeezing the word fucking in every sentence.

this idea that you have to have a thin, perfect body and the face of a model in order to be sexually attractive is just patently untrue.

Forget the science, forget clear-eyed observation, forget the reality that swims all around us… she said it, so it must be true. Rejoice, repulsive fatties! BDF says that men actually want to have sex with you even though the millions of decisions that men make every hour of every day, the preference for sex and love with thin women they attempt to satisfy, and the cruel mockery of fatties they indulge, demonstrate the exact opposite.

Sexual attraction is oozing and amorphous and refuses to live in boxes.

Well, it’s definitely oozing on her.

Regular women, women who look like Lena Dunham, or me, get laid easily and often.

Proof by assertion. But for the sake of further evisceration, let’s assume she’s not telling a bald-faced lie, and that she does manage to get a fuck dumped in her when the planets align. For the typical BDF, getting unceremoniously and absent-mindedly banged out by a desperate omega loser whose closest companion is normally a couch crease is not a trophy to place on the mantel. There are enough degenerates who will spelunk a convenient flabby hole when no other more attractive alternative is available that it is possible for a fat chick to sustain a belief in her marginal desirability, however threadbare that belief. Men are, on the whole, less discriminating about whom they will penetrate than are women about whom they will allow to penetrate. This is because for each egg that a woman produces, a man produces billions of sperm. Each sexual congress is therefore of far lesser biological, and thus emotional, importance to a man than it is to a woman, even to a BDF simulacrum of a woman. A woman who makes herself readily available to every wanton horndog who can’t afford adherence to standards is a woman who essentially announces to the world that her eggs are worthless mass market crap. Emphasis on mass.

Some men who look like Patrick Wilson are attracted exclusively to women 3 times Dunham’s size.

But most men aren’t. And in the zero-sum arena known as the sexual market, it’s the mate preferences of the majority that will most impact how much happiness any individual will extract from it.

Men who look like Patrick Wilson get rejected by women who look like Lena Dunham.

But most men don’t. It’s more often the case that alpha males are doing the prompt rejecting of women who resemble Lena Dunham. Remember, BDFs, male rejection usually takes the form of emotional rejection, and that’s the rejection that hurts you most.

Couples are “mismatched” because these boundaries, these “leagues” are made up by society and easily crossed.

Hugo Schwyzer agrees! Losers of a feather…

Anybody can have sex with anybody else!

Only if you count forcible rape.

There are some egregious BDFs out there, but this one takes the cake and inhales it. You can distill her crass self-motivational to two points, and neither one casts her in a flattering light:

1. She says she has had sex with “movie-star hot men with chiseled Adonis bodies”*, some of whom were “wealthy and successful”.

Try-hard. If you have to say it, it’s less true than true. If you have to say it so hyperbolically, it’s likely not true. If you have to say it so hyperbolically while looking like a propellor-scarred manatee, it most definitely is not true. But you keep telling us pigs can fly, BDF, and we’ll keep pointing and laughing at your ego-pricked obtuseness.

Here’s the deal whenever one of these asinine BDFs or her close kin rumbles into view to claim they have wonderful sex with high value men: they are almost always lying.

Nearly every instance when a low value woman claims she dates high value men, it will invariably reveal itself upon closer examination that the men she dates are supplicating, socially awkward, dull beta males, unreliable drunkards, or fly-by-night players who couldn’t give a shit about her beyond a late night booty call and who are clearly embarrassed to be seen with her in public. This is Rationalization Hamster 101, wherein the compulsion to assuage one’s BDF-riddled ego by declaiming the handsomeness, charm, high status and virility of sex partners overrides all consideration of truth value.

2. She implies that amassing a notch count of sex partners is an achievement for women like it would be for men.

Self-deluded fattie gonna self-delude. Spreading as far as two hamhocks can spread for a loser to stick his dick in and jab a few tepid spurts into sea cucumber labia is not an accomplishment. There will always be a contingent of wretched, loveless omega males roaming the wilderness like zombies to occasionally service the land whale through three seconds of love, for no other woman remotely attractive will have them, and sheep aren’t always as receptive as fat chicks. Now multiply the relative ease of convincing a loser to participate in greasy pig rutting by ten million to get an approximation of how effortless it is for the typical good-looking girl to entice a whole battalion of higher value men to line up for a free blast inside her exquisite heart-shaped pussy, and you’ll have an idea of just how inconsequential is sex itself as a measure of a woman’s romantic worth.

The crux of the cunt is this: a woman’s sexual worth is measured by the ease with which she can convince a worthwhile man to commit to her and stick around for the long haul. It is not measured by the accessibility of her sperm receptacle. You’ll note that the BDF under discussion refers in the past tense to these “Adonises” whose intimate company she allegedly enjoyed over the years. Presumably, they all fled before the last jizz stream swirled down her belly button drain. Who could’ve guessed a noxious, fat, ugly, hallucinatory, tatted freak would have trouble getting any of them to fall in love with her? Rhetorical.

Some of you kinder, gentler, naive readers ask, “Why flay this poor fattie’s soul? What has she done that’s so bad? She’s just masticating on the internet, giving girls a self-esteem boost.”

If she were gloomily masticating in her bedroom, alone and out of earshot of impressionable darlings, she would escape the torture. But she shouts her rampant idiocy from the rooftops, sliming the minds of thousands (millions?) of young women who teeter at the precipice between unhappy fatness and happy slimness. Thankfully, most thin babes know in their lovely bones that getting fat will hurt their chances at finding love, so a whole goon platoon of bellowing fatties would do nothing to dissuade them from following the right and true path in life. But some girls are emotional basket cases, and in their weakened conditions are susceptible to infectious mind disease.

If this BDF propagandist can potentially convince even one slim girl that she would suffer no romantic consequences were she to bloat up and ruin her desirability, ruin the scenery, and ruin the attitudes of hotter girls who relax self-constraints on their bitchiness when their competition is reduced, then the BDF is a legitimate enemy of the natural state. She has earned her designation as a prime target. The incalculable cruelty of the breaking wheel wrenching screams of agony from her blubbery carcass will serve as an example for the others thinking that it’s a wise life decision to dedicate oneself to spreading lies and destroying the looks of pretty girls.

*PS: The cynics will interpret this BDF’s outrageous claim — “movie-star hot men with chiseled Adonis bodies” — as a fat white girl euphemism for black guys. They are onto something. You brothers won’t like to hear this, but too many of you are willing to drop your standards, however temporarily or conveniently, and plow white fatties with finger-wagging ‘tude to spare. While proof is lacking, it’s a strong possibility that this particular BDF is another data point in favor of the African Megafauna Size, Shape, Color and Texture Theory of Conditionally Flexible Black Male Mating Preference.

CH is on record stating that black men, when they are free to choose high value women, will, like men of other races, generally choose thin, pretty women, especially if the choice is for a woman who will be a long-term relationship lover. C.f., Will Smith. And yet, there is also plenty of evidence, observational and analytical, confirming the stereotype that black men, when they date or screw around interracially, slum it with the refuse of white womanhood.

Two things ought to be said about this: One, most white girls prefer sex and relationships with white guys, if online dating statistics are to be believed. So a fat white chick transcending earthly bonds on wings of passion with a vibrant black dude is likely feeling a powerful discomfort on a subconscious level that she is settling. Two, it’s a good bet none of these black lovers are staying around to cuddle and raise a nuclear family with their BDF gory holes.

It’s fair to surmise, then, that a fat white chick who brags about snagging indiscriminate black guys with chiseled abs is not feeling the winner vibe those abs are supposed to make her feel. In the morning, she is left confused about what the fuck is happening to her life. This is what is happening to the BDF: You are a loser, you will continue to be a loser, and you will die a loser. And no amount of pain-addled transparently ego-massaging insistence to the contrary on a feminist website will change that. Only pushing away from the table will help.

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Why America Sucks, A Series

PA, one of the dark right’s consistently quality commenters, writes at GLPiggy:

When working on obtaining permanent residency for the foreign spouse, you are both interviewed by an ICE agent whose job it is to decide if you’re a real couple or not. Applicants (US citizen sponsor and the foreign fiancee) are advised to bring photos of the two of you on dates and other evidence that you’re a bona fide couple. They ask you things like the color of each others toothbrush, and things like that.

The agent who interviewed us — I was in my early/mid 30s then and my fiancee in her early 20s — HATED HATED HATED me. She gave out an enormous Ivy League lesbian feminist vibe, and kept trying to trip me up on facts. My demeanor was one of amused mastery layered with crocodile-grin politeness, and I’d produce every kind of documentation she’d ask for. I was genuinely amused by the process. At one point she asked me with a note of exasperation “are you a lawyer?” She ended the interview by telling my fiancee “make sure you get an education and know your rights as a woman!” or something to that effect. Good times.

By the way, I believe we were the only white couple in the entire waiting room filled with hundreds of other applicants that day.

Having known a few European-background foreigners of exceptional mien who journeyed through the (legal) US citizenship gauntlet instead of just doing the easy thing and jumping the border, and having heard their stories of woe navigating layer upon layer of inexcusably combative cunts and sneering diversity hire ballast, I can attest to the authenticity of PA’s experience.

So this is what America is becoming: Land of the Ivy League dyke and home of the anti-white bigot. A degenerate army of feminist and racialist bureaucrat multicultists who not-so-secretly despise white men staffs our government agencies, top to bottom, front to back, floor to ceiling, cubicle to cubicle, shore to shore. The very immigrants we should be welcoming with open arms — smart, white Europeans — are the immigrants to which our (literal) gatekeepers are most hostile, preferring instead to smile broadly and swing the doors widely to indigent Somali tribesmen.

Way to put your best face forward, America!

No homo, but I would trade one million American lesbian feminists for one foreign-born PA. It wouldn’t increase my competition — that’s one million fewer man-hating beasts despoiling my environment and spreading the virus of slothful fatassery among the few remaining slender American women — and it would add one more ally in the war against the ideological perversion known here as equalism. And if you think America isn’t stacked and packed with one million quasi-dyke feminists, well, you haven’t been here long enough to appreciate the comprehensive cave the voices of reason made to the forces of treason.

America is no longer the country she once was. She’s now a fragile papier-maché prop containing nothing but wire hanger and air inside her. Won’t take much more than a match to burn her sad effigy to the ground.

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The Mind Of The Manboob: Hugo Schwyzer Redux

Hugs is back in the news, and I can’t resist his mewling charms. So sue me.

Two articles of note. First, a Jezebel twisted paean to May-December romances penned by The Matriarchy’s First Lapdog himself.

Age Is Never Just a Number: How Girls Got Older Men/Younger Women Right

Though “One Man’s Trash” has been the most-discussed installment of this season (and perhaps of the entire show), much of the commentary has focused on the mind-blowingly insipid suggestion that a woman who looks like Lena Dunham doesn’t “deserve” a man who looks like Patrick Wilson. The focus on the imagined attractiveness disparity between the two actors misses an equally meaningful plot line: the appeal and the challenge of age-disparate relationships. […]

Tellingly, Hannah asks Joshua how old he is before she even knows his name: that Joshua is so much older seems to be an inextricable part of his appeal. The doctor’s affluence and handsomeness and stability are obvious, but Hannah seems more drawn by the age gap than anything else. Joshua, meanwhile, is fascinated, if a little bewildered by her boldness. Though a few male writers found the hook-up totally implausible, the mutual attraction is both believable and instantly familiar.

So Hugs is saying here that it’s totally normal for Lena Dunham’s homely character to be attracted to a high status man 15 years her senior. Ok, for a Hugo Schwyzer mental burp, this shows a reasonable grasp of the reality of sex differences in mate preference. But….

The storyline works because we live in a world where 42 year-old men are taught to find 24 year-old women more appealing than their own female peers.

Ah, that’s the old feminist water carrier we’ve come to know and loathe. Hugs, you are such a darling rimjobber. Do you even believe the runny shit you expectorate, or is it all a dog and fatty show for the benefit of your paying feminist overcunts? To ask the question is to mock you.

Like feminists, Hugo shares a propensity for boldly contradicting himself within the span of two sentences. In the confines of Hug’s hugbox, it’s normal for women to be attracted to older men, but “””society””” has to teach older men to be attracted to younger women. Women’s desires = natural, normal. Men’s desires = unnatural, societally conditioned.

It could never be the case for a felching manboob like Hugs who has sold his soul to the succubus that older men’s attraction for younger women is natural. Or that maybe… just maybe… the innate desires of both men and women, however divergent, are natural and normal and biologically hard-wired.

Yes, hard-wired, Hugo. From birth. Issuing from the hindbrain. Immune to cultural reeducation programs. Cemented in primeval neurons shaped in the crucible of evolution by millions of years of natural and sexual selection.

If it’s mentally taxing for you to grapple with the idea of innate, immutable sexual desire, think back, Hugo, to the time of your blossoming youth, when you first laid eyes on that young man with the broad shoulders, glistening chest, and conspicuous bulge in his Ocean Pacific shorts. Much to your surprise, embarrassment and volcanic shame which would sculpt the trajectory of your life, a boy boner sprouted from the downy thicket of your pubescent pride. You wept, beautifully.

Do you remember that time, Hugs? Yes, yes, of course you do. And you remember, as well, that it was no social conditioning or nebulous cultural influence or amorphous patriarchy that provoked those wild and lustful urges in you. Those urges, you will recall, rose unbidden from the depths of your being, like a thermonuclear blast through your sinew, to explode into the world and forevermore make mockery of the drivel you spew to this day.

Commenter anonymous writes:

…is [Hugo] real or some kind of sockpuppet. Surely no actual man believes that men are merely “taught” or conditioned into being attracted to 20+ yr old women?

He is as real as the beneficiaries of his delusional ego-assuaging largesse want him to be. No, I don’t think Hugo actually believes that men are taught to desire younger women over older women. But I wouldn’t bet on it. The West is filling up with simulacra of actual men who have swallowed the rancid feminist jizzbombs by the bucketload, and are begging for more. A willing mouthpiece like Hugo finds purchase today amongst a cacophony of loudmouthed losers who would have stayed ensconced in their hermit holes fifty years ago, brooding it out to themselves instead of polluting the internet airwaves. The Rise of the Hugo is a story of the Fall of the West.

To demand logic, reason, good faith, common sense, or accountability from the Hugo Hordes is a fool’s errand. There is apparently no contradiction or inconsistency or hypocrisy or lie too craven for the house eunuch to call into service if it wins him a contemptuous pat on his gelatinous bottom from the circle of shrikes. Hugs, is the sacrifice of your dignity worth the accolades from a bunch of psychologically and physically defective losers? Please tell me you are at least tapping some of the better feminist ass your humiliating masochistic spectacle ought by rights to procure you.

***

Article of note #2 was not penned by Hugo, but it was about him. After a quick read, I’m not all that interested in commenting on the substance of the article (it’s stupid, as is the case of most Atlantic articles lately), but I am perplexed why the Atlantic writer — a Mrs. Raphael Magarik — would write a term paper on Hugo Schwyzer’s internet persona and his psychological motivations without consulting the authoritative reference guide on the matter.

Come on, Raph, how about throwing a link bone to your betters?

Never mind. I can see when I’m not wanted. *sniff*

PS Hey, Hugo! Are gay men taught by society to desire other men?

Gotcha!

PPS Even when Hugo stumbles on a truth, he wraps it in foul-smelling lies. Here are two quotes from that Jizzebel article which demonstrate Hugo’s inability to speak truthfully.

Ask 20-something women on OK Cupid or other dating sites how many they receive from men 15 and 20 years older; ask women in their 40s how many guys their own age seem primarily interested in pursuing much younger romantic partners. The “cougar discourse” doesn’t change the reality that most heterosexual relationships with a substantial age gap still feature an older man and younger woman pairing.

Check out this slippery eel known as the male feminist. “[T]he ‘cougar discourse’ doesn’t change the reality…” Well, no duh it doesn’t change the reality! The cougar discourse affirms the reality that men of all ages prefer younger women. Hugo, is the “cougar discourse” saying something to the opposite of that reality, or are you just an oily snake dissembling for the sake of your fat cunt readership?

As she so often does, Hannah reverses the stereotype by being the sexual aggressor —

What Hugo omits here is the more reasonable interpretation that Hannah’s (Lena Dunham’s character, a hard 4) sexual aggression is not a deliberate ploy to flip stereotypes on their heads, but the necessary forfeiture of a dumpy, unattractive woman required to capture the sexual attention of an alpha male who’d sooner pursue a much hotter woman were one conveniently available. Hannah has to literally throw herself at this dude to get him to dump a fuck in her. She has to make it EASY for him. Making it easy is the only way marginal women who aren’t warpigs manage to get laid with attractive men. And then not so much; the strategy fails as often as it works, because men exercise discrimination in choosing mates, although on average men are less discriminating than women when sex is the goal. (Men are more discriminating than women when relationship commitment is the goal, and that’s why frumps like Hannah rarely get high status men to commit to them, which is the true measure of a woman’s romantic worth.)

Even if Dunham didn’t intend this interpretation, this is what actually occurs in the real world. Hugo could note that; but that would mean he had a spine.

and Joshua’s intensely grateful reaction suggests not just surprise at her boldness but also, perhaps a kind of relief that a woman in her mid-20s finds him still desirable.

The relief is for the zero effort he knows he’ll have to put in.

Forget the dick-wringing from male writers

You rang, fucker?

about how a hottie like Wilson would never go for a young woman who looks like Dunham.

Define “go for”. In real life, handsome doctors do not go for tubalards like Hannah, no matter the age. They go for slender babes. The tubalard may occasionally get serviced by a very tired or depressed Joshua who just got off the bender of a bad divorce, but he won’t be dating her or sending her flowers, or even seeing her in public. And your strawman notwithstanding to the contrary, what Hannah does or doesn’t deserve has got nothing to do with it. It’s horny turtles all the way down.

Not only does that woefully underrate the sex appeal of the Girls‘ star,

You’ve gotta be kidding me. Oh man, you are such a lickspittle. Tell me, would you say your wife is more, or less, attractive than Lena Dunham? Try not to squirm answering this.

it also obscures the reality that having a younger woman walk into your house and make the first move is a classic middle-aged man’s fantasy.

Only if she looks like Megan Fox. Try to keep it real, for once in your life, Hugs.

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#TellAFeministThankYou

Originally started by dumb feminists as a sincere effort at self-congratulation for imaginary deeds of heroism, the #TellAFeministThankYou Twitter feed has morphed into a shooting gallery for the entertainment of trolls and assorted sadists, providing a laugh a second. Feminists on that feed have been reduced to impotently bleating “wait for them to get it out of their systems.”

Go for the fun, stay for the cruelty. And keep an eye out for malevolent forces committing drive-bys of spectacular carnage. The kind of carnage that can leave a feminist with barely enough strength to mewl for the sympathies and circle-wagoning of fellow travelers.

UPDATE

Feminists are deleting the sarcastic tweets as fast as they appear. No surprise. Wouldn’t want to risk a mass suicide.

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The Mind Of The Manboob: Hugo Schwyzer Case Study

What deranged psychology motivates the defecatory self-flagellating of masculinity-hating manboobs like Hugo Schwyzer? At first glance, they seem broken souls driven to assume guilt for imagined evils committed by the group to which they ostensibly belong. They side with freaks who hate their kind. They mouth empty-headed platitudes and brazen lies with such alacrity one wonders if they can any longer distinguish reality from fantasy. They relish the whip coming down on their backs and the backs of those remotely like them with sick masochistic zeal.

Hugo Schwyzer is a cartoonish copypaste of the manboob archetype. He’s such a vile and transparent emissary for the reject crowd, that you really have to wonder if it’s all an act. I imagine there are at least a few sufficiently brain damaged co-eds who lap up his runny shit to make it all worth it. I bet he’s still leveraging his prof power dynamic to score illicit tail on the down low. It would explain his behavioral similarity to closeted gays who rail against homosexuality.

Or maybe he’s a True Believer. If that’s so, he’s an even bigger pud than I peg him for. At least one can understand, if not condone, a fraudulent shucking and jiving act to off-pitch feminist tunes in order to dupe dumbo conformist leftoids still in the bloom of youth to give up the goods. But a guy who dances like this with his junk tucked between his legs because he actually enjoys two-stepping like a spaz eunuch? It beggars comprehension.

So we must delve deep into the neural swamp of the self-annihilator, on a journey of adventure to darkest manboobery, to examine up close the stunted, sniveling, fetal id crouched like Gollum at the center of their twisted psyches. For to understand one’s enemies is to hone the precision of one’s ridicule aimed at them. You can plunge the soulshiv into the outer folds of the prefrontal all day long, but the delusional crackpot will merely incorporate legions of á la main ego-assuaging dendrites to rapidly bridge the wound in response. The killing blow comes at last when you have located Smaug’s lone, unjeweled breastplate — revealing an open pathway to the core leprotic force animating the multitude of ego layers — and held the gom jabbar wickedly, tantalizingly, against the defenseless, quivering, pustular infant monster within. Only then, will you have hit the mother of all nerves.

Chuck, over at GLPiggy, offers a diagnosis of Schwyzer’s underlying manboob illness.

Hugo Schwyzer’s latest piece is typical.  What you first have to understand about anything that Schwyzer writes is that he’s attempting to alleviate his own guilt by painting every transgression of white men against others as a systemic issue in which we are all complicit.

Schwyzer has done a lot of screwy things in his life so he believes that it is now his job to throw all other white men under the bus.  He avoids trying to deal empathically with white men by harping on “white male privilege”.

Guilt alleviation. The one emotional compulsion, above all others, that appears to guide and channel the self-annihilator’s moral preening, if not his moral compass. Schwyzer has had, as he has himself admitted, a number of “improper” affairs with his female students — affairs of the sort that would send the typical self-identifying feminist into a tailspin of scattershot histrionics about the “white male power structure” if done by any man other than a mewling manboob who effusively apologizes for his pleasure as penitence to his femcunt overladies. But Schwyzer retains just enough charm and traitorous gusto to keep his erstwhile feminist foes safely within his orbit of self-congratulatory sympathy.

But does Schwyzer really feel guilt for his naughty sexcapades? I’ve known quite a few womanizers in my life, and one thing I can say about them is that none were genuinely guilt-ridden over their scores of intimacies. None felt any pressing need to convince the world that their peripatetic love, or the behavior of men who do the same, was exploitative badness. They are healthy men at peace with their natural, masculine desire. Sure, they may occasionally pretend to introspection when in the company of finger waggers or glaring wives, but one could tell that was all for show. There was enough wink wink, nudge nudge to remind of their sanity.

So, no, I don’t believe that Hugs Shyster feels guilt, real guilt, for his past (and probably present). Most self-annhilating whites (and it is mostly whites who suffer from the appalling condition) don’t act out of guilt; they act out of a crass, surging impulse to step on their closest co-ethnic competitors in order to lift themselves up. Narcissism of small differences, and all that. They are, before all else, status whores, even if they don’t realize it themselves. And the status points that count will change depending on the context one finds oneself, or the context in which one deliberately inserts oneself. In Schwyzer’s case, he has been, and is, surrounded on all sides by clucking man-haters, women who loathe male desire in all its permutations save the one which can be wholly choreographed by feminist puppeteering.

The irony of it all is that Schwyzer has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to apologize or repent for, whether to himself or to others. His leverage of his occupation’s high social status and situational dominance to seduce young women by giving them what they want is no less part and parcel of the natural evolved order of romantic interlude than the woman who keeps herself trim and dresses sexily to capture the appreciation of the high value men she desires. You can argue that Schwyzer imprudently crossed an ethical line peculiar to academia, but what you can’t argue is that he acted immorally, strangely, misogynistically, or with patriarchal hate in his heart toward those women who welcomed his wooing.

But if suppressed guilt is the real motivation (and I concede that the possibility exists in the most egregious cases of manboobery, such as that evidenced by Schwyzer), then Chuck is right to identify the mechanism as an ego-salving one which attempts to shirk the blame off to an entire group as indicative of a “systemic issue” instead of manfully accepting sole blame for one’s individual failings (as one sees them). But the full-blown narcissist will have nothing to do with taking responsiblity for his actions when a whole world of patriarchal privilege and cultural constructivism is out there which will take the blame for him.

A second theory of manboob mind is that the proselytizing self-annihilator (and by extension, group-annihilator) suffers from a case of pathological altruism. Pathological altruism is likely an acute manifestation of biologically inherited leftoidism. While there is no proof to date that political bias is genetic in origin, evidence is mounting in favor of the hypothesis. Pathological altruism is a mental illness that possesses psychological dimensions not unlike Stockholm Syndrome, which compels the afflicted to heal the world’s hurt, and to demand inclusion for the world’s monsters and failures, no matter what cost to oneself (or, more likely, to one’s taxpaying compatriots). It is liberal universalist perfectionism run amok, and it eventually devolves, as it must, to subverting normality and truth and beauty and to sanctifying deviancy and lies and ugliness. (And genocide, if you look at the historical record.)

The motivation of those who hold themselves Messiahs to the Monsters can often be murky to the untrained eye, but the motivation of those who are actual monsters is clearer. The designs of the latter to institute not just the social acceptance, but the social desirability, of degenerates and degeneracy stems from a survival instinct. To be cast to the metaphorical icy wastelands is metadeath, and in the ancestral state of nature the casting out would have meant real death. But what to make of monster apologists like Hugo Schwyzer who, superficially at least, don’t immediately provoke disgust in people? What motivates them? If the pathological altruist theory of manboobery is correct, then “normals” who suffer from it are motivated by the warm, dopaminergic good feelings they receive from “fighting oppressors” and “lifting the oppressed”. It’s a savior complex that earns brownie points the more self-indicting its message. This is similar in function to how the handicap principle operates.

Which leads to the third theory of manboobery: subversive status whoring.

Ultimately, if evolutionary biologists are correct, pathological altruism (PA) will subordinate to the genetic imperative for status accrual, for all human traits are merely more or less successful evolutionary experiments cobbled together under ecological pressures to maximize survival and reproduction. PA might have been socially adaptive in small hunter-gatherer tribes, but in the modern context of atomized city dwelling that pushes millions of humans shoulder to shoulder, PA becomes more individually adaptive while also becoming more societally maladaptive. Now we are right back to the original speculation that manboobs are, in their own bizarre fashion, raising their status within their postmodern milieu via the mechanisms of narcissistic martyrdom and shared blame redistribution to the entire group in which they putatively belong. PA is, in a sense, a sneaky fucker strategy, a cheater’s ploy, which relies for its success on the existence of a strong, commanding overculture to parasitize. Once that culture is gone and the gutter filth are in charge, there is no longer any gain from letting your freak flag, or your freak-enabler flag, fly.

The manboob with PA disorder may sincerely believe in his good intentions, but he is actually a servant carrying out ancient genetically-coded algorithms that will redound to the benefit of his personal social status and, hence, his reproductive fitness. You scoff at “reproductive fitness”, but in fact this tact appears to have worked for Schwyzer, who, if his claims are to be believed, has enjoyed an ample supply of nubile, young, gullible feminist libtard majors.

We come to the fourth theory of manboob mind, and perhaps the most cynical of the theories: That manboobs like Schwyzer don’t believe a word of the crap they brownly vomit; that their bleatings are a minstrel show for the tiny niche of ideological sympathizers who fortuitously happen to be decked in the plumage of alluring boob and ass that all men, even revolting manboobs, want to defile. (Almost) every male endeavor has its female groupies, and manboobery is no exception, (except when the manboob is so physically deformed or dispositionally neutered he cannot even hope for gnarled table scraps left behind by greater manboobs than he).

The feigned male feminist act doesn’t even have to find fruit among its intended audience for it to be a successful mating strategy. Schwyzer could get no play from the Jizzebel crowd, but it won’t matter as long as attractive women closer to his social circle observe the laurels he receives from thousands of anonymously obese feminist skanks thankful for his words which soothe their scorched feelings of self-worth. All he has to do is humblebrag a little, shit on the “right” sorts of men, and sit back as innate female desire for preselected men works its magic. For all we know, Schwyzer may be a stone cold dominating quasi-rapist in bed with women, once he is free to drop the “this is what a feminist looks like” charade. And how much you want to bet the women he fucks — or fucked, I hear he’s married — are slender, height-weight proportionate, facially attractive women on the fertile side of the wall? Lindy West wept.

A corollary to the fourth theory of manboob mind — the theory that manboobery is a cynical ploy to attract niche female attention — is the notion that manboobs deliberately scheme to rearrange the contours of the sexual market so that their types have more access to women. It’s a strategy to clear the field of competitor males. It’s obviously not possible to literally clear the field of other men (unless you imprison them or kill them), but it is possible, through silver-tongued verbal calisthenics, to build insular social contexts that delineate and ostracize outsiders from insiders, and attract women simpatico to one’s message, much like the growth of a religious cult. The key to this mate competition strategy is to execute it with sincere-sounding passion, creating emotional states that coax the girls to be more open to the manboob’s wiles. An actively promoted, pro-femcunt system allows manboobs like Schwyzer to successfully compete with other men, whereas in a sane, anti-feminist, anti-sophist culture he would be at a distinct disadvantage competing against manlier men who eschew the mincing dishonor of passive-aggressive subterfuge.

Finally, we come to the fifth theory of manboob mind, and one I include for purposes of thoroughness rather than insight, as it shares obvious common threads with the previous four theories: Manboobs are simply bigoted against those not like them, which amounts to being bigoted against their betters, and will tirelessly do or say whatever is necessary, no matter how inconsistent or hypocritical, to bring down those they irrationally hate. I leave it as an exercise for the reader why a guy like Hugo Schwyzer would reflexively perceive the majority white male contingent as the Other.

In summary, here are the five primary theories of manboob mind, in no particular order of probability or explanatory power:

1. Guilt complex
2. Pathological altruism
3. Status whoring
4. Mate competition strategy
5. Raw bigotry

These theories don’t have to be distinct entities; they can overlap, and they probably do. A status whoring manboob on the make for chubby feminist love might harbor guilt for some strange perversion he committed in his past. A bigoted hater might also be a pathological altruist who goes livid when the subject turns to inequality, and if you think those two emotional states are contradictory, well you just don’t know the leftoid mind very well. Let’s say internal consistency is not their strong suit.

It wouldn’t be CH if we didn’t punctuate a SERIOUS post with a goofy coda, so to head off those jesters salivating to bombard the comment section with theories they deem to be the most obvious explanations, yes, manboobs like Schwyzer may just be acting out revenge fantasies birthed in the crucible of some punch to the jaw they took by a frat bro when they were striplings making their way through a man’s world. You could call that theory of manboobery, “Punchuated Equilibrium”. Those slights of youth have amazing staying power to warp the adult mind. Hate for normal, healthy men can germinate in such seething soil. You’d not be far from the mark to guess that a lot of the more monstrous manboobs nurse grudges from some rejection they suffered by a girl who never reciprocated their LJBFery in the way the manboobs hoped. But instead of turn against normal women or themselves, they shifted their hate beams to those men the girls liked.

As a theory of manboob mind, I don’t buy this tact. For every skulking manboob with a distant humiliation fueling his misandry, there are a thousand men who suffered similar high school slights who never went the egregious manboob route. Something else, some other psychological misfire, has to gird the ancient grudge, to give the grudge its unusual outsized power. And that is where you have to dig deeper, to the transgendered id, where the murmuring heart of the manboob pumps sewage through his buttplug-shaped cerebellum.

PS Schwyzer and his ilk might just be garden-variety closeted gays, which I know will be the preferred theory of a lot of tradcon types who have a hard time fathoming the queer workings of the manboob mind. But that’s a dismissive assertion that’s hard to subscribe to when there are years of evidence, past and current, that the Hugo manboob under the microscope has enjoyed, and continues to enjoy, the sexual company of women. We don’t live in an age where gay men need a parade of beards to function in society.

PPS Feel free to include your theories for the existence of nauseating manboobs in the comments. If there’s a better theory out there than the five presented here, we’d all like to hear it.

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The Funniest Graph You’ll See Today

And a more truthful graph than the one you’ll find here.

A rascally reader adds: “They forgot to color a single arm for cute.”

ps Hi Jizzeblobs!

pps Attribution of this graph uncertain, but I think it comes from A Voice for Men.

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Troll Comment Of The Week

shiva1008 hams it up:

Approaching women is a Demonstration of Lower Value. It basically says, “I know you wouldn’t give a shit about me otherwise, so I’m going to have to force you to pay attention to me.” Keep at it chumps.

The man-hating troll will deny the laws of physics if it helps it concoct a fantasy universe where no action a man does redounds to his favor, save those actions that are done for the explicit advantage of feminist crones. This is how the man-hating troll is able to rationalize that approaching women — an act of resolve and daring that most men are incapable of mustering on their own — is a sign of self-doubt instead of the sign of confidence that is so obvious to anyone not clinically insane with impotent rage.

This is why there is no point logically reasoning with a man-hating troll. What purchase can be made in the warped mind of a void entity which announces, with or without conviction, that a man hitting on a woman qualifies as coercion and an admission of insecurity? It is as if the void entity has entered a parallel plane of existence where confident and assertive men sit on their thumbs patiently waiting for women to offer them sex, and enormous hamsters gobble galaxies whole. It’s best simply to viciously mock the man-haters, and showcase their everlasting torment as an example for the others.

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