Archive for the ‘Funny/Lolblogs’ Category

You ever get stuck on a really awful date and wondered what to do about it? This jerklord decided the best defense is to be really offensive. With a little encouragement from his mates, he pulled out all the tricks in the Asshole’s Guide to Making Women Horny (Or Sorry They Ever Took You for a Beta Pushover). Follow the story from top to bottom, and keep an eye out in one of the videos for the exact second our ho-tagonist experiences a pleasant zap in her taco trap.














Were you paying attention? Right after the hair tussle, she smiled a bit and a momentary look of…intrigue… swept across her face. THAT was the turning point, when she changed from uninterested rude bitch with her face in her phone to curious rude bitch with her face out of her phone and looking at this man with the minerals to do what he just did.

When a girl is this cunty on a date — literally more interested in her 6 inch phone screen than in you — there are three options available to you that at least salvage your dignity if not help you savage her vagina.

  1. Call her out. This isn’t the most charming or ZFG option, but it is better than sitting there and suffering her rudeness like a chump. “Are you gonna be a rude bitch all night, or just during appetizers?” The meet-to-lay ratio on this tactic won’t be great, but the meet-to-self-respect ratio is through the roof. And some girls WILL react positively to being called the fuck out for extreme bitchitude.
  2. Leave. Similar to #1, but without the risk of sounding butthurt. You just get up and go, no words exchanged, no excuses offered. Little chance of a lay with this move, but you’ll have tremendous satisfaction as you walk out knowing you left her in a state of confusion and Hillary-voting bitterness.
  3. Amp the Asshole. What this guy did here. This is my preferred method, but be careful not to overdo it. Once you unleash your Inner Jerkboy, it’s hard to keep him from having the run of the place. This is because you’ll immediately notice the powerful effect it has on girls, and you’ll also notice how good it feels to let your Jerk Flag fly. It will raise your T levels and that’s a drug no man can resist mainlining.

The Beta Male option — the one 99% of men would choose in similar circumstances — is to sit there and force weak-ass supplicating banter hoping she’ll suddenly find you more interesting than her phone. Never happens, and her opinion of you (already in the basement) will dive even lower. Worse, some men will buy such a girl more drinks, figuring (wrongly) that if Resource Provider Toolbag Game isn’t working, that means she just needs more of it.

“But, CH…”, some readers will rebut, “…she left! His jerkboy game didn’t work!”

Ah, young pantywad, much to learn you have. After the fourth jerkboy prank (the feet on the table) it became clear to her that he was fucking around and not in the least considering her anymore as a romantic prospect. The key with Jerkboy Game is that a little goes a long way. The hair tussle and the fork grab were sufficient assholery to spark a nascent arousal in her. Had he then settled into a commanding frame, (instead of continuing with his asshole clown frame), and segued into a better rapport by saying something like, “now that I have your attention, we can get down to the serious business of making fun of you”, he stood a chance at making something of this date.

Not a big chance, but a better chance than what he had going in, which was nothing. A girl engrossed with her phone while on a date with you is already lost. May as well throw beta politesse to the wind and summon the Titans of Testicles to grant you the power of a thousand DGAF jerkboy warrior-poets.

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“I told him ‘jump on the grenade’, not ‘strap yourself to the ICBM and ride it to hell’.”

Is this a case of a rare, genuine fatty fucker feeding the belly and the ego of a blustering megabeast?

I considered this photo and the man who is part of it for submission to the next Beta of the Month contest, but three red flags have me convinced this is staged (and thus not up to the Chateau’s impeccable BOTM contest entry standards).

Before I give those clues away, try to find them yourselves.





Ok, here’s where the porkster failed in her mission to further a credible fat acceptance agit-prop.

  1. The feminist fatty hashtags are too “on the snout”. No woman, not even a bitter disguntled obesity, will oink repeatedly on Instagram about “beauty standards” and “body love” when she’s just received an engagement ring, fulfilling a fantasy that most women hold dear since girlhood. Powerful feelings of love, yes real love not “body love”, will supersede a normal fatty’s political agitation programming, and the hashtags will say instead #justengaged #lovehim #imgettingmarried etc.
  2. Whenever a woman starts a thought with “So”, particularly a “so” with three “o”s, it’s a good bet whatever follows is complete bullshit. “Sooo” is the shorter version of “No, but honest-to-God…”. Liars say this a lot.
  3. Finally, the dead giveaway… any fatty fucker worth his blubber-induced boner will know that his porky princess’s sausage links require the dashingly-dilated, goatse’d ring to make it past the second pig knuckle, where the fat really starts to accumulate. Look closely and you’ll see her ring propped indolently above her second finger goiter.

Conclusion: This is a gay BFF, or a brother, or a deeply respectful low-T male feminist friend, conspiring with a fatty fat to help her collect lard-warming feelz in the fake social media universe. Is it still beta? Yes. But it’s not the kind of guileless, inept betatude that normally qualifies a man for BOTM candidacy.

If I’m proven wrong, that won’t change much. A fatty who believes her stroke of luck wresting a marital promise from the equivalent of a human unicorn — the fatty fucker who isn’t also a rotund beast with no better options — means that the world is filled with men who would shower love on her if only “thin privilege” or the pastryarchy would stop “telling them” not to, is still a fatty laboring under delusions of glandular.

Every fatty — and I mean every one of them — would experience improved romantic prospects if they pushed away from the trough.

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A reader forwarded this photo, and I’m still laughing.


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Yesterday I saw an It
that cursed my sight and gave me fits
this It I could not tie in with
anything come before It
I may even admit that this It
was too illegit to quit
a man’s face It had
(formless chin to brow)
a man’s shoulders It had
(sloping to a bow)
even a man’s hands It had
(hard work they disavowed)
but the strangeness that would occupy
my thoughts till morning cleared my mind
was the shorts It wore
mid-thigh, no more
but tight around
the middle mound
except there weren’t
no middle mound
where legs did fork
you’d expect to note
a roll of pork
not an empty boat
the material gathered
into telltale bunches
of wrinkles and creases
that supported hunches
Its member was tucked
deep in asscrack behind
or queasier still
had untethered the pine
and showcased so proud
to an audience, astound
a missing link
a disorienting cline
where once was a peen
there now was a gine

(poem inspired by real life spectacle)

(ps fuck this gay america)

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What happens when a low E manjawed bitch teams up with a slimy beta male? This:

Painfully awkward. It’s clear Fiorina is trying to one-up Scruz with the classic hand-over-hand domination play. (This aggrocunt even looks like a M2F post-op.) Cruz, sensing the submissive under-handshake Fiorina is forcing him to betray, attempts a counter-maneuver to save face (save hand?). It fails badly, as horse-faced Fiorina is not a woman to go down without a fight…. especially when her opponent is a beta male.

For the record, if you ever find yourself in the mysterious position of publicly declaring solidarity with your token vagina VP choice Fiorina days before you have to drop out of the nomination race and a week after you were mathematically eliminated, the alpha male strategy is to grab her hand quickly to complete the victory gesture, denying her the window of opportunity to do likewise to you.

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Same video, different angle, full conversation.

Best laugh I’ve had all week.

“You are the problem, politician.”

“Where’s your Goldman Sachs jacket at? We know your wife works there.”

“The question we should be asking is….”

“Are you Canadian?”

By the way, Scruz really is a chronic liar. He claims Trump was telling his rally-goers to punch people in the face, referencing that one time Trump offered to pay the legal fees of a man in the audience who punched a grabby shitlib protestor. Which is not even close to the same as instructing his followers to punch people’s faces.

Ted is so easily triggered. TriggeredTed!


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The Trumpening earns Shiv of the Week for this soul shot:

I’m sure that Trump will accumulate plenty of SOTWs between now and his inauguration as Leader of the Fashy World.

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