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Archive for the ‘Funny/Lolblogs’ Category

We here at Chateau Heartiste have been pretty uniform in our assertion that relationships and marriages are more loving, and more sexually fulfilling, when men and women abide their ancient biological roles. Happiness comes from respecting the god of biomechanics. Unhappiness from denying him.

In a study sure to make feminists apoplectic, it was discovered that couples who share household chores are more likely to divorce.

Divorce rates are far higher among “modern” couples who share the housework than in those where the woman does the lion’s share of the chores, a Norwegian study has found.

In what appears to be a slap in the face for gender equality, the report found the divorce rate among couples who shared housework equally was around 50 per cent higher than among those where the woman did most of the work.

“What we’ve seen is that sharing equal responsibility for work in the home doesn’t necessarily contribute to contentment,” said Thomas Hansen, co-author of the study entitled “Equality in the Home”. [ed: readers of this blog will not be surprised by these results.]

The lack of correlation between equality at home and quality of life was surprising, the researcher said.

“One would think that break-ups would occur more often in families with less equality at home, but our statistics show the opposite,” he said.

The figures clearly show that “the more a man does in the home, the higher the divorce rate,” he went on.

File under: Don’t listen to what women say, watch what they do.

Women have been claiming for God knows how long that they want a man who will do his share of the housework, but when he does, their vaginas dry up like the Sahara. You see, equality of the sexes is a myth. Women don’t *really* want equal husbands. What women want are strong husbands who don’t act like women, which means, in practice, not puttering around the house dusting, mopping, vacuuming, cooking, or doing the laundry. A strong, masculine man is too busy — and too proud — to do shit like that. He has a mission in life outside the home, and women love that about him, even when they claim otherwise.

The reasons, Mr Hansen said, lay only partially with the chores themselves.

“Maybe it’s sometimes seen as a good thing to have very clear roles with lots of clarity … where one person is not stepping on the other’s toes,” he suggested.

“There could be less quarrels, since you can easily get into squabbles if both have the same roles and one has the feeling that the other is not pulling his or her own weight.”

The sex’s division of labor evolved for a reason: it’s most compatible with the feminine and masculine sexual polarity. There are some pursuits and some kinds of work that are simply feminine in nature, and woe be the man who willingly takes up the woman’s work in an effort to appease her; he may as well grow a vagina, for that is how she will perceive his sexual attractiveness.

But when it comes to housework, women in Norway still account for most of it in seven out of 10 couples. The study emphasised women who did most of the chores did so of their own volition and were found to be as “happy” those in “modern” couples.

So much for the patriarchal power structure.

Dr Frank Furedi, Sociology professor at the University of Canterbury, said the study made sense as chore sharing took place more among couples from middle class professional backgrounds, where divorce rates are known to be high.

“These people are extremely sensitive to making sure everything is formal, laid out and contractual. That does make for a fairly fraught relationship,” he told the Daily Telegraph.

Middle class status striving: does a marriage bad!

“The more you organise your relationship, the more you work out diaries and schedules, the more it becomes a business relationship than an intimate, loving spontaneous one.”

Ain’t that the truth. Like CH has been trumpeting for years, spontaneity, unpredictability and a little bit of aloof frisson make Joe and Jane a happy couple. Pro-tip: Steer clear of ballcutting battle axes with honey-do lists.

“In a good relationship people simply don’t know who does what and don’t particularly care.”

America, fuck yeah! Just keep seducing your lover, and who does the “chores” becomes a non-issue.

The researchers expected to find that where men shouldered more of the burden, women’s happiness levels were higher. In fact they found that it was the men who were happier while their wives and girlfriends appeared to be largely unmoved.

Call this the Manboob-Schwyzer Syndrome. Guys do housework because they think it is the way to appease feminist shrikes, and then feel happy about contributing, while women get more depressed as their attraction for an apron-wearing kitchen bitch plummets.

Since women’s happiness largely dictates whether a marriage will last or dissolve, equality-minded husbands ought to be aware that their good deeds are going punished in the souls of their wives. You want to kill the sexual vibe in your wife? Start splitting the housework. She’ll never look at you as a sexy stud again. You want to keep the love strong? Let her clean the house. You’ll be in the garage tinkering on your motorcycle.

I really hope the harpies at Jizzebel read this and shake violently from surprise orgasm.

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White Woman

I think white nationalists, though I sympathize with the lie-smashing spirit enlivening their mission, will have to come to terms with something unsavory: their “natural allies” answer to no master save one.

Eh, this pic is too good to not meme-ify.

Scoot over to quickmeme and the “Perverted White Woman” theme. Add your own caption and amaze your friends and secretly dirty little girlfriends!

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V. writes:

Yesterday it was my 7th month anniversary with my girl. She has been nagging about never celebrating it, so I wrote her name on the street with piss right in front of her and took a picture for the memory.

Anniversaries. The word conjures images of beta males frantically buying gifts at the last second for wives or girlfriends to honor nearly forgotten calendar dates the poor saps believe will earn them major romance cred. But anniversaries are not inherently beta.

If your girl imparts great significance to off-year anniversaries, or to any anniversary having to do with dating milestones rather than the much more onerous (and drably expected) marriage milestones, you are likely an alpha male. A girlfriend who wants to celebrate a seven month anniversary with you is thankful for each and every second of your company. To her, the months are as magical as decades would be to the woman married to a dutiful beta provider.

The weirder the reason for, and the timing of, the anniversary, the more alpha you are. So if she wants to celebrate the one month anniversary of the time you took her out on a real date, you are probably an alpha male. If she starts saying stuff like, “It’s 8:35, Wednesday evening. Remember this time? It was the first time you kissed me. And it was raining outside, just like tonight…,” you are probably an alpha male.

If you are a man who surprises your girlfriend with trivial anniversaries she had no idea existed nor even the remotest interest in celebrating, please lop off your balls. They are obviously doing you no good.

PS You don’t have to spend a lot of money on anniversary gifts. You don’t have to spend any money, for that matter. A woman will, over the years, recall more fondly her name pissed on the street or in the snow than she will the tennis bracelet wrapped by department store staffers.

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It’s funny when sex differences in perception are graphically illustrated by esteemed government agencies.

Via CDC. Girls think the guys they fuck are steady boyfriends. Some of those “steady boyfriends” think the girls they fuck are casual hook-ups. Many of these misty-eyed girls are in for a rude surprise.

Also, lol at the last category. Granted, it’s a small number, but how do 1% of cohabiting, engaged, or married men not know they’re cohabiting, engaged, or married? Or maybe the girls are anticipating rings on their fingers, and just calling it a win for themselves before the polls are closed.

Do the pinheads at the CDC realize how their colorful graphs give gender neutral feminists heart attacks? Their tears of anguish salt my feasts of cruelty.

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Via S. Sailer:

Is Obama sticking out his pinky? Forget the first half-black prez, what we have here is the first SWPL prez. No wonder SWPLs jizz their pants for this guy.

Even better, you gotta love the field hockey player American girls chugging beer like dock workers. The one on the left looks like she’s storing a few kegs in her upper arms.

In a sane nation, Presidents who sip beer like it’s an apéritif and look like they’re pinching a loaf become punchlines.

In a sane nation, women who proudly and ostentatiously surrender their femininity to act like men get shunned.

I want to live in a sane nation. Sounds like paradise.

ps this is a political post lacking gravitas. for gravitas, redirect to: hillary’s rump and alex pareene’s bitch tits.

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Petition to make this the official logo of the modern, Western, feminist, entitled careerist woman.

“I watch you die.”

Ugly, bloated Western woman dressed in the latest fashion sits idly with look of perplexity as a man in distress collapses before her leaden gaze. She even leans away from him, offended at this breach of protocol. Another woman seated nearby joins her in the sitting. The men around them rise to help the stricken man.

It’s a peculiar time when men rush to help another man out while women dawdle uselessly, their nurturing instincts vacuumed out of them by decades of feminist indoctrination and consumerist rat-racing. Another bell tolls for the West.

Could someone make a gif of the relevant portions of this video? And then plaster Jizzabel’s comment wall with it?

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Reader James has a game-related question:

Hey Heartiste I’ve got a question. What do you make of this:

On a couple of occasions I had college age girls strike up conversation with me by telling me I looked like someone they knew. In a third occasion I just recalled while writing this, another college girl struck up a conversation with me while waiting in line at the grocery store by claiming I looked like Kevin Smith of Silent Bob fame (in all three scenarios I was overweight and in all likelihood sporting a homeless person style beard since I was too lazy to shave. I’m also pretty tall, a bit over 6′, but physically that was likely my only positive trait.) whom she was a huge fan of. In one of the bus cases, the girl was telling her fat friend she needed a boyfriend because she was stressed and wanted to “blow off some steam”, and she must know I heard the conversation since they were only a meter or two away from me. Grocery store chick was standard issue swpl, 6-7 by most men’s standards I would estimate. Blow some steam girl was pretty hot, probably an 8. Second bus girl looked similar to grocery store girl, only she had short hair (huge turn-off) so I can’t give her more than a 5.

I figure they were all lame pick-up attempts, but who the fuck tries to pick up a guy who looks like a hobo? so I’m gonna ask some of the experts for a second opinion.

Fame is such a powerful aphrodisiac for women that even the flimsiest simulacrum of it can redound beneficially to a man. Yes, if you look like a famous dude, no matter how physically repulsive that famous dude is in real life, you can score pussy off of your gift. Sometimes this works despite the girl knowing you’re a lookalike.

Kevin Smith may look like a hobo, but he’s famous, and chicks will spread for all sorts of famous men, no matter how dirty, ugly or smelly they are. (The same is not true for men, as demonstrated by the professed romantic travails of ugly Hollywood actresses who don’t get anywhere near the lustful attentions that ugly Hollywood actors get.)

You’ve never seen a woman’s rationalization hamster spin its wheel so fast than when the roided-up rodent is giving a presentation to the Figurehead Ego in the corner cortex trying to convince him that the vehicular meat unit ensconcing both of them needs this ugly, unhygienic, drug-addicted famous guy’s seed pronto.

Figurehead Ego: He’s only interested in a one night stand.

Hamster: We can win him over. And it’ll feel better than that five year grind we had with Bob from accounting.

Figurehead Ego: We’re just a groupie to him, like all the others.

Hamster: We’re not like all the others. Look at how he smiles at us.

Figurehead Ego: He’s going to forget us before the morning is over.

Hamster: We can beat the morning odds with a well-timed home-cooked breakfast. We’ll be unforgettable.

Figurehead Ego: Did you read in the tabloids how he had a different girl on his arm last week?

Hamster: You can’t believe everything the tabloids say.

Figurehead: And how he was in a group orgy with Victoria’s Secret supermodels on his birthday?

Hamster: Mere rumors. Anyhow, those girls are sluts.

Figurehead: And how he got married in a private ceremony last month?

Hamster: He doesn’t love her.

Figurehead Ego: And how he cheated on his wife?

Hamster: Open relationship. Don’t you just love honest men?

Figurehead Ego: And he punched a homeless guy in the nose?

Hamster: He was probably asking for it. Those bums can get pushy.

Figurehead: Ok, but what about his drug addictions?

Hamster: He’s a tortured soul.

Figurehead Ego: His run-ins with the law?

Hamster: His passion sometimes gets the better of him.

Figurehead Ego: The facial contusions he gave to his ex-girlfriend?

Hamster: Oh god.

Figurehead Ego: What?

Hamster: I just tingled.

Figurehead Ego: Yeah, I could feel that seismic shift all the way up here. What about the shit smell emanating from the seat of his pants?

Hamster: I don’t smell anything. But if I do smell something wafting delightfully under my nose, it must be his musky cologne. More men should be so confident to wear such unapologetically masculine scents.

Figurehead Ego: And the flies buzzing around his head? It looks like he hasn’t bathed in a month.

Hamster: He’s in touch with nature.

Figurehead Ego: And the yellow stains in the pits of his t-shirt?

Hamster: He doesn’t care what people think of him. So sexy!

Figurehead Ego: He just farted in front of you.

Hamster: Authenticity.

Figurehead Ego: And I suppose you’re Ok with the log he left in the toilet.

Hamster: It looks like Jesus.

Figurehead Ego: Or that he’s a D-lister who hasn’t had a profitable hit in ten years.

Hamster: He’s FAMOUS. Didn’t you see the TMZ photo of him pissing on the front steps of that rape crisis center?

Figurehead Ego: Or that he’s going absolutely nowhere in life.

Hamster: But I love him.

Figurehead Ego: And his dick is rumored to be small…

Hamster: It’s all I need.

Figurehead Ego: …and he’ll come in two seconds.

Hamster: I’ll come in one second.

Figurehead: And you can forget about post-coital cuddling.

Hamster: Not when he sees what a catch I am. He’ll hold me forever and ever and never let go.

Figurehead Ego: You tired yet?

Hamster: NOPE.

Figurehead Ego: Look, let me put this to you straight. He’s going to use you as a convenient hole to get his rocks off. He will demand ass privileges (something, need I remind you, you haven’t given to any man before, even your ex-husband) and you will get nothing you want in return. He will, if the drugs don’t first kill his erection, face fuck you until you’re gagging and tasting hot tears. He will then kick you out of his hotel room, with perhaps an autographed pillow mint as a consolation prize. He’s not going to call you back. He’s not going to take your calls. He will pretend he never knew you when people ask. He doesn’t love you, he never will love you, and he will never marry you, buy you a house, or (knowingly) have children with you. In fact, it’s very likely he will despise you approximately fifteen seconds after he has unceremoniously deposited his demon seed in your ululating vagina. Afterwards, men you actually have a decent shot at winning commitment from will hear of your slutty reputation and avoid you like the plague. There is nothing in the world you can do to alter this guaranteed outcome. Second thoughts?

Hamster: Aren’t these garden flowers pretty?

Figurehead Ego: I give up.

Hamster: OMG, he’s pointing at me. And now he’s pointing at his crotch. *SWOON*

***

So here’s my suggestion to you, reader, the next time a girl mistakes you for Kevin Smith. Run with it. What’s that, you say? You’re ethical? Tough shit. Go home and play with your Epictetus.

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