Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Girls’ Category

Go to this link and watch the video (I can’t hotlink it here on WordPress as there is not yet an option to link up PewTube videos).

It recaps much of what I’ve previously written at this blog about the sexual nature of women, but otherwise does a good job tying those Crimson Pill truths to the currently operative hyper-virtue signaling political culture that exists among single White women and how White men have to figure out a way to stop their reckless, callow women from driving Western Civ over a cliff.

From the vid:

“The only way we are going to make White Nationalism appeal to women, is if… White Nationalism is identified with the type of masculinity that women are interested in.”

A reader says this deserves concise guidelines. That’s a tall order for what I intended to be a short blog post, but I’ll offer a few suggestions anyhow:

  • First, I wouldn’t announce yourself as a White Nationalist. It’s like calling yourself a womanizer when trying to pick up a girl. Emotional baggage, justified or not, is associated with the term. Some things are best left implied. (I’m saying this in the context of winning over single White women in the era of Jewish Interest Media…there is such a thing as too much try-hard self-seriousness in the realm of dissident revolution.)
  • Never grovel or apologize for your beliefs. A refusal to cuck gets you an audition with women. The second you backpedal on your bold statements when you catch flak for them, her vaj turtles.
  • Humor and mockery are a deadly combination on the female hindbrain. If violence is the physical manifestation of assertive masculinity, then ZFG mockery is its psychological equivalent. Mocking feeble shitlib manginas and bitterbitch shitlib cunts with flair and cavalier abandon — to the point that one may accuse you of skirting the line between the thrill of the hunt and sadism — is fertilizer for flowering furrows.
  • State control. Amused mastery. In practice, what this means is that no matter how much women object, you stay firm in mind, message, and member. And when attacking enemies of your race and nation, you don’t get flustered or dangerously unstable; you lob your rhetorical artillery mit precision.
  • Openly defy shitlibs in your midst. When a single White woman who may be on the fence between Woke and Turncoat bears witness to you saying “that’s so gay” while laughing in some punchable manlet’s face when he utters a vapid lib platitude, she won’t be able to contain the splooge cresting in her womb fjord.

There’s more, but for now this should get aspiring pro-White men in the right FRAME of mind to find, meet, attract, and close wayward single White women.

Read Full Post »

There’s this bar/nightclub that has two floors, the second floor extending about 2/3rds of the way out from the back of the venue, so that those on the first floor near the front of the club can look up and see people on the second floor. (it’s great for boning up (heh) on your upskirting skills.) An iron railing about waist high protects dancers and drunkards from falling over the edge into the crowd below, though I can’t fathom how there haven’t been topplings that I know of, given the nature of drunkards to fall over just about anything that isn’t a brick wall.

The club gradually morphed from a Chad-White bro-scene to a Dindu savannah, but it never completely de-gentrified (bixnoodified?). A given Saturday night could be 50/50 White/black. Many of the blacks were hardcore ghettolanders bused in from duskier parts of town, so the 50/50 ratio felt more like 10/90 if you were a wypipo. One street creature carries the menace of one thousand of Shaun King’s threatening tweets.

The night would quickly humidify with the influx of MUH DIKKING and jungle musk, and White Privilege at that time never felt more remote. But it was still fun to stay despite the risk of a massive house riot because of what would eventually and inevitably transpire on that exposed second floor. The nubian ladies would line up along the edge, two-handedly grab the railing, bend over and jut their steatopygian buttocks out as far as possible, rhythmically swaying and bouncing and jiggling their leopard skin tights-clad, dimpled posteriors with a ferocity that would evoke a post-monsoon reproductive dash for ass among Africa’s red-butted fauna.

Then the real show began. The brothers in their knee-high sweatpants would lope into the buoyant backsides of these Nail Rail sisters, making a big show of judging the asses for quality — some nodding their heads and licking their lips in vigorous approval, other stroking their chins in phony discernment — before channeling Al Frankenstien on Viagra and pressing their tighty-whitey-strained boners into the gluteal abyss of not one, but two, three, or ten event horizon booty cracks.

The Bump n Grind commenced, howls and hoots and screeches that startled birds and sent them flying out of the canopy would echo off the walls of the club. Spilled drinks, sweat, spit, and possibly semen would rain down on the first floor denizens who were staring upward mouths agape in unbelieving laughter. After a short while, the tribal “music” having sufficiently worked the participants into a copulatory frenzy, the fertility dance would move to stage three. Already ten to fifteen sassy girls were displaying along the Nailing Railing, and the woefully underprivileged and eternally victimized gentlemen of color would begin the musical chair part of the mating ritual, swapping girls between each other, slapping asses with an air of perfunctory ownership as they entered and exited ass cubbies.

Usually the buckiest of the daggering brothers would hog (heh) the preponderance of booty, overstaying his time with each ass, choosing the finest ass (as he saw it) from among a murderer’s row of gargantuan globularity, and grabbing two asses at once, one glued to his pelvic region, the other tickled into a spastic froth by his outstretched hand. It was at this time that the scent of sudden mayhem was strongest, and the possibility of a violent resolution bristled through capillaries and engulfed the room, electrifying the senses.

This is when the smarter Whites leave, (the smartest Whites never arrive), but for one time the crowd remained in full as a climactic scene unfolded that stunned the gallery before a great laughter ensued. At the mating dance’s peak excitation, a tall scrawny nerdy White man with “I’m a shitlib Virtue Signaler” practically tattooed on his fivehead stepped confidently into the tush pit, smiling goofily, full of wonder and joy at his chance to bond with the natives, and bounced heavily at the knee near an open black behind, waiting for a cue from one of his hued heroes to enter the Dark Incontinent without a safari guide. The Flummoxed Flava took one long incredulous look at this Supreme Dork, promptly cackled in unison, slapped his back, and pushed him into the booty dead center at the rail.

Below, the crowd erupted in cheers. Gangly and spindly, our brave sinfiltrator jerked his body like a broken marionette to the smooth gyrations of his amour, nearly disappearing into the sea of butt blubber. Slipping on the wet floor, he almost dove headfirst over her back and the railing, but steadied himself by planting his paw in the thiccness of her shoulder padding, and it was at this moment that his other hand swiped right….toward her giant tit mashed into the iron bar. He leered at the crowd as he gave it a lusty squeeze, at which the girl turned to look back at him, stood up, shook her head in that OH NO YOU DINT way, and slapped his face. He rocked backwards from the force of it, and the gathered brothers released gales of knee-slapping, tongue-wagging laughter as they resumed their spots in the tar pits.

There is no moral to this story except don’t go looking for love in the bush.

Read Full Post »

An aging, anti-Trump pussyhatter clashed with a manspreader on the NYC subway, and given the ancestry of the accused the result was predictably comic for those of us who enjoy seeing virtue sniveling White women at the moment their Anti-White Equalism religion is refuted by reality. Via reader M.L.,

Ha.

Feminist with chip on her shoulder finds out that gentlemen of color punch uppity bitches in the face if they show disrespect.

A white guy would have apologized profusely.

That feminist shit only works on men who are already neutered.

The Wonder Woman herself, Sam Sweeney Saia, from her Twatter account in August 2016:

Sam Saia, this week, after her encounter with a typical representative of the mandingospreader who haunts feminist nightmares:

I have no doubt this spreader of vibrancy was taking his feral frustrations out on an HB3 White goddess and pushing his leg into her till she was crushed against the bars, but naturally being the ditzy lib broad she is, she forgot for a hot second that her feminist indignation is no match for thejungle. As M.L. wrote, what works on already neutered White men won’t work on the orc horde. Feminist haranguing is impotent against MUH DIK; it can only find a swaddling home in the deflated bean bags of shitlib white males.

Dumb virtue sniveling cranky urban slutmouths like this sour hag who spend the bulk of their attention whoring time shitting on their own men can take a White man’s sympathy from White Knight to “lol suk a dik” in five seconds flat. It’s more proof for my contention that feminism is, among other deleterious qualities, a mass psychotic case of negative transference by hardened liberal city shrikes unable to cope with the reality of daily black and brown and (((tribe))) violations of feminist moral code, so they blame the cause of their bad feelings on White Gentile men, which allows them to preen as both a feminist and antiracist heroine.

The White woman civilizational shit test continues unparried….

***

In related negative transference news, the Broken Windows dindu-stopping strategy is giving way to Windows Asking For It, the dindu-enabling strategy. Subway fare evaders are almost entirely black, so the Globohomo Order wants to decriminalize fare evasion.

There are two ways to deal with the dreary reality of wildly disproportionate black dysfunction in Diversitopias like the US:

  1. a crackdown on black behavior that would warm a Grand Dragon’s heart
  2. sewer spiraling to the lowest common denominator of social responsibility that doesn’t disparately impact blacks

As long as White Men remain unrooted from their heritage and faithless in their purpose and cultural glory, we will pursue option #2 until the wilting, deflorating end. Ironically, White Supremacy was never the problem; White Supination is the problem. And this is why MAGA has resonated so deeply with unapologetic White America.

***

An outtake from Your Daily Trump.

Shitlib/Cuck Uniparty media: “Trump has to be careful how he responds to these sexual assault allegations against Democrat Congressmen, given his own history with women…”

TRUMP: “…makes you wonder where Al Frankenstien’s hands were in pics 2, 3, 4 ,5, 6…”

Age isn’t denting Trump’s T level. And America is the better for His Chadness.

Read Full Post »

“Daddy’s Money”. 😂 I don’t call it “Twatter” for no reason.

H/T https://twitter.com/CheekiScrump

Read Full Post »

A Russian pranklord created an app called MakeApp that uses digital magic to strip the makeup from photos of women. The before and after pictures have provoked a worldwide triggering in our slutwalkers. You can ride a dimpled wave of butthurt at the Twatter #MakeApp hashtag. As @Moonman put it,

This guy just negged every thot on the internet, he deserves an award.

The Mass Effect Neg (MEN). See for yourselves:

Gentlemen, we may have found the proton torpedo to drop down narcissistic thots’ thermal exhaust ports. If beta male thirst has created a generation of egomaniac 5s, MakeApp will dry up that thirst and return sanity to the sexual market.

Naturally, feminists are reeling from the COGDIS implanted in them by MakeApp. Feminists are wont to bitch about everything (this is known as cuntplaining), but one complaint in particular is that “””society””” somehow manipulates them into wearing makeup. Well, OK, pussyhatters, if that’s true why are you so ass blasted by an app that removes society’s makeup from your charming mugs? Your negative reaction could almost make a man think your complaints are disingenuous, meant to absolve you of personal responsibility and kvetch about men having objective female attractiveness standards. WHA WHA WHAAAAAT?!?

@chesterbelloc draws the necessary conclusion which highlights what MakeApp signifies about our modern cutthroat, androgynous, antagonistic sexual market:

Never doubt that a man enraged at the misbehavior of a woman can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.

Feminist: “all women are beautiful”
Feminist, after MakeApp: “AACCK, THE RUSE IS UP, BAN THIS APP!!”

Too easy.

It’s amazing what MakeApp can reveal. It’s a powerful app!

The MakeApp algorithm may or may not be entirely accurate, but it’s pretty darned close; close enough to shock the shrike system.

I’ve written about makeup and the limited benefits it confers on women. Bottom line: makeup doesn’t do much to improve women’s looks. Fugs will still be fug with makeup, hotties will still be hot without makeup. Where makeup appears to have the biggest impact is among the fat (sad ‘heh’) middle of the belle curve, giving the 5s and 6s noticeable bumps in facial SMV (important information for fatty fucker blowjob hounds).

The limitations of makeup are obvious: 1. the morning after, and 2. market saturation. Makeup’s boost is less pronounced if all women use makeup (which they do). Makeup won’t increase a woman’s RELATIVE beauty to other women also wearing makeup, but it will make her prettier than her unpainted self. That may be enough to capture a man’s attention…until the morning sun exposes her natural coloring.

Not every woman looks worse after MakeApp. For example:

That’s the power of female youth. Makeup would be redundant on such an exquisite White babe.

The women who see the most benefit from makeup are masculinized manjaws with prominent cheekbones and sunken eyes, who are close to hitting the wall, eg Angelina Jolie. The makeup softens their angularity and lightens their shadows. Beautiful women don’t see much improvement from makeup; their natural beauty is already radiant. Makeup imo helps plain janes and weirdo chicks with odd facial bone substructure that gays and women love to parade on catwalks.

An enterprising womanizer could mass neg every chick in his little black contact list with MakeApp. Butter them up first…”Have you seen this new app? It can’t be real”…then deliver the payload….”no WAY do you look like that without makeup, right?”….and watch a thousand points of slice qualify themselves to you. The return of the post-industrial sexual market to a state of healthy, balanced functioning thanks you for your contribution.

Read Full Post »

Gaming Mean Girls

Game can work on middle school girls.

Now that your mind has prematurely (heh) drifted into the gutter, the follow-up context will save your mortal soul from eternal damnation. Reader mindweaponsofragnarok explains,

To show you how long Heartiste has been up:

2011….I’m awed and fascinated, high af on the Red Pill.

My daughter is 13 and having trouble with her female peers. A rich girl name Anna is jerking her around, “I’m your friend, I’m not your friend,” type games.

So I tell my 13 year old kid about Game. I tell her:

“Ignore Anna’s texts, until she sends you a few texts, then reply with one or two words at most, as though you didn’t have time or give a shit to even correspond with her. Trust me, try it!”

CH Poon Commandments V: Adhere to the golden ratio, and VI: Keep her guessing.

Give your woman [ed: or middle school BFF] 2/3 of everything she gives you. For every three calls or texts, give her two back. Three declarations of love earn two in return. Three gifts; two nights out. Give her two displays of affection and stop until she has answered with three more. When she speaks, you reply with fewer words. When she emotes, you emote less. The idea behind the golden ratio is twofold — it establishes your greater value by making her chase you, and it demonstrates that you have the self-restraint to avoid getting swept up in her personal dramas. Refraining from reciprocating everything she does for you in equal measure instills in her the proper attitude of belief in your higher status. In her deepest loins it is what she truly wants.

***

True to their inscrutable natures, women [ed: and middle school BFFs] ask questions they don’t really want direct answers to. Woe be the man who plays it straight — his fate is the suffering of the beta. Evade, tease, obfuscate. She thrives when she has to imagine what you’re thinking about her, and withers when she knows exactly how you feel. A woman may want financial and family security, but she does not want passion security. In the same manner, when she has displeased you, punish swiftly, but when she has done you right, reward slowly. Reward her good behavior intermittently and unpredictably and she will never tire of working hard to please you.

She did it, and Anna came to heel. She then used Game on boys, too, she used it on everyone. It was like I handed the kid a weapon and the answer to all social interaction became Game.

You opened Glandora’s Box for her. This is a dangerous power to give a flowering daughter.

However, she was also kind of a brat, but I sure as hell was NOT a beta daddy. I wouldn’t give her what she wanted, and she would wish death on such on me, and I would just laugh and say, “Whatever.” She would threaten all sorts of things, and i would just shut her out.

This was absolutely the best thing to do. The worst thing would have been to show weakness. She accused me of having no feelings at all. I would say, “That’s a good thing, LOL!”

Now she’s 19 years old and doing quite well.

For young daughters on the cusp of their formative years, Game save them from mean girls and preen boys. Or, it can turn them into femme fatales. The power of Game to warp female sexuality and self-entitlement is something to behold, because women live and breathe on their ability to jockey for intra-sex status through gossip, slander, and innuendo. Game can amplify all these traits in women, providing them with a better defense but also a thermonuclear offense. The wise daddio tempers his daughter’s growing power and keeps her grounded with tiny seeds of self-doubt, because the truth is that bloated female self-esteem is far more corrosive to the dating and marriage markets than is high male self-esteem.

Good to hear for this reader, his daughter learned just enough to exert active influence over her social life but not too much to make a lot of enemies and attract fly-by-night cads.

Read Full Post »

The Cuntescending Woman

Reader Matt has a Game question about how to handle a cuntescending woman.

Hey, was hoping for your advice here. I met this girl who’s married and in her 30s. I’m in my 20s and not attracted to her at all, yet she kept calling me her “little brother”. Because I’m not attracted to her I don’t want to be with her. But it still seemed like she was kinda friend zoning me anyway, a subtle form of disrespect. Because I want all women (even the ones I’m not interested in) to respect me im curious about your take on this and if it is a sign of disrespect, what to do about it.

I wouldn’t be so quick to assume she’s disrespecting you. Is she condescending? Sure. But women will sometimes condescend to relieve sexual tension, aka flirt. This particular woman knows she’s married and older than you. (And remember that in older woman years, a 10 year age difference is like a twenty year gap.) Rhetorically placing you in a “do not touch” glass case is how she spares her ego, given that she probably (and rightly) figures you, as a younger man, wouldn’t be attracted to her. It’s a case of sour grapes. (“i can’t have him, so I’ll pretend he’s off-limits by patronizing him like a little brother”)

It’s unusually casual for a woman you just met to refer to you as her “little brother”. She’s creating an artificial emotional distance between you two because she’s attracted to you but doesn’t want to jeopardize her marriage.

Don’t get all bent out of shape the next time she says it. Be calm and composed. Reply in the prescribed CH manner, with amused mastery:

“That’s sexy little brother to you.”

Replying this way let’s her know 1. she’s not worth taking seriously and 2. you are on to her true feelings for her. Even if she doesn’t have those feelings, you come out on top because you will have assumed the sale and thus regained hand over her. Give it a shot and let us know how it goes.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: