The Reality Of Game: Trump Negs Klum, She Responds… Predictably

Vox points out that Donald Fucking Trump used a classic game tactic — the neg — on (former) supermodel (and mudshark) Heidi Klum, when he said “she’s great, but no longer a 10”.

You know a man is a mega alpha when a single casual neg directed in an offhand manner at a former supermodel results in two videos and multiple public statements as the woman desperately tries to qualify herself to him.

The tingle-stricken lady doth protest too much.

The sheer incoherence of Klum’s remarks underline the degree to which Trump’s dismissive remark rattled her. That, gentlemen, is how it is done. Identify the insecurity and casually press. You know you’ve hit the nerve when their reaction spans days.

The alpha does not qualify himself to women, ever. He expects women to qualify themselves to him.

ABQ: Always Be Qualifying.

Oh, and ladies, a helpful reminder: If you are a White woman of incomparable beauty, don’t throw your genetic heritage away on a coalburning “F YOU DAD” mission. When you get older and less attractive (as you assuredly will), people will feel less urgency to extend you kindness and deference because your family looks weird and they’ll have doubts about your character. Can I get a two-for-one ‘heh’? Heh.

(Trump’s remark actually straddles the line between a neg and an insult, although a man with as much preselected alpha goodness as Trump has more margin for error in this matter. Nonetheless, I’d still call it a neg, because he did butter her up first before delivering the backhanded compliment.)

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Also from Vox, another demonstration of the power of Fame Game over women’s attraction triggers.

The best part about Game is watching a girl become “noticeably more interested” in you as you weave your biomechanic magic. It’s very satisfying, even apart from the normal anticipatory excitement that accompanies courtship.

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Game Tactic: Wounded Warrior Peacocking

wounded warrior
bloodied and calm
a silent storyboard
to her heart embalmed

Reader Noel describes the reactions he got after he injured his hand.

2. observation. conversation starters. I don’t know if CH et al. would classify it under ‘peacocking’. I recently messed up my right hand bad [typing only with left] so had surgery, and now the hand is in a splint. People seem to gravitate to it naturally and start conversations [‘what happened?’] along with eliciting a lot of ‘poor you’ remarks and ‘get well!’ wishes. The handicap is real not apparent like peacocking, and obviously it doesn’t show some evo superiority…but it lubricates social intercourse! surprisingly people are thrown off when i give a non-straightforward answer….i don’t know if it’s my delivery or people in san francisco [where i am] lack a sense of humor….

Don’t underestimate the power of wounded warrior game (of which scar game is a profitable subsidiary). Girls flock to men who look like they’ve stepped out of the beta drone office cubicle to survive a spot of adventure. A man’s injury, or permanent mark of a past injury, is rocket fuel for the female fantasia callosum, which she herself eagerly fills with anticipated tales of ZFG (zero fucks given) alpha rogue exploits.

Your job, should you choose the alpha path, is to strike the incipient fantasy chord always taut and ready for a symphony in her brain with your boning fork. Then, allow her imagination some time to run wild before revealing your secret, which of course you should reveal with the maximum vaginally-approved embellishment.

Why are women intrigued by a man with a scar or a wound?

1. Injuries are evidence of a fighter.

Deep, deeeeeeep, in the female hindbrain there resides a poetess who scribes limpid odes to a man who has taken all comers and emerged victorious. It’s evolution all the way down in this instance; women can’t shake that irrepressible lust for a man who bears evidence of his ability and willingness to physically protect them from danger.

2. Injuries add drama.

All women are drama whores. The difference between women and their love of drama is one of degree, not kind. You have to scale some courtship walls before you can take her on an adventure. Add a scar, and she’ll beg to go on the journey.

3. Injuries are a palimpsest over a soul full of brooding pain.

All women are also nurturers, more or less. The nurse in her begs to tend to your wounded soul, a soul which is easier for her to summon into existence if your body bears the stigmata of real wounds.

4. Injuries are the next best thing to female preselection.

Show up to a club with a beautiful woman in your company and other women in attendance will autonomically experience a swell of desire for you. This is because you are a proven commodity. (Women rely much more on these proxy cues of mate value than do men, who merely require a split second visual appraisal to activate the courtship ritual). An injury or scar works like a beautiful woman, plus the added benefit of an implicit invitation to find out more. Certainly, an omega male loser can have a scar, but women are wired to assume, usually correctly, that scars are most often the badges of men who don’t play marathon video game sessions in gloomy bedrooms or rant ineffectually on male feminist tumblrrheas. As Noel experienced, you will have an incredibly easy time striking up conversations with inquisitive girls if you’re hobbled or engraved with proof of past battles.

Piercings and tattoos are probably a “safe” scar-lite form of mate value enhancement preferred by hipsters and freaks, but now that women have co-opted the same symbols of warriordom they might not be as effective for men. You’ll need the real thing now. Surgically embedded knife wound scars?

PS When a girl asks about your scar or injury, a classic opening reply would be “Ah, it’s complicated.” Sexual innuendo also works, if the moment is appropriate: “Bedroom injury.” Another good reply is to make up an obviously phony reason for it: “Fighting my way out of ISIS captivity”. But I think the most productive reply is one that alludes, loosely, to a troubled time from your past: “I got it a long time ago. It’s not something I like to remember.”

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Chicks Dig The Overconfident, Charming Jerkboy And Future President Of The United States, Donald Trump

Via.

There’s no end to the ways in which being an alpha male is better than being a beta male.

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How Much Is A Jerkboy Convict Worth To Women?

Nine million dollars.

[Marie] Holmes, of North Carolina, decided that she was going to accept her $188 million winnings in one lump sum, meaning she was awarded $127 million. After taxes, she received $88 million. And while Holmes announced that she had plans to pay her tithes and set up college funds for her children, she’s ended up doing something entirely different with her riches.

Shortly after she won the money, Holmes posted $3 million bond for her boyfriend Lamarr McDow. McDow was in jail, facing heroin trafficking charges. McDow was implicated after an investigation unearthed more than 8,000 bags of heroin. […]

She then spent an additional $6 million to get McDow out of prison. He was released with a GPS monitoring device.

Meanwhile, everywhere in America a beta provider niceguy buys dinner for a lovely 31-year-old educated woman with an encyclopedic knowledge of ethnic and racial penis shapes, who dumps him via text one week later.

Two other people in the house were also charged with simple possession. Three children were present at the time of the arrest, McDow said they were his children.

But he wasn’t sure, just a guess, he later told the reporter.

Marie Holmes, “the 26-year-old, single mother of four, [who] had won the Powerball lottery”, is not bad-looking for a nubian princess.

Naturally, there is the race angle. It’s very impulsive to splurge for a jerkboy’s bail to the tune of $9 mil, so we can expect to encounter more measured judgment from a white or asian woman. So let’s say the white woman coughs up $4 mil for her white jerkboy inmate, and the asian woman pays $200 for her asian jerkboy.

In other “grrlpower gone wild” news, a bindi feminist ran a marathon purposefully dripping period blood out of her gross vaganges and down her legs the whole way. Photos are at the link. Even I, the Great Shivver, cannot bring myself to inflict this level of intestinal distress on the CH readers by posting pics here on the hallowed grounds of Le Chateau.

Thanks to her overriding femcunt need to whore for attention, no man will touch this mahatma menstrual show with Amanda Marcotte’s dick. Maybe she’ll get lucky and attract some creepy pervert who’s into “blood stuff”. It puts the curry in the basket…

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The Joy Of Game

I don’t think it gets told often enough here at Le Chateau, but Game, when executed with flair and precision, can be quite a joy to experience, both for the giver of Game and the receiver of Game. Reader Lichtof supplies an anecdote which demonstrates this truism about the crimson arts.

Girl at work – she’s 25..I’m 37..she had a history of not getting her timesheet in on time. This week she did

9.27 Me : Timesheet- boooooooo! Hiss!!
9.29 Her: Are you unhappy that its already done?
9.37 Me: Yes – now I can’t bug you
9.39 Her: LOL – I’ll try to slack off next time
9.42 Me: I can only handle predictability
9.43 Her: Gotta keep you on your toes!
9.45 Me: And there’s no beer left (in staff kitchen)
9.45 Her: I drank it all. Dark times here at (firm’s name)
9.55 Me: Not into dark beer but (bar name) has a grolsch – we will go sometime – wait haven’t I been here before?

Within minutes she was by my desk and 2 hours later asked me to lunch.

I bet you smiled reading this. A skilled seduction has an almost harmonic lilt to the ear. Flirtation is the poetic transmogrification of primitive desires. Notice, too, how a man with tight game energizes a woman, and summons the best of her; namely, her playfulness. A woman who is fortunate to be the lust object of a man with a nimble tongue and mischievous squint is a woman eager to relinquish her resting bitch face to the full flowering of her feminine soul.

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The Great Men On Unfunny Girls

Via reader StAugustine, who supplied a quote from Irvin Cobb as an answer to the Hivemind media propaganda blitz asserting that women are just as funny as men.

Seriously. From Irwin S. Cobb’s memoirs (1923), I’ve treasured this nugget:

“You may have noticed that in making this classification, I have used the masculine gender exclusively. I have done so advisedly and after due thought, because all the best authorities agree that it is not in the nature of a woman to take a joke, for better or for worse, the first time she meets it face to face. In the matter of being shown, the average woman, so far as humor is concerned, is so far out in Missouri that she’s practically in Kansas. She is up on the tallest peak of the Ozark Mountains, very skeptical, not to say skittish. She wants to hear a thing that’s funny several times and let it soak into her and mingle with her other ingredients; then after a suitable period of time she begins to care for it and forever after bears it a deep and lasting affection. At least, soothe authorities confirm.”

Cobb captured a particular feature of women very well: their conformist herd mentality influences almost everything they set about to understand, even the world of humor. But once woman has latched onto a novel observation (or narrative) she won’t easily relinquish it, until signaled by her peers that it’s ok to do so.

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The “Three Boyfriend Blurts” Rule

Here’s a game tip for aspiring womanizers that more experienced swains probably already know:

The more a girl mentions her boyfriend — either by name or by label — during the course of a conversation originally unrelated to anything about her boyfriend, the likelier it is she is aroused by your presence and therefore compelled to grasp onto “verbal anchors” that remind her of her ties to her boyfriend so as to alleviate her swelling guilt and, in case things spin out of control, to back-rationalize any cheating she does as outside the realm of her personal responsibility.

I call this the “three boyfriend blurts” rule. I’ve found, unfailingly, that women who plug the word “boyfriend” three times or more into their conversations with me are invariably attracted to me and enjoying my company beyond the bounds of propriety. These are the tell-tale female cues that they are stricken by guilty tingles, and are feeling at once desirous, desirable, and ashamed.

Once I know this, I can construct the flow and direction of our conversation toward more seductive destinations.

Most men are put off when a girl mentions her boyfriend out of the blue and worse, over and over, but they should really consider it a seduction opportunity. When a girl wedges a discordant declaration of the existence of her boyfriend into her rambling train of thought multiple times, the odds of illicit romantic closure with a charming interloper rise commensurate to the number of boyfriend blurts. The multiple boyfriend blurts are less warnings to other men than they are signals to approach her from an angle, because “taken” girls spook easily, like horses.

There’s only one exception to this rule, and it’s a weak exception, hardly belying the general observation: Some girls — particularly high maintenance BPD drama queens — who have fallen for a new guy will declare it from the rooftops on the flimsiest pretexts. However, this stage of try-hard infatuation usually lasts for a few weeks, two months tops, and they are more pliable to a supple seduction than their protestations to the contrary would suggest.

Girls who truly love their boyfriends, who are low infidelity risks, and who are secure in the knowledge that their boyfriends love them back, will be noted for the *absence* of mentions they make of their boyfriends. Paradoxical at first consideration, it makes sense upon reflection… a committed woman in love feels no need to prop up her own sexual loyalty to her boyfriend nor feels much need to artificially inflate via verbal incantation the sexual loyalty of her boyfriend.

For this reason, it’s almost a welcome convenience to hear the anxious staccato blurts of a “””taken””” woman instead of the opaque discretion of a legitimately taken woman who feels little psychic tension to announce her disengagement from the dating market.

Best of all, of course, is to hear no reference to a boyfriend, but even that is no guarantee you wouldn’t play the unknowing part of the furtive rendezvous lover.

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