Women

I think that I shall never see
Women as varied as these three.

A woman whose slender waist is prest
Between her shapely butt and breasts;

A woman who looks at God all day,
To thank Him for her face He made;

A woman who may in Summer wear
A tent of canvas round her rear;

Beneath whose bottom darkness falls;
And megafauna repair to doze.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But that big mama fell out the ugly tree.

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Are Antidepressants Ruining American Women?

Think about the ecumenical change in society that, intuitively, must be happening with the widespread use of various hindbrain altering drugs, like the Pill and antidepressants. This is a change in biochemistry unparalleled in human evolutionary history. It’d be a miracle of serendipity if there weren’t blowback.

A reader surmises,

Great site. Good advice. But …

There is something to be said for all the anti-depressants/mood stabilizers/whatevers that women are taking these days. And I mean, a LOT of women on are on these psych drugs. You’re asking me so what, right? Well …

A lot of a man’s behavior toward women rests on the presumption (truth) that women are insecure and may get depressed at times, and when they do, they choose a man that has been solid for them. They either choose one, confide in the one they “love” or return to one. BUT, with these drugs, I think a lot of their negative feelings are prevented, making them less vulnerable.

It’s something I’ve noticed among professional women. Sure, maybe my game isn’t what it was, but I think it’s worth addressing. Women’s drugs are changing the game a little bit.

An interesting hypothesis we have here, and one that may go a ways to explaining why there is a growing impression among American men that their women are becoming manlier, sluttier, present-time oriented, and all-around less provocatively charming.

Here’s a lovefact sure to torque a feminist’s fat hamster into a tailspin:

Maxim #27: Beyond beauty, a woman’s attractiveness to men is partly a function of her feminine vulnerability, or her ability to mimic feminine vulnerability.

Corollary to Maxim #27: Men are turned off by overconfident, assertive, proudly self-sufficient women.

Yep, despite the delusional claptrap that feminists want the world to believe, men don’t swoon for women who act like men. Non-manboobed men with hanging testicles don’t, at any rate. Invulnerability is not sexy on women.

Men, at least K-selected men from the frigid Northlands where the cold winds blow and nothing grows for six months, are hard-wired with a protection instinct. We want to guard the carriers of our kingly posterity.

Evolution, therefore, has ensured that men respond viscerally to beautiful, weak women needing protection. A woman in need rallies a man’s ready seed.

Enter antidepressants. Suddenly women all over the sub-veneer tribal landscape are feeling invincible, unstoppable, and perfectly capable on their own. “No means no, creeper!” The manly protective (beta) instinct which warms the hearts of biochemically natural women leaves SSRI drugged-up simulacra of women feeling indifferent, even antagonistic, to the same signals of stoically masculine benefaction.

Multiply this effect a hundredfold in the homeland of the SWPL: The big blue whitening cities of the coasts, where every vibrantly atomized lawyercunt and her bovine cockblock are hopped up on happy happy happy pills. No joke, I’d bet 80% of Obama Country college-grad white chicks are dazed and confused with the help of Big Father Pharma. That percentage jumps to 99% when you expand the age range to include spinsters with two or more cats aka alpha male substitutes.

All successful game requires, in lesser or greater dose, the deployment, consciously or otherwise, of psychological tactics which raise the man’s relative status, lower the woman’s relative status, or both. This is a fact of the nature of the sexes, and it exists because the lifeblood of lust is fed to men and women by different veins. What excites a woman — the challenging company of a higher value, dominant man — is different than what excites a man — the company of a coy, vulnerable, pretty woman. You can rail to the ends of the earth about this fallen state of humanity, but you will never change it, not as long as there are two sexes evolved with differing reproductive goals.

It makes sense, then, that drugs which create a disturbance in the sexual polarity force would also have a downstream effect on courtship, both the traditional and the modern game styles of mate acquisition. A less vulnerable-feeling woman is a woman less receptive to beta provider game, and — this is getting deep into CH theory of modern dating dynamics territory — more receptive to sexy alpha bounder game.

An artificially happy and confident woman is, in short, a no-game-having beta male’s worst nightmare.

(A few of you wags might say that SSRIs are helping turn the US from a Euro mating market to an African mating market, where sky high self-esteem absent any supporting evidence is the norm.)

As a visionary acolyte of Le Chateau, you want to know how to make this new social reality work for you. (Some of you want to change it back to where it was before it turned wicked, but that is a concern for wise old men with rerouted energies.) A good start is dread game, which is the seducer’s answer to invulnerable women.

Some other proto-men, like the scalzied followers of male feminists, take the opposite tack, and submit themselves completely to the whim of Tsarina Bombas, in hopes, apparently, that their utter prostration would excite in women the pity fuck compulsion before it triggers their active repulsion reflex.

A specific skill of modern seduction, as channeled through game, will therefore need to be (sadly from a certain perspective) the ability to evoke, in pinprick psychological jabs, sadness, fear, worry and self-doubt in the Happy Harlots of Late Hour America. If you lack this skill, you’ll find more cynical men stealing your lamb meat off your white linened table.

Or, you could just wait out the coming collapse in your Galtian gulch, and watch the feckless loverboys starve in the streets live-streamed, as the newly vulnerable women rediscover the value of your warm hearth. But by that time, you’ll have stuccoed the entirety of your masturbatorium.

The antidepressant ruination of American women is a theory worth investigating, particularly in light of observational evidence in favor. Perhaps enterprising readers will unearth studies which connect the dots. Or perhaps they’ll just say “what the fuck”, and give the Supergirls a double dose of ego-smashing sexytime.

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A Dying Culture’s Malignant Tumors

Prepare to glimpse into the belching maw of the Dystopia Abyss…

‘For reasons unfathomable to the court,’ BethMarie Retamozzo, 34, ‘would rather have [her boyfriend] in her life than to reunite with her children,’ judge wrote in Aug. 8 order.

The background:

A white single mom (if photo is accurate) has amassed a grand total of seven children by at least three different men, one white, one hispanic, one black.

This model mom is trying to regain custody of two of her bastard spawn, who are now under the care of her parents.

Her current boyfriend is a Class A badboy who has hit one of the kids with a belt and exposed himself to another.

She ignored her own protection order which she had against her boyfriend to be with him, and lied to the court about it, thus violating a court order barring the boyfriend from being present during her visits with the children.

WIth the help and/or incompetence of her visit supervisor/landlord, single mom abducts her kids and heads for a truck stop in South Carolina, where cops eventually catch up with her thanks to the trail of texts she sent to her boyfriend along the entire trip.

This is dysgenic idiocracy accelerated to warped speed. Every one of these losers is a cancer feeding on the soul of a once-healthy culture, which we all pay for the pleasure. And the elite, safely ensconced behind private schools, egregious zoning laws and sky high rents, mock from a safe distance, unwilling or unable to grasp how their policies and ideological pronouncements encourage the downward spiral, or how their sanctuaries shrink by the day, their overrun imminent.

I met an orphan from a deracinated land
Who said, ‘A mother and a judge in robes
Stand in family court. Near them at the table,
Half mad, a sadistic lawyer lies, whose greed
And rubbing hands and sneer of cold command
tell that its benefactor well its interests read
Which yet survive, stamped on these broken wards,
The handout that enslaves them and the heart that is bled.
And on the chamber door these words appear:
‘My name is Feminism, daughter of Equalism:
Look on my works, ye merry, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that cultural wreck, shameless and bare,
The lone and empty homes stretch far away”.

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The Randomness Of Polar Bear Hunting

Something totally random happened in Oklahoma yesterday. A white man was randomly shot and killed by three random uruk-hais randomly pointing guns out of their random ghettomobile, and randomly choosing a target upon whom to unload their random fleeting emotions which some might randomly refer to less randomly as a pointed expulsion of hate.

Here are random photos of the random killers looking like any random person would look who randomly decided to shoot a man dead in the back:

In related news, I randomly chose wine instead of kerosene to drink last weekend. I randomly wore shoes to walk outside instead of going barefoot. And I randomly avoided a dilapidated neighborhood known to be full of restless orcs. It’s this randomness of life that makes all of us feel morally superior for avoiding the notice of any non-random occurrences. Three cheers for awful, tragic randomness!

“They pulled up behind him and shot him in the back then sped away,” said Capt. Jay Evans of Duncan Police Department. “It could have been anybody — it was such a random act.”

“It could have been anybody.” Translation: “The shit is going to hit the fan if white people start noticing that it wasn’t just anybody.”

Just how confidently can this police captain claim randomness as a crime motive? Were the three joy-shooters — two nightmare beasts and one miscegenated quasimodo — completely unaware of the race of their chosen victim?

Questions to ask the Captain:

How many people did the perps pass in their car before shooting Lane?
Was Lane the first “random” target they saw that day?
Did they pass up the chance to shoot any blacks before targeting Lane for the kill?
If the shooting was random, why were pedestrians coming toward them spared? The back shot seems especially cowardly and proof of forethought rather than pure chance.
Why, if the violence was totally random, is it two blacks and one mulatto with identity issues who stand accused of the crime in a city, Duncan, OK, that is only 3% black?

Of course, these questions will never be answered. Because the truth is a shiv to the post-modern, post-Western, anti-white posterity cleansing project. The truth is that there was nothing “random” about this morbidly banal killing; three gutter fiends spotted a white man — an iconic-looking white man jogging in that iconically white way — and gleefully took aim with all the roiling envy and hate their black hearts could muster, channeled into the spear of hot metal that would reward them with a few minutes of spastic joy.

Chris Lane was polar beared, just like Matty Yglesias was polar beared in his gentrifying DC enclave, except Lane took a lethal blow while Mattyboy was lucky to endure a flying fist as the weapon of choice of his insta-haters.

Look at that photo above, Mattyboy. Look at it real close. You know it. I know it. This is degeneracy. Human regression to a primitive prototype. Hate Machine in motion. Idiocracy ascendent. Brutish subterranean vessels of rank disgorged id spit forth from the perforating bowels of a diseased culture that has embraced lies and abandoned truth.

The Cathedral isn’t simply a metaphor for the mouthpieces of the mass media; its darkness — its evil — reaches deep into schools, government, entertainment industries, and apparently even local police departments. No mind is safe from its memetic synapse-blasting. Not even the minds of those who are up to their necks in daily reminders of reality and should know better than to spout blatant reality-warping lies intended as much to humiliate the listener as to redirect rage.

In this world, our Cathedral mind prison, media organs credulously accept the word of subhuman filth who claim boredom and random target acquisition for their actions, but will spin spin the universe on its axis to twist a news story about a Hispanic guy shooting a thug in defense who was bashing his head into the ground as a morality tale of white racism against angelic minorities.

Pre-human monsters from the abyss = wide-eyed Cathedral credulity.

Niceguy Hispanic looking out for his neighbors = Cathedral doubleplussmear campaign.

When you lie down with rotting filth, you get up with bad habits of the mind. Excise this stinking corpse of a nation from your mind, it is no longer a part of you and you are no longer a part of it. Time to rebuild something new, better, true and beautiful from the smoldering ashes. People are awakening. A cataclysm stirs.

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Poolside In America

Would you call this man smart? I would.

He jams, drinks, surfs, lounges beachside all day, and eats lobster on the public dime. Oh sure, he doesn’t have a lot of material possessions (but how’d he get that car?) that define the accomplished SWPL life, but when you’re banging hot southern Cally girls, (and I bet you big bank he’s tapping more sweet ass than a hundred Apple employees turning six figures are buying dinners for), the urge to bust your balls hunched over a computer screen 50 hours a week so you can acquire the latest iteration of some useless gadget and pay taxes for your active dispossession kind of fades away. The Dude abides his new perspective.

Poolside in America is the nation’s 21st century battle cry. And why not? The country is sinking fast under mounds of debt, unemployment, and alienation. The government pushes propaganda and policies that undermine the very concept of a nation, so no wonder growing numbers of Americans are jettisoning any feeling of duty toward their homeland like so much gassy ballast. Social atomization and the sheer massive scale of a bloated 300+ million population of competing races, ethnicities, behaviors, and temperaments herded like cats under ever-tightening rules and regulations and surveillance drones doomed to fail are splintering hard-earned loyalty and severing bonhomie. Obscene inequality of wealth and the total abandonment of noblesse oblige by the ruling classes has emboldened the leeches and parasites and sociopaths and hedonists and nihilists and clear thinkers. In the land of the left-behind, the poolsider is king.

Toward the end of the video, the interviewer asks RattLife Surfer if he feels guilty for taking advantage of Obama’s removal of restrictions on qualifying for food stamps, and helping himself to $200 of “free” money every month. He says no, and I believe him. It would be strange to feel guilt for sucking a pittance of Danegeld from fat cats helping themselves to ungodly profits from arcane financial transactions abetted by a cognitive firewall between the masses and the gated 0.1%ers on the hunt for ever-cheaper labor imported from shitholes. RattLife has made a very rational decision regarding his well-being: He has looked at the world he inherited, at the immense chasm between the haves and (relative) have-nots, and has figured that slaving away in a cube farm or a grimy sweatshop on a stagnating wage to serve a smaller and smaller cadre of super wealthy and femcunt HR schoolmarms is no life at all. What is the point of busting your hump when the brass ring has moved from your fingertips to Alpha Centauri?

“My job is to make sure the sun’s up and the girls are out.”

Now that’s radical.

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Open Borders Logo Contest

Sperglord, or Master Meta-Troll, Bryan “the moral and utilitarian thing to do is open the border to my rectum to any undersexed homosexuals so that Gross Domestic Penis is increased” Caplan is hosting an Open Borders Logo Contest. Naturally, the site was infiltrated with mischievous pranksters (Leroy Krune!). My favorite so far:

I think the funniest thing about the pranksters is how oblivious Team Autist appeared to be to their pet project getting tooled so blatantly. One of the Team Autist members, Rojas, “Liked” Krune’s obvious trolls multiple times.

If I were to design an Open Borders Logo, it would pack a little more visceral punch.

UPDATE

Here’s the Immigration Restrictionist Logo:

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Tight Game From 1910

Full-Fledged Fiasco passed along this link to an example of the kind of game that men had access to way back in 1910:

~ Modern Woman and How to Manage Her, by Walter M. Gallichan, 1910

Beautifully put. The Gilded Age stands in stark contrast to the Gelded Age in which we are currently mired. And mirin.

Game has always been with us. Contrary to the flimsy strawmen of game denialists who delude themselves into thinking game is some sort of modern nerd fest with no analogue in esteemed cultural history, the facts bear out just how romantically savvy and game-aware were men of the past, should those men have chosen to enlighten themselves beyond their mothers’ saccharine teachings. One hundred years ago, people knew what women were about; only recently it seems we have had to relearn the age-old lessons. Blame it on the Flim-flam Effect.

Of course, this knowledge of the crimson arts was likely not known by the term “game” in 1910. Perhaps it went by some other name, like “reality”, or “charisma”, or “the Gods of the Copybook Headings”. The term that is used to describe ancient human rhythms is irrelevant; what matters are the insights. And in 1910, at least some had amazing insight into the feminine soul. Look at the ways this passage closely aligns with modern game teachings.

“the impulse to nag must be regarded as common and normal in women”

Modern game theorists accept as a foundational premise that sex differences in behavior are real, and immutable, and that ignoring these differences will have profound consequences for one’s success in the sexual market.

“it is only when the nagging is incessant and excessive that it degenerates into a morbid vice”

Relationship game. Women get progressively nastier to the men in their lives if those men allow them to run roughshod. This is known as the creeping betatization of domestication. (Nice ring to it.) A woman’s happiness and contentment in a relationship are directly proportional to the willing refusal of her man to put up with her shit.

“the best way to manage a nagging woman is to agree with her that you are a perfect brute and wretch”

Agree and amplify. Core game technique.

“and then to laugh at her”

Amused mastery. Core game concept.

“if that fails, fly from her presence”

NEXT.

What in that antediluvian, 90% white America paragraph is substantially different from anything taught today by avowed pick-up artists? Answer: Nothing. The only major difference between the “game” of yesteryear and the game of today is the scientific strength and experimental feedback that modern seduction proponents draw from relatively recent developments like evolutionary psychology and instantly transmitted field reports.. If you were to talk to a savvy man from 1910 about evolutionary psychology, he would look at you like you were from Mars. But if you were to ask him how he handles his woman, a wealth of knowledge would be yours for the taking.

It’s time for American men to return to their roots. Their deep roots. Only from the roots will the tree of knowledge of good and evil regrow its lost might.

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