Death By Tree

The modest Lion of the Blogosphere tirelessly works to alert the citizenry to the threat of death by cow, but there is another evil that lurks in our nation’s parks and quiet retreats: death by tree.

This is not the first time a rogue tree has snuffed out a life. Four years ago, a woman was killed and a man put into a coma by falling tree limbs. Three years ago, a man walking through Central Park minding his own business was taken out by a psychopathic tree limb. Witnesses heard someone yelling “This is for Treevon”, which news outlets were slow to divulge.

The number of casualties and severity of the crimes tell the story: Trees are more dangerous than cows.

My suggestion is to remove your headphones when walking through areas known to be populated by aggressive, killer trees with low future time orientation. You need to be aware of your surroundings so that you can move out of the way when you hear the crack of a giant limb about to hurtle to the ground. Another suggestion is to reduce immigration of less competent people.

Delligatti and other people who live nearby told Fox 5 they were not surprised by the falling tree. They say many of the trees in Kissena Park appear to be in bad condition.

“They need another program where competent people, tree people, [sic] to come around and assess which trees should be taken down, because it’s a mess,” said Delligatti.

The demographic future of America is on track to be comprised of many more incompetent people than we have now, so expect these sorts of “mishaps” to occur more regularly. It’s time to plan your daily life around the reality that there is a big, intrusive government which claims it will take care of you but actually does a bad job of taking care of you.

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Funny Shit Fatties Do

In my travels far and WIDE, I have seen fat people do some really funny shit, usually unintentionally, or have funny shit happen to them on account of their abnormal size, weight, girth and texture. Can’t forget texture.

– Unknowingly dribble food bits and drink down their chins. A fatty completely oblivious to the organic particulates accumulating outside his mouth is a comedic sight to behold.

– Knock over chairs and rattle tables as they were shimmying into seats at restaurants. I once witnessed a fatty so humongous and ill-equipped to navigate her own circumference turn over an entire four-seater table in slo-mo, as her massiveness rounded the bend and she settled her planetary obstruction into her pitiably undersized chair. The table came crashing to the ground, spilling dinnerware and a sad candle onto the floor with a loud clatter.

– Fart with the slightest exertion at the waist. No matter how uptight you are, you won’t be able to restrain a chortle when you hear a fatty rip a sonorous cheek-flapper as she’s bending over a mere inch to straighten a wrinkle on her tent pants. And lest you think you can politely hide your amusement, remember that a fatty’s fart is ten times as loud as a normal weight person’s fart, given that the fatty’s back draft has multiple zones of blubber to travel before final release. You’d think this would act to muffle the offending blast, but instead, like a geothermal well, pressure builds until the equivalent of a refinery’s worth of gas has parted the outer ass layer, and the slapping of cheese-cleaved butt roasts produces a ten-piece trumpet tremolo worthy of the Philharmonic.

– Break a chair. Yes, despite its clichéd nature, I remember clear as the day the time a fatty sat her bulk on a chair and one of the back legs gave out, flinging her backwards like a post-breach whale. She landed with such adiposity that… and I swear this as Lucifer is my unholy mentor… she bounced a little upon impact.

– Take a direct hit from an out-of control bicyclist and barely nudge as the guy on the bike goes flying in the opposite direction. A particularly overgrown specimen of fatty — a man weighing in the arena of 400 pounds, mostly confined to the belly and, steatopygially, to the buttocks — was winged by a bicyclist who, inexplicably, didn’t see the fatty before it was too late to avoid collision. The fatty took the brunt of the front wheel’s tangential blow to the bull’s-eye on his hanging midsection and fell back two steps, still miraculously on his feet, while the bicycler, and his bike, ricocheted like a bank shot pool ball at a tidy 45 degree angle from point of contact, finishing their macabre pirouette in a heap on the ground, front wheel futilely spinning in the air, grasping for asphalt that wasn’t there. The fatty did eventually fall to his feet, but only well after the dust had cleared, ostensibly to catch his breath from the blow’s radiating shock waves of pain, thirty seconds post-crash, that were just reaching his delicate innards. Bystanders rushed to help the bicyclist but assistance for the fatty was, of course, beyond anyone’s ability, given that no witness appeared able to deadlift 400 pounds of dangerously shifting weight.

– Absorb a sunburn in a perfect circle on the abdomen. A fatty female who, incomprehensibly to those with sense, was wearing a bikini and sunbathing on her back, stood up to reveal a bright red spot that circumnavigated the entirety of her yeast-risen belly. The perfect geometry and smoothness of edge was astounding, and gave her front the look of a red-rumped baboon in heat.

– Smoosh flip-flops into micron-thin atomic layers. Take a look at a fatty’s flip-flops sometime. Notice how wafer-thin the soles are. Then laugh as you wonder if the flip-flop’s atomic lattice was pressurized into a new periodic table element.

– Push seven large, sweating and grunting, adult men to the breaking point during the Horah. No further elucidation needed.

– Since this is a non-denominational shaming session, I once saw a fatty with tits so grossly inflated completely bury her Madonna-esque crucifix in folds of breast blubber. Jesus wheezed.

And my favorite fatty funny….

– Listen to a fat chick expound at length about her “great catch” boyfriend, only to watch her unscripted surprise when he showed up, apparently uninvited, at the social gathering we were attending, and thereby proved without a doubt, by evidence of both his notable lack of swagger and blank personality, just how far he actually was from being a “great catch”. But the best part was when, later, she asked for a sip of his beer and then proceeded to chug nearly half the bottle, leaving him with a sorry puddle of dregs at the bottom, which he stared at forlornly for an uncomfortably long spell.

Some people, probably fat asses themselves, with a constitutional aversion to the idea of mocking fat fucks for fun and aesthetic profit, have forwarded CH a study* which claims to show that fat shaming doesn’t work as a method to persuade fatties to slim down. To that, I say, that’s not shaming! You want shaming, I’ll give you shaming. Real shaming, not this pussyfoot crap based on an amorphous concept like “discrimination” favorable to Narrative guidelines.

*There is a major flaw with the “fat shaming” study. Specifically, the researchers relied on self-reporting questionnaires that asked whether participants had experienced discrimination. Anyone who is familiar with the hamster rationalizing of assorted losers in life, such as fat grotesqueries and chisel-chinned feminists, will tell you how adept those people are at blaming anyone but themselves for their wretched wretchedness. So it should be no surprise that a bunch of fat shits waddled into a quiet study to fill out a form with cheetos-stained fingers blaming the equivalent of THE MAN for their love of wolfing down greasy fried food and pints of ice cream.

Now, if you want real shaming that actually BITES, try shaming fat shits with methods proven to work. Charge them more to use public transit. Laugh openly at them. Make a spectacle of them. Flay their souls for the mirth of the cheering, howling mob, a la Chateau Heartiste. Sneer at, belittle, and viciously mock them. Or, if you prefer the crueler, subtler art of soul shivving, converse with them in innuendo and sly entendre that lets them know, forever and ever, how repulsive they are to normal people.

If, after years of this psychological torture, most fatties don’t find the fortitude to push away from the table, then you may say that shaming doesn’t work. But I suspect, rather strongly based on real world observation, that many fatties would discover in themselves a hidden untapped well of willpower, and lose the weight. For those fatties who prefer to abandon all hope under the social shaming onslaught and retreat to a dank bedroom to eat until they explode, well, consider it culling the herd. Evolution in action. The untimely dispatch of a species’ deformed members gets a bad rap, but it’s a good thing for the species’ survival as a whole. And the slim phoenix that rises from the rendered ashes will be a good thing for lovers, such as CH, of truth and beauty and sexy babes who can inspire authentic boners.

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Leftoids Fear Themselves More Than They Fear Redneck Bogeymen

An anonymous commenter at Sailer’s left this interesting remark about the psychology motivating the lords of lies:

“Some of the virulence… stems from an underlying chain of logic in elite thinking that I find scary: If young black males really do tend to be more crime-prone, then…oh, no, the Nazis were right! So if Americans ever become embarrassed by the insipid political correctness we instruct them to spout, they will immediately thaw out Hitler’s cryogenically preserved brain and elect it president. Or something.”

I’ve noticed this for a long time. I can’t claim to have a perfect explanation, but keep in mind that most American lefties tend to embrace (at least implicitly) two key ideas: Utilitarianism and Utopianism.

Look at all the hip SWPL charities that swear their mission is to “End ______ forever!” (Insert “poverty”, “child abuse”, “racism”, “gun violence”, etc.) In contrast, dour conservatives (whether religious or secular) tend to agree with the Gospel warning “the poor you have always with you“.

Similarly, lefties in the USA tend to be basically Utilitarian on most issues- the idea that something should be avoided simply because it is intrinsically immoral strikes most of them as rather quaint, except for issues that don’t really affect them personally, on which they can afford to be high-minded (In fairness, too many conservative Republicans have the same problem, just for different issues). A woman got knocked up by mistake? Sure, abort the pregnancy for her convenience. Dad’s taking too long to die and running up big medical bills? Euthanize him. A jury failed to make an example of an innocent man as instructed? Screw double jeopardy and bring him up on “hate crime” charges.

When you believe (at least implicitly) that 1) Society can be perfected by human means, or at least come reasonably close to perfection, and 2) any practical means to achieve that objective should be seriously considered, the progressive dread of politically-incorrect Hatefacts starts to make more sense. If “genetically inferior” blacks are all that is standing in the way of turning every city in America into a hipster SWPL paradise, what can’t be justified? My theory, then, is that, despite what they say, progressives are not really worried about what crotchety conservatives and religious zealots out in flyover country will do if frank discussions of race become commonplace- they’re worried about what they themselves will have to consider doing. Already, most urban progressives aren’t bothered much by the NYPD’s institutionalized racial profiling, the disproportionate abortion rate of blacks, or sex-ed programs clearly targeted at black teens. How big of a leap is it to, say, forced sterilization? I don’t presume to speak for progressives, but it doesn’t seem like much of a leap to me.

Projection… it’s what’s for dinner!

This commenter is onto something. The progressive aka leftoid (a term of art CH coined to fully capture the anti-human, hivemind quality of progressive psychology) harbors deeply troubling thoughts. Dark intimations swirl in his heart when solitude and a time-out from status whoring allow the full range of his true feelings to command silent attention. These discomfiting brain betrayals of RealThink which flit in and out of the leftoid’s conscious awareness truly upset him. He’s supposed to be The Good Man. Why does he feel so much unease when reality and his rectitude collide?

For some leftoids, self-flagellation cleanses the impure thoughts and offers redemption among peers. But for most, gargantuan egos unable to tolerate pointed self-abasement direct their discomfort outward to animus-bearing stand-ins, i.e. racial cousins, who have been caricatured and, in a way, enshrined as moral infants in need of the leftoid’s divine guidance. It’s in his act as the bringer of phony salvation and the dispenser of righteous judgment that the leftoid maneuvers around his own dangerous crimethink, and continually postpones the day when his superego must reconcile with his id.

When the moment of reckoning arrives — as such moments will when reality weighs down so heavily upon internalized propaganda that its sustenance is no longer possible — don’t be shocked at the depravities the leftoid is capable of summoning. He is a perfectionist, a utopian, and a moral supremacist: A psychological trifecta hitched to a constitutionally unhappy person that can unleash immense evil and even immenser rationalizations for that evil.

So, down in the carbonized core of his arhythmic heart, the leftoid knows he is a Grendel, a monster of the misty night who can’t stand the sounds of normal humanity. His twisted compulsions drive him to meddle in everything that seem not up to the standards of his fantasies, and he suspects he would do monstrous things if the moral winds ever shifted and opened up new utopian opportunity. He suspects monstrous deeds are his tomorrow because he thinks monstrous thoughts today.

A prediction: The first large-scale, mandatory “sterilization for welfare” program will be proposed, framed skillfully in the garb of slippery sophistry and blame redirection, by a SWPL leftoid, and advocated by a SWPL leftoid message machine. You read it here.

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Marriage Down, Ho’s Up

New research examining marital patterns in the Disunited States is out, and it’s not looking good for the nuptial blissers (or for the civilization gatekeepers).

Marriage Rate Lowest in a Century

Fewer women are getting married and they’re waiting longer to tie the knot when they do decide to walk down the aisle. That’s according to a new Family Profile from the National Center for Family and Marriage Research (NCFMR) at Bowling Green State University.

According to “Marriage: More than a Century of Change,” the U.S. marriage rate is 31.1, the lowest it’s been in over a century. That equals roughly 31 marriages per 1,000 married women. Compare that to 1920, when the marriage rate was a staggering 92.3.

Since 1970, the marriage rate has declined by almost 60 percent. “Marriage is no longer compulsory,” said Dr. Susan Brown, co-director of the NCFMR. “It’s just one of an array of options. Increasingly, many couples choose to cohabit and still others prefer to remain single.”

Furthermore, a woman’s average age at first marriage is the highest it’s been in over a century, at nearly 27 years old. “The age at first marriage for women and men is at a historic highpoint and has been increasing at a steady pace,” states Dr. Wendy Manning, co-director of the Center.

Well, that’s one way to avoid the temptation to cheat and deep six your marriage: Get married when you’re older and have fewer sexual market options.

There has also been a dramatic increase in the proportion of women who are separated or divorced. In 1920, less than 1 percent of women held that distinction. Today, that number is 15 percent. “The divorce rate remains high in the U.S., and individuals today are less likely to remarry than they were in the past,” reports Brown.

Welcome to the Eat, Pray, Love iteration of America: E – Eat ourselves to death. P – Pray we still got it. L – Love our cats.

The marriage rate has declined for all racial and ethnic groups, but the greatest decline is among African Americans. Similarly, the education divide in marriage has grown. In the last 50 years there have been only modest changes in the percentage of women married among the college educated and the greatest declines among women without a high school diploma.

It’s ironic that the pointless lib-arts over-education that correlates with women getting married also correlates with them staying childless. Meanwhile, Clevon and Anfernee pop out ten parasites by their single mom weekday flings. What was the whole point of marriage, again? To encourage and sanctify responsible procreation and child-rearing, right? No, no, how silly of me. Times have changed. Marriage is now all about celebrating multiple forms of love, like butthex and cuckold fetishism and, coming soon to a Detroit near you, polygamy.

Was Idiocracy just about the most prescient movie ever made?

None of this depressing news should be any surprise to regular guests of Le Chateau. We were the first to make the connection between the social rot and the Six Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse, and we will be the first to rub it in the faces of the lords of lies when this whole shit show comes perilously close to oozing in on their guarded gated communities.

In silver lining news, casual, no strings attached sex with smart, sassy white chicks has never been easier to get.

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Orwell, Updated

Male is female. Observation is illusion. Diversity is strength.

If there is hope, wrote Winston, it lies in the proles.

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“Back To Europe” Movement

A smattering of far-sighted readers across the blogoglobe have impertinently suggested the possibility that as America the Disparate breaks apart socially, economically and perhaps even geographically, (a near-certain conclusion given present realities), a “Back to Europe” movement will arise in corners of the stressed population as a means of escaping the spiraling dystopia.

The thought of returning to an ancestral homeland is enticing. It’s been the enlivening cri de coeur of at least one major world religion. If you, as I do, subscribe to the notion that humans evolve in step with their environment, and that this co-evolution of culture, ecology and biology plucks deep, primal rhythms in the heart when the three are aligned in accord with their historical partnership, then it’s not a strange proposition that returning to Europe, the authentic homeland of diaspora whites, might speak to many Americans in the same yearning, nostalgic way that returning to visit the neighborhood and the home in which you spent your formative years produces powerful undertows of wistful longing.

This is the stuff of wild fantasy, but if the bottom falls out from under America it’s not at all inconceivable that millions of internally dispossessed Americans will cast an eye to a long-lost brother across the sea, in hopes of beginning anew what was so recklessly and stupidly squandered here. No one should expect a “B2E” movement to happen overnight; but we live in an accelerated age, and big change, say along a timeline of decades rather than centuries, is capable of sneaking up on you.

Obviously, difficulties in a Back to Europe de-colonization scenario present. Outlined below are a few of the biggest hurdles.

– The narcissism of small differences factor. Would the Europeans want us? Europe is already densely populated, much more so than most of the US, and the addition of 50 million Americans won’t alleviate that. Many continental Europeans don’t even much care for Americans, and view them as a distinct white ethnicity, loud, boisterous, ill-kempt, fat (guilty as charged) and uncouth, like the Dutch might view the Greeks. It would take a lot of convincing to get Europeans to agree to allow mass white American immigration, but if their native birth rates remain as low as they are now (Germany is at something like 1.2 TFR) then they may not have a choice but to welcome their wandering cousins back to the fold.

– The Mad Max factor. Would Americans be willing to leave their military and weapons industry unattended? Can you imagine the US nuclear arsenal in the hands of the left side of the bell curve? *shudder* And the good bet is that the left-behinds will be disproportionately left-curvers, as only the smart will have the foresight to know ahead of time to jump a sinking ship. (This last point is debatable.)

– The mutt factor. The founding stock of America is a mix of predominantly German, English, Dutch and Scandinavian ancestry. Irish, Italian and Polish added their bloodlines to the founding stock in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Since then, it’s been all downhill, but the essential biological nature of white America is largely unchanged: Most white Americans are some mix of the above European ethnicities. So where does a Euro-mutt American resettle in Europe? Germany? England? Italy? It’s not an easy question, as the theory of mind that evolution informs suggests that a Euro-mutt will feel ancient pulls toward each of his ancestral homelands. You might, for instance, feel equally benevolent toward the stoicism of Swedes and the lustiness of Italians, or equally comfortable in the mountainous Alps as in the steppes of Ukraine.

– The leftoid factor. Contrary to assumption, I think most B2Eers will be of the liberal persuasion. As Haidt has documented, conservatives possess a stronger moral emphasis on loyalty. It’s conservatives who will stick it out in America till the bitter end, loyal to the last. Liberals will cut and run as soon as their pasty, plush asses are threatened by real discomfort. Plus, Europe has always held more appeal to liberals, who nurse the idea that the continent is filled with sophisticates. To the liberal, escape to Europe is like a hipster backpacker’s dream writ large. Of course, liberals will rationalize their escape as being something like “getting away from those degenerate rednecks ruining America”, but by that time most of us will know the real reason, and it won’t be a secret carefully warehoused by a dying MSM anymore.

– The betrayal factor. To return to Europe is to dance on the graves of the Founding Fathers. It’s to say, “Sorry, old chaps, you bequeathed your posterity a great enterprise, and we made a hash of it. All that revolution for nothing.” Many Americans will have a hard time overcoming this emotional obstacle. Not a few Euros will probably rub it in our faces.

– The culture clash factor. 350+ years is enough time for a distinct American culture to flourish. It’s perhaps enough time for a distinct American genome to flourish as well. Plopping Americans into Europe could create a strain that, coupled with the dysgenic Muslim elements of European society, can’t be managed. But this is pure speculation. It’s just as likely that Americans, once safely in the womb of Mother Europe, will revert to their ancestral pre-American norms and imbibe the best of Europe’s culture while jettisoning the worst of America’s.

– The climate factor. Can America’s white Southroners, acclimated to their subtropical heat and humidity, take to the dryness and cold of continental Europe or the chill winds of the Scottish Highlands? If their genes haven’t changed too much, they can. White Northerners should have no trouble settling anywhere in Europe.

All told, the Back to Europe scenario is less likely than a Retreat to Canada or Trek to Australia scenario. Canada is closer and more simpatico (speak the same language) to American sensibilities, while Australians share Americans’ zest for life and genial brusqueness. If climate warming proceeds as predicted, Canada will become exceedingly friendly as a relocation spot (Australia less so). Regrettably, South Africa is a lost cause, and Russians have too much spooky Siberian blood in them to find enough common ground with Americans as next door neighbors.

For the single American man, the choice of relocation destination in Europe will depend on the beauty of the native women. At the risk of opening the floor to furious but unenlightening debate, all of the East European countries would rank high, along with Italy and France, followed by Sweden and Finland. But don’t stress about it. You’re going to Europe; woman-wise you really can’t go wrong since most of the world’s beauties hail from the land of the ice and snow where Cro-Magnons made inspired interspecies love with large-eyed Neanderthals.

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The End Game Of Manboobery

Some days you read stuff that makes you think the entire internet is a put-on. A multi-sourced, wirelessly streamed, infectiously emanant theater of absurdity and manipulative schlock, the sole purpose of which is to entertain chuckling elites proud of their Trilateral Council Trollery. This would be the charitable interpretation. Regrettably, souls so blackened with disease that parody would hardly suffice to capture their wretchedness effloresce on the eunuch enabler echo chamber known as the world wide weirdness.

They squawk among us!

The latest specimen of Manboob Totality demonstrates the logical conclusion of the ideology of masochistic, morality whoring, self-annihilation. This is the leprotic gollum that emerges from the bowels of loserdom when the animating impulse to gratifying powerlessness is left unchecked. Behold… the male thing who believes “penis-in-vagina” sex is evil misogyny.

PIV, or penis-in-vagina sex is something that may seem inconsequential to most people, but is absolutely not.

Most people who’d reject the relevance of sex in politics haven’t really understood the concept – especially men.

So this is going to be an article, by a man, for men(and womyn) who find PIV sex to be inconsequential to feminism.

Firstly, understand the concept of female risk(I’ll talk about condoms later) – the fact that PIV is dangerous to women – the fact that it can even kill them. Pregnancy is the main problem, with all kinds of STDs being the side dishes. Now, there’s very little risk for men as compared – it can all but ruin their lives. Now, considering the risk, the patriarchy has created several tools to reduce the dispensibility of womyn – condoms, the pill, and all kinds of fucked up shit. Now take that, and consider the fact that men all over the world just lurve PIV(womyn – would you have PIV if the risks were on the men’s side, if they had to take the pill, if they had to face the consequences of rape? If you’re not as apathetic as most people, the answer should be no).

How many parents are driven to thoughts of suicide by witnessing their children flame out so badly at life?

By the way, as any womon will tell you, PIV doesn’t really feel that good. Most womyn don’t even orgasm with it. But I’m not your bloody sex-coach, go google that rubbish.

“womon” 😆 What, “womyn” wasn’t obsequious enough for it?

Let’s take an example of your average Joe – you’re a straight white guy, horny, love to have sex with womyn. Now, take the womyn in your life, and give them one property – they will NOT let you have PIV-centric sex with them. Does your value for womyn drop? By how much? Why? What’s so important about your right to shove your dick into womyn that lowers your value for them?

Why is it that risking their lives for your pleasure is so damn important? Should the fact that they are human beings who value your existence be enough? But nooo… sex is responsible for fucking god-knows how many ruined marriages, so much drama, I can’t even begin.

Tori Amos on a weepy rape-reminiscing bender would laugh at this dork.

See – that’s where privilege comes in. A man’s privilege to a womon’s genitals, and consequently, her life. Owning a womon.

It’s amusing the mental contortions incels will go through to rationalize their sexual isolation.

Men need to value womyn as HUMAN BEINGS, not as fuck-holes that tell them how great they are.

“A jock gave me an atomic wedgie, and sadly, I didn’t feel a thing down there on account of my very tiny penis and undescended testes.”

I hope that knocked some sense into someone out there.

It was certainly revealing.

PPS – Yes, I’m a “virgin.” Now piss off.

That’s surprising.

Did things like this exist in 1950s America? Yes. You’d have found them in mental institutions, unable to communicate with anyone but a padded wall. It’s time for overly harm-sensitive liberals to accept the reality that the icy wastelands serve a valuable function as a culling ground for the irredeemable refuse of humanity.

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