Exporting Democracy, Importing Socialism

As I write the House is on the verge of passing a bill that will socialize 1/5th of the US economy. The red swollen teat engorged with milk, the populace, its current protestations to the contrary notwithstanding, will eventually acclimate to the suckling and prove to be impossible to dislodge in the future. The Democrats know this, which is why they are willing to sacrifice near term power in next November’s midterms for long range power over the functioning of greater and greater swaths of American private enterprise.

Count today as the final nail in the coffin of American exceptionalism.

If an alien race ill-disposed to America were to devise a plan to bring the US to her knees as quickly, efficiently, and bloodlessly as possible (so as not to arouse a mighty backlash of patriotic fervor, i.e. survival instinct) they could do no better than what we have done to ourselves over the past 50 years. A plan to drain the nation’s coffers and psyche — not to mention the good will of her allies — with half-cocked schemes to export democracy to shitholes around the world that are constitutionally incapable or unwilling to embrace democracy, coupled with a zeal for importing vast numbers of ethnically (and genetically) antagonistic and listless peasant stock who will vote 2 to 1, generation after generation regardless of the desperate political pandering to staunch it, for socialist politicians and the concomitant racial grievance spoils machine whose gears never stop thirsting for the slick blood of the hated enemy, would break the back of the nation’s people insidiously, cracking each vertebrae in the middle of the night with hairline fractures designed to avoid sudden jolts of pain. Numb any immunological reaction with the soul poison of feminism, enervating porn pills, mollifying technogadget distractions, and a PC shaming mechanism psyche-out that would make Orwell blush, and you have a perfect recipe for destroying a world-bestriding superpower in less than half a century without firing a single shot.

I don’t believe the Americans In Name Only who bought into this plan are stupid. No. It’s much worse than that. They are venal.

I am wishing for the day to come when the traitors swing from the lamp posts. Swing high sweet Benedicts.

Friedman, liberdroids, NYBTimes, RINOs, SWPLs, and the rest of you goddamned filthy fucks… never forget:

Proximity + diversity = war.

So it is written in the blood of humanity, then, now and forevermore.

Amen.

Afterthought. Since I’m in a magnanimous mood today, I will impart my tremendous wisdom to those who still harbor dark thoughts of saving their country from the clutches of obsolescence or, worse, civil war II. Here it is:

Take a page from the pickup artist’s manual. Stop playing by the enemy’s rules. Reframe, reframe, reframe.

Examples upon request.

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When Elites Self-Destruct

When I first read this news story, I doubted its authenticity. It reads like something Snopes.com would later discredit. But I looked around and the story is repeated in multiple media outfits.

Transsexual performer vomits on Susan Sarandon

Oscar winning actress Susan Sarandon has had a bad time of it lately. The actress recently separated from her long time partner, actor Tim Robbins. Sarandon attended the third anniversary of The Box in New York’s Lower East Side.

A transsexual cabaret performer named Rose Wood engaged in projectile vomiting on stage and hit Sarandon with it .

Standing nearby were Scarlett Johansson and Liev Schreiber.

According to Wood it was not intended as an affront to the actress and she didn’t take it that way.

“Apparently [Sarandon] got a big kick out of it. She squealed with surprise and loved it when several handsome gentlemen wiped it off of her. She had a ball! I saw her assistant downstairs afterward, and he was moved by it! She was in great spirits,” Wood told the New York Press.

Wood explains that vomiting on people is fitting is this establishment. “[It was a] fitting time for an outrageous act: the third anniversary of The Box. Everybody wants to offer safe and ordinary, not The Box!”

Was the vomit fake? The news outlets reporting on this story didn’t mention anything about the vomit being fake, so it looks as if an actual stream of hot, chunky puke hit Sarandon. If she was sitting down in the first rows, it is likely the projectile vomit splattered her upper body and face. Where does getting vomited on rank compared to other incredibly disgusting affronts to one’s dignity? Leaving aside for purposes of this discussion the creatively exotic ways in which the tortures of the damned might be executed (e.g., feeding severed genitalia to the writhing victim), I have ranked in descending order the top three most disgusting things that could happen to a person.

A tranny crapping on you. (Bonus points if face is the bulls-eye.)
A tranny projectile vomiting on you. (Again, bonus points for face.)
A tranny — assuming he/she still has a dick — jizzing on you. (Despite the terabytes of pornographic evidence to the contrary, I’d imagine that, like Clarice Starling, most women would not appreciate receiving an unwanted hot load to the face by a complete stranger, whether or not that stranger was doing “art” on stage. If we were to restrict our ranking to straight men, I’d place jizz in face above vomit in face, but just slightly below crap in face. If the crap was small, hard, and pellet-like, I think most men would even take that over jizz in the face. I once saw a porno clip of two guys on one girl and one of the dudes accidentally jizzed into the other dude’s face as that dude was kissing the girl. The reaction of the jizzed-upon dude was priceless. He jumped back instantaneously and retched, swinging his arms around blindly for a towel to wipe off on. I bet his nightmares will haunt his sleep for years.)

Was Sarandon auditioning for “two old leftie hags, one cup”? And what the hell was Scarlett Johansson doing there? Did she partake of the pukage? I’ve gotta say, nothing can desexify a hot babe faster than a little dribble of puke falling down her cheek, like a sad, gross tear.

This story has so much win it’s hard to know where to begin. First of all, it happened to Susan Sarandon. This is better than if it happened to Bono, although not as good as if it happened to Katie Couric. Secondly, the melding of elitist status posturing with the fraud that is modern “art” is perfectly symbolized in the caulking of the latter’s vomitus to the former’s face. This is meta-art that illuminates far more than the actual art.

Idiocracy isn’t confined to the plebes and riff raff. A counterpart idiocracy is simultaneously at work degrading the elite. A sure sign of a culture’s death rattle is its elite abandoning all pretense of taste and class in a vain effort to prop a barrier between themselves and the hoi polloi. The fraud that is modern art has served this function well for the past 50 or 60 years, but it is finally reaching its inevitable resolution, as it always would, devolving into a repulsive farce that says more about professed elite admiration for it than about the art itself. At one time, there was piss christ, which the elites could happily use as a club to bludgeon the unsophisticated into submissive apologia. But pretty (and not so pretty) lies are like ravenous beasts that must continually feed until ultimately they turn on their advocates. (See: Any multicultural society’s paeans to diversity.) And so we have the scorching parody of an elitist like Susan Sarandon suffering a stream of projectile vomit from the beast she helped breathe to life, and then being forced by a combination of circumstance and cognitive dissonance to betray her own disgust reflex at the altar of lifestyle liberalism.

Susan Sarandon’s defiled face and subsequent feint of enjoyment and poseurism is a symbol of the late Caesarean implosion of our putative overclass. Tim Robbins’ dumping her must have hit her hard. (Another high status man dumps aging wife! News at 11.) The “several handsome gentlemen wiped it off of her” line is telling. Rose Wood knows what a wrinkled, sexually worthless woman wants to hear. On the other end of the social spectrum, People of Walmart race to the bottom free of any need or desire to ape the habits of their betters. And who could blame them when their betters are the likes of Sarandon, vomiting trannies, and enabling art critics and media mavens? All the while, the rapidly shrinking sane middle is beaten like a pinata by an unholy alliance of the hermetically warped elites and the wretched bottom dwellers, of which such end-gameplaying is sure to have deadly serious consequences.

Here is the truth of the incident. You, Susan Sarandon, got puked on by a freak degenerate performing nothing remotely resembling art except in the fevered imaginations of bathhouse Baudelaires and serial killers. It wasn’t cutely “outrageous” and it wasn’t conceptually deep that only you and your inner circle of pretend snobs could recognize its artistic merit. And those “handsome gentlemen” in attendance took pity on you, the kind of unwelcome, soul withering pity reserved for the losers and the lost. Of which you are now one.

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The Medicalization Of Maleness

Reading the funny articles about Tiger Woods’ romp through a battalion of trashy, deluded babes who thought they would be the next Mrs. Woods, I noticed a theme emerge.

David Smallwood, who has treated a host of celebrities at north London’s Priory clinic, said: “He displays a number of the pointers such as seeking highs from outdoor sex and having many mistresses.

“I would implore him to get help. But I see him as ill, not bad.”

***

“People who have affairs typically do so because something is lacking,” says psychotherapist Stacy Kaiser. “You can be the world’s best golfer, role model and endorsement spokesman and still not feel good inside.”

When that happens, she says, a man tends to “fill that hole with women as a distraction and an escape.”

The opinion of the experts and sexperts is in: If you are a man who is able to satisfy his natural sexual inclination for a variety of women, you have a problem. A big problem, my friend, and you should seek therapy right away to cure yourself of your affliction.

As a valiant avatar of the ugly truths, I’m here to tell the collected wisdom of the armies of psychotherapists swinging their degrees like battle axes: Tiger Woods does not have a problem. What he has is a male sex drive, and a willingness to fulfull it. In so doing, he makes you confront your worst fears about the base instincts of humanity unleashed in glorious wanton hedonism. You shirk not because of what Tiger does, but because you tremble before your fear of what most men would do given the opportunities available to a man with Woods’ high social and material status.

Tiger Woods may not be a model citizen, but neither does he have an emotional or psychological problem. He’s just a man with a strong sex drive who got bored with the same old pussy day in and day out and decided to spice it up with a willing brigade of slutty concubines all too ready to dismiss their own feelings of complicity in the sordid arrangements that will now cost Woods hundreds of millions of dollars. If Woods has a problem, it’s that he got married. Big mistake, chief.

How many typical married men would act like Woods if suddenly blessed with his fame and fortune? Imbue 100 Joe Sixpacks with Woods’ high status, and 99 would run roughshod on their marital vows. Over and over. Gleefully. Guiltlessly. Until they got caught.

I would ask the experts in the human condition: Do Woods’ mistresses have a problem that must be addressed by months of therapy? If not, why not? Aren’t they just as happily and guiltlessly following their own biomechanical directive in hypergamously hooking up with a wealthy uber alpha who happens to be married? How many typical housewives would act like Woods’ skank parade if suddenly blessed with Woods’ attention and desire? Impart 100 Jill Saddlebags with Woods’ sexual flirtations, and 99 would run roughshod on their marital vows. Over and over. Guiltlessly. Orgasmically. And even after they got caught, because they know in the event of divorce they are not going to be the ones coming up short.

We live in a culture where today the natural male sex drive is demonized and the natural female sex drive is glorified. It is an interesting shift of the paradigm, and one I suspect is unsustainable for a modern, first world economy that rests on certain implicit assumptions about how its citizens are to comport themselves if the good of the whole is to thrive. (Nevermind my antics; While good for me, I’m not one to bow before the concept of the good of the whole. I’ll just freeride until I wind up in the same place as all those properly behaved subjects of the industrial kingdom.)

The adamantium foundation of core values that buttresses all other values is the sexual market. The constant flux of sexual energy between men and women is the force multiplier that breathes life into cultures, and infuses societies with everything from salsa to skyscrapers. When you fuck with the workings of that origin value you fuck with everything resting on top of it, ten times over. This is why late 20th century feminism has been such a boon for the haters of beauty and a weapon for the bringers of doom. Given the inherent lag effect in any large scale human value shift, I expect the fruit of our current culture of lies to ripen fully within our lifetimes.

As I see it, a culture can grapple with the reality of the sexual market and its consequences in one of four ways:

I. Shame/demonize/medicalize the male sex drive. Condone/laud/glorify the female sex drive.

II. Shame the male sex drive. Shame the female sex drive.

III. Glorify the male sex drive. Shame the female sex drive.

IV. Glorify the male sex drive. Glorify the female sex drive.

2010 America is currently knee deep in paradigm number I. 1950s America, according to our best sources (the ones who lived through it) was operating under cultural condition number II, with nods and winks toward number III. Speaking of number III, this seems to be the arrangement most prevalent in the Arab cultures. Number IV is the historically rarest configuration, and is seen most often in pagan cultures like Scandinavia and underdeveloped tribal nations like the swath across much of subsaharan Africa. Number IV is emergent in either highly anarchic societies or in highly homogenized societies of small, manageable population sizes.

America has chosen number I, which is probably the worst option to choose for a mature economic powerhouse rapidly morphing into a trifurcated multicultural and multiethnic population of immense size. This is the option that will send most men into either withdrawal or violence, and most women into hypergamous overdrive. No modern economy, built as they almost invariably all are on the sweat of men with an eye toward saving and investing in the future, can survive a long bout with a value system resting squarely in number I and constantly propped up by the likes of elite opinion makers and Oprah.

Personally, I live by construct number IV, as it is the value system that most pleases me, and is likeliest to persuade women to shed their inhibitions in my company. A master seducer at the height of his game will be living his life by the precepts of number IV, whether or not he argues for the abolition on a wider scale of the paradigm that so suits him in his personal quests.

My prediction for the future is that number I eventually will yield, softly or cataclysmically, to number II, with a short temporary stint in number IV. Number IV is really the wildcard here. While number I works its magic slowly and insidiously, number IV has the explosive power to radically alter the cultural landscape in a very short period of time, especially in a culture historically insulated from the hedonistic ravages of number IV.

I think it would be funny if our culture were one where male gigolos are forgiven and invited onto talk shows and cheating wives are forced to cough up half their assets and income, lose custody of their children, and be shamed from polite society. Sounds punitive, doesn’t it? Well, that’s what we have today. Just reverse the genders.

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The Look Of Confidence

Here is a photo taken in August 1939.

I found it on this excellent site which showcases very old photographs. The description of the photo reads: “Unemployed lumber worker goes with his wife to the bean harvest. Note Social Security number tattooed on his arm.”

Despite this man’s pauper clothes (there was little peacocking during the Great Depression), his jobless status, his search for employment or food at a bean harvest, and his home made out of canvas, he wears the confident smirk and mischievous gaze of an alpha male. What does he have to be happy about? Oh, his attractive wife. And by 1939 standards she is a real hottie.

Shouldn’t he feel ashamed to be dragging her to a bean harvest? Most modern men couldn’t imagine taking their wives or girlfriends on a bean harvest date. It would be a massive DLV. Not only that, but he’s obviously proud of the Social Security number tattooed on his arm. This is one step above waving your food stamps in the air like a certificate of accomplishment. What could be more beta than tattooing the government’s ownage of you on your arm?

Self-satisfaction will see a man through all sorts of tribulations. Radiating confidence, deserved or irrational, is what is most attractive to women. This man looks confident, and his wife stands by him. She has the mousy, hunched over posture of a woman in love. All else that’s objectively negative about him fades to insignificance in the matter of what stirs her heart. In glaring contrast, today we have the spectacle of wives divorcing their dutiful husbands (70% divorces initiated by women) for the sin of catering to her every whim by being “economic partners, lovers, …co-parents and best friends. [A]lso each other’s co-workers, editors and primary readers.”

I have a new system for learning inner game — I call it bean harvest game. This is where you take a woman on a really shitty date, let’s say to a soup kitchen to pick up your rations for the week, and refuse to act apologetic or ashamed of your anti-signaling station in life. Instead, you carry your unemployment and poor taste with the confidence of a master of the universe. Handicapping yourself this way means you have no crutch to close the deal. Everything desirable about you must flow from your internal state. If this doesn’t sharpen your inner game and hone your ability to reframe, nothing will. Expect to be amazed how many women will still sleep with you after running tight bean harvest game on them.

Addendum: I find this picture oddly sensual. I’ve never wanted to bone a woman from the pre-airbrushing era so badly.

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Everything Wrong With America In One Picture

When historians ponder the fall of the Roman Empire, they point to the multicultural Germanicization of the legions and the outsourcing of military affairs to barbarian mercenaries. When they reflect on the causes of Mayan collapse, deforestation is fingered as the culprit. When future revolutionary historians on the fringes of polite society offer reasons for the implosion of the American Empire (coming *very* soon to a booming multiplex theater near you), they will hold up this photo. And heads will nod in unison. Mutterings will be heard: “We saw it coming.”

What’s wrong with this picture? Let us count the ways. I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume the hairdresser is swisherrific. I mean, just look at that belt buckle. Would we be able to win WWII if we had to fight it over again with the current crop of American men? Or would we chastise the fearful warmongering Americans for antagonizing the millions of moderate Nazis? Phony umbrage and secular piousness are the cheap and easy virtues of a soulsucked people. So easy, you can do it too! I’ll get you started. “Xenophobe!” Congrats, you’re now better than Jesus.

The assistant has a foreign name. East European. She has that cute, scrunchy apple face so sexually arousing in the Slavic women, but unfortunately her Old World charms will be lost in a matter of weeks, due to exposure to the froo-frooiest of American culture from working in a hair salon that caters to a dying breed. (And I’m not referring to the dog.) I do not envy her boyfriend who will wake up one morning to the realization that his beloved has become fully Americanized. Home cooked dinners and surprise blowjobs will be nothing but a sweet memory.

When a free nation is invaded by a foreign force wthout lifting a single weapon to defend itself, when it puts itself in hock to a Communist overlord, when it has 152 varieties of color protecting conditioner on its store shelves, the doomsday clock has moved a minute closer to the midnight hour.

Then there’s the woman getting the queen bee treatment. Yenta! It’s not just an electric car. Her smile may be a mile wide, but her eyes betray infinite sadness. By the way she is smothering her dog with affection I safely assume she is childless.

And of course, the dog, a term I use loosely to describe the shitting Roomba sitting on her lap. Is that a flower tucked in its head fur? No wonder the dog’s face says “Shoot me please.” Normal dogs are not coddled and pampered like substitute children. A normal dog’s face says “Bacon? Bacooooon!!”

Examine this picture. You should feel a foreboding deep in your gut. You won’t know why exactly, but it’s there. Best not think too long about it, there’s another mp3 to download.

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Meet The Real Biggest Losers

Cuckolded men. A lot of readers emailed me this New York Beta Times story about the State of Paternity in America today. Before reading, you should grab your Pepto Bismol, because your stomach is going to turn. Get ready to descend into the hell matrix of the unwitting beta male raising another man’s child, where torments beyond your most chilling nightmares await.

The revelation from a DNA test was devastating and prompted him to leave his wife — but he had not renounced their child. He continued to feel that in all the ways that mattered, she was still his daughter, and he faithfully paid her child support. It was only when he learned that his ex-wife was about to marry the man who she said actually was the girl’s biological father that Mike flipped. Supporting another man’s child suddenly became unbearable.Two years after filing the suit that sought to end his paternal rights, Mike is still irate about the fix he’s in. “I pay child support to a biologically intact family,” Mike told me, his voice cracking with incredulity. “A father and mother, married, who live with their own child. And I pay support for that child. How ridiculous is that?”

Ridiculous is one way to put it. Evil is another.

Tanner Pruitt, who owns a small manufacturing business in Texas, paid child support for seven years after divorcing his wife. His daughter never looked like him, but it wasn’t until she was 12 that it began to bother him. He told the girl he wanted to check something in her mouth, quickly swabbed some cheek cells and sent the samples off to a lab. After the DNA test showed they weren’t related, he contacted a lawyer, figuring the lab results would release him from child-support payments and justify reimbursement from the biological father. But the lawyer told Pruitt his only option was to take the matter to court and that doing so might mean giving up his right to see the girl at all. It might also alert her to the truth. Pruitt didn’t want to chance either possibility, so he stayed silent and kept paying.“I spent thousands and thousands of dollars, and it hasn’t cost that biological father a penny, and yeah, I’m angry, but it would have been more harm to her psychologically than it was worth,” says Pruitt, who eventually fought for, and won, full custody.

This is why I support mandatory paternity testing (MPT) at birth. MPT would completely negate the risk of having to choose between loyalty to a child to whom the father has already bonded, and walking away to leave the child to the whore mother to raise. It’s a simple procedure that would intrude on no one’s rights or emotional well-being, similar to how the state requires driver’s tests for people who want the privilege of driving. By making it mandatory, all issues of trust are rendered moot. If it’s discovered the child isn’t his, the father is legally absolved of any further paternal or marital obligations, and is welcome to exit the marriage without having to pay one red cent to the bitch.

Any woman who even utters a peep against MPT has shown her cards. She is a filthy wretched cuntrag who wishes the system to be rigged in her favor — morality, fairness, and justice be damned. (hi anony!)

Some may question whether MPT is good for society, inasmuch as it dysgenically removes the option for women to carry the species forward by duping betas into raising and propagating alpha genes. This concern rests on a key assumption — that cheating women are making the eugenically correct choice. My suspicion, based on what I’ve heard about unfaithful whores, is that they are not. They are, instead, fucking around with assorted badboys.

Mike’s first inkling that something was amiss in his marriage was in 2000, when he was digging through a closet looking for the source of some mice. He didn’t find any nests, but he did come upon a plastic grocery bag of love letters to his wife, Stephanie, from her co-worker Rob. Confronted, Stephanie confessed to a fleeting affair but assured Mike that L., then nearly 3, was his.

If you recorded the answers of one million cheating whores at the moment when their doubting husbands questioned them about the paternity of their kids, only one woman would tell the truth to the man she married “till death do us part”. The other 999,999 women would lie. This is the juggernaut of female depravity you are up against, men. Never forget that.

CARNELL SMITH, an engineer-turned-lobbyist in Georgia, is the leading advocate for men like Mike. In 2001, after Smith’s own paternity struggle, he formed U.S. Citizens Against Paternity Fraud, to help the men he calls “duped dads.” In his most notable success, Smith persuaded Georgia lawmakers to rescind nonbiological fathers’ financial obligations, no matter the child’s age or how close the relationship. Smith then became the first man to disestablish paternity under that law.

Carnell Smith is a goddamned American hero. Step up to the Chateau gates, Carnell, you have more than earned your place at the table among the “King of the Alphas” greats.

With the scientific proof in hand, men like Carnell Smith began fighting back. A few months after Smith split up with his girlfriend in 1988, she announced she was pregnant with his child. Believing her, he signed a paternity acknowledgment for their daughter, Chandria.

Maxim #666: When a woman has incentive to lie, she will choose lying over honesty EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Corollary to Maxim #666: Treat woman like Soviet Russia — Trust but verify.

He obtained joint custody, paid her support and spent virtually every weekend with his little girl. When Chandria was 11, her mother sued to increase support. Smith decided to be tested, and the results excluded him as the father. In a lawsuit, Smith demanded Chandria’s mother pay back the $40,000 he had laid out in what he calls “involuntary servitude” and fraud. The court ruled against Smith, concluding that he had known that his former girlfriend had other partners at the end of their relationship and should have realized he might not be the father. By not exercising his “due diligence” and getting a DNA test early on, the court put the burden on Smith for not unearthing the truth sooner.

Did you get that? The court basically said to Smith “Hey, your fault for believing your girlfriend’s lies. What did you expect? She’s a woman. Women lie! So keep paying, bitchboy.”

If you are an American male, know this: Your women aren’t on your side. Your government isn’t on your side. Your law isn’t on your side. Your culture isn’t on your side. You are expendable. Your use is as cannon fodder for pointless wars, cannon fathers for bastard children, and cannon dollars for whoring sluts.

Would you die for this country that so despises you? Would you care if women who aren’t related to you or fucking you got raped? Would you care if *any* woman got raped? Orwell had it half right — a boot stamping on a beta face and high heels grinding into a beta crotch – forever.

Chandria now attends college in Georgia. She has seen Carnell Smith on the local news and on the Internet and cannot reconcile the man who seems to her so insensitive with the father she knew: attentive, seemingly proud of their relationship and eager to spend time with her. “He was what a father was supposed to be,” she says, “but when things changed, he completely disconnected. That’s just not fair. You’ve been in my life my entire life and for you to just cut that off for money, well, that’s not fair to anybody.”

Carnell Smith, if I ever meet you, beer’s on me. And I don’t buy beers for just anyone.

Chandria, if you think it’s not fair, you have but one person to point your accusing finger at — your whore mother.

For the rest of you rationalizers who think that Chandria’s bitter tears prove that rectifying paternity fraud should take a back seat to the welfare of the child, kindly redirect your effrontery at the perp who deserves it — the cheating woman. If the child suffers, the unfaithful mother should have thought of that before spreading for the thug du jour.

Child-welfare advocates say that making biology the sole determinant of paternity in cases like Smith’s puts the nonbiological father’s interest above the child’s.

You don’t say! And all this time I thought eighteen years of financial and psychological enslavement was in the nonbiological father’s interest.

Besides, society has increasingly recognized that parenthood is not necessarily bound to genetics.

Society is an ass.

“Having been involved in cases like these, I think the answer to ‘Is it my kid?’ is irrationally important to the cuckolded husband,” says Carol McCarthy, an officer of the Pennsylvania chapter of the American Academy of Matrimonial Lawyers. “My own biases are going into this because I’m adopted, so I’m real into ‘your parents are the people who raise you.’ I couldn’t care less who my biological parents are. My parents are the ones who went through all the crap I gave them growing up.”

And people wonder why I have so much hatred in my heart for sophistic bitch lawyers. (hi al!)

Let’s rephrase Mizz Carol McCarthy’s quote for clarity:

“Having been involved in cases like these, I think the answer to ‘Is it my kid?’ is irrationally important to the falsely impregnated wife,” says Carol McCarthy, an officer of the Pennsylvania chapter of the American Academy of Patrimonial Lawyers. “My own biases are going into this because my mother who unknowingly had another woman’s fertilized egg implanted in her womb went through with the pregnancy, so I’m real into ‘your parents are the people who raise you.’ I couldn’t care less who my biological parents are. My parents are the ones who went through all the crap I gave them growing up.”

There, that should uncloud Mizz McCarthy’s mind. PS Please put your head under a rolling bus.

WHY IS IT THAT we imbue genetic relationships with a potency that borders on magic?

It’s funny when smart people ask these kinds of questions as if they don’t already know the answer. It’s as if in the asking they absolve themselves of the guilt they feel for following the same amoral code that is followed by the proles and untouchables to whom they feel superior.

It doesn’t need to be answered, but I’ll answer it anyway, coyly: The reason we humans have evolved to be capable of wondering why we imbue genetic relationships with potency is because genetic relationships have potency.

Three and a half years earlier, at a federally convened symposium on the increase in paternity questions, a roomful of child-welfare researchers, legal experts, academics and government administrators agreed that much pain could be avoided if paternity was accurately established in a baby’s first days. Several suggested that DNA paternity tests should be routine at birth, or at least before every paternity acknowledgment is signed and every default order entered. In 2001 the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court urged the state to require that putative fathers submit to genetic testing before signing a paternity-acknowledgment form or child-support agreement, arguing that “to do otherwise places at risk the well-being of children.”

In other words, the same care that hospitals take ensuring that the right mother is connected to the right newborn — footprints, matching ID bands, guarded nurseries, surveillance cameras — should be taken to verify that the right man is deemed father.

Good to see the CH worldview is being considered. It’s easy to be right when you hold firm to your conviction that the truth, no matter how dispiriting, is your guiding principle. For in the end, the truth always wins out —
one
way
or
the
other.

Mandatory DNA testing for everyone would be a radical, not to mention costly, shift in policy.

So was WWII. But we fought to the end. The bottom line is this: Either men have equal rights to women under the law, or they do not. As it stands right now, the courts are deciding in favor of men as being lesser citizens than women.

In other news, Barack Obama’s health care plan would ensure government coverage of mammograms for all women over the age of 40. No word on coverage for men’s prostate exams.

“I got a picture in my head,” L. [the bastard daughter] said, “that the test people would call and say they had been wrong, that he really was my biological dad and that everything I had thought before never really happened.”

Fury and unconsolable sadness
she anguishes
pain is her fate
blame needing to be cast
she searches haphazardly
when her demon
stands right before her
hi mom.

Think of the worst things women can do to men. Draw up a list. I’ll start:

Flirt with other men in front of him.
Steal from him.
Cheat on him.
Give him an STD.
Entrap him with pregnancy.
Withhold sex for favors.
Prick holes in his condoms.
Dick sandwich.
Get fat.
Disrespect his privacy and gossip about him.
Falsely accuse him of rape.
Use the rigged divorce courts against him.
Cut him off from his children.
Cuckhold him.

Of all these monstrous expressions of the female id, one rises above the rest in sheer malevolence — the act of cuckolding. Nothing else, save perhaps a successfully prosecuted false rape accusation, comes close in distilled essence of ovarian evil. Cuckoldry is slavery. It is metadeath. It is soul murder. It is the motherfucker of all lies. As men, we are beholden to guard against it by any means necessary. Today, in 2009 America, that means refusing to participate in the corrupted institution of marriage and hiding your assets overseas.

Here are the faces of society’s ultimate losers:

If beta has a “look”, these men have it.

Carnell Smith is the man in the third photo. He is a genuine American hero; a warrior fighting the long hard battle for our benefit. Send him a note of appreciation and support. A nation is saved one righteous man at a time.

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A Tale Of Two Loyalties

Obama after the Henry Louis Gates, Jr. incident:

“The Cambridge police acted stupidly in arresting somebody when there was already proof that they were in their own home.”

Obama after Muslim fanatic Nidal Malik Hasan went on a shooting rampage at Fort Hood while shouting “Allahu Akbar“:

“We don’t know all the answers yet, and I would caution against jumping to conclusions until we have all the facts.”

Sez it all, really.

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