Another Cougar Bites The Dust

Nearly two years ago, the original Chateau host predicted that Ashton Kutcher was cheating on his cougar love, Demi:

instead of sleeping their way to the top, men commit their way to the top.

anyhow, give it time. most of these older female celebrity-younger male B lister couples are inherently unstable. i bet within five years ashton has fully severed himself from demi and hooks up with a young hottie. as opposed to hooking up with young mistresses on the sly as he is doing now.
heh heh.

It was also predicted by this very blog’s überhost that once Ashton’s cheating was discovered, Demi would put up with it in humiliating fashion because her rapidly declining sexual market value severely limited her options to get an equally high status man.

Right on cue, a chorus of cougars growled that yer humble host was wrong; that Ashton LURVED LURVED LURVED Demi and would never betray her. And just look how hot Demi is! Ashton could hardly do better. The virtual Ashton harem of aging broads reveled in bringing him up on this blog as some sort of retarded feminist proof that the older woman-younger man couple was the exception that broke the rule.

Well, the celebrity rags are reporting that Ashton Kutcher has been stepping out on Demi with a very cute and very young blonde mistress. (She’s only twenty-ooooooone….) And muckrakers are reporting that Ashton and Demi are putting up a “united front”.

HA HAAAAWW!

You have meddled with the primal forces of nature, Miss Moore, and YOU… WILL… ATONE.

You can practically hear the nation’s leading cougar pundits expire in the cold, snowy mountain crags. Maureen Dowd was found with her yellowed claws embedded in a fallen tree that resembled a Bill Clinton dildo.

If the prediction was off, it was only in overestimating the number of years it would take for Ashton to stray. Ashton couldn’t hang on for more than a couple years before his cock homed in on young, fresh, tight inelastic pussy like a divining rod.

Here is a new prediction: Demi Moore’s next lover will be lower status than Ashton Kutcher. And she will begin tweeting nude photos of herself in a desperate bid for sexual relevancy. Bruce Willis will continue banging hot young babes.

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Chicks Dig Jerks: Chimney Sweep Edition

Love is so powerful it can cause a smart person to act stupidly. So stupidly, she unintentionally kills herself.

BAKERSFIELD, Calif. — A doctor involved in an “on-again, off-again” relationship apparently tried to force her way into her boyfriend’s home by sliding down the chimney, police said Tuesday. Her decomposing body was found there three days later.

Dr. Jacquelyn Kotarac, 49, first tried to get into the house with a shovel, then climbed a ladder to the roof last Wednesday night, removed the chimney cap and slid feet first down the flue, Bakersfield police Sgt. Mary DeGeare said.

While she was trying to break in, the man she was pursuing escaped unnoticed from another exit “to avoid a confrontation,” authorities said.

DeGeare said the two were in an “on-again, off-again” relationship.

Skittles man, Bring the Movies man… meet On-again, Off-again man.

The good doctor was infatuated (and infatuation is a form of love — unidirectional love) with an older bad boy. How do we know he was a bad boy? Ye shall know the jerks by their treatment of women. “On-again, off-again” is a euphemistically pleasing way to say “he was using her for sex but she wasn’t hot or young enough for his full-blown monogamous commitment”. There are many flavors of jerk; not all of them are the stereotypical underemployed tattooed thug wannabes. The ostensible boyfriend who resided at the House of Absurd Ways to Die, 58 year old William Moodie, fled through the back door of his own home so he wouldn’t have to deal with the crazy bitch. There’s no doubt this guy was a “bring the movies” kind of caring and attentive lover. And that that’s why she chased after him so desperately.

There’s a picture of Kotarac in the embedded video to the article at 0:15 seconds in, and she is pretty decent looking for a 49 year old. For one, she hasn’t let herself go like so many aging American women who haven’t met a buffet table they didn’t raid. So her desperation was not a result of being a low value tubby omega female punching way above her (heh) weight class. Physically, she was probably a close match to him. Intellectually, as a doctor, she was likely as smart or smarter than him (Moodie runs an engineering consulting firm. Interestingly, engineering is a perceived classic beta male field, which goes to show betaness is an infection of the soul rather than an occupational condition). So on paper, it would seem there would be no reason for such a skewed relationship power dynamic to exist, “relationship exactness and complementarity” to the contrary notwithstanding. And yet it did, as she wildly chased and he ran away when she got to be too much of a pain in the ass. One is then compelled to ask, how does a man achieve this sort of power over a woman? I submit that the reasons are simple: Moodie was a master of aloof and indifferent game, and Kotarac, despite her relatively good looks for a woman her age, was depressingly aware on a subconscious level that the wall was nigh. She had found an alpha male, and she wanted him badly before the door closed forever on her sexual and romantic love options.

This episode imparts some valuable lessons. Money, social status, and material possessions are useful, but if you want complete control over your woman, BY FAR the best method for maintaining that control is to exercise push-pull game (aka careless asshole game) on a woman of fragile self-conception. Her instinctual programming will do the rest, as you quickly find yourself being pursued with an amorous gusto normally experienced only by very hot babes in the prime of their procreative lives. Older men with game and very famous and/or vastly wealthy men might be the closest men get to knowing what it feels like to live as a 22 year old beautiful woman.

Here’s a question: was this guy Moodie in his house the whole time she was rotting in his chimney, or did he stay somewhere else thinking it would require a few days for the Stalking Cougar to cool off and give up harassing him at his home? If the former, you have to wonder how he was able to miss the stench coming from the chimney flue. Perhaps his nose was buried in another woman’s pussy?

“She made an unbelievable error in judgment and nobody understands why, and unfortunately she’s passed away,” Moodie told The Associated Press. “She had her issues – she had her demons – but I never lost my respect for her.”

Does this guy Moodie sound like he’s broken-hearted? Nope. Sounds instead like he could do without the hassle, especially if girlfriends #2 and #3 have visiting hours while reporters are posted outside his door.

Kotarac apparently died in the chimney, but her body was not discovered until a house-sitter noticed a stench and fluids coming from the fireplace Saturday, according to a police statement. The house-sitter and her son investigated with a flashlight and found Kotarac dead, wedged about two feet above the top of the interior fireplace opening.

Santa Claus wept fluids.

Firefighters spent five hours late Saturday dismantling the chimney and flue from outside the home to extract Kotarac’s body, DeGeare said.

You’ve gotta tip your hipster newsie to the brave men who do these shitty jobs.

Executive summary:

1. Older women, including MILFs, are desperate.
2. Aloof asshole game is chick crack at any age.
3. Intelligence is no immunity from stupid decisions made under the influence of love.
4. A woman’s high status career is no leverage against the sexual status lowering effect of her getting older.
5. A woman’s high status career is worthless to men who aren’t gigolos.
6. Bitches be crazy!

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Cougars On The Prowl? No.

Demi Moore may be a beacon of light for aging cougars on the cusp of sexual worthlessness who want to crow triumphantly about all the boy toys pursuing them, but the facts are, as is usual when discussing the functioning of the dating market, quite a bit more depressing than what passes for reality in their fevered imaginations.

British psychologists said that the phenomenon of the “cougar” – older women on the prowl for younger men – does not actually exist in the real world.

They studied a number of online dating sites and found that men and women are still rather traditional when it comes to searching for their ideal partner.

Women generally seek an older and, therefore hopefully, wealthier man whereas men desire a young and attractive female, and often prefer a much younger partner as they themselves age.

The findings, published in the journal Evolution and Human Behaviour, disputes the phenomenon popularised in TV shows and movies like “Cougar Town” starring Courteney Cox and “Sex and the City” of women aged over 40 seeking “cubs”.

Many cougars have argued that since they are modern women with financial independence, they are free to pursue younger men for their looks alone. But this runs into two problems that are perfectly predicted by evolutionary psychologists; one, younger men don’t want them, and two, cougars, no matter their own economic independence, remain more attracted to older men with means, just as they did when they were younger and poorer. It seems the hindbrain which governs our sexual impulses is largely impervious to cultural shifts in mating market variables.

He said it was a commonly held assumption that with the advent of female financial independence, women were now free to target men of any age group, as securing financial security from older, wealthier males was no longer a priority.

“The transference of female desire from relatively older men to relatively younger men, it has been argued, is reflected by the growth of the toy boy phenomenon,” he said.

“The results of our research challenges these assumptions. Although there was some cultural variation in extremes, the results showed clearly that women across all age groups and cultures, targeted males either their own age or older.”

Some things never change. What about men?

Dr Dunn said a strikingly different pattern of age preferences was evident in men.

Younger men, aged 20 to 25, either targeted females their own age or marginally younger.

But as males aged, they clearly expressed a preference for women increasingly younger than themselves, with this pattern also being cross-culturally consistent.

“These findings are clearly supportive of evolutionary theory,” Dr Dunn added.

“A wide variety of evidence has shown that women, when considering a potential long-term partner, focus more than males on cues indicative of wealth and status and these logically accumulate with age.

“Males conversely focus more intently on physical attractiveness cues and these are clearly correlated with the years of maximum fertility.”

This should highlight just how quickly and radically women lose sexual value as they hit their 30s. The rare gem is Monica Bellucci who can still look bangable at age 40. Most women look like this at 40:

If you really want to get under a cougar’s skin, tell her the truth: she is the sexual equivalent of a nerdy, socially inept beta male. When she has hit the wall and no men but the lowliest degenerates would try to fuck her, she has become what she loathes the most — the omega male.

Cougars on the prowl? No. More like cougars settling down for a long winter’s nap.

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Women Are Most Deluded At 31

A survey of older women and their husbands who were being watched while filling in the survey questions “””concluded””” that women were most attractive at age 31.

The poll of 2,000 men and women, commissioned by the shopping channel QVC to celebrate its Beauty Month, found that females in their early thirties are seen as more attractive than younger girls as they are more confident and stylish.

Shopping channel QVC — where unbiased science calls home!

[Beauty] was defined as being confident by 70 per cent, having good looks by 67 per cent and being stylish by 47 per cent.

Helen Thomas is undoubtedly a confident woman.

This confidence deluding device is one of thinnest reeds women hang onto as they age. It’s a classic case of gender projection. Women are attracted to confidence in men, so surely men must be attracted to confidence in women. Obvi! Unfortunately, it doesn’t work out that way in the real breathing world. Above a very minimal level of functioning self-esteem (i.e. not so depressed that she shuts herself indoors and whimpers in a corner in the fetal position), a woman’s attractiveness has little to do with her confidence, however amorphously defined. A confident beast is still a beast, albeit more insufferable than a beast who knows her place.

A lot of women also confuse sexual openness for confidence. Raging tankgrrl sluts are especially prone to believing that their sexual aggressiveness is the hallmark of feminist confidence. In reality, it is the hallmark of sluttiness, nothing more. It doesn’t take much confidence in one’s self-worth as a woman to spread one’s legs for horny men who will gladly dump a serviceable fuck in any halfway decent and readily available pussy.

Almost two thirds of women surveyed – 63 per cent – agreed that “with age, comes beauty”.

Too easy.

The same number said that as they get older, they care less about what others think of the way they look.

We tend to openly care more about things we have control over. When you’re ugly and getting uglier by the day, it assuages the ego to imagine that you are above such trivial matters as impressing the opposite sex with your looks. And yet, even ancient grandmas will smear lipstick and rouge on themselves before heading out the door for dinner. It’s sad. So the compulsion to care what people think of us never disappears completely; it just fades away as reality continually reconfirms the uselessness of caring very much for something that long ago escaped our scope of influence.

And 51 per cent said as they age they shed their insecurities and feel prettier.

Only 51% in full denial mode? I figured mirrors would be in more homes than that. Interestingly, this survey result contradicts the survey result directly above it.

“Shedding insecurities” is another female empowerment trope. It’s easy to “shed” insecurities when there’s no hope of benefiting from acknowledging insecurities and working to improve the underlying conditions creating them. The rationalization hamster was strong in these survey results. Which brings us to another maxim…

Maxim #85: As women’s bodies age and weaken, their rationalization hamsters grow bigger and stronger. Eventually, the hamster is powerful enough to take control of all higher order consciousness.

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The Self-Delusion Cloak Of Invincibility

Women in their late 30s are freezing their eggs because they haven’t yet found the perfect badass alpha male willing to commit to them and love them for all eternity in between time spent ruling the galaxy.

A study of women at a Belgian clinic found half wanted to freeze their eggs to take the pressure off finding a partner, a fertility conference heard.[…]

The women who had an average age of 38 did not expect to use their frozen eggs until they were around 43 and they realised they needed to undergo the procedure while they were still healthy and fertile.

“We found that they had all had partners in the past, and one was currently in a relationship, but they had not fulfilled their desire to have a child because they thought that they had not found the right man.”

The self-delusion on display here is astounding. These are supposedly smart, educated women thinking like this. They are deluding themselves in two ways. One, late 30s is too late to start harvesting eggs. The shelf life of eggs is short; the primo years for eggs are late teens to mid 20s to begin scooping them out in order to have babies at a much later date through an older woman’s bedraggled, paper-thin vajeen, just as nature intended. But the bigger self-delusion (and the funnier one from my point of view), is the implied belief of these women that they are exempt from the laws of the sexual marketplace. Do smart women really believe that in their late 30s to early 40s they are just as attractive to the alpha males as they were when they were younger, hotter, tighter? If their behavior and spending decisions are any indication, the answer is yes.

They are in for a rude awakening. Oh sure, a couple of them might get extraordinarily lucky and land their prince chumplings, but most will either fade into sexual worthlessness, crying tears of despair at night as their dreams stalk them with visions of empty children’s playpens, or they will suck it up and learn to settle for the unexciting beta lapdog with the advanced degree in domestic engineering. A few will choose to tough it out as single moms, gifting the world with yet another juvenile delinquent or slut in training.

On a side note, how would you feel if you were the “man” in a relationship with one of these cunts who was letting you know in no uncertain terms that she’s putting off childbearing because she doesn’t believe you are worthy of inseminating her? Would that be grounds for switching out her birth control pills for flintstones vitamins just to fuck with her?

[Dr Srilatha Gorthi] said the medical students gave career reasons as the most common reason for considering egg collection while the other students were more concerned about financial stability.

And she added that society needs to better support young women in having a family when they are ready without compromising their careers.

Typical wrongheaded feminist advice. “Better supporting” young women to have a family is exactly what got them into this predicament in the first place. What happens when society stitches a safety net of financial, legal, social, and cultural support under young women? Why, they ride the cock and career carousel until the parties start to get boring, and then they go asking for handouts from the state, from business, and from desperate betas to help them raise their late in life love children.

Here’s a crazy thought: maybe what the West needs to avoid a sad decline is a little less support, instead of more.

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The Most Obnoxious Woman In The World?

I wander the scorched wastelands of the human psyche, explore the depths of the musty ideologies hidden within, and drag them kicking and screaming to the oasis of cleansing truth so that you may be entertained from the comfort of your Barcalounger. My crusade over the past three years finding and eviscerating the hated enemies of beauty and truth has finally brought me face to face with perhaps the most execrable creature to stalk the consciousness of the Holy Hedonist Empire.

I hesitate to write this post because the horror you will find within is nearly beyond comprehension. I risk credibility if it turns out the entire article was a put-on, an act to stimulate an immunological response from a healthy psyche. I accept that risk, because the greater risk is in allowing a genuine abomination to go unridiculed.

From a Washington City Paper interview (hat tip: reader Mike), pay your shilling and enter the tent to feast your eyes upon Jaclyn Friedman, AKA “Fucking While Feminist”:

Jaclyn Friedman is, in short, a feminist rock star. She is the executive director of  WAM!: Women, Action & the Media. She edited the incredible Yes Means Yes!: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape, and continues the work of dismantling rape culture in her weekly pro-sex column. She writes as compellingly about taking off her shirt for fun as she does her college sexual assault. And she has been fucking under these conditions for nearly 20 years.

What is the difference between sex with a pro-sex feminist and sex with a pro-sex normal woman? Earplugs.

Fucking while feminist presents a peculiar set of challenges for the pro-sex single. How do you talk rape culture on a first date while still managing to get laid once in a while? How do you find the feminist guy who won’t self-flagellate to the point of unfuckability? How do you avoid dying alone, basically?

I’ll answer those questions for the City Paper interviewer.

“How do you talk rape culture on a first date while still managing to get laid once in a while?”

You don’t if you want to date men who aren’t afraid of their own penises.

“How do you find the feminist guy who won’t self-flagellate to the point of unfuckability?”

Such a man doesn’t exist. If he does, he is lying to you. Or gay.

“How do you avoid dying alone, basically?”

Cat cryogenics.

J[aclyn] F[riedman]: The way I hope it will work is that they ask these initial questions [about my rape culture books] before we meet in person. So then they can go offline and collect their thoughts and then respond to me. My profile says I’m a feminist. So a lot of people who would be really scared off by me, we don’t get very far. When the whole Polanski thing was going down, I had this big argument with a guy about Polanski. First date. And last one.

No surprise there. Though I can only read her words, I can vicariously hear her grating voice plucking out my ear hairs one by one, slowly to maximize the pain. Could you imagine going on a date with this shrike? She’s already arguing with you before the first round is ordered. If I get into *one* big argument with a chick within the first three months of dating her, I seriously consider dumping her. But a big argument on the first date is a giant red flag that proudly proclaims “Kneel before my mighty shit test, and pass or be emasculated by the swinging of my serrated clit dick!” Some shit tests are not worth passing. Sometimes it’s just an ugly, gnarled soul staring daggers of challenge at you from across the table.

Do you have any feminist litmus tests?

JF: I would like for there to be a set of feminist litmus tests that I could reference and use to find the right guy. Right now, I feel like I’m in an endless cycle of asking myself, “Am I willing to let this slide?” I’m mostly dating guys right now, which is fairly new for me. From my early 20s to my mid-30s I dated exclusively women and trans men.

Ah, so she’s in her late 30s or 40s now. That would explain the sudden biological urge to merge with sperm-manufacturing normal men. Experimentation is all fun and games until your subjects stop finding you a worthwhile lay.

I’m not romanticizing that, like “it’s so much easier with women”—let me tell you, it’s not. But it’s a different set of questions you have to ask. I don’t feel like I can go in to these dates expecting dudes to know as much about feminism or sexuality studies or rape culture [i.e., lies], the stuff that I live my life talking about and thinking about. I feel like I’m going to die alone if I do that.

Will your slavish adherence to your comforting lies have been worth it?

Here is what’s depressing about dating while feminist. Feminism is what I do with my life, it’s how I spend my days, it’s my job, it’s not just an opinion I have among many other opinions.

The most dogmatic ideologues are always running on the righteous fury of their opinions. They have to, because one stop to take a breath could mean the entire edifice of lies crumbles down on them from forward momentum. They secretly suspect, late at night when the terrifying silence leaves them alone with their innermost thoughts, that everything they believe is a lie. And so they shout hate and fear at the heart of the world. Imagine waking up one day to realize your entire life was a farce? And a deadly farce at that; one which withheld from you some of the greatest joys of life.

If I had a hardcore litmus test, the pool of men I could date would be so tiny.

I’ve got news for you, my cougar child. It’s getting tiny regardless of any litmus test you might impose. Which, ironically, will cause you to impose ever stricter litmus tests. The bruised ego drinks deeply from the chalice of the sour grapewine.

And then when you weeded out men who are gay, the men I don’t find attractive, the men already in monogamous, committed relationships—really, I would never get laid again. So I do feel that I have to try to be flexible out of necessity.

Older women either stiffen into celibacy or become Yogic masters of dating flexibility. As “Feminist While Fucking” seems to possess a man’s libido, she has opted to accept the dreary fact that her waning sexual market value places constraints on what she can, and can no longer, demand from the men she dates.

But if I were to end up with someone—and I do want a long-term, stable relationship with someone at some point—they would have to be feminist on some basic level. They would have to be.

Hey, betas, guess what! You now have your shot at tasting the curdled nectar of an aging radical feminist who has spent her prime years servicing a battalion of men, women, and transsexuals. All you need to do is nod in agreement when she discusses the finer points of the imaginary gender wage gap. Sound like a good deal? And turn off that sexbot when I’m talking to you.

Right now my basic litmus test is this: Is he interested in feminist issues when I bring them up?

Sure. I’ve noticed feminists are quicker to jump into bed than non-feminists.

And can he talk about them in ways that express curiosity and engagement and respect, instead of defensiveness or dismissiveness or attachment to stereotypes?

Feminists have hairy armpits and daddy issues.

If we can talk about this stuff in ways that are interesting and productive, I can work with it most of the time.

A good marriage will have a higher status husband and a better looking wife. Discuss.

[T]he only cisgender man I’ve been in a longterm relationship was a feminist when I met him. We would have feminism arguments where I was educated by him, and vice versa. And I thought, well, how lucky I am to have found a feminist guy! And he ended up being an ass . . . in somewhat unrelated ways.

Disturbed hardcore feminists are attracted to assholes, too. Red alert on Drudge.

Is there anything that men can mention in their dating profiles that tips you off to feminist compatibility?

JF: Well, this is my test: When I look at personal ads, I look at their lists of favorite books, movies, and music, and they have to list women in all of those categories.

Ok, here goes.

Favorite books: Anything by Stephenie Meyer

Favorite movies: Anything by Leni Riefenstahl

Favorite music: T.A.T.U.

Heh.

I also don’t respond to any guy who says they’re looking for a woman who “doesn’t have drama,” not because I have a lot of drama, but because I feel like that is code for women who have opinions.

This is super double secret code for “I will blab endlessly about utter bullshit while you sit and listen with the patience of a saint”.

. . I also have a couple things in my profile that are screeners, that I’m hoping will turn off people I don’t want to be bothered by. I mention feminism. I say I’m a size 16. But I do it all in a flirty way, like, ’size 16 can be sexy,” not in a way that says, “I AM ALL THESE THINGS. DEAL WITH IT.”

Proud feminist, aging spinster, fatty. What’s not to love? Rhetorical.

PS: Size sixteen cannot be sexy. Saying so won’t change the fact that the vast majority of men, particularly desirable men who don’t need to lie to get sex, are repulsed by the rolls of blubber you refer to as “curves”.

So when you tell people that you’re a feminist, do they have assumptions about what the sex is going to be like?

JF: A couple of guys were shocked that I like to play various games in bed, because I’m a feminist. That’s always really interesting to me. I’m always like, ‘Are you kidding me? The feminists I know are the craziest women in bed you can find!”

There’s gotta be an iron law of the land that states the less desirable the woman, the kinkier she is in bed. Compensation in da houze!

So do you meet guys who pass the feminist test but then turn out to be disappointments for other reasons?

JF: Oh God. There is a type of feminist guy who is so eager to fall over himself to be deferential to women and to prove his feminist bona fides and flagellate himself in front of you, to the point that it really turns me off. And it makes me sad, because politically, these are the guys that I should be sleeping with! You know what I’m talking about?

Color me unsurprised that a woman’s gina tingle doesn’t oscillate to a man’s political beliefs.

They haven’t internalized their feminism, so it’s always being externalized. And it places a lot of pressure on the women they’re with. There’s this very self-conscious performance of feminism. And it does sometimes feel like they want a cookie. . . .  OK, I know this is such a delicate conversation to have, but I want those guys to wake up because those are the guys I want to want to sleep with!

You want to want to sleep with men but your abrasive, unfeminine personality attracts eunuchs. Clever eunuchs who tell you what you want to hear in hopes of getting in your XL pants, but eunuchs nonetheless.

I sort of feel that I get cast in these dudes’ narratives as the Hellcat Dream Girl, there to prove how bad-ass they are because they’re dating such a bad-ass woman. They think it’s cute or sexy. But when I use that smart, outspoken bad-assery to challenge their own perspectives, it’s suddenly not sexy at all.

No shit it’s not sexy. What man worth his stones wants to spend time with a woman always pitched in heated battle against every perceived slight to her worldview? Especially when her perspective is a mountain of lies. Men get enough of that from other men. The point of women is that they aren’t men. But maybe we are entering an era of manjaws and art fags.

I feel like the same thing happened with the guy I dated for two years. He liked the idea of being a guy who would be with someone like me, but ultimately it turned out that he wanted someone who wouldn’t challenge him as much, a person who was easier and quicker to sweep away. I got evidence of that when, within three months of breaking up with me, he was dating a 23 year old who lists her political views on Facebook as “moderate.”

😆

I hope this field guide to Americanus afeminoxious was as unpleasant for you as it was for me. But really, there was nothing new here. Guests of the Chateau have all seen these creatures before, in special holding cells, their cries of torment under the lashings of my bulldykewhip striking a dulcet note on weary ears.

The more interesting question is what kind of man would so debase himself to willingly spend time in such a woman’s company? To suffer the tortures of the damned, his ears ringing with the demonic cacophony of femicunt war shrieks? To betray the last, good measure of his manly essence for a pittance of overripe pussy? What kind of man, indeed?

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The Wall

the wall [thuh wawl] -noun: 1. a large, immovable monolith of frightening and awesome power capable of threshing egos and rending souls, serving as a metaphorical stoppage point at the intersection between a woman’s declining sexual attractiveness and her advancing years, beyond which female sexual desirability disappears into the misty void.

FuturePundit has a post up highlighting a scientific study which concludes, most depressingly, that by age 30 only 12% of a woman’s eggs remain.

Tom Kelsey, a Senior Research Fellow at the School of Computer Science at St Andrews, said, “Previous models have looked at the decline in ovarian reserve, but not at the dynamics of ovarian reserve from conception onwards. Our model shows that for 95% of women, by the age of 30 years, only 12% of their maximum ovarian reserve is present, and by the age of 40 years only 3% remains.

This is a surprise even to me. I knew there was a significant dropoff in female fertility by age 30, but I didn’t know it was this precipitous. I find this news depressing, because female fertility and sexual attractiveness closely parallel; allowing for a few lag years for the outer shell to catch up to the inner biology, the number of viable eggs a woman has remaining directly correlates with the number of years she has left as a highly coveted product on the sexual market. That is, when a woman has a full basket of eggs she is at her most beautiful. When she has dwindled to 50% eggs left, she is desireable to only half the men she was capable of attracting for short and, particularly, long term relationships when she was at her beauty prime. And when she is down to 3% eggs at age 40, she can only attract 3% of the men she used to attract for long term investment when she was peaking at, typically, age 20. And what’s worse, those 3% of men are the leftover omega dregs with no other options whom she turned down when she was a hotter commodity.

Personally, as a man who has no desire to have kids, the number of remaining eggs a woman has left is of no concern to me other than as an abstract matter. But a woman’s beauty is of paramount concern to me, and as such it would happen that, through the use of my infallible divining boner rod, my very selective screening procedures against women showing signs of physical decay would necessitate that I avoid dating women with less than 50% eggs in their basket. So far, this is how it has worked out, and I’ve mostly game and a devilish smile to thank for that.

This saddens me. Why? I will explain. Anything, any uncontrollable force, that strips beauty from the world is my enemy. How much grander and pleasurable life if women stayed beautiful for 100 years instead of a precious 15 years? How much love would my heart shout at the world if the pool of beautiful women was every woman, everywhere, forevermore, and not just a small sliver of women with power so fleeting it may as well be a curse than a blessing? Imagine this world, and tell me then how you keep the demons of hate from lashing impudently and futilely against the natural order of things. I say fuck the natural order. Bring on the life and beauty extending tamperings of human ingenuity. Get off your knees, you limp-noodled gaiaists and blithely stoic servants of religion, you philosophical naifs and self-deluded sophists. Turn the tables and bring your evolutionary inheritance to its knees, if you dare.

More evidence for the wall comes from a Japanese study showing that there is a real “tipping point” in aging, or a “hitting the wall” effect, where a woman’s natural biological ability to rejuvenate herself and stay toe to toe with the ravages of aging slips into freefall at age 35, much younger than previously thought.

‘While some measurements showed a gradual decline, cheek volume – one of the key factors in a youthful appearance – can drop off suddenly, by as much as 35 per cent in a year,’ he says.

Naturally, there are some women whose stress-inducing lives of stripping, smoking, slutting, and single motherhood age them much faster than their actual years. These are truly tragic cases, for they have thrown away their most precious asset for instant gratification.

In other news, the new HBO documentary “Youth Knows No Pain” was pretty good. A number of the women interviewed were boldly honest about their declining sexual attractiveness, and the reasons for why they went under the knife to “get a little work done”. One woman even noted that when her friends told her there are plenty of women who look good for their age, like Sophia Loren, she responded that Sophia Loren is just one woman out of millions who “don’t look so good when they get older”. Found: A woman with a grasp of basic statistical concepts. Alert the media!

Most of the women in the documentary looked like alien-eyed stretchy gumbo toys, but a couple did actually look pretty good, at least ten years younger than their ages. At some point, the science is going to have to dispense with the scalpel and start rejuvenating under the hood, fixing the problem at its source using stem cells or some other form of cellular manipulation. I can’t wait for matrix-like abortion mills to be constructed to help my harem stay young and sexy for as long as possible.

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