Archive for the ‘Inner Beauty’ Category

Mars and Venus“, by Antonio Canova.

Dat contrapposto. The old timers knew how an alpha male should stand (and how a woman should look when she’s ecstatically submitting to him).

Crucially, notice how Mars’ chest faces outward (while Venus’ entire body is devoted to him). His eyes pierce Venus’ soul with divine love, but his torso belies a longing in his heart for conquests and glory that are apart from her. See also: CH Poon Commandment III.


Compare and contrast with modern Western art:

It’s the elevation of ugliness all the way down.

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Nouveau GoodWhites who falsely pride themselves on their intellectual capacity to appreciate the highly abstracted mess known as postmodern art secretly yearn for, and experience tremendous emotional engagement with, art that reaches back and embraces mythological archetypes. Discuss.

I’ve seen a few SWPL hipsters walking around in t-shirts printed with the words “More Humble Athletes Please”. You have to have some familiarity with shitlib SWPL euphemisms to know that this t-shirt is their way of saying “Less Naggershines Please”. Discuss.

Leftoid pundit assertions to the contrary notwithstanding, White America is or soon will be moving rightward, but unlike similar past ideological shifts it won’t matter because this go round non-White demographics will obviate the consequences of that White rightward shift. When this happens, resentment and anger will spread among Whites as they come to realize what an evil has been perpetrated on them by their leaders the past fifty odd years. Discuss.

A woman who doesn’t orgasm but remains deeply satisfied after sex with her man feels a much truer, more honest love for him than a woman who gets irritated if she doesn’t orgasm with her man regularly. Aaaaaaaand…. discuss.

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The Wall In Song

Via reader Red Eleven, a 1996 outtake of bluesy female singer Eva Cassidy cooing the song “Tall Trees in Georgia”, a somber folk tune about The Wall.

Tall trees in Georgia,
They grow so high
They shade me so
And sadly walking
Through the thicket I go

The sweetest love I ever had
I left aside
Because I did not want
To be any man’s bride
But now I’m older
And married I would be
I found my sweetheart
But he would not marry me

When I was younger
The boys all came around
But now I’m older
And they’ve all settled down
Control your mind my girl
And give your heart to one
For if you love all men
You’ll be surely left with none

Tall trees in Georgia,
They grow so high
They shade me so
And sadly walking
Through the thicket I go


sniff. I’m all choked up like Boehner when his daughter first brought home her rasta boyfriend.

With rare exceptions, a song like “Tall Trees in Georgia”, about a woman’s precious few peak pulchritude years on this earth and the risks of riding the cock carousel, would not get recorded or promoted today.

Post-1990, female singers became strident, bitchy, and vengeful, rarely missing an opportunity to slip quasi-radfem and penis-resenting talking points in their lyrics. Before then, their songs’ themes were vulnerable, feminine, and filled with genuine affection for, and loving exasperation with, men.

Feminine women are unafraid to confront the realities of the sexual market. Their femininity and trust in the good of most men allows them the psychological room to be honest artists, telling it like it really is for women. Unfeminine women like we have today, full of sound and fury and marbled fat, are so enraged with their lot in life and with the men who, unsurprisingly, keep letting them down, that they have no psychological space left to explore themes and tell of experiences that might put them in an unflattering light. When you are a loser, or you feel like a loser, you struggle hard against admitting flaws in yourself and against inherent, immutable unfairness in “society” and in the human condition.

This, btw, is how you know the bravado of aggro sixth wave tankgrrls is a smelly crotch of shit. Bravado in women is especially off-putting, because everyone instinctively knows that this is a pose struck by bitter harpies who can’t afford even a tiny bit of introspection. When a feminist loser peers into the abyss, she gets sucked all the way down to the bottomless void.

So what happened around 1990? GenX and Millennials happened. That’s one thing. Another is that the dynamic of the sexual market changed. It turned coarser and sluttier (in proclamation if not in actual PIV) and more marriage-averse (age of first marriage for men and women has been steadily increasing for decades). CH has explored this theme many times in previous posts, but I’ll quickly summarize the working hypothesis:

When men are denied their deepest desire — sex and romance with a cute slender young woman — they become embittered and prone to dropping out.

When women are denied their deepest desire — romance and family with a strong, charming, admired man — they become embittered and prone to lashing out.

The sexual market we have today is one that, incredibly, manages to deny men and women both of their deepest desires. Men are deplored and effeminate, withdrawing to pron and Halo 19. Women are desperate and aggressively slutty, obese, and ill-mannered, withdrawing to tumblrrea and fifty shades of sadistic billionaire cock.

I expect this state of no affairs to reach a breaking point within the next five years, to be replaced by lucifer knows what, but probably something worse thanks to the added spice of open borders and the Randi Lee Harperization of American culture.

PS The stereotype is true: Southron women are earthier and more “real” than Northron women. The branches reaching skyward from Albion’s seed slung heavier in the South.

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You can tell a lot about what people really value by… eureka!… listening to their conversations.

Women sometimes talk about sex — and they can be surprisingly raunchy recalling or imagining the details of intimate congress — but sex talk is hardly a major focus of their socializing amongst girl friends. Usually, one girl (the token slut) will crack a joke about the shape of the penis she inhaled and the others will collaterally cackle as part of an alliance preserving exercise. The smutcluck is dropped quickly for extended emphasis on subjects nearer and dearer to the female heart: Relationships and love.

(Slutwalk women who stick with the raunch talk for an awkwardly uncomfortable length of conversational air space tend to elicit disapproving glares and then social abandonment from their girl friends. Chicks have a limited capacity for enduring sex talk, even in their female friends.)

When women veer into R&L, as is the frequent wont of their meandering sex, their conversation assumes a VERY SERIOUS TONE.


INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “We’re back together.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “Oh really! I didn’t know…”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #!: “You didn’t know?”

[twenty  more minutes of delicate social maneuvering before getting to the meat of the topic]

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “It’s just that he did this really nice thing and I really love that.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “mmhmm, yeah that’s sweet.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “And anyhow I think he tried to say he loves me.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “He dropped the L word! Wow, that’s big.”


[two more hours of hot debate about the precise wording of the boyfriend’s confession and whether it counts as a sincere exclamation of love. tack on another hour of girls #1, 3, and 4 alternately affirming girl #2’s decision to stay with her boyfriend and playing a gentle devil’s advocate for dumping the guy.]


Men, in the starkest of contrasts, rarely, if ever, have conversations about R&L. Instead, what do cool dudes talk about when the subject isn’t sports, work or hobbies?


ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #1: “So what happened last night? I saw you hitting on that hot blonde.”

ALSO ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #2: “Dude, I got her back to my place!”

VERILY, ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #3: “No shit! Did you tap it?”

ALSO ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #2: “Oh man, she was crazy. She was down on my knob, doing this thing…”

[twenty minutes of high fives and rapt attention as excruciatingly crude, detailed account is told of sex positions and composition of female squirt juice.]

NOT SO COOL DUDE #4: “Man, great stuff. Does this mean you’re gonna date her for a while?”

[sound of air being let out of balloon. full-body group cringing and disappointed looks exchanged.]

ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #1: “How ’bout those Dodgers?”


The examples I presented here are highly illustrative of real life among normal psychologically healthy human beings, but neither presupposes that men never concern themselves with relationships and love, nor that women are never interested in talking about sex. The key difference between the sexes is this:

Women are primarily interested in R&L, and secondarily interested in sex. Men are primarily interested in sex, and secondarily interested in R&L.

To punctuate the point, try to imagine a conversation between men that focused on R&L without any familiar, tension-alleviating digressions into sex talk.


BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “We’re back together. It’s been one month.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “Aww! Tell me all about it!”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “Wellllll… she’s been really good to me lately.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “That’s really great.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “AAAAaaaand… I think she might’ve said she loves me.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “Wow, that’s huge! How did that come up?”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “I’m not ENTIRELY sure she said the EXACT words ‘i love you’ but it sounded like she was trying to say them.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “I knew there was something between you two!”


Preposterous on the face of it. No straight man has a conversation like this with his buddies, unless he’s auditioning for a part in a Broadway play called “My Colon For Old Fags” or “My Own Private Hide-A-Pole”.

Yes, yes, so many of you are shocked by this news. “Tell us something we don’t know, CH.” But we have entered a cultural dystopia when this common sense is rapidly being distorted and replaced by feminist and manlet poopytalk. Tragically, some of the SJW poopytalk is reaching the ears of impressionable naifs, and setting some of them on a course for self-destruction, especially those whose emotional stability is marginal.

There are CH readers with children. One of these naifs swallowing feminist slut cunt lies by the bucketful could one day be your daughter.

When bitterbitches ape the mannerisms and sociosexual predilections of men, their butthurt try-hardness is a transparent ruse all but the lappiest lapdogs can see through. A girl screeching about “opening her legs for every man BUT YOU” is assuming a twisted, false pride in a domain normally and healthfully reserved for men which she knows, deep inside where the armor of her lies yields to the rumbling growl of her id, is a phony front serving no purpose other than blind rage at the retreating world of a good man’s sincere love leaving her behind.

Case in point: The “dick is abundant and low value” girl I had to disembowel as a lesson for the others. With much pain and sorrow in my heart, I took the shiv to her exposed ego and performed a necessary duty. A duty that perhaps would, one day, somewhere, and in a fashion that social science studies would struggle to capture in their arid data sets, rescue an innocent young woman or young man from living by the lies of a loser in love.

For those still wondering what this is all about, a revelation. Above all, Le Chateau abides the Keats’ ode: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty.” Our glorious, gleaming civilization is getting uglier and further from the truth by the day. A mind full of lies contorts the body into misshapen ugliness. An ugly visage will infect the mind with ego-assuaging lies. Lies must be exposed at birth, or they will grow monstrous and consume everything beautiful in their path. In the wake of lies, ugliness follows like a toxic spindrift.

Therefore, the CH Excalibur… the Holy Heartistian Shiv… drives through the bullshit until the gore stains the hilt, so that beauty and truth may once again assert their rightful place as earthly host to humanity, and the loveless lampreys, despite their worst fears, find to their surprise a new hope for a better life…… or slink away to the icy outback where their limbic disease is quarantined to their own souls.


❤️SCIENCE❤️ presents her rump and accepts a meaty intrusion from yours truly before looking over her shoulder with love in her eyes.

Findings reveal that while communication patterns tend to be supportive and relationship-focused in women’s bathrooms, the graffiti in men’s bathroom walls are replete with sexual content and insults, in the course of the construction of hegemonic masculinity.

H/t commenter Strahlemann. The sex-based difference in predilection for R&L or sex talk is evident even in anonymous bathroom stalls. Chicks scrawl odes to LTRs. Men scratch sonnets to sexual slang.

If you play on Team CH, you bat 1.000. How can you not like those odds?

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In my years of living, dating, and loving across these United Plates, I’ve come to certain conclusions about women drawn from a wellspring of eagle-eyed observations and red raw experiences. One of my personal observations is that smarter women tend, for various reasons among which female hypergamy must surely loom prominent, to have more difficulty locking down a long-term boyfriend, and to stay single far longer in between relationship bouts, than do women of less Hollywood-sized prefrontal-pectorals. And this romantic failure is worse the smarter the woman.

But, I didn’t have the benefit of ¡scientifical! studies to confirm my observations, so I guess I should have washed my brain of any pattern recognition inputs and waited the requisite fifty years for the scientific consensus to come to a prevailing view.

As I’ve always said, if you keep your eyes open and live not by pretty lies, 80% of the patterns you observe about human nature will eventually be proven true by laboratory analysis (or at least recognized as a real phenomenon by cultural gatekeepers). (15% of the remaining 20% are too difficult to properly measure by social scientists, and the last 5% of your observations can be grouped under conventional wisdom that science manages to overturn, usually by data-twisting legerdemain.)

From the article relevant to this post, the quotes that make feminists choke:

A study conducted with 121 British participants reported findings that females with high intelligence in male/female relationships were seen as problematic.

Their intelligence were predicted to cause problems in the relationships. Whereas, high intelligence in the male partner was not seen as problematic, but desirable. […]

Why don’t men want women with whom they can converse and who challenge them? [ed: spot the false premise] When did the aversion to strong and intelligent women become a code orange? When did everyone just want to go to the Bahamas and lie around?

In an article by “The Wire,” financial reporter, John Carney, gives one explanation for this phenomenon, deducing, “successful men date less successful women not because they want ‘women to be dumb’ but rather because they want ‘someone who prioritizes their life in a way that’s compatible with how you prioritize yours.’”

Basically, they want someone who isn’t ever going to let her career come before making dinner and pleasing them first.

My take is that men, especially smart men, instinctively recoil from very smart and/or educated women (in the same way women instinctively recoil from needy niceguys) because men know that a woman of equal or greater brainpower or academic achievement is a high risk for future relationship instability and a latent threat to paternity assurance. Men are aware, consciously perhaps, subconsciously definitely, that female hypergamy is real and therefore it’s personally advantageous to find women who aren’t too much more gifted in traits that double as male mate fitness cues.

In short, it pays men to date up in looks and date down in everything else.

The inverse is also true. It pays women to date down in looks and date up in everything else.

Everyone’s happier all around if they abide the above two Heartistian precepts.

A reader contemptuously adds,

Nearly schizophrenic incoherence, self-loathing, generalized rage, sexual frustration, pride that she can’t admit that a life has been spent believing pretty, stupid lies and making irretrievable mistakes, contempt and hatred for men on one hand, yet demands and pangs of hopeless desire for their attention and affection and love on the other hand, unabashed hatred for women who are young and attractive and willing to make love and devotion to a man a priority in their lives.

This hamster wheel is spinning at 10,000 revolutions per second. The axle is going red-hot from the friction.  The spinning wheel is making a sharp, high-pitched, painful screeching sound, which sets your teeth on edge. If you listen carefully millions just like it are audible all over America.

This can’t go on much longer.  10 years, maybe. But not 50. Probably not another entire generation.

Future generations will look back on the women of this era with disgusted amazement.

Before then they are going to spend the second 50 years of their medically extended lives alone and filled with a despair and a hatred for their own lives and for the lives of those around them who have managed to be happy which is going to poison our society for many years to come.

If they weren’t so vicious and destructive you could almost feel sorry for them.

I do think we Americans are living through a period (heh) when women are at their absolute worst. Porn addicted manlet men aren’t much better, but this dystopia is largely a female-centered implosion.

There’s a gene-culture co-evolution process that describes how groups have self-balancing mechanisms, so that when one type of organism within the group becomes too numerous, a competing type will start to have greater reproductive success to “bring balance to the force”. I forget the term for it, but the classic case is the “cheater-cooperator” evolutionary strategies, in which cheaters prosper (and hence reproductively prosper) in cooperative societies, but then lose ground to cooperators when cheaters become too numerous and start poaching each other.

Well, a similar thing could be happening with SMRT women. The more smart over-educated over-credentialed women a society has, the less reproductively fit they become at the same time women with average smarts become more reproductively fit. The group shifts its evolutionary strategy toward smarter or dumber women as each becomes prominent. Maybe this is why human IQ hasn’t continued upward into the stratosphere…. smart men get tired of the haranguing from smart women and smart women get locked out of the dating market because there aren’t very many men smarter than them who can satisfy their hypergamous urgings, and they resist settling for dumber men.

Related, the supply of beta males in a group could also fluctuate according to some cosmic balancing mechanism that favors or disfavors betas depending on their numbers. The rise of pathologically altruistic white beta males in the West is producing blowback as their ranks swell with self-abnegating ankle-biters. Ultra violent thugs or ultra charming cads are starting to increase in impression, if not yet in number, and women are turning to them for relief from the effete beta male masses.

It’s a spitball, I know, but maybe it’s high time for the patented CH BOSSS strategy to invigorate our culture to take center stage? Maybe it already has and we’re just now waking up to the fact?

PS Really smart women fuck like demonesses. They love their contraceptively-enabled fucking as much as any sub-mensa slut.

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Courtesy of commenter mendozatorres, a quote from Mary Haweis, authoress, who sounds spookily prescient about our current state of marriage as she reminds her readers that marriage sans concessions is a boon for women and a raw deal for men.

Alas, when people complain of men not marrying (even they who are able), they forget how little women offer in exchange for all they get by marriage. Girls are so seldom taught to be of any use whatever to a man that I am only astonished at the numbers of men who do marry! [ed: we all are, mary.] Many girls do not even try to be agreeable to look at, much less to live with. They forget how numerous they are, and the small absolute need men have of wives; but, nevertheless, men do still marry, and would oftener marry could they find mates – women who are either helpful to them, or amusing, or pleasing to their eye.

–The Art of Beauty by Mary Eliza Haweis, published in 1878.

I wonder what the prime fertility years sex ratio was in 1878?

Mary Eliza Haweis is a friend of the Chateau. She understands — more nobly, she admits — that men must necessarily sacrifice to marry, while women enjoy lavish gains and the fulfillment of lifelong dreams when they marry. This inherent marital risk bias favoring women implies that the institution should be structured to supply men with some up front guarantees of return on investment or indulgences to fulfill, at least occasionally, their own male-specific romantic prerogatives.

Not surprisingly, Mary looks to be a fairly attractive woman by the standards of her time. It’s not quite an ironclad rule, but the way to bet is that attractive women are likelier than homely women to have familiarity with the basic truths governing the behavior of the sexes. After all, what kind of woman will be more in need of soothing platitudes to make it through the day without pondering the existential release of the razor blade poised lengthwise?

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Have you noticed the dearth of original ideas coming out of Hollywood? The problem is that a good idea needs a companion in the truth. And our culture has turned violently away from the truth. Consequently, novel ideas in all art forms are getting rarer.

Reader PA suggests a Crimson Pill movie idea that’s both fresh and honest.

I wonder if rape victims who experienced orgasms mid rape were capable of having vaginal orgasms in their normal lives.

You’re writing a screenplay for a drama/thriller involving a normal, happily married woman who was just brutally raped and came hard in the throes of the assault. Her husband is a normal blue-pill greater beta who suddenly finds her unable to have vaginal sex. The husband goes through tears and frustration, and self-defeating attempts at being “supportive” and then finds a crimson arts blog and makes a plan to transform himself into a Love-Heisenberg, to save the marriage.

Do you simply graft the script of “9 and 1/2 Weeks” from here on, or is there another approach?

Throw in a paint-by-numbers overcredentialed marriage counselor, a spiteful feminist BFF, and an undersexed white knight friend of the husband who secretly desires his wife, and you’ve got yourself boffo box office!

By the way, Fifty Shades of Grey, if you don’t already know, is a complete rip-off of the vastly superior Mickey Rourke-Kim Bassinger erotic movie Nine 1/2 Weeks. Ferkrissake, the male lead’s character name in Nine 1/2 is “John Gray”. I’m surprised critics have failed to note the similarities. It’s canny enough that the producers of Nine 1/2 (and the writer of the book on which the movie is based) have grounds to sue the fat pig who wrote Fifty Shades.

Bassinger’s character, Elizabeth, in Nine 1/2 also falls for a badboy with a sadistic streak. (Girls can’t help themselves.) There is a rape scene in which Elizabeth has a powerful orgasm. She is both bewildered and entranced by her body’s betrayal of her good sense. The movie has a sort of audience-stroking happy ending, when Elizabeth, deeply in love with John but emotionally broken by his intensifying manipulations (he has her watch a prostitute service him in a hotel room), leaves him, but in so doing turns her back on a piece of her womanhood. There’s a subtext that she will never joyously submit to that kind of fiery passion again.

(John should’ve balanced all that anxiety-inducement with some comfort. Game 101, man!)

Personally, I would take PA’s idea and make a feint toward a Nine 1/2 Weeks conclusion, except with a Walter White Breaking Badboy twist: The greater beta husband, upon elevating himself as the dominant force in his wife’s life and finally in a position to save their marriage (ironically via a route that mirrors his wife’s confusing rape experience), opts instead to succumb to the temptations of his reinvention. I’d also change the deus ex machina from a blog to a player buddy, or perhaps to a death row inmate with a pile of marriage proposals from adoring female fans. Internet-hemmed epiphanies don’t play well on screen.

Submission to a man worthy of it is engraved in a woman’s soul. She will deny it, the Hivemind will deny it, the pedestal-polishing plushboys will deny it as they politely discuss financial outlooks over the din of insistent pleat-imprisoned chubbies in sterile offices with gogrrl droids in pencil skirts, but when the blinds are closed and the darkness descends, every woman will arch her back to meet the lovely, exquisite pain of an icy caress.

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