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Archive for the ‘Inner Beauty’ Category

A reader passes along an anecdote that tells of The Trumpening sweeping the nation. I reprint it in full here.

******

Heartiste,

I just wanted to drop you a line about something that happened this morning at work, 6AM on a Saturday being the white man’s burden when you work in construction.

A T level most certainly is rising across the fruited plain.

I’m a construction superintendent, working currently on a project to build a Starbucks in an airport outside of the security area. I unlocked the job site for some of my subcontractors before they arrived, and went upstairs to pass through security with my airport credentials so that I could grab a tray of caffeinated nectars for my worker bees. The manager for the food service company comps me free coffees because we’re building their other location.

I noticed a new worker behind the register today. Young lad, probably 19 or 20, working his weekend gig as there’s a state college nearby. He’s as tall as I am at 5’11”, and has the lean runner’s build that I once had in my youth before I started to lift and weld for a living. His hair is blonde, a bit long but not unkempt but waving out a bit on the sides from beneath his company hat. I’m dressed casually. Button-down Carhartt plaid work shirt, well-fitting jeans, and Red Wing work boots. I have my Trumpening campaign donation hat on– it’s glorious simplicity broadcasting a bold MAGA on a crimson background.

The young fellow gets told by the manager that I’m all set– a woman in her mid to late forties, post wall, but with a prominently displayed rock and wedding band on her finger. She radiates a maternal glow despite her declined looks that reveal a stunner in previous years. The young blonde man can’t hold it back anymore, and he looks for the fifth time at my hat, locks eyes with me and his face starts beaming from ear to ear in that sort of genuine happiness that may make him look a bit buffoonish, but his youthful excitement won’t let him control his state. He slides my coffees over and gushes, “Man, I LOVE that hat!!!” I ask, “Do you have one?” He does not. I have four or five of them from my repeat donations and an order for two more. I took my hat off and handed it to him, and he’s beside himself with thanks.

He struck me as a young man who is a beta of circumstance of his environment, on the precipice of losing his last fuck to give about Leftoid sensibilities so pervasive in our culture. He innately knows, and maybe isn’t quite able to articulate it yet, that what is happening with Trump is a very wholesome and virtuous thing.

I walked away thinking, for the first time in a long time, that there really is hope for nation.

Keep up the tireless work. You have my faith and support.

******

It’s the little trumpenings like the one in this story that, added together, foretell a revolution so mighty and unstoppable it will smash the edifice of the One World/One Race Globalist Order and replace it with what has been lost and ignored for far too long: Truth and Beauty. Our fathers might have thought, “someday a real rain will come and wash away the filth”. The rains have come. The filth is scurrying for the sewers. Tomorrow brings a Golden Don.

PS Reader Corvo offers his own Trumpening anecdote.

I was campaigning for Trump knocking on doors in a run-down PA town this past weekend with a 20-something year-old young White man. This town used to be full of working-class Whites, now most of the houses are abandoned or inhabited by blacks or mestizos who don’t speak English.

Out of roughly 60 doors we knocked on in this neighborhood, there were only a handful of Whites; they seemed to me cut-off, desperately clinging to what little they had left and surrounded by a sea of decay as the third-world rose around them. They were pretty shocked to see two White men with MAGA hats knock on their door offering bumper stickers and campaign flyers.

One man was so happy to see us, he shook our hands and thanked us for coming out and said he couldn’t remember the last time a Republican presidential campaign came through his neighborhood. This young goy I was with had a TRUMP t-shirt (new from the campaign office) on top of his long-sleeved shirt, and he took the Trump t-shirt off and handed it to the guy and said “Here, take this one, I’ll get another one later.”

People are waking up, indeed.

That’s a great vignette of life in America’s Forgotten White communities. These are the left behind people disparaged as “deserving to die” by fatcuck NROnik Kevin Williamson and as “deplorable” by corruptcunt Hillary Clinton. Instead of helping these lost souls, our anti-White cucks and Clintonista globalist whores want to heap an endless procession of miseries upon them. There isn’t a lake of fire deep enough and hot enough to consume all the rottenness and malevolence that animates Hillary Clinton’s wicked corporeal form.

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You’d have to be living under a rock to miss the active and accelerating Western elite propaganda campaign to promote miscegenation, particularly of the White woman-black man variety. So the question becomes, why are the elite doing this?

A Twatterer (@JamesGaius) gets to one of the prime motivations, in my opinion:

Perhaps that is why (((they))) promote miscegenation. Produces more rootless people who don’t understand populism.

The elite fear populist revolts, as they should, and they intuitively know that populism is racial identity by another name, so in their globalist whore minds it makes sense to decouple their current nation of residence from its racial roots. Miscegenation is a permanent and devastatingly complete decoupling, forever severing the race ties that emotionally bind a people to their land. In this way they hope the resulting mulatto mudslide (which they will not allow to pollute their own families, of course) will bury any idyllic sentiment for heritage America, ushering in a glorious epoch of transnational progressivism managed by a hyperwealthy technocratic asborger consortium selling low quality baubles and “upgrades” to a mass of deracinated morons unable to mount effective countermeasures to preserve an Historic America culture that is now more foreign to them than the farthest-flung corners of the earth.

Other, mutually reinforcing motivations for elite (and sub-elite) promotion of mongrelization:

  • virtue signaling for upper middle class peer approval
  • backwards rationalization to accommodate a family member who has miscegenated
  • suppression of natural feelings of disgust toward miscegenation
  • moral posturing by comfortably untested Christians eager to prove their godliness
  • necessity driven by sexual choices
  • ego assuaging driven by the past sexual choices of one’s current lover
  • hostile outsider subversion cultivated by historical grievance toward the majority native stock
  • feels good man

The elite promotion of miscegenation has had mixed results; succeeding in ostracizing opponents and creating a social expectation of full-throated approval, but failing (until recently) to significantly change what really matters: mate choice in the free and liberated sexual market.

The social expectation pro-miscegenation successes of the elite War Against Nationhood are seen in late stage America surveys showing consistent and high White support for homophilia and miscegenation. But these public surveys are like negatives of people’s true feelings. A public poll inquiring for opinions on what is essentially one’s social status in the modern sexual market is likely to produce the opposite of privately-held truths and behavior. In reality, every parent secretly fears their kid turning gay or marrying out of the race. Even the shitlib parents fear it, (though they would never admit it to anyone, including themselves, but they will feel a limbic eddy of revulsion just the same).

In contrast, the mate market failures of the elite miscegenation project are evident in the historically very low rates of interracial dating and intermarriage, especially between Whites and blacks. The heart and the loins are not easily moved to desire what they don’t.

HOWEVER, there is Census Bureau data that proves the aggressive, malevolent, and unrelenting elite promotion of miscegenation (primarily via TV, movies, advertising, and mass importation of nonwhite migrants altering the demographic equation) is beginning to have its intended effect on the real world, practical romantic choices of Whites. In 1980, the share of intermarriages from the total married population was 3.2%. In 2010 it hit an all-time high of 8.4%.

Despite the interracial dating and marrying trends, the raw numbers for White race preservationists still look manageable. In 2010, only 9% of American Whites outmarried to a nonWhite, the lowest intermarriage rate of all racial groups in the US, (keep in the dankest part of your mind, this says nothing about interracial patterns of premarital fucking). However, the trends are unmistakable, and intermarriage is rising relatively quickly for all races in America, including Whites for whom their share of newlywed intermarried couples rose from 8.9% in 2008 to 9.4% in 2010.

My thinking is that a large nation can tolerate some crossing of the jizz streams at the margins of society. What it can’t tolerate is a full-scale, weaponized, anti-White, pro-miscegenation propaganda assault that year by year carves out a higher share of Narrative-duped Whites willing to commit the ultimate disloyalty of abruptly ending their genetic, cultural and aesthetic lineage. Perhaps love can conquer all….or, more likely, a politicized love can temporarily soothe the misgivings and percolating regrets that inevitably follow in the wake of racial seppuku.

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Noblesse oblige — the idea that the powerful, wealthy and fortunate are morally obligated to act magnanimously, particularly toward the less fortunate — is out of style, having been replaced with a quickness by noblesse malice, my coinage to describe a modern American nobility that not only disavows magnanimity, but actively seeks to make life more miserable for the lesser classes. Noblesse malice is what we get when the elite that actively hates the subjects under their rule are joined in their hatred by the institutions (media, academia, religions) traditionally tasked with exposing and indicting the elite’s depredations.

As Lawrence Auster once quipped, it’s their country now, and they are all in on it.

The Trumpening is a righteous airing of grievances by those despised non-elite Whites, channeled into one man who had the perspicacity to recognize an opportunity to give voice to the voiceless when he saw one. But Trump can’t do it all. Once he disposes of the House of Clinton, like the House of Cuck Bush before it, and ascends the HuWhite House throne, he’ll need ideas and goals to make America consolidate again. If the Trump era will have a lasting legacy, it will need to usher in the return of noblesse oblige.

Here are my suggestions for achieving that. The focus will be on the White middle, working, and lost classes, who have been the target for so long of so much unjustified leftoid hate machine churn and exploitation as boogeymen of a fantasized unique White evil which is psychologically projected from unreflective shitlibs who morally preen from behind the protection of inaccessible super zips.

STEP ONE: PROVIDE GUIDANCE

A revitalized noblesse oblige redirected to White lower classes would counsel them against:

wiggerism
crap food
miscegenation
drug addiction
single momhood
fat acceptance
despair

The above afflictions aren’t entirely the Fishtown Whites’ faults. Taking a wider perspective, SCALE (briefly, diversity + managerialism) enables the glut of garbage food that poisons the White lower classes. Miscegenation is pushed by propaganda ministers who for the darkest reasons revile White genetic and aesthetic continuity. Wiggerism is cultural devolution. Forgotten Whites have no one to look up to, so they look down. Fat acceptance is glorified by the feminist media. Despair-mongering drips from every New York Beta Times article.

Throwing a wrench into the gears of the rootless globality’s anti-White hate machine starts with elevating the Forgotten Whites from their despair, and that means telling them where they fail, why they fail, and how it doesn’t have to be that way.

STEP TWO: OFFER ASSISTANCE

A revitalized noblesse oblige would simultaneously offer their Forgotten White kin hope in the form of:

closed borders
mass deportations of illegals and their anchor sprog
a stop to middle eastern wars for democracy
trade protectionism
higher taxes on oligarchs and wealth capturing value transferers
meaningful infrastructure jobs programs
less Section Hate Diversity (and more homogeneity to help rebuild White communities)
affordable family formation policies
fewer malignant media and entertainment messages that undermine White heritage and achievement
curbs on financial shenanigans that prey on the less savvy

This is the most traditionally Democrat part of my three-step noblesse oblige renewal project, which sadly probably reads like a Satanic manual to today’s Democrats who have gone all-in on their ritualistic anti-White incantations.

STEP THREE: EXTEND APPRECIATION

This third step is perhaps the most important, because it acts as a corrective to what can seem the heavy-handed interference of the first two steps. A truly magnanimous nobility doesn’t forget that their putative lessers have worth of their own, and can themselves serve as exemplars of good character. The Forgotten Whites should be lauded for their unique virtues that any pre-post-America nobleman of conscience would esteem and likewise rue as lacking in the mores of his own decadent elitist class. These praiseworthy virtues include:

faith
family
grit
sacrifice
manly honor
uncorrupted femininity (their women had it once)
racial and cultural pride
tenacity
earthiness
generosity

These three steps taken together are what will make America great again. But maybe this is all asking too much of our current rootless globality.

In which case, bring out the gallows. And recline poolside as secession talk builds to a crescendo and hatreds spill over into vengeance.

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An early 30s woman I know through a lover likes to regale friends who will listen with tales of her sordid sex life. (If you want to know what happens to a woman’s vagina if she’s still single by her thirties, think of a flowering rose…mashed into a slab of ground beef.)

One of her adventures included a break-up with a caddish loafer, followed by a two month-long rebound “””boyfriend””” who was dumped one month after her ex-jerkboy sent her a two word text (accompanied by a thumbs up emoji) at 1am: “wut up”. Sometime during her fling with the rebound, she openly stated when he was out of earshot that he wasn’t a serious contender and that little did he know she was fucking her ex-jerkboy on the side (her ardor obviously reignited by his eloquent late-night text). Oh, and to add colorful detail to the story, since she “didn’t have those kinds of feelings” for the rebound boyfriend, she withheld her pussy from him and only permitted mouth and anal access.

To her ex-jerkboy’s credit, he wisely said no to getting back together in a relationship context.

Let me just preface here that the clearest view of women’s true sexual nature is from the vantage point of a man who has gotten “in”, in every sense of the preposition, with a crowd of attractive young women. You will hear, and sometimes see, and occasionally participate in, everything that the average bumbling beta male does not. If observed patterns at the individual level are indicative of general behavior at the societal level, then the view is a disillusioning one indeed for those who nurture a streak of quaint romanticism.

A thought intrudes: What would the sexual market look like if all men, appeasing betas included, had first-hand knowledge of women’s most intimate goings-on? Women have a vested interest in maintaining a quasi-lockdown on unsanitized information about their sexual behavior reaching the mass audience of potential male suitors. But if men had Pussy-vision — that is, if men could see women’s secret world through the cylindrical scope of their vaginas — how would the sexual market change?

Would, say, the rebound man in the story above, if Pussy-vision pinkly illuminated the world of women for him, have continued dating and investing his time and money and energy into this girl who refused him her vagina but gave it freely and furtively and concurrently to an ex who invested nothing in her that didn’t require more than a perfunctory text solicitation?

What about other female behaviors that most men, especially White men, consider distasteful or even depraved and evidence that the woman exhibiting them is unworthy of marriage, or a carton of Skittles on her birthday? How would the typical White man respond if he suddenly knew that the bubbly HR girl he has started dating once shacked up with a black guy who left her with a bruise and an abortion?I’ll cut to the lace.

These rhetorical questions answer themselves. If Pussy-vision were real, the sexual market would change radically, and not to the benefit of women or of society. You’d see a lot more pump and dumping, a lot fewer engagement rings and $40K wedding circuses, and increased market demand for sexbots, virtual reality porn, and libido-numbing interventions.

Alpha males would hesitate more to commit, greater beta males would kick out the last leg of their pussy pedestal and consequently score with more women, lesser beta males would shy from asking girls out even more than they already do, and omega males would, to women’s consternation, become bolder in asking for raunchy sex, not unjustifiably assuming that skanks who have taken it up the pooper on first dates might not have a properly functioning discretion filter.

These would be the immediate effects. Eventually, (if Pussy-vision were real), the wholesale abandonment of men from the LTR and marriage market would drive women’s behaviors in the direction of chasteness, modesty, low partner count, deference to male prerogative, and vulnerable femininity, (and away from mudsharking, you bet your ass). Hmm, not unlike how it used to be prior 1960 or thereabouts.

So, did pre-1960 American men have Pussy-vision? In a way, they did. No, they weren’t seeing the world close-up through women’s vaginas, but the culture was a healthy one that acted as a proxy Pussy-vision instrument, instructing men in the traits and behaviors of women who are worthy of long-term investment. Men didn’t need to spend years in the banging trenches to learn the true nature of women; they had fathers (and mothers!) and friends and institutions teaching them, forthrightly or round-aboutly, the shapely contours and tell-tale demeanor of the marriage-worthy woman.

What has happened since then is the warehousing of Pussy-vision out of sight of the everyday man. In a way, Pussy-vision is real, but now only for a select few alpha lords who have the key to the secret garden and a peen’s-eye-view of unkempt, chaotic, dizzyingly feral female sexuality. For the rest, the culture has not only jettisoned the concept of Pussy-vision, it actively works to promote the opposite of Pussy-vision:

Beaver-blindness.

Which would not be such a mentally handicapping thing if women were, in fact, worthy of investment. Beaver-blindness is the benefit of the doubt women receive when they are truly keeping up their end of the bargain: namely, don’t have an N-count that could rival a porn star’s and don’t delude yourself into thinking ass sex is an acceptable virginity-preserving substitute.

But Beaver-blindness is metadeath to the idealistic man living during an era of unrestricted female licentiousness, either as practiced or as imbibed by a go-girl propaganda machine that encourages and glorifies sexual amorphism and the taking on by women of the traditional roles and behaviors normally associated with male sexuality. Beaver-blindness is wilful castration when pussy is liberated from male expectation and discernment. It’s basically telling women, “Do what you will, I have neither the inclination nor the capacity to judge your worth as a lover and a partner in life.”

Naturally, women HATE HATE HATE nonjudgmental men who let them get away with the farm, (even as they tell social scientist surveyors and gullible male feminists the opposite). The only counter to liberated pussy is donning the Pussy-vision goggles and treating women exactly how they allow themselves to be treated. This will improve the enwhitened man’s love life and may, paradoxically, persuade women to reject the liberation of their sex.

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Commenter Yup wants us to notice something very telling about Trump’s wives.

Trump’s had 3 wives.

1st wife: 14 years

2nd wife: 4 years

3rd wife: 11 years and counting.

Guess which wife was American.

😂 I’ll take “4 years” for $5.5 billion, Alex.

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Lesbians are repulsive to look at. To gaze upon a lesbian is to scoop out one’s retinas as an offering to the sun god who will burn them to a crisp. Almost all of them are fat and ugly with bad skin and worse clothes. The “lipstick lesbian” is a trope of porn-addled dweebs; sure, they exist, (I’ve come across a few) but their numbers are vanishingly small set against the IMMENSE majority of lesbians who are the furthest thing from bangable any man could imagine.

The general impression of lesbiandom is blobbiness. Lesbian couples are two extra large pastry puffs meiotically becoming one super sized pastry puff. Or two circling gas giants gravitationally stripping each other of a pleasing personality.

Yet they Find, Meet, Attract, and Close…. looking as they do. Clearly, lesbians care not, or care very little, for appearance. Looks are somewhere below “can breathe without mechanical assistance” on the lesbian ledger of acceptable mate criteria.

Lesbians, then, tell us something true about straight women. Retention of crucial psychosexual characteristics of the heterosexual standard is common in both lesbians and gay men. Just as gay men behave sexually like straight men, except with damaged target designators and no female gold-plated pussy obstacles to outmaneuver, lesbians behave sexually like straight women with no need to arouse visually-oriented straight men.

In the heterosexual sex market, the opposite sex is like a check on each other, placing constraints on just how much a person can express his or her sexual nature. Women can’t let themselves go without risking solitude and men can’t satisfy their urge to sleep with thousands of women without achieving a high social or material status or a degree of skill in the crimson arts.

These opposite-sex constraints are missing or greatly mitigated among homosexuals. Gay male libido is just as visually-oriented as that of straight men’s, but is allowed to fully express because gay men are less protective of their cheap sperm than straight women are of their expensive eggs. Ugly gay men have it rough, but for most it’s a sexual circus with no safety net.

Think of straight women as boots on illegally parked straight men; a straight man with T levels above manlet metadeath would love to park in the tight space of every pretty girl he sees every day of his life. He can’t because the cooch collective has bolted the boot on his hot rod. If he manages to park in one of those spots, he’s staying there for a while. Gay men, otoh, are free to park their hivvy pork wherever they like and come and go as they please; very few gays will put the boot on gay boner. The gay male sexual market is a parking lot of receptive rectums*.

Lesbians, likewise, are essentially unconstrained straight female sexuality hypercharged, or rather hypocharged, to its inevitable conclusion in lesbian bed death (and tremendous levels of domestic violence). Dyke Fright is real because women, straight and homo alike, just don’t care as much about a sex partner’s looks as do straight and homo men about their sex partners’ looks.

Lesbian dishevelment and apparent apathy toward improving their appearance to please other lesbians is indirect proof that straight women place less emphasis on men’s looks than men place on women’s looks (and less than gay men place on other gay men’s looks). The difference between straight women and lesbians is that the former aren’t trying to find love with other women who will care as little about looks as they do.

scissister

*band name alert

PS Reader The Observer observes,

You can learn a lot by watching a lesbian work on her target paramour while out and about, too.

They push boundaries HARD. They know it works, and where the limits are, and walk right up to them. They understand the function of obligation in the female psyche.

Observe, and learn.

Obligation and submission are two powerful psychosexual undercurrents in the roiling sea of a woman’s soul. It’s a shame it goes so little remarked upon by mainstream social analysis. But that’s why the Chateau exists; a beacon of truth guiding the way through a dark wood. *heart bursts with vanity*

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Can we spare a moment for some brisk Realtalk that’s liable to send a certain contingent reaching for their smelling salts? Facials are hot. The giving of them, if you’re a man (or a man not named John Scalzi). The receiving of them, if you’re a woman (or a man named John Scalzi).

Check that, if you’re a certain kind of woman.

Depraved though facials may be, there’s no denying the act’s electrifying sexual charge. A facial is the Pollock splattered symbol of incontestable ownership by the man of his woman. It isn’t the Christian thing to do, but damn me if the devil’s bedroom blueprint isn’t a schematic leading straight to the jizz-soaked id.

The catch-22 is that the woman who will eagerly welcome into her face and upturned eyes the beatific brandishing of your white hot boner brew is not the woman you’d trust to leave alone for more than a week without a champion series labia lock set to impregnable.

It is the reality of woman: she who most excites your manly humors is she who least assures your manly honor.

My advice: If you love a woman, and you love the idea of giving her a facial, try it out. If she allows it, but only after expressing an initial and thereafter rolling reluctance, (i.e., she puts up some resistance and isn’t parting at the lips to try it again), she’s your long time gal instead of your good time gal.

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