Archive for the ‘Love’ Category

The leftoid legacy media (LLM) will never report fairly on Trump’s good deeds and bigly heart, so you’ll have to come here, to the Chateau, for the Authentic News.

I’ll assume everyone reading here has seen the YT video of PRESIDENT TRUMP’S live press conference, in which he perforated the usual suspects — rogue Derp Staters and the defanged and deteriorated shitlib media — with a rhetorical howitzer aimed calmly and even humorously at his targets.

As great as that Trump appearance could be fairly judged, there was an even better, and more important, video of him shot on the same day.

That appearance was Trump’s signing ceremony with WV coal miners, keeping his promise to roll back a burdensome and redundant Gay Mulatto regulation. It was an emotionally reverberating reminder of Trump’s big heart and why Heritage America loves him as their own.

Trump has a genuine and sincere common man’s touch. He may be a billionaire playboy President, but his heart is good ol’ boy and his soul salt of the earth. He’s a man’s man and a lady’s man without the hoverhand, a Vince McMahon-schooled showman and now the true leader of a revolution we may not deserve, but need more than ever. PBUT.


On the subject of Trump’s speaking style, as I wrote on Gab (@Heartiste):

My thoughts on Trump the extemporaneous speaker:
Not a master rhetorician.
Leaves killer points on the table too often.
Can veer off on tangents.

And none of that matters.
Because the man has balls.
That’s all it takes.
All it’s ever taken.

And one more thing….candor. Balls & candor. The two are often seen together.

“L. C.” objects,

Your wisdom is showing! Yet, as I agree with most of what you say, I must add that Trump is a master of one-liners, a RETORTICIAN if not a rhetorician as when I heard him say “low-life leakers” I burst out with laughter and enjoy his refreshing CANDOR.

L. C. is absolutely right. My complaints about Trump’s speaking style were in fact “backhanded insults”, meaning they were really praise. Trump’s lack of polish is his great strength; he’s candid, earthy, and funny, and that resonates with Americans even if it bugs snobby, conniving Acela elites. “Retortician”. I like it.

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…is a great day!

Today is the first nationwide “Day Without Beaners” protest siesta.

In cities around America, thousands of construction companies, restaurants and other businesses are bracing for “A Day Without Immigrants,” a combination boycott/strike that highlights the contributions of immigrants to U.S. business and culture.

The movement is a response to President Trump’s immigration agenda, which includes a pledge to seal the U.S. border with Mexico and a travel ban on citizens of seven majority-Muslim countries.

I got up and stretched and went about my business and drank in the sun and realized why it was such a great day…..all-White English-speaking staff served me, competent and friendly White faces greeted me, White cashiers didn’t fumble my purchase, White construction workers joked in that familiar way that only Whites can understand, White women blessed my field of view with a pleasing aesthetic only they could provide, and even the sun seemed a little Whiter and brighter up in the White-blue sky.

Next thing you’ll tell me the wages of vast swaths of American workers will go up.

I wish every day could be a day without immigrants!

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Reader tomjones copypastas a plaintive cry for attention from a single lady on Valentine’s Day.

It’s valentines tomorrow . This is the first valentine being single so I thought I am sure there are other singles too . If anyone wants to meet for coffee and just talk about life and things message me.
Please include ur info when u messge

The above paragraph is a lady on craigslist. Discuss….

More American women than ever are single well into their 20s and 30s. V Day used to be a time for couples to rejoice in their love, but the corporate holiday has had to bend to the new reality of pump and dumps, flings, the extended cock carousel ride, delayed marriage, and late in life marriage. So V Day has morphed into a convenient, plausibly deniable excuse for these future cat ladies to crassly advertise themselves in the hope they’ll get banged out by cads or showered with sexless sympathy feelz by gullible white knight betas all too willing to drop a bennie on expensive cocktails so that they can trudge homeward with full aching balls after doing their last ditch V-date duty and cheering up a studio apartment slut who’s experiencing a bout of regret and timetable disorientation in between cock hops.

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I wasn’t sure whether to put this human interest story (h/t reader A.P.) in a “Shitlord of the Week” or “Alpha of the Week” post, so I decided to skip either option and focus on the lightly embedded moral tale of this Texas man’s life:

The jerkboy may be hated, but he is never ignored nor unloved.

After Leslie Ray Charping died at age 75, his family decided to run a brutally honest obituary eulogizing the “evil” late relative.

The family wrote that Charping “leaves behind two relieved children,” in addition to “countless other victims including an ex wife, relatives, friends, neighbors, doctors, nurses and random strangers.”

The jerkboy may come
the jerkboy may go
But the jerkboy is rarely
if ever alone.

His death came at an age that was “29 years longer than expected and much longer than he deserved,” according to the obituary on the Carnes Funeral Home site.

At least he was remembered. Many boring betas go to their graves leaving no trace of themselves in the collective consciousness.

“At a young age, Leslie quickly became a model example of bad parenting combined with mental illness and a complete commitment to drinking, drugs, womanizing and being generally offensive,” the obituary read.

I bet Leslie left behind a lot of broken hearts. Hearts which still secretly yearn for his love.

The obituary goes on to list his hobbies which included abusing his family and expediting trips to heaven for his pets. He was also interested in fishing, which “he was less skilled with than the previously mentioned.

Now that’s just bad form.

“Leslie’s life served no other obvious purpose, he did not contribute to society or serve his community and he possessed no redeeming qualities besides quick [witted] sarcasm, which was amusing during his sober days,” the obituary read.

Ah, there it is. Did you catch that? The sound of those hurt by Leslie who nevertheless, even in his “deserved” death, can’t help but fondly reminisce about his charming company. The jerkboy is like that; one moment stomping on your heart, the next lighting up your dull life. A force of personality. An anti-hero. A blast of heat in a cold world.

No services will be held for him.

He served himself in life.

“Leslie’s passing proves that evil does in fact die and hopefully marks a time of healing and safety for all,” the obituary concluded.

“Healing and safety”: the words of an alpha widow rationalizing the blessings of her post-Leslie bored, drama-free life.

To all the Leslie Ray Charpings of America: we lovers of women and grabbers of pussy celebrate your life and honor your passing in the hope that your kind will not disappear from weird, wild America at a time when we need you most.

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Commenter cortesar writes — while on the topic of globohomoist John Bercow’s slut wife and his cowardly acquiescence to their rotten marriage — of the paradoxical retreat from love underway by the very equalist leftoids who wave the banner of love aloft as their rallying cry.

There is no doubt in my my mind that if George Orwell was alive today he would have been on our side
I could not think of any quote that would come close to this one in depicting today atomized soulless globalist world by simply contrasting it to a principle that love is not opposite of hate but of indifference
The whole concept of family, community and nation has been for thousand years based on the idea that love means choice, that loves means discrimination
that loves means preference
To love means to choose and therefore there is nothing further from love than indifference


Cortesar, and Orwell, are right, and as usual shitlibs will have to deal with another hot flash of COGDIS when they encounter this Orwell quote that aligns more closely with Maul-Right truths than it does with their vapid #LoveWins hashtag attenuation of human nature.

Buried in the Chateau tomes of Everlasting Knowledge of the Mortal and the Transcendent is the truism that Indifference, not Hate, is the opposite of Love.

Anti-White leftists who wail and rend their H&M garments for more of the wretched refuse to teem toss’d upon America’s shores are as far removed from being champions of love as their sainted mulatto obama was from his Kenyan biological father. Indifference to whoever squats in one’s homeland is a political act of self-love; it’s certainly no love that anyone but the haughty poseur would recognize as such.

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First, can I just say how UPLIFTING (heh) it is to look at First Lady Melania instead of Harambe Trapezius? A guy could get used to this.

Second, every man who’s lived a day in his life knows that look of a woman rocked by a silent, seismic tingle of love rushing on a current of lust. Right at the moment Herr Trumperica assumed the most powerful throne in the world, a barely-contained supernova of admiration and primal desire escaped Melania’s poise. Sex for only her man drips from her gaze in this photo.

If optics were everything in politics, Americans have the distinct pleasure of jettisoning a sooty smoggy reduced visibility for a gleaming, glorious, crystal clear vista that extends to the farthest horizon. The stars shine in all their multitude tonight.

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The Neediness Scale

Love is the alibi of neediness, and neediness is the accomplice of love. The two are rarely without each others’ company, yet they are an irascible, codependent pairing of old friends that would do one another a lot of good if they were separated and communicating via time-delayed diary entries.

It’s a short hop from self-directed purpose to neediness. A dash of neediness seasons the motivational stew, but too much spoils it right quick. We all know variants on the aphorisms “the hungry wolf gets fed last”, “we want what we can’t have”, and “women love a challenge”.

All true, and it’s why one of the first instructions at CH was to implore beta males to shore up their inner game by banishing the specter of neediness.

But beta males aren’t the only victims of crippling neediness, and it’s important that those who tend to gather their life lessons from the ego chamber internet instead of from the human world

The CH Neediness Scale, from most needy to least needy:

  1. sexless men
  2. loveless women
  3. sexless women
  4. loveless men

My chart is borne out in the real world, where it is common to see (and commonly agreed upon) that sexless men (blue pilled betas and blue balled omegas) are the neediest creatures, often sabotaging any chances they get in the dating market by chasing too soon and crashing too hard when their lust-love isn’t immediately and similarly reciprocated.

But then things get interesting. The next neediest group is the loveless women. Iconic representatives include your Wall-imminent single sex and the city ladies, your BPD headcases, your lonely fatties and fuglies, and your cock accumulating slut machines. Women over the long-run value love more than sex, give or take a few breathless moments getting buried under a tingle avajanche. The woman who is a loser in love (no matter how many cocks she’s coitally collared) will get more bitter, unfeminine, and emotionally damaged as the years grind her down. See: Amanjaw Marcuntte. There’s a lot of rueing in spinster nation.

The second to least needy group is the sexless women. Unwilling sexlessness — or what we in the caulk-gine community call incel — is rare among non-obese women of non-autistic child-bearing age. If a healthy, height-weight proportionate young woman wants sex badly, she can get it. She may not like the morning-after feeling, but that’s the sort of long-term thinking about accountability and consequences which the airier sex is ill-equipped to undertake. Therefore, actual involuntary sexless women who are worth sexing are rare, but they do exist; usually though their sexlessness has at its source, not a personal failing that turns off men, but an exquisitely conjured mental image of the perfect man that prevents the sexless woman from ever conceding her cooch to any man who falls short of her fantasy by even a cat’s whisker. The sexless woman can tolerate her condition for quite a while longer than can the sexless man, which is why she’s not often prone to the sort of self-sabotaging theatrics that are the desperately horny beta male’s stock in trade.

Finally, the least needy of the neediness groups is the loveless man. A CH maxim would serve us well here:

Maxim #80: For women, sex is validation of love. For men, love is validation of sex.

Sex validates that a woman loves a man, and that a man loves her. Women give their sex because they feel in love with a man. Or they give their sex because they want a man to fall in love with them. One night stands aren’t the hard exceptions you’d think, either. The same internal bargaining exists whenever a woman presents her most valuable asset for purchase. Inversely, women are susceptible to thinking that a man who fucks them must also love them, which is true enough to sustain their delusions.

Love validates that a man desires a woman’s sex, and that a woman sexually desires him in kind. Men give their love because they have fallen in love with a woman they love fucking. Or men give their love because they want a woman to keep giving them sex. Inversely, men are susceptible to thinking that a woman who loves them must also want to fuck them, which is true enough to sustain their delusions.

The scone code truth is that men who swim in pussy can go a LONG time without love, and not feel any ill-effects from it. Love is the perfect transcendence from the banal, and every man is more a romantic than the average woman, but unlike women for whom love is notarization of their self-worth and a green light on a future together, men receive their external validation primarily from internal penetration. Any validation of a man’s sexuality is already complete by the time penis is waylaid in vagina. Love, after that, is icing on the pound cake of a cad’s leavened ego.

Still, sexually fulfilled men can become love-parched; one sometimes sees this in aging players who never settled down and have lots of war stories with which to console themselves during bouts of fleeting loneliness. And however good the pussy is, love makes it that much better. In this way love injects meaning into all the sex the womanizer enjoys, by adding an extra layer of limbic fluffing. A sexed man feels on top of women; a loved man feels on top of the world. Furthermore, the loved man gains a sense of security over his sexual destiny, knowing that his penis is craved by the woman who loves him as a nearly divine object of spiritual commingling and a meaty medium of soulful consummation.

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