Archive for the ‘Maxims’ Category

Think about the ecumenical change in society that, intuitively, must be happening with the widespread use of various hindbrain altering drugs, like the Pill and antidepressants. This is a change in biochemistry unparalleled in human evolutionary history. It’d be a miracle of serendipity if there weren’t blowback.

A reader surmises,

Great site. Good advice. But …

There is something to be said for all the anti-depressants/mood stabilizers/whatevers that women are taking these days. And I mean, a LOT of women on are on these psych drugs. You’re asking me so what, right? Well …

A lot of a man’s behavior toward women rests on the presumption (truth) that women are insecure and may get depressed at times, and when they do, they choose a man that has been solid for them. They either choose one, confide in the one they “love” or return to one. BUT, with these drugs, I think a lot of their negative feelings are prevented, making them less vulnerable.

It’s something I’ve noticed among professional women. Sure, maybe my game isn’t what it was, but I think it’s worth addressing. Women’s drugs are changing the game a little bit.

An interesting hypothesis we have here, and one that may go a ways to explaining why there is a growing impression among American men that their women are becoming manlier, sluttier, present-time oriented, and all-around less provocatively charming.

Here’s a lovefact sure to torque a feminist’s fat hamster into a tailspin:

Maxim #27: Beyond beauty, a woman’s attractiveness to men is partly a function of her feminine vulnerability, or her ability to mimic feminine vulnerability.

Corollary to Maxim #27: Men are turned off by overconfident, assertive, proudly self-sufficient women.

Yep, despite the delusional claptrap that feminists want the world to believe, men don’t swoon for women who act like men. Non-manboobed men with hanging testicles don’t, at any rate. Invulnerability is not sexy on women.

Men, at least K-selected men from the frigid Northlands where the cold winds blow and nothing grows for six months, are hard-wired with a protection instinct. We want to guard the carriers of our kingly posterity.

Evolution, therefore, has ensured that men respond viscerally to beautiful, weak women needing protection. A woman in need rallies a man’s ready seed.

Enter antidepressants. Suddenly women all over the sub-veneer tribal landscape are feeling invincible, unstoppable, and perfectly capable on their own. “No means no, creeper!” The manly protective (beta) instinct which warms the hearts of biochemically natural women leaves SSRI drugged-up simulacra of women feeling indifferent, even antagonistic, to the same signals of stoically masculine benefaction.

Multiply this effect a hundredfold in the homeland of the SWPL: The big blue whitening cities of the coasts, where every vibrantly atomized lawyercunt and her bovine cockblock are hopped up on happy happy happy pills. No joke, I’d bet 80% of Obama Country college-grad white chicks are dazed and confused with the help of Big Father Pharma. That percentage jumps to 99% when you expand the age range to include spinsters with two or more cats aka alpha male substitutes.

All successful game requires, in lesser or greater dose, the deployment, consciously or otherwise, of psychological tactics which raise the man’s relative status, lower the woman’s relative status, or both. This is a fact of the nature of the sexes, and it exists because the lifeblood of lust is fed to men and women by different veins. What excites a woman — the challenging company of a higher value, dominant man — is different than what excites a man — the company of a coy, vulnerable, pretty woman. You can rail to the ends of the earth about this fallen state of humanity, but you will never change it, not as long as there are two sexes evolved with differing reproductive goals.

It makes sense, then, that drugs which create a disturbance in the sexual polarity force would also have a downstream effect on courtship, both the traditional and the modern game styles of mate acquisition. A less vulnerable-feeling woman is a woman less receptive to beta provider game, and — this is getting deep into CH theory of modern dating dynamics territory — more receptive to sexy alpha bounder game.

An artificially happy and confident woman is, in short, a no-game-having beta male’s worst nightmare.

(A few of you wags might say that SSRIs are helping turn the US from a Euro mating market to an African mating market, where sky high self-esteem absent any supporting evidence is the norm.)

As a visionary acolyte of Le Chateau, you want to know how to make this new social reality work for you. (Some of you want to change it back to where it was before it turned wicked, but that is a concern for wise old men with rerouted energies.) A good start is dread game, which is the seducer’s answer to invulnerable women.

Some other proto-men, like the scalzied followers of male feminists, take the opposite tack, and submit themselves completely to the whim of Tsarina Bombas, in hopes, apparently, that their utter prostration would excite in women the pity fuck compulsion before it triggers their active repulsion reflex.

A specific skill of modern seduction, as channeled through game, will therefore need to be (sadly from a certain perspective) the ability to evoke, in pinprick psychological jabs, sadness, fear, worry and self-doubt in the Happy Harlots of Late Hour America. If you lack this skill, you’ll find more cynical men stealing your lamb meat off your white linened table.

Or, you could just wait out the coming collapse in your Galtian gulch, and watch the feckless loverboys starve in the streets live-streamed, as the newly vulnerable women rediscover the value of your warm hearth. But by that time, you’ll have stuccoed the entirety of your masturbatorium.

The antidepressant ruination of American women is a theory worth investigating, particularly in light of observational evidence in favor. Perhaps enterprising readers will unearth studies which connect the dots. Or perhaps they’ll just say “what the fuck”, and give the Supergirls a double dose of ego-smashing sexytime.

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Anonymous (choose a handle you lazy bum) lists the stringent copulation criteria that would need to be met for a woman (or her hamster) to admit that the sex she was having “counts”.

Unless a girl has:

1. vaginal intercourse

2. with a guy

3. multiple times

4. over multiple days

a. that are not in a row

b. but are not separated by more than a month from each other

5. in her region of residence in her home country,

6. not during spring break or another vacation

7. while sober from alcohol and drugs, including legal prescriptions

“it doesn’t count”.

General Social Survey data experts are baffled that the face-to-face questioning the GSS utilizes yields inaccurate results about women’s sexual habits.

Maxim #101: The sluttier the girl, the more noticeably pregnant she’ll need to be before she admits to having had sex that “counts”.

Corollary to Maxim #101: Even then…. “Oh, it’s the way the shirt fits.”

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Men have a lot to say about fatherhood and imparting the values and knowledge that will assist sons (and daughters) in navigating a rapidly decaying culture.

Reader AAB writes:

The problem with fathers not teaching their sons about masculinity is that those sons grow up to become emasculated men, then fathers. A few generations down the line, your entire male population has been raised entirely by women (whilst the emasculated fathers were at work), and you end up like Japan, full of Hikkomori (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hikikomori), Grass Eaters, and Incest (http://seedofjapheth.wordpress.com/2012/12/11/japanese-incest/).

In a similar vein, anon writes:

The problem is that game has radically changed in the last 50 years. Your father’s info is obsolete in the bloody pulp that cultural marxism has left of our culture. Modern young women are LOL pathological narcissists who are nearly impossible to talk to without inducing a headache (not the case 50 years ago), so Pa isn’t going to provide the knowledge to work with them. This site is a “how to” for MODERN women with their pathologies.

To quote a british 13 year old in a sexting article yesterday “When you grew up you asked a girl to kiss, today you ask them for sex.”

John O’Sullivan, a former National Review editor, has a First Law which states that:

Any institution not explicitly conservative will become liberal with the passage of time.

Sounds about right. I think the same formulation can apply to fathers and sons and the active sexual market.

Heartiste Maxim #70: Any son not explicitly taught about the ways of women by an experienced father will become more beta under the influence of his mother.

Corollary to Maxim #70: A society of ascendent female academic, workforce, political and family influence necessarily emasculates its sons and masculinizes its daughters.

The urge to pedestalize women seems to be innate in many men, and the absence of strong fatherly guidance away from such sappy, self-defeating thinking is a luxury only a few dark triad demonic spawns of single moms can tolerate without suffering total emotional castration. A father who neglects his duty to teach his son all he knows of women — the good the bad and the hypergamous — or who teaches him the wrong lessons, or who leaves the teaching of such valuable lessons to the mother, is a tragic participant in the slow but steady betatization of his son. Don’t be that father.

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What if the seduction is sincere?

Maxim #1: Game is learned charisma, streamlined seduction. Game is as sincere as its practitioner’s intent.

Game is the honest presentation of an idea, a thought, a suggestion in a way that makes it likely to be believed by the object of desire. If game is manipulation, or cheating, then so is all art, for which the object of desire is the viewer’s or listener’s engagement with its message. Do you really believe art is cheating?

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Players and unaffiliated men who labor to pass on the Good Word of Game usually admonish neophytes that borderline uncomfortable numbers of approaches need to be made in order to become proficient at pickup. You’ve got to get out there and talk to more women than you would normally do in the course of a nondescript day.

This message is a good one. You won’t get good at the crimson arts until you’ve put in some real world practice interacting with lots of different women. The exact number is irrelevant; whether it takes you ten or one thousand approaches to improve doesn’t change the undeniable reality that very few men have the ability to go from video gaming malaise to WunderJuan on their first approach.

You could say that the approach mentality, at least during the learning curve stage, is a core principle of game.

There’s one other core game principle that I don’t see mentioned very much, if at all, in the pickup literature. In my view, it’s just as important a principle as approaching girls enough times to trespass beyond your comfort zone. That principle is the “find and foment her flaws” theory.

The idea is simple. Every woman you meet, from friend to love prospect to the barest acquaintance, and every woman who crosses your field of visual inspection, will be subject to your exceedingly judgmental eye. You will search, find and declare to yourself her flaw or flaws. If propriety and privacy allows it, you will verbalize her flaw so that it may become cemented in your wavering cortex and banish all doubt of the flaw’s authenticity. It is a well-kown fact among the big-toothed motivational speaker circuit that saying aloud slogans of self-encouragement or life goals helps the chanter sculpt corporeal heft to his dreams.

So, for example, you see a woman in the mall riding an escalator. Her sundress flounces insouciantly from above you. An incipient boner stirs. But this time, instead of allowing your beta twerpitude the run of your skullcase and straining to catch imagined glimpses of panty, you silence the dork force and, with proud stentorian innerauthority, jot a solid mental note of her larger-than-ideal thighs. Safe distance permitting, you might even rumble in a dampened voice to yourself, “Hm, thunder thighs. Too much speckle.”

You will enact this devious scheme for every attractive and not-so-attractive woman who has the misfortune of falling prey to your daggered gaze. Only the obvious sexual market losers of femaledom — the grossly obese, the crassly ugly, the desiccated old — will be exempt, for their flaws are so prominently obscene they need no reminding nor rooting.

What is the purpose of Principle #2? To balance gender sheets?

Certainly, you could argue with strong evidence that women are particularly unforgiving of men’s flaws, in the private if not in the public, being as how they are slaves to a much more powerful hypergamous force that excels at weeding out stellar-lite suitors with extreme prejudice. A little harsh judgment from you is just giving women a taste of the moldy bread they daily give to men.

But, no, that’s not the purpose, as vengefully titillating as that seems. The purpose is purely practical. The finding and fomenting of women’s flaws conditions the beta male mind to accept the attainability of women, and to discard the reflexive sanctification of women. No master seducer who ever lived believed even one woman was unattainable by him, nor that any woman was a flawless vessel of purity. The seducer loves women, but his love is vast enough to revel in women’s flaws. And that is why he wins.

The beta male who conditions himself thus, by his efforts to discover the flaws in women kept hidden to him by the shadow of his turgid lust cast around his vision, will slowly feel the power and the strength of the Attitude, that indomitable voice that rises like the Great Scrotum from the pubic patch and delivers with valedictorian presumption the message that no woman is out of reach or free of exploitable insecurities, the exploiting of which by a savvy man she herself would be ashamed to admit thrills her to the clitbone.

Returning to escalator girl, here are some more examples of flawmobbing.

– skewed eyes
– narrow hips
– rumpled blouse
– misshapen boobs
– nip/tuck victim
– manhands
– roo pouch
– clown feet
– incipient hump
– jug ears
– wasted calves
– bow-legged
– flabby arms
– pigeon-toed
– broad shouldered
– excessive peach fuzz
– asymmetric nostrils

I can already hear the gripers. “But I just saw the hottest chick ever and she looked PERFECT! I couldn’t find anything wrong with her.”

There is always something wrong with a girl, no matter how beautiful. You may have to dig a little deeper, but you’ll find her thermal exhaust port with a practiced keen eye. Note that any of the above can easily apply to the hottest girl you have ever seen. That’s the beauty of the flawfinding mission: it unearths the normally overlooked blemishes scattered among a girl’s mien that her general beauty tends to obscure to men. If you socialize with a girl and gain insight into her personality, you have even more data from which to devise withering, silent judgments.

Once you have gotten reliable at noticing and promoting women’s flaws, their beauty will no longer hold such paralyzing power over you. Conditioned to emphasize a woman’s worst and attenuate her best, you will become a cad machine, irresistible to the fairer sex who will react shaken from their stupor by your dispassionate demeanor and feel the threat of your pervasive critical eye with senses aflame.

Maxim #30: Ignore a woman’s flaws at your peril. They are the key to reconfiguring your perception, and thus her attainability.

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Maxim #101: For most women, five minutes of alpha is worth five years of beta.

The importance of the above maxim can’t be overstated. The way to a woman’s heart is through her id.

There’s a male analogue as well.

Maxim #102: For most men, five minutes of a younger, hotter woman beats five years of older, uglier women.

Younger women are, barring a few conspicuous exceptions, better looking, better smelling and better feeling than older women. Career goals not achieved to the contrary notwithstanding, younger women are alpha females. The man who has tasted the succulent flesh of an 18 year old cutie will never again look at, or feel toward, older women with the same excitement, urgency or romanticism. He has been corrupted. His memories, lucid, almost palpable, of intimacies with younger women, will dominate. Five minutes in bed with a young babe will linger longer in his cortical penis extension than five years with an assortment of older women.

James Hooker has doomed himself. But it’s a doom that most men would welcome with open arms, if they could. His relationship — loving, tender, sexual — with an 18 year old babe means, should he find himself single again, that few women his age will satisfy him the way his current younger lover does. An older woman Hooker’s age who wants to extract commitment from him, or even a simulacra of lovingkindness, is going to have her work cut out for her. A man’s memory of an 18-year-old is a more powerful competitor to her than the attentions of real live women her own age.

Men like Hooker, men who have experience bedding younger women, and whose libidos are rocket fueled by powerful memories of young woman love, if they are single, go blankly into that dating field of cougars and cynical spinsters, depressed over the substandard offerings, forever seeking to recapture the intensely pleasurable magic of their time with their lithe lolitas. Their sheer disgust at the socially approved alternatives, and their unbreakable confidence at having inspired the love of much younger women, will help propel them back into the arms of charming coeds. They are men on a mission, and they won’t be stopped, not even by marriage.

Men like this live by one rule: if the cunnilingus feels like a chore, she’s too old.

As a one night stand with an alpha male can skew a woman’s expectations for life, so can a fling with an 18-year-old hottie skew a man’s expectations for life. But there is a critical difference in the sexes regarding expectation levels. It requires little effort for an average-looking woman to spread her legs and permit an alpha male to dump a fuck in her; for men are, on the whole, the less discriminating sex, and will rarely pass up easy lays with normal-sized women when they are offered. A woman’s ego, inflated from birth, will mistakenly regard the alpha’s fly-by-night attentions as validation of her relationship worthiness to men of his caliber. She will, in time, learn a bitter lesson.

In contrast, it requires yeoman effort, whether through the accumulation of wealth and status or through charm and dominance, for an average-looking older man to persuade an 18-year-old babe to relinquish her sex to him. This effort and resulting success is evidence that he has what it takes to consistently attract younger women and have relationships with them. When in the company of younger women, his mate value is self-evident. Thus, such a man’s expectations are more in line with reality than are the slutty woman’s expectations whose value is rightly measured not by how much cock she can hoover, but by how many high value men she can convince to stick around and fall in love with her.

Nevertheless, a continent full of average-looking, non-obese women riding the alpha cock carousel for stretches of their lives, and older men openly ignoring women their age to pursue their desire for the company of younger women, means an end to mutually nourishing beta male-slender female relationships and societally stabler older male-older female pairings. This is probably not going to turn out well for a monogamy-based modern civilization like ours, but it seems the rule that civilizations in the final spasms of decay revert to more primal norms of self-actualizing sexual and romantic fulfillment.

As always, I’ll be poolside.

Corollary to Maxim #102: A beautiful, slender older woman will be a better lay than a plain, fatter younger woman.

This corollary has more relevance today than it would have in the past, because enormous numbers of what would normally be very fuckable young babes have put themselves out of contention by getting fat and gross. Thanks to the Western obesity epidemic, there is a glimmer of hope for the yoga-toned 35-year-old who retains the feminine charms of her younger self. Chin up, ladies, and keep praying that your younger rivals gorge themselves on artisanal cupcakes and 150gram sugar-infused coffee drinks!

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There’s nothing funnier than lonely, unloved feminists stewing in their angostura bitters. They bring out the sadist in me.

Down with couple-talism!

A reader forwarded a link to a website called Occupy Valentine’s Day, created by an ur-feminist who is the executive editor of Feministing.

[V Day] puts pressure on couples to be a certain way, it privileges one type of love (think heteronormativity!) and it makes single people feel incomplete.

Like most outcasts nursing grudges, she has a thing against normal people behaving in normal ways.

we can use Valentine’s Day to raise awareness about the limited ways we think about romance.

In the past, petulant sophists like this would be ignored and allowed to fade into obscurity. Today, they get a platform and a sympathetic media treatment.
When the degenerate is elevated to a voice of wisdom
and the customary and ordinary subverted
confusion arrests the strongest hearts
until weakness is to excellence inverted.

The goal of the OVD website, near as a sane person can tell, is a hodgepodge advocacy of the usual rainbow coalition and femcunt agenda crap, plus a general lashing out at love and anything that smacks of romantic gestures shared between a man and a woman (romantic gestures between man and man, woman and woman, and spinster and cat are perfectly fine, though).

Blog about how traditional ideas of romance perpetuate gender inequalities and hurt people of all genders

If taking my girl out to a romantic nighttime spot for heavy petting under the silver moon manages to perpetuate gender inequalities and make life miserable for the rejects who post on Occupy Valentine’s Day, I consider that a successful two-fer.

Have a sexy conversation by candlelight with your partner about structural inequity

You think this is a parody, but then you remember that feminists have no sense of humor. All real, all retarded.

Commit to never settling for anyone who is not good enough for you just because you are afraid to spend another Valentine’s Day alone

Ever notice how women with the fewest reasons to feel entitled are often the ones who most loudly proclaim their refusal to settle?

These are just a few ways we can use Valentine’s Day to raise awareness about the limited ways we think about romance.

Maxim #210: If you are using a romantic holiday as a pretext to raise awareness instead of raise erections, you are probably a fat loser.

Celebrating love is wonderful and romance can be great too. But we don’t need corporations to dictate how we should do it, a mainstream media chastising us for not doing it right or traditional ideas touted over and over by our friends and family.

Hey, I’ve got not problem with skipping out on the corporatized aspect of V-Day. I’ll be the first guy to tell men they don’t need cards and chocolate to inspire girls to feel love. Nothing kills romance faster than dreary obligation. The difference between me and this feminist loser is that I don’t make a capital case out of traditional romantic gestures as being somehow symbolic of hatred for weirdos, dweebs, fatties and fuglies who can’t get a date.

That shit is oppressive and hurts us more than helps.

You can pinpoint the exact moment in history when the West began its decline as the moment when we started caring what spiteful losers think. A little oppression and hurtfulness is a healthy society’s cleansing mechanism. Time to reoccupy the icy wastelands with society’s waste product.

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