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Archive for the ‘Psy Ops’ Category

Chateau archives contain limitless wisdom, including the idea that hitting on girls while you’re battling a hangover can do wonders for your pickup success. There’s a related personal observation which I want to share with the assembled. Dressing like a slob and stinking of barn animals is an oddly effective means of hurdling chronic approach anxiety.

Very few men don’t feel at least a little anxiety in the moment between seeing a cute girl and thinking over how he’ll introduce himself. (We call those men lacking any approach anxiety, “psychopaths”. Or, “blacks”.) Obviously, some men will be more anxious than others. For these sufferers, a mental or behavioral short circuit that bypasses their anxiety modules can mean the difference between intractable incel and endless samplings from the poon poon platter.

The based brain trick works like this: Dress slovenly before going out. I’m talking white tube socks and sandals, jorts, and a ratty t-shirt with holes in the pits. Top with greasy hair. Talk to girls with flirtatious intent, making no sincere feint toward excusing your disheveled appearance. As on any day when you approach numerous girls, you’ll likely experience some female skepticism*. But unlike other times, you’ll have a scapegoat to blame for their caution*. The grist of the cognitive gimmick is your psychological instinct to pin the blame for any romantic thwarting on the most obvious culprit: your slovenliness. The benefit of this ego detour is that it grooms you away from listening to that inner voice that loves to blame your strike-outs with women on your personality or looks.

If you have a conspicuous and largely superficial fault to help explain to yourself this or that stillborn pickup attempt, then you won’t feel approach anxiety as strongly as you would if you looked sharp and thus had only the less malleable aspects of your character to blame. Do this enough times, and the quieting of your anxiety will start to stick, becoming something of a permanent fixture of your resting emotional state.

Affected slovenliness makes approaching girls more like a fun game, with little on the line that can’t be answered with a wry smirk and a raised eyebrow… “Oh, it’s my pit-stained t-shirt, isn’t it? I always forget it isn’t a hit with the ladies.”

* It’s good to reframe women’s natural leverage in the sexual market — their sexual prerogative — into a less loaded term. So stop saying a girl “rejected” you. Say instead she was skeptical or cautious or tentative. Word choice matters. You can add sting or remove sting with the words you choose to describe your seduction adventures.

FYI the greatest variable influencing any one man’s success with women is his BOLDNESS.

CH Maxim #21: In the quest for romance, boldness overcomes a lot of personal flaws. Timidity swamps a lot of personal virtues.

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There’s no question the Trump Temptresses are more attractive than the Hillary Harpies. The photographic evidence accumulates with every rally and selfie. Trump women flaunt hourglass figures and bubble with estrogen. Hillary Hags bomb the retinas with volumetric flask-like waistlines and attitudes dripping caustically with androgen overload.

So it is with no surprise that supporters of TheCunt can be so easily triggered merely by holding up a mirror to them. They know their visages say more about their worldview than any 12,000-word New York Beta Times article could glowingly conceive for them.

CH Maxim #200: Pointing out a feminist’s masculine, ugly physiognomy or a manlet’s androgynous physiognomy is reliable shorthand for their politics.

(One Twatterlord put it pith-wise, “You can tell a man’s politics from his upper body strength. A woman’s by her waist size.”)

Swinging this around to the topic of Game and politics, reader Freereel forwards,

[H]ere’s a great strategy cribbed from the blog Poseidon Awoke:

“Let’s face it, Bernie and Hillary have a terrible branding problem: their supporters are just not attractive. Have you seen Hillary supporters? Lena Dunham is a perfect example. Yuck.

On the other hand, beautiful women love Trump and masculine men want to be Trump. I’ve even seen some predictions of a Trump-inspired baby-boom, which is certainly possible.

As I’ve said before, I spend some of my time in the Trenches meme-ing things into reality. And a Trump presidency is one of those things. I’ve also been learning from Vox Day about the difference between rhetoric and dialectic. When someone attacks Trump with some nonsense charge, a dialectician will attempt to counter with a logical argument, facts and reason. However, humans are rarely persuaded by dialectic. Humans are persuaded by rhetoric. So, I have a new kill shot for those who attack Trump. I post a picture of a hot Trump supporter.

Because Hillary and Bernie supporters are cat-ladies and low-T bronies, they are unattractive, so they have no response. Images like these arouse normal males to want the girl that supports Trump. It’s just animal instinct. Women want to be like the women that men want, so they want to be this girl. This is rhetoric in action. No words, just a picture of a hot Trump supporter. Luckily, there are millions of hot Trump supporters.

It’s a kill shot.

Pickup and politics are kissing cousins. Both utilize the principles of seduction to win the hearts of women and of voters. One paramount Game concept — amused mastery — is the courtship equivalent of meme-worthy rhetoric. In practice, amused mastery manifests as quippy retorts to women’s shit tests, or quasi-juvenile observations of a woman or her surroundings, or dismissive indifference to a woman’s tantrums and dramatics. This is the stuff of ZFG alpha males, and women LOVE LOVE LOVE it.

Amused mastery in the political sphere would appear as a photo of a fat bluehair Hillary voter or a raging, arm-flapping SJW feminist in id-carving response to some shitlib regurgitating boilerplate shitlibbery. The brutalist juxtaposition is a nuke to her anti-antifragile ego. It’s like when a potential date you’re texting starts asking you what you can do for her and talks about the cool guys she knows, and you reply with a Birthday Cat emoji. A rapport break like that can’t be answered. All she can do is laugh with growing desire at your alpha impudence.

Dialectic is the preferred form of communication when level-headed White men are drawing up policies to ensure prosperity for their nation and a future for their posterity. But we don’t live in that world anymore. Our world is tribal wagon-circling and feral women. Dialectic falls on deaf ears in an Idiocracy and in a Jizzocracy.

Rhetoric has the stage now. The beta male who patiently and thoroughly explores all the logical implications of a woman’s emotional extemporizing will bore her to tears. No sex for him. As it is in 2016 American politics; the cuckservative who patiently and thoroughly explores all the Constitutional implications of a liberal’s destructive anti-White animus will ostracize himself from the public discourse. No influence for him.

The ideal set-up for the alt-right rebel is rhetoric + dialectic. Get your kill shot in, then cow the others with an unanticipated foray into informed dialectic. This is a war that needs its meme MOABs as much as its persuasion personnel.

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It’s generally advisable to avoid ever apologizing for any infraction of social or courtship etiquette — particularly if the rules of the etiquette which would constrain you were established by your enemies — if it’s women’s hearts you want to hoard (and men’s loyalty you want to mobilize). However, even alphas with unimpeachable state control occasionally must pay tribute to the strategic, if half-assed, mea culpa. Along the serpentine path to incredible power, extreme circumstances will present which vociferously demand at least a feint in the direction of quasi-apology.

Which is why I give a pass to Trump for his “apology” to Megyn Kelly. (The sneer quotes are very apt, you’ll soon see.)

A reader forwarded this video clip from the interview between Megyn “blood coming out of her wherever” Kelly and Donald God Emperor Trump. She has cornered him into explaining his multiple “retweets” of various tweets that contained references to her, Megyn, as a bimbo. Watch and learn from a Master Charismatic how to say “my bad” like a badboy rogue.

GREAT example of Trump’s charisma in the exchange from 6:12 – 6:25 from interview w/ crazy Megyn.

When a woman wants an apology, don’t give it to her. If she craves it and NEEDS it, give her a simulacrum of an apology, and deliver it with a cheeky grin. Which is what Trump did here. And, unsurprisingly, Megyn’s mile-wide smile right after that charming BROADside testified to the effectiveness of Trump’s coy concession.

By way of making a stark alpha male-beta male comparison, try to imagine ¡Jeb! Bush in the same situation. (Suspend your disbelief for this flight of fancy.) Megyn has put the pressure on Jeb to account for his retweets of Jeb fans referring to her as a bimbo. How do you think Jeb would have replied?

Megyn: “You retweet…bimbo.”

Yeb: “Did I say that?”

Megyn: “Many times.”

Yeb: “I am really sorry. That’s not who I am. It was the heat of the moment, and I got carried away. Geez, my wife — and let me remind everyone how much I respect and love my wife, she’s my hero — my wife would never tolerate such abusive misogynistic language, and she’d never let me hear the end of it if I did anything that looked like I might be approving of it, even if someone else said it……..”

Megyno: *no smile, vagina snapped shut tighter than a clam at low tide, resentment welling* “You sicken me, chauvinist pig.”

***

Update: A readers points out another fine example of Trump’s tight Game in his interview with Megyn.

At 6.35 Trump says, “You’ve had a life that’s not been that easy”

How perfect is this? If you told a woman she had an easy life she’d take it as patronizing; if you told a woman she had a hard life she’d think you were saying she was from the ghetto.

you’ve had a life that’s not been that easy

Look at her face after that! The alpha knows when to misdirect and make it about her again so she can do what women do best at: talk about themselves.

Ambiguity, backhanded compliments (negs), frame control…. these are the tactics of the successful seducer.

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This ad from T-Mobile is just one example of the avalanche of miscegenation propaganda that’s been spilling out of the marketing departments of nearly every major American corporation and media organ for the past ten years, and which have been increasing in frequency tremendously since about two years ago.

coal-mobile

Mudshark monocles sold separately.

Why this sudden explosion of commercial, media, and government mongrelization indoctrination?

I can think of four possible reasons why Globo-Homo oligarchies and their paid-for government shills would actively promote miscegenation as selling points for their products/programs.

  1. Corporations have been overrun by SJW board members, executives, and managers. There are “true believers” now running major consumer and media industries, and they push miscegenation because they genuinely believe in its intrinsic value or they genuinely believe in its value as a mindfuck to ostracize and dispirit those (goyim) who aren’t autonomic cheerleaders for the muddy waters narrative.
  2. Corporations are being heavily pressured by SJWs and Numinous Negro shock troops to be more “inclusive” and “fight White privilege”, and the corps are responding by appeasing these freaks, figuring that the small cost in a presumed tiny number of lost irate customers outweighs the larger cost of bad publicity or settling frivolous lawsuits.
  3. Corporate boards have data which shows that miscegenation sells (to their identified market demos)! They push it cynically, to increase their bottom line, feeling no particular emotional attachment to it. If this rationale is true, then that means a growing wedge of American consumers, particularly those with discretionary cash, eat this MiscProp up. Sad!
  4. The ol’ smoke-n-mirrors. Corporations have created a large and avaricious Miscegenation Indoctrination Machine to distract from their 1%er takeover of the American economy. Keep their natural enemies — anti-fat cat shitlibs and low disgust threshold normies — occupied with technicolor hot button agitprop so that their attention is never drawn to the Globo-Homo elites’ championing of open borders, one-way trade agreements, and outsourcing that funnels money into the hands of fewer and fewer mega-wealthy value transferers while gutting the wages of ever more native sons of America.

I don’t know which reason is the most loathsome. All four probably have some salience (I think #2 and #4 are the biggest gears in the Miscegenation Indoctrination Machine). What I do know is that it is Good and Right to call out these Masturbators of the Cuckuverse for their reptilian scheming and attempted brainwashing. The more people that see this anti-White circus for what it is — the gravest show on earth — the more likely that the malevolent purveyors of mongrelization are beaten back to the loony bins where they belong and America can be great again.

PS I object less to authentically in-love mixed couples than I do to the active propaganda by our overlords to shove it down our throats like some twisted creeper’s idea of love.

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From Wickedpedia:

wikipride

It’s an academic question whether the anti-White agenda dominating the Western nations is a product of active eliminationist malevolence by a cabal of unhinged ideological zealots, or misguided universalist intention arising from a glitch in the Western White race’s evolutionary code. Whatever the source, the immediate concern should be stopping it, reversing it, and eventually holding accountable those who most doggedly disseminate the psy ops campaign to defame White ancestors, demoralize White spirit, Diversify White communities, and drive away Whites from a shared commitment to ensuring a future nation for themselves and their posterity. The stakes could not be higher.

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One reason (among many) the alt-right is burrowing into the softcore ids of shitlibs and cuckservatives and laying realtalk larvae that will chew its way out through their stunted amygdalas is that the alt-right is an amorphous, spontaneous consortium of happy hoodlums who by their nature can’t be purged, thus depriving the Hivemind of the best weapon it has to maintain their equalist anti-White status quo.

Digging deeper to discover the psychological mechanisms which facilitate the alt-right’s rise, we will find that alt-righters, taken as a whole, follow a few of Robert Greene’s “power laws“. Specifically:

Law 17: Keep Others in Suspended Terror: Cultivate an Air of Unpredictability

Humans are creatures of habit with an insatiable need to see familiarity in other people’s actions. Your predictability gives them a sense of control. Turn the tables: Be deliberately unpredictable. Behavior that seems to have no consistency or purpose will keep them off- balance and they will wear themselves out trying to explain your moves. Taken to an extreme, this strategy can intimidate and terrorize.

The dank meme machine that constitutes a significant stockpile of the alt-right’s rhetorical arsenal is the very definition of unpredictability. Could a cuckservative have had any prior intuition that he would be rightfully smeared as a cuck? Not a one of them saw it coming. That meme is so powerful the cucks STILL haven’t mustered an effective defense against it. And it’s been in circulation for months.

What about Pepe the green frog? Indescribably funny, totally out of left field… and brutally sadistic as an avatar of weaponized ridicule of SJWs and the Mewlers’ Row of Misfits.

Law 33: Discover Each Man’s Thumbscrew

Everyone has a weakness, a gap in the castle wall. That weakness is usually insecurity, an uncontrollable emotion or need; it can also be a small secret pleasure. Either way, once found, it is a thumbscrew you can turn to your advantage.

Many shitlibs have visible thumbscrews, ripe for twisting, but only to sadists who are not hamstrung by cucky PC (alt-right again fits the bill). The shitlib ids are, in fact, so easy to expose and rub raw that it’s a testament to the sheer cowardice, venality and stupidity of establishment cons that they couldn’t land even a glancing blow over the course of decades against their putative political enemies.

Law 39: Stir Up Waters to Catch Fish

Anger and emotion are strategically counterproductive. You must always stay calm and objective. But if you can make your enemies angry while staying calm yourself you gain a decided advantage. Put your enemies’ off-balance: Find the chink in their vanity through which you can rattle them and you hold the strings.

Law #39 is also a Game tactic (i.e., state control, or conventionally known as grace under pressure). This law is essentially the Law of Trolling, something which the alt-right has mastered, if not created. Maintaining composure while delivering your shivs drives your foe into impotent spasms of defensiveness or juvenile rage-quitting.The alt-right has knocked leftoids and cucks alike off-balance. They are reduced to flailing futilely against an enemy in the dark.

Finally, we move on to what I believe is the Power Law most responsible for the alt-right’s successful occupation of enemy minds:

Law 48: Assume Formlessness

By taking a shape, by having a visible plan, you open yourself to attack. Instead of taking a form for your enemy to grasp keep yourself adaptable and on the move. Accept the fact that nothing is certain and no law is fixed. The best way to protect yourself is to be as fluid and formless as water; never bet on stability or lasting order. Everything changes.

Keep the shitlibs and cucks guessing. Be mentally agile. Make it hard for you to be pigeon-holed. Move swiftly and surely to new topics and rhetorical lines of attack before foes have the time and floppy-wristed back-up to fully digest the nature of their vivisected egos and to mount a counter-attack. (Trump is a pro at this.)

When shitlibs can’t get a handle on you, when they are reduced to constantly playing Wile. E Coyote to your happy-go-lucky Road Runner, they must resort to tired clichés pulled from the B-sides of their sophism repertoire. Then they appear lame and destructible; no longer the invulnerable, imperial force of culture standard-bearers. Their thermal exhaust ports are now exposed, begging for a shitlord with half a sack to drop a proton torpedo down their smug uptalk chutes.

The alt-right is winning because it follows these power laws, it has attracted warrior and poet rebels, and

most importantly

they have that one defining quality

that special “something”

that the cucks, GOPers, and establishment cons never had…

ZFG.

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cheating-man-bustedThere comes a time in a man’s life (or a few hundred times) when the sum total of his gathered experiences with women and the wisdom he gained from them is called upon to help him out of a pinch. The pinch I refer to is when a woman accuses you of sneaking around on the side. There are only three things that drain the blood faster from a man’s face than the thought of erectile dysfunction:

  1. When your wife serves you divorce papers.
  2. When you catch your woman fooling around with another man.
  3. When your woman busts you for cheating.

The first two haven’t happened to me, but the last one has… multiple times. And from those trials by ovarian fire I have learned a few valuable lessons. I’m here to tell you what to do — or, more precisely, what *not* to do — when your girl jabs the infidelity finger of accusation in your face.

I’ll illustrate how NOT to handle a suspicious girlfriend with a fairly recent example from my own life (about two years ago). I was three months into a torrid fling with a pretty cable TV station producer whose sexual appetite rivaled the libidos of the horniest girls in the world — the Russians. She left streaks of black fingernail polish on my shower tiles, which I did not clean off for months as a tribute to her voracious vagina.

As with most sexual dynamos, she was a Class A attention whore. There are pics of her scattered all over the social media pooniverse of her (literally) dancing on bars and hipster supplicants licking her stockinged calves. She is now a grad student, still childless. One Friday evening, we were having ice cream and she asked me to join her later at a fashion show her friends were putting on. I said maybe and offered a go-to excuse about a friend coming to town, because little did TV producer girl know I hadn’t broken up with the serious girlfriend I had been dating for a year (the serious gf didn’t know about the fling) and I had made tentative plans to see her that night. The option to blow off my loving girlfriend was not available, as her and I were at a critical juncture where any more asshole behavior on my part (such as not seeing her on a Friday night) would’ve caused her to dump me to avoid further pain. I wished not for that gravy train to end.

Later that night, as I post-coitally lounged in my girlfriend’s bed, the TV producer texted me asking if I was coming to meet her. I didn’t respond. I wanted to see her, but the logistics were horrible. (Try escaping an intimacy-shrouded bed to see another woman without rousing suspicions. Not that easy while the oxytocin is flowing freely.) I was stuck.

The sexpot fling texted me the next day asking to meet her at a local bar later that night. Hoping for another brain frying bang, I happily met up with her. The curse of Admiral Akhbar was upon me. It was a trap. As soon as I sat down on the stool beside her, the conversation assumed an ominous tone:

HER: So why didn’t you come join me last night?

ME: Oh, I had some things come up. A buddy is leaving town and I wanted to see him before he left.

HER: What’s his name?

ME: [I hesitated for that critical split second when a girl can figure something is up] Um… Bobby.

HER: Where did you meet him?

ME: [X] street.

HER: I thought you told me your friend was coming to town?

ME: Um, oh yeah, well he was coming, but then leaving, so I wanted to catch up with him.

HER: [long pause, staring intensely into my eyes] Your story’s not consistent. What girl were you with last night?

Why did she suddenly sound like a goddamn lawyercunt?

ME: What?

HER: Why don’t you tell me who you were really with last night.

As suddenly as a tropical squall, her face hardened into a sheet of ice. The love had vanished. For some inexplicable reason, I decided a mid-course change in my story was acceptable. (It never is. Stick to your lie like it’s the 11th Commandment.)

ME: Look, I don’t like talking about this shit in my life, but my ex-girlfriend is going through a tough time and she needed me. [I was hoping to gain points for being compassionate. What a fool I was.] If I didn’t go see her, she might’ve freaked out.

HER: I don’t date cheaters. Or liars. I’m leaving town soon. It was nice knowing you.

Although I tried to smooth the waters, I did not get a bon voyage bang.

Some of you will be able to figure out where I went wrong. Pretty much everywhere. The above vignette is a textbook example of how to bungle the handling of a girl accusing you of cheating. I had violated my own rules for dealing with women.

  • I prevaricated, weakly.
  • I attempted a salvage operation.
  • I played right into her frame.
  • I confessed.

These four bullet points are everything you need to know about what NOT to do when accused by a girlfriend/wife/fling of spreading your man manna. You will want to do the exact opposite of what I did. Namely:

  • Don’t prevaricate.
  • Don’t backpedal or appease.
  • Reframe.
  • Deny deny deny!

Let’s illustrate how to properly handle the above scenario by changing the words I say.

HER: So why didn’t you come join me last night?

ME: I had some personal issues to take care or.

HER: What issues?

ME: It’s personal and nothing to do with you.

HER: Did you meet a girl?

ME: Would you like my bank account number while you’re at it, Inspector Clouseau?

HER: If you’re fucking around with someone else I want to know.

ME: No.

HER: Why don’t you tell me who you were really with last night.

ME: Heidi Klum and Scarlett Johansson. We fucked like rabbits. I had to kick them out. Clingy bitches.

HER: I don’t date cheaters. Or liars.

ME: I don’t date distrustful girls.

Now there’s no way to know if this would’ve resulted in the bang bus rolling on, but I believe the readers will agree that the odds of retaining the sexpot’s services would have been much higher had I handled it as in the second imagined scenario.

So, to recap:

When accused of cheating:

  1. Pause before answering.
  2. Speak directly. Don’t hem and haw.
  3. Look her in the eyes. Remember, every moment with a girl is a staring contest which you must win.
  4. Don’t appease. Appeasement is the great pussy desiccator.
  5. Don’t fall into her frame. Reframing is king!
  6. And, finally, deny like the sociopath you are. No matter how damning the evidence (she could walk in on you with your cock up to the hilt in strange pussy) if you keep a straight face and firmly deny everything she will rationalize a way to believe you. Yes, even the smart childless ones with multiple grad school degrees.

If you’re gonna play the man’s game, you had best know how to rig the rules in your favor.

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