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Archive for the ‘Ridiculousness’ Category

One hundred and one Chateau patrons slipped this juicy omega male shitlibbery — “What Open Marriage Taught One Man About Feminism” — into the combox for cathartic evisceration by yours unduly. The story concerns a “Mr.” “Michael Sonmore” (scare quote usage to become clear in a moment) who professes to an open sexual relationship with his wife and a full awareness and acceptance of his cuckoldry.

As I write this, my children are asleep in their room, Loretta Lynn is on the stereo, and my wife is out on a date with a man named Paulo. It’s her second date this week; her fourth this month so far. If it goes like the others, she’ll come home in the middle of the night, crawl into bed beside me, and tell me all about how she and Paulo had sex. I won’t explode with anger or seethe with resentment. I’ll tell her it’s a hot story and I’m glad she had fun. It’s hot because she’s excited, and I’m glad because I’m a feminist.

Mmhmm. This rings authentic.

When I quit working to stay at home with the kids, I began to understand it on a whole new level. I am an economically dependent househusband coping with the withering drudgery of child-rearing. Now that I understand the reality of that situation, I don’t blame women for demanding more for themselves than the life of the housewife.

LOL. So transparent. Male feminists don’t parade their sickly ids in public quite so pitch perfectly. AlexPareeniks, manlets extraordinaire, usually whip up their self-flagellation with a leavening dollop of bitter regret for betraying the last vestiges of their masculinity.

She didn’t present it as an issue of feminism to me, but after much soul-searching about why the idea of my wife having sex with other men bothered me I came to a few conclusions: Monogamy meant I controlled her sexual expression, and, not to get all women’s-studies major about it, patriarchal oppression essentially boils down to a man’s fear that a woman with sexual agency is a woman he can’t control. We aren’t afraid of their intellect or their spirit or their ability to bear children. We are afraid that when it comes time for sex, they won’t choose us. This petty fear has led us as a culture to place judgments on the entire spectrum of female sexual expression: If a woman likes sex, she’s a whore and a slut; if she only likes sex with her husband or boyfriend, she’s boring and lame; if she doesn’t like sex at all, she’s frigid and unfeeling. Every option is a trap.

This paragraph is the crone giveaway. A bitter, lonely cat lady wrote this article as a hoax to fellate her scorched ego and lash out at all the men who pass her by or use her up. True, the lowliest of lowly men COULD have written such excrescence, but the way to bet is that an insol spinster with delusions of vengeance and… sexual agency (heh)… fantasized this whole scenario into existence. She hits too many jargony femcunt talking points too squarely on the whiskered nose. Madonna/whore double standard? Check. Alpha fux/beta bux strategy justification? Check. Anti-judgmentalism? Check. Patriarchal oppression? Check. Dismissing as cultural baggage the real, primal, biologically-founded fear men have for cheating wives who might get pregnant by another man and foist their bastard spawn on them as their own? Checkold.

The point is that it should be women who choose, not men — even the men they’re married to. For my wife, the choice between honoring our vows and fulfilling her desires was a false choice, another trap. She knew how deep our love was, and knew that her wanting a variety of sexual experiences as we traveled through life together would not diminish or disrupt that love. It took me about six months — many long, intense conversations, and an ocean of red wine — before I knew it, too.

This paragraph contains the second crone giveaway. No man nurses his depression with “an ocean of red wine”. He hits the hard stuff or the beer. Spinster cat ladies, licensed to psychologically project! B-U-S-T-E-D. Great job, Michelle Eatmore.

It does work both ways and, yes, I too enjoy sexual carte blanche. I just don’t use mine as much as my wife uses hers. What’s important is equality of opportunity, not outcome.

How convenient for your imaginary heroine, Michelle. PS Equality of opportunity doesn’t apply to the sexual market because women have a near-monopolistic advantage on sexual commerce (which when they indulge decreases the value of their commitment market value, but femcunts don’t want to hear that part).

Update

Reader NothingMan00 adds,

I plugged each of the paragraphs presented here into the Gender Guesser:

http://www.hackerfactor.com/GenderGuesser.html#Analyze

It guessed female writer for each, assuming the piece is an example of “formal” writing.

Another commenter astutely pointed out that no man would worry more about his wife “falling in love” with another man than about his wife fucking another man. This is pure, distilled bitterbitch psychological projection.

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Emma Sulkowicz, that psychocunt NB4 who lied about being raped and still carries on as if her lie hadn’t been exposed, is back for more hard shivving (quite literally). She made a porno “””documenting””” her fake, totally made-up ordeal. Reader Pepe alerts the CH audience,

Remember mattress girl? Well, she made a porno *reenacting* her struggles:

http://www.cecinestpasunviol.com/

This woman has unlocked a new level of crazy. Like you can’t be this ugly and crazy at the same time.

Yes, ugly and crazy, that’s one unattractive combo. The upside is that not many men will be tempted to stick their dick in ugly, so they don’t have to worry about sticking it in her crazy either.

From the rape fantasist’s website:

Do not watch this video if your motives would upset me, my desires are unclear to you, or my nuances are indecipherable.

This is a Nimitz Class Attention Whore (and Control Freak; she wants to shove her smelly snatch in men’s faces and sadistically deny their male sexuality by demanding their desexualized consideration). And there’s no doubt she’s the type of chick (there are an uncomfortably large number of them) who gets off dreaming about a rapist having his way with her.

In the past, attention whores of this magnitude would violate only a handful of people’s lives… those closest to them. And they would be discarded once their friends and family caught on to their sickness and gave up showering them with the sympathetic ardor they crave. We see with the rise of the internet and social media that the insufferable attention whore has a new lease on her vampiric, emotion-sucking malevolence. The online world has enabled her like no BFF or doting mother could; it has not created a monster, but turned a monster into a contagion, devouring cultures whole.

America will fall like Rome did, but it will be much quicker, and more cataclysmic, thanks in no small part to social media and the rise of a night army of attention whores.

PS Eskimo.

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Any remnants of white masculinity in the American culture are being swept away for good. Commenter JohnnySixpack relates,

I was in a “compassionate communication” workshop today (required of all hospital providers here)

To get through it, I amused myself by tallying up the race/sex pairings in the powerpoints. One of the more egregious segments was on “medical literacy” and how patients don’t understand what we are telling them. All patients were described at having a 7th grade reading level or lower.

The scenarios were depicted thusly:

Black male doctor to white male
Hispanic male doctor to white female
White female doctor to white male
Black female doctor to white female

Insidious.

And invidious. The anti-white man propaganda is bad enough, but then one steps back and is forced to ask himself, “What the hell is a compassionate communication workshop, and why does it vaguely sound like humiliation torture to strip men of any desire to express their manhood?” Then of course one wonders if the pegged 7th grade reading level for the typical hospital patient is perhaps a bit too generous.

Ah well. This waking nightmare will have its reckoning soon. The craven disfigured beasts devouring the last shreds of cultural goodness seem to get hungrier with each swallow. They hunch over the carcass of their nation with a purpose that belies any hope of compromise. They will eat until nothing’s left, or they will be made prey themselves.

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In London, epicenter of European poz, there are adult baby parties. In Poland, sex change freaks run for office. And in New York, there is preschool for adults.

I have a grand unifying theory explaining the infantilization (and its cousin, androgynization) of late-stage secular Western societies.

In the not-terribly-distant past, 4K-8K years ago, at the dawn of agriculture, geneticists discovered that only 1 in 17 men got to reproduce. (Female hyperdrivegamy alert.)

17 men did it all for the nookie; only 1 in 17 men got the nookie. Now that’s a tough dating scene. Your negs had better be thermonuclear. Imagine a pickup convo from 5,000BC.

Man #16: You have nice eyes. Especially the left one.
Fertile Crescent Cutie: Where are your two bags of grain?
Man #16: I got your two grain bags right here, bish. Hoo-ah!

Agriculture allowed for the massive accumulation of material possessions by a few (lucky? gifted? both?) alpha males, which resulted in a lot of inequality among men and a lot of women deciding that fucking and bearing the children as a shared concubine of one bling-plastered alpha male was preferable to being the only wife of a doting beta male. But I’m sure somehow today’s feminists can twist this punishing reality into evidence that those 16 sexless ancestral men oppressed all those women sleeping with the town big man.

This tremendous reproductive skew caused a genetic bottleneck. Many men did not pass on their genes. We today are the product of a few male winners and their armies of adoring female fans from the fertile crescent long ago.

So what does this all have to do with modern Western infantilization? Hang tight. For the past few hundred years, maybe more, maybe less, the dating and reproductive scenes in white Western Europe and socially similar satellites have been mostly egalitarian. The age of the 1-in-17 Poonmaster was over. Many beta males got sex and a chance to leave a genetic legacy. Yeah, there was still cuckoldry, and plenty of betas likely had to endure the very special torments of the friendzone, but by and large humans had entered a new epoch marked by the inclusion of many more beta males into the sexytime folds.

So, for a long time after the close of the era of the big man, a lot of “lesser” men who would’ve failed in the 1-in-17 dating scene flourished in the 1-in-1 or 1-in-2 dating scenes, enough to change the water quality of future generations of the gene pool. Civilization arose with the rise of the beta male invested in a family and in a community of like-minded men who did not, for the most part, present a poaching threat to the individual beta family man. This was the Golden Age. Its blessings did not visit all parts of the world (*cough* congo *cough*).

Fast forward to 2015. Beta males aren’t just ascendent, they’re established. The charming jerkboy is the odd man out in advanced Western societies. The few “big men” who amass ungodly wealth are socially constrained from accumulating an equally ungodly number of loving legal concubines. Or they themselves are psychologically beta, and so despite their large fortunes accrued by leveraging mental talents particularly suited to modern economies, continue having trouble seducing women.

We have, succinctly, a beta male surplus. Beta males have been so successful that they have literally enriched not just themselves, like the big men of yore, but have taught women, who otherwise would be their rewards for fulfilling their male Darwinian directive, how to fish for themselves. Modern women benefit so greatly from beta male cleverness and largesse that they are self-supporting providers — Woman, Inc. — and accumulate their own stash of materialist goodies. The modern dating market, consequently, has ruptured. Self-sufficiency has freed women to more hotly pursue the dark side of their sex’s reproductive dichotomy — to pursue and fall in love with the charming cad with charming cad genes who makes them tingle even as they’re footing the full dinner bill for his company.

Generations of breeding for beta males with supercharged beta male characteristics has resulted in something akin to overbreeding among some breeds of dogs. What once was a useful animal, like the bulldog, has turned into a cartoon simulacrum of a dog. Now the breed can hardly run or breathe without splattering the walls in drool.

So it is with Western beta males, splattering the walls with their sperg sputum. They are overbred. Now the breed can hardly function in the dating scene. It needs help talking to women. It welcomes the leash. As a reflexive response to the stress of navigating a modern, mass secular society, some members of the beta male breed regress into the prenatal comforts of adult infantilization. If they personally haven’t regressed, they condone those who have and oppose those who would shame them into acting more masculine.

Some women regress, too. Modern women, after all, possess some of those super beta male genes as well.

Now times are starting to get tough. Diversity and globalization stress fractures are showing. That beta male surplus has become a liability, like an albatross hanging around the necks of suicidal Western nations. Reproductively culling some of these beta males used to be good for business during down times, from a culture-wide perspective. When all of them breed into an environment in flux, weird behavioral anomalies begin to manifest. Bronies. Trannies. Autists. The total societal embrace of gay marriage. Adult preschools. Diaper parties. Comic Con. New atheists. Manboobs. Male feminists. Amanjaw Marcuntte. SJWs. Bryan Caplan. Juggalos. Miscegenation cheerleading. Cuckold fetishists. Fat Walmartians.

Women have an instinct which influences their competing hindbrain desires for betas or alphas. This instinct, acting on the subconscious, pushes them away from beta males when beta males have outlived their usefulness, as I believe is currently the operating paradigm in decrepit first world open borders self-flagellating elite-infighting capitalist bazaars.

Psychological infantilization, essentially, is one of the processes by which the excess beta males in modern secular societies subconsciously “self-cull”. War and religious fanaticism are other methods of beta male self-culling, but the former has fallen into disrepute, and the latter, while on the upswing, isn’t yet the unconquerable force that will change the face of the West forever. (But it’s getting there.) Turning gay, in practice or in habit, is another way marginal beta males remove the worst pain of the sting of sexual rejection.

All this is to say….

Game can save lives civilizations.

PS A society overrun with too many breeding beta males can also produce men who go the opposite way and try to maximize signals of masculinity.

The busier and more crowded with males a society becomes, the more competition there is and the more flamboyant the badges are [i.e., hipster beards].

The modern male not only has to vie with hundreds of fellow males in the real world but has to stand out from potentially thousands of rivals online, so clean-shaven men [may] well be turning off women drawn to seemingly powerful men.

“When you live in a small group where everyone knows everyone because of repeated interactions, there is no need to signal quality and competitiveness via ornaments,” he said.

“In large groups where individuals are surrounded by strangers, we need a quick reliable tool to evaluate someone’s strength and quality, and that’s where these elaborate ornaments come in.

Bronies or try-hard hipsters. We truly live in a Gelded Age.

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I’m seeing more middle-aged and older white women with pink, green, and purple dyed hair.

I’ll keep this short and sweet: It won’t help, ladies.

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Beta Or Gay?

It used to be easy to tell beta males apart from gay males. Betas had their issues with women — social awkwardness, anxiety, inexperience at the art of courtship — but you never mistook their deficiencies for latent homosexuality. Through the sperg haze of their betatude, it was still clear these were guys who were attracted to women and loved to be around pretty girls, (maybe loved them too much, leading to a lack of state control in the company of beautiful babies).

But that was then. This is now:

The onesie party is bad enough, but that ball-crunching leg cross by the guy in the white jammies… jeeeeeezus. I wonder if he looks at his own penis through a system of mirrors, lest he faint from direct sight of it?

Generation Self-Castration. A low T epidemic is sweeping the white West. Pretty soon we’ll be talking about survivalist holdouts with abnormally high T levels in the 5-10 ng/dl range.

So…. these three males: Beta or gay?

The woman-thing appears to be a pear-shaped Lena Dunham clone. All this gaybeta/betagay excitement will not rouse her hamster even a little bit from its slumber, nor will an effervescent tingle circumnavigate her arid tomb chute this night.

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The streets are getting overrun with hipsters puffing limp-wristedly on electronic, cigar-shaped vaporizers. Now the unmuscled, orally-fixated white hipster signals his approach with a little blue LED light and a swirl of nicotine/weed steam emanating from his smelly beard. Are there that many former hipster smokers trying to quit, or is the vape pen just another SWPL attempt to ape actual coolness in an age of anti-racism schoolmarms and sexually ambiguous male feminists? “Vape bars” aren’t far behind.

I recently bought a foot-long vape pipe. I don’t intend to smoke it. I’ll just have it worked into an illustrious pendant worn as a mating cue to passing ladies. Vape rape. 😎

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