Archive for the ‘Ridiculousness’ Category

CH’s resident shambassador from Daily Kos, The Spirit Within, is not a Trump fan.

FYI Last week McClatchey/Marist polls re: general election show the Democrat nominee beating the Republican nominee in every conceivable permutation of candidates…

…except one. Carson v Sanders. And the margin was only 2.

Trump is not the savior. In the projections, he lost the general to Sanders by 12 and to Clinton by 15. As his lack of expertise is revealed and as he makes more endless goofy speeches — he’s veering closer to Castro/Chavez/Camacho banana republic style politics — that gap will widen.

Keep pushing that charlatan on your readership, Heartiste. I’m sure you have your perverse reasons.

I’ll save your comment in the data bank for later retrieval, TSW, because I want to enjoy your meltdown squeals when the Trumpening heralds a new age and your words come back to bite you.

Confession: I have a soft spot for The Shitlib Within. Yes, he’s disingenuous and a shitlib (but I repeat myself), and he deploys just about every hackneyed, evasive leftoid rhetorical device in the Alinsky rules for race creationists when cornered by realtalk macroaggressions, but he/she/eskimo has a hokey earnestness which wrests a morsel of mercy from the dark lord. Plus, how can you not root a little bit for a guy who throws himself to the CH wolves here with such oblivious disregard for his dignity?

PS The McClatchy-Marist poll is the most liberal-biased of the polls that have attempted a hypothetical general election match-up. Most polls show a much closer race between Hillary/Sanders and Trump.

PPS I aggravated a nagging injury, which means I won’t be able to lift as hard for a stint, which means my T levels will dip below one million liters, which means I will start writing about the pompitous of love, the hidden beauty waiting to be discovered under gnarly vagina folds, fat acceptance, flavortown, the possibility of good lighting turning around Amanda Marcotte’s dating life, and the endearing hokey earnestness of The Sophist Within for a while. Hope you all can handle this whimsical ride on the feminine side.

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Occasionally, and getting less frequent all the time, I consult the radio/TV/print Hivemind media organs for the disinformation of the day. I don’t know why I do this, except as an exercise in having my cynicism affirmed. Without fail, I’m subjected to the exquisite pain of a fagged up torrent of leftoid lies, war on women crap, and race creationism… every topic infused with the easy assumption that White men are the root of all evil, and delivered with the butt-clenched sanctimony that only a shitlib in the middle of a set of Kegels can summon.

Lately though, listening in on the enemy has become intolerable. I’m talking about the uptalk. It’s outta control? I mean, everyone has to speak their sentences like a question now?

For instance, on a recent excursion to the freaky farm, in the span of fifteen minutes I had to endure hearing four women and two men uptalk NEARLY EVERY GODDAMN SENTENCE that poured out of their mouths. And once you pick up on the repetitive nature of this Millennial verbal tic, the sound quickly hits the ear like nails on chalkboard.

But it’s not just Millennials. One woman had the gravelly voice of late middle age, and she uptalked as badly as the younger women. The men sounded like recent college grads, and while they didn’t exhibit the degree of commitment to uptalking that the women did, (taking a break every so often to deliver a statement in the form of a statement), when they did uptalk it struck my nerves harder, so unused was I to hearing grown males speak like insecure preteen girls. Like, wow just wow?

I’m continually amazed at how faggy shitlib Americans are becoming, in speech, belief, and behavior. I wonder sometimes if they aren’t a new developing species; a branch on the evolutionary tree hanging low with a load of fruit.

In theory, a little bit of uptalk should sound feminine coming from a woman, but in practice it just comes across whiny and passive-aggressive, as if the speaker is so thin-skinned she has to phrase everything as a question so that she can coerce the listener’s head-nodding agreement. And, I suppose, if in a rare planetary alignment one of the un-vetted guests on these news shows were to actually challenge the uptalking shitlib on her faulty premise, she can mentally retreat to the ego-saving fake-out that she was only “questioning the received wisdom”.

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The latest liberal screech-out is high dudgeon over some prankster teenage muslim mud in Texas who brought a “””clock””” to school as a science project that looked suspiciously like a suitcase bomb, and his teacher justifiably freaked out and called the cops.

Status whoring badwhite-hating disingenuous shitsack liberals, of course, are springboarding off the incident to claim, for the umpteenth time, that racist White America keeps the mudman down, neglecting to mention while in thrall to their righteous indignation that White kids have been tossed out of school and hauled before court for, to wit, bringing in a pop tart bitten into the shape of a handgun.

America, fuck yeah!

Anyhow, as details have leaked past the Hivemind information bottleneck, it’s become apparent to anyone who isn’t a robotic, race creationsist leftoid that the kid was doing the bidding of his white-hating black muslim family. The “clock” was deliberately mocked-up to resemble a suitcase bomb and frighten White authorities, who would react in the appropriate way (and according to Texas law which explicitly forbids bringing objects to school that look like jihadi weapons of area-wide destruction).

The oh-so-innocent Ahmed’s darling parents are lined up behind him in faux outrage, delivering speeches to the media that sound like they were scripted by a team of Alinskyte shock-troop Eskimos.

An emailer adds to the evidence that this bomb/clock story is a giant middle mudfinger in the face of White America,

RE: Ahmed’s completely innocent homemade clock.

When I first heard about Ahmed, the kid who made the news for his “bomb” clock project, I took his side. I played with discrete electronics as a kid. I built breadboards, I soldered, and I experimented with early robotics… In this STEM obsessed educational system, why couldn’t the school officials quickly dismiss this scare as a science project? Why did this make the news? I just didn’t get it… and then I saw a picture of the clock.

From CNN: “A teenager with dreams of becoming an engineer, he wanted to show his teacher the digital clock he’d made from a pencil case.”

Anyone with an understanding of electronics will immediately see this “homemade clock” is not the tinkering of a child or teen. It was never Ahmed’s idea to begin with. This isn’t some innocent science project. The picture of the clock exposes the lie. Ahmed did not lovingly patch together IC chips and resistors, as the media would like you to believe. What you see is the guts from a manufactured digital clock, right down to the 9 volt memory backup, and the prefab button board. Absolutely nothing was made. It’s the equivalent of taking the plastic surround off of your TV and claiming you “made” a TV.

Look at the case itself. CNN calls it a “pencil case.” Please. The whole package is vaguely sinister, and it’s intentional. Notice the nondescript packet of unidentified white powder. See that nice dent in the side? I wonder if you could stash plastic explosives behind that huge LED. Why is the lining so bumpy? Look at the shoddy taping and the twisted wire used to close the case. It’s almost as if someone designed this clock to look like a questionable object.

Again, from CNN: “”I built a clock to impress my teacher but when I showed it to her, she thought it was a threat to her,” Ahmed told reporters Wednesday.” It was really sad that she took the wrong impression of it.””

Ahmed, you didn’t build a clock. You’re a pawn to your Dad’s political and social agenda. This is all a creation of your father. I’m sure he involved you in the process, and made you feel as though you were truly making something, but you didn’t. It’s a clock without its case. Everything in the “pencil case” was made in a factory. See, a legitimate electronics project full of diodes and resistors looks innocent. It usually runs off of a battery, not an exposed AC to DC transformer… speaking of science projects, Ahmed, why again did you bring this to class? Was it part of an assignment? Oh, you just wanted to impress your teacher with a clock you rearranged inside a small briefcase? Hmm…

From dallasnews.com: ““He fixed my phone, my car, my computer,” Mohamed Elhassan Mohamed said. “He is a very smart, brilliant kid.”

If he were so smart, he’d know the difference between creating a circuit and stripping the guts from a manufactured clock. His dad helped him “make” this, and dad helped to make this “project” look as questionable as possible, within the realm of plausible deniability.

The dad is a politician.  He made this happen. Whatever agenda he’s advancing, it just further demonizes western society, and reminds us all to be guilty for how racist we all are. Maybe that’s the agenda.

It’s propaganda.

Yes, and these anti-White ingrates wouldn’t get nearly so much mileage out of their schtick if they weren’t enabled by a ready and willing army of millions of fanatical white leftoids (and their eskimo paymasters) to see how much they can freely shit in the faces of normal White Americans.

Perchance to say, wake up white man. It’s getting ugly out there.

Yet more proof of the CH ur-maxim:


Strip away the particulars of these increasingly unhinged and ludicrous attacks against BadWhite America, and we are left with two insistent questions:

Why are all these ingrate nonWhites even in America in the first place?


Why do White Leftoids have so much power?

Someone’s gotta ask the first principle questions; it may as well be CH.

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This latest confirmation of ¡Jabe! Bush’s innate beta maleness is so funny that for a moment you will forget about weeping for the decline of your nation.

¡Jabe!, already 6’3″ tall, felt it was necessary to stand on his tiptoes while positioned next to Donald “My Three Wives Are Hotter Than Your Aztec Oneitis” Trump.

What a maroon! Think about how fucking insecure and mentally lazy a man must be to pull this stunt in full view of cameras, essentially telling the world that he isn’t confident in his 6’3″ height to project an aura of dominance over his hated rival Trump, who bullycides Jeb so completely that Jeb lurches into desperate countermeasures, like a spastic nerd wearing underwear with detachable waistband so he can smugly retort “fooled you!” when he receives another atomic wedgie.

When people see this, do you know what they’ll think about you, Jeb? That Trump has your number. He’s under your skin. He’s winning. And you’re losing, because you’re a loser at heart. The stink of loser eeps from your fatfuck chipmunk cheeked plushboy facehole, and it’s become clearer to everyone why your fragile ego demanded you squat up with a third world midget and let her embarrass you for years, the wife of a major public figure, by never learning to speak English.

Goddamn these cuckservatives are useless. They need to be tossed out like last week’s garbage. Their rot infects everything and strangles any hope of a real revolution coming to wash away the grime.


Reader Otsuka adds,

Think about a man who has been a governor of a large state; a man who has both brother and father former Presidents; standing on his tiptoes because he feels his 6’3″ stature is inadequate to impress the girls. The mind reels, the revulsion for this betaboy is reflected in his poll numbers. Imagine what must be going on in the minds of the PAC dropping a 100 million dollars on this pathetic creature.

What is Jeb’s PAC thinking? *flush*

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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).


Reader NothingMan00 adds,

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


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:


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


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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