Thought Experiment: Who Would You Have Cloned?

A while back in the blogosphere there was discussion about the ethics of cloning oneself. I’d imagine raising a clone of yourself would be like Groundhog Day, where you can predict your clone-child’s flaws and tailor a parenting style that would minimize their defects. Let’s say a clone-son would be shy. The father could then set about getting the clone-son accustomed to socially mingling with large groups of people at an early age. Or he could introduce the kid to liquor in grammar school. If you are a woman with a clone-daughter and you know she’s going to take after your big nose, you can start saving up money now for the rhinoplasty she’ll have just before the cruel junior high school years.

Maybe a more intriguing question is what other people we would want cloned. Thought experiment: if you had the power to clone an infinite number of times one person from the following list of people, who would you choose?

1. Isaac Newton
2. Gandhi
3. Muhammad Ali
4. Genghis Khan
5. Bach
6. Michelangelo
7. Sergey Brin
8. Kurt Cobain
9. Margaret Thatcher
10. Melissa Theuriau

An army of Newtons would probably be best for the world in a materialist sense, but there’s no doubt who I would have cloned into a vast standing army of pleasurebots. Is there a better reflection of our values than who we would choose to clone besides ourselves?

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There’s A Reason I Don’t Do Facebook

South Park explains why.

So I understand Wankroulette is the latest insipid fad. Yes, I truly am missing out on the best of our culture, and then some.

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Things Your Real Estate Agent Won’t Tell You

In various hot spots around the city you will see units of public housing. Usually you can identify these complexes by the disrepair of the property and the empty liquor bottles littering the sidewalk in front. It’s easy enough to avoid renting or buying a place next to a dump, but what if the public housing is newly constructed? You could be fooled into thinking the neighborhood is a charming outpost of SWPLness.

There is another way to tell which properties are Section 8 hell matrices. Read the names. Almost all the low income properties (where there is a ceiling imposed on the income level of candidates for residency) have bright, sunshiney names like “The Horizon House”, “Hope Plaza”, The Dream on 17″, or “New Beginnings”. It’s a dead giveaway when you take the most noxious neighbors possible, and slap on their crack shacks the most innocuous, hopenchange-y names possible. Is this fooling anyone?

I think the same should be done for exorbitantly priced condo complexes in edge communities that are breeding grounds for non-breeding SWPLs. It would be great to immediately identify SWPL housing by its hypocritically earnest name. For example: “Sustainable Living Luxury Condos”, “Whole Foods In Basement So You Never Have To Venture Into The Neighborhood You Brag About To Your Suburban Friends Condo”, “The Super Artsy Lofts On Lobbyist Ave”, “$300,000 Premium To Pay For Hip Bar That You Can Walk To Condos”, and “No Impact Man Used To Live Here Apartments — Free Wifi!”.

I mean, if our sick culture is going to steep itself in lies, may as well go all out and lie like a rug. We can make a game of it.

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Poseur Pop Culture Reference Of The Day

Was Leo DiCaprio’s best role Arnie in the movie ‘What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?’, where he played an annoying teenage tard who liked to climb tall objects? I believe that was his high water mark. Which I find kind of funny.

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Random Blasts Of Thoughts And Reader Emails

Mr. Rudy writes:

REALLY IMPORTANT QUESTION

OK, maybe it’s not that important, but seriously:  do you ever feel slightly bad for Alpha-ing a chick to the point when she’s in a puddle of her own tears and you’ve moved on weeks or months ago??  I know what you’re going to say, but really, aren’t some chicks going to have a happier life never having known an Alpha and content in their Oprah-watching life, not asking many questions while they pass their days with some clueless Beta??  I say this as a full Alpha with maybe some Beta guilt.  Because I can’t count how many chicks I’ve done this to, where they are left to pick up the pieces and wonder what happened…

-Guilty (kinda) in San Diego

p.s. Think about it a while before you respond, it’s not as cut and dry as you think…

There are a few women in my life I feel bad about having hurt. A man who never feels bad for any women he has hurt is either a spergy monster machine or he has never loved a woman enough to feel guilt for causing her pain. I emphasize “few”. Only the vulnerable women who gave me every last ounce of their hearts received the blessing of my guilt when I hurt them. If I wasn’t selective with my emotions I’d be a diagnosed depressive spending my waking hours flagellating myself for the tortures I’ve inflicted on all those innocent babes.

Then of course there are those women who deserve the opposite treatment. Rest assured my karmic scales are balanced.

***

Anonymous wrote:

CH, much of what you say is hilarious, but filled with wisdom. I am dealing with something that needs your insight.

I have been dating a specific woman for two months, along with taking other women out.

On our first date, after a few beers, I told her, “If we have sex, you need to know that I will lick your pussy, you can blow me, and i will fuck you in the ass, but I won’t fuck your vagina.”

For two weeks, I got to do all three on an almost nightly basis….usually in my car.

Then, one night, having a sore back from the incorrect posture of sitting in the backseat foot well while enjoying lunch one too many times, I decided to get a hotel room.

She put the condom on me, then acted like she was backing her ass to my cock then quickly slipped it in her pussy instead. So, for the next hour, I let her rock out, then climbed on top to finish the job.

That was the last time we had sex.

I need to understand what happened.

For the next month, she seemed to flip out at the least misstep. Thinking I worked everything out, still no sex after the hotel.

Then, this week, I sent her a text, having not seen her for a week, “Hey Baby, I miss you.”

She sends back, “I know.”

Screwed in the head by this response (I wanted a, “I miss you, too,” response) I sent her another , “You know I miss you?”

“Yes, I do.”

So I text her back, “Then, good. I don’t need to tell you any more.”

Silence for an hour.

I text her again, “It really hurts that the more I tell you I desire you, the less you tell me you desire me.”

She texts back, “I have had it with your shit. Don’t ever call or text me again.”

“No worries. I won’t.” I send.

“Good, I won’t miss you.”

I text back, “I know.”

That’s the end of it. How could I have handled it better and not beta?

(Reason for no vag sex is because of some state laws.)

First, your texting was atrocious. Major Jumbotron fail. As for why she freaked out after vaj sex? A few thoughts spring to mind. She’s hyper-religious. She’s had an abortion in the past. She has AIDs. She was cheating on someone with you. She got indoctrinated in the interim by a Take Back The Night anti-date rape crusade of butch lesbians. I was thinking maybe you were bad in bed, but you wrote that you two did it for over an hour, usually the sign of a woman who is enjoying herself.

A bigger question is why you would tell her you won’t bang her in the vaj but you’ll do her in the ass? Is this supposed to be the 21st century version of chivalry? If there’s a state law against vaj sex (? is she underage?), then I’m sure it applies to ass sex as well. Otherwise, don’t assume a woman’s feelings about vaj sex are your moral crisis. Your job as a man, should you take it, is to seduce the woman and bang her every which way you can get away with. If she doesn’t want it in the vaj, let her decide that for herself.

***

Ariel wrote:

I just had a really good idea for passing these shit tests where the woman is seeking validation or compliments.

When you identify a shit test, for example a woman says “I hate this dress, it makes me look fat…” or something stupid like that, find the nearest guy, or even girl, and ask them if they like her dress or if it makes her look fat or whatever relates best to her shit test.

Being that generally people are polite, they’ll compliment or validate her INSTEAD OF YOU!

Instead of GIVING AWAY your power, you’re actually DEMONSTRATING POWER over somebody else, and making her FEEL BETTER about whatever she was concerned about at the same time. Everybody’s satisfied!

I just had to get that out there. It struck me as brilliant.

I like it. Very shrewd. Just be careful not to ask a guy like me if your girlfriend looks fat in that dress if she really is fat. I might stick the shiv in real deep and tell her that style is too revealing for a woman of her… class.

***

We’re getting closer to defeating humanity’s cruelest disease:

Researchers develop dietary formula that maintains youthful function into old age

HAMILTON, ON. February 11, 2010 – Researchers at McMaster University have developed a cocktail of ingredients that forestalls major aspects of the aging process. […]

The study found that a complex dietary supplement powerfully offsets this key symptom of ageing in old mice by increasing the activity of the cellular furnaces that supply energy—or mitochondria— and by reducing emissions from these furnaces—or free radicals—that are thought to be the basic cause of ageing itself.

Using bagel bits soaked in the supplement to ensure consistent and accurate dosing, the formula maintained youthful levels of locomotor activity into old age whereas old mice that were not given the supplement showed a 50 per cent loss in daily movement, a similar dramatic loss in the activity of the cellular furnaces that make our energy, and declines in brain signaling chemicals relevant to locomotion. This builds on the team’s findings that the supplement extends longevity, prevents cognitive declines, and protects mice from radiation.

Ingredients consists of items that were purchased in local stores selling vitamin and health supplements for people, including vitamins B1, C, D, E, acetylsalicylic acid, beta carotene, folic acid, garlic, ginger root, ginkgo biloba, ginseng, green tea extract, magnesium, melatonin, potassium, cod liver oil, and flax seed oil. Multiple ingredients were combined based on their ability to offset five mechanisms involved in ageing.

I’ll be a happier man than I already am if we can put a stop to the scourge of declining female beauty.

***

Because sometimes a reminder is needed:

Optimal Waist-to-Hip Ratios in Women Activate Neural Reward Centers in Men

Secondary sexual characteristics convey information about reproductive potential. In the same way that facial symmetry and masculinity, and shoulder-to-hip ratio convey information about reproductive/genetic quality in males, waist-to-hip-ratio (WHR) is a phenotypic cue to fertility, fecundity, neurodevelopmental resources in offspring, and overall health, and is indicative of “good genes” in women. Here, using fMRI, we found that males show activation in brain reward centers in response to naked female bodies when surgically altered to express an optimal (~0.7) WHR with redistributed body fat, but relatively unaffected body mass index (BMI). Relative to presurgical bodies, brain activation to postsurgical bodies was observed in bilateral orbital frontal cortex. While changes in BMI only revealed activation in visual brain substrates, changes in WHR revealed activation in the anterior cingulate cortex, an area associated with reward processing and decision-making. When regressing ratings of attractiveness on brain activation, we observed activation in forebrain substrates, notably the nucleus accumbens, a forebrain nucleus highly involved in reward processes. These findings suggest that an hourglass figure (i.e., an optimal WHR) activates brain centers that drive appetitive sociality/attention toward females that represent the highest-quality reproductive partners. This is the first description of a neural correlate implicating WHR as a putative honest biological signal of female reproductive viability and its effects on men’s neurological processing.

Executive summary: No fat chicks.

***

S. wrote:

Say you go to a bar and strike a conversation with two girls. One is really hot. The other one is a classic beta.

The hot one says, “Dude, you’re nuts, totally, Avatar, was, like, awesome! Hurt what? Sorry, haven’t seen that one. But, seriously, come on, Avatar was AWESOME! Like, fucking, really… I mean, great movie. Remember how he goes PFFF on that dragon? I can’t believe you didn’t get it.” And she wrinkles her pretty nose. And the bar stand is reflected in her eyes. When it’s not reflected, you can see the back of her head in there. Sort of.

The other girl is smart and funny and loved District 9. She wants to discuss the 2blowhards blog with you or the latest article in New Yorker. She is flirty and has a nice smile. The problem is… what was her problem? Oh, I remember now. Her BMI is 27. She’s not gorgeous. Her hair is slightly frizzy.

Needless to say, you are going to leave with the first girl. Right? ‘Cause, you know, she’s like, awesome, dude.  And you want to fuck, not discuss Almodovar. You already have a great outlet for your intellect – this blog.

Sigh.

I find your cynicism and rejection of bland political correctness refreshing. But I would love, love, love to talk to you in 20 years. Heck, make that 10.

Next time you are in Potomac/Rockville area, let me know. I have many more questions to ask. (Oh, and don’t worry: I am almost 40, have two kids, wear size 10-12, and am not interested in Greek alphabet measurements of human worth, even sexual worth. Just immensely curious.)

You keep writing.
S.

“PFFF on that dragon”. Lol.

Taking your scenario at face value (that is, I’ll dismiss for the moment the valid objection that it is presumptuous to assume a random hot chick a man meets must be a bubblehead), I’m afraid you won’t like my answer.

Here, across the internet where I can’t know what you look like, I’m drawn to your style. Left to my own imagination, I would have envisioned you as sexy as possible. But now that I know you are almost 40, with two kids, and a BMI of 27, you might say the blood has been let out of my chub. I don’t relish this fact. I’m a slave to my bioalgorithm as much as you are, as we all are. I cannot will myself to feel sexually attracted to an unattractive woman no matter how cleverly obscure her cultural references.

So the answer to your question is: yes, I would take the hotter chick home. And I would continue dating women who met both my criteria of physical attractiveness as well as mental stimulation.

***

Smoke wrote:

I have a super hot Polish cleaning lady. She’s maybe 22 and comes to clean through a service twice a month.

Any tips on closing her?

Ah, Polish girls. Beautiful, romantic, sweetly naive Polish girls. I have a gripping story about a Polish girl I loved that I thought about revealing on this blog, but decided against. Maybe I’ll save it for the book.

Tip: She’s a cleaning lady and foreign. Your status is already sky high relative to hers, so you need to connect with her by bridging the gap. Right now, she truly believes you are out of her league, and will likely deflect any of your flirting with her because of this. A little alpha-style self-deprecation is in order. (Don’t go overboard.) Learn a couple of funny Polish words and mispronounce them on purpose. She’ll giggle and correct you. You’re off to the races.

***

Sman wrote:

Hey!!!! Thanks again for another round of reader replies. I wanted to bring something to your attention.

A friend recently showed me a clip from the Tyra Banks show about women that train their young daughters to be gold diggers from an early age.

How early? The youngest girl there was 6 years old.

Early intervention is always best, I say. But a difficulty presents itself when attempting to instill the righteous values of reductionism in your little princesses — at 6 years old you can’t be sure she’ll grow up hot enough to successfully play the golddigger game. Parents of ugly daughters may want to take this into consideration and fast track their little monsters into Womyn’s Studies at the overpriced private grad school of their choice, where she’ll be safe from the predations of men and their penetrating rapebringers.

***

Anise wrote in a comment to my HIIIII!! post:

Talking about men, clothes and food with one’s girlfriends is one of the joys of being a woman and having girlfriends. Sheesh. I don’t care if you don’t like my tone. This is not your conversation.

As for the gays, they are owed a debt by aspiring PUAs. Grooming, fitness, hygiene, the glorification of youth and sexual pleasure über alles. Sound familiar, fruitcake?

Anise has a point. The influence of gay culture has spruced up some of the less appealing aspects of the straight male culture. It may not be palatable to a lot of traditional men with grit under their fingernails, but we live in a day and age when male peacocking is making a strong resurgence as an effective tool of seducing women. Yes, men who wear armbands and cowboy hats are drawing the attention of women and getting laid. I like to dabble in the gentlemanly art of fine styling, myself.

Of course, this works the other way. Gays left to their own devices, free of any societal shaming or disgust or benign influence from surrounding tribal groups, rapidly spin out of control, reformulating their world until it resembles a technicolor musical complete with frills, doilies, and dogs small enough to fit in shirt pockets. So gays with a touch of the masculine (and from what I’ve heard, most gay men prefer gay lovers who exude some masculinity) owe a debt to the straight males in their midst.

Btw, when you screech “Hiiiii!!!!” really loud so the whole bar can learn how well-liked you are by your peers, yes, it becomes a part of my conversation. Know that you are being mercilessly mocked. Suck it up.

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HIIIIII!!

I was sitting at one of my favorite social venues when a disturbance behind me erupted. A woman had just arrived and greeted her mixed group of friends with an exaggeratedly pronounced “Hiiii!!!” All the women already sitting at the table, and the couple of men who were with them, replied nearly in unison with an even louder and prolonged “Hiiiiii!!!”. The “Hiiii!!” was annoying beyond belief; a sing-song-y, off-key yenta battle cry. It’s hard to describe the sound of a spoken word, but imagine a musical “Hi” divided into two notes with the accent (upbeat) on the first note (Hii-) followed languorously by a longer downbeat on the second whole note (-iiiiiiii), spoken in adagio and fortissimo. Would a girl saying “Hi” like this sound phony? Yes!

It’s pretty common knowledge that DC stands at the top in per capita phoniness. There is a higher density of phoniness per square mile here than even in vaunted phony cities like New York. The whole reason of DC’s existence is to persuade other people to throw money, perks, or props your way, so a finely developed skill in the art of phoniness is a requirement before stepping in the ring. But this latest incarnation of phoniness is breathtaking even to a jaded cynic like myself. And these were not teen girls. They were grown-ass women with non-profit jobs and rich daddies to pay their exhorbitant rents.

To all the girls reading this post who greet each other and their gay best boyfriends this way, I ask: Are you *really* that happy to see your friends whom you just saw last week? Or is phoniness the new black? Maybe you think the phony Hi and the accompanying fake phony smile are supposed to be feminine, but I assure you, it is not. Fingernails on a chalkboard? Yes. Feminine? No. I’ll go out on a limb here and hypothesize that girls who are fakers when greeting people are also fakers in bed.

Here’s what I think is going on. The thuper duper edge community gay culture and the girly follower female culture have fused and become as one — a vortex of caricatured, trannyfied pseudofemininity spewing nebulae of jutting manjaws, wildly faggy gesticulations, and conversations that sound downright operatic. It is a vortex of suckage that any straight man would find baffling, which come to think of it, may be the point. But I can definitely tell you what it is *not*. It’s not attractive. This illustrates another great dividing line between the sexes — our respective reactions to phoniness. In general, men loathe phonies. Women cherish the company of phonies, and embrace the phony scene with gusto. Without phonies in their lives, women would have nothing to be catty about behind closed doors.

There is a powerful feeback loop in effect when girls and gays join forces. Where does this great culture meld between city girls and city gays end?

Half the moves in men’s figure skating look like reach arounds.

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Plausible Deniability

Most horny women will never come right out and ask for sex from their lovers. You will not often hear “Let’s fuck NOW!” or “Do you want to bang?” from your girlfriend, or from many women you are dating throughout your lifetime. A few raunchy broads of questionable virtue will take the initiative dominatrix-style, and you will be pleased by their efforts, but all in all most normal men prefer the coyness of women who relinquish themselves to sex instead of demand it. Truth is, ladies, we find it adorable.

A woman’s need to feel physically desired is stronger than her need for food and shelter on the Vajlovian hierarchy of values. Thus, women tend to avoid outright asking for sex, even when explosively horny, because it sidesteps entirely their prime directive to passively arouse the male to action. But oh how their tingles itch for relief! And so women have devised a complicated system of sexual hints and innuendo that would make a French aristocrat blush with envy. I continue coming across numerous examples of just such scandalous whisperings from the women I meet in my life.

• The Human Meow. This is where a woman will make cute animal noises, similar to bird chirps or meows, to indicate her desire for sex. They will often sound like “Mmm? MmmMMMmmm?” with upturned eyebrows, as if waiting for you to clue in. Naturally, all systems women use to communicate their wish for sex must adhere to the first rule to maintain plausible deniability. So if you call a woman out on her human meows she will deny with the sort of ingenious excuses that so seamlessly blend reality and fantasy. To wit: “If you want sex baby, you could just say so instead of meowing like a hungry cat.” Her: “I was asking if you’d like to make us some green tea!”
• The Telepathic Sex Stare. Half-lidded, lips imperceptibly parted, you wonder if she’s doing an end run around your consciousness and making a direct connection with your hindbrain. Women rarely win staring contests, except when they want sex. Or when they’re accusing you of cheating.
• The Symbolic Suggestion. When a woman suggests “Let’s have the red wine instead of beer” or “Let’s move to the bedroom, it’s sunnier in there” or “Let’s light the candles to save electricity”, it means “Let’s have sex”. “Let’s flush the toilet after a leaving behind a giant deuce” does NOT mean “Let’s have sex”. Learned that the hard way.
• The Unprompted Shoe Removal. Here’s an important tip, gentlemen. When you have brought a girl back to your place or you have gone to hers, pay close attention to how soon she removes her shoes. If she takes hers off quickly upon settling in, you have good chance for intimacy.
• The “Wow, I could use a backrub” Bonk Over The Head. This one is obvious. When she starts rubbing her neck and complaining about her hard day at work, it is NOT your cue to give her an extended backrub that hurts your hands. It IS, however, your cue to give her a two second shoulder grasp, followed immediately by a cupping of her tits from behind. Note: Longtime married men should take into consideration that the wife would really prefer the backrub to sex. Sorry, hubbies. Shoulda listened to me.
• The Aunt Jemima Channeling. Pancakes are no fun without Aunt Jemima’s. “Do you know what would really go great with this new king-sized bed we just bought?” Don’t wait for an answer. She’s not giving it.
• The Snake Hiss. When you come up behind her to scratch her head or briefly rub her shoulder, she’ll inhale an exaggerated hissing sound of pleasure — SSSSSSssssssss — that means she wants more. A lot more.
• The Campbell’s Soup Song. Give your woman a kiss. After the kiss, if she’s still leaning forward with half-closed eyes and saying something like “Mm mm mm, that was good” you can translate that as “Mm mm mm, I need a deep sea drilling.”
• And finally, one of my personal favorites: The “I’m Horny” State of the Union Address. When a girl is superhorny and she just doesn’t have the patience for subtler means of communicating her arousal, she will sometimes stare blankly into space and announce, unceremoniously and without untoward inflection to no one in particular, “I’m horny”. She will say this with a hint of exasperation even, but she will never say it to you directly, even if you are standing one foot in front of her. In that case, she will turn her head 90 degrees to the left and declare her horniness to an invisible audience of psychotherapists. Under no circumstance should you respond “You are?” This will kill her horniness faster than a weeping beta with a microchub. Don’t grab her right away either. Wait a minute to grant her a plenury indulgence from her brazen suggestiveness, and then pounce. Skip foreplay. You’ll discover upon first grasp an angry swollen river of passion already swallowing your kayak whole.

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