FYI #2: George Sodini Was Not A Pickup Artist

To all the femdopes suffering from post traumatic reading incomprehension currently linking to my last few series of posts about George Sodini and menstruating indignantly all over the internet, you should get your logic straight before flapping your gums:

1. George Sodini was not a PUA. He went to an R. Don Steele seminar and sat in the audience with a bunch of other losers in love. Attending a pickup workshop and sitting in the audience listening to R. Don Steele for a few hours does not make one a pickup artist, nor does it make one a murderer. Becoming a pickup artist requires months of learning and real world practice to see consistently positive results. We have no evidence that Sodini did either.
2. It is not incitement to murder nor is it an expression of misogyny to observe that Sodini might not have gone on a killing spree had he learned effective game and diligently applied it to his dealings with women to boost his confidence, land a few dates, and relieve his 20 year dry spell. Currently, game is being used successfully by millions of non-murderous men the world over to improve their love lives. It may have even been used successfully on you.
3. Loose cannon psychopaths walk among us. Get used to it. See: Lorena Bobbitt.
4. You’re still femtards.

Yours in unreconstructed evil.

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FYI

I can’t believe this has to be said, but…

in the matter of sex and love, to appropriate a quote from Bill Munny: “Deservin’s got nothing to do with it”.

So to all you twisted freaks and neomaxizimdweebies, stop and think before fingerpainting your neuroses all over the comment section.

Thanku.

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Henry Louis Gates Junior

We all knew that weirdo loner kid from seventh grade. He was the strange kid who shuffled around the hallways with his head down, and always sat in the desk as far away from everyone else as possible. Sometimes bullies would pick on him, but mostly the other kids ignored him. He hardly ever spoke, and never rose his hand in class to offer an answer to a question. Nobody knew what he was thinking, and nobody cared, not even the teachers. But he nursed silent grudges, lots of them. Grudges against the popular kids he thought were always talking behind his back plotting his demise, against the cute girls who never acknowledged him, against authority figures who didn’t understand his deep deep pain. These grudges would simmer for months, building to a boil, until one day one of the cool kids accidentally bumped into him while he was standing at his locker, and he turned around in a rage, his eyes on fire, and rained blows down upon that kid, screaming obscenities at the top of his cracking voice. The outburst startled everyone who witnessed it. A teacher rushed up, dragging him away from his hapless victim lying on the floor.

Henry Louis Gates Junior is that weirdo loner kid.

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Visualizing Herb

Oh man, this picture of a herb doing what comes naturally is almost too gruesome to contemplate:

[For this post we have a guest appearance by the judges from ‘American Idol’]

Simon: Paula, your thoughts.

Paula: I think they look cute together. He’s different, he’s unique. I like him.

Simon: [rolls eyes] Randy?

Randy: Dawg, this herb is doing his thing.

Paula: The chin cradle shows real love. [starts to cry] What the world needs are more herbs like him.

Randy: [addressing supine herb] I’m feeling ya, dawg, but dawg, maybe you could, you know, tone it down a bit, you know what I mean dawg?

Simon: Well, I think this herb is dreadful. His puffy face, his soft plush body of a woman, his chipmunk cheeks… just horrible. If I wanted to see something soft and cuddly lay down in the fetal position and rest its noggin in a woman’s lap to be stroked and petted I would get her a fluffy bunny rabbit. The rabbit would probably have bigger balls.

Paula: Simon! That’s mean.

Randy: [to herb] You know, he’s got a point dawg. In the hood, guys like you would get turned upside down by our bitches for your pocket change.

Simon: Randy speaks for the hood about as much as I do.

Paula: [to herb] I think you look fine. You are doing what two people in love do.

Simon: [to Paula] But does he make your gina tingle?

Paula: Simon!

Randy: That’s a “No”, dawg! [Randy high fives Simon]

Simon: [to herb] Look, a word of advice. If you want this girl to stick around, you need to stop acting like a bowl of Jell-O. That means stop planting your face in her lap like a cat. Man up! Her face should be in your lap, nibbling your knob. Especially in public, for god’s sake!

Herb: [fat cheeks quivering with anger] Simon, you suck. I love her, and that’s all that matters. Not everyone has to fit into your alpha-beta categories!

Paula: You tell him, herb!

Simon: [herb’s girlfriend crawls out from under the table by Simon’s chair, wiping her mouth] I’m sorry, I was busy. What was that you were saying?

Ryan Seacrest: [to herb] Congratulations, you’re going to suicide watch, my friend!

***

There are only two ways a man can act like this herb without suffering the consequence of major beta heartbreak over and over again:

1. Date an Asian girl, or

2. Date women less attractive than himself.

For those of us who prefer to grab the brass ring and date good-looking girls who have options in the sexual market, nauseating herbitude of the type shown in this photo should be avoided as much as possible. At the very least you shouldn’t snuggle up like an albino Smurf into your girl’s lap in public.

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The Feminization Of The Western White Male

This is a trend that is bursting with fruit flavor.

Dandies have a long and storied history in the Western cultural canon, so these types of androgynous men are nothing new. But the sheer breadth and rapidity of the dandyfication of the 21st century urban Western white male, coupled closely with the pickup artist movement and the rise of game, signifies a profound cultural change. A nancyboy revolution is upon us.

Since women are by genetic dictate the choosers of men in the mating market (note: men do some choosing as well. see: lonely fat chicks), men who dandify themselves are simply responding to women’s choices. If you want to know where men are heading, follow the pussy. The interesting question is not why the urban white (and asian) man in his multicultural milieu is sporting long silky coifs and bejeweled bracelets, but why women are rewarding these men with their sex. I leave the answer as an exercise for the readers. As enlightened warrior-poets of the Republic of Poon you should have a pretty good idea of the hidden forces at work. Hint: No theory about the present day sexual market is complete without acknowledgement of the underestimated impact contraceptives, abortion, female economic empowerment and demographic upheaval have had on Darwinian sexual selection.

As a man who himself has acquired a splash of the dandy’s fashion sense to rave reviews from women, I don’t consider a man a femmed out beta if the NASCAR crowd scoffs. After all, other men are not the ultimate arbiter of what constitutes alphatude; women are. Men are merely proxy agents for judging other men’s alpha cred. But a woman’s open and willing pussy is the judge that matters most. As long as these modern day dandies with their black nail polish, handlebar moustachios and heart-shaped pendants are scoring more tail than your typical herb or aging frat boy swilling Miller Light in front of the TV, they are partaking of alpha privilege.

Not a sermon, just a thought.

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Best Photo of 2009

Yeah, we’ve got nine more months in 2009, but this photo will not be beat.

Can’t fault the polar bear. He knows a delicious blubbery buffet when he sees it.

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Plausible Apocalypse

I watched “Knowing” on a free movie internet database site. It’s about a kid from 50 years ago who predicts the future with dates and locations for tragic events that hadn’t yet occurred. The end times event prophecied by the kid is a giant solar flare that literally scorches the earth to a crisp. It was a silly but entertaining movie.

I wondered about the odds of such an event happening, and if a real life rogue monster solar flare would cause the worldwide firestorm depicted in the movie. Then I read this:

Over the last few decades, western civilisations have busily sown the seeds of their own destruction. Our modern way of life, with its reliance on technology, has unwittingly exposed us to an extraordinary danger: plasma balls spewed from the surface of the sun could wipe out our power grids, with catastrophic consequences.

The projections of just how catastrophic make chilling reading. “We’re moving closer and closer to the edge of a possible disaster,” says Daniel Baker, a space weather expert based at the University of Colorado in Boulder, and chair of the NAS committee responsible for the report.

It is hard to conceive of the sun wiping out a large amount of our hard-earned progress. Nevertheless, it is possible. The surface of the sun is a roiling mass of plasma – charged high-energy particles – some of which escape the surface and travel through space as the solar wind. From time to time, that wind carries a billion-tonne glob of plasma, a fireball known as a coronal mass ejection. If one should hit the Earth’s magnetic shield, the result could be truly devastating.

A coronal mass ejection causing the deaths of tens of millions? Yes, but not by firestorm. By a total disruption of services.

The second problem is the [electricity] grid’s interdependence with the systems that support our lives: water and sewage treatment, supermarket delivery infrastructures, power station controls, financial markets and many others all rely on electricity. Put the two together, and it is clear that a repeat of the Carrington event could produce a catastrophe the likes of which the world has never seen.

[…]

First to go – immediately for some people – is drinkable water. Anyone living in a high-rise apartment, where water has to be pumped to reach them, would be cut off straight away. For the rest, drinking water will still come through the taps for maybe half a day. With no electricity to pump water from reservoirs, there is no more after that.

There is simply no electrically powered transport: no trains, underground or overground. Our just-in-time culture for delivery networks may represent the pinnacle of efficiency, but it means that supermarket shelves would empty very quickly – delivery trucks could only keep running until their tanks ran out of fuel, and there is no electricity to pump any more from the underground tanks at filling stations.

Back-up generators would run at pivotal sites – but only until their fuel ran out. For hospitals, that would mean about 72 hours of running a bare-bones, essential care only, service. After that, no more modern healthcare.

The article goes on to describe more nightmarish consequences of an unanticipated CME. And how difficult and time-consuming it is to replace the transformers fried by a massive solar plasma ball of death. Our entire way of life — the decadence of our modern economy — would begin to grind to a halt within days of the event. You wouldn’t even be able to recharge your Ipod. The SWPLs would be running around useless like chickens with their heads cut off.

Right now, the only countermeasure we have is NASA’s ACE orbiter probe which can relay information about solar activity to earth with 15- 45 minutes of warning of any incoming solar storms. But this probe is old and failing. And a huge CME can travel much faster than a typical geomagnetic storm, leaving our power companies with too little warning to prepare by either shutting down or re-routing the electrical systems.

This should be a priority for NASA before any manned space flights to Mars. I don’t want my Quake Live interrupted.

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