Exploiting Peeple To Pick Up Girls

Peeple is a new app in a long line of privacy destroying, character assassinating, surveillance state facilitating, attention whore enabling apps that went live recently and promises to hasten the end of Western Civilization.

For those in the dark, Peeple is a human ranking app. Character is currency on Peeple.

When the app does launch, probably in late November, you will be able to assign reviews and one- to five-star ratings to everyone you know: your exes, your co-workers, the old guy who lives next door. You can’t opt out — once someone puts your name in the Peeple system, it’s there unless you violate the site’s terms of service. And you can’t delete bad, inaccurate or biased reviews — that would defeat the whole purpose.

Imagine every interaction you’ve ever had suddenly open to the scrutiny of the Internet public.

Naturally, two nosy broads co-founded the company.

After public outcry, Peeple caved on their initial negative review guidelines and apparently users can now contest posted bad reviews. (Good luck with that.) Also, you have to have a registered Peeple account for negative reviews to show; otherwise only positive reviews are displayed.

Comment from James:

Assuming this app is successful, what new markets would it create or change?

1. phone numbers and email addresses become sacred. A cloaking device which hides numbers/addresses could be installed on each phone. if you’re in proximity to someone else, you could accept that person’s handle name, without ever know their contact details. You or this person could block each other if things turn sour.

2. The demand for multiple names would go up. People will develop separate names for family, friends, work, the State and relationships. This will become a headache for, not only the authorities, but also banks and courts. It will resemble something like the Native American naming system. Pick-up Artists have already figured this out.

3. The demand for social media declines. (I feel like we’ve already reached peak social media, but that’s just me.)

I’ve been saying that full suite anonymizing apps and network privacy solutions with shallow learning curves will be the next big thing, because the market for them is YUGE and untapped. TOR and TAILS and VPNs are great, but they are still only usable by a small minority of tech-savvy customers sufficiently motivated to search for and install these cloaking devices. The average American 1. doesn’t fully grasp the nature of the online threat to his privacy and identity and 2. doesn’t have the time or smarts to grapple with the privacy-enhancing tools currently available.

To any budding entrepreneurs with an interest in cyber anonymizing, this is your moment. A simple, one-click app that can effectively conceal online identity from corporations, government, and psychostalker exes will absolutely COMMAND customer response and loyalty. Why there’s nothing like it yet is a mystery to me.

Anyhow, as James hinted at, Peeple is an exciting new exploit for pickup artists. If Peeple gets a reputation for aliases, then any girl using it would not be able to discern a regular Peepler from a PUA Peepler. Sowing that much confusion allows the sneaky fucker with the 007 alias to operate with plausible deniability. Imagine a girlishly tentative post-coital inquiry: “Your name’s not John?” “Oh yeah, that’s not my real name. You know how it is on Peeple. No one uses their real names.”

Another advantage of Peeple to PUAs is, of course, the ability to manipulate its review system and thus girls’ perceptions. Fake female accounts to add positive rankings to one’s profile would trigger the “preselected by women” algorithm in curious viewers. Or, the aspiring modren womanizer could try the opposite tack and flood his profile with low rankings and conspicuously bitter butthurt reviews that read like the pained regrets of disgruntled ex-girlfriends and puzzled one night stands. This “jerkboy verification” via third party bitching has a powerful effect on spectating girls — especially the younger, hotter, tighter, asshole-adoring girls that every man really wants — who will be drawn, uncontrollably, to a bad man who has left such a lengthy trail of broken hearts.

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Game In The Bible

Reader/prophet Moses discovers a powerful Game concept swaddled in the pages of the Bible.

I got thoroughly red pilled several years ago. Then I read the Bible straight through.

I was struck by the Old Testament. Some of my takeaways (your mileage may vary):

– Religion is a powerful force for social structure and order. It grants special privileges to those at the top (e.g. the Levites) who then have a vested interest in its perpetuation.

– All the rules about what you can wear, what you can eat, how much to sacrifice to G-d, blah blah in the Book of Deuteronomy boil down to one game concept — Compliance. Getting people to follow small, meaningless rules conditions them to accept authority and follow larger rules. My conclusion was that rules in all religions, not just Judaism, are about reinforcing compliance.

The small rules act as kind of a buffer or a moat encircling the big rules, the idea behind them being that it’s harder to violate the big rules if you first have to violate a thicket of smaller rules. So the concentric circles of increasingly inviolable taboos is both a conditioning agent and a defense against committing grave sin (like foam party funtimes).

So yes, reinforcing compliance is the name of the Biblical (and pickup) Game. As it is with a man seducing a woman, God’s seduction of his creation enlists an intertwined web of Game techniques that arouse and compel an urge to please and to submit to Him. Compliance hoops are an important weapon in the pickup artist’s arsenal of allure because they are so effective at stirring the feeling in a woman that she is in the company of a man worthy of her womb. If she’s complying, she’s investing, and if she’s investing her efforts to please a man then that man must be a winner.

Man follows the Biblical rules and he is persuaded by his compliance and his obedience that God must exist, and that He is Great and Good and All-Powerful. Why would Man comply with the directives of a sniveling, powerless loser?

Just as Man opens his soul to a demanding God, so too does Woman open her hole to a demanding Man.

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One Glaring Difference Between Alpha Males And Beta Males

Alpha males are DEMANDING of their women.

They bark orders, issue commands, set expectations, and aren’t afraid to show disappointment if their expectations aren’t met. They will correct their women’s mistakes and rebuke errors of judgment firmly, sometimes fiercely, and without hesitation.

I was reminded of this everlasting reality of sexual market male hierarchy while overhearing a shitlord-esque man instruct his pretty girlfriend in proper dog-training technique. The two of them were at a park, working with their rambunctious mutt. It was her turn to extract obedience from the dog, and it wasn’t going well. At every misstep, her boyfriend would quickly intervene to tell her what she was doing wrong, and how she should do it right.

He wasn’t shy about chastising and correcting her, either. He came off like a drill sergeant, and an impatient know-it-all. I would say his demeanor was borderline asshole. Which means that she adored him. When they left, she playfully slapped his backside and giggled, presumably in anticipation of a later retribution.

Women WANT to work for a man’s interest. A man’s respect. A man’s LOVE. A man who challenges women is a man who is rewarded with women’s zeal to please. This is the nature of women.

And it is the nature of beta males to misunderstand the nature of women. Or, when they do understand it, to fear it and therefore fail to tame it. You will never see a beta male confidently, even impudently, demand anything — a norm of behavior, preferred treatment, effort towards a task — from a woman he is dating. He will never LEAD a woman. He will typically appease, and only make passive-aggressive demands of a woman when his fuse is short and his (self-)anger bubbling over.

Beta males don’t like to demand anything of anyone, but especially not of women. Strangers, acquaintances, girlfriends, wives; none will ever experience the distinctly female pleasure of deferring and submitting to a man if that man is a fearful, non-confrontational beta male. And over time resentment and contempt will find a home in these women, and their sexual desire will find a home elsewhere.

I hope that a beta male reading these words is saved today.

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The Pump And Trump

2016 will be the Year of Reckonings. A great schism in the nation opens, a herald rises, and battle fronts coalesce. As a soldier of furrows, it’s time to take up the banner and the hammer of The Trumpening and do your part for the revolution:

The Pump and Trump.

The next time you have your woman post-coitally wrapped in the shelter of your shitlord’s uncucked embrace, gaze contentedly at the ceiling and slowly announce, in a gravelly nut-busted voice, “That was almost as good as making America great again.”

If it’s just after the election when Trump is anointed Supreme Galactic Overlord, say “That was almost as good as voting for Trump”.

The purpose of the Pump and Trump is two-fold: one, any shrieky silly SJW/SWPL feminist freaks with nonetheless fuckable figures (rare, I know) will be sufficiently offended by your declaration that they will self-remove from your life, post-pump. A no muss, no fuss gruffly stuffed muff buff.

Two, you will know love if she reacts with peals of delight, or even an amused exasperation. This woman is a keeper, and she will stand by your side whispering words of encouragement as you prepare to crest the paradigm shift to victory and glory with the Trumpentroops.

The Pump and Trump: Make American Women Sated Again.

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The Show

Commenter quixotic, in the middle of a field report about meeting a girl in a phone store, mentioned an interesting aspect of pickup that another reader, Putin, refers to as “the show”.

The weirdest part was feeling every man and women in the store watching me or trying to listen to us. They could see that smirk on me, the way she constantly giggled and flipped her hair, the way she got a little nervous at times, her female co-worker and her did that thing where girls look at each other for a second to say “are you seeing this?” “yes!” when they thought I wasn’t looking and it all went like fucking clockwork. Thank you for all you have taught me CH.

This is an under-appreciated facet of public flirting that a few men feed on, but most men find daunting. Approach anxiety isn’t just fear of how a woman will react to being hit on; it’s also fear of how onlookers will react. Will they laugh? Point and whisper among themselves? The thought of a public shaming can drive many a man to eject from potential love scenarios that he otherwise would have followed through on if the only participants were himself and the girl.

Quixotic sounds like the type of man who is energized by The Show. Many extroverts, naturals, politicians, and salesmen are like this. The approval of the crowd/coworkers motivates almost as much as the approval of the woman/customer who inspires the lustful/avaricious approach.

These men are in the minority. Most (White) men are introverts, who shudder thinking about all the ways The Show can go wrong for them. A select few truly relish the Klieg lights. Most would rather perform their seduction art in a secluded location, away from the heat of audience expectation.

My advice to introverts trying to hurdle the mental stumbling block of The Show on the way to a public romantic flirtation is to continually remind themselves that people are watching not out of judgment, but envy. Envy that they don’t have the balls to do what you’re doing. Think that, and you’ll feel your…heart… stiffen for battle. Even if the pickup goes south, you’ll have the pride of knowing you busted a move while The Show watched immobile from the sidelines.

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Facials And The Commitment-Worthiness Of Women

Can we spare a moment for some brisk Realtalk that’s liable to send a certain contingent reaching for their smelling salts? Facials are hot. The giving of them, if you’re a man (or a man not named John Scalzi). The receiving of them, if you’re a woman (or a man named John Scalzi).

Check that, if you’re a certain kind of woman.

Depraved though facials may be, there’s no denying the act’s electrifying sexual charge. A facial is the Pollock splattered symbol of incontestable ownership by the man of his woman. It isn’t the Christian thing to do, but damn me if the devil’s bedroom blueprint isn’t a schematic leading straight to the jizz-soaked id.

The catch-22 is that the woman who will eagerly welcome into her face and upturned eyes the beatific brandishing of your white hot boner brew is not the woman you’d trust to leave alone for more than a week without a champion series labia lock set to impregnable.

It is the reality of woman: she who most excites your manly humors is she who least assures your manly honor.

My advice: If you love a woman, and you love the idea of giving her a facial, try it out. If she allows it, but only after expressing an initial and thereafter rolling reluctance, (i.e., she puts up some resistance and isn’t parting at the lips to try it again), she’s your long time gal instead of your good time gal.

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“Who Bitch This Is?”, Redux

“Who Bitch This Is?” stands as the battle cry of a resurgent patriarchy. Now we have another entrant to add to the glorious WBTI revolution.

The referring reader writes,

This story reminds me of the video of the black guy who was confronted by a fat feminist at a gaming tournament.  He ignored her and looked for the responsible man by asking “Who bitch this is?”

In this video some guy stands by while his she-whale of a girl friend gets in the face of some guy.  The guy beats the crap out of the boyfriend.

Control your women CH readers.

It’s an ugly video (in all ways), so prepare yourselves. A sheboon shoggoth starts the fight, and an all-too-typical Black Lives Shatter scene of chaos erupts. The large city worker answers the woman’s taunts by pummeling her weak husband into submission.

An infuriated straphanger restrained himself when a foul-mouthed woman showered him with obscenities and saliva aboard a subway train in the Bronx. Clearly reluctant to strike the woman, he took it out on her spouse.

“I won’t hit a b—h,” the enraged straphanger shouted as he stood with both fists raised in a boxing stance. “But I will f–k your (man) up.”

Is this Black White Knighting? I don’t think it qualifies. He’s not coming to the pigwoman’s defense. He’s acknowledging (in his high-browed way) that his strength could seriously smash a woman – even one as fat as this charming specimen – to death. And so he has deemed it necessary to attack her via proxy, (sort of like how Muslim tribes get revenge by attacking family members of foes — Muslims, like this black man, understand that enemies don’t act in a vacuum; they are supported and enabled by a network of relations).

Another angry passenger asks the woman to get off the train as they idle on the tracks.

“Someone’s gonna have to give me my $2.75,” the passenger finally snaps, referring to the cost of a single ride on the train.

😆

As the situation escalated, the woman’s husband tried helplessly to calm the situation.

“Yo, chill, man,” he said as no one paid any attention.

Black beta male. They exist. A man’s woman is so very revealing of his character. Take up with a disgusting blob of crass stupidity and people will assume you’re a beta loser. And most of the time, they’ll be right.

On balance, I think it’s an idea whose time has come for the weak, supplicating beta male partners of repulsive anti-social women to be held partly responsible for their women’s shit behavior. Maybe if these betas paid a price for their unmanly submission to gross, stampeding wildebeests we’d begin to see fewer of these self-entitled women despoiling the public space.

How many women will posture like enraged gorillas when they don’t have the security blanket, however tattered, of a beta boyfriend lurking alongside? I bet not too many.

Who bitch this is? No one’s? Ok, then. *SLAM THE CLAM*

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