Why There Is A Gender Gap

Take a look at these charts of ill portent:

Since about 1964, the gap between women and men in their identification with the Democrat Party and their Democrat voting patterns has been steadily increasing, with the increase especially pronounced starting in the mid 1990s. And as a friendly reminder, single women voted for Obama by a canyon-sized margin of 70%-29%.

There are a few predominant reasons for the gender gap, which I explained lucidly in this post. In short, women are voting more Democrat because the Democrat Party is the prime force for turning the government into the world’s biggest provider beta. From the time of the “sexual revolution” (which was really a “sexual devolution” back towards pre-agricultural mating norms when 80% of the women and 40% of the highest testosterone men reproduced) women have been more free to choose mating opportunities based on their gina tingles and the economic and social empowerment granted, respectively, by their pointless humanities degrees and the disintegration of traditional slut shaming mechanisms. The life of serial monogamy and alpha cock hopping has never been more attainable for the average American woman, and the result has been predictable: Women are substituting the beta males they no longer want or need for marriage with a Big Brother Daddy government to help them foot the child-raising bills that their PUA, drug running and serial killer lovers won’t.

Lest you’re tempted to blame the badboy bandits for not contributing their share, remember that women enter into relationships with these types of guys KNOWING FULL WELL they cannot be depended upon for support, and not even bothering to expect support from them. How often have you wondered why jilted women express more animus for their dumped betaboy child support and alimony paying lickspittles than for the irresponsible jerks who pump and dump them? Thanks to me, now you know why.

My gender gap theory can be refined even further, to get at the very heart of the issue, the fundamental law expressed in nearly every political trend of the past 40 years:

Maxim #66: As men are becoming ever bigger pussies and betas in their dealings with women, they are losing the leverage to shape and push women’s child-like and selfishly amoral political opinions in logical, just and long-term oriented directions.

Eventually, the world created by women will collapse, as all worlds built strictly on conceited, single-minded pragmatism utterly blind to the bigger picture must. The Democrat Party is merely the fool’s tool that fully emancipated women use to craft their poison utopia. As there are more women and joyriding alpha males than there are beta males, this collapse is inevitable, barring a violent revolution that discredits the philosophy of the voting booth.

Questions arise. Is it good for humanity if a socially enforced monogamous marriage system gives 90+% of men access to pussy and the replication of their genes? Had this been the case throughout prehistory, we modern humans might never have evolved. We are here in our present form because a majority of men (and some women) were denied, often cruelly, often tragically, a chance at reproduction. The sacrifice in blood and in psychological torment and emotional despair of countless distant ancestors was required to make us human as we now know it. We are living monuments to bloodshed and pain. Praise God and all His glorious works.

So while a mating system where 90% of men reproduce and are thus invested in the outcome of their society, and where women’s dangerously wild sexual and social impulses are partly constrained, has given us the pinnacle of civilization in the West and the East Asian lands, it may also contain the seed of its own demise. The widening gender gap is the canary in the coalmine; it is telling us that the final demise has arrived.

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What Is And Isn’t Rape

On the subject of what *should* constitute rape (not what ugly lesbian feminists wish would qualify as rape), commenter “Game in BK” wrote:

If a girl is drunk and she says yes to sex- it isn’t rape.
If a girl is sober and she says yes to sex-it isn’t rape.

If a girl is sober and she says no- it is rape.
If a girl is drunk and she says no- it is rape.

Yes, this sounds right. Drunkenness is no plenary discharge from personal responsibility. If you are a woman who is worried about getting “date raped” at a frat party filled with drunk horny guys where you will be drinking so much that you won’t be able to give consent or you give drunken consent, it’s up to you to make the choice not to binge drink in that environment. There should be no legally sanctioned “Get out of regret” rape card for women who wake up the next morning ashamed of their behavior.

Note that this does not absolve sober men who take advantage of drunk women who cannot give consent. If a girl is so drunk that she’s lying there comatose, a sober man having sex with her could be fairly charged with rape. But a drunk man would be off the hook. After all, if she is too drunk to consent to sex, he is too drunk to know whether or not she has consented. Which brings us round to personal responsibility again; if you are a woman who is afraid your inner slut might escape to have sex under the influence with a man at a party who is also under the influence, it’s up to you to refrain from drinking a lot or attending that party. The responsibility to remain sober — or at least avoid getting lights out drunk — should not rest solely with the man.

If feminists are truly interested in not being treated like morally undeveloped children under the law, they will agree to my definition of rape. But since feminism is about power dynamics and not at all about fairness or justice, they will never agree with me. That is why feminists are discredited.

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Hero

Maybe I should start an ‘Alpha of the Month’ series. Check out this guy:

A man who stopped paying alimony payments to his Clay County ex-wife five years ago and moved to Indonesia — out of the reach of law enforcement — was arrested Friday when he returned to town for a wedding.

The Clay County Sheriff’s Office said David Evans owes his wife $188,000 in alimony payments.

$188,000. Say it to yourself. ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-EIGHT THOUSAND. For saying “I do”. There is not a woman alive whose blowjob technique merits $188,000 in recompense. The alimony payday is state-sanctioned theft, pure and simple.

I’ve long advocated that should you find yourself on the assramming end of the divorce industrial complex, your best bet is to shift your assets overseas and leave the country. Our hero flipped the bird at our anti-male laws, and for that, I salute him. The fact that he slipped up and stupidly returned to the US five years later for a wedding (irony alert) shouldn’t detract from his admirable heroism in the field of battle. I bestow upon him the greatest honor a man can receive — membership in the Heartiste Society, including the wrought-iron triskelion ring which will grant him access to the chateau.

If alphas have a ‘look’, then this guy has it:

“STEEEEEELLAAAAA!!!!”

At this point, it hardly matters what this guy did or didn’t do in the run-up to his divorce. He may have cheated, lied and stolen, or his wife may have boffed his cousin. The marriage culture has degenerated to such a nadir that these piddling he said-she said details are of little concern in the face of the larger injustice. Absent children and proof of fault, there is no good reason a man should owe his ex-wife ONE RED CENT in the event of a divorce. If she stayed at home becoming best friends with Oprah instead of advancing in a pointless public relations career, that is her body her choice, and the consequences are hers to grapple with. To believe otherwise is to believe that the state should treat women like children, incapable of accounting for their own life choices. And if that’s the standard by which the state will act with regards to women’s post-marital entitlements, then I suggest the state extend its paternalistic logic to other realms in which women operate. A repeal of female voting rights would be a good start.

If a woman initiates divorce from a man and children are involved, unless she can prove fault by her husband she should not even get child support. I can already hear the disingenuous whining. “But the children will suffer! Think of the children!” If the children are suffering she can always stay with her husband, give them to the husband if she decides to ditch him, or put the kids up for adoption. If she wishes to give the kids to the ex-husband, but he’d rather not have his freedom and funtime curtailed by babysitting duties (and I wouldn’t blame him), *and* the divorce was his fault, he can have the option of paying child support in lieu of physically raising them.

Any woman who has a problem with what I wrote has revealed herself to be a leech intent on riding the gravy train. Humans will cling to nothing as tenaciously as a structurally advantageous power position. In America 2009, the emergent marriage and divorce conspiracy is such an obviously raw deal for men that it’s a wonder they still bother. The fear must be strong in many men. If I were the hypothetical leader of this conspiracy, I would target young, religious men for marriage who were too naive to know any better.

There are ways to save marriage, but I can sleep easy at night knowing no one will take up the cause. My lifestyle will remain unchallenged.

To recap: Don’t get married. At least when you break up with a girlfriend you don’t have to provide her with a retirement plan.

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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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Your Gay Doom

A reader forwarded me this Washington DC Craigslist ad from the W4M section:

LTR wanted ..but not romance – 40

---

Reply to: xxx
Date: 2009-04-19, 2:53PM EDT

OK … before some men get all in an uproar, I will tell you that this is totally sincere, so please, no bashing. I am a divorced mother of two who would like a LTR (friendship, obviously) with a sincere, genuine gay man. He needs a woman on his arm for, well, any number of reasons, it doesn’t matter to me. I am well aware of how the world works. I am not without means, but I am in need of other “support”. I’m tired of the way straight guys treat me, I want a best friend who is supportive and interested. Maybe we can help each other. I know this sounds crazy, but lets face it, a lot of what is on this site is nuts! I am articulate, attractive, slender, brunette, educated, and have a sarcastic,wicked sense of humor. I can keep up in most conversations, and am willing to do the homework needed to be done if I feel I cannot. I am willing to relocate, ready for a fresh start…no one knows me…I’m new in town. I just want a stable, friendly, supportive relationship, no drama. To be needed, appreciated, and to give that back to someone. Is this possible? Again, no offence intended to anyone. Please put “SINCERE” in your reply with a pic (if you want mine) or you will be deleted.

***********

I predict we will be seeing a lot more of this in the coming decades as the culture shifts to de facto polygamy. Bitter divorcees, cougars, single moms, urban slut machines, aging yentas, used up playettes, trend whores and Samantha cliches all seeking the gossipy witty banter, emotional frivolity and fashion expertise of a gay boyfriend. Get ready for a tsunami of women scrambling to adopt their very own Best Gay Boyfriend (BGBF) so they can lock arms asexually and skip down M Street while window shopping for SWPL “antique” necklaces and giggling about penis varieties.

But it won’t be easy for women like the one in the CL ad above. Only 2-3% of men Nair their assholes and know what fuschia looks like, so women will be fighting over a very small demographic. Since I am a man of great generosity and kindness, I will offer advice to these women on how to get a leg up over the competition.

• Don’t be needy.

Yes, ladies, you are now in the position of the man chasing the woman. A gay man has his pick of the annoyingly sarcastic slut with emotional baggage litter, while you are stuck having to chase down a tiny pool of gay men for fabulously platonic commitment. Your neediness will send him running faster than a string of desperate voicemails at 3AM. I predict you will fail at this, since most women have little experience in the psychological art of practiced aloofness. Talk to your alpha guy friends for tips and tricks.

• Expect to share.

If your BGBF tells you he’s spending the afternoon with (the much better dresser) Tiffany, you’ll just have to suck it up. Don’t pout and don’t pressure. Know that you are one among many and be glad that you get a few hours each week of your BGBF’s emotional jizz.

• Be hot.

True, gay men don’t want to sleep with you, but they are aficionados of the aesthetic. They want arm candy they can dress up in size 0 clothes and admire like an art collector admires a great painting. Uglies and fatties need not apply. Might I suggest for them the Best Lesbian Girlfriend (BLGF)?

• Learn to flatter.

Many playettes and stuck-up whores have forgotten how to flatter, so used to receiving flattery are they from beta chumps their whole lives. The BGBF will not tolerate your coy circumspection. He has too many prospects who will give him the ego boosting compliments his attention whoring soul craves for him to put up with less than obsequious suckassery from you. Pucker up, bitch!

• Accept cheating.

If you catch your BGBF cheating with another girlfriend, you have no choice but to swallow your pride. Remember, you are an accessory to his life; if you get in the way of his doing what he wants when he wants, he will dump you forthwith. There is no getting between a gay man and his hedonism.

• Cultivate a thick skin.

A BGBF will let you know when the first hint of cottage cheese dimples your ass. He has no reason to sugarcoat anything, since he’s not trying to get in your hole. Take his constructive criticism with stoicism and shed those bottled-up tears late at night when you’re alone with your cat. He”ll lick your salty tears up.

I just noticed in the CL ad that the divorced mother of two is “willing to relocate, ready for a fresh start”. What a selfish bitch. She’s willing to pull her kids away from their father, their friends and a stable environment so she can spend more time with a fag swapping ego assuaging compliments. If this doesn’t say it all about the depths to which American women have degenerated, I don’t know what does. She must have been a repeat pump and dump victim during her 20s and 30s for her to have nursed such bitterness toward straight men. No doubt when she says she’s tired of the way straight guys treat her, she means she’s too old to get alphas to commit to her and now at the overripe age of 40 needs a compliant beta provider to help her raise her bastard children.

“[I] am willing to do the homework needed to be done if I feel I cannot.” It’s funny how eagerly a woman will bend over backwards to please a man when her market position is weakened. The next time you’re on a date, act as if she needs to do the homework needed to earn your attention. That is the alpha attitude that creams girls’ panties.

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How To Sell Yourself To Girls

Lie to me, I promise I’ll believe…

I had a friend who was a stockbroker. He was good at his craft. When anyone asked him his secret to success, he always said “How do I kill in this business? Practice. In college, I had to sell myself to the girls!”

There are very few jobs or hobbies that, if described with 100% candor, would intrigue a girl to pussy exploding abandon. Espionage is one. President of the United States is another. You can’t go wrong with jewel thief either. But for most aspiring ladykillers, the word of the day is embellish.

Here’s how this works. Let’s say you’re a CAD monkey architect and your hobbies are biking to Whole Foods for smelly French cheese, building computers, and masturbating. Your only travel experience is a vacation to Turks and Caicos. (You’re in good company. This describes 98% of men.) Now most girls, if they’re interested, want to know what you do. They have a dedicated neural network pulsating in the pastel-colored folds of their girly brains that impels them to suss out how a man makes his living and how he goes about living. But, being women, they also have a contradictory twin neural matrix that would rather you not tell them the whole, eye-glazing truth. Their need to scrutinize is held in check by their need to fantasize. So this is what you tell her:

“Oh, I’m a creator. I guess you could say I bring together art and science in the design of living space. You heard of feng shui? I’m all about it. That’s the life of a cutting edge architect. My hobbies? I mountain bike competitively. There’s nothing like the rush of careening down a muddy, rocky trail in the scenic wilderness of a rugged foreign land, the giant fronds of tropical plants slapping you in the face along the way. It’s breathtaking! I’m also something of an electronics whiz and once tried to hack into a Chinese government website back when I was a rebellious kid. Some people say I’m a very passionate guy, so much so that I can hardly contain my passion. And to tell you the truth, it gets me in trouble more often than not.”

See? Not too truthful, not too deceitful. Like Baby Bear’s porridge, juuuuuust right.

Another example:

Real You: Intern at psychiatric hospital, avid music downloader, 70s porn lover.

Embellished You: Investigator of human social dynamics under stress, music critic and indie scene connoisseur (or DJ in a pinch), erotic art collector.

Women want the varnished truth. Every man with an ounce of common sense about women and a healthy streak of amoralism will polish his sales pitch. Even Brad Pitt glosses over The Mexican. It’s a testament to how ignorant the majority of men are about women’s motivations that so many of them won’t or can’t embellish their lives in service to their loins. They think in their honesty they are being virtuous, but they are only being boring, lazy and bland.

Some men will wonder how long the pretty lies can remain undiscovered. What if you want an LTR with a girl? She’ll find out eventually, right? Wrong. First, most girls don’t really want the 411 on the dirty little details of your tiresome lifestory or career, unless they suspect you of cheating. They *like* the ruse. Second, as long as they aren’t working in the same office with you they will never really know what you do. And you know what? They don’t want to.

Maxim #39: Never tell a girl how much you make, even if you’re loaded. In case of marriage, keep separate accounts.

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My Time Inside The Housing Bubble

A few years ago I briefly toyed with the idea of getting a second job on the side for some quick and easy supplemental bling. Acting on a tip from a friend, I walked into the office of a mortgage broker in northern Virginia to begin my second life as an intermediary taking advantage of information bottlenecks and client ignorance.

The president mob boss of the small company was a short Vietnamese man with manic energy, a giant gold watch, and a quick tongue. I mentioned my referral and, after sizing me up, he told me there would be an all-hands meeting in a half hour and I was invited to sit in and see if this business appealed to me.

I scanned the office. Lots of empy cubicles with flickering monitors full of excel spreadsheets being operated by invisible employees. Along the wall were closed door offices with nameplates designating various positions – VP this, VP that, CFO (!), Executive manager. Really? I popped my head into one office and another South Asian greeted me. We bantered a bit then he showed me his trophies and certificates for excellence in mortgage brokering. A huge photo of him sitting in his Ferrari hung prominently behind his desk. He noticed me checking it out and said it took him only three years to build his client list to reach the point he could buy that beauty — all it required was a solid work ethic. He was wearing a Rolex.

Just prior to the meeting a tall white guy with a frat boy striped shirt approached me and stuck out his hand. I asked him what he thought of the business. He told me what it was like getting loans for marginal clients and how to deal with Countrywide. He said he was 27 years old and was planning on making 2 million for himself by the time he hit 30. Business was so good he had no doubt his goal would be reached. He talked of a luxurious retirement by age 40.

We all sat down in a semi-circle in a large conference room. The only white guys were me and Mr. Early Retirement. There were four women, three East Asians and one white chick who looked Italian by background. The rest of the group was a polyglot of East Asian, Vietnamese or Thai, Hispanic and indeterminate ethnicity men. The two Vietnamese/Thai guys wore the sharpest suits of the bunch. Crisp like new dollar bills.

The high energy Vietnamese don entered and began a free form discussion of life in the commission based mortgage broker business. Acronyms and jargon were flying — MTAs, COFI loans, COSI arms, A-paper, Alt-A, subprime (this was before the housing bubble burst, so the word subprime didn’t trigger instant suspicion at the time), DUs, Full Doc, SIVA, SISA, No Ratio (later learned this meant no stated income), No Doc, PITI, origination fee (fancy word for screwing the client with a skim off the top), PMI, DTI, NVAR, and on and on.

Then the Vietdon looked carefully around the room, eyeballing each one of us.

“This is good, very good.” He was smiling and nodding his head. “The way it works here is simple. Trust. You earn the client’s trust and your business takes off. They trust you, they sign on the dotted line. So, for instance…” He pointed at the Asian women. “These ladies are assigned to female clients. Asian women in particular. They will trust them.”

The Asian girls snickered and one uncrossed and crossed her legs. I watched her crotch as she did this.

The Vietdon continued. “And my boys over there…” The Hispanic guys laughed. “They get the Hispanic clients. This is the way it works in this business. Now let’s be real. Most of our Hispanic clients aren’t high rollers. They’re struggling, making ends meet. They got families. They need houses to put those families in. They work hard. To get them to sign on the dotted line…” (He loved that expression.) “…you’ve got to put their minds at ease that you’re looking out for them. They trust someone who looks like them, you know?”

More nods of agreement from the Jose contingent.

“Then we’ve got our white guys.” At saying this, the Vietdon smiled broadly. “You guys, you go out in the field with a casual button down, one button at the top undone, nice shoes, real tall all-American look, and people with money trust you. I get some white clients… not too many because, you know, we mostly deal with the underserviced community…” (The group chuckled.) “…and these white clients feel comfortable dealing with a white agent. It is what it is, right? No morality tales here, we just do what brings in the business. I think we can all agree on that.” Heads nodded in unison. “It’s a little different for our Asian clients. They want to see their agents dressed in shiny pressed suits at all times. Isn’t that right, Phung!” Laughter from everyone.

“This is a good time to be in the brokerage business. The money is there. Work hard, make your calls, show up at the houses for that extra attention people love, and you can see a nice little profit for yourself.” With that, the Vietdon ended the meeting.

I showed up at the office for three more weeks, then decided it reminded me too much of cold calling old people over dinner to sell investment advice. Something about the whole operation felt sleezy, like an Amway scheme. I didn’t think the odds of me scoring easy money on the side were that great, at least not with this firm, so I abandoned the mission.

Two years later, the housing bubble burst spectacularly. Today, I wonder why all those really smart guys back then propping up the mortgage brokerage business on phantom assumptions couldn’t see the sleeziness in what they were doing like I could after only a half hour inside the business. Or maybe they did and didn’t care. And I wonder if Mr. Early Retirement achieved his goal.

Despite the unsavory nature of the brokerage business, I have respect for the Vietdon. He knew the score and didn’t shy away from it. He told it like it is. He probably violated every anti-discrimination law on the books, but he made money while the making was good.

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