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I’ve gotta hand it to black women, they have a knack for cutting through (or being unconcerned with) feminist sophistry, to deliver the id vivisecting shiv.

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“George Washington slept here” is a pretty common plaque found at or near historical sites throughout colonial America. As his legend grew, American households which hosted the Great Man for the night were proud to publicly say so, even if his presence in their humble abodes was apocryphal.

Likewise, hot sluts who hosted today’s Great Man — President Donald Trump — in their vaginas are proud to publicly say so, and will go to any lengths to be allowed to preen that their vajeen was a canteen for Trump’s alpha cream.

How many hsmv women has Trump pumped? Trump apparently boffed the entire back catalog of Playboy centerfolds. GAME RECOGNIZED.

Porn whore Stormy Daniels is so desperate to prove that she caught the attention of the world’s most foremost alpha male who used her as a Godseed receptacle that she took a lie detector test, and gave us this timelessly iconic Clockwork Orange-esque pic instead:

Atavator writes,

Game measured! [ed: lol] And by the way, is this a polygraph, or a tit scale? I think this is excellent pictorial representation of just how desperate the establishment is to take Trump down.

Yes, you’ve gotta think that for a number of these women, “Trump slept with me” is their last hurrah. It’s a great study in female psychology. At the time they signed these agreements, they figured they’d have no trouble abiding by them. After all, having concluded their affairs with Trump, they were off to ride other Alpha men. They didn’t foresee… apparently couldn’t foresee… a time when that would be over.

That’s exactly it. This is all sexiness signaling by aging has-beens. The difference between sexiness and sexiness signaling is the same as the difference between virtue and virtue signaling: the former is the real deal while the latter is a claim to being the real deal (but is usually just hypocrisy or self-serving ego stroking). A sexiness signaling woman is admitting she USED to be sexy and tacitly suggesting she MAY still be sexy enough to catch the eye of high value men.

Carlos Danger wonders,

Who rivals Trump’s bedpost notches in terms of quality? DiCaprio? Maybe Brady pre-Gisele? And Trump gets there with 50 more pounds, 30 more years, and the pompadour. Impressive.

If the stories and rumors are true, I don’t think many men can rival both the quality and quantity of Trump’s notch count. The man is as close to a modren day Genghis Khan as a Westerner can be. Wilt Chamberlain? Nah, I read somewhere most of his lays were with ghetto groupie trash. Porfirio Rubirosa might top Trump’s meet-to-lay ratio.

I have to imagine Sinatra is up there.

Wasn’t Sean Connery legendary in his day? Going way back, you’d have to give the nod to Lord Byron, Voltaire, and similar Supreme Gentlemen of the West. Some (pre-indie hipster) stadium rockers could rival Trump’s womanizer score. John Bonham was known for his unreal hotel room orgies. He once said he couldn’t tell which vagina belonged with which face when he was in the middle of a romp.

anon writes,

from the the looks of it, Trump has never slept with an ugly girl in his life.

That’s the small detail that elevates Trump’s womanizing well above the human plane.

A word about Trump’s Women. We have the obvious angle — a cat herd of Wall impact whores looking to cash in on the bottomless appetite of Shitlib, America for salacious stories about Trump’s sexual stamina (Freud would have a field day) while the cashing in is good — and the angle obvious only to Chateau guests: none of these cum dumpsters cumming out of the woodwork now to relive their glory days getting Pump and Trumped, or accusing Trump of allegedly taking their flirtations at face value, were scandalized at the time of the alleged affairs and grandfathered PoundMeToo infractions.

I guarantee that every woman who is now crowing about getting fucked by Trump, or moaning about getting groped by Trump, absolutely, undeniably, LOVED HIS GOD ALPHA ATTENTIONS AT THE TIME THEY HAPPENED. This is because women are viscerally attracted to powerful men, much the same way men are viscerally attracted to beautiful, young women. Women can’t help themselves around powerful confident men; they lose all sense and judgment and notion of personal accountability.

Women go into every alpha male flirtation with the subconscious hope that he will make her his princess (or his movie star, in the case of weinstein). Even the sloppiest of slopworn sluts feels this way in the presence of a mortal GodKing. It’s not until years and hundreds of wrinkles later that some of these women, realizing they have been had by a cad and by the merciless approach of the Wall, give in to their bitterness and lash out at the man who would be theirs but chose differently. In a fury of spite against the God of Biomechanics, these cast-aside bitterbitches try to take down the powerful men who once loved them, believing in their tiny black hearts that this will redeem their poor life choices.

And this secret desire hits ostensible Trump-hater pussyhatters, too.

Trump (or Trump’s hog) is living rent-free in her vagina.

In related news, feminists are finally starting to catch on that sexbots will mean the end of their romantic possibilities. In France, femcunts are trying to change the law to include nonconsensual sex with sex dolls under the definition of rape. Please don’t bother trying to work out the logic of their stance, you’ll only be met with MUH FEELZ, MISOGYNIST!

If feminists are allowed to ban male sex substitutes, then patriarchs are allowed to ban dildos, vibrators, pulp romance novels, and pretty much everything broadcast or streamed on TV. Fair’s fair.

***

Jay in DC writes,

There has been a long list of vag slayers of Trump caliber. Sinatra, Warren Beatty, Redford, (Connery as mentioned), etc. Even Kennedy was neck deep in pussy far beyond Marilyn Monroe if the rumor mill is to be believed.

This was a non-event in times passed. Only in this faggoty and #metoo era are high status alpha males who are showered in trim some kind of neo-puritan scandal.

Fuck man, for anything you think about him even Slick Willy was a very smooth talker and got ALOT of pussy. Far more than Killary would like her cogdis to ever come to grips with.

Both Bill Clinton and Art of the Sealed Deal Trump are charming. but Bill is a classic case of the charming alpha hitched to a snarling ballcutter, so to him any juicy adoring prolehole seemed like a goddess. Trump has mingled and commingled with hotties his whole life. His wives were the opposite of thecunt hillary. Trump’s mistress standards were thus a lot higher than Bill’s. And tbh I think Bubba was a borderline sociopath and probably did rape that Paula broad in a fit of sexual energy after spending weeks on the couch escaping from dragonbreath hillary breathing fire on him.

Trump, otoh, is not a sociopath. He’s a confident jerkboy full of justified swagger who seems to genuinely love women, and loves making love with beautiful women. He hurts his wives satisfying his urges, but he has the good sense to keep it discrete, and I wouldn’t doubt if he’s had conversations with his wives that his appetite is yuge and they should accept that part of him, in exchange for assurances that they will always be his number ones and he will never fall in love with his mistresses.

If you want a leader with the HEAVY BALLS to take on the Deep State, then you’ll have to reconcile yourself to a leader with the HEAVY BALLS to have a romantic history filled to brimming with porn stars and centerfolds.

Manly vigor is a complete package. (heh)

williamk writes,

Trump gave this lifestyle up for us.

Other men (like Bill Clinton) attain power for the purpose of getting pussy. Trump gave up getting pussy in order to deserve power. Its pretty amazing.

His enemies know his weakness; he’s probably swatted away numerous honeypot attempts. My bet is Trump was smart enough to give up getting strange when he decided to run for president. And of course, chances he’s had any new pussy since getting inaugurated is just about 0%.

Trump’s sacrifices shame our craven self-serving establishment rulers. He deserves our loyalty. He deserves our fight.

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A gross skank brags about cheating on every man she’s been with, and pretends it’s her preferred career path. It’s a classic case of sweet lemons rationalization (the inverse of sour grapes rationalization). She can’t get a quality man to commit to her, so she lovelessly fucks around with losers or fly by night cads who have no problem pumping and dumping a sloppy slut for a no muss no fuss easy lay, and then claims it’s the perfect lifestyle for her and anyone who will listen. Those LSMV lemons are really sweet! she swears through jizz-stained tears.

When I talk about my future with my friends, it always includes marriage and children. But I’ve also cheated on every person I’ve ever been with.

No man worth marrying is gonna wife up and have kids with a slattern. What man could trust such a bargain bin cum receptacle? Why would any man with something on the ball give a Proud Slut and an incorrigible cheater the blessing of birthing his champions? He’ll always wonder if the kids are his. The lowest of loser males might consider it, but that’s because they have no other options except incel, and the skank will be reminded daily of her low value as a woman by loserboy’s presence in her life.

People don’t refrain from cheating because they’re happy with their partners, they refrain from cheating because they’re afraid of being caught.

That’s not the whole story. Fear of being caught rarely stops a cheater from turning thought into action. The primary reasons monogamous people don’t cheat are because 1. they can’t (un-tradeable undesirability) and 2. they actually love their lover. Oh, and guilt. Most people feel guilt about cheating on their lovers or spouses. People who putatively don’t feel guilt, like Gross Skank, are sociopaths missing a part of their humanity.

Fear of being caught factors prominently into the decision for older married men who have money and holdings they could lose in divorce court, or for stay-at-home moms married to alpha males who aren’t apt to “forgive and support” a wife caught cheating.

But Gross Skank has never been in love (sad!) so it’s easy for her to cheat on the street curs sniffing around her putrid pussy, and then act as if spreading her diseased jizz trap for these hard-up losers (how much you wanna bet most aren’t white?) is some sort of achievement, (it’s not an achievement for women….getting a man with options to stick around, now that’s an achievement).

It’s easier to get away with than you think

Only if the males she fucks are beta noobs who have little experience with women and can’t identify the warning signs of a slut. Or they don’t give a shit about her character.

If you’re worried about them seeing you on Tinder, don’t be. Ask them why they were on it in the first place.

That non sequitur won’t allay their suspicions.

And if a friend sees you? Say your account is old.

She must have very gullible friends if they believe her unconvincing bullshit.

There’s no easier way to get bored of someone than by dating them.

And nobody wants to date someone who doesn’t have their own life. Seriously dating someone is similar to moving in — you can’t just un-move in with someone you’re seeing. You’re either going to spend the rest of your lives together, or you’re going to split. Those are literally the only two options. With decades of time ahead of you, why rush into pushing other people out?

I hope (and assume) you know this by now, but guys want whoever is least interested in them. Once you’re dating, it’s impossible to keep playing hard to get unless you actively work towards making yourself unavailable.

Psychological projection — thinking that others feel the same way one feels — is everywhere in this age of bruised, fragile egos. And women are particularly prone to this cognitive bias, because as a rule women are more solipsistic than are men. When a woman is rejected by a man — rejection for a woman is romantic, not sexual — she is brutally soul-seared by the experience; to protect her ego from imploding to a hamster singularity, she rationalizes the rejection as her failure to be insufficiently man-like, rather than insufficiently woman-like which would be a much harsher indictment on her worth as a woman.

Men don’t want whoever is least interested in them. Men want beautiful women who are attentive, feminine, and loving toward them. Women, otoh, *do* desire challenging men who give ambiguous signals of interest for them and who “have their own life”. A herpes incubator like Gross Skank who can’t get what she wants from high value men — marriage and kids — subverts the reality of differing male and female desires to avoid confronting the obvious cause of her woes: her revolt against ideal femininity.

Not all girls think men are attracted to the same traits that they are attracted to, but most do. And slutty low value girls are the worst afflicted by this psychological deflector shield. The slut who thinks men want what she wants can justify to herself why men don’t stick around after porking her without harming her self-conception as a desirable woman.

In the end, you’re going to date a lot of people and you’re going to marry almost none of them.

Almost? Sluttery is the triumph of self-delusion over experience.

But how many of your friends and interests are you going to shelve while placing them first, only to realize you’re boring and impossible to date afterwards? You have nothing of your own because everything you had was shared.

Telling. She defines herself by the number of cocks she hoovers. And if she isn’t hoovering random cocks and cheating on “boyfriends”, she’s “boring”. This is a woman so empty inside she needs gallons of cum to spackle a veneer on her paint-stripped soul.

Someone should remind her that most emotionally healthy women manage to have their own personalities while being faithfully committed to a man.

Guys don’t want you to sleep with other people because it’s the only thing they have that we don’t.

That’s not it. Men don’t want their gfs or wives to sleep with other men because it’s disgusting and she could get knocked up, cuckolding him.

And once you rise above that, they realize they’ve lost their grip on that leash they thought was so tight.

So very revealing. This is unfiltered man-spite. She’s trying to lash out at men because she’s been burned so many times by them in her quest to find the love that has eluded her for her whole life.

I didn’t love any of the people I cheated with, and I never went on to date them in the future.

The palimpsestic lament of the unloveable lovelorn.

But ultimately, they taught me more about myself than any of the guys I called my boyfriend.

Obviously, these “boyfriends” were nothing of the sort, and her naming designation was an exercise in ego assuaging conceit to avoid calling them what they really were: dildo-shaped opioids.

And as far as the “boyfriends” are concerned, they’ve all slid into my DMs since. Checkmate.

I put “boyfriends” in sneer quotes above to highlight Gross Skank’s essential dishonesty, but here she is one line later putting “boyfriends” in sneer quotes herself, so if she comes by here to wake up on the table and witness her own vivisection she should find herself in complete agreement with what I wrote about her. Checkmate.

Executive summary: Butthurt Caroline Phinney pens the Fake Braggahocio of a lonely hearts club cunt.

***

A reader writes: “the whole article reads like a foolish attempt to project the image that she’s super in demand, which she’s obviously not if you look at her nose. Literally ruined any hope of marriage.”

Yeah, it’s all another version of LOOKATME by a road-worn disposable cumdump. I’m sure all the “boyfriends” she cheated on have shed copious cockodile tears over losing such a prize.

As with all matters issuing from the Degenerate Freak Mafia, their underlying motivation is revealed with a quick glance at their physical form.

Here’s Gross Skank at her absolute best, caked with makeup and saturation lighting:

And here she is the morning after (which explains why her pumpings are always followed by dumpings):

Yeesh. This is all publicly accessible, readers. She wants the world to see this, so who am I to deny her the audience she craves?

Finally, the full body physiognomy:

Manjaw.
Manhips.
Manwaist.

Physiognomy — or more generally, anthroposcopy — is realer than ever.

High T, Low E boy-shaped hole fucknchuck aggrocunt sex piston slurping wine slag from the bottle wants you to know she cheats on every man she’s been with and will continue to do so, men really like it despite not a one of them sticking around to show their appreciation, and by the way she dreams of marriage and kids one day, a dream which eludes her, but that’s totally unrelated to her decision to shill for skank glorification.

PS Related: Research shows American women are becoming less feminine since the 1970s.

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da GBFM dug up an archived gem: rare footage of a stripling CH caught cheating on one of his crisis actress plates! She tries to get back at him by burning the jailbait coal, but her revenge plot is foiled when it’s obvious her wee p1ckaninny prefers….different company. File under: Post-America.

David Hogg is jealous of this girl’s acting ability.

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NewYorkerParody stumbles on a good reason to judge a woman by the job she keeps: it could be a warning of future infidelity:

I think the best possible wife material is a preschool teacher: Cute, employed (but inevitably makes less than you), in a motherly/nurturing career, not surrounded by alpha males, has to get up early, has summers off so she can watch the kids (I.e. no expensive summer camps; you can take family vacations). Contrast this w/ a wife who travels/works in sales.

If this sounds familiar to old-time Chateau readers, it should. From a 2007 CH post “What a girl’s job tells you“:

Elementary School Teacher

Pure gold.  Put this girl on your short list for long term commitment.  What’s not to love about the elementary school teacher?  Cute, thin (it’s a workout chasing kids all day), ultra feminine, nurturing, selfless, caring, and most importantly blessedly low maintenance due to the nature of her workplace environment sequestering her from the attentions of men.  The best ones teach 1st through 5th grades.  Women who supervise daycare are too toddler-focused and will love the kids more than you.  You will soon tire of her coo-ing at every baby you both pass by.  High school teachers are too stressed out from their job to properly service your manly needs at home.  Don’t bother with college professors unless you think foreplay is listening to an earful of pomo feminist shrillness.
Bonus:  teachers don’t make much money so your financial status will always be higher, guaranteeing a long and healthy relationship.
Sexual Satisfaction Rating:  3/4th erection
Long Term Potential Rating:  hope diamond (she’s not gonna have much opportunity to cheat at work)

The world is converging on a conventional wisdom that is indistinguishable from Chateau teachings. In a few years, anchors on the locals at 8 will be saying diversity + proximity = war and citing the relevant studies linked at this blog.

It wasn’t mentioned in the original CH post on this topic, but a yuge cuckoldry risk red flag is a woman with any kind of job that requires extensive business travel. Any men looking to wife up a faithful companion should steer clear of women with enough frequent flyer miles to EatPraySlut the four corners of the world with swarthers from afar.

You may as well call it United Cucklines.

***

What about men who travel a lot for their jobs? Aren’t they risking a cuckolding when they leave their lovers behind to keep home an hearth in wait for their return?

Yes and no. The risk of cuckoldry is higher with traveling women, because they interact with more alpha males on the road than the homebound woman does in her time alone while her man is away on business. Naturally, women can get lonely, and a man who’s traveling all the time opens himself to getting cucked by a sneaky fucker loitering back home and whispering emotional lube juice in the romantically starved hausfrau’s ear. But in general women’s hearts grow fonder for ambitious men who must be on the road a lot….to a point, beyond which the local butcher’s eyeplay starts to catch her attention.

Another thing to keep in mind: women in jobs that require a lot of travel are typically low E, high T manjaws gunning for the brass ring. That is, the type of woman who might not think twice about fucking a co-worker in a flyover Marriott to scratch an itch (or jingle a tingle).

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Entertaining field report from Capogambino about his night almost stealing a sexhibitionist from her borefriend.

I’m at the local pub on a Friday, and a guy walks in with two girls dressed for the club scene. One girl is a bit chubby and totally forgettable. The other, his girlfriend, is a solid 9, full slut uniform, hair, makeup, tight stretch black dress barely covering her ass. At several times during the night, as she’s walking around the bar or dancing, her dress rides up, revealing a juicy crescent of ripe cheek for a few moments before she pulls it back down. All the guys in the bar are staring at her, waiting for the next wardrobe malfunction.
At one point, the group I’m with is sitting at the table next to theirs, and I overhear her say, “I can get any guy in this bar to buy me a drink.” Her boyfriend and the other chic are doubting her, so she calls over to our table, “I need a drink, who wants to get me one?” The guys at my table are staring at her, not sure how to react, the girls looking like they want to set her on fire and feed her ashes to dogs. I chime in first, “Depends. What are you drinking?”
“Ginger snap.”
“Aw, a foofy drink. We should do shots. I’m thinking tequila.”
She looks surprised, and mildly intrigued.
“No, I want a ginger snap.” She’s testing me.
We go back a forth a bit but she won’t come off the ginger snap, so I turn back to my table and start chatting.
I glance over and her friends are looking at her like “ha-ha told you so”, and she’s looking disappointed. She sees me looking over, so she tries again. “So you’re not gonna buy me a drink?”
I stand up, walk over, stand close to her looking down, take her by the hand, and say, “Let’s go to the bar and pick something out.”
Her eyes light up like she’s been hit by lighting. She gets up, takes me arm-in-arm, pulling me close so my arm is pressed against the side of her tit, and we start walking to the bar.
I’m thinking I don’t really want to get into a fight with her boyfriend and get kicked out of my favorite pub, so I pull away a little. She looks me in the eye with a mischievous twinkle, pulls me back in, and starts rubbing my arm against the side of her tit.
At this point I’m wondering whether this girl has any boundaries, and thinking mischievously myself about how to test them. We get to the bar and she still has my arm locked against her tit. As we’re waiting for the bartender, we banter back and forth about what drink I’m getting her, with me teasing her about her wimpy girly drinks. I pull my arm free and move it to her lower back and stroke it slowly. She turns to me, presses her tits into me and puts her hand on my chest. At this point I’m in the bubble and completely forgetting about the boyfriend. I imagine he must have been seething back at the table watching our little scene.
I think maybe my stroking gets her dress to misbehaving again, and she reaches down and starts pulling it back into place, commenting about how she keeps flashing everyone. I snicker and tell her she’s got a great ass, and that all the guys in the bar have been staring at it all night. I give a couple gentle tugs on the back of her dress and say, “Why don’t you give ‘em all a show?” She gives me a naughty girl look, and says, “Go for it.” I pull slowly on the back of her dress. I can feel it coming up, but I have no idea how much, because I’m eye locked with her, and she’s staring back with a look like she wants me to throw her across the bar and ravage. Then she giggles and says, “Not that far,” and starts pulling her dress back down. That’s when the forgotten boyfriend shows up.
He pushes us apart, turns to me and yells “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!”
Part of my brain is telling me to get ready for a fight and start thinking about how to calm him down, but I can’t help just laughing. Then the girl shouts, “Leave us alone!” She starts trying to claw her way past him to get back to me. He turns to her, pushes her back, and yells, “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!”
“Go away! He’s buying me a drink!” They’re in a little wrestling match as she’s still trying to wriggle around him and he’s holding her back.
I figure this is my chance to exit stage left before things get ugly, so I retreat to the bathroom. I take a piss, then I’m washing my hands as he storms in. “Dude, that was so uncool!” I back up, ready for a fight. I look at him for a moment and decide he’s not gonna fight over it. So I do a weak mea culpa, calm him down, and he leaves.
When I get back to the table a WK friend of mine hits me with “That was just so wrong, you shouldn’t have done that.”
So I say “She asked me to.” I tell the story of what we said at the bar, and we all have a good laugh about it. I can feel the stares of the two of them boring into me. When I glance over, I see them looking at me, him with daggers, her with tingles. They pay their bill and leave, so no chance to seal the deal.

Mate guarding when the whore is out of the barn is never a good look; it’s bound to push the girl even further away. The boyfriend in this tale of ho should dump her post haste because she’s gonna cheat on him soon if she isn’t already.

This girl is a particularly noxious genus of exhibitionist, the “let’s you and him fight” variety who uses the public display of her dripping sexuality as a red cape for any alpha males nearby who could conceivably challenge her boyfriend’s ownership of her and provide her with the ferocious tingles that only two men fighting for her glans can coax.

Similarly, her exhibitionism could have been motivated by relationship trouble (her bf ignoring her, for example) and she was keen to enlist Mr. Stranger Danger to ignite her boyfriend’s jealously so that he’d appreciate her again. Either way, the recruited interloper is playing with fire; he gets the bf’s fury or the slut’s retconned rejection.

Copagambino had some ZFG fun and played his hand well, but in the end an exhibitionist got the drama she needed and Copa narrowly avoided the drama he didn’t need.

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COTW winner is early this week, because no one will beat this comment by Amasius explaining the “Staircase Phenomenon” (or what I’ve amended to the “Sprog Staircase”) as a description of the type of low class White women whose executive functions and SMV decline so badly with age they hit their 30s with mulattots in tow:

WynnLloyd: There’s not much that’s more depressing than seeing a morbidly obese woman pushing a shopping cart at the grocery store, by herself, with a couple of poorly dressed mulatto tots sitting inside.

What I love is the staircase phenomenon. Older White kids, baby niglets. Sometimes you get an extra step and it goes White, beanstizo, niglet. You can read the course of her unravelling SMV like tree rings.

Commenter TLM follows up with a real life confirmation of the Staircase Phenomenon,

My Aunt & Uncle who’ve been childless their entire marriage due to reproduction problems, started fostering kids about a decade ago. The state was/is still dumping multiples on them all the time. And in many situations it follows your post. The oldest kids of these drug moms are white, then some darker mixed version (not black, but either some sorta spic or other mystery meat), and youngest is almost always a niglet.

It shows A. What whores these women are and B. It documents their slide down the SMV scale. Some really sad stories actually, but it is funny how you can document The Fall via the Crayola coloring scheme changes of their children.

One can track a nation’s decline as well as a woman’s decline by the descent of both down the Sprog Staircase. That changing Crapola color scheme is the perfect indicator of a White nation and a White woman about to hit The Wall.

If her first kid’s Peach
her SMV’s out of reach
If her second kid’s Burnt Sienna
her jelly belly goes on forever
If her third kid’s Carbon Black
Your nation’s dead, it won’t come back.

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