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Archive for the ‘The Id Monster’ Category

If the data and personal observation are accurate and America is filling up with sociopaths and psychopaths, then the best advice a person could get is how to spot psychopaths and either avoid them or defend oneself against their charming predations.

As a recipient of the wicked love of one or two suprasexy sociopath chicks, I can tell you that unless your state control is rock-ribbed and your sexual market options plentiful, you’ll get shredded to ribbons under the stiletto shiv of a femme fatale.

And having had the distinct displeasure to work and socialize alongside one or two male psychopaths, the danger to your well-being is a hundredfold worse.

You could say, “It takes one to know one, right CH?” Eh, maybe. Or maybe my keenness is a gift from the forces of Light, and the wisdom gathered from my experiences meant for bestowal upon the benighted as part of a pay it forward karmic redemption. Yeah, I’ll go with that.

Good news for people with functioning empathy centers of the brain: Psychopaths (and their lesser cousins, sociopaths) have tells, just like sluts have tells. If spaths (socio- + psychopath) unintentionally announce their evil disorder before they get their hooks in you, avoidance is possible.

Here’s a “psychopathy checklist” of twenty traits that are common in psychopaths. The biggest spath tells are lying, charm, and self-entitlement.

In essence, psychopathic predators can come across as socially adept, likable – at least at first – and the life of the party. Even after getting to know them, normal people often have the sense that something is wrong, but they don’t know what, because they aren’t use to thinking in terms of predatory behavior that will never change. Psychopaths, 99% of the time, are not reformable, and normal people who get in their way often spend considerable effort and energy into reforming them, which makes the normal person all the more vulnerable. […]

Glibly charming people who lie pathologically or who have been caught stealing should be like a flashing red warning light.

Perusing that psychopath trait list, I can’t help but notice at least a few of those traits are distinctive of successful, and psychologically healthy, womanizers who simply love the romantic company of (a variety) women. There’s a fair amount of overlap between psychopathy and tight Game. For instance:

glib and superficial charm
grandiose (exaggeratedly high) estimation of self
need for stimulation

As any good player knows, chicks dig overconfident, charming men with exciting lives.

cunning and manipulativeness

Players can be manipulative, but so can women in their own ways. It’s fair to say a little bit of manipulation is normal and healthy in seduction. Legit psychopaths take that talent for manipulation to levels that would dismay even lifelong womanizers.

A spath red flag I’ve encountered is when a person (usually a man) puts his hand on your shoulder anytime he punctuates a joke he told or an opinion he delivered unsolicited. This is a domination move that forces a fast-tracked intimacy, a classic psycho charm+power offensive. If anyone pulls this on you, physically remove their hand while keeping eye contact. They won’t do it again.

Another red flag that will help you distinguish spaths from regular guy charmers: A charming, normal man will piecemeal his charm during a conversation, delivering doses of his charisma at opportune moments. A spath will come right at you with both charm guns a-blazing, even before he’s shaken your hand and gotten to know your name. The quick draw spath is employing one of his domination moves, attempting to lead and monopolize the sympathies of the social group. If you suspect you’ve got one of these psychos in your mixed company, (and you recognize the threat that he’ll captivate the women in your group), the best defense is a good offense. Treat the spath like an AMOG and tease him for his try-hard efforts to win everyone over.

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It’s a good idea to avoid the temptation to ask a girl out on a public stage, especially if you don’t know for certain that the girl likes you “that way”. But leave it to beta males to endorse hope over (lack of) experience. A viral video of a teenager prompositioning his lust object to be his prom date ended with what must have felt like the ne plus ultra of humiliating rejections.

She was, naturally, “already seeing someone”.

The beta orbiter’s lament is always being the guy who arrives at his decision for romance too late. And when he does arrive there, his mountaintop announcement is maladroit and swiftly dismissed.

Why is the beta orbiter so clueless about the feelings of the girl he orbits? I’ll tell you what’s likely happening behind the scenes of these public spectacles of romantic rejection.

Stage One Beta Orbiter: He “hangs around” this girl he really likes, but only peripherally. Her proximity, however unattached and fleeting, strengthens his feelings for her. She, of course, is oblivious to his feelings.

Stage Two Beta Orbiter: As his love grows beyond the bounds of possible reciprocation, he projects his passion onto the girl he orbits, actively fantasizing and even beginning to imagine real indications that she is as interested in him as he is in her. She remains oblivious to his feelings.

Stage Three Beta Orbiter: Time definitely does not heal blue balls. The beta orbiter now envisions a day not too far in the future when his p will enter her v. He starts to act weirdly (more weird than usual) around her planetary trap zone, and it is at this point that she suspects his romantic interest, leaving her grappling with feelings of discomfort, but also of manipulative promise. It will be hard for her now to resist her subconscious impulse to use her beta orbiter toolbag for emotional and practical provisioning. Even the sweetest girls can give in to the lure of exploiting loyal, lovestruck beta males for asexual profit.

Stage Four Beta Orbiter: He is so infatuated and hypnotized by her platonic company, he can’t see that jerkboy pinching her on the ass as he walks by and her turning red-faced with aroused embarrassment. All the real life signals are red, and all his fantasy life signals are green. He ignores the obvious lack of interest from her and pays attention only to what he has concocted in his fevered mental masturbatorium. A collision is coming.

Stage Five Beta Orbiter: He can’t contain his feelings any more. The time is ripe! Public proposition, because it can’t fail and he wants the world to know his good fortune, or because he nurses a seed of doubt and thinks a crowd of sympathetic allies will exert just the right amount of pressure on the girl of his dreams. Horrible rejection ensues, hug from mom, lesson learned? Not always. Not often.

A beta orbiter can be rescued by a wise male buddy or mentor, and by learning game, sometime around or before Stage Three. By Stage Four, he’s a lost cause, and he’ll have to endure Stage Five humiliation to snap out of his delirium. That’s what happened to the teenager in the above story. That’s what had to happen.

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It seems hard to believe, immersed as we are currently in a miasma of equalist lies, that there were ever times in America’s rapidly receding past when people shared a generally realistic appraisal of the sexes. But there were. And America’s fruited plains were once populated with Realtalkers. A reader forwards a link to Realtalk, 1920s-style. The subject is “Petting Parties”, which were all the rage during that time.

Soon the lovey-dovey wingdings were popping up all across the country. Southerners sometimes called them necking parties. They were called mushing parties in the West; fussing parties in the Midwest and spooning everywhere, the United Press noted later in 1921. Eventually some flappers began referring to party-petting as snugglepupping.

It’s almost weird to read about a time when America was so culturally unified, and this despite massive waves of Eastern European immigration happening then.

A game-aware nugget of Realtalk is tucked into the story:

“Girls like to be called snuggle-puppies,” one school administrator told the reporter. “They grant the boys liberties. Encourage them to take them and if the young chaps do not, they are called ‘sissies’, ‘poor boobs’ or ‘flat tire.’ ”

Heartiste Poon Commandment XIII: Better to err on the side of too much boldness rather than too little.

The beta male orbiter was known to women long before our time. He was that “sissy” — an apt description — who couldn’t bustamove when it most counted. That 1920s beta male stumbled and fumbled and waited patiently for unmistakeable signals from the girl until she grew bored with him and alighted for a better man who knew how to travel the landscape of her hindbrain.

Related: Fat women were never attractive to men. The “perfect woman”, according to an 1890s leaflet, was slender and feminine, not a hint of fupa or manjaw on her. America the Beautiful, where have ye gone?

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First, we had the Disingenuous Shitlib. Meet his right-hand woman, the Sophistic Shitlib.

Another one of those UGH THE RIGHT WING outrage articles dropped in the CH combox. Every time I permit myself to wade through a frothy feminist menstruation, I can’t help but get the feeling the implied bogeyman in these articles is none other than yours truly. But they never come at CH directly, even though I’m certain they have stopped by here to get a taste of my meaty instruction. I wonder why they’re so reticent…

Anyhow, this particular article is worth flaying scalp to sole because it’s written in that quintessential sophistic shitlib style, sounding superficially plausible but full of moving goalposts. straw men, evasions, and red herrings. It will be my pleasure to detox this cunt’s id box.

The Right-Wing War on Lena Dunham

Author: Amy Zimmerman

The right-wingers obsessively document and chastise her every move.

…unlike the lefty feminists who obsessively document and chastise the Realtalkers shitting on their icons.

Why are conservatives so threatened by a 29-year-old TV showrunner and author?

“Threatened by” is shitlib smoke and mirrors for “disgusted by”, a classic, and by now ineffectual, leftoid reframe. Dunham despisers, aka normal well-adjusted people, aren’t threatened by her any more than they’re threatened by a steaming wet pile of dog shit they almost stepped in. But they’re still gonna make a face and demand that the dog owner clean up the mess.

But isn’t this a major mental block with leftoids, always confusing disgust for fear? Their grasp of basic human emotions isn’t very… nuanced.

In honor of Memorial Day, Lena Dunham Instagrammed herself in a lacy bra and panty set, and captioned the sultry snap

The only thing snapping in that photo is Dunham’s bra strap, and not for the right reason. You can tell a feminist coven is about to begin their occult clitual when one of them salutes the “sultriness” of the homeliest skank in the group.

Dunham clearly presents her exhibitionism as a celebration of personal and political freedoms

Clearly a strained defense of mundane attention whoring.

but certain fringe elements of the right-wing media have taken the peaceful photo

“Peaceful photo”. What a weird turn of phrase. Is she celebrating in her duties as a State Department liaison a historic accord between Israel and Palestine? Yet again, we see the dullard feminist, utterly lacking in self-awareness, contradict herself within the span of two sentences. Is Dunham in peaceful repose, or is she stridently celebrating her personal and political freedoms?

as further evidence of Dunham’s personal war on male retinas, Republican values, and the American Dream.

Dunham is ugly, so, yeah, “male retinas” will suffer the sight of her, especially since she loves shoving her near-naked ugliness in everyone’s faces. And then acting all aghast when men sensibly recoil at her misshapen figure.

As you read, you’ll start to notice the aversion feminists have to using the word “men”.

The friendly folks over at Breitbart even took it upon themselves to share the photo on Facebook along with a PSA: “DISCLAIMER: Breitbart News is not responsible for any emotional, spiritual, or psychological damage that might occur as a result of viewing this article.” Because trigger warnings are a liberal tool used to infantilize and over-coddle—unless they’re giving big, strong men ample warning that the nude woman they’re about to ogle and objectify is not a piece of eye candy constructed exclusively out of the world’s most physically arousing, dude-approved lady parts.

Amy Zimmerman agrees with horrible right wing males that some women are more physically arousing than others. Amy, I am deeply… deeply… triggered. Warm up the breaking wheel!

While hating on Lena Dunham is, at this point, an odd national pastime, conservative Dunham demonization is particularly widespread and cruel.

Cruel to be kind… to impressionable younger women who might be tempted to follow Dunham’s path to premature spinsterhood. Dunham could always stifle her exhibitionist urges, remove herself from the internet, and lead a reasonably private life like most women do, if she doesn’t like the negative attention.

It’s also strange—for all the fuss Breitbart & Co. made about Lena in her lingerie, you would think Instagram had published a picture of Obama’s REAL birth certificate.

We’ve got a snarklord here. So edgy, so gotcha!

But the far right has been picking on Lena Dunham her entire career, for various slights ranging from her insistence on sharing her personal narrative to her insistence on not walking around in a potato sack with a paper bag over her head.

This is her leftoid straw man. “Lena Dunham doesn’t wear a paper bag over her head, and this infuriates RIGHT WINGERS.” Of course, Dunham sans paper bag isn’t the problem for Dunham haters; it’s Dunham pinching a loaf granny panties bunched around her cankles; Dunham flaunting her undulating fat rolls on everything but a Wheaties box; Dunham sharing the narratives of her endless feminist cunt lies, her sexual perversions, and her antagonism toward normal male sexuality. It’s all that, and her grating, sanctimonious shitlib personality hitched to her bulbous fat man physique, that inspires her enemies.

Not that a potato sack and paper bag wouldn’t be an improvement.

In 2012, Dunham appeared in an Obama campaign ad about her “first time” voting for the Democratic nominee. In the ad, Dunham quipped, “You want to do it with a great guy…somebody who really cares about and understands women.”

Like her gay boyfriend.

Republicans were shocked and irate

FUCK YOU DAD

both by Dunham’s political affiliations as well as her insinuation that she knew what sex was.

No, I think pretty much everyone knew Dunham was an empty-headed leftoid from the get-go. And obviously the consternation of the Core wasn’t directed at her familiarity with sex, but at her insinuation that President Butt Naked would actually be interested in sex with a woman.

Imagine the backlash when this “over-sexed starlet” actually started to use her celebrity to campaign on behalf of Planned Parenthood, in keeping with her pro-choice beliefs.

Her mother disappointed the world by letting Xenomorph Dunham burst past the third trimester deadline.

While Dunham’s ideological deviances from the conservative value system were well-documented from the start

So were Rethuglicans shocked and irate by Dunham’s political affiliations, or were Dunham’s ideological deviances well-documented from the start? Surprisingly, it took four sentences this time before Amy Zimmerman, Feminist Esq., contradicted herself. Progress!

they hardly justify the ensuing right-wing witch hunt.

Criticism is not a witch hunt, dingbat. Now for examples of modern inquisitions suited to the witch hunt metaphor, check out the latest fashion trend among your SJW ilk for getting people fired for crimethinks against humanity.

The outcry surrounding Dunham’s 2014 memoir Not That Kind of Girl illustrates some of these fringe conservatives’ cruelest tactics.

So fringe, she had to compose a passionate, lengthy comeback.

In the memoir, Dunham details a sexual encounter she had as a college student, which she now identifies as an assault.

“Dunham details”. “she now identifies”. “assault”.

Mind-blowing journalistic standards by Mz Zimmerman. So clarifying. For the record, Dunham completely made up her rape story. That is, it was a lie. A lie… meaning the opposite of the truth. She nearly fucked over an innocent man’s life to feed her insatiable, egomaniacal appetite for attention, and to suture whatever cunt-shaped ego wound bleeds out her sense of self-worth.

She later explained her reasoning for going public with the story, citing the bravery of other survivors who have spoken out and asserting, “I don’t believe any of us who have been raped and/or assaulted are to blame.”

She explained her reasoning for going public with her big lie, so that makes everything A-Ok. A good lawyer might make the defense work for a murderer. “Ladies and trannies of the jury, my client is innocent! He explained his reasoning for going public with his story about blowing a man’s head off with a shotgun, and cited the bravery of other killers who have spoken out as victims of a system prejudiced against the hot-tempered.”

Does it sometimes feel like America has entered a parallel universe where all the laws of logic and coherent argument have been turned upside down? Forgive me, I’ll try to explain this without using the word “logic”, which is clearly alienating to many women.

Does it sometimes feel like America has entered a parallel universe where babbling nonsense has substituted for any kind of remotely human-like communication?

Although the number of men and women who have been bold enough to challenge the patriarchal and silencing culture surrounding sexual assault does appear to be rising, the far right never fears.

Define patriarchal. Define silencing culture. Points will be deducted for use of academese poopytalk and tautology. Whatever “silencing culture” exists, it obviously sucks at its job, because Dunham’s gums haven’t stopped flapping. And her advocates sure aren’t shutting up about her.

Got a troublemaking young woman using her visibility to encourage empowerment?

Got an emotionally broken, sociopathic liar using her equally broken fan base of urban millennial bitterbitches and their manlet lapdogs to encourage more lying?

Just dim the lights, put Fox News on mute, and blast the greatest hits: victim blaming, reputation trashing, and an insistence on false rape accusations.

Behold wit!

Two points: Dunham actually made a false rape accusation and therefore trashed her own reputation, and Amy Zimmerman writes like an idiot.

Keep playing these classics on loop and eventually someone will have to issue a statement!

Damaged fatties just wanna be free to smear, libel, and slander men without consequence.

In Lena Dunham’s case, the conservative reckoning was perpetrated by

Translation: She was called out on her lying.

Of course, if Dunham hadn’t insisted on being raped by a Republican (and telling the world about it), the conservative right might have been a little less ardent about insisting that she had made the whole thing up.

Amy Zimmerman agrees with Rethuglicans that Lena Dunham made the whole thing up.

Naturally, they would protect a perceived member of their own tribe by attacking her story—she was practically asking for it!

Tribe projection.

In the National Review, Kevin D. Williamson published a now-infamous review that culled two passages from Dunham’s memoir, asserting that they were proof that Dunham molested her younger sister. Dunham took to Twitter to offer a number of choice replies, including, “I told a story about being a weird 7 year old. I bet you have some too, old men, that I’d rather not hear.”

“weird 7 year old” = “i shoved stuff up my sister’s vagina”. You know, just the sort of weird thing all 7 year olds do. But hey, it’s a choice reply, so Dunham wins.

While sexual assault and child abuse are two thorny, nuanced issues,

Like rape is a thorny, nuanced issue, right, Amy?

the conservative vendetta against Lena Dunham is as uncomplicated as it is undeniable.

Deep. Profound. I read in awe as insight after insight illuminates my world.

More troubling is the manner in which she is so utterly dismissed, an ignorant misreading that’s got everything to do with Dunham’s political views and, more importantly, her gender.

And her vapidity, crassness, banality, and penchant for lying about rapes that never happened.

Lena Dunham was not accepted as a survivor in the same way that so many young women aren’t.

Survivor of what? Diabetic shock? Herpes Simplex 1, 2, and 50? Self-empowered public embarrassment? A malicious fantasy rape concocted in her melonhead? Her dignity?

Similarly, her tales of sexual exploration could never be read as such by a conservative culture that actively denies the sexuality of young women in favor of their sexualization.

Shitlib semantics. I’ve red this line three times and I still can’t make sense of it. Deny women’s sexuality while approving their sexualization? Every word is unintelligible and unfalsifiable in context.

To these right-wing critics, Lena Dunham’s every-woman sexuality

“every-woman sexuality”. 😆 How many women get a thrill from pummeling viewing audiences of them taking a dump, or waddling around the kitchen naked, pretending their carb-fueled gunts are brimming with the gift of new life?

isn’t just disgusting, it’s downright threatening

There’s that assertion against all the available evidence. Amy, toots, no man is “threatened” by the Dumpham Pork Roll, unless he happens to be one of those unfortunate men about to get anally rammed by the dildo she used on her sister. Precision in language, dearie. Muslim terrorists are threatening. Baltimore wildings are threatening. Lena Dunham’s impersonation of a shawarma spit is just revolting.

According to conservatives,

According to normal, psychologically sound people,

Lena Dunham isn’t hot enough for Vogue,

True.

and she isn’t even hot enough for her own Instagram account.

Truer.

She’s a liar, a molester, and an all-around vulgar chick.

True^3.

From challenging standards of beauty

Sisyphus wept.

to acknowledging her sex life

Why does Dumpham need to publicly acknowledge her sex life? Is she afraid people will think she’s a nun?

from standing up for survivors

of public exposure of their false rape accusations.

to speaking out against victim blaming

Why are you blaming conservatives for being victimized by Dunham’s exhibitionism and celebration of child incest, Amy?

Lena Dunham isn’t afraid of much.

Oh, I think her self-imposed disgrace is starting to get to her.

Meanwhile radical right-wingers

Paging 1995, Amy. “Radical right wingers” is no longer the height of edgy labeling.

when faced with change in the form of a lady who talks too much and wears too little

I thought Lena was being silenced by a silencing culture?

are almost comically frightened.

You don’t sound like you’re laughing, Amy.

Maybe they’re afraid that their wives and daughters will join the revolt, or maybe they’re just really not attracted to empowered women.

Or maybe… just maybe!… Dumpham is the antithesis of an attractive, feminine woman that appeals to the vast majority of men.

Whatever the reason, Lena Dunham has a message for the conservatives who have endlessly mocked and maligned her: I probably wouldn’t fuck you either.

Dick is abundant and low value.”

Is The Daily Beast the bottom of the journolister barrel? That was some of the worst-written, incoherent, callow garbage I’ve read coming out of fevered feminist fantasyland in a while. And that’s saying something.

The propaganda arms in charge of disseminating Narrative agitprop are falling prey to a bad combination of incompetence and self-admiration. I wonder how much lower media organs will debase themselves before their undying shame compels radical change in their occupation? Will that shame ever come, or will they have to be forced off the plantation for sins against their ethical code of conduct?

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Reader Chris from Dublin pens a stirring love letter to one of 20th Century filmdom’s most iconic (and loveable) alpha male jerkboys, and in the penning touches upon the abiding Heartistian sexual market truths that infuse the movie The Breakfast Club.

It was really only a matter of time before the Chateau would focus on John Bender of ‘The Breakfast Club’.

John Bender , brilliantly played by Judd Nelson (who was 26 at the time of shooting), easily ranks alongside Marlon Brando in ‘The Wild One’ and James Dean in ‘Rebel Without A Cause’ as one of the great cinema badboys, arguably the best of all because of his gritty suburban realism. It is deplorable that Nelson was not at least nominated for an Oscar for his performance and if he does no other work of note, ‘The Breakfast Club’ remains an outstanding achievement of his.

‘The Breakfast Club’ is John Hughes’s best film with a completeness that his other great work, ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’, slightly lacks. What both films share is an enigmatic and deeply charismatic central character around whom the rest of the film orbits. ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’ lacks the ensemble quality of script or performance of ‘The Breakfast Club’ and is also more of a straightforward fantasy (with it being generally accepted that Ferris Bueller is Cameron’s alter-ego, the man who the trapped and frustrated Cameron wants to be). Ferris Bueller is a far less likeable character than John Bender and, although no high-school bowsie like Bender would, in real life, possess the wit and articulacy that Nelson’s character has, this is no shortcoming of the film – it is, as the Chateau points out, a fantasy.

John Bender has an advantage over the characters played by Brando and Dean because, if for no other reason, ‘The Breakfast Club’ has a higher production standard than those films of the 1950’s and, as such, it is easier to watch. By the time John Hughes came around to the height of his career a more liberal attitude and practice had entered mainstream cinema allowing ‘The Breakfast Club’ to use explicit language and themes which would not have been considered in the 1950’s.

In terms of finding alpha moments, ‘The Breakfast Club’ has probably one of the richest repositories of such of any mainstream film. Bender spends nearly all of the film pissing off Princess Claire (Molly Ringwald) but the sexual tension between them grows incrementally and it becomes more and more obvious that Bender has seriously burrowed into her psyche – hear those tingles chime. When Brian interrupts their sexy ‘Moliere’ moment, Bender flings a damaged book at him in rage, but the sexual frisson is unmistakable.

As interesting is the vicious rivalry between Bender and Andrew Clarke (played by Emilio Estevez), the straight and serious beta jock who initially hits on Claire but gets politely declined.

Here’s why ‘The Breakfast Club’ is such a hit – it depicts the three levels of existence:-

Alpha: Bender and Claire
Beta: Andrew / Sporto and Alison / Emo (and they end up getting it on together by the end. Classic beta – Andrew doesn’t get alpha girl and has to settle).
Omega: Brian (who ends up getting nobody).

In that regard it is wrong to describe Brian as the beta nice-guy – Brian is the omega, while Andrew is the beta. Brian knows that he has no chance with an alpha female like Claire and can only fantasise, as Bender exposes him for doing, to his even greater shame. Andrew is not a nice-guy as such but he is a beta insofar as he is committed to conforming and playing within the system. Also his particular type of beta-dom manifests as butt-hurt and bitter rather than ‘nice-guy’. Remember that Brian ended up in detention for having a gun in his locker because he wanted to commit suicide. Andrew ended up in detention because he attacked a weaker boy in the locker room, very likely a subconscious manifestation of his frustration at having been pushed into an athletic lifestyle, to get a scholarship, that he did not want. Indeed, Bender makes a laugh of this scholarship nonsense during the film when he arses around in the gym and is taunting the deputy principal. This is another instance of Bender’s alpha-dom – he has taken a hit for the group by distracting the deputy principal (a great performance from Paul Gleason) while he lays on cannabis for the rest of the group (and see how that would go down in today’s America … !) As an alpha, the young prince is bestowing his weed upon the minions.

This film was released in 1985 and I remember that it made a huge impression upon us over here in Ireland – we were amazed to see how short Judd Nelson really is in real life (the photography had hidden this very well). At the time I was twelve, attending a bourgeois Roman catholic all-boys’ secondary school in Dublin, and Bender was like something from the space age, the man we all wanted to be, or to have like us. In hindsight our school was a deeply damaging environment of papist omega-dom and, in particular, our form teacher was a disgusting omega worm – unmarried, he spent his whole life in the school, engaged in the various ‘activities’ that seem to obsess such places and he boasted of how he had devoted himself to the “welfare of the boys” (* crickets *). I hated him from the start and it is interesting to recall that the other John Bender types at school felt the same way, and wanted nothing to do with him. That school was no proper environment for any impressionable teenage boy and it is significant that I felt the same way then as I do now, in my forties. As a place where adolescents could be moulded to cope with the realities of life it was hopeless and was no example for any boy.

Ultimately John Bender will always be a fantasy character, as the Chateau freely admits, but his defiance remains as inspirational and relevant today as ever before, leaving ‘The Breakfast Club’ as one of the greatest teen movies of all time.

Although the term beta gets tossed around here a bit cavalierly (as a matter of convenience and artistic license), in reality most beta males will wind up with a girl in their lives. The problem is that it will rarely be their first choice. (Omega males are the men who can spend years tormented by their incel.)

Game, or learned charisma, offers beta males the tools to increase their dating market purchasing power and thus to decrease the odds they will have to settle, or to settle very far down the female ladder. Charisma can help all men, but I believe the biggest benefactors are betas, due in part to their lower initial obstacles and to the law of diminishing returns (that latter being the reason why natural alphas are often given to scoffing at game).

In TBC, Bender was an alpha male… he got the hot girl that other guys wanted. Bender was also a specific class of alpha: The lone wolf, rule-breaking, leader of women alpha male who, I understand, would be called a Sigma Male by Vox Day.

In every respect, Bender was that cynical, aloof jerkboy chicks have a habit of falling hard for. He may not have been the most noble, or admirable, or competent man — he may even have had his personal moral and character failings that would disqualify him from leading men — but no one ever claimed that the alpha male was necessarily a paragon of virtue, nor that women would never choose men of Bender’s unruly temperament and poor character over better men. If we were to judge women’s characters by the men for whom they freely divulge their sex, I’d say the ledger of self-abasement is represented equally by the sexes.

Off-topic, Chris adds,

***** OTHER NEWS:-

Social meltdown has hit Ireland. There is a level of social unrest across middle Ireland, across the type of people who would never cause trouble in their wildest dreams, that is unprecedented. There is a particular type of person who, when they become angry, release all hell. It’s not entering the mainstream media of the UK or North America, because the powers that be are too scared. When Ireland explodes it will take the rest of the world with it – it’s begun.

Look up “Irish Water” and “Irish Water protests”.

Bring the flames …

Any Irish CH readers know something about this? What a teaser…

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Ah, dat jerkboy charisma. Chicks dig it. If you’ve been a regular guest of the Chateau, you’ll know why chicks dig jerks, and you’ll know why cultivating your inner jerkboy is a pillar of Game teachings.

For a long time, CH was out there, a retreat in the deep wood willing to preach the Rude Word to any lost and yearning soul stumbling along the stony path leading to the ancient oak doors. Few knew of our secretive hideaway, fewer still could grasp the revolutionary nature of our message.

But our mischievous proselytizing has finally breached the sound barrier of the mainstream information gatekeepers (and from the reaction to their first line of defense crumbling, they don’t like it). As one reader who forwarded the following article wrote,

The substance of this article will present no surprises.  The tone of the author, apologetic and disturbed by the findings, will also present no surprises.

Not at all. The Atlantic is the latest Hivemind organ to hate itself for falling in love with Le Chateau.

Why It Pays to Be a Jerk

New research confirms what they say about nice guys.

The suspense is killing me! I hope it lasts.

At the University of Amsterdam, researchers have found that semi-obnoxious behavior not only can make a person seem more powerful, but can make them more powerful, period. The same goes for overconfidence. Act like you’re the smartest person [ed: or sexiest man] in the room, a series of striking studies demonstrates, and you’ll up your chances of running the show.

The Atlantic agrees with CH that overconfidence is the heart of game.

People will even pay to be treated shabbily: snobbish, condescending salespeople at luxury retailers extract more money from shoppers than their more agreeable counterparts do.

Seduction is the art of selling yourself to women. And just as it is in the realm of business sales, snobbish, entitled jerkboys are the most successful at selling their promise of pleasures to women.

“We believe we want people who are modest, authentic, and all the things we rate positively” to be our leaders, says Jeffrey Pfeffer, a business professor at Stanford. “But we find it’s all the things we rate negatively”—like immodesty—“that are the best predictors of higher salaries or getting chosen for a leadership position.”

Humans aren’t a rational species; they’re a rationalizing species.

“What happens if you put a python and a chicken in a cage together?,” Pfeffer asked him. The former student looked lost. “Does the python ask what kind of chicken it is? No. The python eats the chicken.”

“You’re like a big bear with claws and with fangs…and she’s just like this little bunny, who’s just kinda cowering in the corner.”

But, careful… all jerk and no softie makes Jack a d-bag.

In Grant’s framework, the mentor in this story would be classified as a “taker,” which brings us to a major complexity in his findings. Givers dominate not only the top of the success ladder but the bottom, too, precisely because they risk exploitation by takers.

All well and good. You can’t expect to lord it over all the people all the time without attention given to your reception. However… if you HAD to choose between being a niceguy and a 24/7 asshole…

ALWAYS CHOOSE ASSHOLE. To wit:

Consider the following two scenes. In the first, a man takes a seat at an outdoor café in Amsterdam, carefully examines the menu before returning it to its holder, and lights a cigarette. When the waiter arrives to take his order, he looks up and nods hello. “May I have a vegetarian sandwich and a sweet coffee, please?” he asks. “Thank you.”

In the second, the same man takes the same seat at the same outdoor café in Amsterdam. He puts his feet up on an adjoining seat, taps his cigarette ashes onto the ground, and doesn’t bother putting the menu back into its holder. “Uh, bring me a vegetarian sandwich and a sweet coffee,” he grunts, staring past the waiter into space. He crushes the cigarette under his shoe.

Dutch researchers staged and filmed each scene as part of a 2011 study designed to examine “norm violations.” Research stretching back to at least 1972 had shown that power corrupts, or at least disinhibits. High-powered people are more likely to take an extra cookie from a common plate, chew with their mouths open, spread crumbs, stereotype, patronize, interrupt, ignore the feelings of others, invade their personal space, and claim credit for their contributions. “But we also thought it could be the other way around,” Gerben van Kleef, the study’s lead author, told me. He wanted to know whether breaking rules could help people ascend to power in the first place.

Yes, he found. The norm-violating version of the man in the video was, in the eyes of viewers, more likely to wield power than his politer self. And in a series of follow-up studies involving different pairs of videos, participants, responding to prompts, made statements such as “I would like this person as my boss” and “I would give this person a promotion.”

“I would open my legs for this jerk.”

Ok, if being a jerkboy is so personally rewarding, the inevitable question follows,

Instead of asking why some people bully or violate norms, researchers are asking: Why doesn’t everyone? […]

“That’s a complexity of humans,” Faris says: it was not until after the human-chimpanzee split that Homo sapiens developed a newer, uniquely human path to power. Scholars call it “prestige.”

There are different kinds of ways to project power (and consequently arouse women). “Prestige” is better-known to students of Game as Demonstrating Higher Value.

The Atlantic even goes so far to wonder if the Game axiom “Fake it till you create it” is a real thing:

I did wonder, though: Could the apprentice actors [tasked with acting irrationally confident], given enough time, come to inhabit their roles more fully? Anderson noted that self-delusion among his study’s participants could have been the product of earlier behaviors. “Maybe they faked it until they made it and that became them.” We are what we repeatedly do, as Aristotle observed.

Ripped from the Chateau headlines.

In fact, it’s easy to see how an initial advantage derived from a lack of self-awareness, or from a deliberate attempt to fake competence, or from a variety of other, similar heelish behaviors could become permanent. Once a hierarchy emerges, the literature shows, people tend to construct after-the-fact rationalizations about why those in charge should be in charge.

“Once a woman falls hard for a charming jerkboy, she tends to construct after-the-fact rationalizations about why the jerk she loves should be her soulmate.”

Likewise, the experience of power leads people to exhibit yet more power-signaling behaviors (displaying aggressive body language, taking extra cookies from the common plate).

Success with women breeds more success with women.

It is possible, of course, to reframe Anderson’s conclusions so that, for instance, initiative is itself a competence, in which case groups would be selecting their leaders more rationally than he supposes. But is a loudmouth the same thing as a leader?

aka the “bustamove” theory of Game.

So what is that special sauce that jerkboys have which flavors a woman’s life? Or anyone’s life?

When I thought about whether I had friends or associates who fit Aaron James’s definition of an asshole, I could come up with two. I couldn’t pinpoint why I spent time with them, other than the fact that life seemed larger, grander—like the world was a little more at your feet—when they were around.

“I want more LIFE, fucker!”

Then I thought of the water skis.

Some friends had rented a powerboat. We had already taken it out on the water when someone remarked, above the engine noise, that it was too bad we didn’t have any water skis. That would have been fun.

Within a few minutes, an acquaintance I will call Jordan had the boat pulled up to a dock where a boy of maybe 8 or 9 was alone. Do you have any water skis?

The boy seemed unprepared for the question. Not really, he said. There might be some in storage, but only his parents would know. Well, would you be a champ and run back to the house and ask them? The boy did not look like he wanted to. But he did.

The rest of us in the boat shared the boy’s astonishment (Who asks that sort of question?), his reluctance to turn a nominally polite encounter into a disagreeable one, and perhaps the same paralysis: no one said anything to stop the exchange. But that’s the thing. Spend time with the Jordans of the world and you’re apt to get things you are not entitled to—the choice table at the overbooked restaurant, the courtside tickets you’d never ask for yourself—without ever having to be the bad guy. The transgression was Jordan’s. The spoils were the group’s.

The transgression is the jerkboy’s. The romantic spoils are the women’s.

Isolating the effects of taker behavior on group welfare is exactly what van Kleef, the Dutch social psychologist, and fellow researchers set out to do in their coffee-pot study of 2012.

At first blush, the study seems simple. Two people are told a cover story about a task they’re going to perform. One of them—a male confederate used in each pair throughout the study—steals coffee from a pot on a researcher’s desk. What effect does his stealing have on the other person’s willingness to put him in charge?

The answer: It depends. If he simply steals one cup of coffee for himself, his power affordance shrinks slightly. If, on the other hand, he steals the pot and pours cups for himself and the other person, his power affordance spikes sharply. People want this man as their leader.

Women want to join a jerk’s world because they want to be taken on a mutually satisfying adventure.

I related this to Adam Grant. “What about the person who gets resources for the group without stealing coffee?” he asked. “That’s a comparison I would like to see.”

It was a comparison, actually, that van Kleef had run. When the man did just that—poured coffee for the other person without stealing it—his ratings collapsed. Massively. He became less suited for leadership, in the eyes of others, than any other version of himself.

If you’re nothing but a niceguy, people will come to despise you because you will be giving away your generosity as if it was worthless.

[C]ould rudeness cause other people to open their wallets too?

The answer was a qualified yes. When it came to “aspirational” brands like Gucci, Burberry, and Louis Vuitton, participants were willing to pay more in a scenario in which they felt rejected. But the qualifications were major. A customer had to feel a longing for the brand, and if the salesperson did not look the image the brand was trying to project, condescension backfired. For mass-market retailers like the Gap, American Eagle, and H&M, rejection backfired regardless.

This qualification exists in the field of pickup too. Acting like an egotistic jerk while hitting on fatties projects an incongruence. Hotties will scorn you, and the fatties will feel even more “devalidated” than they did before you leveled your very special attention on them. Interestingly, this aspect of jerkitude verifies the game technique of peacocking. If you stand out in a little way from the crowd of betas, your jerky charisma will be better received because you’ll be projecting a “brand image” of a man who breaks norms.

Luxury retail is a very specific realm. But the study also points toward a bigger and more general qualification of the advantage to being a jerk: should something go wrong, jerks don’t have a reserve of goodwill to fall back on.

This is why you’ve gotta mix up your jerkballs with some slow pitches, especially if you want a long-term relationship with a girl. A jerkboy can keep a woman spinning in a dizzying drama orbit for a long time, but eventually, should a major fault line erupt, she’ll come back down to earth, and if you haven’t provided at least a little padding for her landing the crash could be spectacular.

([Being a jerk] is also marginally more likely to fail you, several studies suggest, if you’re a woman.)

Contrary popular but embittered feminist belief, men don’t dig bitches (unless they’re smoking hot).

Yet in at least three situations, a touch of jerkiness can be helpful. […] The third—not fully explored here, but worth mentioning—is when the group’s survival is in question, speed is essential, and a paralyzing existential doubt is in the air.

Jerkitude is really helpful to your game right at that precarious decision-making point of your first meeting with a girl. When she’s wondering if you’re an interesting man she’d like to get to know is when being a jerk will nudge her in the direction of wanting more of you.

But can you become the jerk women love? There’s an anecdote in the article about an entrepreneur whose life changed after he joined the Marine Corp. His time in the Marines made him more aggressive. He learned how “to go from 15 to 95 real quick”. He did this so often that his personality permanently changed to a new, jerky valence, and it carried over later into business success.

Learning to become a jerk is just like learning Game,

Without that kind of modulation—without getting a little outside our comfort zone, at least some of the time—we’re all probably less likely to reach our goals, whether we’re prickly or pleasant by disposition.

You have to get outside your comfort zone. Not a lot. Just a little push against your comfy boundaries is enough to mold you into a better man.

He believes that the most effective people are “disagreeable givers”—that is, people willing to use thorny behavior to further the well-being and success of others.

No man is a jerk store unto himself. Speaking of “disagreeable givers”, that appellation fits a lot of natural players I’ve known. They are rude and shocking and arrogant, but are also sometimes surprisingly generous, and the recipients of the jerks’ generosity value it so much more than they would from a niceguy because they are preconditioned to assume the jerk had to sacrifice a lot more “character capital” to be generous with them. It’s like getting a pat on the back from the CEO versus getting slavish praise from the mailroom grunt.

Smile at the customer. Take the initiative. Tweak a few rules. Steal cookies for your colleagues. Don’t puncture the impression that you know what you’re doing. Let the other person fill the silence. Get comfortable with discomfort. Don’t privilege your own feelings. Ask who you’re really protecting. Be tough and humane. Challenge ideas, not the people who hold them. Don’t be a slave to type.

Game 101.

And above all, don’t affix nasty, scatological labels to people.

I dunno about this one. I’ve found that girls love my occasional streaks of sadistic cruelty. Ever play the “marry fuck kill” game with a girl you’ve just met?

It’s a jerk move.

And…

wait for it…

chicks dig it!

(this post was very meta-jerk.)

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You can tell a lot about what people really value by… eureka!… listening to their conversations.

Women sometimes talk about sex — and they can be surprisingly raunchy recalling or imagining the details of intimate congress — but sex talk is hardly a major focus of their socializing amongst girl friends. Usually, one girl (the token slut) will crack a joke about the shape of the penis she inhaled and the others will collaterally cackle as part of an alliance preserving exercise. The smutcluck is dropped quickly for extended emphasis on subjects nearer and dearer to the female heart: Relationships and love.

(Slutwalk women who stick with the raunch talk for an awkwardly uncomfortable length of conversational air space tend to elicit disapproving glares and then social abandonment from their girl friends. Chicks have a limited capacity for enduring sex talk, even in their female friends.)

When women veer into R&L, as is the frequent wont of their meandering sex, their conversation assumes a VERY SERIOUS TONE.

***

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “We’re back together.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “Oh really! I didn’t know…”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #!: “You didn’t know?”

[twenty  more minutes of delicate social maneuvering before getting to the meat of the topic]

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “It’s just that he did this really nice thing and I really love that.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “mmhmm, yeah that’s sweet.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “And anyhow I think he tried to say he loves me.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “He dropped the L word! Wow, that’s big.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “Yeah, I know!”

[two more hours of hot debate about the precise wording of the boyfriend’s confession and whether it counts as a sincere exclamation of love. tack on another hour of girls #1, 3, and 4 alternately affirming girl #2’s decision to stay with her boyfriend and playing a gentle devil’s advocate for dumping the guy.]

***

Men, in the starkest of contrasts, rarely, if ever, have conversations about R&L. Instead, what do cool dudes talk about when the subject isn’t sports, work or hobbies?

***

ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #1: “So what happened last night? I saw you hitting on that hot blonde.”

ALSO ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #2: “Dude, I got her back to my place!”

VERILY, ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #3: “No shit! Did you tap it?”

ALSO ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #2: “Oh man, she was crazy. She was down on my knob, doing this thing…”

[twenty minutes of high fives and rapt attention as excruciatingly crude, detailed account is told of sex positions and composition of female squirt juice.]

NOT SO COOL DUDE #4: “Man, great stuff. Does this mean you’re gonna date her for a while?”

[sound of air being let out of balloon. full-body group cringing and disappointed looks exchanged.]

ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #1: “How ’bout those Dodgers?”

***

The examples I presented here are highly illustrative of real life among normal psychologically healthy human beings, but neither presupposes that men never concern themselves with relationships and love, nor that women are never interested in talking about sex. The key difference between the sexes is this:

Women are primarily interested in R&L, and secondarily interested in sex. Men are primarily interested in sex, and secondarily interested in R&L.

To punctuate the point, try to imagine a conversation between men that focused on R&L without any familiar, tension-alleviating digressions into sex talk.

***

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “We’re back together. It’s been one month.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “Aww! Tell me all about it!”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “Wellllll… she’s been really good to me lately.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “That’s really great.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “AAAAaaaand… I think she might’ve said she loves me.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “Wow, that’s huge! How did that come up?”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “I’m not ENTIRELY sure she said the EXACT words ‘i love you’ but it sounded like she was trying to say them.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “I knew there was something between you two!”

***

Preposterous on the face of it. No straight man has a conversation like this with his buddies, unless he’s auditioning for a part in a Broadway play called “My Colon For Old Fags” or “My Own Private Hide-A-Pole”.

Yes, yes, so many of you are shocked by this news. “Tell us something we don’t know, CH.” But we have entered a cultural dystopia when this common sense is rapidly being distorted and replaced by feminist and manlet poopytalk. Tragically, some of the SJW poopytalk is reaching the ears of impressionable naifs, and setting some of them on a course for self-destruction, especially those whose emotional stability is marginal.

There are CH readers with children. One of these naifs swallowing feminist slut cunt lies by the bucketful could one day be your daughter.

When bitterbitches ape the mannerisms and sociosexual predilections of men, their butthurt try-hardness is a transparent ruse all but the lappiest lapdogs can see through. A girl screeching about “opening her legs for every man BUT YOU” is assuming a twisted, false pride in a domain normally and healthfully reserved for men which she knows, deep inside where the armor of her lies yields to the rumbling growl of her id, is a phony front serving no purpose other than blind rage at the retreating world of a good man’s sincere love leaving her behind.

Case in point: The “dick is abundant and low value” girl I had to disembowel as a lesson for the others. With much pain and sorrow in my heart, I took the shiv to her exposed ego and performed a necessary duty. A duty that perhaps would, one day, somewhere, and in a fashion that social science studies would struggle to capture in their arid data sets, rescue an innocent young woman or young man from living by the lies of a loser in love.

For those still wondering what this is all about, a revelation. Above all, Le Chateau abides the Keats’ ode: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty.” Our glorious, gleaming civilization is getting uglier and further from the truth by the day. A mind full of lies contorts the body into misshapen ugliness. An ugly visage will infect the mind with ego-assuaging lies. Lies must be exposed at birth, or they will grow monstrous and consume everything beautiful in their path. In the wake of lies, ugliness follows like a toxic spindrift.

Therefore, the CH Excalibur… the Holy Heartistian Shiv… drives through the bullshit until the gore stains the hilt, so that beauty and truth may once again assert their rightful place as earthly host to humanity, and the loveless lampreys, despite their worst fears, find to their surprise a new hope for a better life…… or slink away to the icy outback where their limbic disease is quarantined to their own souls.

UPDATE

❤️SCIENCE❤️ presents her rump and accepts a meaty intrusion from yours truly before looking over her shoulder with love in her eyes.

Findings reveal that while communication patterns tend to be supportive and relationship-focused in women’s bathrooms, the graffiti in men’s bathroom walls are replete with sexual content and insults, in the course of the construction of hegemonic masculinity.

H/t commenter Strahlemann. The sex-based difference in predilection for R&L or sex talk is evident even in anonymous bathroom stalls. Chicks scrawl odes to LTRs. Men scratch sonnets to sexual slang.

If you play on Team CH, you bat 1.000. How can you not like those odds?

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