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Archive for the ‘The Pleasure Principle’ Category

There’s this bar/nightclub that has two floors, the second floor extending about 2/3rds of the way out from the back of the venue, so that those on the first floor near the front of the club can look up and see people on the second floor. (it’s great for boning up (heh) on your upskirting skills.) An iron railing about waist high protects dancers and drunkards from falling over the edge into the crowd below, though I can’t fathom how there haven’t been topplings that I know of, given the nature of drunkards to fall over just about anything that isn’t a brick wall.

The club gradually morphed from a Chad-White bro-scene to a Dindu savannah, but it never completely de-gentrified (bixnoodified?). A given Saturday night could be 50/50 White/black. Many of the blacks were hardcore ghettolanders bused in from duskier parts of town, so the 50/50 ratio felt more like 10/90 if you were a wypipo. One street creature carries the menace of one thousand of Shaun King’s threatening tweets.

The night would quickly humidify with the influx of MUH DIKKING and jungle musk, and White Privilege at that time never felt more remote. But it was still fun to stay despite the risk of a massive house riot because of what would eventually and inevitably transpire on that exposed second floor. The nubian ladies would line up along the edge, two-handedly grab the railing, bend over and jut their steatopygian buttocks out as far as possible, rhythmically swaying and bouncing and jiggling their leopard skin tights-clad, dimpled posteriors with a ferocity that would evoke a post-monsoon reproductive dash for ass among Africa’s red-butted fauna.

Then the real show began. The brothers in their knee-high sweatpants would lope into the buoyant backsides of these Nail Rail sisters, making a big show of judging the asses for quality — some nodding their heads and licking their lips in vigorous approval, other stroking their chins in phony discernment — before channeling Al Frankenstien on Viagra and pressing their tighty-whitey-strained boners into the gluteal abyss of not one, but two, three, or ten event horizon booty cracks.

The Bump n Grind commenced, howls and hoots and screeches that startled birds and sent them flying out of the canopy would echo off the walls of the club. Spilled drinks, sweat, spit, and possibly semen would rain down on the first floor denizens who were staring upward mouths agape in unbelieving laughter. After a short while, the tribal “music” having sufficiently worked the participants into a copulatory frenzy, the fertility dance would move to stage three. Already ten to fifteen sassy girls were displaying along the Nailing Railing, and the woefully underprivileged and eternally victimized gentlemen of color would begin the musical chair part of the mating ritual, swapping girls between each other, slapping asses with an air of perfunctory ownership as they entered and exited ass cubbies.

Usually the buckiest of the daggering brothers would hog (heh) the preponderance of booty, overstaying his time with each ass, choosing the finest ass (as he saw it) from among a murderer’s row of gargantuan globularity, and grabbing two asses at once, one glued to his pelvic region, the other tickled into a spastic froth by his outstretched hand. It was at this time that the scent of sudden mayhem was strongest, and the possibility of a violent resolution bristled through capillaries and engulfed the room, electrifying the senses.

This is when the smarter Whites leave, (the smartest Whites never arrive), but for one time the crowd remained in full as a climactic scene unfolded that stunned the gallery before a great laughter ensued. At the mating dance’s peak excitation, a tall scrawny nerdy White man with “I’m a shitlib Virtue Signaler” practically tattooed on his fivehead stepped confidently into the tush pit, smiling goofily, full of wonder and joy at his chance to bond with the natives, and bounced heavily at the knee near an open black behind, waiting for a cue from one of his hued heroes to enter the Dark Incontinent without a safari guide. The Flummoxed Flava took one long incredulous look at this Supreme Dork, promptly cackled in unison, slapped his back, and pushed him into the booty dead center at the rail.

Below, the crowd erupted in cheers. Gangly and spindly, our brave sinfiltrator jerked his body like a broken marionette to the smooth gyrations of his amour, nearly disappearing into the sea of butt blubber. Slipping on the wet floor, he almost dove headfirst over her back and the railing, but steadied himself by planting his paw in the thiccness of her shoulder padding, and it was at this moment that his other hand swiped right….toward her giant tit mashed into the iron bar. He leered at the crowd as he gave it a lusty squeeze, at which the girl turned to look back at him, stood up, shook her head in that OH NO YOU DINT way, and slapped his face. He rocked backwards from the force of it, and the gathered brothers released gales of knee-slapping, tongue-wagging laughter as they resumed their spots in the tar pits.

There is no moral to this story except don’t go looking for love in the bush.

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I’m having as big a laugh as any crimson-blooded American man over the latest sexual assault accusation against ür-shitlib feminist tribal hypocrite Al Franken, but it’s a good time to step back from the charade and examine this strange new moral panic overtaking the land as part of a larger marxist and feminist agenda to stigmatize normal male sexuality.

Pat Boyle worries about the same trend, in a comment over at Sailer’s,

I see this morning that Al Franken is the latest celebrity male to be accused of harassing some woman sometime. I hate all this because my views put me so outside the mainstream of contemporary politics but more importantly the mainstream of the community of iSteve readers.

I suspect that all this moralizing and tut-tuting about men harassing women will read like Victorian posturing’s in just a few years. Women want to be harassed. Indeed they are designed by nature to be harassed. My experience is that women demand to be harassed. Feminism will surely turn on its heel and come to be outraged that men are no longer harassing them as is their right.

Why are women happy and when are women most happy. Probably on their honeymoon and the first few months of marriage. This is when women get the most sex. Normal heterosexual women want to have sexual relations with a man every couple days. Most women for most of their adult lives probably are partially starved for sex.

How do women get what little sex they can manage? Unfortunately for them they are largely at the mercy of the energies of the men around them. They are also tightly bound by a network of prohibitions and customs that keep them from exercising the initiative. They must wait often for some man to make an approach. Not all men find it comfortable to do this. There is some risk of rejection and humiliation. Others are clumsy.

I never cheated on either of my wives but in those periods when I was single I worked diligently at accosting females. There was a time when I dated over a hundred different women strangers in a single year. This has become easy with the rise of the Internet. I was never accused of harassing any of them but I was often rejected – sometimes loudly and in public. So what? Girls dress up so as to become the object of men’s lust. Then they feign indifference. That’s just how the game is set up. Since women are generally small, weak and unarmed, all a man risks by being sexually aggressive is a few unkind words.

In those periods when I was most active I thought of myself as providing a public service. Women like to be vigorously pursued. If they are ignored they pout.

Some women are now thinking of the current jihad against grab-ass as some kind of moral crusade. They haven’t counted the costs. If as seems likely, men become more reluctant to flirt or even just make naughty comments to women, the sum total of human happiness will be diminished. Men will hesitate and women will go home and cry in their empty bed.

Women by nature are loathe to hit on men, so they must rely on men aggressively pursuing them to have any shot at love and marriage. If men stop busting a move, both men and women lose out.

Daniel Chieh follows up,

As Slavoj Žižek kinda trolled, the “new rules” are like an ashtray with a “No Smoking” sign above it. Its all madness, the glorious result of a combination of pursuing fantastical ideas of equality to their natural limit plus absolute atomization of the individual.

Enjoy the Current Year spectacle of leftoids getting id-raped by the very man-hating beast they released from the abyss, but don’t forget that the end game is not good for anyone: this beast won’t stop devouring until Equalism is dead as an ideology and virtue signaling passes from the stage as the flare of madness it has always been.

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Recall the CH maxim “the God of Biomechanics will not be disavowed” while reading this 2017 study which found that men have choosy sperm, subconsciously and autonomically saving their best loads for the hottest babes. From the study:

Although men are (relative to women) indiscriminate in which women they’ll bang, their sperm pick up the discriminating slack, releasing tepid disfigured dribbles for plain janes and explosive jizz missiles for HB10s. The Virgin Cum Bubble vs the Chad Jizz Rip.

Most interestingly, HSMV men produce higher quality sperm loads for attractive women, suggesting that the limbic system somehow knows on a primal level beneath conscious awareness that hotter women deserve better sperm to increase the likelihood of conception, and the id-testes axis of love is able to call up these elite soldier sperms for duty as needed.

Truly remarkable stuff, when you think on it, and one can just imagine the cognitive shutdown that is induced in feministards by lovefacts like this one.

Also noteworthy:

  • women fake orgasms and moan during sex to make their betaboys feel like they are loved (and their alpha toys to feel like they should stick around)
  • fresh pussy is intoxicating to men, from their forebrains all the way to their testicles
  • “men who engage in fewer mate guarding behaviors produce higher quality ejaculates”: betas mate guard, alphas assume the sale. If you catch yourself mate guarding too much, you are probably driving your woman away from you.

If this research reminds you of an older CH post, well, your memory is reliable:

Hotter Women, Better Sex

How your body responds to a woman during sex tells the tale.  The hotter I find the girl, the better the sex is, all else being equal.  Since men remember sex acts with crystal clear clarity, it’s easy for me to recall the exact specifications of my sexual encounters with each woman in my life.  Not to put too fine a point on it, but my jizzbombs were heavier and the distance ejected farther with the prettier girls.  Since this is something I cannot consciously control, it is proof of the innate characteristics of the male sex drive.

SCIENCE has sucked my dong so much I need a lengthy refractory period to give it the quality sperm it begs me for.

“CH, give me your thotkiller sperms!”

“Baby, only the best for you.”

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¡SCIENCE! says….

sexual polarity for the win!

Men report stronger attraction to femininity in women’s faces when [the men’s] testosterone levels are high

Many studies have shown that women’s judgments of men’s attractiveness are affected by changes in levels of sex hormones.

Alpha fux, beta bux.

However, no studies have tested for associations between changes in levels of sex hormones and men’s judgments of women’s attractiveness. To investigate this issue, we compared men’s attractiveness judgments of feminized and masculinized women’s and men’s faces in test sessions where salivary testosterone was high and test sessions where salivary testosterone was relatively low. Men reported stronger attraction to femininity in women’s faces in test sessions where salivary testosterone was high than in test sessions where salivary testosterone was low. This effect was found to be specific to judgments of opposite-sex faces. The strength of men’s reported attraction to femininity in men’s faces did not differ between high and low testosterone test sessions, suggesting that the effect of testosterone that we observed for judgments of women’s faces was not due to a general response bias.

Soyboys are despised even by other soyboys.

Collectively, these findings suggest that changes in testosterone levels contribute to the strength of men’s reported attraction to femininity in women’s faces and complement previous findings showing that testosterone modulates men’s interest in sexual stimuli.

The more masculine the man, the greater his desire for feminine women. The less masculine the man, the greater his tolerance (if not desire) for masculine women.

Note that high T and masculinity are the primary drivers of male libido, so the preferences or tolerations of effeminate men don’t matter all that much to the Darwinian prerogative if low T males can’t get sexually aroused for the manjaws in their midst. The boner doesn’t lie.

Executive Summary: The God of Biomechanics will not be disavowed.

A reader writes,

this [study] helps us understand why more masculine female faces have become the norm in media.

Heh. The Gaystream Media is filled to brimming tears with low T limp-wrists who aren’t bothered by the lack of feminine female colleagues. You couple that with the natural selection effect of obnoxious status striving fields like media whoredom drawing in manjawed careerist shrikes and you get what we have today: Snarky, virtue signaling Fake News brought to you by the sexually amorphic androgynes who have swarmed like insects into media brothels, and who have corrupted the integrity of their occupation with the presence of their own corrupted minds and bodies.

This is why sexually chadmorphic masculine men like Trump trigger them so badly; the fear and loathing of the fancy male feminist and fierce female ballcutter for Trump is reflective of much deeper emotions than those provoked by political disagreement; this bitchback goes to the id and its force multiplier is raw envy and suppressed desire.

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therebbeblog writes that beauty boosts fecundity, and anti-White Western shitlibs encourage (White) women to look ugly because it reduces their fertility.

The point of the Israeli hotties, isn’t “porn” but that beautiful women boost fecundity. This is obvious but defies conventional analysis. The Left understands that ugliness depresses white fecundity and encourages white women to defile their appearance.

https://identitydixie.com/2017/04/18/moldylocks-trashy-villain-tragic-victim/

Certain countries favor beauty. It appears to be a side-effect of a martial/nationalist culture. Sparta and Nazi Germany favored beauty. Sparta was said to have the beautiful women in the world (Who, like Israeli women, had martial training).

France, Brazil, Venezuela, Brazil, Columbia, Israel still seem to prize female beauty. Everywhere else in the West, ugliness is cherished. A healthy nationalist culture views the beauty of its women as part of its national identity. Give the lads something to fight and die for. Israeli army girls perfectly embody this.

Israeli’s won their independence in Messerschmitts. Israeli tank commanders perfectly applied Guderian’s tactics if Hitler wasn’t so stupid as to hold them back, again, and again, and snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. The Israeli commando culture harkens back to Nazi commandos. Many early Israeli parties featured the faces symbol. Israel was secretly the strongest ally of South Africa and Rhodesia. Vlaams Belang/ Dutch right wing are tight with Israel. Israel’s history, oddly, is interlinked with White Supremacy. Intuitively, this makes much sense as Israel is existentially an apartheid/ethno state as well. OFC, US Jews are not going to get this. You can get pissed at the hypocrisy, but this is just too mindblowing for a typical US Jew to grasp.

Israel’s fertility rate is above replacement, but still lower than most of the surrounding Ay-rab countries. But the fertility rates of the Arab MENA nations have dropped precipitously in the last couple of decades, while simultaneously the overweight and obesity rates in those nations have skyrocketed. (Saudi Arabia is either the first or second fattest country on earth, along with the US.) Israel has the lowest overweight/obese rate of the Middle East countries. So maybe there’s something to rebbe’s contention that female fattitude = female barren wombs.

In fact, I’d say there’s more than something to it. Real scientists as opposed to Fake Feminist Scientismologists have known for a l0ng time that fatness depresses female fertility. A healthy weight, 17-23 BMI, hourglass-shaped young women has the choicest fertility of any class of woman.

More pertinent is the fact that most men don’t want to fuck fat women. Sometimes they do, out of desperation, but if they can avoid it they will. And it’s hard for a woman to bake many bunz in her oven if no man is willing to add the dough.

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Millennials are having less sex than previous generations, according to research by the CDC and other outfits. This is likely bifurcated survey data (i.e., the number of sexually inactive soyboys and fatty bluehair Millennials has increased over previous generations but a sizable minority of bubbly babes and trumpening chads are going hog wild). Call it the 80-20 Piece-of-ass Principle of Female Hypergamy. Nevertheless, an explanation is out there, and it’s missed by lots of people because it seems so counterintuitive. Doktor Jeep comments,

So with all the dating apps and simpery at its peak, women get their validation with a swipe – post some cleavage on social(ist) media and get scores of likes by the thirsty hordes – this explains why (mainly white) teenagers are having less sex than previous generations.

The great paradox of social media and dating apps which were intended to facilitate hooking up and relationship formation is that the technology leads to LESS sex because, as the good Doktor noted, women get their egos stroked so thoroughly by thirsty swiping betas, they don’t need their kittens stroked.

How utterly ironic that the very tech that was supposed to usher Sexual Liberation 2 has instead flattened the romantic landscape into a dreary chafed handscape. The Whoring 60s, 70s, and 80s have given way to the DVZ: Devirilized Zone. Chicks get swamped with empty anhedonic come-ons and the mass of thirsty betas drains their energies into porn and their dignity into Tinder aka chick crack.

A stroked female ego is a dormant female libido.

A sapped male libido is a debased male ego.

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If girls are checking you out in public with love in their eyes and mist ‘twixt their thighs, it could be simply the case that you’ve got a ten foot hard-on walking ahead of you.

This happens when you’re daydreaming about last night. If you have an active, imaginative mind capable of weaving exquisite detail into a memory, you’ll often access those neural pleasure vaults that store steamy scenes of lovemaking, ancient and recent, while engaged in blissfully pedestrian activities, such as walking outdoors to get from place A to place B. Dulled by pre-collapse hedonistic pampering, you zone out to the thump of your playlist and recall in vivid hues that would be the envy of a weinstein bros production the girl you lacquered 18 hours ago. Your mind’s hand caresses her mesmerizingly rolling skinscape, exploring every hideaway, parting slick chrysalises, kissing lip and trough and mound, a stray nipple catching on your chest and springing away to resume its erect posture….

…and then you’ve got a boney. A big one. You look down and smile, because you’re not a soyboy ashamed of your surprise swole pole. Instead of concealing your insolence behind a stack of Atlantics, you milk your gristly thistle for all it’s worth, thrusting your crotch as far forward as it can go before you tip over backwards. Maybe you put your hands on hips to draw inattentive doe eyes to where they should be focused. A fat feminist shambles by, and practically salivates before remembering to be offended. You guffaw in her maw.

Personal space? That’s pleb talk. You have summoned a mighty pipe from your manly dendrites, and a gift as that should not go unnoticed.

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