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Archive for the ‘The Pleasure Principle’ Category

This is pithy. Commenter plumpjack describes the multivariate correlates of the Shitlord Era.

***BEHOLD THE SHITLORD ERA***

all attention-whoring, approval/validation-seeking, politically-correct, manipulative, disingenuous behavior is to be OPENLY MOCKED.

The Shitlord Era is one vast and ecumenical trolling company, for whom all high T men will work to serve an alternative narrative, in which all men will wield a share of the shiv. All cuckservatives derided, all shitlibs discredited, all circus freaks abused. And I have chosen you, Mr. Trump, to be the Shitlord Era’s avatar.

“I have seen the face of Realtalk.”

You may very well have.

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This song could be the rapefugee anthem. Listen to young women, really listen, and you’ll come to realize the ancients were wise to cut women off from political influence.

A quick Crimson Pilled analysis of the lyrics.

Ohhh Ohh Ohhh Ohhh Ohhhh Ohhhh

She’s orgasming just anticipating the noncommittal attention of a bad boy.

Ask me to stay and I’m not gonna leave
Don’t make me wait with my heart on my sleeve
Cause I won’t go ‘less you want me to
I’d surrender it all for you

She would sacrifice her first-born for the love of a bad boy.

Friends turn to foes I don’t know who to trust
You say I worry, I worry too much
But I can’t help what I’m feeling now
I just want us to be somehow

Is her bad boy cheating? Careless whispers! Suspicion of his unfaithfulness only intensifies her love for him.

I said there’s somethin ’bout the bad boys
That makes the good girls
Fall in Love

They are bad, ergo they are lovable.

Clear as a crystal or sharp as a knife
Words will be words ’til you bring them to life
Show the whole world that you’re mine alone
Tell them girls to go find their own

Female preselection boosts male sexual market value. She loves that other girls are after her bad boy, but her erotic power is so complete he ignores the others to be with her. Or so she tells herself.

(and if you’re no good for me)
Don’t leave me stranded

She can only take so much foot-dragging (measured in prime years wasted).

(and if you’re no good for me)
Don’t lead me on

Shit or get off the pot.

(and if you’re no good for me)
I’d rather feel abandoned

Better to have loved and lost a bad boy, than to never have known a bad boy’s love at all.

(and if you’re no good for me)
Please be gone

She has to beg her intransigent bad boy to dump her, because she doesn’t have the inner strength to do it herself. This is a good time to remind yourself that hot girls have no trouble dumping non-bad boys on the flimsiest of pretexts.

PS Zara Larsson, the singer, is Hey Nineteen in this video.

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Now this is a Fuck Me Stare.

sexstare

H/t reader passionman, who writes, “Expression translated: If you fucked me, my life will be complete. Absent that, you have my vote.”

The female version of the sex stare is noticeably, how you say, creepier than the male version. That is, if a man had this look for, say, TheCunt at one of her recipe swapping rallies, she’d signal Secret Service to apprehend him and whisk him away to an undisclosed location for a feminist brainwashing session.

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In Japan, a burgeoning “fake anime boyfriend” market is capturing the hearts of Japanese women and overseas American women.

Since the 90s, Japanese women have been playing otome (“maiden”) games, which allow the player to pursue virtual relationships with several virtual hunks. In the interest of journalism, I spent over $60 flirting with emotionally manipulative anime characters, and it fucking ruled.

So what kind of virtual boyfriends do nipply Nipponese and sassy statesiders prefer? Take one guess.

When I asked Gray which character types tend to perform best, she told me that the “sadistic but charismatic” archetype is beloved in both Japan and the US.

Chicks dig those charismatic jerkboys.

She pointed to Eisuke Ichinomiya, which she says is the most popular character in Kissed by the Baddest Bidder, Voltage’s top-grossing game in the US. […] On Eisuke’s character profile, he is billed in glittering pink and purple script as a “cold-hearted narcissist.” His quote is “I’m going to make you mine. And you don’t get to say no.”

What’s revealing about this dating simulation (aka female pornhub) is that it is essentially the female version of sex dolls for men. Women aren’t aroused as much by the visual and tactile inspection of men’s bodies as they are by the emotional and psychological inspection of men’s personalities. And when choosing male archetypes, the jerkboy narcissist is number one pulse amplifier in the arterial transverse between a woman’s heart and vagina. This is why real world feedback continually proves the efficacy of Game to the goal of seducing women: Game is the creation of sexier male personalities.

“Usually [this character is] sadistic and mean to you, but sometimes, when you and him are alone, he becomes so sweet and very kind to you,” Gray explained.

Vulnerability Game. A girl wants a challenging man (i.e., a man with a lot of poosy options) who can’t help but occasionally, and reluctantly, succumb to her erotic charms.

Also like Voltage’s millions of other customers worldwide, I was really only interested in the mean and sadistic gentlemen—which is weird, because I actively avoid mean and sadistic men in real life.

Fantasy is inward projection of outward sexual desire. We know this because no woman in the history of the world has ever fantasized about a reliable beta male in pleated khakis. Hence, the reason there’s a maxim stating “watch what women do and ignore what they say”. The details of female desire are quite disturbing to idealistic minds when seen up close, so much so that even women recoil from a cogent awareness of their own sexual urges. Which is why women are gifted with an ability to flim flam themselves whenever they are asked about what they want romantically.

This woman quoted above, when alone with her virtual tingle generator, chooses a badboy for her stimulus. “In real life”, she claims otherwise. But that’s the source of the fantasy’s power; in real life, most women don’t have the goods to attract and tame the badboys who turn them on, so in moments of introspection they fall back on sour grape-isms to rationalize the parade of dependable boring betas that is their lot in life. Or, oppositely, they have been burned by badboys so often in the past that avoiding them must be an “active” process rather than the more natural, unplanned pursuit that doesn’t require active effort typical of women who don’t have a dating history littered with alluring assholes.

Gray insisted that most of Voltage’s users “think that their real life and romance in our apps are totally different.” However, in the same response, she acknowledged that an elision between fantasy and reality does often take place. “The user who has a boyfriend plays our app to fill in the unsatisfied part of her boyfriend. Playing the app makes her happy and it helps to prevent fights with her boyfriend,” Gray told me.

Virtual alpha widows. Literally cucked by an anime lothario.

There is no bottom to the romantic humiliations that beta male boyfriends can suffer.

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White man-black woman couples are exceedingly rare. Not as rare as asian man-black woman couples, but close to that level of rarity. In the past year, I can recall seeing maybe five WM/BW couples.

Given the small sample size, it’s difficult to identify patterns and generalize about the traits of WM/BW pairings. But I will try. Here’s what I’ve noticed (take it with a grain of salt-n-pepa).

– The White men drilling for oil are usually big nerdy galoots. They are tall and burly, but walk with an ungainly lope. Nevertheless, they could probably win a few fights if their lives depended on it. (Being big, however nerdy, also helps stay the impulsive beatdown fists of any black men who see the Towering White Nerd with his black girlfriend.)

– If I had to guess based on appearance alone, I’d say the White men with the black gfs make a reasonable living and aren’t likely to stray.

– The black women in WM/BW couples aren’t particularly facially pretty, but they are all thin. And they don’t have steatopygous ghetto glutes. Their figures resemble the bodies of well-muscled, athletic White women.

– The black women dating White men are very dark. Almost purple. This might seem strange, but their dark skin contradicts their facial features, which tend toward less prognathism and more toward a Horn of Africa caucasian-ness. Don’t get me wrong; they will never be mistaken for dark-skinned White women, but their black features are more exotic than urban hood rat.

– I suspect the black women dating White men are African immigrants, or 2nd or 3rd generation removed from immigrant parents, going by their skin darkness, noticeable lack of permanent scowl, and fashion sense (which is understated and in line with the style norms for White women).

– I have never seen a WM/BW couple with a mystery meat kid in tow. The couples’ rarity of occurrence might explain this, or…… the White men jump ship before marriage and kids loom large in their black girlfriends’ minds.

My theory: White men who date outside the race do it for the exotic bedroom pleasure factor, not for the affordable family formation reason. A White male shitlib will never admit this, but when thrust comes to buns the arid subconscious calculation of the inherited traits, positive or negative, of any mixed race child will give him pause. And the typical White male shitlib, for all his virtue signaling, secretly knows the score on race and genetics.

So, one may ask, why don’t White women who burn the coal make the same subconscious calculations before shitting out a mocha chip? First, mudsharks are generally low sexual market value; fat, ugly, dumb, and low class. Without black men to service them, they might never get laid and conceive a child. Second, women can be their own worst enemies when a dominant or charming man raises their horny level. Women don’t get climbing-the-walls horny very often as a rule, which means that once aroused they are capable of making horrible mistakes of judgment.

Cheers!

PS It’s my impression that, despite the rarity, the numbers of WM/BW couples have increased in recent years, keeping in line with US Census Bureau data that mixed race couples have increased by a nontrivial number in the past two decades. The Council on Igloo Affairs cackled with glee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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If you get the opportunity to snort c*ke off a girl’s ass, only one thought will go through your mind, blandly and iteratively.

“Here I am, snorting c*ke off a girl’s ass.”

The whole experience is meta to the max; audience to your own theater. The arietta will be accompanied by a syncopation of contrived eroticism, which nonetheless won’t much diminish its melodic exhilaration, because something beastly and primal is exposed by the indiscriminate consumption. But the passion, tacitly scripted, will in recollection seem quite silly the next day under the harsh glare of a noontime sun.

hi, nsa!

hi, nsa!

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