Girls Asking Generalissimo Heartiste To Rate Their Looks

This commune of cosseted corporeal delights gets its fair share of female readers emailing the proprietors with requests (nay, more like demands) to rank them on a 1 to 10 beauty scale. Photos are included, along with promises that all info will be kept private (naturally). The proprietors abide the second request, but rarely the first, because it is quite obvious that what these women seek they already know, and are simply fishing for a little of the ol’ ultrastroking of their egos by the lead pack animal with fur of woven gold and claws stained with mortal triumph.

A recent example of the genre appeared in the Inbox of Consummation, and, as is usual in these cases, the woman in the photo is quite fetching, a solid 8. She too, asked for privacy, so I will not reveal any details here, except to say she is younger than lawyercunt age and was eager to leverage her looks for a family and babies before it was too late, evidencing a feeling of deadly urgency not often observed in women so young which she acquired, so she says, through reading this blog. She valued the opinion of the Rectory’s Grandmaster, and wished to know if a “lesser alpha” was within her purview.

Yes, you slinky pantherette, you can get a lesser alpha if you put your heart to it.

The overwhelming majority of these “rank me” emails feature women sitting comfortably above the 7 and above looks rating. I can only remember two who were otherwise; one girl was a 6 and the other was frolicking dangerously close to the soul-burning fires of a 4 or 5 rating. A lopsided number of them are 8s and higher.

Why would only good-looking women email for reassurances of their good looks? If women were really oblivious to their sexual market values, you’d expect to see a more even distribution from women at all points of the looks scale searching for unbiased third party opinions.

The premise is, of course, all wrong. Women are VERY AWARE of their SMVs, both absolute and relative, and that is why ugly women rarely ask for opinions on their looks: even the nicest niceboi would be hard-pressed to sufficiently conceal his discomfort at having to gently fib to a mastodon that she really looks like a Venus. And women are quite skilled at picking up subtexts and subcommunications and subsubmeanings within submeanings telegraphed through body language and quivering supplicating voice.

The same reason fugs avoid tempting the sizzling light of judgment is the reason hot babes welcome it: the latter love reminding themselves how hot they are by provoking reactions from men (betas) eager to feed their womanly need. Unless you are running an online presence and don’t go out of your way to meet such women IRL, you’d best follow the hallowed prescription to avoid giving attractive women the ego boosts they crave if you don’t want to be chucked into the boring manboob discount bin.

The other interesting angle to all this is the question of why, when the world is full of men with nearly universal tastes in women, do some hot women feel compelled to coax unnecessary flattery from an ASCII ghost? The answer to that, I leave as an exercise for the reader.

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Marriage Is No Escape From The Sexual Market

A reader passes along this personal anecdote:

I wrote you about a year ago with a tale about a birthday dinner with a girlfriend where I showed up late, had no present, and subsequently violated her in wonderfully new ways that night as a result.  The main reason I wrote at the time was because I owe a great deal of how my life has changed, both at work and with women, to your blog.

Today I have another entertaining story that proves yet again how right your posts are.  I’ve been talking to a married woman for about a month now.  Her husband is well off, but about 15 years older and has made no effort to take care of himself.  He also has very little sex drive.  She does modeling and acting.  I’ve included a picture so you can make your own assessment of how attractive she is (please don’t post that if you do comment on the blog about this.  I’m really not looking to affect her career with this). [ed: she’s sexy.]

I’ve been working her pretty hard the last month.  She gets approached by men EVERYWHERE.  She even has pro athletes trying to hook up with her.  So I  had to go a different route and ride that line of being somewhat supportive when she complained about her husband, but frequently make sure she knew I found her sexy as hell, and wanted to violate the hell out of her.  Halloween, that tension build-up all paid off.  We were both at a party at a bar, friends of hers all over, and after just one drink, she didn’t care who was watching.  We didn’t even make it to midnight before I was violating her in the parking garage.  The thing that was most striking to me after that, was how hard she was working to try to get some indication of commitment from me to assuage any doubts she had about what had happened.  She clearly wants out of her marriage, but that old hypergamy makes her want to know she can jump straight from one secure place to another.

The saddest thing is that her husband effectively all but told her to go fuck me.  She’s spent years trying to get him to go to the gym, go do things with her instead of sitting on his ass, and be affectionate to her.  He basically gave no alpha, and didn’t even give any supportive beta either.  As she’d describe her marriage, he honestly sounded more like your typical housewife (let himself go, believes she should just love him for who he is, etc.) than a man.

I wonder if this kind of thing happened with any regularity in Medieval Europe?

Women simply cannot be trusted to act virtuously. Their sexuality must be constrained to some degree by the operating patriarchy if civilization is to flourish. In times past, the threat of lethal cuckold revenge struck fear into the hearts of whorish wives and alpha male interlopers. Today, the State ensures the cuckold foots the bill for any bastard spawn the whore may have with her itinerant lovers.

How far we’ve fallen.

But I digress. The photo the reader included of the cheating wife was quite telling. Some girls just have the “eye of the trollop”; their intense, smoky glare broadcasts far and wide “I act before I think.” I’m not surprised a rich man married her; rich men tend to be both ignorant of female nature (they can’t be bothered to learn) and hooked on the thrill of possessing a dangerously sexy trophy wife. Rich men are under the mistaken assumption that their wealth is enough to keep a wife fulfilled and satisfied. We here who study the crimson arts know better. Perhaps they deserve the cuckolding they get.

The “love me for who I am” platitude has got to be one of the most self-destructive pretty lies a person can sincerely hold. If you believe that, and act in accordance with that belief, I can practically guarantee you will suffer in love. Even the most naturally natural alpha males who strut with conviction that they are Satan’s gift to the world know that women require certain emotional stimulations to respond sexually and to fall in love.

What can we learn from this reader’s story? Well, if you like the idea of fucking sexy, bored housewives in nightclub parking garages, you should be aware of the following:

1. Does she give off that wonderful whore vibe? Watch for the eyes and the walk. Women who love da cockas have a certain way of walking. And if she glances even for a split second at your package, she’s pre-lubed.

2. Has she been drinking? Really, it helps.

3. Does she complain about her husband or boyfriend within the first five minutes of meeting her? Now you may think this is a recipe for being her emotional tampon so she can bitch about the asshole she loves, but the benefit to you depends greatly on how you handle her whining. Too much concern, you’re beta toast. Too little, you give her no excuse to find salvation in your crotch. Also be cognizant of the style of her complaints; if she’s down to fuck around, she’ll sound more coldly dismissive of her husband or boyfriend rather than earnestly despairing.

4. Do her friends all seem like sluts? Slutty female friends are rarely cockblocks. Do you know why? Because sluts love it when their friends are sluts, too. It means no chance of being judged.

5. Is it Halloween? If it is, double your odds of closing the deal on the same night.

Whatever you do, never give your real name, address or phone number to a married woman. The last thing you need is a shotgun in your face when you open the front door.

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Marriage Vs LTRs

Let’s compare two men.

Man 1 abjures marriage. He grows older moving from one long term relationship to another, experiencing relative instability in his love life but also the thrill of the hunt and the popping freshness of pussy varietals. As he ages, the number of women who are willing to abide his no-marriage clause shrinks, as does the youthful quality of the women. But he partly compensates for this inevitability with tight game and a charming, devil-may-care attitude, which allows him to punch above his weight well into his dotage. He has no heirs that he knows of, and for some reason this does not bother him as much as people tell him it should, but the fact that he is not bothered does bother him. He wonders, often now that the years ahead of him are far fewer than the years behind him, if one of those women he loved was one to hold to the exclusion of all others. At the end, he wheezes his last with memories of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of women — of their loving ministrations and tender caresses and fleeting intimacies between window blind shafts of sunlight — dancing through his head, and in the company of a nebulous regret that refuses to dislodge.

Man 2 abjures bachelorhood. He marries at 30 after a trio of lukewarm short term relationships, and because he is a good man (or, more likely, because he is a man of middling status and dull personality with limited options in the sexual market which alleviates any threats of temptation against his virtue) he never cheats and puts his heart into pleasing his wife, who, because of her biology, inexorably grows less interested in sex with him, as her own attractiveness subsides in accord with her fattening waistline. He is healthy and content, all things considered, and he grows old fondly remembering his wife as she was many years ago, sexy and slender and whimsical, while the allure of her pussy — the only pussy he has seen and felt in twenty years — gradually diminishes, until the time comes he would rather caress pretty strangers with his eyes than caress his wife with his hands. He has two children, of whom he is very proud and loves very much, but still their existence does not relieve the gnawing that grips him in the chest when he thinks of love, and desire, that left him long ago. At the end, he wheezes his last in the company of his old wife’s tears and clouded eyes, and he drifts off to forever with memories he wished he had, and memories so distant they have receded to mere imagination.

Now… ask yourself: Which of these two men had it better?

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How To Get A Girl To Send Nudes Of Herself

A reader (warning: mid-level troll alert) asks:

best way to get a girl to send nudes?
It seems difficult to do it without being cheesy/sounding desperate.

The main problem with trying to get girls to text or message you delicious nudies of themselves is that it subjects you to the risk that you’ll be perceived a creepy perv desperate for sexual handouts. This risk is high, but not insurmountable, as the evidence of the deluge of girls sexting their privates to the four corners of alphadom attests. Personally, I don’t go in for the proactive “sext me” strategy, preferring instead to let it arise organically with girls who are already into me and have decided on their own to expose their plush wares to my viewership, but I can see why some guys would be champing at the bit to get the sext ball rolling. Once a girl has sexted you, she’s psychologically invested, and her perception will shift to her chasing you, which makes closing the deal a lot easier.

Another problem with attempting to extract nudies from girls is that it exposes (heh) you to potential legal ramifications down the road. Yeah, I know, sounds crazy. You’re thinking, “Why would I be legally culpable for a girl’s voluntary actions?” Well, folks, this is the feministed world we’re all barreling toward, and the day is not far off when women will be classed as victims even of their own freely made choices, and all consequences thereof rendered moot by state edict, to be placed upon the shoulders of men beta males.

Anyhow, my take on this issue is that there are many ways to skin this kitty, among them:

1. Reverse psychology.

“No, don’t send erotic pics of yourself. It won’t get you anywhere with me.”

2. Encouragement neg.

“I’m not sure you’re right for sex pics. Only certain girls can pull it off. You don’t seem the type.” (The vaguer your implied reason, the better.)

3. Unreconstructed asshole game.

“tits or gtfo” (note alluring lack of punctuation)

4. Casually aloof asshole game.

“It’d be cool to see your tits.” (Be cognizant that she will likely reply with indignation, and that you should be prepared to expect it and brush it off.)

5. Let’s you and her fight game.

“Damn, Ella just sent me a pic of her boobs. So many girls doing this now. It’s crazy.” (bonus preselection game!)

6. Idea implantation game.

“You ever send someone nude pics of yourself? I did once to a girl, and it accidentally went to my Mom. I think she was proud.”

7. Reverse Psychology II.

“I’m glad you’re not one of those girls who sends nude pics of herself. You don’t need that excitement.”

8. Feeding the female narcissist game.

“You look like you have a figure for photos. Have you ever modeled in the nude?” (be careful with this tactic, as it can easily cross the line to transparency.)

9. Non-judgmentalism/No Big Deal game.

“If you sent a nude pic I wouldn’t even be surprised. Girls send them all the time now. It’s nothing.”

10. Massive DHV game.

This is where you demonstrate so much high value that the girl feels an overwhelming urge to show you her naked body at the slightest hamster-nudged provocation. An example of this I found at a pickup site.

Below is an example of how I got a random girl to send naked pics of everything (va jay jay included!!) on Facebook. If you can do this to a stranger, you can easily do it to girls you know.

Note: I had an advantage in that I was working on a movie at the time which DHV‘d and made me artsy.. But I have done it without that story. This is not real life game so the modular progression is different. It goes something like you see below mixing and matching however.

Guidelines:

1. Homework – hey lazy ass, read this entire post and realize that this process may require more time and thought than you are willing to put forth. I am a sicko and love to see how far I can get girls to go over the net. Sometimes it takes longer than others. I enjoy the process either way.

2. DHV-Attraction/Comfort- DHV to the point were they want to impress and then create comfort before requesting photos.

3. Compliment – After DHV‘s tell them they are photogenic which builds their confidence makes them feel appreciated and indebted. Flatter the shit out of her by asking if she has ever done any modeling.

4. Qualify – Claim to be into photography (use photography terms: portfolio) or art and that you appreciate the feminine form.

5. Qualify – joke about not wanting to send pics of yourself (they will usually request this) for fear of them showing them off to all of their friends (indicates that you wouldn’t do this to them).

6. Neg – if they send you weak pics tell them that they are PG and you put them in your Lion King scrap book or some shit ; ) Create leverage.

7. DHV (attraction spike/non-reactive) – don’t be too pushy about it. Act like it is no big deal and subtly remind them if they forget (always at the end of the paragraph, see below).

8. Watch it! – be careful what you wish for. This one had a meaty vagina (YIKES!) Beef curtains! Run!

[ed: portions of actual messaging transcript follows. pay close attention to the punctuation and time stamp pattern. heheh.]

Jess
at 9:03am
Oh, and it’s your turn to send me some pics of yourself. (If there are any naked ones, I won’t mind. Don’t be shy.) LOL.

DF
8:21pm
Wait a minute, you sent me your PG pictures and you are asking for the full monty? You send some sexy shots first so I know that you won’t misuse my photos should we exchange

DF
9:09pm
and by sexy I mean naked of course

[…]

DF

May 22 at 6:36am
Don’t mind, I came out of a relationship just little while back and yes I do find your interest in me most flattering.

The feminine form is a thing of beauty and what can I say, some forms are more beautiful than others. You for example are one of those more beautiful forms.

Jess
10:41am
Oh, well that sucks, but not for me! LOL. And thank you, it makes me smile when you compliment me. I will send you some pics, but you have to send me some too. And please keep them to yourself, I will do the same.

DF
8:20pm
You are most welcome, glad to dimple your cheeks. I would never disregard your privacy, you have my word and a deal my dear.

Jess
9:18pm
Where are my pics? I want to see you naked baby! 
Sent via Facebook Mobile

DF
May 22 at 9:43pm
that wasn’t the deal sweetheart! You send me a topless first and then I send you one!

Jess
9:58pm
I did, I sent it to your regular email. LOL. Didn’t you check it?
Sent via Facebook Mobile

DF
9:59pm
no darlin send again!

DF
10:16pm
I got no bra pics, no topless pics no nothing just the ones that were on your facebook page

Loading…

Jess
11:03pm
I sent them to you again. Did you get it?
Sent via Facebook Mobile

DF
7:52am
No I did not. You can always set up a private __ for us were we can post pictures. It is fast and apparently easier than the old fashioned way. Figure it out girl!

Jess
8:19am
K, I tried to e-mail it one more time. Did you get anything? They were pics I scanned, so I can’t upload them into a __ account.

Jess
11:24am
But I set one up anyway. The login is __ and the password is midnight82 and I set it to private already. So you can put stuff on there if you want to and I want you to!! LOL.

DF
10:26pm
okay, those pictures are not the ones that we talked about make it happen princess

Jes
11:02pm
I emailed them to u again. Did u still not get them?
Sent via Facebook Mobile

Jes
4:11am
K, look at our account now.  You better post some on there too. I will put some more up tomorrow. It’s your turn baby!!! Tell me what you think. I hope you don’t think it’s too much. LOL. Oh, and gimme your address, I wanna send you copies of the pics I tried to e-mail you before. They’re really cute naked pics of me. LOL. MWAH!!
Sent via Facebook Mobile

Jess
May 26 at 4:08pm
You disappeared again.

***

Haha.. the pics weren’t that great. I never chatted with her again. Sometimes I just like to see how well I can persuade people. Maybe I should post the pics?

Maybe we should call this guy Disappeared Again Man, and include him in the pantheon of other infamous alpha male greats like Skittles Man, Bring The Movies Man, and Nah Man?

I can’t vouch for his specific method above for getting girls to send nekkid pics as a generalized tactic, but I can say with confidence that acting like this guy does will significantly boost the odds that you’ll persuade a girl to deliver the goods.

PS On a related note, homemade sex vids and pics of current and old flames (including you, not other men) are a hundred times more limbically stimulating than those of strangers. Try it sometime. You’ll see. Or maybe it’s just the outrageous narcissist in me.

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How To Inure Yourself To Beautiful Women

A thinking sort of reader writes:

The hedonistic treadmill concept says you’ll get reduced satisfaction from expanded consumption as you adjust to it. You won’t appreciate a Ferrari if you drive one everyday and the same applies to a steak dinner.

When I’m on a winning streak with girls, I feel they all get less hot. I find myself turning my head less often. I see pictures of girls that I thought were flawless and I see flaws. I find myself thinking about other areas of my life. Conversely, when I’m not longer with a girl, and I go into a slump, I find my ex was hotter than I remember.

Girls can definitely tell when a guy is not impressed. I read football practice is often harder than the real game. I’m not sure we’ve invented a way to expose normal guys to beautiful women the same way that Tom Brady and Brad Pitt are exposed. Strippers, porn, movies, etc don’t work since they all work to raise the woman on the pedestal. [ed: correct. there’s good exposure and self-limiting exposure. alpha males are exposed to women’s desire. johns and gawkers are exposed to women’s mercenary indifference.]

I’m thinking a picture gallery of women as they age, or a picture gallery of models without makeup might be a good start.

Definitely something to this. While filet mignon will always taste better than ground chuck, and a hot girl will always be a better lay than an ugly girl, the pleasure that can be extracted from the tastier choices will, with enough familiarity and dopamine receptor scorching, succumb to diminishing returns. (Although it will never bottom out as low as the scant pleasure one receives from cheap cuts of meat or girls.)

The blowback from dopamine-blasted beauty immunity is that all women, even the ones you aren’t fucking, start to seem less desirable, or at least less worthy of sustained effort to earn their interest. And this is how ecologically self-perpetuating alpha males are made:

Maxim #12: The cumulative experience with hot women imbues the womanizer with a genuinely aloof aura that attracts even more women to him.

Corollary to Maxim #12: If you don’t have an adequate amount of aloofness-inducing experience with hot women, act like you do.

Think about when you were, or how you are now, comfortably ensconced in a secure relationship with a girl. Objectively, she’s cute. When you first saw her, your heart leapt upward in sync with your cock.

But damn if you don’t espy
that as the days tick by
your wandering eye
roves wide as the sky.

In graphical form, this is known as the Beauty Power Law, and it looks like this:

Beauty immunity is real, and it affects every man, relative to his beauty capture starting point. That is, a low value man will quickly tire of low value women if he manages long-term relationships (or long-term consecutive hook-ups) with those low value women he fears he is fated to match. He will still want hot chicks, but the additive experience with unattractive chicks will create in him an aloofness toward all unattractive chicks that is similar in psychological composition to the aloofness a high value man will feel for the hot chicks he routinely bangs and even the ones he hasn’t banged.

THIS IS A GOOD THING. That aloofness is catnip to women. You may as well prop a neon sign over your head that says “Preselected by women who have come before you, and who are standing right next to you.” Aloofness is one of those male characteristics that women are finely tuned to discover, isolate, and hone in on, because it tells them, subconsciously of course, that THIS MAN, this one right here, has a lot of choice in women. ERGO, this man, this one right here, must be high value.

I can attest to the tangible effects of the beauty immunity power law. When I’m in a solid relationship, or when I’m on a hot streak dating multiple concurrent or consecutive women, then all women in general start to feel more approachable, less insurmountable (heh), and, tragically, less tolerable. The effect of familiarity with females and their foggy furrows is a steady glazing of my perception of their beauty, until they seem as if their faces are an indistinguishable mass of downy cotton balls. Worse, the tolerance, even enthusiasm, I would have just talking and spending idle time with women yields more frequently and submissively to competing distractions, like reading alone, hanging with buds, pursuing hobbies, or elevating my status for a potential trading-up of lovers. Her charming little tics I loved during the first few months soon become swarms of buzzing annoyances, and my mind begins the unstoppable drift to ELSEWHERE.

THIS IS A BAD THING. That transcendental stirring rocketing up from the groin and ricocheting off the sternum when you first set your post-pubertal eyes on hot high school girls weakens in proportion to your success bedding them. The bloom on the rose wilts with too much fertilizer.

But enough of that sentiment. The fact remains that inuring yourself to beautiful women, and to beauty itself, will make you a more lethal ladykiller.

So how do you expose yourself, as the reader suggested, to beautiful women such that they hold less power over your faculties and their flaws are more evident to your senses?

1. Bed a lot of them.

Guaranteed to work, and that’s why it’s the most difficult solution to the beauty immunity puzzle.

2. Train your mind away from pedestalization of female beauty.

Remember Poon Commandment X?

X. Ignore her beauty

The man who trains his mind to subdue the reward centers of his brain when reflecting upon a beautiful female face will magically transform his interactions with women. His apprehension and self-consciousness will melt away, paving the path for more honest and self-possessed interactions with the objects of his desire. This is one reason why the greatest lotharios drown in more love than they can handle — through positive experiences with so many beautiful women they lose their awe of beauty and, in turn, their powerlessness under its spell. It will help you acquire the right frame of mind to stop using the words hot, cute, gorgeous, or beautiful to describe girls who turn you on. Instead, say to yourself “she’s interesting” or “she might be worth getting to know”. Never compliment a girl on her looks, especially not a girl you aren’t fucking. Turn off that part of your brain that wants to put them on pedestals. Further advanced training to reach this state of unawed Zen transcendence is to sleep with many MANY attractive women (try to avoid sleeping with a lot of ugly women if you don’t want to regress). Soon, a Jedi lover you will be.

Starting today, stop flattering women’s looks, whether out loud or in your head.

3. Get into a line of work where you are ordering beautiful women to do your bidding.

If you can’t get sex with hot babes, the next best thing is authority. Fashion photographers are not known as casanovas for nothing.

4. Hang out with hot girls when they’re wasted and pissing themselves and vomiting.

This is a pretty good cure for one-itis. Don’t worry about supply. America is churning them out like cheap factory products lately.

5. Never stop macking.

The life of the lady’s man is always in forward motion. The day you slow down is the day you start misremembering your ex as hotter than she really was. By keeping women forever in your orbit, by hitting on them day and night and year after year, with intention or without, you remind yourself of the corporeal, earthly nature of women’s greatest asset, of their insufferable and dispiriting interchangeability, and your heart is steeled for the endless battle.

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Penis Size Around The World

Ah, HBDers. They get a bad rap as autistic nerdlings. But, you know what, Rainman didn’t miss a toothpick. That’s more than can be said for emotional equalists who make up toothpicks where none exist, and pretend that the toothpicks in front of them are actually thumbtacks. The latest support for human biodiversity theory comes to us from a guarded location deep in politically incorrect kingdom, where offense reigns supreme, censors are routed, and outraged pussies are mercilessly mocked until they slice lengthwise.

What’s the latest news you can self-abuse? Penis size differs by ethnicity and race.

The average British man’s penis is apparently 5.5in when erect – coming ahead of the French at 5.3in, Australians (5.2in), Americans (5.1in) and Irish (5in).

And it towers over the average manhood in North and South Korea – the smallest in the study at a mere 3.8 in.

But British men do not have a great deal to shout about in the trouser stakes – coming only 78th out of 113 nationalities covered in the study.

The men of Africa’s Republic of Congo are best equipped of all at 7.1 in.

The study isn’t without its critics, who contend the methodology is wanting. But it is a preliminary stab at a forbidden subject that pretty much confirms what all of us slyly notice in pornos and at the gym locker. Black dudes are packing and Asian dudes are sprouting. White dudes are in the middle.

Average penis size by country:

Republic of Congo, 7.1 [ed: show-er… and grower?]

Ecuador, 7

Ghana, 6.8

Colombia 6.7

Iceland 6.5

Italy 6.2

South Africa 6

Sweden 5.9

Greece 5.8

Germany 5.7

New Zealand 5.5

UK 5.5

Canada 5.5

Spain 5.5

France 5.3

Australia 5.2

Russia 5.2

USA 5.1

Ireland 5 [leprechauns!]

Romania 5

China 4.3

India 4

Thailand 4

South Korea 3.8

North Korea 3.8 [but their women’s pussies are tight like balloon knot, so it doesn’t matter… until they emigrate to non-asian countries.]

Penises are like the story of Goldicocks and the Three Bears.

Big Black Bear’s cock is sexy but uncivilized. It tears Goldicocks up, leaving her a quivering mass of orgasmic release and STDs.

Androgynous Asian Bear’s cock is unstimulating but loyal. It barely makes a dent in Goldicocks’ cavernous vagina, but it sticks around to see the kids (aka “grays”) through 35 years of post-graduate schooling, and eventually goes on to rule the world with their half-asian bear, half-jewish home invader progeny.

Wan and Woolly White Bear’s cock is juuuuust right. Sexy enough for Goldicocks to feel like her cave is properly explored, but included with some safety gear and a home mortgage.

On a less serious note, readers may wonder why racial and ethnic penis size differences exist in the first place. Random genetic drift? An evolutionary adaptation along for the ride because it was hitched to some unrelated genetic variant that improved survival&reproduction? Sexual selection? Lynn has offered his theories, and I’ve heard of others. The most plausible theories boil down to these two:

– Women in warmer r-selection societies (where kids are pumped out early and often and fathers are mostly absent and not needed to help raise the kids) choose men who are flashier, sexier and sizier. Literally. It’s hot out, you’ve got your cock out, and women are staring at your package next to a bunch of other guys’ packages. The women don’t care so much about your fidelity or your paycheck from coding Facebook apps; first things first, they want that massive dong.

– Men in r-selection societies need bigger penises to dig down deep and scoop out competitor male sperm, said sperm which is in there because the women are really slutty and/or unfaithful. Men in highly k-selected societies, like Japan, don’t need huge dongs because their women aren’t always on the prowl for side action sexytime. A small hoohah helper does the trick.

If you’ve got other theories for population group penis size discrepancies, let’s hear them. The more interesting angle to this is the intra-European size difference. Why are the Irish smaller than the Germans? Why are Swedes so relatively hyooge? Background noise? Or is something else going on here? Something… so distasteful to polite society, that not even whispers escape the mouths of crime thinkers?

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Dimensions Of A Perfect Woman

Courtesy of reader Mike, here’s a page from a late 19th Century booklet named “Woman’s Own Book of Toilet Secrets”. The page describes the “dimensions of a perfect woman.”

I’d woo that.*

Here’s what it says, for those with Magoo eyes:

The dimensions of a perfect woman are: Five feet 5 inches in height, weight 128 pounds. Arms extended should measure from tip of middle finger to tip of middle finger just 5 feet 5 inches (the height). The length of her hand should be a tenth of that, her foot a seventh, the diameter of her chest a fifth. From her thighs to the ground she should measure just the same as from her thighs to the top of her head. The knee should come exactly midway between the thigh and the heel. The distance from the elbow to the middle finger should be the same as from the elbow to middle of the chest. From the top of the head to the chin should be just the length of the foot, and the same distance between the chin and the arm-pits. A woman of this height should measure 24 inches around the waist, 34 about the bust, if measured under the arms, and 43 if measured over them. The upper arm should measure 13 inches; the wrist 6 inches. The calf of the leg should measure 14½ inches; the thigh 25; the ankle 8.

FYI, her perfect dimensions are BMI 21.3 and waist-hip ratio (estimating based on chest measurement) 0.70 on the dot.

Sounds like the perfect woman of the early 21st Century, too. And she’s facially pretty, as well.

Now where else have I come across these ideal female measurements? Oh yeah.

Chateau Heartiste: reacquainting the world with turn of the (last) century truths.

Contrary to the delusional claims of feminists and their fellow travelers in the degenerate freak mafia, there has never been a time in history when women weren’t physically objectified, by either women themselves or by men. Objectification of the female form is the manifest nature of sexual selection. Shaking a fist at it and whining for it to change on feminist blogs is akin to forming an advocacy group for the reversal of the earth’s orbit. Except for some minor fluctuations at the margins, these timeless truths of human sexual preference are unchanging. Wailing for the ghost of Rubens won’t spare the resentful, rump-faced rejects from the unalterable truth that a fatopia, or a lawyercunttopia, or a manjawtopia, or a bigfatbeardedfeministtopia has never existed in modern human history, and likely hasn’t long before that. Fat, ugly, unfeminine, and/or older women were never in demand and never considered desirable by men or women with skin in the game.

The feminist, of course, will move the goalposts until her ego is sufficiently assuaged. When the evidence all around her belies her bromides, she will rhetorically assert:

Men liked plumper women in the past!

Nope. Playboy centerfolds in the 1950s fell within the ideal 17-23 BMI range and the 0.65-0.75 waist-hip ratios, just as Playboy centerfolds of today do. (Dec 1953 Playmate of the Month Marilyn Monroe had a 19.6 BMI; Nov 2009 Playmate of the Month Kelley Thompson has a BMI 18.6.)

Ok, then. Men liked plumper women in the distant past!

Nope. Pamphlets from the 19th Century depict desirable women having the same measurements as desirable women of today.

Ok, then. Men liked plumper women in the ancient past!

Nope. Fat “mother goddess” icons were not viewed as sex objects. And Rubens’ contemporaries painted slender babes, adding weight (heh) to the notion that Rubens was a fat fetishist outlier.

Ok, then. Men liked plumper women in the prehistoric past!

Nope. Figurines thousands of years old have been found of thin, young women with hourglass shapes wearing miniskirts.

Ok, then! Fuck you, misogynist pig!

Mmm, I taste your hot, bitter tears laden with saturated fats.

Beauty is objective. Beauty is measurable. Beauty abides universal standards. Beauty is an ironclad cosmic law that can’t be wished into irrelevance. Beauty is the golden ratio that holds illimitable dominion over all. Beauty

is

not

in

the

eye

of

the

beholder.

It is an inherent trait of the beheld. And it is immune to societal reengineering campaigns to reconstitute it for the benefit of those lacking its blessings.

Feminists and equalists, YOU LOSE. GOOD DAY, LOSER. YOU GET

NOTHING…

but eternal torment and anguish until your last breath escapes the prison of your ugliness and lies.

*I can already see the female readers rushing to the mirror with tape measure in hand, to find out how close they conform to perfection. It’s ok, ladies. Your reaction is normal and healthy and reflects a subconscious understanding and acceptance of reality that will redound to your personal advantage. Don’t let some whiny, bloviating porky pig convince you otherwise.

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