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Archive for the ‘Tool Time’ Category

In a neighborhood I once occupied, I used to see a man — an avatar of vibrancy — around town who was “suffering” from some kind of medical condition that caused his genitals to swell to immense proportion. Elephantitis of the nuts, although his entire package, beans plus frank, was uniformly yuge so maybe he hit the jackpot and got pachyderma of the penis too. Anyhow, this guy would stroll happily and confidently from cafe to cafe and bar to bar, on sunny days and sultry nights alike, chatting up random girls with the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable, his old man pleated pants stretched to smoothness by the extraordinary bulge that traveled the length of his thigh and bubbled like an active caldera at least a foot outwardly. A truly swole gentleman, his eighth wonder of the world could easily have been mistaken for a basketball stuffed down his pants.

For an astute observer of human nature such as yours unduly, the reactions of the girls were primetime entertainment. Swollen Genitals Man made no effort to hide or otherwise minimize the assault of his bursting crotch into the personal spaces of the girls he approached. He’d even put his hands on his hips and ever-so-subtly sway his King Dong pelvic region in a hypnotic figure eight.

I say hypnotic, because from the looks of them the girls couldn’t tear their eyes away. I can recall not one girl who turned away disgusted or promptly waved him off. Some smiled, some giggled, and some bantered with him, but all of them stared at that super sack like it was a T-bone to a hungry doge.

I wouldn’t say this is ideal Game, because I doubt he actually bedded any of these girls, but it was an object lesson in how fascinated girls are by a man’s impudent, remorseless, intrusive sexuality, because they hardly ever experience it surrounded by neutered corporate manginas.

PS One time SGM approached a mixed table from a bad angle, resulting in a hilarious awkwardness when his pride and joy nearly grazed the cheek of one of the men sitting at the table. The man jerked his face toward SGM and almost took every pound of that junkernaut in his mouth. The unfortunate victim was, physiognomically, a shitlib male. Another man at the table sitting about five feet away was, physiognomically, a shitlord. CH readers can guess how each man reacted to the scene as it unzippered (hint: their reactions were what you’d expect).

PPS Open borders and mass third world invasion means grotesque exotic diseases coming to a neighborhood near you!

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Circumstances permitted me to overhear and oversee an awkward one-way conversation between four men, or rather between one man and three men. The three men were co-workers and friends (easy to tell by their comfortable banter) and all were cis-chad cis-dudes (one was black); the fourth man (white) entered the scene as an outsider, and attempted to ingratiate himself.

I should mention here that the fourth man was very tall and, though these things are normally outside my field of discernment, exceptionally good-looking. This detail is important, as you’ll learn.

Tending to my task, I got sucked into their conversation when it sounded like it was going south. That’s when I paid more attention and noticed the disconnect between the cleft-chinned outsider’s overall dominant male appearance and his weak, clumsy, try-hard bantz. He seemed unable to stop trying to impress the three men and every sentence he uttered came across more forced than the one before it. His joshing fell flat, and his anodyne remarks went unreciprocated. (Male friends, or even polite strangers, will at the least acknowledge another man’s trite observations with a head nod or a “yup uh huh”.)

It wasn’t long, but it only took about two minutes of this painful interlude before the three men began the process of blatantly disengaging from the fourth man’s effortchat; they looked around the room, at their feet, squinted, and exchanged knowing glances. Worse still, when Good-Looking Goober finally and blessedly took his leave, he had to do it on a rocket ship of cringingly awful parting words. “ALL RIGHT THEN GUYS I’LL SEE YOU GUYS AROUND…”…. turns to walk off, turns back again to say more… “…OH AND YOU GUYS SHOULD COME TO BAR [X] THEY’VE GOT A GREAT HAPPY HOUR I’LL BE THERE YOU SHOULD GO OK PEACE BROS”,  his head bobbing enthusiastically throughout his long goodbye.

I should add that the three jockos had welcomed GLG warmly, (like I or any other man would have), probably figuring a man that good-looking would be cool in all other ways. Then, as GLG revealed himself to have the soul of a beta male trapped in the body of an alpha male, a funny thing happened….his audience couldn’t help show their disgust. One man rolled his eyes while GLG bantzed nerdily. After GLG cleared from earshot, another man muttered “Jesus”.

The entire cringenette was a sterling demonstration of what I call the Assumption of Alpha Fallacy. For primal reasons beyond the conscious ken of normies (but available in technicolor apprehension to guests of the Chateau), we assume good-looking and/or masculine men will have the coolness of personality to match. When our assumption fails, we can turn almost cruel in mocking the instrument of our disappointment.

It’s a similar dynamic that happens when a girl meets an attractive man, assumes the best about his social skills, and is bitterly disappointed to the verge of spite when he stumbles and bumbles to deliver exceedingly bland rhetorical enticements like a typical incel dork.

In this sense, the GLG man is akin to the Illusionist Hottie, except what takes a few dates and a disrobing to uncover the normally concealed Nottie underneath the Illusionist Hottie can take as little as a minute of awkward convo to expose the Beta Male Soul lurking in the vessel of the Assumed Alpha.

The same awkwardness and disappointment that men feel when an Assumed Alpha in appearance can’t project that alpha maleness in his personality is the awkwardness and disappointment (with the added astringent of spite) that a woman feels when an Assumed Alpha’s charmless flirting doesn’t live up to her expectations set by his appearance.

It’s not wrong to assume a hot babe is an alpha female. No matter her personality, her hotness guarantees that most men will dream about fucking her and sucking up to her for the small chance of realizing their dream. But it IS a mistake (not always, but often enough) to assume a good-looking man is an alpha male based on nothing more than his appearance, because for men their mate worth (aka coolness) is predicated on more, much more, than their looks. The truth that lad and glam mags rarely explore is that men’s personality is a big factor in their attractiveness to women, and over a time spanning longer than an introductory glance and hello a man’s personality is MORE relevant to the impression he leaves on women AND on men.

Women simply have a lot bigger margin for error in the personality department, which is why crazy hot crazy psychobitches can extract a lot of loving and providing from men who haven’t prepared themselves for female dysfunction through the accumulation of a rich romantic history boning hotties.

In descending order of importance, here are the female attractiveness traits that men desire in women:

Beauty.
Femininity.
Sexual eagerness.

In descending order of importance, here are the male attractiveness traits that women desire in men:

Psychosocial dominance (game).
High status/fame.
Personality (passion/charisma/humor).
Wealth.
Good looks/height/muscularity.
Cleverness/smarts.
Dependability/reliability.
Sexual prowess.

Cool men are embarrassed to be in the company of a socially awkward nerdo, and when the nerdo happens to be a tall good-looking goober the embarrassment is felt just as strongly, but now coupled with a feeling of foolishness for having assumed the best about the goober.

That feeling is the same feeling women have when a good-looking man approaches them and destroys the illusion of alpha sexiness by speaking the language of beta loserdom. But it’s even worse, because women are more entitled than are men, and there aren’t nearly enough alpha males to satisfy all the women who want them. So when a women’s expectation of thrilling courtship with a man who APPEARS to be a top 5% alpha is dashed by his sloppy execution, she burns with resentment at the lost opportunity for love, and retroactively blames the Assumed Alpha for her entire history of dating woes. Her blame can shoot out of her in sudden flares of anger, in the form of a scorching shit test or nasty rejection and departure.

This is why I have observed that oftentimes the men who do really well with women are those who are very charming but aren’t especially handsome and are therefore unburdened by women’s expectations. It’s better to pleasantly surprise women than to unpleasantly disappoint women. The Assumed Beta with Game will arouse women to a deeper and longer-lasting intrigue if his alpha personality puts the lie to his beta phenotype. The Assumed Alpha, with inverse alacrity, will disenchant women to a shallower and shorter-lasting curiosity if his beta personality puts the lie to his alpha appearance.

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From testimony given two weeks ago, May 3rd, by James Comey, FORMER FBI director, to Congress:

COMEY:
I mean where oftentimes they give us opinions that we don’t see a case there and so you ought to stop investing resources in it. But I’m talking about a situation where we were told to stop something for a political reason, that would be a very big deal.

It’s not happened in my experience.

Case dismissed. Comey testified long after his meeting with President Trump occurred that there was no attempt by anyone to thwart an FBI investigation for political reasons. Libshits ur done here.

Comey’s Catch-22 is this: Either political pressure from Trump to stop the Flynn investigation didn’t happen and Comey is now lying about what he wrote in a memo after meeting with Trump, or political pressure from Trump to stop the Flynn investigation did happen and Comey didn’t report it at the time and therefore lied under oath about it later in his testimony.

Was Comey lying during his testimony, or is he lying now about the context of his memo which he had a “friend” leak to the Nuevo York Times (being the pussy he is he couldn’t leak it himself)? Lessee, the weasel who dutifully bent to Gay Mulatto’s political pressure back in July 2016 to exculpate thecunt from all wrongdoing in her email case was just fired by Trump, so he might be a little bitter about it.

Phoney Comey is FUCKED, but I’m sure the Gaystream Media, which now is so depraved and united in their womanish rage against the dying of their Globohomo Order that they are the ones who give marching orders to their subservient Democreep Party, will find a way to frame their coverage to have Comey wrangle out of this smelling like a rosey.

The Maul-Right can’t let that happen. All memesters and shiv soldiers to the front.

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If you come at the Queen, you best not miss.

Details.

A private friendzoning is a punch to the nuts, but a public friendzoning….well that’s just a drawing and quartering of a man’s soul. Unnecessary cruelty.

A day-spa visit to the Chateau imbibing the lessons herein could’ve saved this man such a public humiliation. Not to mention spared him the time and energy he’s obviously wasted chasing a phantom pussy.

Remember the patented CH Jumbotron Test?

Every text or email or recordable instance of conversation [or attempted lip-kiss] you have with a girl must follow this simple rule:

If it were given a public airing, let’s say on a blog or a sports stadium jumbotron, you should feel comfortable with what you have written [or executed] for the world to see.  You should not feel an urge to wince, because it will be clear to everyone reading [or watching] it how alpha you are.  If the thought of someone other than you and your girl reading [or watching] your permanently archived romantic exchanges makes you cringe with embarrassment, then you are doing something wrong that will eventually lead to your girl dumping you [or publicly thwarting your romantic yearning].

This fledgling womanizer at the Rockets game failed the Jumbotron Test in the most cringeworthy way imaginable.

A word of advice to the men assembled: When the kiss cam swings your way, jerk your ice cream cone away from the girl you’re with. That’s far more likely to win over a woman’s lust than taking advantage of the moment like a weaselly beta male to steal a kiss that you can’t be sure will be reciprocated (many such cases).

Don’t try to kiss a girl in the public eye, unless you know she’ll return the ardor. The alpha male first kisses a woman’s id before aiming for her lips. The beta male gets it backwards: estranged from a woman’s id, he tries to access it by sneaking in an opportunistic kiss on her lips. Naturally, she turns the cheek to him for assuming her heart would follow his kiss, and secretly relishes the cruelty she inflicted on her hapless blue balled orbiter.

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Globalist Girl Cuckryan is happy to deny Trump funding for his signature campaign promise. Via:

Despite President Trump’s request for more than $1 billion to fund the Mexican border wall this year, Paul Ryan is expected to exclude the money in the April spending bill.

Ryan recently told reporters funding for the border wall may be included in next year’s bill.

Now it loos like Paul Ryan may get his way.
According to reporters President Trump may wait until later this year for funding of the border wall thanks to Paul Ryan and Republican lawmakers.

The Senate needs 60 votes to pass legislation. The leftoid legacy media is framing the issue so that Recucklicans take full blame in the event of a government shutdown, but there are only 52 GOP Senators; eight more are needed for passage of the spending bill. Not one Democreep traitor is interested in protecting America’s borders from foreign invasion. Cuckryan is the last globalist girl in the world to go to bat for Trump, so he’s all too eager to throw Wall funding under the bus to hurt Trump, and milk his Pyrrhic victory with vague assurances that the Wall “may” be funded next year. (Hint: it won’t, as long as Cuckryan is in power.)

Can Trump sign an Executive Order relocating Syrian rapefugees into Cuckryan’s neighborhood?

Ironically, it’s Ted Cruz who’s got the balls to fight for Trump’s Wall. Cruz is acting more Trumpian of late than Trump himself.

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You are about to enter another delusion, a delusion not only of religion and guilt but of race. A journey into a wacky cult of deracination. Next stop, the Christcuck Zone!

Please take a seat, you’ll find a vomit bag in the pocket in front of you. Trust us, you’ll need it. You won’t be able to un-see the contents of this video. It will haunt you for the rest of your life, like an evil clown nightmare. But your participation is necessary, to BEAR WITNESS to the abject degeneration of White Christianity.

Notice something besides the overarching virtue whoring evident in this Semen on the Mount? Our tawdry televangelist never asked for the black guy’s name. Not once, in the whole time our divine dindu was up there on stage being used as a prop to fluff Preacher Pussyhat’s sanctimonious ego. He said, “I need a young black man”. Not, “What’s your name?” Not even, “How are you today?” Just, “I need a young black man.”

Really, that says it all about Christcuckery. These fawning phaggots don’t actually give a shit about blacks. They merely want to use them as quickly discarded tokens to morally preen before their audience of equally empty-headed sanctimony signalers who for some godforsaken reason nurse a weird shame about living a decent life in their 98% White earthly utopias.

“I need a young black man”

….to make me feel good about myself
….to manufacture a glowing self-perception of my GoodWhiteness
….to guilt-trip other Whites into coughing up bennies for the MegaChurch coffers
….to masturbate furiously while watching my wife and her buck fucker
….to alleviate the searing humiliation of raising my wife’s son
….to pick my cult followers clean
….to sit still on stage for ten minutes to prove all those Very Bad, No Good, Awful BadThinking BadWhites wrong about race differences

The charade gets even more ridiculous. Pastor PutItInMyAss tells Saint Souvenir that he is valuable and “society hasn’t told you that”. Color me shocked that a self-abasing White cuck uses the same vapid platitudes as dumbfuck feminists.

8:53 — “We bros!”

Hilariously nauseating. If “I NEED A YOUNG BLACK MAN” is the Christcuck petition, “WE BROS!” is the Christcuck atonement. Redemption is achieved by adopting a few Africans until your biological kids need twenty years of therapy.

If this is the future of White America, they deserve their overrun by barbarian hordes. Nothing worth saving here, move along.

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File under Would Bang: Brittany PettiBONE and Tara McCarthy interview Ricky Vaughn (whom I would not bang, for the record).

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