SJW Game

SJW (Social Justice Warrior) Game is described by commenter “Matthew Yglesias is a sex god”:

Jerkboy game has nothing on SJW game

1. Read Huffinton Post, Slate, ThinkProgress, and Vox religiously. Check in with the NYT on occasion for a moderate opinion.
2. Regularly post on facebook articles about the benefits of eating local and organic, heartwarming tales of minority children, and uplifting quotes about how happiness is more than just material wealth (since you yourself have a shitty job).
3. Don’t lift weights
4. Boast of your support for women’s rights
5. Impress girls with your knowledge of craft beer and artisanal cheeses
6. Continue wearing an Obama t-shirt into 2015
7. Whenever the bro who’s banged several of your attractive female friends leaves and is safely out of earshot, loudly proclaim “wow, that guy’s such a douchebag.”
8. Marry a Lena Dunham look-a-like at the age of 33
9. Rejoice that your wife doesn’t want to have kids, giving you both more time to devote your lives to helping others
10. Drunkenly hit on your apolitical friend’s attractive wife at a cocktail party. Get rebuffed.
11. Go on game websites and ridicule them for being misogynist posers who don’t actually get laid

Numbers 7 and 11 are the sharpest shivs. So many shitlibs I’ve known who guffawed about some cool jerk’s “douchebaggery” once he was out of the room. “Douchebag” has morphed into a catch-all SWPL term for a white man with noticeable muscle development, fearless social command that attracts slender women, and insufficient fealty to leftoid groupthink. It’s the Wormtongue whine of the bitter androgyne.

MYIASG’s comment arrived too late to be included in this week’s Comment of the Week (COTW) sporting event, but it will be grandfathered in as a submission for Comment of the Year.

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Beta Or Omega Male?

Many readers sent CH a link to this story for inclusion in the Beta of the Year contest. But is he really beta, or is he that lowest of life forms, the omega male?

A Chinese man dropped to his knees for 30 days (and 30 nights?) in an act of contrition to win back his girlfriend. (No word on what he did that pissed her off. Journalism!)

The Beta Male of the Year series is meant as a learning tool. Betas are put under the spotlight to help readers understand the kinds of commonly encountered male behaviors that cause vaginas to snap shut. Extreme supplication like that committed by the Chinaman in the story above isn’t very helpful by dint of its rarity and absurdity. Most beta males aren’t committing treason against their sex in quite so spectacular a fashion.

What this is a better example of is a greater omega male at a loss for what to do when the love of his life (and probably the first woman to sneak a peak at his chicken beak) breaks up with him. He reverts to classic omega form: Prostration, appeasement, self-abnegation, and public humiliation. The funny thing is, he doesn’t appear to be an especially ugly man, yet his theatrics are so off-putting to women that everyone reading this intuitively knows his girlfriend is filling with disgust at the prospect of laying with him again.

Omega males aren’t all sexless basement dwellers. The better species of them sometimes manage to get girlfriends (quality control notwithstanding to the contrary). What usually distinguishes greater omega males from beta males is the facility with which omegas will acquiesce to their gelding and the energy they bring to doing all the wrong things to woo women.

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Feminism For Bros (DEFCON: Vomit Bag)

I dare you to watch this all the way through without feeling at least a small gurgle of nausea.

Feminism For Bros (level 105) is a PSA by a group called “Centre for Gender Advocacy”, based in Montreal, associated with something called The Consensual Collective. I imagine corporate headquarters is a coffeehouse office where two manlets and a chubby cunt get together to project their confused sexuality and self-loathing onto normal people. The video shows a couple, (mostly the vaguely male hipster), asking for verbal consent at each step of foreplay. Unedited footage taken five years into the future shows him asking her if he may briefly appear naked in front of his now-wife while he dresses in the morning. She asks if she may shove her prized buttplug up his rectum. He assents.

“Can I kiss you?” “Can I put my hand here?” “Can I take your shirt off?”

Bzzt! Rebuffed! Her shirt stays on. They go back to loud kissing that sounds like an octopus pulling its tentacles off wet glass.

“Can I kiss your neck?” “Can I take off your shirt?”

This time he gets the green light. Not really sure what difference waiting ten seconds to approve his shirt-removal request made for the girl.

“Can I kiss you… there?”

He points to her sternum, that well-known erogenous zone on women.

“Can I go down on you?”

Of course, this faggot opts to mash his face in her pussy before banging her. OF COURSE. Pre-sex cunnilingus is 99% of times a huge beta male tell.

“CONSENT IS FUN”

No it’s not when it has to be verbalized every five seconds in a cloud of gnawing fear that a presumptuous ear nibble could lead to a rape accusation.

“CONSENT IS SEXY”

No it’s not, and telling yourself that won’t make it so.

“CONSENT IS SAFE”

Pretty sure gonorrhea is transmissible with or without consent. And there’s no way this manlet is overpowering the girl.

“CUTV”

So close.

I hope this video was a parody, because if not, then the people involved with this shit, or people who would seriously entertain its message, are down with the sickness that has no cure.

Coitus interruptus, meet passion interruptus. I can’t think of much that would kill the mood faster than asking for permission to escalate foreplay and slip the tip in. A barrage of mewling inquiries, however smokily whispered, makes whiskey dick seem like the pinnacle of bedroom prowess. Fatrelle whipping out his micropeen and flicking it to life with his porky pinky would be less likely to spoil the moment than a guy following BRO FEMINISM verbal consent guidelines.

Anyone who’s been with non-psychotic non-feminist girls (or, if you’re a woman, with men who aren’t afraid of their penes) knows how this works: The heat of the moment carries both of you forward through sexual escalation, wordlessly (unless you’re into actual dirty talk), clothes flying everywhere, hands exploring, mouths traveling great expanses of flesh, until panties are tugged off and sex ushers a symphony of moans. Consent is implied, usually, by the girl not saying “no” or pushing herself off the man.

This is what normal human beings whose brains weren’t hijacked by parasites do. As a female commenter at Total Frat Move put it:

As a girl, if a guy can’t take at least some control, it’s a turn off. If a girl doesn’t want sex then she will say so. If I want you, you’ll be able to tell. This was ridiculous.

Most feminist agitprop amounts to unattractive or psychologically defective women running from that scary and confusing female desire to submit to a dominating man, and grappling with those feelings that remind them of their vulnerable femaleness by neutering any man foolish enough to pursue them. A man who obeys feminist pique is a man who is never getting laid, and that’s the point. This stuff helps filter out weak betas who are too insecure to give women what they really want: A sexually entitled man who doesn’t second-guess his allure.

Males who are into this game are poseurs angling for broken snatch, genuine androgynous misfits play-acting revenge fantasies against the jocks who flipped their lunch trays, or sexually parched spergs who can’t read nonverbal arousal cues.

ps The reader who sent this clip wrote, “I love America, but I’m moving.” This sentiment must be shared by more men every day who watch this freak parade of putrescence shamble over the remnants of a once vital culture.

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Affirmative Resentment

An Atlantic tweenzine article by Conor Friedersdorf — you may remember tiny prancer Conor from his time in the spotlight as a Chateau Heartiste peeñata — grapples with the blowback from California’s new “affirmative-consent” law, the insane, human nature-denying law favored by ugly feminists who want to make romantic pleasure as difficult as possible for men and pretty women to experience.

Friedersdorf passes along a testimonial from a CA male student who attempted to comply with the law by asking women for explicit verbal consent during each stage of the courtship. You can imagine the thousand points of love that bloomed.

Dear Conor,

I am a recent graduate, and want to share with you a few of my experiences that I think are illustrative of why the new affirmative-consent laws are out of touch with the reality of the human experience. I hope they can be of some value to the debate.

I was raised by a left-leaning, feminist family who (at least I thought at the time) were relatively open about sex.

One thing you have to understand about lefties, particularly the white variety: They are the biggest prudes on the planet. The only difference between them and the evangelicals they love to hate are the target vices of their self-righteousness.

But while I arrived at college with a healthy respect for women, I was totally unprepared for the complex realities of female sexuality.

CH needs to reach more men before the manlet cancer metastasizes.

“Oh,” sighed one platonic female friend after we had just watched Harrison Ford grab Alison Doody and kiss her is Indiana Jones and theLast Crusade, “Why don’t guys do that kind of thing anymore? Now days they are all too scared.”

Threatening to toss men before a tribunal for busting a move might dampen their enthusiasm. I mean, I’m not connecting too many dots here.

On our second night together, one of my first partners threw up her hands in disgust. “How am I supposed to get turned on when you keep asking for permission for everything like a little boy?” She said. “Just take me and fuck me already.”

She didn’t stay with me for long.

Alert the media.

This would be a recurring theme. More than once I saw disappointment in the eyes of women when I didn’t fulfill the leadership role they wanted me to perform in the bedroom. I realized that women don’t just desire men, they desire men’s desire―and often they don’t want to have to ask for it.

A woman who has to ask for a man’s desire can never trust him. Once the seed of distrust is planted, it grows and chokes the life out of every interaction.

I also realized that I was in many ways ashamed of my own sexual desire as a man, and that this was not healthy.

Walk with your cock leading the way. Women love men who are proud of their tumescent entitlement. This is perhaps the hardest lesson for constitutional weaklings to assimilate. It cuts against a lifetime of assuming the rump-up position appeasing their betters.

At this point I was experiencing some cognitive dissonance with my upbringing, but in time learned to take an assertive lead unless I got a “no” or otherwise thought I was about to cross a boundary as indicated by body language.

One night I ended up back in a girl’s room after a first date (those do happen in college). She had invited me in and was clearly attracted to me. We were kissing on her bed, outer layers of clothing removed, but when my hands wandered downward she said, “No, wait.” I waited. She began kissing me again, passionately, so again I moved to remove her underwear. “Stop,” she said, “this is too fast.” I stopped.

“That’s fine,” I said. I kissed her again and left soon after, looking forward to seeing her again.

Interestingly, leaving a woman in the lurch of lust is not a guaranteed clit-killer. Off the tongue of a skilled vagician, a takeaway of this style could incite a girl to a higher plane of ecstasy.

But my text messages received only cold, vaguely angry replies, and then silence.

He still had her at angry (the opposite of indifference), but he lost her by the time silence rolled in to steal the show.

I was rather confused. Only many weeks later did I find out the truth from one of her close friends: “She really wanted you, but you didn’t make it happen. She was pretty upset that you didn’t really want her.”

“Why didn’t she just say so then, why did she say we were moving too fast?”

Much to learn, he has…

“Of course she said that, you dumbass. She didn’t want you to think she was a slut.”

The liberal male rationalization hamster is almost as swole as the generic female hamster.

Talk about confusing. Apparently in this case even no didn’t mean no. It wasn’t the last time I’ve come across “token resistance” that is intended to be overcome either. But that’s a line that I am still uncomfortable with testing, for obvious reasons.

Men are the risk-taking sex. It’s biologically ordained. And so women expect men to push the envelope. When a man fails to do that, she’ll wonder what other chances at greatness he’ll choose to decline.

But I have learned not to ask when it clearly isn’t necessary, or desired.

One of my fondest sexual experiences started with making eye contact across a room, moved to a dance floor, and then to an empty bathroom. Not a single word was ever spoken, because none had to be. We both knew and understood. I was a man and she was a woman, and we found ourselves drawn together in that beautiful way that men and women have been since a time immemorial, a time long before language was ever spoken.

Today in California this would be considered rape. I find that very sad. Women are not infantile. They can make their own decisions about sex, and that includes being able to say no―even if they don’t want to have to say yes.

Regards,

Anonymous

Either women are infantile, or they’re adults with agency. If the former, then they need to be treated like infants across the board. This would include removing their right to vote or divorce without cause. If the latter, then these feminist-inspired policies and laws need to be trashed. That means Title IX, affirmative action, and all the rest of the “level playing field aka anti-white male” nonsense must go.

Affirmative-consent laws are in practice Affirmative Resentment laws, because a woman will resent any man who seriously abides a law that requires him to ask her permission to crave and profane her body. Even feminist slags with a two-ton chip on their shoulders will be unable to control feelings of revulsion toward men who accept their demands for slavish foreplay petitions.

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The Single Mom And Her Masturbating Bastard

A single mom asks “Prudie” for advice about how to stop her horny faphappy son.

Q. My Son Can’t Keep His Hands Off Himself: I am a single mother with a 14-year-old son. I knew this time was coming but now I fear I am close to my wit’s end. I have seen evidence in his bedroom, the laundry room, and the kitchen. I know this is normal, but how much is too much? Things escalated last week when his hockey coach called me in for a conference. I have noticed my son has been taking a lot of penalties this season. It turns out he has been intentionally going to the penalty box to pleasure himself. I lashed out at him when about this and things have been awkward around the house this weekend. Am I overreacting? I know I have to talk about this with him in a calm setting, but I always find the thought of this type of discussion horrifying. I am losing sleep and I don’t want to succumb to letting his father deal with this, but what should I do?

Prudie’s (aka Emily YOFFE’s) answer is mostly anodyne, though she can’t resist the femtard compulsions to demonize the biological father and rationalize cutting him out of the picture, and to suggest “therapaaaaaah” for the boy. Yes, that’s the answer to all the problems that boys cause empowered, independent women: Therapy. While you’re at it, why not pry his eyeballs open and have him watch 48 hours of uninterrupted footage of suffrage marches and The View?

“I don’t want to succumb to letting his father deal with this”

Gotta love the pathological, unrelenting selfishness of single moms. Yes, don’t succumb to letting the kid have a talk with his real dad about something that his dad would intuitively understand. Better to yell at him for soiling your cuntrags.

This story? This is future America. Those who are nonchalant about our coming single momhood dystopia take heed: Your world is about to fill up with a lot more crusted calling cards.

Fuck this gay earth.

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JavaScript Male

Skittles Man has his antithesis: Meet JavaScript Male*.

Commenter Reservoir Tip writes,

The female reception of this piece, even here at CH, has been incredibly elementary.

I imagine the beta man-boob response is no different.

Reminds me of a funny story, actually.

Recently I was on Facebook (I know I shouldn’t have one, but Tinder) and a girl friend of mine asked via status update whether she should get a pixie cut or grow her hair out.

I told her, “pixie cut and I’m personally kicking your ass.”

To which her feminist friends and a former friend of mine turned hardcore cultural Marxist manboob replied, “omg Reservoir Tip’s opinion is stupid. Why are you even concerned about societal standards of beauty?” (LOL)

Then the manboob, who I assume is somewhat into the girl, posts something for the beta hall of fame.

“I wrote you a java script to help you figure out which style is going to work best for you” and of course, he posts the script.

As if she has any idea what the hell to do with it. Neutered man-booby goonery at its finest. I could practically feel his anticipation for her thanks and whatever attention she would afford him.

“Oh I know how to win her over! I’ll write her some java script! That’ll get her attention!”

“I’LL WRITE HER SOME JAVA SCRIPT!”

“JAVA SCRIPT”

*I can’t bring myself to call him JavaScript Man, because the term “man” carries positive character associations. Low T beta losers who behave in ways more typical of women and betray a lifetime spent struggling with testes nestled somewhere up near their diaphragms are best described as “male”, acknowledging the fact that they possess some rudimentary form of biological maleness, however actively it’s suppressed.

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The End Game Of The Matriarchy

The Patriarchy is dead. God save the Patriarchy!

In the archives are CH posts about feminist utopias, how they would manifest and the signs that America is becoming a version of one.

If the lesson wasn’t yet clear, matriarchies suck. Historically and present-day, matriarchies (or facsimiles thereof) are associated with poverty, disease, violence and navel-gazing decline. Where a matriarchy is evolving, a civilization is devolving.

Here’s Exhibit M as evidence that we in the US may have crossed a matriarchal Rubicon (Boobicon?):

What used to be underground — gigolos, minus the tacit sex — has gone mainstream. A start-up is offering women their very own personal “ManServant“, or what we in the seduction domculture call “beta male orbiters”, “white knights” and “incels“.

It’s not a stripper who gets naked and rubs his greasy body all over you. It’s a ManServant: a gentleman who treats you like a queen. Book one for a bachelorette party or any gathering to be your personal photographer, bartender, bodyguard, and butler all in one.

How is a ManServant addressed?

A ManServant will answer to the name you’ve bestowed upon him, whether it’s Garçon, Bartholomew, or Ryan Gosling. [ed: John Scalzi and David Fatrelle were taken.]

What is a ManServant’s code of conduct?

A ManServant always responds with “As you wish.”

A ManServant shall address clientele with “My lady.”

A ManServant keeps his penis in his pants and out of the lady’s face.

The Rules to being a ManServant: The lady always makes The Rules.

What are some of the ManServant’s duties?

Takes photos.

Gives round-the-clock compliments.

Cleans up your hot mess.

Going to a ballgame? He’ll be your sports announcer, wait in line for the restroom, and get your hot dogs.

At the club, he’ll act as your bodyguard: secure drinks, shoo away douchebags, and drop off or pick you up curbside.

If it weren’t so ominous it’d be funny.

Naturally, women have to pay for these services, which is telling in itself. Women don’t value men for their penii or sexual prowess. What women value is what women will pay for, and that is male commitment, provisioning, and emotional support.

Just as naturally, real life ManServants get no nookie, because what comforts women in their moments of social need is not the same as what excites them in their moments of sexual need.

ManServitude is just about the end game of the feminist matriarchy. Strip men of all offensive male sexuality — essentially create a kneeling army of eunuchs — and set them loose upon the land to take photos of attention whores and cockblock men with dignity and a working pair.

How soon until ManServitude moves from plucky business venture to accepted cultural practice to legally enforced Damegeld?

Recall CH’s maxim about the true nature of feminism (and, related, the true nature of equalism):

The goal of feminism is to remove all constraints on female sexuality while maximally restricting male sexuality.

Welcome to AndrogyNation. Where the women are pushed to be men and the men are happy to be women.

I talk a fair bit about the decline of America, but theatrical aplomb aside I never seriously entertained the thought that the collapse of my country would happen within my lifetime. Now I’ve begun to wonder.

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