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Archive for the ‘Tool Time’ Category

Excessive focus on IQ like that found in certain HBD quarters is dangerous for the reason that it will blind one to group differences in other important human characteristics.

Before hackles rise, this post is not an apologia for ignoring mean and individual IQ differences. IQ matters, arguably matters more than anything else, in big and small and strange ways. You will hardly find a soul who’d wish to possess fewer IQ points than more IQ points.

But IQ isn’t the whole story. There are, for instance, group differences in personality, temperament, proclivity to violence, trustworthiness, and what I’ll call General Interactive Behavioral Socialization (GIBS…medat).

That last mouthful is just a fancy way of describing how people socialize and behave when they aren’t constrained by etiquette or coerced by authority figures to act otherwise. A roomful of white people will organically form a particular social dynamic that is quite different than that formed by a roomful of black people, even controlling for IQ. Anyone who isn’t a lying liar and has not spent a lifetime in a cave knows this intuitively. High school cafeterias are usually the first real world laboratory where these truths about group social behavior and self-segregation become incontestably apparent. We then spend the rest of our lives trying to forget the patterns we noticed in high school.

Proof of group differences in personality and behavior can be found in science, if you’re the sort to mistrust your lying eyes. Chinese and White infants exhibit stark personality differences. In school, black students behave wildly different from white students, even within the same classroom where instruction and teacher demands are similarly accorded.

IQ fetishism can lead the sperg type to sputter futilely when confronted by a trollish leftoid provocateur who disingenuously (or racially) advocates for the importation of millions of Northeast Asians with their average 105 IQs into historically White countries with their average 100 IQs. If IQ is your be all-end all, you won’t have a defense against that line of argument. Now, if I *had* to choose at gunpoint, I’d rather America be flooded with a billion Chinese than a billion Africans, but this doesn’t mean that a billion Chinese, however efficient they are at building high-tech metropolises, won’t utterly destroy America as she used to be known and change it into something resembling China 2.

IQ similarity notwithstanding to the contrary, the Chinese people as a group are markedly different in temperament and personality than White European people as a group. If you value diversity of nations, you would be against turning America into China 2. No offense to the Chinese, but I’d rather they enjoy the full flowering of their Chinese-ness in their own country.

Given the obvious implications above, you would think that normally smart bloggers would avoid straying into territory that fetishizes IQ to the detriment of any other consideration. Commenting about enclaves for the intelligent, PA wrote,

Any solution short of dejure racial segregation will be harmful to whites. But I understand, baby steps toward dismantling the Civil Rights monstrosity we’re living under now.

A white person with 90 IQ is very different from a 90-IQ back in temperament, attitude toward sex and family, future time orientation, taste in music, and a myriad other things.

Lower-SES whites also need informal social contact with higher SES whites for aspirational reasons and guidance. Higher class whites also benefit from communal ties with blue collar whites–the malign downstream effect of the upper class white bubble is apparent in nearly every subject of discussion here.

This sensible appreciation of race differences beyond the IQ factor was met with scorn by the NYC-residing proprietor.

A 90-IQ white is a lot more like a 90-IQ black than he or she is like a 115-IQ white.

And 90-IQ whites are pretty much identical to 90-IQ Mestizo Hispanics.

A statement like this betrays a lifetime devoted to shutting oneself into a video gaming room or an exclusive summer camp. I don’t know if he’s lived in downscale white or black neighborhoods — if he claims he has and still makes statements like this perhaps he should be called “Liar of the Blogosphere” — but for those who have the thing you notice almost before you notice if it’s raining outside is how differently “prole” whites behave from ghetto or even middle class blacks. A group of 90 IQ whites won’t be scintillating company to a 115 IQ spiteful ingrate, and they’ll have some annoying habits of mind and banal cultural pleasures, but they will never be mistaken for a group of 90 IQ blacks. Not by anyone with a modicum of personal integrity. The difference in vibe and social experience, not to mention volume, will feel like a slap across the face.

IQ fetishism, in case you couldn’t previously tell, happens to be quite frequently the province of HBDers with an axe to grind against… mmm, how shall we say… heathen whites. The acidic spite and nursed lifelong hatred waft like a cloud of smog from a Shanghai knock-off factory.

SWPLs and their sympatico ethnies don’t much care for flyover whites, but if their hands were forced you can bet Fuckerberg’s bankroll that they’d choose to live in a neighborhood of predominately 90 IQ whites than in a hood of predominately 90 IQ blacks. The hatred they feel for “the wrong kind of white people” — as opposed to the indifference and pity and paternalism they feel toward their non-white pawns — is better explained by that ageless aphorism “There but for the grace of God go I”. As kissing cousins, the massed numbers of prole whites are the nearest threat to the pretentious SWPL’s cultivated sense of aristocratic superiority.

In related shivs, I wonder if LotB is aware that the cast of Jersey Shore are prepped to exaggerate their prole behavior to extremes? It’s like he actually believes reality TV is reality. Too funny!

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Liberals are gloating over the recent editorial choices to geld Thor and race cuck Captain America. The former will become Whor, the female Thor, and the latter will become Captain Gibsmedat, the numinous negro who saves the right kinds of white people from the wrong kinds of white people.

I kid, I kid… you not. The last time I read a comic I was 7. I don’t get the appeal of the genre to grown men with, presumably, descended testes. Nevertheless, the anti-white male animus driving these character changes that have shocked and delighted and stirred the quivering anuses of the comic book reading community are yet one more telling detail of America’s decline.

The decline is in the details.

One common thread to most of these anti-white male insurgencies is the cast of goons and misfits running the show into the ground. Take a look at this face shot of the fat white liberal quasi-male named Devin Faraci, who dribbled a premenstrual snarkstain titled “Sorry White People, Captain America is Black Now.”

Hat tip, League of Extraordinary Sadists.

The fat white liberal face is archetypal. These race traitors all have a “look”, don’t they? Genetics, perhaps, or just a lifetime spent wiping orange Cheetostaches off their porcine mugs. Look at that faggot. He could double as an old lesbian halfway through her hormonal replacement therapy. If ever a face looked as if it was born to have a fist buried in it, Faraci has it.

The anti-white liberal white male is the most loathsome of creatures. More despicable than the minorities he jerks off to, because he fulminates a credo at 180 degree odds with his chosen lifestyle for status whoring feels. Hypocritical, smug, and you just know the first to run from a fight, gathering his skirt up and shrieking like a little girl.

I wonder about the demographics of this pigman’s neighborhood? Anyone care to investigate? I might put up a post in future called “The Leftoid List”, with the names of infamous anti-white leftoid equalist turds juxtaposed with the race demographics of their immediate neighborhoods. Should be illuminating.

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Cuck Up

Cuck up, idiom, slang, origin: Chateau Heartiste.
1. Variation on the “man up” theme; to demand of a cuckolded man that he support the bastard child of his cheating wife or girlfriend.
2. A taunt directed at a beta male to ostensibly shame him to provide for the child of another man’s seed, often delivered by ugly feminists and low SMV white knights who are projecting their fear of mass beta male abandonment of a sexual market skewed by law and custom to satisfy the preferences of women and women alone.

Courtesy of reader Waffles, a (probably fake but still illuminating) story on Reddit that serves as a wonderful microcosm of the murky churn at the bottom of the sexual market, where fat sluts dupe manboobed omegas into race cuckoldry.

Off topic but will be appreciated by the CH crowd. Over on Reddit a debate was going on after some guy posted this. His kid came out black. There apparently were actually people telling him that he should “man up” and take care of the kid as his own! Delusional.

The OP:

I did not walk out on anything. It is not my responsibility to raise a kid that did not come from me. I may sound like an ass, but I can’t believe the people who said to raise it as mine. Imagine your wife finally getting pregnant, only to see a different race pop out, and you realize it’s not yours. I am not raising that kid, however enjoy your free karma.

definitely not master of her domain

Some choice replies:

Some white babies do come out looking black though, sometimes you gotta let it air out for a little bit for the complexion to even up.

😆

At least your wife had the decency to fuck a black man, so you could tell she cheated on you. So you’ve got that going for you, which is nice.

Womb half-full.

Did you drink grape soda the day before?

Science!

Before you lawyer up and sue for divorce, I would ask you to take a step back and a deep breath. Try to remember that it isn’t the little guy’s fault.

Cuck up… “for the children”.

I must ask, are you mad that the child is not yours; Or is it because the child is Black?

Because racism is the true moral outrage here.

He has your palms.

at least he has a chance to get laid before he turns 30

You laugh, but every other relationship depicted on televagina these days is essentially a warmly accommodated race cuckold fantasy. Sorry White knighters… white women eat that shit up.

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“i’m biased against PIV”

The Germans have a word (the Germans always have a word) for “a punchable face”: Backpfeifengesicht.

Why do these male feminists all look the same? Is there a factory that shits out bald, pale, pencil-necked, peach-fuzzed, brony fluffers who were born with full diapers?

Self-flagellation is nothing new for the pillow biter set, but one wonders how effective the male feminism pose is as a mating strategy. Assuming the androgyne above isn’t a bottom, he must cop this degrading attitude on some level to score flabby feminist poon. It’s either an evolved behavioral strategy that works juuust often enough to prevent it from being culled from the male population, or, like open borders race cuckoldry, it’s a maladaptive expression of a genetic trait that may have been useful a long time ago in a different sexual environment when the steppe thundered with brazen misogynists and the sensitive man had some relative value to women.

Regardless, the male feminist strategy sucks for attracting cute girls unless you have compensating attributes like charm or social status.

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Word of advice: Barring extenuating circumstances, don’t go out with a group of guy friends and one cute woman. You will righteously tool yourself before you’ve taken two steps toward self-hell into the bar.

The ultimate in toolbaggery is the group of mirin’, pleased-as-punch über orbiters who show up to a venue with one hot girl in tow. Or rather, at center stage. Because that’s where she inevitably ascends — straight to a social throne that her gaggle of beta pissboys have adorned for her.

I recently witnessed such a spectacle. Five men — not strange looking by any stretch, just normal dudes in department-wear — and one flaxen-haired hottie tucked in the middle of her men-ses, like a small sun radiating through a Saturnian Tool Belt. Everywhere she drifted, they followed, establishing without a doubt to the unbiased third party eye who was gravitationally in charge. When she smiled, her triptych of tools smiled on cue. When she pointed at something, they looked en masse in the direction of her pointing finger. When she laughed, they laughed uproariously. When she sat down, they encircled her even more tightly, parting occasionally to unwittingly afford her a better view of better men.

And when she touched the arm of any one of them, the rest shuffled and frowned with noticeable agitation.

But the coup de brah by a long shot was when the five guys enlisted the help of a passing bartender to take a photo of the girl surrounded by her eunuch guards. The barkeep obliged, and the assembled onlookers retched. When he walked away after returning the phone-cum-camera, I was privy to his eye roll and bastard grin that he signaled to a colleague still behind the bar. The girls in my company also noticed the entire scene as it unfolded, and politely strained to hide their pity.

No one respects a beta orbiter, not even women. Everyone knows a beta orbiter when he sees him. But FIVE beta orbiters hoisting the royal palanquin of a darling princess? Have you no shame, sirs?!

Not one of those men was boffing that girl, I would bet your life savings on it. Every one of those men *wanted* to boff that girl, continuing in the theme of betting your life savings on it. She had no interest in boffing any of them, and to this bet I would add your mom’s life savings.

What is happening to men of the West? By most indicators they have forgotten how to be men, or if they know they’ve lost interest in the art. They kneel at the feet of women, kiss her painted toes, and kowtow to her every whim. They gleefully sacrifice their dignity to public judgment and ridicule. They thirst for the pussy like lost adventurers lapping sand from hallucinatory oases.

Mind you, my complaints extend as far as my big-picture interest in preserving the culture which facilitates my poolside time. As a practical, day-to-day calculation, the abject fealty of my competition increases the destructive power of my game.

If you’re a beta suffering a lengthy dry spell, don’t expect relief to come from the accompaniment of an asexual female friend. Certainly don’t expect it if she is accompanied by four more of your male buddies. If you must go out accompanied by a cute female friend, leave your buddies home. Insist that any additional hangers-on exclude too many of her male friends and include a few of her female friends. And, for the love of all that is hole-y, check the game literature for strategies and techniques detailing how to use a cute girl-friend as a pivot to other cute girls you have a realistic chance of sexing. Because that’s about the best use of a cute female buddy.

It’s almost tragic how unaware beta males are of the latent male SMV-boosting power which resides in an attractive female friend who can trigger the preselection algorithms of nearby girls. Unaware, and incapable of exploiting it. But isn’t that just another dulcet note in the battle hymn of the beta male? Strike suicidally at one’s own breast plate, and drip blood until a chubby spinster with sprog on the mind rescues you.

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Remember this post about the romantic Kiwi betaboy who followed an American woman around all night on New Year’s Eve like a puppy dog, only to part at 6AM with nothing to show for it but her coy instruction to “find me”? The niceguy romantic beta had one photo of her on his phone, which he promptly enlarged to masturbation size and uploaded to Facebook hoping she would see the green light at the end of his pier and the world would help them reunite in McLovin bliss.

There’s an update to this story. The girl found out about his Facebook campaign to locate her. Guess what happened.

A lovelorn New Zealand man who asked the Internet for help finding the American girl he met in Hong Kong last year on New Year’s Eve has found her – and she doesn’t seem too happy about it.

Reese McKee, 25, gained thousands of followers when he posted a picture of ‘Katie’ and his story of dancing the night away with her last December. She left him only with a first name, a hint that she lived ‘in D.C.’ and the alluring request: ‘find me.’

He has now revealed that online sleuths did, indeed, find her. And they mobbed her with so many messages that she deleted every single one of her social media accounts within hours. […]

Mr McKee says he hasn’t reached out to her yet – he’s waiting for the online furor to die down.

But, as one slightly horrified blogger points out, it’s likely she has no desire to to speak with Mr McKee now. Their romantic night took place nearly one year ago.

‘A year is enough time for someone to get married, go through several relationships, or even have a child,’ blogger amiantos writes.

It takes a lot of beta to convince a blue city American girl to tear down her Facebook wall. She must have felt the kind of disgust that’s typically reserved for mutilated bodies, dog shit, and flabby male feminists.

Moral of the story: Women are so predictable.

Some good does appear to have come out of this niceguy’s romantic abandonment.

Even Mr McKee seems a little sheepish about his quest to be reunited with the girl he had a chance meeting with a year ago. He told the Herald that he has turned down multiple media interview requests – including from ABC’s Good Morning America.

Shortly after Katie was found, he deleted his Facebook profile and the Facebook event that invited fans to help find her.

What’s that sensation hiding between the lines? Oh yes. Burning shame. Enough time has passed since the RealTalk Revolution invaded the public consciousness that it wouldn’t be a stretch to think betaboy here caught his eyeballs on a few websites such as this one and experienced a rude awakening about the nature of women and his own self-defeating courtship missteps. Two people win when a man is saved from incel purgatory: The man, and the woman he dates who gets to experience the joy of a proper seduction.

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Fat apologists:

Environmental shocks:

Keepin’ it real.

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