Archive for the ‘Ugly Truths’ Category

Have you ever wondered what it would look like if our esteemed institutions were run by snarky tween brats? Look no further than today’s FBI!

Sounds like another Captain Save A Ho exchange, except this being the FaggBI the roles are probably reversed, so “FBI Employee” is the male and “FBI Attorney 2” the female lawyercunt.

The two wrist flappers above aren’t Strzok-Page. They’re *another* couple of lovebirds making full use of FBI broom closets to whisper sweet nothings about how much they hate Trump and the half of America who voted for him.

The G-cunt can’t believe Trump might win and calls his supporters “dumb, uneducated, lazy POS”.

If you’ve ever doubted what your “betters” in the degenerate ruling class think of you, dispel your doubts. You now know. And you should be thinking of them in only one way: frog-marched to the public gallows.

Lookee there, FBI lolyers seem really nervous about the incoming Trump Reign. Could it beeeeeee…..GUILT? (yes)

Cornelius Rye comments,

A friend on Gab makes an insightful and important point about these emails and texts. It’s not about what’s in the texts, it’s about what’s NOT in the texts. Not once is there mention of Russia. It’s a smoking gun, as far as I’m concerned:

“What you see: FBI officials privately expressing hatred for Trump and Trump supporters.

What you don’t see: FBI officials privately expressing fear of Russians.

If there were texts or internal memos full of worry over Russia, they would have been leaked by now. No one actually believed the conspiracy theory; it was only ever an excuse to spy on Americans.”

Yup. Trumpists everywhere are beginning to smell Globohomoist blood in the water. Tucker Carlson:

The details tucked within Horowitz’s IG report — that there was systemic bias for Clinton and against Trump at the highest levels and strongly suggestive evidence of a coup to take out Trump — are damning, and at odds with the milquetoast conclusion offered to the press today. What gives? Here’s one take:

And this take:

I dunno what to make of the discrepancy between the substance and summary of the IG Report. Read through it and it’s clear there’s enough damning information in there to put multiple heads of the FBI and DOJ on trial for treason. Or at least to appoint a special prosecutor whose job it is to lock up as many Deep State creeps as he can while razing the institutions to the ground and rebuilding them in the image of the God Emperor.

Either (((Horowitz))) is /ourguy/ or he’s /theirguy/. There’s no such thing as an objective human being; everyone has their biases which necessarily taint their work and their interpretation of evidence. If he’s /ourguy/, then why the weak sauce summary that is utterly belied by the report’s substance? Maybe he’s playing a long game to set the stage for arrests of high ranking Deep Staters down the road so that normies aren’t scared off by the spectacle, and he didn’t want to come out too strong (recall that the second IG Report into the FISC abuses by the FBI is coming out next). Or he’s /theirguy/ and he deliberately watered down the summary knowing shit tier leftoid outfits like NPR would gleefully ignore the substance to report on the conclusion that there was no political bias found (laughable on its face).

IG Report goodies:

FBI employees received tickets to sporting events from journalists, went on golfing outings with media representatives, were treated to drinks and meals after work.

The Media-IC-DNC-FBICIADOJ Deep State is nothing if it isn’t greased with kickbacks, bribes, and payola.

More exposed FBI and DOJ corruption to tilt the election in favor of thecunt:

Oh, and Peter Strzok, the soyboy at the center of this Deep State tootsie roll? He wasn’t just some low ranking underling:

Strzok was in charge of

the HRC investigation

the FBI’s contribution to the hacking report

the Flynn investigation

the Trump/Russia investigation

and the first months of Mueller’s investigation.

His bias and malfeasance is kind of a big deal.


FFS is an understatement. Where is Jeff Sessions in all this? High treason occurs under his nose and…wtf is he doing about it? Waiting to pounce when the time is right? Jeff, the midterms are just months away; you don’t have much time left to make a move before a horde of screeching anti-American mystery meats and pussyhatters take the lower chamber.

Sexually de-polarized Strzok texted his equally sexually de-polarized butch lover Page a promise that “we” (the FBI) would “stop” Trump from becoming President:

That’s a leetle bit worse than personal bias; it’s open rebellion against democracy.

Everything you need to know about Strzok’s character is revealed in a text exchange with his horse-faced manjawed careerist shrike lover Lisa Page. They’re having a tiff over affirmative action for some beaner kid, and Strzok begins to grow a tiny pair of raisins which Page promptly cuts off and feeds to him, after which he assumes the submissive position. It’s malefeminism.txt.

Strzok is illustrative of elite degeneration (genetic and environmental) and rapid androgynization of the sexes. It’s not just him. It’s everyone who deigns to rule over us, including Comey who posted on his Instagram a pic of himself jumping up in the air like a teen girl in the grip of an attention whoring fever:

Just how institutionally gay is the FBI? This gay:

That exchange is real, if you can believe it. Terrence Rhine adds,

as with the lovebirds and Comey, and to some extent Brennan, one of the darkest elements of all this is the way these agents write like witless teenagers. there’s something far more incriminating about our society than the corruption in the fact that everyone in all these badass seats of authority are ultimately just shallow barely-mediocre brats.

I say “darkest” but it’s also why the carnivalesque burn-it-all-down element that comes with Trump is so appropriate. No one cares that powerful adults are like this, they like it that way because a society of shallow millennials (of all ages) is more docile and more devoted to consumption than a society of thoughtful adults.

The snarkification of once-esteemed American institutions, (and the apathy of Mewllennials to the corrupting influence on those institutions of late nite comedy sensibility), is one of the great un-reported facets of late stage republics morphing into gynarcho-tyrannies. This, for instance, is meant as a joke, but it’s not far removed from reality:

The bottom line: the FBI and DOJ under Gay Mulatto invented a Russia collusion hoax story in the hopes that it would lead to the impeachment of a duly-elected president:

PS An explainer on Ghey Gowdy’s recent shilling for the Deep State. tl;dr follow the hourly billing rates.

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Exhibit A (from a catalog of millions of exhibits, multiplying exponentially by the day):

A reader quips (programming note: I don’t reveal readers’ names if their comments were in conversations in which I participated, unless otherwise requested):

roflmao this literally looks like a refugee slipped into this chick’s apt before she woke up and sidled up behind her for some morning rape secks

Another reader wonders why this mogrelization crap is being shoved down our ocular throats,

Inter left battle of the brown uglies hating the attractive top of the pyramid white girls

Maybe. I’d add a few more (((demos))) to the uglies. But White male shitlibs still helm some of these newspaper, ad and marketing agencies, and presumably they’re signing off on this stuff too. Is it all just sexual obsession with White Women curdled by a spiteful sense of coming up short according to White Woman mate criteria?

My take is more cynical than even raw envy and resentment, or garden variety trangressiveness. Miscegenation agitprop is a central plank of the Globohomo agenda. Ask yourself why, and the answer you’ll find is located in the darkest deepest crevice of the chosensoul abyss. It’s nothing less than an attack on Whiteness, on the White race, and on the unique characteristics and beauty of White men and women.

This is serious psychological warfare. The purveyors of mystery meatification know damned well the primal feelings they’re stirring up like a hornet’s nest, and they revel in it. They know, too, that genetic heritage matters, despite their equalist bleatings to the contrary, and that nothing gladdens them quite like the idea that they are responsible for luring White women to the Swarth Side to toss away in a jizzstant millennia of genetic, and hence cultural and aesthetic, refinement.

It’s an all-out assault on Truth&Beauty and European Christendom from which we need an id cleanser:

Photo art by #Russian photographer Karina Kiel: ~ Mother and daughter ~

I’m reminded of a quote. “One drop of wine in mud is still mud. One drop of mud in wine ruins the wine.”

That there above is pure white wine.

PS The Deep State is closer to their reckoning. McCabe altered Strzok’s 302 report on Michael Flynn’s interview. Lies lies lies lies….get ready Comey Crü, the MAGAmen are coming for you!

PPS @BronzeAgePervert‍ has published a book. I don’t read many internet era dissident tomes, preferring myself the pre-digital age classics, but BAP’s book will be one I’ll add to my library.

PPPS Additional lulz. Directly from the White House, it has Berserker Brad Parscale’s fingerprints all over it:

PPPPS Nice comment here by Daniel Chieh on autonomy vs interdependence.

PPPPPS Frequency of the word ‘racism’ in NYTimes articles, 1851-2016:

Astute analysis by the poster: “The more actual racism decreases, the more it needs to be fabricated to keep the narrative alive.”

It took a couple of decades for the cultural marxist/equalist drivel to sink deep into the Western mind and lodge itself there, but once it did it was off to the races, and now here we are, arguing whether we have the moral and Constitutional right to keep out billions of Dirt World migrants from our homeland.

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Julia Allison is a media whore, “relationship” blogger, reality TV participant, and poz pusher for esteemed clam mags like Cosmo. In other words, civilization’s late stage dead weight.

At age 37, single and childless, she had a gratuitously delayed revelation. Overcome with the emptiness of her life and womb, seized by the unfamiliar sting of a piercing self-awareness, she felt a rare emotion: Regret.

Oh, she has a family…

A social media addict, she has two laptops, a desktop, an iPad & an iPhone along with two Facebook profiles, four Twitter handles, a Myspace page, a LinkedIn account, a Flickr feed, four Tumblrs, three Movable Type blogs, one WordPress, two Vimeos, one Quora account, two YouTube channels and a photogenic white shih-tzu named Lilly who – yep – tweets (@Lillydog). Combined, her accounts number over 150,000 fans, followers or subscribers.

…but, oddly, remains unfulfilled.

In a self-aggrandizing confessional, she blames a TV show produced by gay men that glamorized the lifestyle of the barren urban slut for leading her down the Plan B path.

Readers, get ready to journey across the pages of ancient Chateau tomes. Every banality of the modren wahman observed and noted in this outpost of love is sounded out in Mzz Allison’s cacophony of rue. There will be cock carousels, rationalization hamsters, Wall impacts, beta bux, jerkboy fux, femcuntery, psychological litter boxes, and more cameos to titillate Chateau guests.

Dating columnist reveals how ‘Sex and the City’ ruined her life

“Sex and the City” premiered on HBO 20 years ago this week, imprinting on a generation of women a love of fantastic fashion and dreams of their own Mr. Big. Among them was Julia Allison, who moved to New York in the early 2000s to live the Carrie Bradshaw lifestyle. She became a dating columnist, a party fixture and one of the first internet celebrities — thanks to Gawker, the site that loved to hate on her. But her pursuits sent her, ultimately, down a path of unhappiness and unfulfillment. Looking back on how the show’s ideals negatively impacted her life, Allison, now 37, tells Doree Lewak: “If I could go back and do it all over again, I wouldn’t.”

Ten years ago, on May 27, 2008, I was on top of the world.

I was riding in an Escalade en route to the “Sex and the City” movie premiere in Midtown with a Bravo camera crew in tow. When the SUV door opened, I stepped onto the pink carpet in my Allison Parris dress and Chanel bag. I felt like a star. I felt beautiful. I felt proud. I was rubbing shoulders with celebs and the goddess herself: Carrie Bradshaw, a k a Sarah Jessica Parker.

Since moving to New York City four years earlier, I’d established myself with my own dating column and graced the cover of Wired magazine. I was a public figure who was regularly photographed alongside such famous faces as Henry Kissinger and Richard Branson. I went to all the glam parties, was fodder for gossip sites, had signed a deal with Bravo for a reality show,

For those of unpolluted mind, Bravo is the gay channel. All gay, all the time, with a supporting cast of f@g hags.

and dated more than my fair share of Mr. Bigs.

Pump and dumps. But if she spoke with radical candor like that she wouldn’t be able to soothe her chafed ego and vagina. Anyhow, it’s funny that she thinks admitting to hopping a parade of cocks like a real life Samantha is both humble and bragging.

I had been profiled in the New York Times, and New York magazine called me “the most famous young journalist in the city.”

The biological clock is wound down, and the Kingdom of Zog is at hand: repent ye, and believe the 14 words.

I was considered by many to be Carrie Bradshaw 2.0. And I was happy to be given that identity for a while, but it was all a lie. At the premiere, I also felt like a fraud, insecure and embarrassed — like I didn’t belong.

But she soldiered on for another fourteen years play-acting as Carrie Bradshaw.

I grew up a nerd in Chicago, more likely to duck into the library than talk to other kids at recess. At 12, I thought I would never be kissed.

Everyone at age 12 thinks this way. The difference is that girls turn it into a theatrical release while boys who don’t bust a move drift into silent celibacy and are never offered paying gigs to write about it.

(Boy, did I make up for that later.)

What every man looking for a relationship worthy woman wants to hear. /s

The show was my road map. Of all the die-hard fans I knew, I was the most influenced by “SATC.”

Dating red flags.

At Georgetown University, where I enrolled in 1999, I started to wear dresses and learned how to do my makeup and curl my hair. The newfound male attention I received felt exhilarating.

Still delusional. Julia, in your late teens and early 20s it wasn’t your dresses and curls that captured the men’s attention.

I even started a dating column for my college paper called “Sex on the Hilltop,” which was modeled after Carrie’s column in the fictional New York Star.

Just the hilltop?

When the last episode of “Sex and the City” aired in February 2004, I hosted a viewing party for 200 guests. It was my swan song as well: Eight months later, I would move to New York, where, armed with my “Sex and the City” DVDs, my transformation really began.

What a headcase.

Based on what I knew from “SATC,” I expected the city to sweep me off my feet. I envisioned nonstop brunching and shopping.

Women really have no idea what their lives would be like if beta males decided to opt out of the civilization building racket. Brunching and shopping fantasies would be replaced by Hobbesian survival fantasies.

It had such an outsize influence on me that — even with a very expensive degree in government — I said to myself: “I’m obviously going to be a columnist.”

Another STEAM grad putting her knowledge to work. Grrlpower!

I later moved to Time Out New York, where I made $750 a week — a huge improvement, but still not enough to buy Manolos and barely enough to afford the $2,500 rent for my 400-square-foot apartment in Hell’s Kitchen.

Cheaper alternatives exist, but that would mean reduced proximity to Mr Bigs.

I lived on food bought for me on dates and the occasional bodega tuna sandwich.

Beta thirst is as responsible for the corruption of American woman as any prime time show on Twat TV.

Different men I dated gave me YSL shoes and status purses, just like Big did for Carrie on “SATC.”

The dirty secret about picking up women in NYC is that the men there are game-less marks who really do try to buy substandard pussy with shoes and purses (and wonder why they get strung along in asexual purgatory). This makes pickup a lot easier for the cockybrah who expects sex without a price tag.

(In 2006, when I landed a six-figure editor-at-large gig at Star magazine,

What talent does she have?
*spreads legs*
Oh yeah.

I also subscribed to Carrie’s ethos when it came to men. There was no such thing as a bad date — only a good date or a good brunch story.

Can you believe she’s still single at the post-Spring chicken age of 37?! What man wouldn’t want to wife up a broad who screws around for years of brunch convo fodder and has the crow’s feet to prove it?

In my writing,

which sucks, btw.

I gave my boyfriends nicknames (one was “Prom King”) just like Carrie and her friends did.

She writes like she’s 14 years old.

I went out with a prince: Lorenzo Borghese from “The Bachelor.” I even dated the British ex-boyfriend of “Sex and the City” creator Candace Bushnell — the original Carrie.

Common denominator: all the men are exes.

He was one of a few men who comprised the composite character Mr. Big.


In 2008, my two best girlfriends and I had just filmed a Bravo pilot for a show called “It Girls” (it wasn’t picked up). We were all invited by a 40-something billionaire to his Miami mansion; he even sent his private jet for us. It was just him, the three of us and his butler and chef. I don’t think this man was used to being told no, and he started chasing me around his mansion. I finally had to lock myself in the bathroom. The worst part: He sent us back on JetBlue.

“No, I don’t do double penetration.”

[Gawker] wrote about me as much as they wrote about Paris Hilton, but I had none of Paris’ resources to defend myself. Their core complaint about me was that I was a quote-unquote “fame whore.”

Gawker nailed that one. Bonus nailing: Gawker is gone.

Then, in 2011, one of my pilots was finally picked up by Bravo. The whole concept of “Miss Advised” was “real-life Carrie Bradshaw.” It was about three single women in three different cities, and I was the dating columnist for Elle in Los Angeles. It was “SATC” meets journalism. Producers sent me to a mind architect, a love coach and a witch in the pursuit of love.

But it came too late: In my heart, I was finished trying to be Carrie. When the show wasn’t renewed for a second season, I was relieved. The experience made me really look at myself: I was trying so hard to be liked that it was coming across as inauthentic and bitchy. Also, it was miserable to have cameras around all the time.

Women cultivate a growing dislike for cameras coincident with their number of years past prime nubility (and nearing prime sterility). How suspicious!

Finally, I cut my ties to New York and moved to San Francisco full-time in 2013.

If she had moved to a small Midwestern town instead of a coastal shitlibopolis, she might have a family to love today.

Finally, I decided to go private for a while. I stopped blogging and writing. I rarely post on Instagram.

Imminent Wall impact will do that to a girl.

These days I work as a change activist,


mounting summits

I bet.

for world leaders and serving as an adviser to startups and entrepreneurs looking to better the planet.

How many flights between Nü York and San Tranny does she take?

I dated a woman for a while

Young lesbianism: experimentation
Old lesbianism: necessity

But dating is not front and center in my life anymore,

…she says as if it was her choice.

although it was all I talked about in my 20s.

There was more conversational material to work with back then.

That’s pretty one-dimensional.

Aging beauties find comfort in scoffing at the preoccupations of their younger, hotter, tighter selves.

Last year, I ended a two-year relationship with a man who ultimately couldn’t [ed: wouldn’t] commit and wanted to be polyamorous.

A man unmotivated to tie himself down with a road worn, has-been slut? Will wonders never cease.

Again, “SATC” and the “lessons” it taught me is the culprit.

Julia Allison fucked her life up and she wants to blame a vapid TV show. “How do I write women so well? I think of a man, and take away reason and accountability.” (Fact: the ultimate culprit is the 19th Amendment.)

The show wasn’t a rubric on how to find a lifelong partnership.

She needed a TV show to teach her how to find a man and start a healthy relationship? Where were all the older female relatives in her life? Where was her brain?

If I was more grounded and had honestly assessed whether this man was a good partner for me, I don’t think we ever would have dated.

Translation: “If I was more grounded and had honestly assessed whether I was still good enough for any halfway decent man, I don’t think I’d be single and writing this pile of crap through tear-stained cheeks.”

Crushed and needing to regroup, I took a sabbatical and lived in Bali for eight months on a healing journey.


I was also celibate during my time there.

I do wonder what my life would have looked like if “Sex and the City” had never come across my consciousness. Perhaps I’d be married with children now?

Lady, I’m certain your arriving spinsterhood isn’t the fault of SATC, unless you’re easily brainwashed. Hmm, have I been overestimating women this whole time?

Who knows, but I can say for sure that, as clever and aesthetically pleasing as the show was

She obsessively stalks this show like it was an ex-bf. Psycho!

— and, as much as I agree with its value of female friendships — it showed too much consumerism and fear of intimacy disguised as empowerment.

It also showed, if she were willing to see, the damaging consequences of slutting it up and cackling about your smashed pussy with other empowered sluts.

It’s like candy: In the moment it feels good to eat it, but afterward, you feel sick.

Women have been warring with their essence for a few decades now, and the battle has been pitched in recent years. The Slut Pride degeneracy and its various cultural tributaries is women — particularly low to middling SMV women who must find novel ways to compete with hot babes — defying their sex-specific emotional burdens and aiming to exert a false, if momentarily satisfying, control over what they perceive as the weaknesses and vulnerabilities of their sex. One of these feminine “frailties” that the modren wahman wants to purge from herself is the undeniable truth that casual sex bothers women a lot more than it does men. Women simply can’t compartmentalize noncommittal sex with the same easy facility that men can. Hence, women like Julia “feel sick” afterward, something that only the soyest of soyboys would feel after licking clean the putrid slits of SATC-aping urban sluts whilst unwittingly grinding their microboners to a climax in the fur of a curious cat sniffing around their nethers.

Whom you’re dating, what you’re wearing, or how good you look at that premiere — none of that s–t matters unless you genuinely love yourself. Solid relationships are what really matter.

It’s funny how aging broads discover solid relationships matter when they start having trouble getting them.

Sure, I could have been a dating columnist for the rest of my life but, honestly, I gave really bad dating advice — and so did Carrie Bradshaw.

If a shiv artist like yours truly had told her that when she was younger and hotter, no doubt she would have lashed out like a cornered alleycat. The ravages of time and the looming threat of insol wonderfully focus the waning slut’s mind.

I want to be a different role model from the one I got. Two months ago, I started seeing someone I never would have dated 10 years earlier.

Cue Mr Beta Bux! Or just Mr Beta. Not many men with romantic options are excited about dating, let alone wifing up, a wrinkled slattern with a vagina that echoes. Luckily for Julia, there are desperate vegetable lasagnas willing to settle for her flabby hide rather than live in faptivity.

Back then, I wasn’t looking to get married or seek a lifelong partner, and that was a mistake.

Reciprocally, it would be a big mistake for any man with an ounce of self-worth to commit to a post-carousel cock holster rapidly nearing her expiration date. Why buy an old cow whose udders dried up long ago when fresh milk is on every slore shelf?

This man is a very reasonable choice, and I’m at a place in my life where reasonable is very sexy.

“reasonable” = passionless. What every woman knows deep in her heart is that the later in life she gets serious about finding a long-term partner, the likelier it is she’ll have to resign herself to settling down with an unexciting herb she doesn’t truly love. The remainder of her life will be a slapstick comedy of fake orgasms, fake headaches, screaming brats, and bathroom retreats with a dog-eared copy of Fifty Shades of Sadomasochism, all the while resentfully rasping through a fog of regret for the alpha males who got away when she was younger, hotter, tighter and thought she had all the time in the world.

Blame Carrie?

Nah. Blame yourself. And if your current relationship with your Reasonable Beta lasts longer than two more months after he reads you admitting that he would have been ignored by you ten years ago when your sexual rejection would have mattered, count yourself lucky. It could be worse. You could find yourself spending numberless weekends at the fertility clinic to birth your autistic twins. Oh wait.

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The entire social justice/aggrotolerance/equalism movement is a revolt by the ugly and freakish against the beautiful and normal. The ideology has no morality nor purpose and exists only to substantiate in political radicalization the aggrieved spitefulness of life’s losers.

Every day you can see this dynamic playing out between sexual market winners and losers. The feted Samantha Bee, whose resting and active bitch faces are indistinguishable, called Ivanka Trump a “feckless cunt” for the crime of being a beautiful radiant woman posting a photo on Twatter of herself and her young son sharing a tender hug. (Never mind Bee’s rationalizations — something to do with foreign invaders and their kids being kept in obama-era cages — the real impetus was the hate and envy of an ugly woman for a hot woman.)

Reminder that this is the same shitlibette Samanthe Bee…

…who hypocritically opposed a school relocation plan that would have meant her own kids, rather than the BadKids of BadWhites, were forced to learn their ABCs directly across the street from a housing project of color. tfw your virtue signaling is put to the test:

Samantha Bee is crushingly ugly inside and out. Her incoherent rage against Ivanka is what happens when the unpopular girl in school is given a megaphone and a like-minded loser audience to air her existential butthurt.

Another outtake from the Revolt of the Revolting: a creature by the name of Molly Jong-Fast (externally and internally disfigured sprog of ür-feminist Erica Jong) was brought to a frothing rage by…Melania Trump spending some private time out of the media spotlight.

The portmanteau that comes to mind is snobtuse.

John Rocker slipped the shiv in this bitch with real flair:

Imagine you’re Melania Trump.

Imagine you’ve been a 10 since puberty. You walk into a room and fill it with a celestial glow. You rise through every social strata, winning admirers with your beauty and elegance everywhere you go. You marry a billionaire mogul-entertainer and possibly the savior of Western Civilization. Like a protag in a catlady fantasy e-book, he fills you with his master seed and you bear him a prince. You live in a tower of pure gold.

And then this gremlin ambles up next to you…

…and offers you her pearls of wisdom.

I love America. One reason is because wealthy and influential people, cultural elites like Erica Jong, exhaust themselves. Abominations like Molly Jong-Fast come crawling like swamp creatures out of the primordial cum. This is why we have historically replaced our elites, early and often, with a steady churn of ascendant figures like Trump and Melania.

Our urban elite are fragile. Their offspring are barely holding it together with the aid of SSRIs and wine. On the rare occasion they manage to reproduce, it’s almost always some Habsburg-jawed Quasimodo-looking bundle of neuroses like the goblin above.

UMC and elite shitlibs… it’s only natural that you resent beautiful, fecund, healthy Americans. You can feel your reign coming to an end. And all you can do is impotently snarkpoast about it on Twitter as you recede back into the great unwashed.


Underneath their feigned indignation and anti-Trump (read: anti-White) hysterics is an inbred, incestuous elite living in a rapidly shrinking bubble and sensing deep in their rickets-bent bones that their mutationally overloaded, flabby freak show is about to get run through by the Sword of Shitlord Physiognomy. The Great Replacement may not turn out to be the one they were hoping for.

A reader writes,

Uncle Ted said as much in his manifesto. Leftism is less an ideology and more a psychology that stems from envy and over-socialization.

Over-socialization is an interesting concept, which I take Uncle Ted [Kaczynski] to have meant that the over-socialized are excessively sensitive to status, both signaling it and losing it. Is that in the ballpark of his thinking? Commenters are standing by to clarify.

Of all psychological motivations, I believe raw envy of their Darwinian betters explains best the compulsion of leftoids to destroy Beauty, corrupt Truth, sanctify Lies, and glorify Ugliness. Harrison Bergeron laid it out: when all are in the muck, the muck can imagine themselves the cream.

In time, the increasingly zealous guarding of opinion boundaries by the degenerate freak mafia results in accelerating expulsions of insufficiently pious devotees, until the synagogue of Lies&Ugliness is distilled to the most revolting of human dregs, producing a pungent bouquet of loserdom that will cause even politically disengaged normies to recoil in disgust and vote in a succession of president Trumps.

The Fuggernaut screeches and shrieks with a fury knowing they will fold to a superior, self-confident force. They don’t have it in them to really go toe to toe with an impassioned, ZFG foe that is never tired of winning. Trump is just the beginning of their pain and eventual banishment to the dreary emo wastelands where they belong, sad but smug till the end.

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Why does sexual dichotomy appear to be decreasing or, worse, why are men and women taking on secondary sex characteristics of the opposite sex? emmajoey leaves the following comment in reply,

People really need to go read Neoteny.org and take it in, it’s been sitting there for nearly a decade now with most of the answers.

Not primarily genetic, mostly epigenetic, the pill, delayed pregnancy, environmental factors, etc.
Bio/physiological swapping over of sexual/psychological traits, likely exacerbated by poor diets.

The later a woman gets pregnant the higher the T in uterus.
High T pregnant women produce high T girls and low T boys.
Feedback cycle increases effect in each generation.
Personalities are broadly built-in during development, not learned in later life.

I have my doubts about epigenetics as a science; (fatties like to cite it as settled science to explain their bulbosity and race deniers like to cite it to cling to hope that innate racial aptitudes and dispositions are malleable to later intervention). But I don’t doubt that historically novel environmental influences like the Pill and delayed pregnancy can fuck up the prenatal and early development ecologies, creating some equally novel freak shows like we have today shambling through the remnants of our civilization.

emmajoey’s synopsis is interesting to me because if, indeed, high T older mothers birth high T girls and low T boys, then this would establish a negatively reinforcing feedback loop with successive generations of high T manjaws and low T soyboys less and less attracted to each other and putting off for greater lengths of time marriage and children, in an infinite spiral of cat litter, infertility treatments, and gimp sperm.

I have more to say on this topic, but for now I toss out this tasty chum so readers can encircle it and tear off chunks of polemic. Bonus points to the readers who explore a consilience between bioteleology and self-domestication.

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Let’s cut to the chase: The Democrats and the Deep State, under the aegis of President Gay Mulatto and with the knowledge and assistance of the Clinton Crime Family and select GOPe traitors, authorized and administered the spying, surveillance, infiltration, and evidence planting of a political opponent’s campaign, motivated by the desire to ensure that opponent’s election loss or to delegitimize his election win.

Only in Clown World is this not a huge scandal that dwarfs Watergate.


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There is more accumulated wisdom in one day’s worth of /pol/ posts than there is in decades’ worth of Carlos Slim Times agitprop.

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