Forked Tongue, Meet Snow Job

“Heads I win, tails you lose.” Rarely are the machinations of subversion so conspicuously visible.

Suicidally Stupid Shitlibs

The streams of leftoid memes are beginning to cross. One minute, shitlibs are crowing about normal people “fearing Syrian refugees who are widows and orphans”, the next they’re calling Trump a fascist and letting the world know how scared they are of the Rise of His Excellency.

Now that Trump has opened the Overton Window wider than a cuckservative’s anus by promising to close the borders to Muslim immigration until further notice (never), the shitlib circus has rolled into town and pulled out the stops. For instance, here’s The Economist’s latest cover:

Call me crazy, but shooting innocent people in learning disability centers and concert halls falls more squarely in the realm of “playing with fear”. And what Trump proposes – keeping out the sort of people prone to playing with fear – is the exact opposite: a practical solution to reduce fearfulness.

But that’s the thing with suicidally stupid shitlibs claiming with their last breaths to love the idea of importing the third world while paying top dollar to live in gentrified neighborhoods bereft of all their totemic muddy imports: they have to abuse language and deny the meaning of words to get any moral traction with their fellow self-righteousness whores. If they spoke plainly, they wouldn’t be able to hold the positions they do without appearing utterly insane. (they are, regardless)

The shitlib insists closing the borders to groups of people whose culture and race are alien to Western Civ is a sign of fear, when the non-shitlib knows in his gut it’s common sense. It isn’t brave to stand in the path of a speeding train; it’s suicidally stupid. And it isn’t fearful to avoid unnecessary entanglements with hot-headed, ingrate foreigners; it’s prudent.

So for the typical language-mangling shitlib, “prudence” becomes “fear”, and “suicidal stupidity” becomes “nuance”, “tolerance”, or “love“.

Related: IT’S HAPPENING.

Moments Of Beta

A handsome couple – she: tall, easy on the eyes, he: older, shitlord face – walked by me and I overheard the following:

Her: “You’re always questioning what I do.”

Him: “No, I don’t do that…blah blah”

He trailed off, but I heard enough to know that this man was a paper alpha, hidden beta.

Simple little beta male tells like that say so much. He got defensive. He fell into her frame. He made excuses/apologized for his behavior, with a very predictable reactive wince.

There are so many ways this man could’ve replied that projected an aura of irresistible charisma. It’s not that hard to be the alpha male women love. All you have to do is THINK DIFFERENT. Get out of that obsequious mental space where all that matters is appeasing your woman and “making it all right”. For instance,

Her: “You’re always questioning what I do.”

Him: “YUP. Someone’s gotta run a tight ship in this relationship.”

Does the right phrasing elude you? Never mind! It’s your head space that you need a handle on. In my example, the man does NOT get defensive (if anything, he gets OFFENSIVE), he does NOT fall into the woman’s frame (he makes his own frame), and he does NOT make excuses or walk back his impertinence (he instead implies she’s to blame for her complaints).

When you have the right head space, the right words will flow like a river. As will the poosy tingles.

***

themanofmystery2 asks,

CH, how do you feel about the disdainful “are you fucking kidding me?” glance with no words followed by a conversation started with someone else? Alpha for not falling into frame and making her feel inferior to your power, or beta for letting her get away with her snippy bullshit?

You mean the man responds this way, right? (It wasn’t entirely clear.) Anyhow, this is nasty shit. I’ve seen girls do this sort of thing and it’s such a bitch move. Imo, if for use by a man, this is over the top for all but the most demanding scenarios (i.e., your dignity as a man is on the line). It also carries the whiff of butthurtness/spite/snottiness, which is why it’s more common to see women doing it. (das misogyniss!)

If a woman is snippy with you, remember the clarion call of the alpha male: amused mastery. If she’s snippy with you ALL THE TIME, then you’ve got bigger issues than a nimble tongue can solve. Such a woman was lost to love long before her current imbroglio with you.

Sweeps Week: 2015 Punchable Shitlib Face Tournament: First Round Winners

The polls for most punchable shitlib face of 2015 are closed. We have our winners who will advance to the semifinals.

In what some are calling an upset akin to Buster Douglas-Mike Tyson, Matty “Polar Bear” Yglesias edged out [insert double entendre here] Ezra “Null Entity of Nepotism” Klein in Bout 1.

Bout 2: Dylan Matthews doubled Alex Pareene’s vote total. Matthews’ mug inspires twice as many knuckle sandwiches as Pareene’s.

Bout 3: John Scalzied will be overjoyed that Pajamaboy routed him for backpfeifengesicht honors. No doubt Scalzied was dreading his preteen daughter, who can bench press more than him, impulsively clocking him right in the kisser if he had won.

Bout 4: Lindsey Graham didn’t need BACKROOM shenanigans to easily defeat Devin Faraci. (Though it looks like the two of them would’ve loved backroom play together.)

SEMIFINALS MATCH-UPS

Matty Yglesias vs Dylan Matthews

Pajamaboy vs Lindsey Graham

Geeeeeeeet ready to rumble!

Sweeps Week: 2015 Punchable Shitlib Face Tournament

Shitlibs are renowned for their watery-eyed, chipmunk-cheeked, effeminate, punchable faces. Why not set up a tournament-style bracket to find the most punchable, shitlib-iest face ever, as determined by reader vote? Why ask why?

(Actual shitlibs will not be duking it out ringside for advancement to the March Manlets Final Four, as much as we would all like to watch Ezra Klein take an uppercut to his dainty jawline, because actual shitlibs don’t know how to use their fists for anything besides fitting them up rectums.)

First, what crucially defines the archetypical shitlib face? It’s like obscenity; you know it when you see it. If you want a more specific accounting, I’d say it’s a combination of general effeminacy, neotenous underdevelopment, softness of mien, suppleness of cheeks and facial extremities, and all of it inflated with an expression of undeserved self-worth and haughty self-regard informed not by evident accomplishment but by bitter clinging to an ego-assuaging belief in intellectual superiority.

Plus, of course, there’s the self-serving hypocrisy, the phony sanctimony, and the insufferable proclivity to snark, which shitlib faces radiantly project like a bioluminescent mating signal to bluehair feminist fatties.

We begin.

Welcome, one and all, to the 2015 Punchable Shitlib Face Tournament to crown the winner of Most Punchable Shitlib Face in the bathhouse! The tournament is organized into four bouts, and winners will advance to the semi-finals.

First Match: Ezra Klein vs Matty Yglesias

Don’t let his moisturized skin and plush bee-stung lips fool you; Ezra’s got the heart of a slithery lizard, and he jives with the disingenuousness of an Inuit sophist. You want to knock those glasses right off him, and maybe relocate his horse choppers to the back of his throat. Backpfeifengesicht to the max!

Ah, Matty Yce. The “juveniles” who polar bear’ed him didn’t hit hard enough to remove the antiWhite smugness perched on his porcine mug. And there are those yenta glasses again, begging to fly off his nose in a slo-mo shattered glass arc to the ground, trailed by a few of his molars. Don’t worry, if you’re a black guy taking a potshot at him, he’ll never mention your race and write about you only once, in passing. If you’re White, he’ll spend years milking his victimization and pursuing a crusade against White male patriarchal privilege.

These two may be work butt buddies, and they may look equally punchable (give or take ten cheek-stuffed pounds), but only one can emerge victorious as the face that launched a thousand fists.

******

Second Match: Alex Pareene vs Dylan Matthews

You may wonder if all these shitlibs are brothers from the same mother. The morphology similarities are eerie, right down to the weak vision requiring old lady eyeglasses and the mischievous “I’m sitting on a buttplug” grin.

Dylan Matthews, another juicevoxer with plump BJ lips, zero muscle tone, the jawline of a lamprey, and those shitlib-defining glasses. Gaydar is pinging loudly, this guy is definitely a power bottom and keeps a diary of all the anal ailments he collects from Grindr hookups. He spends his free time building his collection of animal penises in jars.

******

Third Match: John Scalzi vs Pajamaboy

You know him as that guy who wears a dress, signals his antiWhite bona fides hard to echo chamber shitlibs, and thinks the term “dudebros” is clever. Now you can know him as the guy with a face made for absorbing blows.

Pajamaboy is an icon of the Butt Naked presidency. It’s hard to beat that low T combo of pajama, cocoa, hipster glasses, and oddly prepubertal face for sheer punchability. It’s such the complete package, he inspires you to want to punch more than just his face, and maybe bring your buddies in for a round of walloping.

******

Fourth Match: Devin Faraci vs Lindsey Graham

Remember this guy? He contributed to American greatness with a blog post titled “Sorry White People, Captain America is Black Now“. This lump is a huge shitlib. The biggest. So big, he earned his own shivving at the Chateau.

Would a punchable shitlib face list be complete without a gay cuckservative representative? (Practically, there is no difference between a shitlib and a cuckservative.) How the fuck Lindsey has managed to hold onto power for so long in South Carolina, one of the Shitlordiest states in the Union, is a mystery. No matter how much this Open Borders/Open Anus closet case lisps angrily about Donald “I. Don’t. Care.” Trump, his face will forever remain the visage of a man begging for a five-fingered sandwich… and prostate massage.

After this post, if your knuckles aren’t bleeding, you aren’t trying.

Sweeps Week: Trump Takes Chateau Heartiste Advice!

A couple of years ago, there was a post on CH explicitly calling for a closed border policy for the United States. Did Trump read it? Because just today he cranked up his inner shitlord and dropped a post-San Berdoo sanity bomb on the Shitlib Collective: A ban on all Muslim immigration into the US (until further notice, like when the cousin marriage rate in the Middle East drops below 1%).

you’re so vain
you probably think the trumpening reads you
you’re so vain
i’ll bet you think the trump has you bookmarked
don’t you don’t you…..

I’m glad that Trump and his team are taking pointers from this ‘umble retreat nestled deep in the Ardenne forests. Our knowledge and talents are available to aid your journey to the White House, Donald.

How much has the dissident-right helped Trump shift the Overton Window all the way to “induce lactating of shitlib manboobs”?

This is incredible.  After 9/11 (3000 people dead), visas are issued to the dead terrorists.

After San Bernardino (14 people dead), Trump calls for a Muslim immigration shut down.

A few fearless voices will ring out like a… trumpening… from the din of lies. Trump understands the importance of Game to world-changing politics as well as to women. Game 101: Trump is proving the way to defeat the leftoid hivemind is to go on the offense, give no quarter, and make no apology.

Also, a reader adds that Trump just made a statement that sounds like the idea was ripped straight from a recent Chateau Heartiste post.

Trump giving a speech just said re: Bernardino: “His wife radicalized him, maybe he couldn’t get women? Who knows?” Is Trump reading Heartiste? Saw this on CNN just now. Trump also said, If people in Paris/Bernardino had guns, things would have been different.

Ok, the truth is, I can neither confirm nor deny if the future 45th President of the United States Donald M to the Fer Trump is a CH reader. Our guest list is a secret guarded on threat of punishment to sit strapped in a chair listening to Jeb Bush and John Kasich natter about the true meaning of conservatism (guacamole recipes and endless streams of cheap ingrate labor).

Related: A useful rundown of what happens to a society as its Muslim population grows. Diversity™ always creates headaches and rips apart social cohesion, but Muslim Diversity™ is a special breed of vibrancy; acting like an accelerant on the process of societal disintegration in a linear relationship with the population share of Muslims.

Related, big picture-wise: “Western Civilization is in the Hands of Women… Heaven Help Us”

Maybe it has been in the hands of women for too long… but not anymore. There’s a testicular spectre emerging from the century-old swamp of equalist orthodoxy, and the women are doing what they always do when ZERO FUCKS GIVEN men take the lead: they fall in line (and swoon while doing it).

Sweeps Week: Nazi Taylor SSwift Game

It’s Sweeps Week at Le Chateau. Grab your paleo-friendly tree nuts and smugly recline at your standing entertainment center for a delirious week of the most politically incorrect, shitlib-triggering lulz!

Reader Scanman has a new non sequitur text game routine that involves Taylor Swift and Nazi memes.

Met typical blue city lawyer cunt a few weeks ago at party and got her number. She texted me out of the blue last Thurs. while I was out drinking with a buddy. Solely for my own amusement, I responded with nothing but Taylor Swift nazi memes (pictures of Taylor Swift with Hitler quotes attributed to her etc.). Nothing else. Not a single word of actual response from me, just Taylor Swift pics saying shit like “Gas the kikes, race war now. — Taylor Swift. Truly non sequitur, borderline psycho shit.

Got confusion, then a string of (faux) sanctimony. 80% I ignored, 20% I responded with nothing but more Taylor. Then silence then a “you’re so bad” 20 min later. You know you’re in when you get a “you’re terrible” or “you’re such an asshole” etc. Had sex with her two days later. Probably won’t repeat but ZFG is the closest thing a mortal man can come to actually casting spells.

In the sexual market of the manlet paying for hugs and snuggles, the inscrutable, ZFG jerkboy is king.

How do you know when a girl is grappling with strange and exciting undercurrents of desire for your badboy charms?

It all starts with the confusion,

how is this guy not like the mediocre masses of betas who buzz in the background of my princess life like whitenoise?

then comes the faux sanctimony,

“are you really sending me nazi taylor swift quotes??”

followed by the tepid expression of disapproval tinged with lustful wonder,

“you’re such an asshole” *punches shoulder*

and finally the consummation of her percolating hindbrain desire with her rationalization hamster

“i’m free all week for drinks” *scratches out tuesday date with earnest beta bux placeholder that was planned three months in advance*

Charismatic, ZFG Jerkboy Game the closest thing to casting spells over women?

You bet.

About as magical an enchantment as the vision of a 19-year-old hottie with a 20 BMI and a perfect 0.7 waist-hip ratio.