Too funny. Even funnier: There are some gems of game to be mined from this humor. A reader writes,
It’s titled “Things You Can’t Do When You’re Not a Toddler”. I say it’s Things You Do When You Don’t Give a Fuck.
I’m going to walk up to girls and announce that I sleep in a big boy bed.
The “big boy bed” line is gold, and would work if your delivery is stone-faced. Other examples of “Toddler Game” that can be modified for adult-sized game.
– Walking naked in front of a girl you just started dating. (“I need these moments of freedom.”)
– “I’m 35-and-a-half.” Good all-purpose answer to girls asking your age.
– Hiding behind a pant leg or a chair when a girl asks you a personal question.
– Swapping a girl’s glasses and examining them with focused intent.
– Throwing stuff on the ground.
CH has covered this territory before. Children are great real life naturals at game. You’ll get a better education in how to tease women by watching little boys interact with little girls. We forget these life lessons as adulthood robs us of our wonderment and carefree attitude. Chicks dig the free and easy boy inside.
A chilling academic paper titled “The Population Cycle Drives Human History — from a Eugenic Phase into a Dysgenic Phase and Eventual Collapse” landed like a soggy Sunday paper at the Chateau doorstep.
In the period before the onset of demographic transition, when fertility rates were positively associated with income levels, Malthusian pressure gave an evolutionary advantage to individuals whose characteristics were positively correlated with child quality and hence higher IQ, increasing in such a way the frequency of underlying genes in the population. As the fraction of individuals of higher quality increased, technological progress intensified. Positive feedback between technological progress and the level of education reinforced the growth process, setting the stage for an industrial revolution that facilitated an endogenous take-off from the Malthusian trap. The population density rose and with it social and political friction, especially important at the top of the social pyramid. Thus, from a certain turning point of history, the well-to-do have fewer children than the poor. Once the economic environment improves sufficiently, the evolutionary pressure weakens, and on the basis of spreading egalitarian ideology and general suffrage the quantity of people gains dominance over quality. At present, we have already reached the phase of global human capital deterioration as the necessary prerequisite for a global collapse by which the overpopulated earth will decimate a species with an average IQ, still too mediocre to understand its own evolution and steer its course.
Executive summary: Equalism is death.
Longer version: Economic success contains the seed of its own destruction. As a people become wealthier and their miseries alleviated by technology, equalism (formerly known as egalitarianism, or in its looser form as liberalism) finds fertile ground in social discourse, and welfare safety nets grow in breadth and complexity, thwarting the natural evolutionary culling process until the reproductive rewards are shared equally between the fit and unfit, and finally reaching a nadir when the economically unfit become reproductively favored at the expense of the economically fit.
Idiocracy, as I have stated, may be the most prophetic movie of any time. The earth becomes overpopulated with mediocrities and dummies as technology interferes with the natural and healthy culling process, the equalist ideology hastens the dysgenic trend, and finally the barbarians swarm over their demographically dying equalist overlords, ending the civilizational project until the cycle renews and rebirth can find purchase in the smoldering ashes.
The difference now? Nukes. All bets are off on how this iteration of doom will realize its potential. It’s possible the destruction this time around is so complete a new cycle of human transcendence will be stillborn.
What does it mean for humanity to understand its own evolution and to “steer its course”? It means knowing that bleeding hearts lead to bleeding civilizations. A few far-seeing people know the score. A great paternalistic (patriarchal, even) impulse — but one that is necessarily cruel (to be kind) — is needed to steer this darkly enlightened course to a happier outcome. I envision a CH six-point insurance program of collapse prevention:
1. Close the borders to Western nations indefinitely. (Reason is self-evident.)
2. Create voluntary incentives to reduce dysgenic fertility. (Dollars for Depo.)
3. Discourage IQ- and education-based assortative mating. (Successful men pairing off with pretty, but less educationally attained women, is eugenic. The smart, industrious genes are passed more fully around the general population.)
4. Reinvigorate protectionism. (Gutted native wages only intensifies public pressure for government largesse to a growing segment of long-term unemployed.)
5. Eliminate all female-friendly public policies. (No more Title IX, mandated day-care, freebie contraceptives, etc. The evidence is strong that publicly catering to women’s fickle pleasures incentivizes bad things like single mommery, latchkey kids, late marriage, low fertility of the higher classes, and punishment of creative iconoclasts who are the engine of progress.)
6. Reduce proximate diversity. (Social atomization encourages short term time orientation, distrust, and corruption, which lead to incompetence and decay.)
That last one may require a break-up of the US. Ironically, to save America, you must kill it first.
…don’t do these “perfect responses”. Self-deprecation and tacit acknowledgment of one’s rejection may amuse an audience of Buzzfeeding drones, but it won’t make ginas jingle.
Ironically, one of the “perfect” text responses to a wordless antagonist unintentionally reveals the seductive power of “radio silence game”.
A little digging suggests the author of this particular text is a girl. Sarcastic nuance to the contrary notwithstanding, not texting back for hours does appear to be very adorable to chicks, because there she is sending out a distress signal for her silent suitor. Interest confirmed. (When a girl loses interest, or never had interest, she’s not thinking of you hours later.) If this guy were to reply “lol” right now, she’d be ready all over again to slip into her pretty panties and dream of his objectifying gaze.
So what do you do when a girl doesn’t text you back (say, after you’ve sent out a feeler text for a meet-up)?
She will not reply. Don’t bother setting up a date. Her interest level isn’t strong enough. You’ve just saved an hour of your time and $20 for drinks.
She will reply a few hours later, or the next day. She’s on the fence and probably dating other guys. Use your discretion to decide whether to give her the chance to enjoy the pleasure of your real live company on a date. If you’re juggling a lot of girls and getting laid already, you may want to skip these wafflers.
She will reply within ten minutes. She’s into you. Take her on a date and bring a condom.
If a girl doesn’t text you back within a reasonable window of time (two days, max), don’t bother trying to reopen the lines of communication. Her interest level is zero and she’s hoping you forgot you met her.
That said, there is a case to be made for attempting something on a long shot. It’s not like texting is any serious expenditure of your time or effort. So, for example, let’s say you’ve heard nothing from a girl you texted three days ago about meeting up. A last ditch text that might bring her fold back into your fold is this favorite of mine:
“made you look”
It’s funny, it’s non-needy, and it’s low expectation. (Don’t forget insouciantly unpunctuated, your liege.) Most intransigent girls will respond to the above.
Another one I sometimes use on disappearing act girls:
“hey carrie, drinks thur at [x], 8pm”
The bite in this broadcast happens to be the fact that “carrie” is not the name of the girl I’m texting. She reads it, wonders who Carrie is, and feels compelled to respond in some manner. Her response could be positive or negative, and it doesn’t matter, because *any* response from a girl is better than no response. A talking girl you can work with; a silent girl is unreachable. She might therefore reply,
“I’m not Carrie”
…to which I would say “close?” and wait to see if she chomps on the stinky bait.
Texting has really opened up a world of experimental game possibilities because of its low barrier to entry (pun intended). Phone calls are emotionally draining for many men and require focus on multiple attractiveness cues, like vocal tone. Plus, girls are readier to ignore phone calls than they are texts, for similar reasons as men are to avoid making phone calls: There are more mate value variables of which to be cognizant in a phone call than there are in text.
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.
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?
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.
In yesterday’s post, one of the beta male of the month contenders was a guy who had lifted a hideous chubster onto his shoulders (“Do I even lift? Why, yes, I do lift!”) so that she could flash the crowd of gawkers a pair of bee stings that Manboob Emeritus David Fatrelle laughs at.
Interestingly, as a reader pointed out, there’s a hidden shiv in this photo if you look closely and direct your attention to the grinning man in the black hoodie, front and center.
“Da fuckin’ tits and bellybutton look like a face!”
Sure, a chubster publicly undulating her naked rolls will achieve “attention” from men, but not all of it, in fact not much of it, will be the sort of attention she wants. Men gawk at naked fat chicks like they gawk at car accidents, or at Kramer’s self-portrait. “She’s a loathsome offensive beast, yet I can’t look away.”
So for all the fat and ugly and manjawed lawyer attention whores who like to clit-stroke on cue about the surfeit of male attention they get, it’s helpful to keep in mind that a lot of the so-called “attention” they think they receive from men is nothing more than the furtive ridicule of happy-go-lucky rogues.
We’ve got a trifecta of beta males this month vying for #1 Beta. You sit in judgment. It’s all good, sadistic fun, but remember, one of these betas could stumble across this site, read their demolition and experience a rebirth. You might just save a life today.
BOTM Candidate #1 is Nick Viall, the runner-up on that idiot box show “The Bachelorette”. Some slut born with her legs spread slept with both him and the eventual winner of her hand in marriage. She rejected Viall, and well, he reacted… poorly.
As fans saw on the Monday, July 28, finale of The Bachelorette, Andi Dorfman chose and got engaged to former baseball player Josh Murray in the Dominican Republic, leaving runner-up Nick Viall heartbroken and confused. Viall tried multiple times after their breakup to get back in touch with the woman he thought would be his wife—and he finally got his chance to confront her during the live post-finale sit-down.
Both of the bachelors — Viall and Murray — are handsome. You can look up their pics. Why is this relevant? Because there is a stubborn contingent of ignoramuses who cling to their belief that handsome man can’t possibly be beta and repel women.
Clearly still devastated, Viall began by telling host Chris Harrison that he just wanted to have an “honest conversation” with Dorfman about what went down between them. The conversation was honest, all right—but it was also awkward, uncomfortable, and rife with tension.
There are many tells of the beta male, but few so conspicuous as the butthurt yearning to have a “conversation” with the woman who inexplicably resisted his loving, responsive beta male charms.
Viall told Dorfman he would always be grateful to her for opening his eyes and his heart to the possibility of romance. She responded, in turn, by saying that he would find love again, and that he deserved someone who would reciprocate his feelings 100 percent.
Women are so sweetly patronizing to beta males. This is why you never want to be on the receiving end of a woman’s cooing pity. She’s telling you the sound of your voice makes her vagina seal tight like a clam exposed on the beach.
“The hard part is…feeling like you did,” he said. Then, referencing the night they spent together in the Fantasy Suite, he added, “If you knew how in love with you I was, why did you make love with me?”
Beta males “make love”. Alpha males “fuck”. (Or bang.) Most men believe women want the former, or want to hear about the former, because that’s what women say they want when asked. So much ignorance. Rule Number One:
(repeat after me)
DON’T LISTEN TO WHAT WOMEN SAY, WATCH WHAT THEY DO.
His comment stunned both Dorfman and the audience, who let out a collective gasp at the remark. “That’s below the belt,” she said coolly, chiding him for revealing personal information on national TV.
Yes, women don’t want to be reminded of their sexual natures. And who can blame them? Female sexual desire, stripped of its pleasant accoutrements, is quite wild and depraved.
She then proceeded to defend herself and her actions, telling him she respected him enough to let him know before the rose ceremony that they didn’t have a future together. “I didn’t have you pick out a ring. I didn’t have you walk down there and think you were gonna propose to somebody,” she said. “I did that out of respect for you.”
More likely, she avoided unnecessary cruelty toward him because she didn’t want to risk a beta blow-up.
Playing devil’s advocate, if Viall’s mewling plea was an actorly ploy to publicize Dorfman’s sluttery, (and in the so doing reveal a side of women that is largely hidden from viewer masses), it was brilliant. I think the odds of that are very low, so I included him in this month’s BOTM.
He then sent Viall backstage before reuniting the Bachelorette with her newly minted fiance.
Things were much more lighthearted after that.
The magic of that alpha male attitude!
Dorfman and Murray openly cuddled on the couch, giggling together and kissing between questions. “We’re in love!” she gushed when Harrison pointed out that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
I guess he’s OK with this television-cum-real life whore fucking another man at the same time he was courting her?
Her groom-to-be even joked that he was trying to get her pregnant.
Gotta hurry and push that tepid beta male seed outta the way.
Moral of the shiv: If you think you’ve completely won over a slutty woman’s heart by “making love” to her once, you might be a beta male.
******
BOTM Candidate #2 is a Reddit cuckold whose mysteriously low libido asexual girlfriend went on vacation without him, and…. (I bet the suspense is killing you)
My GF and i have been dating for 5 months now. This lady and i have have never had intercourse.
Around a month or so ago she went on vacation with a close friend of hers and her friends family. They come back, everything seems hunky dory. Fast forward to yesterday. She informs me that one night on vacation she was black out drunk after a long day of heavy drinking on the beach, wakes up in her hotel later that night and her friend tells her that she went off with a pair of guys.
Why did his girlfriend so readily confess her party slut sins to him? One, she has so little respect or desire for his manhood that she neither fears his retribution nor cares for his psychic pain. Two, the “blackout drunk” plot device is a helpful bit of plausible deniability meant to keep a hopeful, irrepressibly loyal beta male strung along for further provision and emotional support extraction. Yeah, she may have been drunk, but who chose to pour drinks down her throat? Vlad Putin?
Now her friend assumed she had sex, my GF is in denial (being blacked out).
“I’m a beta male and I believe her 100%!”
She thought nothing of it. Turns out she is pregnant.
Her slutcation fling didn’t have to wait five months. Don’t expect a beta male to ponder the discrepancy. That would ruin the shine on his whore’s pedestal.
Shes absolutely scared to death, shaking, sobbing, apologizing profusely saying “you don’t deserve this, you deserve better”.
She’s scared her faithful lapdog “boyfriend” will abandon her and not foot her abortion bill… or the 18-year-blood-from-a-beta bill.
I’ve never thought she is the type to go out and have a random hook up especially being that at that point we decided to be exclusive.
How do you decide to be exclusive to a girl you haven’t fucked once in the five months you’ve known her? “Hey babe, from this point onward you can’t cocktease any other men besides me.”
Her family, with whom she is very close to, being very religious and conservative, lose shit on her because she is seriously considering an abortion.
I hope her pro-life parents are prepared for the possibility of a… vibrant… gift from God.
I ask if she honestly wants to be with me to which she replies yes, most definitely.
Subtext: “Who else will stick around to wipe the shit off my bastard child’s bottom and suffer in silence as I get my cunt scoured by more exciting men?”
I feel the same way. i propose that we can work through this and that no matter what she decides i will back her 100%.
This is what a man with limited options, or a perception of limited options, sounds like.
We speak awhile and leave on okay terms. She decides to stay with her friend for awhile.
“Aww, he’s so sweet”: Heard about fifty times at her friend’s place.
my reaction. I’m stunned.
It’s time to stop being stunned. Come visit Le Chateau. Leave an informed consumer.
I know that shes a good girl, not the most responsible person ever but has a good heart
“has a good heart”?! She got hammered, hammered, and wants to hammer this tool into cuckold submission. Fuckin a, does a girl have to leave a body in the basement before her beta sycophant will question her virtue?
and never wants to hurt anyone. At the same time i cant help but to think about all the possibilities of what happened on that vacation. Was she raped? Drugged? Did she want a hook up?
No, no, yes. Answers that he’ll tell himself to quiet the inner rage: Yes, yes, no.
My personal opinion is that abortion is the best option, i haven’t told her that in fear of swaying her decision one way or the other but i feel like her family will guilt her into keeping the child. i really don’t know what to do at this point. Did i do the right thing? Any opinion or advice would be greatly appreciated.
Just think, in the not-too-distant sexual market of the past when contraceptive cop-outs were rare and beta males were tougher men than they are now, this princess would have had to think twice before happily stumbling onto a vacation cock carousel.
tl;dr: GF of five months goes on vaca, has sex, tells me yesterday she is pregnant and considering abortion. Please help! Need advice!
Thank your savior for small blessings: You aren’t married to the manipulative bitch. Toss her a razor blade, suggest she slice lengthwise, and leave her for good. You won’t do this, but if you did you’d be a better man instantly. And it would change the sad trajectory of your pathetic life forever.
******
BOTM Candidate #3 is this responsive boyfriend:
There’s more wrong with this picture than what immediately arrests the eye. Yes, she’s a grotesque tub of lard, and beta males are often reduced to settling for these swine pieces to get any action. More revealingly, this fupa queen shits all over her boyfriend’s (or beta orbiter’s?) honor by making a spectacle of herself to the jeers of gawkers.
Judging by the hats, this shot was taken in America.
American woman, lay your gut on me. American woman, mama jump on me. Beta dog gonna lift you up So all the men see your wee A cups.
