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Perspicacious and numerate commenter “St” writes in response to this post about Shakespeare having his male characters utter fewer words than their romantic female counterparts,

CH,

I hope you realize that 101/155 = 65.1%

Which is disturbingly close (1.6%) to the 2/3 male-to-female text communication ratio you advise.

If that’s not another exogenous vindication of Chateau principles, I don’t know what is.

“St” is referring to CH’s Poon Commandment V:

V. Adhere to the golden ratio

Give your woman 2/3 of everything she gives you. For every three calls or texts, give her two back. Three declarations of love earn two in return. Three gifts; two nights out. Give her two displays of affection and stop until she has answered with three more. When she speaks, you reply with fewer words. When she emotes, you emote less. The idea behind the golden ratio is twofold — it establishes your greater value by making her chase you, and it demonstrates that you have the self-restraint to avoid getting swept up in her personal dramas. Refraining from reciprocating everything she does for you in equal measure instills in her the proper attitude of belief in your higher status. In her deepest loins it is what she truly wants.

It appears that CH, knowingly or unwittingly ;), stumbled upon a deep and abiding truth about sex, love and the erotic nature of women that was known to the literary greats of the distant past.

Heartiste and Shakespeare… truly, madly, deeply in ❤️!

You’ve ever inconspicuously texted under the table or called from the bathroom another girl while you were on a date.

You’ve ever snuck out on a date going badly.

You’ve ever bailed on a date because you met a hotter girl in the interim.

You’ve ever walked into a first date’s apartment, made a bee-line for her bathroom, pissed on the seat, farted loudly, exited, and strolled up to her to plant a passionate kiss.

You’ve ever held two simultaneous relationships, one for “appearances”.

Your women get carried away and relent to raw dog in the heat of the moment.

You’ve ever brazenly lied to a woman to cover up an infidelity. And didn’t feel bad about it.

You’ve ever banged a woman while another woman’s life force was still adhered to your dick.

You’ve ever said “Are you fucking kidding me?” to an attractive woman.

You’ve ever banged a woman in public, within view of families.

You’ve ever legitimately forgotten about a woman you started dating. Super alpha bonus points if you met her on the street and had to stare blankly for five seconds before recollecting.

You’ve ever forgotten a woman’s name up through the third date. And didn’t bother apologizing for it.

You’ve ever steadily pressed for sex beyond three half-hearted “No”s, and achieved your goal.

You’ve ever replied more than an hour later after a girl texted, and it wasn’t a calculated maneuver. You genuinely didn’t feel like putting in the effort.

Girls cum with you in every sex position.

You’re not the one who’s nervous.

You’ve rarely had to wait past the third date for sex.

You’ve ever flirted with girls when every social expectation at the time was that you shouldn’t.

You’ve ever taken a call from a girl while another girl was sleeping naked against your bare chest.

You’ve ever walked away from a long-term relationship out of boredom.

You’ve ever had to deal with a pregnancy scare.

A girl has ever cried for you.

You’ve dumped more often than you’ve been dumped, and when the latter happened you rarely had a dry spell longer than a month.

You’ve ever scheduled two dates for the same night. Super alpha bonus points if both dates ended in bangs. Super alpha doubleplusalpha bonus points if both dates ended in bangs together.

You’ve ever banged a girl on the first date without either of you using the disinhibition elixir of alcohol.

You’ve ever dated a girl who was persuaded to, temporarily at least, acquiesce to your insistence on a one-way sexually open relationship.

You’ve ever acquired an honest-to-god stalker. (This may be indisputable proof of alphaness.)

You’ve had girls approach you and solicit you for a drink, or even sex.

You’ve ever taken a girl home without needing an excuse to coax her compliance.

You’ve ever had a girl call you an asshole not long before she succumbed to intimacy.

You’ve ever had a girl spend more on you than you on her before she offered her sex.

You’ve ever been eagerly paraded in the presence of your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend.

You’ve ever had a girlfriend accuse you of cheating, even when you weren’t.

You’ve ever truly, madly, deeply loved two girls at the same time. And they loved you back.

1. Girls love selfish badboys.

2. Nonconsensual erotic rape fantasies are more common among women than previously thought.

3. Girls love dominant men who take what they want.

4. Girls hate men who do as they’re told.

5. Girls hate sensitive, emotionally available men.

6. Girls love men who take charge.

7. Girls love it when men touch them without asking.

8. Girls love men with “appetitive-aggressive” tendencies.

Women of all (pre-menopausal) ages and all social strata are fascinated by mental parlor tricks. They enjoy the self-revelatory aspect of psychological quizzes, and especially those versions which summon the senses and amplify the feels. Once a girl is emotionally charged, it’s a simple matter to anchor her good feelings to your company.

Today, I will reveal a very special game routine that as far as I am aware exists nowhere else in the game literature. It is a proprietary and leather patented CH blend of neural witch-craftery that engages girls so powerfully they won’t want you to stop. This routine — what I call the Imagination Test — is ideal during that getting-to-know-each-other phase of the pickup, (or what PUAs call the comfort stage). You could try to use it at any time during a pickup, though; the routine is designed to work within a broad array of contexts.

The premise is uncomplicated. Like an acting class instructor, you guide the girl through various sensual exercises simulating brief scenarios or actions that you choose at your discretion. For example,

“Imagine you’re holding an ice cream cone and the scoop falls out to the ground. Feel your face change as your disappointment rises.”

Or,

“Imagine it’s midnight and you hear a loud knock at the door. All the lights are out and you have no idea who it could be.”

The gist of this routine is to heighten the emotions that a girl feels in your presence. The mere evocation of sensual stimuli will produce authentic elevations in her emotional calibration, much the same way that adopting power poses will produce real elevations in a man’s testosterone level and feeling of confidence. Couple the mimetic onslaught with a shrewdly anchored hand to thigh or forearm and when she recollects her dreamy night feeling the fuzz of an imaginary peach you concocted from thin air, her mind will travel a short hop from fruit to you, farmer of emotions.

By getting a girl to essentially play-act imaginary stimuli recruiting one or all the senses, her mind opens to further exploration with you and she becomes quite a bit more pliable to your commands, (a pliability to which she secretly yearns to release herself). The Imagination Test is, besides a stimulant for bored girls’ wary ennui, a demonstration of your creativity and originality. Rest assured, there are few men riding these kinds of thought trains through the stony skulltunnels of girls just met. Women are always looking for men set apart; this routine is one way to accomplish that.

The hard part is not the routine itself, but the sophisticated segue you must have to open an unweird social space for the routine. A couple of springboards I use that work well:

“Are you interested in learning a little bit about yourself?”

Or

“Many girls can get by on their looks, but not many can get by on their imaginations. How good is your imagination?”

Neither segue is failsafe verbillade, but they’ll get the job done often enough.

Further examples of the Imagination Test:

Imagine yourself…

stroking a puppy’s belly.
searching through a dark attic with a flickering flashlight.
holding a pigeon to your chest.
seeing a loved one for the first time in a long time.
overhearing your parents having sex.
catching a whiff of a man’s cologne.
smelling freshly mown grass.
tasting something you hate.
feeling an ice cube on your neck (or breast, if mood permits).
massaging a lover’s face.
letting rose petals slip through your fingers.
wrapped in a sheer satin curtain.
breaking warm bread fresh out of the oven.
gently tracing the face of your grandmother.
rolling your fingertips over a strong back (substitute female body part if you think she’d be down for the FFM).
biting into a juicy sweet melon.
revealing yourself naked for the first time to someone you love.

After your hypnotized hussy has gamely visualized and phantom experienced your sensate novellas, the opportunity is rich for a well-placed neg or a grudging acceptance of her imaginative, if unexpected, spark. Too, there is the chance to reveal to her (fib, really) what her mien during the exercises says about her personality (feel free to wing it here). As long as it’s about her and her centrality to the cosmos, she’ll feel that ever-present but slyly nebulous “connection” that women so love and that men strive to fabricate for slits and tingles.

Your post-thespian responses can run the gamut:

“When you tasted the food you hated, your mouth made this funny snarl, like a dog trying to lick away peanut butter.”

“When you smelled the grass, you had this incredibly serene look. What was it that made you so contented?”

“You put your hands behind your back when you imagined being naked. This small movement tells me you want no obstacles between yourself and a lover.”

***

Seduction comes in three stages for a reason: it’s the rediscovery of a natural mating rhythm that has likely remained unchanged for eons beyond memory. Now you, reader, imagine a woman’s heart as a pot of water on the stove. You tease her and challenge her to turn on her burner. You draw her in with words festooned in emotional garland to warm her lifeblood. You raise her temperature with feints toward the gas jet until she is boiling over. Tease, engage, escalate.

TEASE. ENGAGE. ESCALATE.

Maxim #20: First, lead by defying. Then, lead by inspiring. Finally, lead by desiring.

All steps, however abbreviated, must come in their order to inflame her curiosity, just as your eyes must travel the expanse of her body and the inflection points of her face, and your ears receive the chirp of her voice, to form the full measure of your lust.

Via The League of Extraordinary Sadists comes another study concluding that diversity is incompatible with a sense of community.

Community psychologists are interested in creating contexts that promote both respect for diversity and sense of community. However, recent theoretical and empirical work has uncovered a community-diversity dialectic wherein the contextual conditions that foster respect for diversity run in opposition to those that foster sense of community. More specifically, within neighborhoods, residential integration provides opportunities for intergroup contact that are necessary to promote respect for diversity but may prevent the formation of dense interpersonal networks that are necessary to promote sense of community. Using agent-based modeling to simulate neighborhoods and neighborhood social network formation, we explore whether the community-diversity dialectic emerges from two principle of relationship formation: homophily and proximity. The model suggests that when people form relationships with similar and nearby others, the contexts that offer opportunities to develop a respect for diversity are different from the contexts that foster a sense of community. Based on these results, we conclude with a discussion of whether it is possible to create neighborhoods that simultaneously foster respect for diversity and sense of community. (spoiler: it isn’t)

IQ fetishists who want to bring boatloads of Asian to America are almost as silly as pathological altruists who want to import Africa to Minnesota. I say almost because, yeah, at least with the Asians you don’t have to worry about getting jacked while walking down the street. You just have to worry about your finances, bureaucracy and cultural institutions getting jacked.

So here’s another study affirming what Robert Putnam (Bowling Alone) found in his reluctantly published study about diversity decreasing levels of social trust. Studies are nice and all, but you don’t need multiple degrees and strict adherence to experimental procedure to walk out the door and notice how different the races of people are, and how everyone, even and especially hypocrite SWPLs, have a natural affinity for their own kind.

Maybe the leftoid lie machine is permitting these studies to be released now because they sense where the logic of their stinking ideology is heading:

Is this actually a breakthrough of any kind, or is it exactly the sort of thing elites will appreciate? The lower and middle classes have been well and thoroughly diversified now. The logic of diversity is pretty clear: the rich white/jewish gated communities should be diversified as well. But before anyone gets around to noticing this, there’s scientific reason to forestall such efforts. Sorry about that, goy, but the arguments we used to obliterate *your* communities don’t work anymore. It’s unfortunate, yes, but there will be tradeoffs. You know how it is.

Does anyone doubt for a second that the richest communities will ensure that tradeoffs in *their* cases go in the opposite direction from “diversity”? These studies aren’t challenging shitlibs at all. They aren’t even advances in our understanding (as PMAN points out, how hard is it to realize these things could be opposed). Instead, it’s just toadying to an elite that refuses to suffer the consequences of its own decisions.

Like Robert Ringer wrote, always look out for #1. And the elite are nothing if not practiced in the art of looking out for themselves.

Sadly, the burdensome diversity is already cooked in the books. CH predicts that within the century America will break up into regional entities, along broad racial and ethnic lines.

Cheap Chalupas would weep if he weren’t an android.

Romeo Had Game

A dataslut at FiveThirtyEight tallied the lines each pair of characters spoke to each other and found that Romeo was following Poon Commandment V.

Juliet speaks 155 lines to him, and he speaks only 101 to her. His reticence toward Juliet is particularly inexcusable when you consider that Romeo spends more time talking than anyone else in the play.

And yet these two are the most famous star-crossed lovers in literature. Romeo knew, or more precisely Shakespeare knew, that women — and female readers — love a man who doesn’t give away the store.

In general, Shakespeare’s female lovers lavish a larger share of their lines on their men than the men do on them. This is true not just of “Romeo and Juliet,” but of “Macbeth,” “The Taming of the Shrew” and all four couples in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” The only real exceptions, tellingly, occur in the plays where the women pose as men: “Twelfth Night” and “The Merchant of Venice.” (Antony and Cleopatra spend roughly equal shares of lines on each other.)

😆 There’s more egalitarian relationship communication when the women pose as men. Says it all, really. But you feminists keep telling manboobs to emote like girls; that’ll really make them more attractive to women.

Forget modern culture in its totality. Everything important you need to know about men and women you can find in the works of Shakespeare.

The recently outed Duke porn whore Belle Knox (real name MIRIAM WEEKS) was interviewed by an intrepid CH reporter.

You can watch the interview here.

Ok, so she’s not much for words. Her mouth is busy doing other stuff. And yes, she really is a women’s studies major. Like millions of other women with useless degrees and six digit student loan debt, she had no choice but to turn to facial abuse porn to survive.

At least one member of her immediate family will self-deliver before the year is out, count on it.

ps MIRIAM WEEKS. She wants the publicity, she and her family will get the publicity, good and hard. I’m sure she can accommodate.

pps This story is less about MIRIAM WEEKS than it is about our leftoid, pozzed media who love to jam stories like these down everyone’s throat. I dunno, but I imagine in halcyon days of American yore a stone bold slut like MIRIAM WEEKS would be shunned by everyone, including the media, to live out her diseased days alone and isolated from normal human contact. She might not be a changed person, but the culture that enveloped her would be different. And what worse fate for the BPD attention whoring sociopathic slut than being utterly ignored?

pps I love that porn whores and obese monstrosities are the only real allies feminists have left.

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