Comment Of The Week: My Freaking Awesome Beta Male Husband

Ever notice how emphatically the few married feminists proclaim the awesomeness of the males who settled for their post-slut carcasses as if this was some sort of evidence proof of the superiority of the cock-hopping, mimosa-fueled lifestyle? COTW winner Paul Murray, replying to another commenter, explains the pathological narcissism that shapes the scarred psychologies of manjawed feminists,

There’s a recurrent use of “my wondeful husband” in Salon and other femcunt territories.

They never say “my SEXY wonderful husband”.

They don’t see people in their lives as full human beings. They see them as a role being played in their lives. The actor is replaceable – it’s the role that matters. The only non-replaceable actor is herself, the star of the show.

Married feminists of course will never admit that the scalzified losers who settled for them aren’t sexy, exciting men who make them swoon with love. To admit that would be to surrender everything they’ve invested in their egos.

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Better to be thought an alpha male than to speak loquaciously and remove all doubt. COTW runner-up winner Rick Derris ponders what an Obama/Putin fireside chat would sound like,

No doubt [terse game] can apply to international relations as well.

I am sure Barry talked for 89 of the 90 minutes during the phone call he had with Vladimir “Nyet” Putin this weekend.

Barry hears that a lot from Michelle, too.

The Low Fertility Of Urban Liberals Is A Feature Not A Bug

There is much hand-wringing by the hypocrati over the below-replacement fertility rates of overeducated, urban leftoid, credentialist suck-up, status whoring SWPLs. However will civilization carry on if our progressive snarkmeisters disappear down the sinkhole of Darwinian finality?

Well, I’m here to tell you that Western civilization will carry on quite well, and certainly better than it has the past 60 years. For evidence of the source of my sureness, review this quote by Thomas Aquinas on the Catholic Church’s prohibition of cousin marriage aka inbreeding:

Afterwards, however, towards these latter times the prohibition [against cousin marriage] of the Church has been restricted to the fourth degree, because it became useless and dangerous to extend the prohibition to more remote degrees of consanguinity. Useless, because charity waxed cold in many hearts so that they had scarcely a greater bond of friendship with their more remote kindred than with strangers: and it was dangerous because through the prevalence of concupiscence and neglect men took no account of so numerous a kindred, and thus the prohibition of the more remote degrees became for many a snare leading to damnation.

Aquinas was a man who rightly perceived the dangers inherent in both too little and too much outbreeding. (Were we blessed with such wise men today!) Inbreeding encourages clan-based violence and decreases social trust, two consequences that are anathema to the development of modern civ. But too much outbreeding (EatPrayBang!) decreases charitable kin-feeling and incentivizes a decadent ennui that severs the citizen’s sense of obligation to his nation and co-ethnics.

Where is this thought leading? The native stock of the West is clearly suffering from a mental sickness caused by too much outbreeding. Universalism is the religion of liberal whites, and they cleave so strongly to this secular religion that they are happy, nay overjoyed!, to throw the borders open and bequeath their hard-won territory and culture to battalions of Third Worlders and other temperamentally distant aliens, who of course given large enough numbers will promptly, whether wittingly or consequentially, execute its destruction.

The liberal SWPLs’ universalist instinct is so deeply embedded that it’s become a danger to their own reproductive fitness. If it were just themselves they were (unproductively) screwing, that would be fine; unfortunately they’re screwing everyone who has to live under their administrative tyranny.

So it is with great sadistic glee that I put two and two together and conclude that the passing of the sweep of SWPL liberals into the prolapsed hole of history will prove, ultimately, a good thing for the reconstitution and continuation of Western civilization, and in particular of America. Whether through the act of some subconscious calculation, or environmental disincentive, or perhaps via a divinely directed cosmic rebalancing working magic on the impervious hindbrains of self-destructive fools, the children of universalist leftoids are fewer by the hour, and their complete demise closer by the day.

We should be welcoming this fitness adjustment for the ray of hope it delivers. Prosperity can turn on accidental fortune. Runaway universalism, it would appear, contains the seed of its doom, and in its death there will be rebirth. The gods of the copybook headings will have their laugh at last.

So pass out the condoms, fire up the abortion mills, parade the sluts, stream the cuck porn, shove those freebie Pills down the throats of SWPL princesses, and bask in your righteousness, knowing that your tribute in distasteful utilitarianism will pay handsome rewards to your posterity.

Truly, the SWPL is the cuckold of the world. Pronounce it “swipple”. Let it snap off the lips with pleasing hatefulness. It stands for “white person who gets a leetle chill down his neck when a black doctor is on the TV”. Remind the SWPL in your company that there is no moral obligation to uplift the world’s wretched refuse. If they balk, remind them again of their atheism.

SWPL is the cuckold of the world
Yes he is…think about it
SWPL is the cuckold of the world
Think about it…do something about it

We make him sit in the corner and watch
If he won’t be a cuck
we say that he’s a bigot

If he’s real, we say he’s
trying to be a racist
While pulling his pud he
pretends that he is above us

SWPL is the cuckold of the world…yes he is
If you don’t belive me take a
look to the one you’re with
SWPL is the slave of
the slaves
Ah yeah…better screem
about it
We make him pay and raise
our children
And then we leave him flat for
being a cuckold beta male
We tell him home is only a
fantasy
Then we complain that he’s
too pale-skinned to be a man

SWPL is the cuckold of the world…yes he is
If you don’t belive me take a
look at the manboob filth
SWPL is the slave of
the slaves
Yeah (think about it)

We insult him everyday on TV
And wonder why he has no
guts or confidence
When he’s young we kill his
will to be free
While telling him there’s no such thing as smarts
we put him down for being so dumb

SWPL is the cuckold of the world…yes he is
If you don’t belive me take a
look at John Scalzi’s tits
SWPL is the slave of
the slaves
Yes he is…if you belive me,
you better screem about it.

Repeat:
We make him pull his
pud and prance
We make him trash his
seed for laughs
We make him axe his
balls as penance
We make him rend his
soul in half

Guess The Sex

Read this OkCupid profile and try to guess the sex of the person who wrote it.

Don’t read further until you’ve made your guess.

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Still guessing?

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These are your American women. Delightfully feminine bunch, ain’t they? This profile, minus a few giveaways, could easily pass for the braggadocio of a fraternity brother.

And brow-furrowed femcunts wonder why men won’t “man up” and marry these drunk slatterns.

The blocked out part was a brag about her blowjob technique. Translation: She’s a fat sow who has to advertise her sexual depravity to get any attention from the losers she likely hooks up with once in a fat moon.

Grotesqueries like this beast exist. The revelation for a lot of people would be the kind of “lovers” she manages to score. I bet a lot of proud feminists claiming satisfying love lives would abandon the opinionator sphere if pictures of their “””boyfriends”””” and unbiased third-party accounts of the charming personalities of the men who lap the smegma of their moldy feminist snappers were to become public knowledge.

A Crib Sheet Of Game

Normally, CH is averse to feeding the conventional misinterpretation of game as robotically intoned one-liners, but short and sweet one-liners do serve a purpose beyond their use as saving throws in high pressure situations. Keeping at one’s mental disposal a crib sheet of snappy lines for retrieval during the typical scenarios one would meet and seduce girls benefits in two ways:

1. Test-driven lines really can get you out of a jam or closer to victory.

2. More importantly, mentally rehearsed and memorized “charisma cues” are conditioning stimuli that habituate one to think and feel more like a natural who is at ease in the company of beautiful women.

Number 2 is crucial. A repository of game-approved lines, called upon at will, grooms your attitude to align more closely with that of successful womanizers. As you say these lines to yourself, and as you deploy them in a growing number of social situations, your overall attitude — your “inner game” — begins to take on the characteristics of a man who is naturally good with women. You begin to visualize yourself as an alluringly savvy man self-assuredly parrying the clit-hardened jousts of intrigued women. You are recreating it till you make it, and recreation is greatly aided by having knowledge of the sorts of things that naturals often say to women when they’re just winging it.

Maxim #43: You rely on “pickup” lines to eventually discard reliance on pickup lines.

So the pickup aka courtship line is less about the particular arrangement of its individual words to influence female receptiveness than it is about how, over time, it rearranges your mental self-conception.

Related, a reader writes,

This is a question I’m sure many readers would like to know. I find myself having beta tendencies. I sometimes find myself in shit tests and girls testing my alphaness in person and via text. To keep my attitude and mind right I continue to refer to the 16 Commandments and the Maxims, which I’ve found a portion compiled online. Obviously for shit tests I agree and amplify, act aloof etc.  But is there something like a complete list to reference? Something like the commandments plus the maxims, plus any other info in a list form? For quick reference?

Any suggestions on how to kick your mind back out of beta trap? Love the site and will donate £50 if this list is compliled.

What do you do to keep on track? How do you consistently keep the right mindset? Without slipping.

I work between London and Milan, so that’s why I’ll donate in GBP. It’s roughly $84.

I’m not entirely sure what this reader is getting at, but his letter does provide inspiration for a “crib sheet” of game. This post started with a lesson in one-liners, and for good reason. Kicking your mind out of “beta traps” is easier when you know how alphas actually talk to women. The first step to trying something new and unaccustomed in real life is to try it out in your head. Ask any man of high achievement his program for success and he’ll tell you he imagined where he would be long before he got there. Little boys don’t wait till forty to dream of being astronauts.

So, in the spirit of the reader’s request, what follows is the CH Crib Sheet of Game you can either write on a notecard and keep in your wallet, or just store in your head for instant access. The Commandments and Maxims are great, but a bit lengthy for practical retrieval, so the crib sheet will mostly focus on digestible concepts and one-liners.

The one-liners obviously apply to different situations, but the goal here isn’t to identify an exact match between line and application. Rather, the goal of the lines is to change your state of mind. The simple act of repeating them to yourself, and having them available should you need them, will imbue you with a sense of what it feels like to be a seductive man. This sense will carry over into real improvements in your masculine attractiveness.

This is by no means a complete list. The CH archives are now so huge and unwieldy that trawling it all for every gem is a time-suck too great for even a team of expert data miners. Therefore, as a general aid to the CH audience and as a specific answer to the reader above, all commenters are welcome to add entries to the Crib Sheet of Game, which will be updated on a regular basis and reposted from time to time, perhaps with its own reference page.

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CRIB SHEET OF GAME

CONCEPTS

Agree & amplify
Disqualification, yours and hers
Social proof/preselection
Push/pull
Hot/cold
Teasing
Play practical jokes
Amused mastery
Sexual Intent
Kino/Physical escalation (ABE: Always Be Escalating)
State control (composure)
Storytelling
Future pacing (sarcastic or sincere)
Assume the sale
Plausibly inadvertent self-promotion
Listening
Calculated vulnerability (faux beta game)
Be chased, don’t chase
Descriptive, emotive language
Reframing
Backhanded compliments (negs)
Don’t seek approval
Three second rule
Master the art of curious absences
Never apologize to yourself or anyone for your desires as a man
Own your bone
Be critical
Flip the script
Better an asshole than a beta

BODY LANGUAGE

Power poses
Slow movements
Eye contact
Minimal smiling
Contrapposto
Impatient outward glances
No hands in pockets
Open legs
Straight back
Hold your drink low
No fidgeting
Low vocal tone
Slow speech/accentuate every word
Don’t laugh at own jokes
Take up space
Approach after first mutual look
Avoid nervous tics/self-grooming
Pregnant pauses
Look straight or up, never down
Center yourself around your crotch
A little bit of swagger never hurts

LINES

gay
…
lol
k
8===D
wut
right
good job!
bring da movies

it’s complicated
thanks for the medical report
who brought their little sister?
nice shoes. those are really popular now
it’s a good thing we’re friends
is she always like this?
i don’t buy girls drinks but you can buy me one
your flirting needs work
don’t get the wrong idea
slow down, i need to be wined and dined first
you and i would never work out
what else do you have going for you besides your looks?
i’m just looking for that one woman i click with
your parents must be proud
wait… you’re not a lesbian?
are you allowed to talk to other men without his permission?
speaking from experience?
i didn’t know this was a job interview
where’s the fun in that?
you’re not a dull person, are you? good, let’s go!
weirdo
don’t get used to it
don’t get clingy
miss me already?
that’s mr. asshole to you
my heart will go on
someone’s in love
hey, hands off the merchandise
this whole thing?… it’s not working
i bet you wrote the book on it
i bet you say that to all the guys
you’re special
let’s stop by my place real quick. but don’t sit down, we’re not staying
if i didn’t know any better i’d say you were trying to pick me up

MISC

Progressive resistance weight training
Fitted clothes
Get out in the sun
Curb your porn habit
Find the fashion sweet spot between trendy and splashy
Don’t eat agribusiness crap
Be irreverent
Minimize your online presence beside that needed to pick up American attention whores
Think like a free man
Strive to do what is personally advantageous
Never forget Father Time is breathing down your neck.

Aging Feminist Tells Women To Ride The Cock Carousel

Vapid Feminist-Entity, an aging shrike just a few short years from a terminal date with the Wall, is telling younger women to sleep around with sexy badboys and then settle down in their 30s with a boring beta male for financial security. Glad to see even the head-in-sand feminists getting on board with the Heartistian view of the modern sexual market.

VFE sarcastically (or sincerely, who can tell with this cheat code ironic posturing that femcunts employ whenever they have to contemplate the horror of reality) lays out her vision of the good life,

I did everything the Susan Pattons of the world said not to do and I ended up marrying a freaking wonderful man — not despite disobeying these [anti-feminist slut] retro rules, but because of it.

What’s her husband’s SMV? Yeah, dead-eyed feminists with cock-scarred holes can theoretically find a man to settle for them, but the way to bet is that these men are losers with few other options.

True story, I recently went to the optometrist and she told me, “Your eyes aren’t young anymore,”

Neither is anything else about her. True story.

Work your butt off. First in college, then in the work world. Become the man you want to marry — or rather, the woman the man you want to marry will want to marry.

Because you know how men get hard for workaholics. Yes, become the man you want to marry, and the only men who’ll marry you are closet homosexuals.

The microwave is all the lover you need for now. Swing by Walgreens after a long day at the office and pick up a Stouffer’s frozen lasagna. […] This is how you learn to be alone, which you need to do before learning to be together. Sorry, them’s the rules.

Feminists have a lot of practice learning to be alone.

You know that drug dealer who keeps money in his freezer and doesn’t know where to put apostrophes? Date him. Same with the guy who literally has “I’m a mistake” tattooed on his arm. They are terrifically wrong for you, but they are truly lovely people who will enrich your life. (If they are not truly lovely people, get the hell out of there. Only poor choices with hearts of gold are worth your mistakes.) It’s only from dating these self-styled bad boys that you will realize the folly of making yourself interesting through men. You get to be the protagonist of your own god-damn novel.

I think we’re gonna need the Hamster-to-English Translator:

Hamster: “but they are truly lovely people who will enrich your life”

Jerks make me come hard.

Hamster: “If they are not truly lovely people, get the hell out of there.”

I need to tell you to avoid very bad men because it won’t come naturally to you as a woman.

Hamster: “Only poor choices with hearts of gold are worth your mistakes.”

A man with a heart of gold is a poor choice.

Hamster: “self-styled bad boys”

I miss my ex-badboy lovers so much.

Hamster: “realize the folly of making yourself interesting through men.”

I have fucked so many men who never bothered to learn my name that I’ve forgotten what it means to love.

Hamster: “You get to be the protagonist of your own god-damn novel.”

Everybody Gets Genital Warts.

Fake so many orgasms. Look, sex in your twenties is going to be horrible.

Spoken like a woman who spent her 20s sucking random cock in public restrooms.

For a long time you won’t even realize that sex can be more.

And this is why you should follow in her footsteps.

You will take pleasure in giving pleasure.

Because when you’re an aged hag with zero personality like her you’re gonna have to learn to give a lot of pleasure just to keep men around for longer than an hour at the bus depot.

It is all the intimacy that you can take, for now. Despite the faking, these are some of the realest, rawest moments of your young life; two unformed people pressing their naked egos against each other.

The feminist knows her ego is her most cherished possession.

It’s not like you’ll have learned all the sex things by the time you get married, either. That’s when the learning can really begin. It won’t be long before you feel like you need an entirely new word for sex.

Yes, you’ll need an encyclopedic knowledge of molecular biology to figure out where his penis goes.

Start joking about your shriveling ovaries once you turn 26.

Soon enough, it won’t be a joke anymore.

Throw pity-parties with friends. You’re all single, bitter and hardened to the disappointing world of romance. Get together to drink cocktails, watch “The Notebook” and bitch about men who don’t call. You will go to bed at night alone, but this friendship stuff is great!

Misery loves company.

Mr. Good Enough is not good enough. That guy who seems almost perfect but still doesn’t feel right? Trust yourself, dump him and then wallow in sorrow. Call him and leave drunken voicemails about how much you miss him, when the truth is that you’re just afraid to be alone. Constantly remind your friends that you’re a woman who “wanted too much.” When books like “Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough” come out, snark it up online. Privately, weep. Later, you will feel sure that you dodged a bullet and thank yourself for being brave.

She does claim to speak from experience.

Facebook-marry a friend. You’re both approaching 30, you both feel like you’re going to be alone forever, so announce yourself as married, to each other, on Facebook.

She’s done this.

Entertain the idea of a male harem.

“Male harem” = two dudes I met at bars who fuck me in between fucking their other twelve girls.

Now you’re just owning this spinster thing. It really doesn’t sound so bad anymore.

She keeps telling herself that.

You know that guy friend you weren’t romantically interested in because he was just too nice and available? Suddenly, you’re grown up enough to come to your senses. Marry the fuck out of him.

The problem with this alpha fux, beta bux lifestyle plan for feminists with furry man-faces is that the quality of man they can expect to get as a past-prime cougar will be lower than what they could have gotten when they were younger, hotter, tighter and less cynical. And by “quality man”, I mean the sort of man a cunt like VFE would actually love.

You see, faux savvy feminists, there are prices to be paid for your dating choices. There’s no free lunch, and that’s especially true when lunch is the slime mold you call your vagina. You can screw around with sexy charismatic cads when you’re younger and thinner, but those men won’t be around to give you the marriage and Netflix viewing partnership you’ll want when your hair is stringier, your tits saggier, and your heart harder. You will, not to put too fine a point on it, have to settle for less. Sometimes much less.

Hope this smart advice helps.

Real Female Beauty From 0 To 10

It’s been a long time since we’ve had a female beauty ranking post. It’s good to remind women why they were put here on Zod’s green earth. But this time, instead of featuring a series of photos of exceptionally pretty women and arguing vociferously over the small details in character… personality… chest size that separate a 9 from a 10, this round of female beauty rankings will ask you, the readers, to judge the looks of the kinds of strong, empowered, independent “real women” you might meet at the office or strolling around your neighborhood walking their cats.

So there won’t be any Victoria’s Secret models or celebrities in this post; today is a celebration of the everyday women who walk among us. These are your women, American Son, and this is your life. Time to put away childish fantasy and rank the beauty of the women you are most likely to meet in real life.

You can vote however you like for each photo; this is a random sampling of women, not necessarily a comprehensive selection meant to encompass all ten points on the classic 1 to 10 female looks scale. There are fourteen photos altogether and a poll under each one. Your most accurate vote will be the vote you make with your gut, so don’t dawdle too much over each picture. God forbid this turns into a contest.

The women are nameless, and in no particular order. Each poll has a neutral description to help readers identify who’s who in the final tally that will be an average of everyone’s rankings. CH will analyze these results in a future post.

Programming notes: Some persnickety nerds have argued that there’s no such thing as a “10”. CH disagrees. Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michelle Pfeiffer were both 10s in their primes. Going back further, Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly were 10s. Megan Fox is a legit 10 today, as is at least one member of whomever Disney is grooming to be the next F YOU DAD slut du jour. Just because 10s are rare doesn’t mean they aren’t real.

Out on the opposite, far left tail of the female looks belle curve, there are arguments about the existence of zeroes: Women with sexual worths approaching absolute zero (in degrees Pelvis). Anti-freeze advocates argue that as long as there is at least one man, however much of a Quasimodo loser he may be, who is willing to dump his gnarled seed in an extremely ugly woman, that woman cannot be said to have zero sexual worth. However, there are some monstrous pump and dumps so disheartening to an ugly woman, and so indicative of her bargain basement price on the open sexual market, that sex with a subterranean creature will actually lower her SMV (sexual market value) beyond that SMV which would generously accrue to her in the absence of evidentiary relinquishment to the contrary.

To put it differently, the sex skew in innate sexual discriminatory disposition (men being on the whole less discriminatory, especially as pertains extremely short term conquests) renders inadmissible in the court of public opinion the ability of very ugly women to occasionally get laid with abject losers (think homeless piss-stained bums) as proof of the non-zero SMV of those women.

The reason 0 is not usually included on most 1 to 10 female looks rankings has to do with the practical and valid assumption that for the vast majority of men, 0s aren’t recognizable as female humans. Their inclusion on a female looks scale would then be irrelevant, sort of like including toddlers, grandmas and the morbidly obese. However, 0s, like 10s, do exist, and in the realm of photo-based beauty rankings where the goal is measurement rather than practical filtering of live women to streamline target acquisition, the 0 option is a useful corrective to a traditional 1-10 scale that ignores women who are not worth porking with Manboobz’s thimbledick.

Given the above programming notes, any commenters clogging the board with complaints about the metaphysical improbability of 0s and 10s will be summarily banned. Stay focused, people.

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Men In Science

International Women’s Day came and went (what, you didn’t notice either?), and feminists of all 152 gender persuasions celebrated in style. Memes like this one littered chat rooms:

A patriarchal reader decided it would be the perfect time to remind the celebrants in similar fashion about the men in science to whom we owe most of our civilizational comforts.

That’s one pale-looking pastiche.

The unintended consequence of made-up equalist holidays is to subtly neg the non-straight white male honorees about their disproportionately tiny contributions to Western glory. The designated uplift groups had it better when their spokes-shysters weren’t pushing for transparently phony recognition of romper room achievements. At least before this tard and brony show became America’s light unto the nations, the losers could pretend they had an awesome heritage which was being ignored instead of patronized.