Straw Game

Commenter John writes:

My friend bought a pack of really long straws, each straw is about 2 feet long. Go to the bar, bring a straw, and just put it in girls drinks from a slight distance and start drinking them. If they ask what youre doing just say “killing it”

You might get a few pissed off girls, but overall this technique is fucking hilarious and works.

Haha. Good stuff. And why is this good stuff? Because you just know the hottest girls will be the ones to fall hardest for this mischief-maker game.

Girls love fun. They love men who invite fun to their dreary lives. They especially love the kind of fun that skirts the line of socially acceptable behavior.

Fun, of course, is inherently fun. And since adult single women are closer in brain functioning to girl children than they are to adult men, the fun that men can supply is like a drug to single women, harkening back to a time of innocence and carefree recklessness, except with orgasms added to the mix. (Older women and married women with children have had the fun-appreciating parts of their brains crowded out by the dull maturity parts, but luckily for us we aren’t interested in sex with those women so their wants and needs are unimportant.)

But there is another reason why chicks dig fun-loving men: the man who is fun demonstrates through his rebellious actions a lack of concern for the demure approval of the women around him. To make fun is to say, “I don’t care about princess pedestals. This girl is getting down in the muck with me. She will either laugh and get with my program, or she will be branded a boring lump on a log.”

Girls can sense the minutest indications that they are being judged, which they love very much. Mischief at their expense is a form of judging them for their ability to chill out and go with the flow.

The man who can deliver fun without self-doubt, without apology, without obvious need for audience applause, and with a sparkle of subtle judgementalism, is displaying MASTERY of his EMOTIONAL ENVIRONMENT. When you are all about MEE, you are more attractive to women. Your state control is exhibited in all its powerful allure. You have proven mastery over your environment, over the emotional feedback of beautiful women, and, most crucially, over your own emotions.

And you have come off a little bit like a jerk, which is the attitude chicks dig.

Now ask yourself, when was the last time you saw a beta male slip a long straw into a cute girl’s drink, and start up a beeyootiful romance with her? That’s right, never. So why would you ever want to be a beta male? Oh, yes, marriage to a past-prime careerist, ingrate kids, your life mortgaged to the hilt. Sounds… fun.

Tested Dolls

It’s cute the way Russian women look so mortified when they stumble. Truly, the Slav is a feminine stock of woman.

American women have their own charms, of course, stumbling and laughing it off as some kind of binge drinking medal sweep.

Beta Female Relationship Whoring

Reader MrJohn writes:

I didn’t know where else to talk to someone about this thing I’ve witnessed, so why not here. Valentine is really a great holiday to spot the betas of the world. Here’s a beta from Sweden. All seen on Facebook. The girl (24) and the guy (about 28) has been dating for about a half year. The past months she’s openly called him ‘hubby’ on FB, although they are not engaged. She’s pretty much unemployed and has definitely gained a lot of weight lately. I don’t wanna post pictures of her, but she’s a solid 6. He looks a bit feminine, bordering on gay with his facial expressions. He works his ass off to please her. The typical Swedish guy I guess.

Looking at her page, she has been posting almost every hour of the valentines evening. And at mid-night she’s summing up the evening: (Yeah updating Facebook before giving him sex or any other trivial activity)

“Last pics to summarise our night  saw this movie here, got 15 roses of my favourite colours, three course dinner and finished the day with slow dance in our living room. I have such a wonderful man. Thank you (name). Love you with all my heart and hopefully 80 more years of this to come <3″

– attached are photos of them together in restaurants, with roses and all that.

I feel sick somehow. Am I just too sensitive? Perhaps this is the way to do valentines?

What has sickened you, gentleman reader, is the phenomenon of the beta female engaged in the act of relationship whoring.

You are right to retch, for beta female relationship whoring (BFRW, sounded out “Beef Raw”) is among the most transparent of ego-stroking ploys utilized by undesirable or marginally desirable women. You really want to call them out but, hey, polite society and all. That’s why we have this blog; so you can say what’s on your mind with the kind of freedom that nowadays only naive, small children or cantankerous old farts get to enjoy.

Women of questionable sexual worth who have “snagged” men of higher value, however precariously, are frequently susceptible to feeling urges to advertise on the flimsiest pretexts the undying love their loosely committed boyfriends have for them.

The reason the beta female feels this urge is because such overblown advertising of her relationship strength (as defined by the extent to which the man caught up in her shenanigans lavishes her with gifts and paeans to her awesomeness) serves multiple evolutionary purposes:

1. It signals her fidelity to her one-foot-in-one-foot-out boyfriend. Many men will settle for women less pretty than their ideal if those women compensate by offering implied (paternity) guarantees of present and future faithfulness.

2. It warns away female poachers. If her boyfriend is moveable product, there is a good chance he will bolt at the first sign of interest from a hotter girl. Women love taken men, but their predilection to act on that evil female instinct may be suppressed if the girlfriend of the desired man can fool her hotter competition into thinking he only has eyes for her.

3. It stroketh thine ego. A girl with a well-lubed ego is a happier girl who will be a more congenial girlfriend. (Congeniality nullified if happy ego results in ice cream aided fattitude.)

4. It is social oxytocin (or proxy oxytocin). The hormonally-charged bonding that naturally occurs in the early stages of a relationship can be synthesized quicker by ruses to project the relationship to a point in the future when it would presumably be stronger and more committed. Players use a modification of this strategy to speed up the time to sex, called time compression, time distortion, or future pacing.

5. If the girl is a bit prettier than average, say a 6 or 7, and on the wall side of 25, the beta female relationship whoring strategy could just as easily function for her as a self-regulating mechanism which “tricks” her into feeling stronger love for her boyfriend than she might in actuality feel, thus hindering any impulse she might have to trade up and risk a sure thing. Women have a more powerful “trading up” urge than do men, and this instinct can get them in trouble if they don’t have the self-discipline to know when they have a good thing and act accordingly.

Relationship whoring is essentially a technique employed by lower quality females for discouraging the competition and for encouraging the fence-sitting boyfriend to discard his fantasy of scouring the field for a hotter replacement. It can also serve to push a woman closer to a beta boyfriend so that she does not ruin herself on a perpetual hunt for commitment from an elusive alpha male.

If you doubt the efficacy of this strategy, here’s a thought experiment. Tell me, as a man, given two women of equal facial and body attractiveness, would you find it harder to dump or cheat on a woman who was emotionally distant and giving little indication she was interested in an LTR, or harder to dump or cheat on a woman who professed your mutual love to the world and tacitly confessed her utter devotion to you?

I mean, unlike me, assume you are a non-sociopath in the above thought experiment.

You may ask why one does not nearly as often witness this vile practice of BFRW from hot girls, or from very ugly girls.

Well, in the first case, hot girls have more options. They are thus less likely within any given relationship to feel as urgent a need to restrict their own choices by advertising their status as taken women. They are also less apt to feel insecurity about their boyfriends’ levels of commitment, (men are way more willing to stick around and invest if the lady is a champ), and they are less afraid of competition. (The threat of competition that would arise by dating a desirable alpha male is counteracted by the reduced threat of competition from being better looking than most of her female peers.)

In the second case, uglier girls (4s and under) don’t resort so much to the BFRW strategy because they don’t generally date men who are of sufficient sexual market value to entice female interlopers. The ugly girl is with a low value man, and nobody wants either of them, least of all themselves, despite the alacrity to which they resign themselves to their moribund romantic fate.

Middling girls are the ones who most benefit from BEEF RAW. Facebook is filled with 5s, 6s and 7s promoting pics of their candlelit Valentines dinners with herbish boyfriends looking for all the world like they’d rather be gunning down starships in an MMO.

What’s especially revealing about the BFRW subculture is that a man can indirectly appraise his own SMV by his inclusion or absence from BFRW antics. If your girlfriend has posted pics of you and her in all manner of romantic obsequiousness, you are probably a beta male with just enough SMV to avoid involuntary celibacy. If, in contrast, your girlfriend admirably restrains herself from the lure of online attention whoring and shouting your abject devotion to the heart of the world, you are probably an alpha male dating a good-looking lady of character. Hang up your player vestments, because…….. hahaha, who am I kidding!? You were gaming in your mama’s womb (stealing her resources) and you’ll be gaming till your last breath leaves you.

So, no, reader, this is not the way to do Valentine’s Day, unless you are a beta who doesn’t mind putting up with suffocating female crap and scaring away hotter girls who might be future conquests. Just get her a Skittles bag, enjoy her everlasting love, and be happy you aren’t getting pushed off-course your program to maintain relationship limbo in perpetuity.

Why America Sucks, A Series

PA, one of the dark right’s consistently quality commenters, writes at GLPiggy:

When working on obtaining permanent residency for the foreign spouse, you are both interviewed by an ICE agent whose job it is to decide if you’re a real couple or not. Applicants (US citizen sponsor and the foreign fiancee) are advised to bring photos of the two of you on dates and other evidence that you’re a bona fide couple. They ask you things like the color of each others toothbrush, and things like that.

The agent who interviewed us — I was in my early/mid 30s then and my fiancee in her early 20s — HATED HATED HATED me. She gave out an enormous Ivy League lesbian feminist vibe, and kept trying to trip me up on facts. My demeanor was one of amused mastery layered with crocodile-grin politeness, and I’d produce every kind of documentation she’d ask for. I was genuinely amused by the process. At one point she asked me with a note of exasperation “are you a lawyer?” She ended the interview by telling my fiancee “make sure you get an education and know your rights as a woman!” or something to that effect. Good times.

By the way, I believe we were the only white couple in the entire waiting room filled with hundreds of other applicants that day.

Having known a few European-background foreigners of exceptional mien who journeyed through the (legal) US citizenship gauntlet instead of just doing the easy thing and jumping the border, and having heard their stories of woe navigating layer upon layer of inexcusably combative cunts and sneering diversity hire ballast, I can attest to the authenticity of PA’s experience.

So this is what America is becoming: Land of the Ivy League dyke and home of the anti-white bigot. A degenerate army of feminist and racialist bureaucrat multicultists who not-so-secretly despise white men staffs our government agencies, top to bottom, front to back, floor to ceiling, cubicle to cubicle, shore to shore. The very immigrants we should be welcoming with open arms — smart, white Europeans — are the immigrants to which our (literal) gatekeepers are most hostile, preferring instead to smile broadly and swing the doors widely to indigent Somali tribesmen.

Way to put your best face forward, America!

No homo, but I would trade one million American lesbian feminists for one foreign-born PA. It wouldn’t increase my competition — that’s one million fewer man-hating beasts despoiling my environment and spreading the virus of slothful fatassery among the few remaining slender American women — and it would add one more ally in the war against the ideological perversion known here as equalism. And if you think America isn’t stacked and packed with one million quasi-dyke feminists, well, you haven’t been here long enough to appreciate the comprehensive cave the voices of reason made to the forces of treason.

America is no longer the country she once was. She’s now a fragile papier-maché prop containing nothing but wire hanger and air inside her. Won’t take much more than a match to burn her sad effigy to the ground.

Comment Of The Week

Commenter Revo Luzione suggests a reason why the exclamation snort is not attractive when women use it:

Kate: “Many a text exchange has reached a dead end when I reply with “snort.””

That’s because elephants, rhinos, and angry Holsteins all snort before charging.

Snort!

This gets to a larger point: the snark and snideness and gleeful antagonism that works for men to attract women does not sit as well on women when they use it to try and attract men. This is because male aloofness and other male value-raising ploys — of which the Theory of Snort is a part — are designed to appeal to women’s natural hypergamous urge for higher status (read: condescending) men than themselves. In contrast, men are not attracted to women’s social status, and in fact may be put off by women with higher social or economic status than themselves. Men’s hypergamy, such as it is, seeks ever more beautiful and feminine women. And there is nothing about leaving an impression of an angry Holstein that makes women seem more beautiful or feminine.

Reader Mailbag: A Valentine’s Day Plea

A reader celebrates the holiday of love:

I won’t bore you with my long story. Ex of 8 years cheated, dumped me, I learned about game and Alpha Males, started being awesome. She came running back, I backslide by banging her for a few months while seeing other women too. Learned she banged two of my friends. Was an idiot and let her end things.

I’m doing ok now, teaching myself to destroy my enemies and relentlessly chase my dreams. Can’t help but be irritated at this callous bitch and the shitty friends who chose her used up vaj over friendship. I’m moving on, [ed: are you sure?] but there is one thing I really wanna do…bang her sister.

Sister is younger than her by 5 years, looked up to me in her teens, isn’t my biggest fan after the breakup, but when in the same room we’re friendly. What angle can I use to try and seal the deal and destroy my ex for good.

Don’t you love a heartwarming Valentine’s Day story?

First of all, you’re not over your ex if you want to “destroy her for good”. That said, I know the feeling of exacted vengeance, and it feels good. Banging her sister would certainly do the trick, although there are easier ways to rain pain upon your ex-flame. (Ya know, just letting her see you in the company of a hotter girl would work, too, and without inviting all that messy familial shit.)

Women are naturally competitive, though they may sweetly claim otherwise, so I’ve no doubt your ex’s sister has at times entertained the thought of stealing you for herself. Now whether she still entertains that thought is open to question. I get the vibe from your email that you didn’t comport yourself in an attractive, aloofly alpha manner during your drawn-out breakup.

How about this angle: Try innuendo. Plant the seed of oblique romance and tell her a variation on these words: “Your sister is a great person, despite flaws we all share. It didn’t work out, but that’s for the best. When I was with her, there was often… someone else on my mind.”

Linger, linger, aaaaaand… walk off. Return another day to escalate the flirtation. Poison the sisterly well by absently remarking on this or that negative comment your ex made about her sister, true or not. Wonder aloud if your ex ever made moves on her sister’s boyfriends, because, ahhh, forget it… ok, ok, there was that one time she mentioned something weird about dancing with Kevin… yeah, yeah, you figured it was her Kevin your ex was talking about.

You get the idea, champ. Whatever you do, DO NOT tip your hand in the slightest that your pursuit is driven by butthurtness. You must remain as cool and calculating as you were, presumably, when you first seduced your ex.

***

Reader #2 asks:

From a transcipt on Obama’s State of the Union speech last night:

“And we’ll work to strengthen families by removing the financial deterrents to marriage for low-income couples and do more to encourage fatherhood, because what makes you a man isn’t the ability to conceive a child, it’s having the courage to raise one. And we want to encourage that. We want to help that.”

Your thoughts?

Nice platitudes. Prepare for wallet raping. Because wallet raping is all this present day crop of pols knows how to do.

***

Reder #3 wonders about girls and horses (horse cock sold separately):

I continue to meet and (sometimes) date females who are into riding horses. Sometimes they own the horses… sometimes they lease them, sometimes they just ‘rent them’. However, as I continue to meet more of the horse girls, the more convinced I am that something just isn’t right.

Unfortunately, I live in an affluent area in the county where sometimes the cost of the horse exceeds the cost of the house people live in, and they cherish the horse more than anything else.

Some help for us guys who continue to run into them? Are there any stable ( ha ha) horse chicks out there? Should I continue to date them and see where it goes? Have you had any experience yourself?

A < snarky fat feminist who thinks she’s clever >metric fuckton< / snarky fat feminist who thinks she’s clever > has been written about the love pretty girls have for horsemeat, ahem, cantoring stallions. Theories abound, and you can search for them at your nearest internet kiosk. My personal favorite theory is that the horse is a surrogate for the exciting badboy: dangerously explosive power tamed precariously under her tender tutelage. The horse evokes her nurturance instinct, her desire to monopolize and channel male (or animal) power, and her thrill for wild, unpredictable beasts with soulful brown eyes.

Remember, folks, we gave this gender the vote!

I’ve been around girls who either had family-owned horses or went horse riding semi-regularly. Very loosely, they tend to favor hard-charging, elitist men, kind of like their horses. Some of the older horse-loving women are closet lesbians, but the younger ones are hetero and usually feminine. Psychologically, they are different than cat lovers with respect to their propensity for drama; the cat ladies have it in spades. Other than that, further stereotyping eludes. Too many crazy SWPLs have clouded my ability to discern extra special craziness in female sub genera.

***

Reader #4 has lost his taste for his womenfolk:

So, I’ve dated lots of girls in life, and I’ve dumped most of them.  Mostly, they’ve been lunatics, liars, and leeches.

In time, I started dating other ethnicities.  Eventually, I married an asian.  I’m caucasian.

I see lots of 7s and 8s these days, and they’re mostly caucasian.  But for some reason–for some strange reason–every time I see a caucasian chick, I’m filled with disgust and I’m repulsed on some levels.  Why?  I’m not a racist.  I’m not a liberal white self-hating kind of a guy.  It’s just that I’m “formed” in this way.  Something compells my subconscious to say “she’s worthy, she’s cool” if she’s from some other exotic locale.  But my own white skin?  I just don’t trust it.

Thoughts?

What’s happened to me?

The troll is strong in this email. But, it’s soon to be Valentine’s Day, and I’m feeling gullible.

Some minority of people in any race probably have a limbic disposition for other-race mates. I dunno the number. Say, 5%. These peeps, of whom you may be one, are particularly aroused by exotic women, and in particular naturally feminine exotic women, such as the asian. It could be nothing more than that.

Or, you may have had a damagingly bad experience with a white woman and the event left you with a repulsing psychological imprint which redounds to all white women.

Whichever it is, I’m not sure why I included your email in this mailbag, except perhaps to throw stinky chum into the commenter water. And this is why National Review won’t annex my talents.

***

Reader #5 would like to know how to deflect attention from a girl he doesn’t care for:

Been running game for a couple of months. Seeing some good results but also interest from the wrong areas. One girl, a high 7, is obsessive. Just for fun, what’s the most beta set of moves I could pull to make her stop feeling attraction?

Get caught fucking a dude in a furry suit.

Well, you asked.

For real, just stop talking to her. If she’s not the psycho sort, she’ll eventually take the hint and cry it out in her dim bedroom alone.

But, if you don’t have the patience to wait it out, and kind of like having her around for pivot reasons, I suggest the following betatization program:

1. Pretend every second of your day you are hiding from alien probes. Sit hunched, look nervously around the room, cross your arms and legs, hold your drink up to your nose, shudder a lot, shuffle, hang your head, spaz out at hearing loud noises, cry for no reason, look at your shoes when you speak, announce that flourescent lighting scares you.

2. Confess that you love her. Make sure to sound as nervous as possible. Apply fake sweat beads to your forehead. Tell her you wrote her a poem, and would like to read it aloud. When she screws up her face, cry. Whine that you just knew she wouldn’t like it.

3. Confide to her that you’ve been having erectile dysfunction problems. Say that you don’t mind telling her because you feel so close to her.

4. Constantly accuse her of seeing other men. “Were you with somebody yesterday?” “Who’s that guy? You know him?” “Did you sleep with him?” “Why do you have so many guy friends?” “Don’t you think it’s weird that you talk to other men besides me?”

5. Ask her if she loves you. Ask her twenty more times until she gives an answer that is acceptably foul to you.

6. Espouse feminism.

There are plenty more ball-shriveling tactics, but these should do the trick. If they don’t, you are probably lying that she is a “high 7”. Fat, desperate loser would be my guess, because no woman with a modicum of sexual value would be able to withstand that beta onslaught for long without retching.

From Vikings To Vaginas

What happened to the Nordics? Once a virile, conquering race of people who struck fear in the hearts of enemies, they have been reduced to a feminist utopia of sniveling beta males who are encouraged to pee sitting down and aggro women who’d rather go clubbing with earthy foreign invaders.

How could a race of man fall so low, so fast?

In the quest for an answer to this great mystery of mass manboobization, a commenter over at Parapundit serves this up:

I suspect the Scandinavians with the strongest temperaments left long ago as Vikings, same as that the bravest Englishmen left for the colonies.

The only ones who are left are the descendants of the guys who stayed home to weave with the womenfolk.

Or pule about “white privilege”.

Yes, I think there is something to this hypothesis. The alpha males of North and West Europe either moved away or died off in endless wars and pillages, and now their homelands are repositories of soft-tittied beta males.

There’s no denying that beta male skewed societies are nice places to live. Scandinavia enjoys high standards of living, low crime (until recently), a plethora of comfort-maximizing gadgets, good-looking women, and generally non-dictatorial government (until recently). As poolside (or hot springs-side) countries go, the Norselands are right up there with the most pampering of them.

So, beta male countries > alpha male countries.

But here’s the catch. Too many betas and no alphas makes Jakob a plush target.

Pure speculation, but it has bite… a nation needs its alpha males to keep the manboobery impulses of its softer, kinder, gentler beta males in check. Otherwise, some other nation’s alpha males will fill the vacuum left by the real or cultural disappearance of the native alphas, waltzing in to do the job because the native betas decided open borders to a whole world of vengeful, antagonistic losers is smart policy.

Exhibit A: Multiculturalism. Who pushes this shit? The descendants of Viking berserkers? No. Just look at the advocates of masochistic, self-annihilating ideologies and you will see a blubberers’ row of pudgy, chipmunk-cheeked herblings, snarky hunchbacks, watery eyed dweebs, space cadet neohippies, formless male feminists and, on the other side of the gender bender ledger, manjawed clitdicks, bullheaded warboars, jet-fueled rationalization hamsters, mustachioed grievance whores and shameless status seekers.

The beta male’s greatest strengths — his cooperativeness, friendliness, credulity, magnanimity, trust and openness — are also his nation’s undoing when allowed to express unopposed. He needs the wariness, leadership, skepticism, protectiveness, fighting spirit and stone cold instinct for survival of his brother alphas to prevent him from imploding into a blob of depraved navel-gazing, hoisting his red rump for any and all who’d love nothing more than to sharpen their knives in his flesh and lube their cocks in his forgiving bottom. Exhibit B.

A nation of tops is Zimbabwe. A nation of bottoms is raped into the history books. The West would be wise to reverse course for the middle ground.

Finishing off on a positive note, the system may be self-correcting. Ironically, feminism is likely selecting for the sexual success of more aggressive, high testosterone alphas. The removal of societal constraints on female sexuality allows for the flourishing of women’s hypergamous impulses, and women, adorable hypocrites that they are, can’t help but defy their open claims to the contrary to prefer sensitive betas, and instead swoonly spread for the love of anti-feminist men strong in mind and body.

The self-correction is not guaranteed, and for this glaring reason: widely available, cheap contraceptives and abortifacients. A turn to alpha male sexual success does not necessarily mean a turn to alpha male procreative success, as it would have in the past. It could be that the West is currently experiencing the worst of all worlds: feminism-abetted unfettered female sexuality coupled with hamster tingling for irresponsible cads and migrant males.

Is this post speculative? Yes. Did you feel a shiver of omen in these words? I bet you did. Stay tuned.