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A crying, whimpering, or otherwise despondent female whose body isn’t encased in layers of blubber is an irresistible opportunity for white knighties and betaboys to prove they are the ones to ride to her rescue. The beta male lives for those moments he gets a chance to comfort a distressed or depressed girl, because the beta male is under the grossly self-defeating impression that comforting words and a shoulder to cry on are the stuff of pussy tingles.

See, men project their experiences with distress onto women. When men are distressed, it isn’t (usually) an act. Life in general is tougher for men (in the parlance of Cunt Wave Feminism, men shoulder a greater burden of “emotional labor”). So distressed men will sincerely welcome a helping hand or a word of encouragement, and will especially appreciate those things coming from a pretty girl. Oftentimes, distressed betas fall instantly in love with a girl who gives them the tiniest morsel of sympathy.

But it doesn’t work this way for women. First, women get distressed all the time, and mostly for ridiculous reasons. It’s very rare that a hottie will be depressed for legitimate reasons; more likely is that she is just venting a toxic build-up of emotions that have accumulated from her roller coaster relationship with a jerkboy, and the act of venting and brooding is itself very pleasurable for her. So pretty girls won’t truly welcome sympathy from men except as a springboard for the girls to play up the damsel in distress angle to extract bennies from betas.

Second, women are sexually put off by men who come on strong with the Sympathy Game, reasoning (rightly) that these men are chicken shits who are trying to weasel their way into women’s panties by role-playing as asexual therapists.

If you see a pretty girl who looks depressed to you, #resist the urge to comfort her. Instead, be the jerk chicks dig and tell her crying’s not allowed unless her dog or her mother died. Then offer her a hanky embroidered with a photo of your smirking face.

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Apropos of the theme of this post, a relevant text exchange between Peter Strzok (beta) and Lisa Page (ugly strivercunt):

LISA PAGE*: “[Trump’s] not ever going to become president, right? Right?!”

PETER STRZOK**: “No. No he won’t. We’ll stop it.”

First, thanks for tipping off everyone in America to your coup de tat against Trump! Very informative. Second, Peter, you dumb pencil-necked herbling, an aggrocunt tankgrrl like Page doesn’t want your captain save a ho act. It turns her off to know she has you wrapped around her manfingers. Petey, you were never on top, were you? How often was she behind you, enacting the male role with a strap-on?

The Three Types Of Men

I’d add a fourth type:

The Dreg. This is the guy who can’t even get love from a fatty and who has no male friends.

PS The 3 Male Archetypes meme above is also a useful shorthand for civilizational cycles:

Relationship Beta -> Peak civilization
Polygynous Jerkboy Alpha -> Rising replacement civilization from the smoking ruins of a destroyed civilization
Incel Niceguy -> Declining civilization
David Fatrelle -> Gynarcho-tyranny

Spot The King

The King is the man sitting on the throne, as his subjects gather in a crowd about him to petition his grace. Those butthurt subjects would be Murderin’ Merkel and Mammy-Banging Maricon. Often, the King has a right hand man equally condescending of the proceedings. That would be Abe Shinzo in this photo. And a courtier expressing the King’s contempt with agape mouth. That would be John Bolton.

Trump is the center of attention, drawing the camera to himself even when he’s in the corner of the frame, while globalist cup rattlers like Merkel pout and whine impotently in his orbit.

Normally, crossed arms are a closed-off, defensive posture, but there are contexts in which the crossed arm coupled with the haughty smirk and WIDE STANCE manspreading underscore a supreme self-confidence and contempt for one’s interlocutors. That is the case in this instantly iconic photo.

(The iconic nature of the photo is less to do with snapshot body language analysis of Trump meeting with World Cucks than it does with it being symbolic of the geopolitical realignment away from Globohomoism and towards a reinvigorated nationalism that is more comfortable embracing the truths of race and sex and the need to curb elite avarice. Keep an eye out for the coming Nippon-American alliance.)

Shitlibs claiming this pic shows Trump in a diminutive light, withering under the schoolmarmish glare of a scolding Merkel, have no ability to read social situations or facial expressions. This is the shitlib version of autism. Two movies, one screen. And the movie shitlibs are watching is a figment of their Harry Potterized imagination.

Don Trump Jr’s social media feed is entertaining for its area effect triggering of shitlibs:

Did Trump rip a fat joke at the expense of Supercuts Kim? Survey SAYS:

Comments are gold:

why does this look like a scene from The Office?

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i’m really starting to like Trump with his subtle criticisms of fellow world leaders

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kim getting hit with the translation right as his blood pressure spikes

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What’s the right word to use when someone is making sly, offensive insults about someone else that’s in the room but without it looking like a direct insult at them? Seriously, I’ve often wondered what word you would use to describe that.

The word is “neg”.

Isn’t it great how much more entertaining the Trump Presidency is compared to the stilted wooden sequel we would have had to endure with a Cunt Presidency?

Loved this:

“brought as many documents as he gives fucks: 0”

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lol there’s manspreading, and then there’s the Trumpchasm:

Heavy brass ones require tremendous lebensraum.

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Is Trump a Master Persuader? Does the Russian bear live rent free in shitlibs’ minds? This is a slickly produced action movie-style trailer which Trump played for Supercuts Kim (stay tuned for the best part of the video…when the lights come on in NK):

Trump appeals to Kim Jong-un’s ego. Trump knows the psychological vulnerability of dictators as well as he knows the soft underbelly of media leftoids, for the two groups are not that far apart, and Trump plays both like a fiddle. It can’t be said enough how blessed Heritage America is to have this man as our President, and that indeed it often seems as if divine providence guided Trump to us when he was most needed.

PS Obama whoo?

Groyper Jones has a topical Game question,

I’m almost finished with my first 100 approaches. I keep getting girls who say they have a boyfriend, but still give me their number to just be friends.

I don’t know what to make of this. Are they just being polite, or should I keep pushing?

This is one of those sexual market rituals that has changed over time. It used to be that girls wouldn’t give their numbers out to men for whom the girls had no romantic feelings. Or they would give out a fake number. It was just too messy to give real numbers to betas who might stalk them or latch onto their orbit like an incel asteroid. Rarely, a man would cross paths with a sociopath who relished accumulating a soyem (male harem) of beta orbiters, and who would give her phone number to almost any man who asked. We call those girls attention whores, and their numbers are increasing exponentially.

But this has changed in recent years. Girls will now freely give their digits on the pretense of asexual friendship. I’ve noticed it, and others who are newer to the dating scene have noticed as well. Instead of the friendzone, I call this the friendphone. Are girls simply more naive than they used to be, or are they more sociopathic? Both possibilities are on the table.

To answer your two questions, no and yes.

The girls aren’t being polite. If all they were doing was being polite, they would say they have a BF, and leave it at that. This is how it’s traditionally been done for thousands of thot-years. So what’s changed?

The nature of men, for one. There are a lot more beta male simps than there used to be, owing to a culture that has elevated emasculation to an art form and to the bulk of men’s formative years being spent in faptivity with porn and vidja.

The nature of women, for two. There are a lot more manjaws and strident skanklib cunts than there used to be, owing to a culture that has denigrated femininity and to the bulk of women’s formative years being spent overweight, socially disconnected, and aridly flattered online by thirsty betas.

The nature of nature, for three. Our waters are polluted with endocrine disruptors like the Pill.

The nature of our culture, for four. Antisocial media has deprived men and women of the relational social skills they need to court each other. Game may as well be Mandarin to the typical Ameriherb. Additionally, slut glorification has stripped the stigma from women who cock hop.

The nature of the sexual market, for five. There is a horrible sex skew between the numbers of available men vying for the love of a shrinking pool of slender, single babes. This reality breeds attention seeking thots, cock carouseling, grinding incel, and regretful Wall-approaching spinsters.

Given the above changes I’ve listed, the likeliest explanation for the emergence of the friendphone is a combination of fearlessness and aggro hypergamy. Girls are much less fearful of the beta males who swarm around them and of the potential danger to reputation those betas would have posed back in a more patriarchal time; this incentivizes attention whoring. It’s no risk anymore for a girl to cavalierly accumulate a horde of sexless simps to diddle her idclit whenever she needs it.

The aggro, open hypergamy is the result of too many men competing for too few women. (Worse, competing for too few women who aren’t economically self-sufficient and could use the LTR boost of a beta provider.) The plain jane can now juggle a few admirers (only one of which will have access to her vanilla vagina) without incurring reputational loss or threat of abandonment. The orbiter and sexless male friends will cling to her for months, and years, enduring the cruelty of sniffing, but never touching, proximate vaj. They will patiently wait wait wait for their oneitis to “tire” of her jerkboy lover. They will never leave this waiting room. It is a portal to hell for them.

The hypergamous girl is fishing, always looking to reel in that monster bass. The more leeway she has to continually dangle her bait, the longer she’ll keep it in the water testing for nibbles. That’s what these friendphone girls are doing; dangling, recasting, dangling, and then reeling in whichever man is more alluring to her than the beta orbiters and Fake BFs she currently has in her rotation.

The conclusion I’m arriving at is this, Mr. Jones: If you are getting girls’ real numbers with the IHAB rider attached, the girls are equally interested in you AND attention whoring to enlarge their soyems. Continue gaming them as if they were undeclared property, and be careful to avoid beta orbiter traps that would unseal the deal.

Keep pushing. Every girl now has a male in her company that she can call a “boyfriend”, though he may be nothing of the sort as conventionally understood. It may be a male she *wishes* were her bf, or it may be a recruited flatterer she labels a bf in a pinch when social expectation calls for it.

If she gives her number, a part of her is thinking about exploring intimacy with you. It may be a small part, but all you need is a foot in the whore. If you follow up on one of these sweet numbers, and she mentions the bf again, consult the Chateau archives for numerous anti-bf quips that will easily surmount this most common of shit tests.

CH Maxim #99: Keep pushing for sex, until she stops allowing you to push.

You’ll know when she thwarts your advances for real, and when she’s putting up token resistance. Knowing the difference comes with sexperience.

One trick that works wonders on the modren wahman is to call her bluff. Reply to her objections, “hey, don’t get the wrong idea. I just called because you were looking for a friend.” Then, be friendly. Don’t act resentful or butthurt. Open yourself to her terms of engagement, hiding your ulterior motive until it’s too late for her to #resist. Hang with her, but keep pushing and working the magic, devoting each minute you and her are together to your ultimate goal. This is the sneaky fucker strategy, minus the angry ape boyfriend who comes back to reclaim his turf, because she won’t really have a boyfriend, and if she does it won’t be a boyfriend she respects enough to stay faithful to, which means he won’t be a man you need fear.

What happens when you separate prey animals from their native predators?

The prey animals lose their natural fear of the predators.

What happens when the predators return?

Heh.

Via plumpjack,

food for thought: a group of animals separated from their predators lost their fear of the predators after 13 generations:

“Conservationists are stuck in a catch-22: In trying to save some species, the would-be protectors may be giving the animals an evolutionary disadvantage. A new study describes how efforts to protect the endangered northern quoll, a spotted, kitten-sized marsupial native to Australia, by placing a population on a threat-free island may have actually undermined a key survival ins-tinct.

After 13 generations — just 13 years — in isolation, the northern quolls (Dasyurus hallucatus) had lost their fear response to native predators, researchers report June 5 in Biology Letters.

“Evolution can happen very rapidly” for animals with fast breeding times, says evolutionary biologist Rick Shine of the University of Sydney, who was not involved in the study.

Separating endangered species from predators is a common conservation technique, sometimes taking place in captive-breeding programs in zoos or fenced enclosures or on isolated islands. The approach allows a species to build up its population before eventually being reintroduced to the wild.

Populations of northern quolls have been drastically reduced in recent decades by invasive poisonous cane toads (SN Online: 2/3/14). In 2003, the Australian Northern Territory Government tried to preserve the quolls in part by moving 45 of them to toad-free Astell Island, off mainland Australia’s northern coast.

INVADER Northern quolls were isolated to protect them from poisonous cane toads, an invasive species responsible for killing many native animals.

In 2016, biologist Christopher Jolly of the University of Melbourne and colleagues tried to reintroduce some quolls from Astell to the mainland. But the effort was quickly halted after dingoes and feral cats killed many of the new arrivals (SN Online: 2/11/15).

In trying to figure out what happened, the researchers tested the fear responses of four populations of quolls: wild mainland quolls, island-born quolls and offspring from both groups. Quolls from each group were given boxes of mealworms; some had no scent and some were tainted with the scent of either feral cats or dingoes. While the wild quolls shied away from the predator-scented worms, the island quolls slurped the worms down. The quoll babies in each group showed the same behavior as the adults, suggesting the lost fear response was not learned but had evolved over 13 generations.

perhaps this explains some of the divergence in views on things like borders and race between gated-community elites and their forced-diversity subjects: the first group has lost their fear of natural predators due to being separated from them, ingrained into their DNA over many generations.

Bingo. Substitute “gated community, open borders shilling shitlibs” for “prey animals” and “third world invaders” for “predators” to understand current events at a deeper level than any poli sci grad school automaton.

If optimistic, substitute “MAGA shitlords” for “predators”.

SWPL shitlibs better hope the predator reintroduction to bring balance back to the ecocultural force is comprised of their close genetic kin; there will be no mercy if the predators are the invading species of distant nonWhite tribes.

Funnyman Trump

Trump is very funny. The media will never acknowledge it, but that’s because the media is full of hysterical libs run by the Matzo Mafia who hate Trump and everything he represents. Instead, the media will continue believing the Gay Mulatto was an icon of masculinity.

For the latest example of Trump’s humor, check today’s tweet:

For those who don’t know, Sanford is (yet another) South Carolina GOPe cuck who bucked the trend by having an affair with a woman instead of a poolboy. He disappeared for a while and later surfaced in Argentina with his mistress.

PS More funny stuff from Trump today:

PPS Great comment from elooie on Trump’s negotiating tactics.

It’s funny reading Reddit and seeing how little everyone there understands negotiations and power dynamics. Trump is actually pretty transparent at playing hard ball and he clearly has zero issues walking away from a bad deal.
Some examples:
Putting things that were previously off the table back in play (Taiwan, moving embassy)
Walking away (Iran deal, NK summit, Paris accords, tpp)
Agressive behave with unreasonable asks(cancelling trade with EU, dreamers citizenship)
And finally the most important deployment of US armed forces to the region.

ALL TO MAKE A DEAL.

First rule of power, whoever needs the relationship the least has the power.

Trump is Game
Game is Trump
Shitlibs quail
World Cucks stumped

Alpha Male Vs Beta Cuck

obama bending far enough to bite the pillow.

The Gay Mulatto is the invisible mongrel. He was a cipher during his rule, a vessel into which millions of virtue sniveling shitlib Whites and gibs-envisioning frenzied blacks poured their narcissistic ardor to have it reflected back at them through the rictus of a high yella’s phony fey poise. He will leave no legacy that Trump hasn’t already demolished, he won’t be remembered for anything, he was never cool, and his cultist followers will have only the halo from his onyx numinosity to accompany them to their childfree old age.

Trump makes more history in a day than the Gay Mulatto made in eight years. For that matter, so does Dennis Rodman.

The Groid Void fades from memory already, as a Golden Don splashes the world with high T color again.

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