Obama Wants A Manly Dog

Reading this interview snippet between Obama and Barbara Walters gives me hope that he will have the sack to face down the Russians, who are at the moment giddily trying to reconstitute Cold War II:

Obma: “What is a Havanese?”

Barbara Walters: “It’s like a little terrier and they’re non-allergenic and they’re the sweetest dogs..”

O: [Face suddenly changes.] “It’s like a little yappy dog?”

Michelle: “Don’t criticize.”

O: “It, like, sits in your lap and things?”

M: “It’s a cute dog.”

O: “It sounds kinda like a girly dog.”

M: “We’re girls. We have a houseful of girls.”

O [with hand gestures]: “We’re going to have a big rambunctious dog, of some sort.”

If Obama were to choose a dog like this… or this… America would be the laughingstock of the world (except in Sweden, where men sit to pee). The Russians would be parking nukes on barges within spitting distance of Myrtle Beach. Blessedly, Obama shows sparks of alphatude completely at odds with his citizen of the world cosmopolitan leftism.

I bet if George W. Bush had said he doesn’t want a “girly dog”, the liberal media would have gone apeshit chastising him for his Neanderthal sexist and species-ist views. The feminists would have ripped off their breasts shrieking a battle cry to the heavens. But Obama gets a pass. The commenters at Huffington Post are sharing in his big dog love. More proof that lefties should never be taken seriously.

Happy Thanksgiving

How To Screw Up A Date

I’ve received inside info about a second date gone bad from a female party who shall remain anonymous. I post it here to illustrate for the men reading what *not* to do on a date. I found the scenario described by Anonymous Girl a textbook example of the egregious dating fouls committed by the typical beta.

******

Had my second date last night. we had a lovely dinner, good conversation, albeit he seemed a bit manic to get his points across.

I can’t believe in this day and age there are still guys who take girls out on dinner dates. Please. Dinner is what your girlfriend cooks you. If you’re stuffing food in your mouth, you’re not charming her with your words or tonguing her down. Dinner dates = contrived ambience = uncomfortable pressure = killing the sexy vibe. And speaking with urgency is a major beta giveaway. Betas seeking approval always try to cram as many of their thoughts into a conversation as possible, hoping that one of the conversational threads and/or embarrassing personal vignettes will impress the girl and lead to intimacy. Frantic speed talking = beta. Slow laconic conversation where every word has the weight of an advancing glacier = alpha.

as the night wore on, i had trouble taking him seriously. he has 3 [dorky types of clothing] he writes about on fbook, he joked they were bigger than obama. he wore one last night. i know it’s a joke, but he is vain.

pretty quickly, his [occupational] addiction/cliquey [occupation] thing began grating on my nerves. he insisted on making a phone call outside the restaurant, he believes it’s a cardinal sin to do it in the restaurant. he had thoughtfully made reservations at another restaurant in case this one was full but then made a point of telling me how appreciative the other place was when he cancelled the reservation. ??

I’ve included this bit to show you how many hoops a girl expects a man to jump through, without his knowing ahead of time just what those hoops entail. This is an elaborate stained-glass window into the mental 463 bullet point checklist that girls carry with them every time they meet a potential suitor. As men, we hardly comprehend this need of women to judge every insignificant and irrelevant detail, and thinking too hard about this will cause great internal confusion and manifest as a terrible neediness to “win her over” on dates.

While the actions of the guy above aren’t the stuff of 100% coolness, viewed in the proper perspective he didn’t do anything that would warrant expulsion from the society of normal human beings. This makes a lot of guys resentful of women and their fickle standards. Forget about it. The good news: If you run tight game, you don’t have to worry about meeting her bullet points. She’ll excuse away minor idiosyncracies as long as you are turning her on.

when the charcuterie plate arrived heaped with blood sausage and other alien delicacies like broccoli/cauliflower hybrids he whispered, ‘and so it begins’ in my ear and kissed my hair, nauseating.

And then there are the non-minor idiosyncracies. I can’t believe a guy can make it through decades of life and not know this would creep out a woman. Leaning in after the blood sausage arrives and whispering “and so it begins” in her ear while kissing her hair is not sexy, though I bet he concocted this putatively James Bond-esque scenario in his head in a thrill of devilish gusto and was eager to try it out in real life.

Timing: Lesser Beta.
Execution: Greater Omega.
Intent: Greater Beta.

I do give him points for boldness, however maladroit.

last night he took his glasses off and was sort of slouching in the booth – i think he was trying to cue me to do something.

Funny. A lot of guys think slouching is sexy, that it highlights the aloofness girls love so much. More often than not, slouching shows a guy who can’t sit up straight. If you’ve already established your alpha cred, you can slouch and seem coolly unperturbed. If you’re in betaland, your slouching will look like the posture of a broken, dispirited man. If he was attempting to nonverbally signal readiness for a BJ, slouching is a half-assed way to go about it. I recommend approaching naked, fully erect, a few inches from her face until she goes cross-eyed. Preferably in a crowded restaurant.

i put my fur on and said i had to go home, work tomorrow. by now there was something vaguely passive aggressive in the air that really spurred me on to think of myself. i payed for half the meal. now i wonder: if i had been more physical, would he have payed for the entirety?

When betas feel sexually thwarted it comes out as passive aggressive weakness. An alpha knows to keep a cool head and refrain from letting his frustration bubble to the surface, where it can poison any future possibility of his date setting him up with one of her hottie friends.

It’s interesting to note that girls make the connection between money and physical escalation. Lesson: Flip the script. If you pay for a girl’s drinks, don’t push her for the kiss. And vice versa: If she gets physical with you, don’t start paying for her drinks as reward. Conspicuous enticement is anhedonic.

when we got outside he said, ‘do you mind?’ standing like four feet away from me. i’m like, ‘do you mind what?’ he kissed me, big warm kiss. it was all of 2 seconds. he lept back and complained that it was like a ’17th century kiss’ – and on and on about how bad it was. i gave him a pity hug and hailed a cab with the other arm. he murmured something about liking my fur. it actually really hurt my feelings. his civility ended in the restaurant and then he pulled the claws out. way too much insecurity for a second date.

“it actually really hurt my feelings.” Negs work!

It just goes to show how even ostensibly smart guys can have zero concept of game.  “Do you mind?”?!?  Oh no that won’t do.  Major DLV.  *IF* a man is going to ask for a kiss, the term of art is “would you like to kiss me”, a la Mystery style.  Then you have your followup answers ready: If she says “yes”, go for it.  “Maybe”, say “Let’s find out” and go for it.  “No”, say “Well, I didn’t say you COULD. You just had that look on your face.”

But the kiss question is moot. It’s best to simply lean in when the moment is right and bust a move. No words exchanged.

As if the hole wasn’t deep enough, the guy emailed her the next morning to fully display for public humiliation and my wicked amusement whatever shreds of betatude he neglected to air out during the date.

Him: That had to be the worst kiss ever.  I give it my lowest rating; one star, plus a thumbs down. Still, for the sake of my ego (which is not too enthusiastic about sexual rejection), the chaste kiss is better than getting the cheek. Nevertheless, I had fun.  I think you are trill.

This is straight out of cocky/funny game. Except he did it all wrong. You’re not supposed to tell the girl her kiss was terrible, you’re supposed to rate it a “7, but i think with practice you could get up to an 8, or a 9 even”. And you have to do it in person, with a sly grin, not over email the next morning when the moment has long passed! What an amateur. Then he lowered his value further by admitting he was sexually rejected.

Maxim #75: If you get sexually rejected, don’t admit it to yourself, and especially don’t admit it to the girl.

And what does ‘trill’ mean? Sounds vaguely LARPer-ish.

Back to Anonymous Girl:

he hurt my feelings. i emailed him back – told him i’m not a restaurant and that he should ‘work it out.’ i guess these are the perils of the dating world! what a weirdo.

ps it should be noted i was complimentary throughout the entire evening, on the shirt, the restaurant, his writing, his family sagas…i guess he could smell that i wasn’t INTO him though and decided to dive bomb the entire experience in retaliation — gay.

Divebombing is the spurned id unleashed. Closers can afford to divebomb; betas cannot. If you sense that your date isn’t INTO you, then the best thing to do is say you had a nice time, wish her good luck finding someone, and leave. Don’t make a production out of it. Expressively minimalist is the alpha way when handling rejection. Vengeance is ecstatically thrilling from a position of power, but cringingly self-defeating from the vantage point of a cornered pig ego-pricked and bleeding beta all over the ground.

Strategically, I have a hard time blaming this guy for the failure of this courtship. There were other forces he was unaware of that conspired against his succeeding. Tactically, though, he was a complete fuck-up. His is the classic case of a congenital beta overreaching in a spazzy attempt at grasping the alpha mantle, landing a flurry of off-target blows, only to dissolve in a mudpuddle of piglet squeals when things didn’t go his way.

Visualizing Omega

In my “Defining the Alpha Male” post, I described the detritus of malehood:

Lesser Omega, [Can only get] 0s and 1s, Will never feel love; can’t keep a girl longer than 3 days, Dry spells > 5 years.

I’ve already taken you on journeys exploring the vast wastelands of the beta universe, but that was child’s play. It’s time to pull back the curtain on the shambling mounds and wretched creatures who walk among us; the monsters who inhabit the far FAR left tail of the human bell curve.

Behold, the OMEGA:

When this is the best you can do, you are a lesser omega. You aren’t at the lowest level of dreg because you haven’t dropped out of society entirely and are able, however nauseatingly, to propagate your genes. But really, why would you condemn your future ugly children to a lifetime of misery and self-loathing? The compassionate thing to do would be to refrain from reproducing.

Notice the telltale omega traits (besides his choice of mate): Lowered gaze, meek countenance, leaning into his beastly wife, feeble self-conscious smile, dumbo ears, weak chin and jawline, beady eyes. Yes, he’s in the military, but that is no guarantee of high(er) status. The bottom of the barrel often embrace the soldier’s life because it offers the only chance to raise their value. They risk death as cannon fodder for a shot at respectability. If they’re lucky, they might even return home to a hero’s welcome.

Look at the faces on the groomsmen… abject defeat. Public humiliation. Despair for their unlucky buddy. Disgust. Even the little boy knows what a bunch of losers have gathered here today. The ability to discern a human status hierarchy is ingrained from birth. And they are likely pissed that the bridesmaids are too grotesque to tap.

The brideshogs look a little less morose, probably because they understand that their less-human-than-human hogzilla sister has gotten the better end of the deal by the very fact that she managed to find a man, however pathetic, who would be willing to dump a fuck in her flabby porcine hole.

62% of American women are overweight, with no end in sight to the disfiguration of their most precious resource. They live in towns like Ninety-Six, South Carolina (yes, real name). They have no self-discipline, eating until they explode like Mr. Creosote. Is it any wonder American men with the means are choosing to meet women overseas? When more than half the women in your country have removed themselves as dating prospects, the fuckable ones in the minority raise their asking price through the roof. It’s a vicious predicament.

If you were forced at gunpoint to have sexual relations with one of these women, who would you choose, and how would you do it? The couch crease never looked so sexy.

Sloping brow lardo and inbred omega nerdo in love. Possibly they are both borderline retarded. Ugliness and stupidity correlate. No one wants to look at people like this in the office, so they will probably work at jobs in coal mines or sewage treatment plants where they don’t pollute anyone’s vista. It’s time to end all public support so the genetic lines of the omegas dies out. It’s nature’s way to cull the weak and ugly. Without the cull, the degenerate freaks reproduce, dragging the rest of humanity with them (or chasing them off into gated communities with armed guards). The modern welfare state is responsible for the coming Idiocracy. It was preordained.

You can see the rest of the pictures at this forum, and the hilarious comments in response. The groom even has a Myspace page, so it’s the real deal.

Could this lesser omega have done better with game? Yes. In fact, for a guy this ugly, dorky and meek-looking, game will be especially effective. He can go from getting crushed underneath a heap of garbage during rutting to banging non-hideous 3s and 4s. Nothing short of Steve Buscemi level fame or vast wealth will raise his sexual market value, so the only self-improvement technique at his disposal is game.

I have to think there is no way this guy can get it up for her, no matter how horny or lonely. Below some mininum female ugliness floor, every penis becomes operationally flaccid. Ugly men and good-looking men get turned on by the same hot women, just like fat men and slim men want the same slender chicks. The packaging may change, but the brain remains the same.

While there is room to settle, I think past some ugly threshold a man looks at a pseudo-woman and regardless how motivated he is by the bounty of pity in his heart and horniness in his groin, his junk isn’t going to respond. Turning the lights off doesn’t always help. If she’s fat enough, you’ll hear her blubbery hideousness bumping into furniture and pulling the sheets off the bed. You’ll sink into her cheesy folds. You’ll listen to her grunts and wheezes as she goes down on you. You’ll have to sandblast the dingleberries out of her crack before doing her from behind. Dumpster dive deep enough, and you may as well be doing a man.

If this guy leaves her and decides it makes more sense to drop a few bucks and satisfy himself with a skanky street hooker, he will actually bump himself up from lesser omega to omega. As a man, there is such a thing as ranking lower than a celibate virgin — boffing a monstrous seacow will push you below a man whose only sexual outlet is porn.

Dating In The City: A Series

Time for another colonoscopic glimpse into the fetid bowels of the urban dating scene. This city provides enough material for a book.

Damian: I had a second date with that cute 25 year old chick I was telling you about.

Me: Yeah? How’d this one go?

Damian: After we warmed up a bit, she started talking about the incredible amount of sex she had in high school and college. All the guys she banged and the crazy sex acts she performed, threesomes, public sex, etc. She said she’s pretty sure she was a nympho at age seventeen.

Me: Uh oh. Bad sign.

Damian: Right. That’s what I was thinking. As I’m getting more disgusted and aroused simultaneously, she leans in and tells me “Just to let you know, you shouldn’t bother making a move. You won’t get anywhere. I changed my ways. I’m not going to have sex until I’m married.”

Me: Unbelievable. Is every girl in this city a headcase? Maybe she converted to an orthodox religion or something.

Damian: No, she’s not religious. After she drops that bomb, I stared at her for a few seconds, flabbergasted. There was tension. Then I said “Are you fucking crazy? What makes you think you can pull this shit on a quality guy like myself?” I was pissed.

Me: Wow. So I guess that was it, eh?

Damian: Not yet. She starts tearing up a little. I stand up and tell her I’m going. She asks me if I’m going to get a drink. I say no, I’m leaving. She asks if I’m going home. I say no, I’m not going home, I’m going to a bar to meet up with friends, the night is still young.

Me: I love how she imagines you will go home, alone, with your tail tucked between your legs.

Damian: I put on my coat, wish her good luck on finding someone, and leave. I cross the street and look back… I can see the chairs we were sitting on through the window of the lounge, and she’s still sitting there, holding her drink. This broad drove an hour from out of town to meet me in the city, she clearly went out of her way, she was interested… so I have to ask what’s going through her mind when she tells me sex is off the table? She must be used to dating the herbliest of Herbs who meekly accepted her terms.

Me: The irony here is that she was probably never more turned on than right at that moment when you called her out on her shit. I bet that’s the first time she got wet since she became a born again virgin.

Damian: On the plus side I’m five for five getting girls to drive out of their way to meet me near my place.

Unconditional Love

Write your own caption.

The Great Global Warming Swindle

The fix is in:

A surreal scientific blunder last week raised a huge question mark about the temperature records that underpin the worldwide alarm over global warming. On Monday, Nasa’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies (GISS), which is run by Al Gore’s chief scientific ally, Dr James Hansen, and is one of four bodies responsible for monitoring global temperatures, announced that last month was the hottest October on record.

This was startling. Across the world there were reports of unseasonal snow and plummeting temperatures last month, from the American Great Plains to China, and from the Alps to New Zealand. China’s official news agency reported that Tibet had suffered its “worst snowstorm ever”. In the US, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration registered 63 local snowfall records and 115 lowest-ever temperatures for the month, and ranked it as only the 70th-warmest October in 114 years.

So what explained the anomaly? GISS’s computerised temperature maps seemed to show readings across a large part of Russia had been up to 10 degrees higher than normal. But when expert readers of the two leading warming-sceptic blogs, Watts Up With That and Climate Audit, began detailed analysis of the GISS data they made an astonishing discovery. The reason for the freak figures was that scores of temperature records from Russia and elsewhere were not based on October readings at all. Figures from the previous month had simply been carried over and repeated two months running.

It’s easier to let these kinds of errors slip through the quality assurance process when you are ideologically invested in a specific outcome — namely, human induced catastrophic warming.

A GISS spokesman lamely explained that the reason for the error in the Russian figures was that they were obtained from another body, and that GISS did not have resources to exercise proper quality control over the data it was supplied with. This is an astonishing admission: the figures published by Dr Hansen’s institute are not only one of the four data sets that the UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) relies on to promote its case for global warming, but they are the most widely quoted, since they consistently show higher temperatures than the others.

If there is one scientist more responsible than any other for the alarm over global warming it is Dr Hansen, who set the whole scare in train back in 1988 with his testimony to a US Senate committee chaired by Al Gore. Again and again, Dr Hansen has been to the fore in making extreme claims over the dangers of climate change. (He was recently in the news here for supporting the Greenpeace activists acquitted of criminally damaging a coal-fired power station in Kent, on the grounds that the harm done to the planet by a new power station would far outweigh any damage they had done themselves.)

Yet last week’s latest episode is far from the first time Dr Hansen’s methodology has been called in question. In 2007 he was forced by Mr Watts and Mr McIntyre to revise his published figures for US surface temperatures, to show that the hottest decade of the 20th century was not the 1990s, as he had claimed, but the 1930s.

Cult leader Dr. Hansen should be fired. He is clearly too emotionally wedded to the religion substitute of global warming. Unlike journalists who aren’t held accountable by peer review, scientists live and die by their objectivity. Hansen has discredited himself. Anyone who believes scientists can’t be tainted by bias or corruption has a weak grasp of the constancy of human nature. Science is humanity’s Savior. I don’t want false prophets like Hansen as representatives of our last, best hope.

I predict that in ten or twenty years when the dust has settled and the truth of AGW gets a more reasonable hearing than it has to date, we will look back on this sorry episode as one of the greatest attempted swindles ever foisted by the global elite on the masses. I also predict that all those End Times leftists who embarrassingly swooned in apocalyptic fervor for the clarion call of cataclysmic global warming and ritually embraced it like a Sacramental Rite will pretend as if their lies never happened, and simply move on to their next self-congratulatory save-the-world cause du jour. And the media, of course, being hopelessly lost as a respectable institution of high-minded journalistic integrity, will enable them to evade public humiliation.

I read that the personality trait “openness to experience” correlates strongly with people of a certain political persuasion. It’s a nice personality trait to have. I have some of it myself. But there can be too much of a good thing. Armageddonationist global warming cultists are what happens when people are a little *too* open to new ideas.