The Gayest Show On Earth

The circus is a great daytime event to take a girl for a third date. It’s thooper dooper gay, because the performers are very happy and always smiling. The spectators are smiling, the clowns are smiling, everyone is gay and joyous. So fabulously gay! The happy smiling gayness puts your date in a positive upbeat mood, even if the brat sitting next to her got cotton candy in her hair. Plus, it gives you and her plenty to ridicule, including all the kids in the audience on sugar highs, and as we know nothing bonds like shared mockery. Making fun of people has been the catalyst for sexual congress for thousands of generations.

Girls holding hands in the club are circus elephants. The girl in the lead dragging her friends around is the alpha elephant. The fattest elephant was the caboose.

Here are the girls complimenting each other on how good their asses look in those new jeans.

I caught the human cannonball mid-blast. His trajectory and distance reminded me of my jizzbombs. I wished my money shots made the cannon noise.

The guy standing on the elephant is the central circus character. He’s sort of a half-clown, half-Shakespearean tragic figure for the 21st century who pretends to pine for one of the beautiful trapeze artists. His clown makeup was not the scary kind with the big red nose and lips. He just had tall hair and maybe some pastel colored lip gloss which I’m told was poppin’. I read that clown school is more selective than Harvard, so only the best graduate and go on to work for one of the major circus outfits, like Ringling or Cirque du Soleil. It showed. This guy was a Renaissance man, skilled in acrobatics, athletics, fashion, drama, and animal husbandry. My date was ogling him. I began to regret my choice of venue.

There was padding under the high wire. Big letdown. The high wire guy was Latino, the human pyramid balancing act was Chinese, and the lion tamer was East European. Stereotypes R Us.

I like this photo. I caught the tiger in mid diving ass rape. Surprize buttsecks!

I wrote before about planning creative dates if you want to build a stronger emotional bond with a girl. The circus definitely fits that bill, and judging by the number of couples I saw there mixed in with all the families I’m not the only one who follows the wisdom of my words. A good idea for those masochists who are dating lawyers is to bring her to the circus and if she doesn’t crack a smile once or bitches about the uncomfortable seats you can pay off one of the clowns to harass her with animal balloons shaped like overgrown clits.

Aside from its date potential, I was a little disappointed by the whole spectacle. The circus is a major production now, polished, snappy, and fast-paced, all business no heart. Kiosk after kiosk sold cheap plastic trinkets to shovel into the consumerist maw. It wouldn’t be out of place in the Mall of America. There were no monkeys in hats on organ grinders. No animals taking dumps in the middle of the ring. No poop or hay smells. No bearded ladies, tri-breasted midgets, fire breathers, knife throwers, or Siamese twins. I was hoping for the old grimy circuses of yore you always see in the movies; the ones where you could go behind the big tent and catch a few angry looking balding clowns playing a game of poker and drinking gin through crazy straws. Maybe one of them tells you to “Get lost, kid!” and you find yourself backing into the psychic’s tent who curses in Latin and hisses like a snake when she pulls the Goatse card for you.

No such luck. The only freaks there were the PETA protestors. You can blame the fucking lawyers for this.

Preemptive Rejection

One thing that comes with dating a lot of women is an improved ability to detect when her level of enthusiasm isn’t matching yours, and when to cut off investment when the profit outlook is poor. Inexperience and lack of diversification causes a lot of men to hold onto a girl’s stock far longer than is wise, dragging out first dates that should have been cut loose after 15 minutes, or chasing after girls for second dates when the first date ended on a cheek peck note.

But there is another factor. Men, with a few exceptions like very empathetic artist and salesmen types, don’t have the highly refined intuition for gauging subtle social cues that women have from birth. Men’s intuition — or gut instinct — is underdeveloped. Their communication channels between their decision-making process and their subconscious have a lot of static. Women, by contrast, are always locked in to their sixth sense.

There is a reasonable explanation why this is so — as choosers of mates based on criteria less visually based, a woman with a superior sixth sense in terms of accuracy and speediness was fooled less often into bearing the children of beta schemers than a woman who had trouble judging the true character of her suitors. But as relatively indiscriminate chasers of T&A, men never needed to develop the sophisticated bullshit character detector system that serves women so well in separating the weenies from the Shaft. Lunkheaded persistence was more useful to men.

The kind of raw numbers dating experience that modern players have which never existed in the tribal environment that is still the heritage of our hindbrains plays a big role in altering this mating dynamic. A fearless guy who plucks a new woman out of the giant anonymous dating pool of the urban copulation carnival every week starts to get a good sense of his chances of closing the deal. He’ll listen better to his inner voice and cut dates short that aren’t progressing as steadily as he’d like, and he’ll avoid calling a woman for a second date when he feels based on her lackluster vibes from the first date that there’s a higher than average risk of her delaying sex, canceling the date, or taking too long to return his calls. Persistence and chasing women benefits a man less when his options are so numerous. Time and inexperience replaces rejection as his number one enemy.

But like every sea change in human behavior there is an unintended downside. I’m now so finely attuned to the slightest negative feedback from women that I get skittish at the first red flag of foot-dragging. I’ll walk away from dates after ten minutes before the condensation has formed on our drinks if she hasn’t inched closer to me on the couch or if she glanced around the room more than once instead of maintaining solid eye contact. I won’t follow up for a second date even if the first date ended with her telling me to give her a call if I suspect, based on her bad body language, that she will flake.

A woman who is too self-possessed on a first date will not get a call back from me. I need to see real physical and emotional escalation quickly or she drops off the face of the earth in favor of the next girl in my queue. The dating scene is that cutthroat now.

There is no doubt that my improved sixth sense and skittishness to avoid wasting time and resources on dead end dates has cost me girls who might’ve put out had I stayed the course and pursued a little more aggressively. But I believe the downside is worth the greater upside of saving time and headaches and minimizing the odds of a Rules girl exploiting me. Plus, I suffer less second date rejection, which is worse than approach rejection, and my ego stays strong and inflated.

Many times I have run into women at bars or on the street I had one date with but who I never called for a second date because I figured they would flake. They have always looked at me with a hint of discomfort on their faces and walked by muttering terse hellos. I take great satisfaction when this happens because I know that even if the girl never intended to see me again I robbed her of the opportunity to call the shots.

No matter how badly the first date went and how much she doesn’t want to hear from you, if you don’t call a girl for a second date it will leave her confused and less full of herself. You will have lowered her self-esteem and made it easier for the next man to nut inside her. The good karma this selfless act generates will return to you a hundred easy first dates that end the next morning.

Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be

Inner Game

I have a friend who is very self-critical. When we go out to meet girls he will handicap his game by being too hard on himself. When he isn’t weaseling out of approaching girls with every excuse in the book he is projecting an overly attentive vibe when he does manage to enter a set. In the field, I’d often hear him say:

“I wonder if she got my jokes?”

“I hope I didn’t come off as too needy.”

“She’s probably looking for a different type of guy.”

Poor inner game — what is known by other jargon as your state of mind or your self confidence — is inwardly directed. Good inner game is outwardly directed. It’s the difference between berating yourself for not winning over others and berating others for not winning over you. The men who are naturally good with women live outside their minds — they are externally focused. The downside is that they are usually not very introspective, but who cares about that shit when you’re getting pussy? Introspection is for dainty young women in sundresses picking buttercups in meadows.

If my friend had good inner game what he would have said is:

“She loses points for not having a good sense of humor.”

“She’s the kind of girl who hides her insecurity behind aloofness.”

“I’ll chat with her to see if she’s the type of girl I want in my life.”

I hear a lot of talk about how Game routines are going stale, and chicks see right through them. In fact, the problem isn’t typically with the routines, it’s with the confidence and congruence in which they are delivered. If your inner game isn’t solid then what you present to the outside world won’t match what you are feeling inside. Your inner game is reflected through your body language and voice tone, so however clever your routines they will strike a false note if you don’t internalize the confidence you are trying to portray. You will betray yourself with negative thinking.

Fake it till you make it means faking that internal confidence as well as the external behavior. This is not as hard as it sounds. Every time you feel self-doubt and talk yourself into inaction, yell “Stop!” out loud, and your brain will reboot. You then consciously reframe your thought processes to put the burden of approval seeking on those around you. With good inner game you can say just about any ridiculous routine and the girl will be intrigued.

The most important change in thinking you can make:

You are not there to win over women, they are there to win over you.

Keep saying this over and over until you begin to believe it. You are re-wiring yourself. Don’t worry about the truth or falsity of it. That’s irrelevant.

The beauty of this system is that it turns the seduction template on its head. Co-opting a woman’s natural choosiness and making yourself the chooser instead of the chosen is extremely attractive to women. Because it hardly ever happens this way, women will happily strive to win the approval of a man who is clear in his words and his actions that he is judging them for worthiness of his attention, and not the other way around.

What’s Annoying In This Picture?

Take a look at this “man” (and I use the term loosely):

This twee little turd was photographed at the opening of the new Brooklyn Flea market, written about in this New York Times article. The annoyance level of this picture is a 9 on the Prickter scale. There’s so much hideousness to choose from that you’ll have to decide what’s most annoying. Personally, it’s a toss-up between the billowing flowered scarf and the gloves in April.

If you needed one picture to sum up everything that’s wrong with a once great nation, this will do. From the doughy flaccid face begging for a punch to the exquisitely scuffed boots, he’s a pure distillation of decadent pointlessness. An asexual globule of fey excess. A consumerist wastrel. He’s like the anti-Christ of virile manhood: the anti-man. The nearer you get to him, the more testosterone he sucks out of your soul. Ironically, the closer women get to him the more manly they become, probably out of spite. Women tend to take on the characteristics of men when the men in their lives forfeit the job.

Here’s the catch: If he’s straight, I bet he gets laid more than the average straight American man. Why? Because he’s not average. Stepping out of the mainstream, no matter how preposterous, gets a man noticed by women. Most will hate him, some will be indifferent, and a few will love him like a rock star. This equation adds up to more pussy than the average guy can get, since average men are hated by some women and unnoticed by all the rest. A bland average man never starts off with a small but firm base of aroused women.

It’s for this reason I define alpha males as those who can secure the best pussy in the greatest quantities on the most favorable terms. Bowling 300 is an alpha trait, but skipping the bowling competition to violate a hipsterette’s mouth in the back of a coat check of a dingy club is alpha itself.

ps: men should never go to flea markets. are you a gatherer, or a hunter?

pps: whitepeople love postscripts.

Dragon Attack

Take me to the room where the red’s all red
Take me out of my head-‘s what I said yeah
Hey take me to the room where the green’s all green
And from what I’ve seen it’s hot it’s mean

If the Chinese have any sense of humor to accompany their embrace of manifest destiny they’d choose the above as their Olympics theme song. As this article insists, it’s the way things are shaping up for the 21st century.

What would those Victorian masters of old have made of the fact that Chinese security men were on the streets of London this week, ordering our own police about and fighting running battles with British protesters while bewildered athletes carried the Olympic torch on its relay through the capital?

It was a brazen display of how confident China has become of its new place in the world, just as the British Government’s failure to take a firm stand on Chinese abuses of human rights shows how craven we have become.

The West is weak, a willfully beached whale encumbered and suffocating under its own heaving mass, tired of living, growing old, losing faith, conceding surrender to legal and illegal invasions of foreign hordes with not the slightest bit of inclination or desire to assimilate, and I lay the blame for its critical condition and spiritual stupor squarely at the feet of those guilty Western equalists who got the vapors being Number One. The folly of the Iraq War was simply coda to decades of self-evisceration and puling retreat from national pride.

As it builds gleaming skyscrapers on its fields, China alone consumes half the world’s cement and a third of its steel.

What is happening is so extraordinary that economists have had to invent a new word for it – this is not an economic cycle, but a supercycle, a shift in the world economy of historic proportions.

When demand increases and supply stands still, prices shoot up. Iron, wheat and oil are all at record prices, despite slackening demand in the faltering Western economies.

A double whammy. Demand in the West for materials decrease but prices continue to rise on increased demand in China. A weakened economy could at least eventually benefit from a drop in prices due to weakened demand, but now that is denied us. I see a big hurt coming. Stagflation all over again.

China rises on these factors:

• dem asian smarts perfectly suited for the modern visuo-spatial tech economy
• fierce jingoism
• ethnic pride (what in the West would be called racism)
• a collective spirit of predestination
• a complete absence of self-flagellating guilt
• a first instinct not based on fear or apology, but righteous entitlement
• a less tender ethical sensibility

Remind you of countries past?

Yet there is audacious hope on the horizon.

But Western attitudes will change as well, with a likely shift to the political Right. White liberal guilt, the driving force behind political correctness, will subside as Westerners feel threatened by the global order changing, and their supremacy slipping away.

Anti-Americanism will disappear as Europeans realise how much better it was to have a world super power that was a democracy (however flawed) not a dictatorship.

There is even speculation that the intense economic pressure on countries such as Britain will cause them to trim down their bloated welfare state, simply because it will no longer be affordable at present levels.

I used to think that the physical death of the last wheezing remnants of the Boomer generation would be needed to finally slay the PC Eye of Sauron, but now I see that China’s triumph is the X factor that will re-energize American culture. Chinese supremacy may very well turn out to be a blessing in disguise for an anemic West. In the tribulation of real challenge, of growing powerlessness, America has the opportunity to toss off the shackles of navel-gazing self-doubt and deconstructionist -ism wallowing and reclaim a renewed sense of self. I foresee the Chinese Century ushering in a quietly robust Underground American Century marked by its jettisoning of postmodernist nihilistic silliness.

Real loss of power has a way of focusing the mind.

She’s low down
-She don’t take no prisoners
Go down
-Gonna give me the business
No time
-Yeah chained to the rack!
Show time
-Got a dragon on my back
Show down
-Go find another customer
Slow down
-I gotta make my way*

*yeah, i know this song is probably about drugs, but i liked how it worked as a china metaphor as well.

Keeping Your Woman In Line

Back in the day I lived in a group house with three other guys. It was a great time. As men, we really sharpened our joshing in this environment. I mastered the art of the cutting retort.

One of the guys, a physically imposing 6’7″ laid back dude, had a hot girlfriend – let’s call her Kay – with a great personality. She was every guy’s dream girlfriend. One night, all of us were sitting around in the living room splayed across dirty couches watching TV when Kay started gossiping about inconsequential private matters involving her boyfriend and his family. She meant no harm by it, and we weren’t really paying attention, but he obviously didn’t like the idea of her revealing personal details from his life. Out of the blue, he thundered

“SHUT THE FUCK UP KAY!!”

The room fell silent. Kay blushed a bright crimson and sat immobile, looking at him submissively from under her lowered eyes. She didn’t protest or attempt to defend herself. I think all she said was “OK alright” in a mousy half-exasperated, half-apologetic voice. After what seemed like hours but was only 30 seconds, one of us broke the tension by changing the subject to something stupid on TV.

Later that night, I was awoken by a steady thumping noise coming through the walls. It was loud enough to rouse me to investigate. I walked closer to the source of the thump on the other side of the house (this was a very large house) which was reverberating from one of the bedrooms. It sounded like a heavy appliance being dropped. As I neared the bedroom door I heard the unmistakeable grunts, moaning, and shrieks of delight of lovemaking. Mr. Shut The Fuck Up was fucking his girlfriend so hard that the bed frame was lifting off the floor. His thrusting tempo was precise — you could have practiced piano to the metronomic beat of the thumping.

There are a few impressionable moments in a young man’s life that opens his eyes to the true nature of women. This was one of them.

***

Proposition: I challenge my male readers — particularly my beta readers — who have girlfriends to an asshole experiment. When your GF makes you genuinely angry I want you to yell at her “SHUT THE FUCK UP”. Credibility will be added if you do it in public. This will be tough for you to do, but my presence will be with you, like the unholy spirit. Visualize your balls physically growing larger when she says something that pisses you off.

Email me the results of this experiment, good or bad. What did she say/do? Did you back down or stand by your words? Did you break up or did you have the best sex of your lives afterward? For those of you who have already yelled like this to your girlfriends, your memory of the event will be accepted for consideration. After I have received a number of responses, I will put up a post in the future quoting each contributing reader’s experience. You will be credited for your bravery in the pursuit of truth and understanding.

I believe some of you will become intoxicated by the power of asshole.

PS: They got happily married.