1950s Patriarchy Game

This kind of whimsical role playing is tingle dynamite! From marc,

I took my girl (23 year difference) to a nice but casual Italian restaurant in the heart of left-wing university town. I told her we were in the 1950’s and she was not allowed to talk to the waiter. I would order for her and answer any questions put to her. We had a blast! Waiter had no idea what to do with us.

A soyboy would never do this because a soyboy is cowardly. And that is why a soyboy fails.

Trump’s 2020 Reelection Is Not A Given

I’m not a black piller by any stretch, but it’s useful to read smart, iconoclastic black pill takes on Trump’s presidency to date, by people who have an affinity for Trumpism. Too much optimism or cheerleading can trap one into a dangerous complacency.

Complacency can lead to terrible outcomes like this one described by Butch Deadlift:

It’s not clear that the GOPe really minds a Dem wave in 2018.

They can win by losing, blame Trump-ism, claim it was tested and found to be unpopular, and that we need a Rubio-like candidate to win. Create ambiguity.

Meanwhile the Demographic clock is ticking.

Trump-ism needed a smart strategy to avoid this fate, doesn’t seem forthcoming.

Too much blind faith in Trump risks election losses that feed Uniparty delusions and will mean the next Trump, if he comes, won’t just chip away at the status quo. He’ll swing a sledgehammer.

So a little black pill every now and then helps unclog egoistic gunk. Just don’t get addicted to the pessimistic thrill. Not all black pills are created equal. Mendo had the best take on Black Pill taxonomy:

There are “the sky is falling” black pills and then there are “let me question some things” black pills.

Then again there are “ain’t I a-stinker” black pills, some of whom just love to post dour shit.

On the topic of reasonable skeptic black pills, Agnostic has been a good source (until recently…he too seems to have succumbed to the siren call of black pill overdosing). For instance, I don’t endorse this latest Agnostic thesis (too glib with the historical comparisons), but it’s interesting nonetheless: Is Trump the new Carter, and Bernie the next Reagan?

The triumph of the pure examples of the new zeitgeist will come as vindication to candidates who had previously run in their party’s primary (and when it was incumbent) but lost to a business-as-usual candidate. Reagan ran in the ’76 primary but lost to conventional Ford, and Bernie ran in the ’16 primary but lost to conventional Hillary. They were both just a little bit ahead of their time.

Why doesn’t the natural party for the new zeitgeist go with it right away? Probably because a major change is more likely to come from a party that is more desperate for a win, especially its voters. They’re more willing to take a high-risk high-reward gamble — Democrats on Carter in ’76, and Republicans on Trump in ’16. After being jolted awake from their laurel-resting complacency by these shock victories, the more natural party learns which way the winds are clearly blowing, and takes over its comparative advantage issue.

[…]

Like Carter — or at least, Carter’s administration — Trump, or at least his administration, will probably be remembered as one of the worst due to the schizophrenia, paralysis, and general malaise that comes during the necessary initial shifting of gears during re-alignment. Neither will get credit from the general public for giving the first push in the new direction, although historians will point that out.

Agnostic analyzes elections from a traditional economics angle. Who votes for whom is based entirely on personal economic well-being. The problem with this analytical premise is that it can miss big paradigmatic shifts in electorate behavior.

Polls and quadrennial elections are largely unaffected by slow demographic change, and therefore can be successfully analyzed from a purely “economic self-interest” angle even as demography (aka racial electoral power) churns the electorate from underneath. But eventually demographic tsunamis smash the old algorithms to smithereens. What worth is the White working class vote when Whites are a minority and US politics has descended into a third world theater of tribal gibs-jockeying?

Will Bernie win in 2020? The possibility is not remote, and Trump supporters should act now to prevent the election of a soft-headed commie with a love for open borders and Diversity that he got far away from when he moved to Vermont.

Bernie will be 79 by 2020, but I’ve no doubt that Trump fears a Bernie candidacy more than any other opponent. Trump has internals; he must know that Bernie eats into Trump’s White working class base like no other Dem. Thecunt won’t be around then to steal the nom from exotic sports car-driving Bernie. (she’ll be in jail)

All of which is to say, if Trump wants a second term, he had better get back to fulfilling his populist campaign promises instead of gloating over a tax cut and a roaring (for now) stock market. The afterglow of these old school conservative GOP initiatives has left Trump’s base muttering “meh”.

The reason a booming stock market (or for that matter a booming economy) doesn’t galvanize Trump’s support beyond his base to include independents and party-switching Dems is because the US has bifurcated into a dual economy. Forty years of stagnant wages and insane housing costs should have been a wake up call to CoC Congressional Republicans.

This is where Bernie, or a Bernie clone, can chip away at Trump’s support and win in 2020.

Bernie’s actual policy proposals are dumb as shit commie prescriptions like “free education for everyone”, but he talks a storm about fat cats and corporate malfeasance, and does so with apparent sincerity, so that alone will call back those White gaymulatto-voting Dems from their flirtation with Trump.

The risk of a Bernie-populist Dem winning in 2020 is that it’s a devil’s bargain that could sufficiently dupe the White working class into switching over from Trump and not realizing that the torn-up trade deals, tariffs, antitrust, and higher taxes on the wealthy come included with a poison pill: open borders and amnesty.

The counter to this scenario is that it’s a new era of White wokeness, and the White working class won’t nominate a populist from either party who wasn’t loudly opposed to mass shitholie immigration. Bernie would have to do a 180 — or rather a 360, back to the views he had before the BernieBro era — on immigration and borders to reinvigorate his chances in 2020.

Addendum: Take Agnostic’s black pilling with a dash of salt. As with all aggro-contrarians of Agnostic’s strand (hi pman!), you take the insight with the petulant refusal to vacate dead end lines of thought. (His “conservatives are cat people, liberals are dog people” was his most inane theory to date, and perfectly illustrates how try-hard he is about bucking conventional wisdom.) Agnostic is deep in his own kool-aid when he isn’t even giving a perfunctory nod to the obvious shitlib fanfiction that is Wolff’s book. FFS some of (((Wolff’s))) passages read like blue tickmark Twatter timelines of deranged conspiratorial celebs. All Agnostic has to do is listen to recent gloats by Wolff that he wished his book would “take down President Trump” to know that most of the book’s content is low grade lib wish fulfillment.

(Why Trump let that slimy reptile anywhere near the White House is a mystery for the ages. One look at Wolff’s liver-lipped physiognomy is enough to convince anyone with working vision to keep him at a million arms’ length.)

***

There’s plenty of time before the 2020 election, so here’s a ray of hope for shitlibs on the brink of a mental breakdown from all of Trump’s winning:

Keep Whimsy Alive

I was holding glans with a girl as we sidewalked past a precious vintage wig boutique. Instinctively, and perhaps subconsciously motivated by a suddenly retrieved pleasant memory of this girl, I steered my accomplice into the wig shop and bought a pair of cheapo matching wigs (styled after REDACTED), on the condition that we both would have to wear the wigs for the rest of the day (and night) without giving our game away to anyone who asked us about our wigly appearance.

The idea was that we’d play it straight, as if the wigs were our naturally matching hair textures and colors, sincerely questioning the confusion of those who’d wonder about the sight of us, and in the suppressed comedy of our little two-character play a rush of sexual frisson would lube our bonding time.

I know this nurtured playfulness sounds like an awful chore to a lot of men, but a couple facts you should keep with you: one, what would be a bore to do alone is a lot of fun with a partner in crime and two, when you see that doggy dinner bowl look that a girl gives you as you sweep her into your flight of fancy you’ll learn to love the power of your whimsy over women.

Chicks dig playful men, of all ages. Maybe it’s because there aren’t many playful men, so the few who do exist are noticed by women. I think instead it’s that women are the playful sex, and they feel a stronger connection to men who can not just match their playfulness but surprise them with their own. Evolutionarily, there is likely a sexual selection effect in women for whimsical men because whimsy reveals a creative mind, and male creativity is a secondary sex characteristic no less alluring to women than strong pecs and a square jaw.

Older men reading here should try hard to be more whimsical. You can be playful with masculine verve too; whimsy is not only the domain of effete artist types. Unfortunately for the mediocre masses of beta males, whimsy and energy are the two traits that rapidly and mercilessly decline with age, until a man’s personality and passion are a shrunken relic of his former pussy-parting glory. But for those men who can keep their energy level up and their whimsy performance-tuned, they will find that younger women will barely blink an eye at the thought of dating them.

Conman O’Brien

Conan O’Brien, caught in the vapors of a major virtue signaling attack, went to Haiti for a three-day show special to troll Trump about his labeling Haiti a “shithole”, and to morally preen before his un-vast audience of soy-saturated snarklibs. Oh, and to blatantly lie about his real opinion of Haiti.

What followed was an epic self-own and the germination of a new 4chan meme: #ConanHaiti featuring Conan’s coconut mug drinking face ‘shopped into photos of the real Haiti that liberal Whiteys sticking to the designated tourist area don’t (want to) see.

First, the self-ownage in the photo Conman O’Brien posted ostensibly to needle Trump and his Heritage America Army.

You’ll notice in the background that, outside of the swanky resort perimeter Conman was staying at, the hills of Haiti are completely denuded of leafy vegetation. That’s because the local shitholies burnt everything for firewood and let their pigs and goats roam free to reproduce past the ecology’s carrying capacity.

Also, that coconut he’s drinking from likely was imported from an island that still has coconut trees. And why is his hair dry? Poseur, much?

Conman was staying at the Wahoo Bay Beach Resort, a heavily guarded and patrolled tourist trap that the average Haitian would love to rob blind and machete to death the pale guests if they could get past the locked and loaded security.

He was at one of the finest resorts in Haiti, the rates for which are $254 a night, which is a very a hefty price for a country where the average person makes a little over $400 a year.

Conman’s virtue snivel was so egregious that shitlords brought the meme magic with a fury. Incoming!…

As soon as establishment comedians give in to the urge to toe the shitlib line, they stop being funny. Sanctimony was meant to be mocked by comedians, not adopted as a central theme of their act.

This is why we on the Maul-Right are winning. We’re the mockers, now. And the libs are the mocked. Only good things can come from this cultural realignment. Good things…..like, oh, Truth and Beauty.

Generation Zyklon Goes International

This is heartening. A Dutch kid with impeccable shitlord physiognomy trolled a news reporter in the field with the OK sign which, if you hadn’t known, is now the internationally recognized symbol of not hating your White heritage. (According to CNN sources, the OK sign is three fingers for the letter ‘W’ and the thumb and forefinger in a circle to make the letter ‘P’, giving us “W”hite “P”ower. I shit you not, I first heard this explanation from CNN.)

Here’s the story in Dutch, for anyone who’d like to translate for the rest.

The reader who sent the vid adds,

Not a single fuck given, except for the future of his people. Generation Zyklon will be a thing to behold.

And the Chateau will be there, center seat front row, when the Zyklon hits the fan. Pass the popcorn.

PS The beauty of these guerrilla tactics is that they leave the unnerving impression in the Leftoid Establishment that there are far more Woke Whitelords than polls or life in their lib insular bubbles reveal to them. Libs now walk around wondering if every second White Man they see is a secret believer in the cleansing power of DOTR.

The Reformed Male Feminist

A Student of the Game writes about his journey from LSMV male feminism to normal SMV masculine sexism,

I spent the better/worse part of a decade of my 20’s and 30’s entrenched in radical left politics before I got redpilled. In college I was a member of the campus National Organization for Women. That’s how bad it was. I was constantly around women. A small fraction of them were hot. I didn’t do it to get laid, or at least that’s what I thought consciously. I did it because I sincerely thought I was being a good person. I never got laid, at least not through those avenues. I touted my virtue-signalling bona fides, my ‘street cred’ on every date but didn’t have the calibration to realize virtue signalling turned pussy away like halitosis. It was only when I got into game that I began to realize everything was a lie. Women weren’t these holy angels who were superior to us evil men oppressing them. They were worse in a lot of ways. And treating them worse made them want to fuck me. For years I tried to hold on to both lefty ideals and game but the shit pouring out of women’s mouths was too far from the obvious truth about what attracted them and what made both of us happy in relationships.

The Chateau Maxim you should never leave home without:

DON’T LISTEN TO WHAT WOMEN SAY; WATCH WHAT THEY DO.

For reasons expounded on at length here, women have evolved a need to actively fool men about their true sexual natures, and woe to the man who takes women at their words. But the man who watches closely WHOM women fuck, HOW women autonomically react around different men, and WHY women choose some men over others, is the man blessed with women’s love. For he has broken the ho code, which is, “omg this guy really gets me!”. Commence splooging.

The reformed male feminist did not go gently into that White Knight….he’s seen things he would never have believed. Erect clits like spires off the tip of his tongue. He watched cunts gleam and flitter in the dark near the Bangmaster gate. All those moments will have opened his mind….like same night lays…..from behind.

Some of the most ruthless, cunning, and irresistible womanizers are those men who were former white knight-slash-male feminist dupes schooled in the self-abnegating art of parroting shrew boilerplate, before an epiphany — typically one summoned by accidental jerkboy success with a woman assumed to be an inviolable member of the oppressed — WOKE them in an instant to the true shape that desire takes in women.

There is no virtue signaling in the wench trenches. There is only jerkboy signaling.

***

Tipsy had a great line,

Virtue signalling is not virile signalling.

Virility signaling will save the West.

The Virgin Tea Candle Vs The Chad Tiki Torch

Pic from the weekend’s Termagant March (h/t @BGKB):

That’s a tiny candle. (Note: not even a real flame; an LED safe space so his soft fingertips don’t get unsightly masculine callouses.)

The shitlib male feminist is a vehicle for self-emasculation. He prides himself on his low, low T level, his upside-down biceps, his unisex problem glasses, and his daily online porn habit which supplements his time prostrating himself as a beta male orbiter to aggrocunt bluehair chubsters.

He is a loathsome creature, and he knows it, figuring that his only shot at LSMV pussy will come if he surrenders entirely to effeminacy and androgyny and tells the pussyhat crowd what they want to hear; little does he know this strategy rarely works, and when it does work, the reward is hardly worth the effort. Even ugly feminists are repulsed by the tiny tea candle soyboy’s retreat from masculinity, but it’s not like the femcunts have the goods themselves to score a Chad. So these defects of nature manage somehow to find each other for miserable passionless androgyne hookups which they immediately regret and try to salvage by spinning the awful experiences into #MeToo attention whoring.