A bit of disambiguation: When I speak of fat women in the following article, my referent is not the busy mother-of-three, who has packed on an extra ten pounds in her tits and ass. That is normal, and often her husband will find her attractive that way. I’m talking about the bitches that look more like pigs than human beings. We’ve all seen them. They swamp our streets and ooze into our airline seats. These bitches are not only as wide as they are tall, but they often have weird, extraneous pouches of blubber, hanging off their legs and arms, in random locations.

The tendency to date fat women seems to be approaching critical mass. It is a common sight, where I live, to see a moderately fit, good-looking dude, with a BBW whale in tow. Our feminist enemies will tell us we are horrible for body-shaming, and that women are beautiful regardless of their size. Not only is this not true, but it is particularly deceptive in that it seems that it ought to be true. We intuitively sympathize with these unfortunates, and think that we ought to be fair to these people. That message is constantly reinforced by mass-media, which blares that beauty is “only skin deep.”

Beauty is not “only skin deep.” In the vast majority of cases, being morbidly obese is a problem with the mind, rather than some sort of “glandular” problem. The real danger in dating such a beast becomes obvious, when one accepts the underlying motivations for a woman to cause her body to take on such robust girth, such monstrous proportions. This sort of piggish fatness is, in fact, positively correlated with incurable mental problems. Morbid obesity is commonly comorbid with borderline personality disorder, for instance. It is also a strong marker of an eating disorder, like bulimia. Where you see a grotesque, you see a broken soul, inhabiting a captive corpse, in the process of self-destruction.

A marriage, or similar meretricious relationship, is a symbiotic relationship by definition. If you are providing for a woman, then it is reasonable that she should provide equal value in return. This means that if one partner goes out and works all day, the other person ought to keep house. If one partner is spending most of his time on the relationship, then the other partner ought to chip in with some nights out and some money in trade. Specifically, if you keep yourself in reasonable shape, it is unreasonable for her to devolve into a human-walrus hybrid.

The next time you’re at your local shopping mall, sit down and watch the couples stroll past. If you wait long enough, you’ll see a blonde guy with a crew cut, who looks like he could be straight out of GQ magazine, and he’ll be trailing behind some big ugly dog who looks like a character in a horror film. It is not only white dudes who are falling for this con, either. Check out a fair number of black men who dress professionally, look good and keep themselves in reasonable shape, and at least one of them will be saddled with a huge beast of a woman, who looks like she cleans out Golden Corral on a regular basis.

The most poisonous bit of irony in this feminist propaganda is that fat women know they are utterly repellent, and instinctively look down on their men for settling for their crap. Men like the ones described above commonly take an excessive amount of abuse for being the decent men that they are, and looking past the exterior, in an attempt to find some morsel of goodness in their blubbery interests. The women instinctively assume that such men are losers, who are only dating them because they can’t do any better, which usually couldn’t be further from the truth.

Fat women are unacceptable. Avoid them at all costs.

This is what happens to a wimminz who bears a bastard, sired by any one of a number of random badboys, at the ripe-old age of eighteen.

Just before her twenty-ninth birthday, Janice finds herself on PoF, with an increasingly unruly ten year old son, and no father-figure in sight.

Naturally, Janice would like you to step in to play the role of daddy. Your job will be to pay for her son, yell at her son, beat her son, put up with her son’s idiot friends, bail her son out of jail, take care of her son’s own bastard spawn (prolly beginning when he’s about fifteen), and then to liquidate your portfolio, to pay off Janice when she’s around forty. Once your purpose has been served, she will invite you to taste the pleasures of divorce court. On this you can count with absolute certainty.

Do you want to date Janice? I didn’t think so.

Online dating game is not difficult. What I do is put up no more than three photos. One establishes me as from elsewhere (chicks think foreigners are exotic). One is me at work, and the other is me with a girl, dog, or cat (preselection plus a general empathy signal).

About 80% of the messages I get are totally useless fuggos, women wanting housing/rides/dinners, and open offers of prostitution. Despite this, I get enough good leads to make it all worthwhile. This is one. Critique my game, and predict how I did when I met her, less than 12h later.

Down below, my brother Kryptonian writes:

You will find that your comment was “eaten” by Dalrock. …

If Dalrock deleted my comment (and I have no knowledge that he did) I have no problem with it. In fact, I’ve edited and deleted comments here on my blog. A couple of individuals are banned from my haus… one for posting gay porn xxx.gif in the comments, and another (a wimminz) here soliciting my readers to go elsewhere and fight for m’lady’s honor. Both are violations of the well-defined comment policy, viewable by anyone at the top right on this page.

Several regular commenters are technically violating the comment policy, by posting under their full legal names. I have chosen to give them a pass on this because they do it elsewhere, and are already well known in the ‘sphere under their legal names; and, because I assume that they know and appreciate the folly of doing this. Even so, I warn these people not to test their local feminist kooks. Our enemies are the pettiest people imaginable, and there is really no depth they won’t stoop to.

every single time that anyone says anything Dalrock doesn’t like he deletes them, it’s as simple as that…

That has not been my experience. I’ve been banned from lots of forums (Catholic Answers, The Spearhead, Stormfront, Manboobz, the list goes on forever). Their houses, their rules. No sweat.

I have posted on Dalrock since around 2012 or so. I’ve often been involved in protracted arguments with some of his favorite people. He has allowed me to speak there, and to my knowledge, allows me to comment still.

Now, if Dalrock did ban me, or edit my comments, I couldn’t fault him. He pays the bills and provides original content. I’d also be a hypocrite for condemning him. If I show up over there and annoy him, and he decides to ban me, He’d be hitting the same button that I hit when Stephanie showed up here and tried to start an inter-blog flame war, because her feelz got hurt, or when Stoner With A Boner decided to archive all his gay pr0n in my comments sections.

Ultimately, the best thing that any of us can do is start our own blogs, where we control our own content. That way, if I ban you, you can criticize me over on your own soapbox, and I won’t be able to say shit about it (other than answering back).

More generally, I’m annoyed by the lack of content out in the world. There really ought to be hundreds more manosphere blogs than there are, presently. Our enemies underestimate our numbers, due to the fact that (unlike the typical feminist) most of us have jobs and lives, and no surplus of free time. The best thing each of us can do is to add one more voice to the WWW.

 

Over on Fabius Maximus, Larry Kummer is having a hell of a time explaining simple concepts to idiotic CONservatives, who can’t seem to realize that child-support is a bad idea. Obviously, these morons tell us, wimminz will do what they want, and what wimminz want is to fuck thugs, nazi skinheads and layabouts. Wimminz want to bear children through these men, so that they can get on the fancy capitalist dole, get some food stamps, a crappy council flat, and thereby gain their independence at the ripe-old age of 15, so that they can start partying like they saw skank-ho mummy did, growing up. The moronic CONservatives assure us that we can’t change things, so we had better line up and keep paying for these idiot wimminz, as they crash our economy and collapse our society.

As Larry’s comment section illustrates, The CONservative’s dim peanut brain is incapable of formulating any solutions which don’t involve the feminist state, child support, and incentives for bad female behavior. Yet, pop-culture is replete with contemporary examples of secular patriarchy, that sidestep both religion and feminism, providing us tools to reconstruct a useful model of a more decent society.

Груз 200 (Freight 200) was a code word for shipments of corpses home during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan. Empires don’t like bad publicity, and corpses are some of the worst. It’s also the title of a film that was released, ten years ago (in 2008). I saw it in the theatre, when my Russian was passable. The fact that I remember the film is telling. It clearly made an impression on me.

I shouldn’t be able to understand most of it today. To the best of my knowledge, it has never been released in the west. If you speak Russian, see if you can find a copy on the torrents. It’s worth seeing for a thousand different reasons, most relevant to the manosphere is the following.

Груз 200 is a horror film set in the USSR in 1983-1984, supposedly based on true events. The protagonist is the captain of a local militia: the equivalent of a county sheriff in the U.S.A., who decides to abuse his position by raping and murdering the people he’s responsible for.

At the beginning of the movie Sheriff Psycho corners a sixteen-year old girl who had been visiting an illicit distillery to buy some contraband moonshine. Knowing she’s subject to arrest, she begs for leniency. Sheriff asshole has other plans, though, and tells her he’s going to rape her. She completely loses it at this point. She tells the Sheriff her father is an official in the local Communist Party machine, and that she’s a virgin.

If evidence comes to light that a woman had sex before marriage in the USSR, it would reflect on her parents. They’d lose their positions. This is a hallmark of a healthy society, in which women are held to normal standards.

Ask yourself what would happen to our own society if we implemented some of these cultural artifacts. What if we were to start firing people whose children went feral? Would our society improve?

The girl then tells her attacker that if she becomes pregnant out of wedlock, she’ll get sent to prison. This is another hallmark of a more sensible society. Sheriff Jagoff shows her a bit of mercy, at this point, and rapes her with an empty liquor bottle. He subsequently takes her to his house, and chains her to his bed.

What if we confiscated bastards in the hospital, and gave the children away to normal couples to raise, while we sent the mother to a work-camp, where she would be expected to pay back society for the resources she has squandered. Would this have a beneficial effect upon female behavior?

The girl threatens her captor with the only bit of leverage she has left: Her fiancé is a paratrooper, currently serving in Afghanistan. When he rotates back to the Soviet Union, she assures him, he’ll come for revenge. In fact, her boyfriend has already been killed. Notification to the family is classified (hence the code word for dead bodies). Sheriff Kook intercepts her boyfriend’s corpse, and throws it into bed with her.

The film has something of a happy ending. After another one of the Sheriff’s victims gets sick of his shit, she seeks out the help of the local Communist Party boss. The bureaucrat’s job is to arrest Sheriff Pervert for corruption and crimes against the people, but he’s not going to do any such thing…

This is probably the funniest scene I’ve seen in any film. In the background, the local communist youth practice drill and ceremony, and there’s a banner that declares “Hail the All-Union Communist Party!” All this happens as Commissar Loser tells this woman (an actual worker) that he isn’t going to risk his cushy position to stop the Militia Captain from ripping her off, or framing her husband for things he didn’t do.

Knowing she has no other recourse, she goes home, gets her own AK-47 out of the garage,  drives over to the Sheriff’s house, and bursts in to splatter his guts all over the wall.

The Soviet Union was a horribly corrupt, dismal, and expansionist nation, and it wasn’t fit to survive (for all the reasons the film illustrates), but one thing they did not do there was tolerate feral wimminz and single mothers.

As it happened in the year 1984

I admire the ability of people like AfOR for many things, not least of which is his skill at inline deconstruction of the male rationalization-hamster. Anyone who has been to his blog can see him in action.

Over on Dalrock, a contributor named “Embracing Reality” has a particularly active hamster. He writes:

Im single never married, no kids, 47, financially quite comfortable. I’m currently dating a “good” Christian women

The scare-quotes imply sarcasm. Care to fill us in on the details? Yes? Let’s go through it…

7 years younger,

She’s 40. A “good Christian woman” at that age is either married or a nun. The wimminz you’re fucking is a skank-ho fake Christian, who takes her religious obligations as seriously as she takes the latest pair of shoes she bought.

single never married, no kids and like me she doesn’t want any.

She brazenly asserts that she doesn’t want children, because her own poor decisions have left her in a position where she can’t have any. This is Anna Freud’s classic work on ego-defense, writ-large into your life.

No worries, though. She’ll find some unfortunate man to marry, and he will serve as the kid she never had. This is a foundational concept which is known as “displacement.” Anna Freud’s daddy, Sig, wrote all about it.

Hint: Don’t be that man.

Fit, attractive for her age,

Marginally less fat and repulsive than the average 40-year old skank-ho. Got it.

looks early 30s with smooth skin.

She actually looks 40. Your illusion is a false state of consciousness, produced by your own oxytocin.

She makes 75k a year.

And you should give a shit, why? I’ve dated tons of lawyer-sluts and accountant-sluts who make (what they imagine to be) big dollaz. That would only be relevant if I wanted to assume the status of wife.

She constantly test me as to where this 6 month relationship is going, she wants me to marry her of course. Now what?

You say no. When she throws the resulting tantrum, you show her the door. If you follow the procedure that Ya Boy Boxer has already laid out, she’ll be back soon enough with an apology. Rinse and repeat if you want.

This is probably as good a match as I’ll ever find.

What does this say about you? I work at a shit-tier university, and personally know dozens of hot 25-year olds, who are openly professing their love for 50-something men on a daily basis. Start jogging, grandpa. Get some dental work done and a new suit made. Four billion women in the world, and most of them are better matches than the old bag you’re describing.

For whatever reason I can easily meet women like her online. I’m good at meeting women online but rarely quite as good of a match. Yet I don’t know if I even want marriage at this point. I’m afraid the juice just won’t be worth the squeeze. How can it be? The risks, responsibilities, obligations, potential burdens.

In other words, you know she’s in wallet-seeking mode, and you know the dangers, you’re just daily lying to yourself.

Point being, any single man anywhere who only has 99 problems doesn’t really need 100 more. Even if sexual desire is overwhelming (it’s not for me, at all) marrying might not help that problem anyway. Sure, some men have good marriages but not very damn many. In 2018, for most men, why bother?

You just gave yourself far better advice than anyone else could do. Do yourself a favor, and take yourself seriously. Live up to your pseudonym and admit that the risks outweigh the rewards. Be honest with her too. Cut her loose, to find another chump, and spend the rest of your life grateful not to be that poor fucker.

Priority No. 1 is pushing every nerd back into his locker. Richard Feynman agreed. The rest of this is mere commentary.

Over on Dalrock, Luke writes some shit like:

The nerd phenotype has many facets that are abhorrent, and one of the most extreme is his completely misplaced self-regard. The nerd is usually very impressed with himself and his accomplishments, which are almost always mediocre. Nerds also tend to have a childish grasp of basic concepts, as a result revealing that they are very shallow thinkers. An example is the inherent contradiction above: Despite declaring himself “among the least socialist people on the planet,” Luke identifies himself as a member of a specific class, which he implies is both oppressed and superior. This harkens back not only to Marx’s theses on class consciousness, but also to Freud’s work, on delusions of grandeur and persecution in the neurotic.

This is precisely the sort of ressentiment that nearly every contemporary Marxist kook displays. Like most members of the alt-right, Luke is one of the most socialist people on the planet, but he’s either not smart or honest enough to realize or admit it. Luke’s contempt for people with degrees in “Fuzzy Studies” (whatever those are) mirror the Marxist paradigm of hating anyone who is demonstrably better than he is. The weak hate the strong, the inferior hate the superior, and no force on earth can change this.

As a group, nerds always seek to develop and project a set of values and qualities that end up being entirely recursive. The nerd’s entire communicative praxis follows along these same lines. Everything they say (or type) seems merely to devolve into announcing their own supposed superiority to others. Their extensive self-regard is incredible, and generally develops as they mature from the stage of insecure weakling to that of narcissistic know-it-all, that no normal person can stand to associate with.

Like his contemporary pseudo-Marxist brother, the nerd makes a bombastic show of rejecting normal mores and values, while usually indulging in a fanatical obsession with weird cultural artifacts like Star Wars, Dr. Who, and My Little Pony. Nerds always claim to be “open minded,” while refusing to become familiar with great literary and artistic works. They always imagine themselves “above” the aesthetic tastes of the proles who employ and control them; but, their absolute inferiority is betrayed by the fact that they never seem to develop any meaningful cultural icons that have any traction outside their own stunted circles.

The next time you meet a nerd, ask him what he’s accomplished. Other than constructing a self-congratulatory complex out of whole-cloth, the answer will (of course) turn out to be nothing. His attitude is pure ego-defense: an indicator that he hasn’t ever solved any engineering problems without Mathematica and his TI-89, nor has he ever written any story or screenplay that would have the slightest bit of interest to anyone who doesn’t share his neurosis. The nerd’s obsession with pony-porn and light-sabers is an absolute indicator that he is not only inferior, but deserving of your scorn.

Full disclosure: I have undergrad degrees in philosophy, physics and pure math, and I have graduate degrees in mathematics and history. This didn’t take as much time as you’d think (I probably went to school for eighteen months longer than Luke, here.) Like Luke, I’m not some sort of genius (I’m confident that I’m smarter than he is, though that’s irrelevant to my actual worth). If anything, I am proof that it doesn’t take anything more than average intelligence to acquire STEM degrees. The concepts are less intuitive than those in programs like literature or history, but they’re no more difficult to learn. In fact, after the high hurdle of the first two years, it was easier for me to study mathematics than history, because the coursework was progressive, and once one masters some foundations, specifics in the following courses are often derivable with the knowledge you already have.

I consider myself fortunate to be a mediocre mathematician, and it is largely thanks to good teachers that I became one without devolving into the typical deluded, neurotic asshole with a STEM degree.

This is one for all you married bros. Break out that credit card and get your wife what she deserves.

The one thing in this world you can not do enough of is covering your own behind. No one else will do it for you.

So, you’ve met some chick, and all of a sudden, sex happens. We’ve all been there. The problem, in this case, is that there has been no “memorandum of understanding” documented beforehand. This poses a problem in the #metoo era, given that you are now in a legal position which gives her the upper-hand.

Your duty, at this point, is to get her to say she had no complaints, in writing, and back this up to the cloud. Email is better than text message, but text message is better than nothing.

It should not escape anyone that currently, numerous wimminz are retroactively accusing men of harassment, rape, and lewd conduct, often years after the fact, with zero evidence, and that the male victims of these unprovable accusations are being socially and financially punished, regardless of the facts. If you are a man in North America, you need to take this seriously.

Standards are important. This is why, early on, I decided to inaugurate my own form of “shit test” to weed out the crazy and non-compliant from the potential pool.

Her: I like this app so far. haven’t found any gross guys or catfish yet.

Me: I don’t know what you mean exactly, but happy if you’re having fun.

Her: sometimes creepy guys get a little to [sic] forward, and i’m an old fashioned girl…

If I had the inclination, I could have converted this whore into an instant bang. She initiated contact, so she was clearly down. I’d have merely reminded her of a couple of simple facts in heartiste’s cocky/funny tone. Notably: If you’re 22 or older, you aren’t a “girl” by any stretch of the imagination. Moreover, if you’re on plenty of fish, you aren’t old fashioned. So, are we going to meet and fuck, or not?

Even so, these attitudes are tiresome, and I’ve found the lackluster sex that proceeds to be entirely unworthy of the effort. So I fired off the last message, and blocked the acres of self-righteous justification that was sure to follow.

Decide what your minimum standards include, and then stick to them. There’s no reason for you to waste time on any bitch who is rude, manipulative, or otherwise unworthy of you.

Also: LOL at the cheapo jewelry on offer in the side-bar. I can believe there are simps who would buy a genuine simulated diamond tennis bracelet, for $39.99, for some PoFfer. Sad!