“Since superior holiness is the currency of priests, their failure mode is holiness-spiralling.”
This is a clearly true statement about the priesthood. However, the problem is not limited to the priesthood, as a casual glance at the political environment in 2021 reveals. Thus I disagree with e.g. Pooch at https://blog.reaction.la/war/where-we-are-now/
“Open priesthood is at the roof [root] of the holiness spiral problem. A theoretical perfect religion will still inevitably get holiness spiraled to demonic levels with an open priesthood.”
A lot of dudes in NRx think that the main problem of holiness spirals is an open priesthood. Alas, it’s not that simple. Even without an open priesthood, non-priest assholes would still have a desire to holiness spiral to virtue signal, and everyone has an incentive to do it to reduce the chance of being attacked by the swarm. (Some resist the incentive, of course.) The people who post “Refugees welcome” on Twitter don’t do that because they’re hoping for a job in the African Studies Department of their local university. Yes an open priesthood exacerbates the problem, but it’s not the core of the problem.
(3) As a follow-up to the previous point: What are we going to do if we actually win and succeed in closing the priesthood? I mean, as a matter of policy? The unofficial policy, expressed casually, will be something like, “Be pious, but don’t have a stick up your butt about it. And DON’T try to out-pious your neighbors, or we’ll punish you.” Robert Heinlein, in To Sail Beyond the Sunset, had his character Maureen Johnson say something in a similar vein, summing up what makes a person liked in her town, as opposed to resented for being an a-hole about religion: “Commandment number four. Go to church on Sundays. Smile and be pleasant but don’t be too smarmily a hypocrite… Support the church by deeds and money but not too conspicuously.”
So the basic idea is simple. But how can we officially communicate it to the population?
(4) Game: A field report. In my previous Miscellany post I wrote about some shit testing that I’ve encountered at the rink where I’ve been skating lately. Since that post until today that mostly stopped— I suspect this is because as I’ve gotten used to the temperature in this rink I’ve been wearing gloves less, so my wedding ring is now visible most of the time that I’m on the ice.
So anyway, it mostly stopped… until earlier today (the day I’m writing this, not the day I’m posting it). I get this blatant shit testing (STing) from two young women. One of them is the alpha bitch I mentioned in the previous Miscellany post; the other is a buddy of hers. Buddy is also a regular there but has never ST’d me before so I’ll call her New Brat. Now I can’t describe the shit test, because it involves a fairly unique feature of this particular rink, and I don’t want to out my location. It was not subtle. It was one of those, “Let’s blatantly provoke this guy because we’re intensely curious about how he’ll respond” shit tests.
I give myself a C-minus for handling it, by the way; I would say C+ but I’m dinging myself because I should have been expecting it— I got complacent when the tests died down over the last couple of weeks. Anyway…
So in response to the blatantly unreasonable behavior I throw a couple of joking jabs in New Brat’s direction. I’m nowhere near being within reach of her— maybe five feet away— and I’m smirking at the girls’ blatant double-X chromosome antics, so any human who’s not autistic is going to get that I’m kidding. New Brat goes, “Seriously? You’d hit a teenage girl?” Either she’s an autist or this is just another shit test. (What do you think?) Now let’s replay that and dig my immediate response:
“Seriously? You’d hit a teenage girl?” “Oh yeah, I do it all the time!”
Any reader familiar with the basics of Game will recognize this as Agree and Amplify. But what interests me is that I wasn’t thinking in those terms. It just came out of me spontaneously in response to this dorky rhetorical question by this silly chick. And this is my point: We think of Agree and Amplify as a Game technique, but the reason the technique is a good one is that it’s a man’s natural response when some chick is being a dork and you don’t take her at all seriously.
Of course, this is true of all Game: The entire point is to mimic behaviors of a man who’s not impressed or interested. But it’s been years since I’ve had a chick say something quite that austitically dorky to me. I couldn’t even be arsed to pretend to take her seriously.
Of course, all men who use Game have experienced the delightful change of having the right behaviors become natural and spontaneous. I experienced that decades ago. But I normally think about this in terms of general alpha behavior (Game in the large), not specific techniques (Game in the small). So it was interesting that I spontaneously Agreed and Amplified, a specific technique, without thinking about it.
Ah, the classic techniques. They’re classic for a reason.
By the way, New Brat’s expression changed noticeably in response to my mockery. It looked like she was surprised or confused. Hopefully it’s because she actually heard what I was saying through my words. My words were, “Oh yeah, I do it all the time!” But what I was saying was, “You dork!”
However, since I don’t think I passed the shit test well, overall, there will be a follow-up test some time soon. God damn it, now I have to think about this until it gets resolved. Females are such a pain in the ass!
Follow-up about ten days later: Another shit test!
Memo to anti-Gamers and assorted blue-pillers: Note that Game predicted these young women’s behavior. Game is scientific; it’s a set of generalizations gleaned from a large mass of observations. And so, like classical mechanics enabling us to predict the positions of the planets, Game literally enables you to predict the future.
This time it was the alpha bitch from the previous Miscellany post, whom I am going to refer to as Drama Queen henceforth, for reasons that will immediately become apparent.
This time she and I did sorta kinda have a near miss. But not a very near miss. So she yelps “You almost killed me!” or something like that, while holding her hand over her heart as if she’s having a heart attack, LOL. She then skates over to the boards to get a consoling hug from her friend New Brat. I swear I am not making this up.
So I skate over to them and say to Drama Queen, “You’re okay. Everybody has near misses.” (Really, it wasn’t a very near miss.)
“What?” she says, while she theatrically folds her arms across her chest and tries to give me a piercing Alpha Bitch stare. The problem for her is, while this would be scary if it were Russia a couple of centuries ago and she were the Czarina and had the authority to have me sent to Siberia, coming from a teenage chick in the modern US it’s just silly. Actually it was kind of cute. I wish that all the teenage girl shit testing had been this easy to handle when I was in my teens. Or maybe it was, and I just find it easier to handle now due to experience.
Anyway, at this point I’m already skating backwards away from her because I want to get back in motion, so I make my hand into a trumpet and loudly repeat what I said while keeping eye contact with her, then I turn and skate away.
Drama Queen’s shit testing is so silly, like she hasn’t had much practice. In general she, like her friend, is kind of a dork.
Two possible explanations (aside from her just being a doofus):
1) She might be younger than she looks.
2) They attend an all-girls school. This would explain the silliness of Drama Queen’s shit testing, as well as the fact that even though she’s hot she obviously isn’t getting laid (man this chick needs to be pronged, as her hilariously melodramatic shit testing reveals).
I seem to have been identified as the situational alpha of this rink. This is flattering, but the ST’ing is annoying as well as amusing. The amusement comes from the fact that her shit testing drama queenery is so over the top. When we both had to stop suddenly, Drama Queen acted like she was in a sub-basement two stories belowground at Hiroshima when the nuke went off, and through a freak combination of circumstances managed to survive. (“I need a hug!”) Also, I was skating backwards and she was skating forwards, so she should have seen me coming plenty of time before I looked over my shoulder and saw her. The annoyance comes from the fact that I am there for ice, not to be ST’d by histrionic females. Women!
Memo to self: PLAN FOR FURTHER SHIT TESTING.
I already have a woman, so leave me alone, you little spazzes! And even if I didn’t, there are also a few other considerations. I don’t want to fail shit tests, because I want to keep my dignity (and honestly, it’s fun to practice passing them). But the more I pass them the more of these chicks’ attention I’m going to draw. The ideal outcome is that they both start getting laid soon and they’ll suddenly be a lot more… relaxed. Then, one may hope, this whole issue will go away.
The human mating dance as it occurs naturally does not allow the possibility of the man making the first move. It is always the woman making the first move. I don’t mean the first physical move, which is always the man in my experience, but the first expression of interest. When the man makes the first move, it gratingly violates the biologically hard-wired mating dance, especially from the woman’s point of view: it strikes a woman as awkward and offputting. Women insist that they want the man to make the first move, but ridiculous untruths like this are exactly why we watch what women do instead of listening to what they say.
One way of looking at what I call “Game in the small”—the set of techniques like negs, starting out talking to the friend of the girl you’re interested in instead of that girl, etc.—is that it’s a way for the man to get the seduction process rolling without it letting on that that’s what he’s doing.
In contrast to Game in the small, Game in the large is the basic concepts like hypergamy, the importance of preselection/social proof, not seeming too interested, and the fact that women want alpha, not nice. A particular neg like “Wow, you drink like a guy” (LOL) is an example of Game in the small.
(I’m going to drop the capital G; constantly hitting the Shift key is annoying.)
Before I knew game, all the serious fooling around I ever did came about this way, with the girl making the first move, one way or another. Sometimes she was subtle and sometimes she was blatant, but the chick always initiated.
So I was recently ruminating about how things changed for me when I first started learning the ideas now called game, and I realized something: game radically increased women’s interest in me… but it didn’t change the elemental fact that if the man makes the first move— at least in an obvious way— women are turned off.
Women hate it! They say they love it, but they hate it!
What did game do? And it indeed did something, something electrifying and in-your-face obvious: Game made it easy to arouse women, even when you weren’t trying. Once I internalized the ideas and they became part of my natural behavior, there were two occasions in which half-drunk women blurted to me or my girlfriend that they wanted to seduce me out from under her. Just because I’d automatically, without trying, aroused them so much. And in general game made it easy to stand out from other men; hell; half of it is just avoiding common mistakes like being too modest or offering to buy chicks drinks.
But even with game, penis-in-vagina always came from the chick making the first move, just like before I knew game. It is possible that this is because I was so focused on game in the large, due to the magical success it was giving me in general, that I wasn’t using enough game in the small. But see the comments from others below about “going out to get laid.”
When I was single, the seduction process always boiled down to me “allowing” myself to be seduced by a chick. Game makes this infinitely easier because it makes women electrifyingly attracted to you, but it doesn’t change the basic fact of who moves first.
When PUAs say that cold approaches are hard to do, well, no; they’re easy. Just say Hi, and have several things to say after that. But if they mean that successful cold approaches are hard to do, then yes, definitely. Similarly if it’s not a cold approach but a chick in your social circle: she makes the first move. You can prompt her to do this by being masculine, fit, socially confident, not interested in her, not too nice, etc., but that doesn’t change the elemental reality of who moves first.
(Of course, if alcohol is involved a one-night stand, complete with awkward morning after, is always possible, game or no game.)
So the way I’d practice game today if I were single would probably be something like what Dex does in The Tao of Steve: just “be excellent [and masculine] in her presence” and don’t seem interested in her. You can do cold approaches all the live-long day, and it’s a good skill to have, but it’s not optimal in the sense of hunting where the prospects are best. That’s probably just improving your social circle game, and doing more of it, and going out to bars etc. often, so you get random social collisions with women often. That’s what I think my advice to a young man would be these days.
Be as attractive to women as you possibly can, using the knowledge that game gives us: Act as alpha as you can pull off, work out, have a good social network, don’t be modest about your past sexual experience, and if you’re inexperienced exaggerate your experience with suggestive hints (avoid outright lies; too risky). Have a particular niche; be a jock or an intellectual or a rocker or an artsy type or whatever. You can’t choose this niche at random; it has to be based on who you are. Take the time and money to dress cool, according to whatever is cool in the social milieu where you’re sarging. Use negs as appropriate and always be alert for shit tests and be good at handling them.
The Big Three things: Passing shit tests, social proof, and negs.
(By the way, you will be cockblocked, if she has less-attractive friends, unless you isolate. And in two cases, when I was in college, even when the girl and I did isolate: her “friends” actually followed us, intruded into the situation, and cockblocked! I agree with a Roosh post from years ago; we need to punish cockblockers.)
Thus: Social circle game, because you’ll see the girl again, you can display your awesome self in a natural, unforced situation, and eventually she can let you know she wants to fuck you. She talks to you with a flirty tilt to her head, while rubbing her hand on your shoulder. Or she invites you— and only you— over for a study session if you’re taking a class together. Or, whether you two know each other or not, she rubs her pussy against your crotch on the dance floor at the club. (It occurs to me that I’m assuming that you’re in a certain age bracket.) Or she just invites herself to your place at random.
(BTW, grinding her pussy against your crotch is actually not “making the first physical move” as I’m using that phrase. When I say “the first physical move” I mean something that’s intended to lead directly to sex. The girl is not expecting you to fuck her right there on the dance floor.)
There’s no “moderate difficulty” setting. Either you can’t get laid at all… or a chick you sorta know comes to your college dorm room, uninvited, and essentially demands sex.
And whenever one chick did this, it seemed like at least one other chick would come on to me in the next few days. I swear, women can telepathically sense if you’re getting laid and not looking, and they love that. Thus it’s always drought, flood, drought, flood…
What game does is increase the number of effortless cases.
One commenter says: “Another thing I’ve noticed is that, if I ever have a conscious plan laid out in my head to get laid, it doesn’t work. There have been times where I knew I was going to get laid, but this wasn’t due to any reflective internal planning or anything like that. Pretty much every time when I go out thinking “I want to get laid” I end up going home and [engaging the manual release].”
Another weighs in: “This touches on why the manosphere leaders would always stress “Don’t make women your mission.” Leaving your house with the specific intent to get laid (especially by yourself with no tribe) gives off a level of betaness and desperation that women are fine-tuned to pick up in your behavior. Alpha males are busy men who have a mission that takes priority over women. I had drastic improvement in my close rates when I internalized that principle… If I happened across a broad eyeing me up while I was out and about or partying with my bros I would approach as an opportunist, but leaving the house with sole purpose to approach women always produced a low success rate for me, personally.”
A third agrees:
“Yeah- going out “to get laid” doesn’t work. Trying too hard pedestalizes women and ruins your frame. Need to go out to have a good time in a place where there are women around and let the magic happen. The more experience I got, the more the female maxim of “it just happened” makes sense. As long as the conditions are right- that you are high status in the local environment and there is an isolated place to bring a woman to, it does just happen. If you plan to “date”, invite a woman along to do something fun that you like to do, that you would have done anyway, and make what you bring her along to your priority.”
Men should all do a certain amount of go-out-to-score PUA stuff anyway, because it develops certain social skills that are a good force multiplier in social circle game, but have that as your goal and expectation, not getting laid. If getting laid happens, consider it a bonus.
Well, sure, of course physical violence is ultimately at the base of all power. I don’t disagree with that. Don’t underestimate the importance of organizing, channeling, inspiring, discouraging, rewarding, punishing, and otherwise controlling physical violence with words and ideas, though. That’s the progs’ specialty, and they’re nearly undefeated over the last century or more.
True. They’re evil as fuck-all, but we have to learn what we can from a force that, with the exception of one huge loss, the Cold War, is basically undefeated for the last century.
“So no the story of Christ is not properly viewed as that as a jew nerd who got cast out because he couldn’t fit in with his fellow jew nerds, and then he was crucified by the chad romans… that is the progressive and cuckstian view of jesus.”
Fuck, I’m dying here! jew nerds… chad romans… I’m gonna bust a gut.
Alf comes back with, “What you mean all the crucifixes from all the churches and painters over the past millenia are evil and homosexual? [LOL.] …the crux (heh) of the story, to me, seems to be that he died for our sins, not that he gave his haters the middle finger three days later.”
I just flashed on an image of Jesus, floating up toward Heaven, flipping the bird to all the hatas down below.
Maybe Jesus is a Taylor Swift fan. Hatas gonna hate… Except that he’s not going to “shake it off,” he’s going to open up a can of Cosmic Whoop-Ass on them.
(3) Simone Biles’s walk-off: Obviously all the media adulation got to her head. And she didn’t have the personality to deal with it (not to say that most people would). She had the bad taste, before the Olympics, to wear a sweatshirt that had “GOAT,” that is, Greatest Of All Time, embroidered on it. Really, Biles? Among football quarterbacks Tom Brady is constantly called the GOAT, but he hasn’t gotten a jersey that says that on it. Lordy. How could Biles not see how narcissistic that looks? And before the Olympic gymnastics started there was a bit on the TV coverage that showed Biles standing near an actual goat, while on the screen they flashed “A goat” with an arrow pointing to the goat and “The G.O.A.T.” with an arrow pointing to Biles.
It was all ridiculous, of course. And any human being, told “You have to win 6,000 gold medals or you’re letting us down,” could get screwed up by the pressure. It got to her head and messed up her performance.
The media’s narrative? Instead of admitting their coverage had been excessive, they spread some BS about her proprioception being shot. I.e. The Narrative is now that there is an actual medical problem with her sense of balance. Which, by a strange coincidence, just happened to manifest during the Olympics. As I recall, this story is ultimately coming from the Biles camp. I don’t believe it. I think she just was fucked up by all the pressure – understandably, really.
Sooooo…. what actually happened in cultural terms? Well, if you’re reading this in CURRENT YEAR you already know: Presented with a black female who is unquestionably extremely good at what she does, the US media just couldn’t resist excessively pumping her up. It’s like putting a bacon cheeseburger in front of a wolf and expecting it not to chow down. So they shot video footage of her next to a goat, et cetera, with results that were pretty predictable.
I wonder what will happen the next time a talented black chick pops up on the public stage. Has the media learned anything from the Biles episode? Or, like the Bourbons, have they forgotten nothing and learned nothing? Or perhaps it doesn’t matter, because they’re so caught up in a holiness spiral that the next time there’s a black woman who excels at anything, the first one to stop clapping gets shot, I mean, the media outlet with the least hagiographic coverage will be called “racist” and they won’t be willing to risk that. On the other hand, media leftists must hate seeing a black female fail to live up to expectations, so maybe they’ll hedge their coverage with the next one. But betting on leftists being sane is never a safe bet, so we’ll have to wait and see.
There’s also an interesting point about sports psychology here. Elite-level athletes are taught that the mental game is crucial and are trained to shrug off “You suck!” comments from the peanut gallery. But so few of them have to deal with “You’re the Greatest Of All Time!” that standard sports psychology training doesn’t cover it. After l’affaire Biles it might.
(4) Leftist ass-hat perceives Big Truth, blurts it out in public before her wrong-think filter can kick in.
Michelle Obama, of all people, says this in her autobiography:
“I have been at probably every powerful table that you can think of, I have worked at nonprofits, I have been at foundations, I have worked in corporations, served on corporate boards, I have been at G-summits, I have sat in at the U.N.: They are not that smart.”
Of course this accurate observation about the limitations of our self-appointed dictators destroys the entire case for having big government intervene in everything.
La Obama, being a leftist ass, uses this Big Truth to push some narrow politically correct message like, “If you’re a woman of color, don’t let white men with Harvard PhDs intimidate you.” The message about not being intimidated by sociopathic morons with “credentials” is good advice, but talk about burying the lede!
(5)Vive la différence, a couple of data points. The regulars at the main rink where I skate are mostly figure skaters, which means they’re mostly women, with one guy who is an out gay and another who is pretty obviously gay. There are also two men who seem straight, but they’re on the older side all they do is skate at walking speed. Now I’m not 19 any more, nor am I Chad Thundercock in terms of my build or height. But I’m the only man there who is reasonably of breeding age, and who is obviously a hockey-style skater, not a figure skater. I’m there to work on my speed, power, and acceleration, not twirl around to Mendelssohn overtures or whatever. You can probably guess where this is going.
Over time, several female figure skaters have been skating ever closer to me during their routines/workouts, to the point that it would be dangerous if I couldn’t control myself on the ice – some sudden stops and fast turns have been needed. Of course, this is either to get my attention or a shit test or both. The key fact is not that there are near misses – shit happens – but that they’re getting more frequent and closer over time. And there are two young attractive women who are particularly interested in me. One I can tell because she’s constantly checking me out. She can’t help it; it’s adorable. Another is a very hot young woman, I would guess 18 years old. She is damn good-looking and has a taut, lithe body (like lots of young women figure skaters), in other words she’s unquestionably an alpha bitch of whatever her social circle outside the rink is.
She tries to get my attention, by e.g. doing weird moves on the ice and glancing at me to see if I’m looking at her, talking loudly with her friends and glancing at me to see if I’m looking at her (which I almost never do for exactly this reason) and – surprise! – shit testing me. In particular, because there are lots of skaters there most days, there are lots of near misses. Figure skaters tend to change direction unpredictably on the ice (don’t even get me started). But one day she and I had something that was not by any stretch of imagination a near miss; she was merely skating behind me and I was skating backwards so I could not help looking in her general direction. She histrionically threw her hands up in the air, as if at my rudeness in daring to skate within a parsec of her. When I didn’t react, she did it again, even more overtly. Ridiculous. She never has done this with anyone else at the rink, with whom she has had some near misses (we all have). In other words: Baseless acausal female histrionics to get a male’s attention and get some data on his reaction.
I already have a woman I’m quite happy with, so am not going to do anything about this, and my point is not to brag about being shit tested by a hot young alpha bitch (well, maybe a little, heh). My main point is this:
It’s amazing how true traditional beliefs are. You think you know this, you think you’ve got it dialed, and then it pops up when you’re not looking for it and reaffirms itself. In this case, the truth is that women like masculine men. I’m the only person at the rink who exhibits a normal Y chromosome and is of breeding age, and BAM! unsought attention from attractive females.
This chick is certainly young enough to have lived her entire life in the Empire of Lies propaganda regime that says that women don’t like “toxic masculinity,” etc. And the sum total effect of that on her sexual interest, compared to decades ago when I was in college/high school, is: Nil.
“Dude, this is obvious!” you say. Yes, among the sane it is. But read my blog’s tag line: It is necessary these days to belabor the obvious.
We live in the Empire of Lies. I wonder what it would be like to live in a world that wasn’t the Empire of Lies. Of course it would be infinitely less stressful. What would we do with ourselves if we didn’t have to devote time and emotional energy to pushing back against lies? Would we seek out even more truth, even more knowledge? Or would we just chillax and enjoy life more? Maybe someday our children will have the luxury of choosing an answer to that question.
Meanwhile, if you’re a man prowling for babes, look for situations in which you’re one of few obviously straight males and have a legit reason other than prowling to be there. I’m at the rink to skate, not score, and no doubt my lack of interest in them is another reason the women like me. If you actually are there to swoop babes you’ll just have to fake it, but all that takes is a tiny bit of effort. See your local Game blog.
I dunno… maybe take a jazz dance class, but make sure you dress and comport yourself in a way that makes it clear that you’re straight. And loudly explain (if someone asks) that you’re there because “I heard that dance will help me bulk up my muscle mass in my lower body” or something. Or you could take up skating. Just buy a pair of figure skates and NO, DUMBASS! that was a joke. Seriously, rent a pair of (hockey) skates; all rinks rent them. Get out there and start learning. Note: Most rinks are not just chicks and gay guys so you won’t automatically provoke female interest just by being there. Also that probably won’t happen until you get reasonably good so you’re personifying masculine power when you’re on the ice. (I’m the fastest skater there, am constantly accelerating as hard as I can, then slamming to a stop in a spray of ice shavings, etc.) But give it a try it if there’s a rink near you.
Gosh, female figure skaters in motion are beautiful. It gorgeously embodies feminine grace.
Pro Tip: You were born gendered. You’re not some disembodied brain floating in a vat of nutrient solution like a scene from a bad 1950s science fiction movie. So bear with me, dear reader, as I once again belabor the obvious:
Women are irresistibly attracted to masculinity; men are irresistibly attracted to femininity.
This is a collection of quotes from Jim’s blog, some from the proprietor and some from commenters there. I started to assemble this list from miscellaneous notes I had when his blog went down near the end of 2020. The blog is now back up at a new base url, blog.reaction.la rather than blog.jim.com. However, pasting an old url into the url window prompts an automatic re-direct, so the links below still work if you want to follow up by visiting the indicated pages.
These are listed in no particular order.
(1) The phrase “social technology.”
Certain laws and customs regarding marriage, for example. This is one of those phrases that just clicks when you first encounter it and makes you wonder why someone else didn’t coin it a long time ago.
(2) As anyone can see, leftism is simply the craving for power, which is why leftists 100 years ago were fanatically communist, leftists 30 years ago were fanatically environmentalist, and CURRENT YEAR leftists are fanatically white-hating. Jim in his comments at https://blog.jim.com/war/creeping-coup/
Leftism has no essence, no defining doctrine, no fixed character other than heading off to whichever apple carts look vulnerable and have nice apples on them… It is a tactic and coalition, not a doctrine. If you pay attention to doctrine, program, and platform, you are listening to the magician’s patter instead of watching the magician’s off hand. The doctrines change too fast. If you pay attention to them you are being distracted by deliberate misdirection.
Leftism is not any one particular set of precepts, notions, goals, objectives … or demands. People who you could call leftist can call and have called for many different things at many different times; including things in one time that contradict things in other times. It is not a ‘checklist’, but a strategy; or more than that, an attitude. The consistency is never in the ideas, but in the targets. … Whenever that attitude pays, naturally there will be incentive to indulge in it, some kinds more prone than others… so, if you desire nice things, good things, great things… you make sure it [leftism] doesn’t pay. (And make sure such sorts of kinds don’t win the ‘continued existence’ sweepstakes.)
In order to have sex or get to the point of having sex or even get the attention of a woman with options you need to not behave in the ways that every leftist says you should… The #1 reason the left is dead is young intelligent men have to behave in non-leftist ways to hook up with the women they want.
[Women’s] perception of alpha is more primitive, cruel, uncivilized, and antisocial than that of men. Heartiste regularly gives us examples of alpha as women perceive alpha… We need to create a society that aligns female perception of alpha with the actual male hierarchy and with civilization, and such a society will necessarily resemble a savage society in the sense that a garden resembles a wilderness. For women to want to sleep with the man they should sleep with, the man they should sleep with needs to be able to kill adulterers and bastards. We cannot impose rules for prosocial behavior on high status males that run too far contrary to the primitive desires of women.
To put it another way, to preserve civilization we have to bend— return— norms of male behavior in the direction of what makes a man desirable to women. We don’t want to go all the way to that, Lord no! But we must use it in designing society.
(Yeah, talking about “designing society” is simplification and Overlord LARPing, but that’s the idea.)
“Personal trust and caring relationships do not scale.”
He wasn’t talking about immigration, but it certainly applies to that. The politics of immigration is largely, “We must admit those poooor, suffering refugees!” This hijacks sentiments evolved for dealing with people who had some genetic relationship to you, or were at least not actively hostile to you, and uses those sentiments to induce you to admit unfriendly foreigners within your walls.
“I know that I am conscious. And when I get into a disagreement with a snake or with tree ants on my property, they compellingly persuade me that they are conscious also. In a conflict, you are forced to model your opponent, and modeling a living opponent as a video game ai opponent does not work too well.”
I don’t agree about ants in particular, but that’s not relevant for the broader point, which is about consciousness and (if you think about it) about the evolution of certain features of evolved human intelligence like the tendency to attribute intentions to things we interact with.
This insight also has SERIOUS implications for dealing with women. Once I did something that scared the crap out of a woman. She treated me much more nicely after that. Why? Two reasons, actually:
The obvious reason is that I’d scared her.
The less obvious reason is that… (a) Because I’d scared her, she had to think about how I’d react to her behavior in the future. She didn’t want to piss me off again. (b) But thinking about how I’d react to her behavior requires her to model my internal states (thoughts, emotions). (c) But the very fact of modeling my internal states means treating me as a person, as an agent with thoughts, emotions, etc. Women do not think of men this way by default.
That they don’t is obvious from experience with women, as well as from e.g. Cosmopolitan that articles that reveal, in breathless tones, that your man actually has emotions. Seriously, you’ll be flipping through a Cosmo article that a college woman friend has, and there’ll be a lightning strike of a revelation like, “If you cheat on your boyfriend, he’ll feel humiliated and angry.” What a stunning insight! Yet women, or a significant chunk of them anyway, receive this kind of information as a revelation. I think that by default they basically perceive men as robots. They have to be shocked into seeing you as an actual person.
The only possible response to weaponized holiness is not to say “misguided and impractical virtue and goodness”, but to denounce their beliefs as evil, self serving, and demonic, and attribute to them the intention to do what most holiness spiraling movements wind up doing: Mass murder and mass destruction. Any attempt to ally with a holiness spiraled movement always winds up as a one way alliance, because they view you as evil, and a tool to be used and then destroyed. A holiness spiraling faction always assimilates or destroys its allies, and frequently both. That is inherent in the nature of weaponized moral superiority.
(9) At https://blog.jim.com/war/the-reactionary-program/, Jim’s comment at 2019-03-16 at 20:15 emphasizes the point that we don’t move left forever, despite the “Cthulhu only swims left” meme. (Or to put it another way, maybe he does only swim left, but he’s not always in power.) An excerpt from his comment:
No, we have not always been moving left. It does not go all the way back.
We have been getting lefter for a very long time, but if you go back far enough, to the British civil war and the French revolution, you see today’s leftists all over again.
As Kipling’s poem “The Gods of the Copybook Headings” tells us, leftism expires over and over again in terror and slaughter, and the Gods of the Copybook headings return, over and over again.
Leftism destroys itself, there’s a counterrevolution of sanity, then leftism starts up again. The dynamics are basically long steady movement left, then when it gets ultra-extreme it’s destroyed, whether through its own unworkability or a civil war. Then, the human race refusing to learn, it starts up again. Another relevant Jim quote: “Trees don’t grow forever, but they do grow until they fall over.”
It looks like the man with the most children is Genghis Khan or Ismail Ibn Sharif, who essentially had harems. And all the super-successful men listed all seem to follow that pattern, except for a few sperm donors. Obviously sperm donors wouldn’t have existed in the ancestral environment.
And all those guys who were wealthy and powerful enough to have harems, probably also ensured their sons married well. Ismail Ibn Sharif’s sons probably often had several wives apiece, meaning that if he had 700 sons and 500ish daughters, he easily could have had 20,000 grandchildren. Same for Genghis Khan.
So we would expect men to want harems. Not that men can’t reproduce monogamously, but if you give a man sexual options (e.g. he’s rich, or famous), expect him to build a harem.
From Brown’s second comment (in WordPress’s fuckwitted interface it’s too much of a PITA to put the whole thing in bold):
Continuing this logic, the woman with the most children is Mrs. Feodor Vassilyev. She was just a peasant woman with a tendency to have twins/triplets/etc). Or, if we don’t believe her, some similar story. The women with the most children are mostly peasants, who got pregnant a lot, and had a lot of twins.
However, she had 67 children, and those children were probably not reproductively successful themselves. They likely had compromised health (67 kids is hard on the mother, and on the kids), and a peasant family with 67 kids isn’t going to be able to have money for a dowry, or to help their son build a career. She probably only had 100 grandkids.
Actually, the most reproductively successful woman was probably Hoelun, the mother of Genghis Khan. She gave Genghis half her DNA, and thus got half of his success. If he had 1,000 children, she had significantly more than 1,000 grandchildren. (Genghis Khan had three brothers, who had kids, too)
Essentially, the way for a woman to reproduce at a fantastic rate, is for her to ensure that her sons all have harems.
In other words, I would expect women to want a monogamous marriage, with a fantastically wealthy and high-status husband. The kind of man whose sons will each have a bunch of wives and concubines.
And by “monogamous”, I mean that her husband’s resources will go entirely to her children. In principle, this doesn’t necessarily imply sexual monogamy. Roman monogamy, essentially. Where you can screw as many women as you like, but you can only marry one.
This logic probably holds in Afghanistan, too. A rich man, who only has one wife, is probably going to make her fantastically reproductively successful. She’s going to have 7 kids, and all her sons are probably going to have four wives. She’ll probably have over 100 grandchildren.
…I would expect women to want a version of Genghis Khan that wants to be dedicated to her, and her children.
And Steve Johnson responded to Brown with,
[Women] would be best served by trying to birth Genghis Khan but they have bad mental algorithms for finding him – more accurately they have good mental algorithms for finding him under the historical constraints that they were under but those algorithms fail badly in the modern environment.
“All religion is a conspiracy by men and their grandmothers to impose a more civilized mating pattern onto their daughters and wives.”
(11) I don’t agree with this community’s views on everything. For example, the discussion at https://blog.jim.com/uncategorized/praise-the-holy-starprophet/#comments illustrates one of the problems with the “Jimian” worldview: Its view of status is one-dimensional, whereas in reality status is multi-dimensional. The Jimian view of status is that it’s all a question of who can commit violence against whom with impunity. In reality that’s only one dimension of a thing that has like six or seven dimensions.
The other mistake is that it’s way too dark, too black-pilled. When thugs beat up innocent people, the vast majority of people who witness this are outraged at the assailant and seethe to see him punished. They don’t suddenly want to be on the assailant’s side because he’s “the strong horse.” Indeed, the “civil rights” movement of the 1960s won largely by showing blacks being attacked by white police on TV, thus generating sympathy for the blacks. The sympathy went to the victims, not the assailants.
“Osama Bin Laden’s 50 siblings, which enabled him to take such risks and yet not have his entire lineage destroyed.”
Wow. Can’t believe this isn’t a more widely-mentioned point. If I have 50 siblings and I die in a risky venture, veritably 100% of my genes are veritably guaranteed to be passed on anyway. That could be really important from an evo psych point of view.
Math: If I have one sibling the percent of my genes that aren’t instantiated in my sibling is 1/2 (statistically). If I have two siblings the percent of my genes that aren’t instantiated in my siblings is 1/4. In general, if have n siblings, the percent of my genes that aren’t instantiated in my siblings is 1/(2^n). So if I have 50 siblings, the percent of my genes that aren’t instantiated in my siblings is 1/(2^50) = 1/(1.1 quadrillion).
Given that genes are a discrete set (i.e. not continuously subdivisible), it’s really exactly zero. That is, all of my genes are copied in my siblings.
As a front the Left is powerful, but it is made up of inferior specimens.
In general that’s a good comment by MacLear:
“The most effective insults against leftism aren’t pointing out the difference between their beliefs and reality. It’s direct mockery of their status, outing them as ineffectual losers. As a front the Left is powerful, but it is made up of inferior specimens.
It’s mocking Bezos for being rich and powerful but still thirsting over ugly old divorcees.
It’s mocking the catlady for dying childless…
It’s mocking the numale [from “new male,” presumably] for never getting a scrap of pussy because of his enlightened soy-based masculinity.”
“The most significant thing to have happened recently is that there are no intelligent well-intentioned leftists under 40, and no intelligent White leftists under 30. The priesthood has forsaken the intelligentsia, which is now the alt-right.”
The phrase ‘surely they’ve gone far enough’ implies a degree of conscious rectitude, which only applies to persons of honor and loyalty who are earnest in their workings towards a clearly defined objective.
It doesn’t apply to people caught in the grip of a left singularity; they can’t stop even if they wanted too…
There is no such thing, in fact, as a ‘set doctrine’ in such a body; it is ever shifting, as each individual player must keep running to stay the same place in the status hierarchy. Yesterday’s [left-wing] avant-garde is today’s [right-wing] heresy. If they are not amongst the first ones to champion the ‘next step’ down the line, they risk peril at the hands of those who do. Either you do the backstabbing, or find yourself getting backstabbed.
It is the act of defection, the change itself, that is the essential consistency of the dynamic. The spiraling process must keep finding new positions to jump too, regardless of rhyme or reason, or else the whole dynamic collapses; the same way a shark must keep swimming, or else it drowns.
Here are edited-down excerpts from four articles based on interviews with current or former prosititutes. They’re quite varied in how they say that market works, and I don’t find them all equally believable. But here at Neurotoxin, we report, you decide!
(1)What It’s Like to Be a Madam for the Richest Guys in America By former Las Vegas escort and madam Jami Rodman, as told to Cheryl Wischhover, Jan 6, 2016
From the Intro: “Jami Rodman became a Las Vegas escort after getting divorced at 22. She started as a stripper, which she claims she wasn’t good at. That progressed to going out on “paid dates” with men at strip club events, which eventually led to her becoming an independent escort. She later started her own high-end escort agency, which she ran as a madam for about three years, until she was outed when an exposé revealed that former Olympic runner Suzy Favor Hamilton was an escort at the agency.” [Interesting.]
At the top of my game when I was escorting, I easily made $3,000 a day. That would be about three clients, sometimes one, sometimes four, but by the time I got to the last guy, I couldn’t remember the name of the first. That’s when it started to really feel like work and less like a fun time.
[Note that it started out as “a fun time.” Whether prostitutes are happy or not is not a function of prostitution as such; it’s a function of their particular situation. This is a theme that emerges throughout these articles, particularly the next one.]
I was escorting for maybe three years and had sugar daddies a couple years, then got into a serious relationship and pulled away from the business. I had stopped escorting and was running an art business. All of a sudden, we had the recession hit and people were not spending money on art. I started escorting again and very quickly started dating a client. He was an attorney and the escort agency was his idea [!]. He helped me start it, and drew up all the paperwork. I was running both businesses and the escorting agency shot through the roof. I didn’t escort at the time because it was very hard to run a business like that plus escort. I really had to work 24 hours a day for at least a year. I had two or three cell phones, and was always taking calls.
At the busiest point, there were 60 women in the agency. When I started it was just six or seven of my friends who had been in the industry. I did screening and marketing, but they were responsible for their own success. If they only wanted to work once a week that was fine with me. Word got around that this agency was doing really well, I was great to work for, I didn’t charge exorbitant rates, so they started coming from all over the world. There are a lot of girls who work on tour and they travel to all the big cities. If you’re a working girl and you go to Vegas, you can make money. There’s somebody looking for companionship at all hours.
It was so much different as a madam because I was running a business, which means I was paying taxes. I paid an assistant, and I paid for photo shoots every month, and anywhere from 40 percent of your income goes to marketing. When clients were not happy, we offered a discount because that’s customer service. If I was in business for money, I never would have run an escort agency. [Wait, what? I think you’re doing it wrong.] I was making connections and making the industry safer for both sides of it. [So you did this as a charity and for “making connections”? Seriously, the best way for you to make connections was to run a whorehouse?! I don’t believe this story for a picosecond. Maybe she actually was in it to make money but it turned out harder than she thought it would be.]
The girls really did charge their own rates. Some were $500 per hour, some $600 or $1,000.
[A thousand bucks per hour!? Whoa!]
When I ran the agency, I was working all day, everyday, and getting phone calls in the middle of dates, in the middle of having sex. I was a horrible partner. As an escort, if I’m having sex all day with clients, the last thing I want to do is go home and have crazy, wild sex with my boyfriend. Maybe I am very sexual in one part of my life, but there’s a sacrifice and that is when I’m in my downtime, I just want to chill. It’s tricky to find someone who first of all is not intimidated by past experiences…
[“Intimidated.” In other words, turned off by the fact that you’re an (ex?) whore. “Intimidated,” snort. So if you decline to bang a pussy that’s had a thousand cocks in it, it must be because you’re scared. Come to think of it, it would be quite reasonable to be scared of catching an STD, but obviously that’s not what she means.
I’ve noticed that women have two main ways of trying to manipulate men (aside from getting other people involved to apply pressure): One is the implicit promise of sex, of course, and the other is some variation on “Bawk, bawk, you’re chicken! If you don’t do what I want you to do, it’s because you’re skeeeeeeered!” Don’t want to marry a prostitute? Ha, coward!]
In this article, Cosmo interviews three “sex worker” women. Here’s a sample of the questions and answers:
What kind of sex work do/did you do?
Woman A: I currently perform in porn, and I used to do all sorts of other sex work — professional domination, camming, escorting, phone sex, hands-on sex education, erotic modeling, and live sex shows.
Woman B: I was a hooker.
Woman C: First and foremost, sex work is an inaccurate description. The terms “sex work” and “sex worker” sanitize the harms in prostitution. Sex is not work; it is exploitation and denial of human rights based on vulnerabilities and power imbalances between the oppressor and the oppressed. For me, stripping and survival sex were gateways to prostitution resulting from vulnerabilities including economic inequality, substance abuse, and the need for survival.
[Wow, a burst of Dworkinite rhetoric that could have been produced by a feminist random word generator. Was Woman C ever really a prostitute? She sounds like a Women’s Studies major who decided to strike a blow against the Patriarchy or whatever by responding to Cosmo’s call for interviewees.]
Woman A: After working three jobs at a mall that an hour and a half walk away, working for an hour to make the same amount seemed obvious. Sex work was a way to see firsthand how diverse human sexuality was while also being paid for it. [It was really just anthropology fieldwork, you see.] Later, when I began escorting specifically, it was because I felt ethically better about it than I did working in marketing for a large corporation that employed sweatshop labor. I particularly worked with people who had disabilities and women who had dealt with sexual trauma, helping them rediscover their bodies…
[Jeez, the self-justifying rationalizations! I doubt this woman is a serious lefty like Woman C, but note how she uses lefty rhetoric: blah corporation blah sweatshop. And you gotta love the random veering comparison to a completely irrelevant alternative: “Why were you a whore? “Better than something something sweatshop!” Reminds me of this exchange from The Tao of Steve: Dex : Doing stuff is overrated. Like Hitler. He did a lot. But don’t we all wish he woulda just stayed home and gotten stoned? Syd : Oh, I see. So your only options are to get stoned or commit genocide? By the way, The Tao of Steve is a great red-pill movie, until the end, when the playah gets one-itis for one chick.]
Woman C: Childhood issues from mental health and alcoholism in my family groomed me for prostitution and other forms of sexual exploitation. Substance abuse, homelessness, date rape, teen dating violence, gang rape, and police brutality were some experiences in my youth that groomed me for sexual exploitation.
[So summarizing: I was a homeless druggie (OK, I can believe this I guess) and rape, rape, and more rape caused me to become a prostitute. Wait, you skipped a step. How does being multiple raped apparently twice per day and thrice on Saturdays cause you to become a prostitute? Also, what does police brutality have to do with turning you into a prostitute? A cop beat you up, therefore you had to quit journalism school (see below) and become a prostitute?]
Who are your clients? What do you think brings them to you?
Woman A: My clients are, for the most part, a mixture of curious couples, shy women, and men who have social anxiety or a physical disability. I think it’s because my profile is approachable, but it’s also not the standard “I’m the woman of your fantasies” type of marketing. I present a good sense of humor and affirming language, as well as an awareness of social justice politics, [WHAT THE FUCK?!] and I think the sort of clients I get are attracted to that.
[Okay, I was wrong about Woman A; she is a lefty, just not as foaming-at-the-mouth as Woman C. Also, it’s amazing that she thinks displaying “ an awareness of social justice politics” is an attractive feature in a prostitute. How insane are leftists? Imagine a guy goes to a whore for a blowjob and she gives him a “Racism is evil” speech. Or better still, a “Women are oppressed by prostitution” speech.]
Woman C: A variety of sex buyers purchased me for sex [actually they rented you], including politicians and workers in large corporations in the tech industry. The demographics of sex buyers are broad, but they all operate on their inherent need to be in control, exert power, act out violence and other acts on a prostituted person.
And how do you feel about your clients?
Woman A: Well, how do you feel about your coworkers or your boss? Sometimes they’re lovely, sometimes they’re wearing on your last nerve. For the most part, I feel genuine affection for my clients; they’re really lovely people and respect me as well as my time and boundaries.
Woman B: Some of them were nice enough guys. Sometimes they’d buy me supper first, almost like it was a date, which was sweet. Those guys tended to be kind and respectful, and I’d happily go back to sex work in a heartbeat if I could only see those guys. Some of them were real creepers though…
Woman C: The buyers of sex are not clients — they are rapists. I felt repulsed and disgusted by them. Not one sex buyer was anything other than disgusting, degrading, dehumanizing, and harmful to my body, mind, and soul.
What do/did you enjoy about your job?
Woman A: The time flexibility. I could manage my schedule and fit clients in around my other whims and responsibilities. For example, when I was escorting, I could focus my time off work on my activism and my education, which was very important to me.
Woman B: I enjoyed the relative autonomy, and that it wasn’t, generally speaking, terribly difficult, especially for the pay. I liked some of the clients, and it was sort of validating for me — I’d grown up believing that I was ugly, and as a young teenager I had an eating disorder. That part of me liked feeling like I was showing up the people who’d told me that I wasn’t good enough.
Woman C: Not one thing. The life of prostitution is a horrific form of violence against (largely) women. It was nowhere near enjoyable.
How much money do/did you make doing sex work?
Woman A: I adjusted my lifestyle so that I could work one or two days a month [!] and pay rent as well as groceries, so while I didn’t make bank the way others can, I preferred to work less and have more time to pursue my other interests… I’m a bit of a gutter punk at heart so don’t need a lot to feel satisfied.
[She supported herself working one or two days a month? Holy crap!]
Do/did you have other jobs at the same time? If so, did your coworkers know, or were you worried they’d find out you do sex work?
Woman C: Yes, I worked in journalism industry for a short period of time simultaneously. However, it quickly became impossible to uphold two different lifestyles and the money didn’t compare.
[Whoops, she forgot to keep her story straight. First it was “I was forced into it by date rape and violent cops,” but now it’s “The money was better.” Also, she said in an earlier passage I elided, “The exchange of currency doesn’t change the fact that it is rape, because you don’t want to be there and wouldn’t be there except for your economic need.” Now she’s saying, “Actually I didn’t have economic need because I had another job, but whoring paid better, so…”
Also, undoubtedly the ethics of whoring are better than the ethics of modern journalism.]
What are the biggest misconceptions people have about sex workers and sex work?
Woman A: That sex workers are all doing it to fund a drug addiction, that we’re doing sex work because we either don’t have any other option, that we’re uneducated… All of those may be true for some people and is completely untrue for others … like if you substituted “retail” for “sex work.”
Woman B: One of the big ones — and one that really bugs me — is the idea that no one would choose to do sex work, or that all sex workers are being exploited (which often comes with the implication that they’re not smart enough to realize it). It strikes me as very paternalistic — sort of, “if you’re not doing what I think you should do, it’s because you’re not smart enough to realize that I’m right.” But many women choose sex work — it pays relatively well, allows flexibility, and allows some control over what you’re doing. Sex workers aren’t stupid. They might not be making the choices that you would make, but they might be making the best choices for themselves.
Woman C: That there is a choice. Individuals don’t willingly enter exploitation; it comes from a myriad of vulnerabilities. For example, in a nine country study, 89 percent of exploited women wanted to exit but had no other means for survival.
“A safe and happy childhood eluded Jenny; who only managed to escape her sexually abusive stepfather by running away from home as a teenager. Things didn’t get any easier, though — from the time she was 16 well into her 30s, she managed to date assholes: guys who hit her, scammed her, abused her, and robbed her.”
[Yes, by some unfortunate coincidence, all the guys she dated for twenty years just happened to be abusers! What a run of bad luck!]
There’s a lot less sex than you’d think
Once upon a time, Jenny arranged for three women to accompany three wealthy men for a three-day weekend in the Caribbean. That’s two overnight stays in the same hotel room. No sex happened that she knows of. Each girl collected $2,000 a night, plus made extensive use of the resort’s room service and spa to ring up a five-figure bill.
“You probably already know this, but most stripping and hooking isn’t really about sex,” Jenny said. “It’s about companionship, being made to feel important. For the worst clients, it’s about enforcing power. You can do a lot of those things with your clothes on. For some things, it’s easier without the sex.” Over the course of her time as a madame, Jenny guesses only about 75% of her paying clients actually had actual sex… and that number would go to about half if you only counted penetration to orgasm as “actual sex.”
…a surprising number of Jenny’s workers simply gave back rubs and basic spa treatments.
‘Dark red, you know the one, like blood. I forget the name. Anyway, he wants that on your toes. Light-pink manicure – fresh, innocent. So what’s next? Underwear, yes. He wants you in La Perla, off-white. Corsetry. Nothing whorish.’ Lauren (All names have been changed.), 31, is mimicking her madam, putting on a breathy Parisian accent, adding a few Gallic gestures for effect. ‘He’s a nice guy, veeery discreet. Remember: act like you know him. Packing, let’s see: a cocktail dress – black, whips, lube…’ She laughs, returning to her own voice, which has a faint Scandinavian lilt. ‘And that was my life for 10 years. I was a high-class hooker. Call me a courtesan, call girl, escort, whatever you want. But basically I was a hooker. Just very well paid.’ She looks at her ring, an enormous pear-shaped diamond, and adjusts it. ‘Very well paid.’
On condition of anonymity (‘I don’t want my legs broken’), Lauren has agreed to talk about her life as a high-class prostitute. She earned £10,000 a night – at her peak £20,000, and £40,000 for a weekend. (‘No one earns that money now,’ she says. ‘Prices have gone down in the last five years. Changing times.’) [Prices fell after the world economy recovered from the Great Recession?! (The article is from 2014.) Uh, no, honey, you aged out so you can’t command as high a price.]
She travelled aboard private jets and yachts to Monaco, St Tropez, St Barth’s, Barbados and Malibu… the Cannes Film Festival, the Miami Art Basel, the Met Ball, the Monaco Grand Prix. ‘Our clients were on the Forbes list. Men who owned countries, private islands, people who were huge in property, big-scale retail, international industry and oil. I’ve had dinner with royalty and major politicians. If you knew who! These clients were – are – powerful, powerful men.’
Aristocrats? ‘No. They don’t pay. It’s new money. Having a hooker for them is nothing – like having butter on their bread. Sometimes their wives knew and turned a blind eye, sometimes they didn’t [know].’
We are in Lauren’s house in Chelsea. She lives with her husband, who was not a client – ‘I got lucky’ – and who disapproves of her talking about her past.
She says her look – extraordinary pale hair, gas-blue eyes, peachy skin – ‘was the look everyone wanted. They don’t want skinny models, they want a little bit of…’ She plumps her cleavage. ‘But nothing fake.’ Like others girls in her earnings bracket, Lauren is clever. She speaks several languages (Swedish, French, English). She used to read the Financial Times and The Economist to stay abreast of world events, as well as fashion magazines ‘for style’. ‘These clients want someone who can hold a conversation at a cocktail party or dinner. You can’t be like [she puts on a thick Slavic accent], “Er, my name is Svetlana. My father work in factory.” Although some girls do come from that background.’
Lauren says there are two ‘major’ madams in London right now, both women, and that they supply girls all over Europe and to the States. One is English, ‘but her background is not English. Big woman. Looks like a frog.’ Lauren’s was French, ‘in her 50s, very elegant’, lives in north-west London and has dominated the industry for 20 years. She has ‘the best, best girls. She has the top 10 girls right now. They are seriously beautiful. They look like models.’
How does her madam recruit? ‘She has scouts, who work like model scouts, trawling hot clubs and bars and model parties. And girls find her. Some come through contacts. Mostly they are models, strippers or dancers. Or students. They are smart and pretty, pretty. There are young actresses too. Sometimes recognisable faces.’
Lauren’s madam worked with a man who was ‘friendly with all the top model agencies. He’d pretend to be a Saudi prince and sleep with models. Then he’d tell them they could earn £10,000 a night and they’d say, “Oh really? Here’s my number.'” At other times, he might proposition a pretty girl by offering large amounts of money for sex. ‘Ninety-nine per cent of the time she’ll tell him where to go. But the seed is planted. Next time she sees him, she might say, “OK, tell me more.'”
There’s also a place in Paris she’ll send top girls to learn about sex, all the tricks. Paris is unbelievable for that stuff.’ Are the girls nervous? She laughs. ‘You can’t have nerves! These girls are tough. And there’s a numbness – it’s work. We don’t care about clients. A lot [of girls] come from not-great backgrounds.’ She trails off. ‘Let’s just say there’s a reason why they’re doing what they’re doing.’
‘The very least you’ll be paying is £1,000 a night – those are the get-’em-in, get-’em-out service girls.’ They’re booked for events like ‘the big weekend shoots’, or to sit in a nightclub, ‘making some sleazy guy look good’. She continues: ‘The mid-range are the majority – £5,000 a night up. A lot of Russians. They’re usually exceptionally beautiful but maybe didn’t cut it modelling. Most of the mid-range guys aren’t mega-mega – they’re wealthy-banker league.’
Girls are sent ‘to etiquette classes, to learn how to sit, eat, which knife, fork, which glass for the white, for the red. It can’t be obvious to the other dinner guests that she’s a prostitute.’ It sounds very My Fair Lady – albeit a pornographic version. [Actually it sounds like a naive fabulist’s idea of what “high-class courtesan” training is like, gleaned from cheesy movies. I half expected her to say that the training includes several martial arts and knife fighting.] ‘But not all the girls are badly educated,’ she adds. ‘There are students, girls with private school backgrounds rebelling against Daddy.’ She tells of a girl from a fabulous background who fell in love with a client. ‘And the client left his wife and three children for her.’ Do many girls marry out of the game? ‘Not as many as you’d think,’ she says. ‘It’s not Pretty Woman. But then again, a lot of society women started out this way.’
What makes a £10,000-£20,000 girl? ‘Looks and training. We were professionals. We’d need to be funny, a laugh, party all night. Or cool and clever, discreet and well-mannered. You could never be fazed by power or mega money – or what you were asked to do.’ She says the top girls are ‘healthy’ – they go to the gym. ‘They don’t do drugs, smoke or drink. Sometimes you’re up all night, you need to look after yourself.’
‘An absolutely stunning girl might not be so bright, or her English isn’t good. She’ll go to Arab clients. They want a beautiful girl they can lock in a room and bang, bang, bang.’ She pauses. ‘But they pay well.’
Does that mean other clients treat girls well? ‘Yes, but…’ She takes a deep breath. ‘A lot of these guys are seriously fucked up. If they’re married, their wives don’t do what they want. No woman in her sane mind would do half of it.’ She describes unprintable scenes and remembers being put in ‘an exceptionally expensive outfit so that the client could [urinate] on it’. One European royal ‘who has hookers all the time’ is so rough that Lauren’s madam refuses to send her best girls. A famous film director offered to make Lauren famous ‘if I didn’t use a condom’. She refused. ‘And one guy – you definitely know his name – wanted to be a baby girl dressed as a ballerina. We had to smack him and put things up his bum.’
In addition to their fees (which were paid to the madam – ‘no money changes hands with the girl’), clients would take them shopping for tens of thousands of pounds’ worth of clothes. Retirement age is 28, ‘latest 30’, Lauren says. ‘They need to earn enough to send home, or to put away for their future.’ (Lauren invested in property.) She says there’s an upper echelon of exclusive prostitutes, the famous ex-models, It girls and actresses, who charge for their celebrity premium. ‘They have a longer shelf life.’ Lauren cites six, including a former Victoria’s Secret model, who charged ‘£25,000 an hour. That’s a lot of money, so good for her.’
Through Lauren, I meet Anna, 24, who is currently working as a prostitute. She’s braless under her white T-shirt but it doesn’t look tarty – it looks hip, unbothered, sexy. She has a loose sweep of caramel-blonde hair, parted roughly in the middle – the kind of girl you might see hoicking her modelling portfolio around Paris. She remembers the ‘cheap fake-fur coat’ she was wearing when she stepped off the plane five years ago from Russia. Her modelling career failed because ‘there were a million Eastern European girls like me at the agency. I couldn’t earn proper money.’
Anna refuses to discuss her madam (or ‘agent’, as she calls her), but says she was introduced by another model. Most of her clients are financiers – ‘hedgefunders, CEOs, rich businessmen who like to travel. I can make £5,000 a night. Sometimes £10,000 or £15,000 for a weekend.’ She says the other girls ‘are nice, we’re often booked in groups’.
I ask Anna how she sees her future. ‘Maybe I’ll marry a rich man,’ she says. ‘If not, I’ll start my own business.’ Does she think she’ll ever fall in love? Have children? Have a normal life? ‘Maybe. I hope.’ She shrugs. ‘It’s hard to think about it. Right now, I just want to make money.’
The Paris Sex School Lessons: Knowledge of all sexual positions, including the unusual (eg, reverse cowgirl). How to perform the world’s best oral sex. Including how to relax your throat muscles and how to incorporate other male parts. Light bondage (how to be dominant, rope tying, light spanking and whips). Exercises to develop core muscles (internal grip), thigh muscles and balance – crucial for domination. How to use your fingers and tongue to best effect, and when. Grooming and cleanliness (eg, no hair around bikini line and ensuring there are no unsightly ‘accidents’). How to look as if you’re enjoying it as much as they are (eye contact, appearing to take your time, faking orgasm). How, when and where to use a vibrator. Three or moresomes – how to work together in order to maximise pleasure. Business. Keep him satisfied; ensure repeat custom.
“About 85 percent of female students identified as heterosexual and about 90 percent only had male sexual partners… about 13 percent of heterosexual females and about 14 percent of females who only had male sexual partners had been pregnant, compared to about 23 percent of lesbian or bisexual females and about 20 percent of girls who had male and female sexual partners.”
Then we get this statement from an “expert”:
“What really accounted for most of the risk for the girls was sexual behavior,” Lindley said.
Thank you for that.
I was initially going to report on this with the comment that lesbianism may just be another shit test, as I am not the first person to conjecture. Not to deny that, but it’s also true, apparently, that “gay” male teens get more girls pregnant than “straight” male teens. What the fuck?! And apparently young women’s reporting of themselves as gay, straight, or bi doesn’t have a hell of a lot to do with who they’re doing:
Numerous studies across many nations find that sexual-minority youth aged 14 to 19 have pregnancy rates two to seven times greater than their heterosexual peers… Only one study to date, published earlier this year, has examined the pregnancy rates of adult sexual-minority women. It reveals the same thing: unintended pregnancies are higher among sexual-minority women than their heterosexual peers…
Not only is female sexuality itself fluid, but so are the personal identifiers women choose for themselves. Remarkably, more than 50 percent of women who had both male and female partners in the last year identify not as bi-sexual or lesbian, but as heterosexual. Eleven percent of women who have known only female sex partners identify as heterosexual, and—remarkably—only 19 percent of women who’ve ever had sex with another woman consider themselves either “lesbian” or “homosexual.” A young woman recently told me that she is a lesbian, but her sexual attraction is to men. Apparently she’s not an outlier.
That last one is simply a bid for attention and a claim of privilege, i.e. oppression privilege. When you create a reward for being X, more people are going to claim to be X, obviously. It is sad, too, that we’ve lost words like heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, lesbian, etc. But that’s life in a leftist regime: No word’s plain meaning is safe.
The book cataloging site LibraryThing has a standing community project called Name That Book where people ask for help identifying books they’ve read but the titles of which they’ve forgotten. The Romance requests are revealing from the content of the requests, and often just from the titles of the requests. E.g. …
Request details: I have been looking for the title of this book for MONTHS. I read this over a decade ago, so some of the details are fuzzy. What I remember is the heroine has inherited her land from her father and she doesn’t want to get married because she doesn’t want to give up her independence, but this guy swoops in and pretty much forces her to.
Thread title: Romance: inheritance, western. “…He’s pretty rough, and mean. At one point they get stuck in the snow together out in a cabin, have a snowball fight, he spanks her. They end up together, of course…”
“Historical romance fiction. Identical twin sisters sent to live with unknown (twin) aunt of their dad after he dies from New York to out West. One sister disguises her beauty (bottle glasses which cause her to be accident prone and frumpy clothes) because of her twin, the “beautiful” twin would steal the other twin’s beaus. Also, father favored the beautiful sister over the other. Find out later that he did this with his other sibling. Get left in their stagecoach in a small town because the beautiful twin is too demanding. Aunt sends a cowboy to find them. Cowboy thinks he falls in love with the beautiful sister, but in reality it is the one in disguise. He gets confused with how the beautiful sister acts towards him after sharing a kiss and he blames her horrible behavior on the circumstances. The ugly sister keeps it a secret, but the beautiful sister figures it out and sleeps with him. Aunt realizes the ugly twin’s disguise and learns that she is waiting for her sister to get married before she sheds her disguise, she is even willing to allow the cowboy to marry her sister. Sister runs off with cowboys rivalry who owns the bar/gambling house. Aunt causes a shot gun wedding for beautiful sister and the guy who owns the bar/gambling house. Cowboy figures out what happened. They all go to New York and the former ugly twin believes she has seen her father. Turns out their father actually fakes his own death because he got his mistress pregnant [Yawn. I always fake my own death after I get my mistress pregnant.] and the beautiful twin was just too expensive and the mistress gave him a boy and wanted the son to be his heir. I think one of the twins name may be Amanda.”
By the same author: Tender is the Storm. Yes, seriously. But the title is only the half of it. Check out the cover: He’s actually tit-fucking her!
“I read a book… about a 19th century Englishwoman shipwrecked along the Arab coast, captured by Tuareg Berbers [whoever the fuck they were] and sold to an Oxford-educated handsome sheik.”
This request is funny for the way it starts: “I am looking for an historical romance I read some time in the last 1-2 years. I don’t remember the title, author or characters names.” LOL. How disposable is this stuff if you can’t remember anything about it after 1 or 2 years? I suspect women buy these, have a wank or two over them, then toss them. Why oh why can’t women be more ecologically responsible?
Every year since 1972, the General Social Survey has asked a representative sample of American adults how happy they are. In 1972, women reported being a bit happier than men. Each year since, despite the achievements of feminism, women’s reported happiness has declined, both in absolute terms and when compared with men’s. [“Despite”?] Around 1990, the sexes passed each other, and since then, women have reported being less happy than men, and less happy than their mothers and grandmothers were at the same stage of life.
A 2011 study found that women were two and a half times as likely as men to be taking an antidepressant. Recent data on suicide rates between 2000 and 2016 show a 21 percent increase for men, but a 50 percent increase for women. Among middle-aged women, the increase was 60 percent.
“SSRIs (selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors) are used by at least 25 percent of American women between ages 40-50. The national average stands at around 10%.”
Vice, predictably, casts its discussion as “The misogynistic patriarchal medical industry is forcing anti-depressants on women.” But if you read for the facts, as opposed to the breathless leftist editorializing about the facts, you learn things about how unhappy modern women are.
WOMEN are moody. By evolutionary design, we are hard-wired to be sensitive to our environments, empathic to our children’s needs and intuitive of our partners’ intentions. This is basic to our survival and that of our offspring.
Being moody also encourages women to shit test, since an emotionally stable woman wouldn’t use the “act like a hysterical bitch for no reason out of the blue” shit test.
At least one in four women in America now takes a psychiatric medication, [!] compared with one in seven men. Women are nearly twice as likely to receive a diagnosis of depression or anxiety disorder than men are… Medical chart reviews consistently show that doctors are more likely to give women psychiatric medications than men, especially women between the ages of 35 and 64.
Modern women are increasingly unhappy. The insane and evil feminist ideology in the air pushes women toward behaviors – casual sex and pairing up with mushy men – that are the opposite of what they are evolutionarily adapted for.
Feminist women are wracked by especially sharp internal conflicts: Their biological hardware and their socially-installed software force them in opposite directions.
Her biological hardware yearns for a man who won’t kiss her ass. Her feminist software tells her a man who doesn’t kiss her ass is “oppressing” her.
She shit tests a man because her genetically-hardwired program compels her to do so. She shrieks inside with hard-wired revulsion at a man who takes her crap. But if he doesn’t take her crap her feminist software screams at her, “You’re being oppressed!”
A large fraction of feminists admit to being on anti-depressants. Is it any wonder?
What must it be like to be under the spell of false ideas which make you miserable, but to lack the intellectual ability to identify the falshoods and reject them? To be unable to admit the vile ideology that has ensnared you? God, that must be hell.
One might pity feminists, if they weren’t so insane and evil and resistant to admitting the truth about what they want and what natural male-female relations look like.
Their inner turmoil must be agonizing.
But if we let them play out their internal struggle and pain in the external world of politics, they will destroy the western world. They are destroying it; their assault on the presumption of innocence and social institutions that facilitate family formation already has moved us far down the path of destruction.
Since little or no new information on the political situation appeared over the Thanksgiving break and we’re not likely to get any until Monday, here’s some lighter material.
In the Red Pill in Fiction posts on Alpha Trio and Suddenly Royal I wrote that female authors often fantasize that they (via their author-insert character) will get the alpha by being “feisty,” and that this seems to be a form of snowflaking. On Suddenly Royal I wrote,
This is stated explicitly in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, in the last few pages (Ch 18 of Vol. III). When Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy get engaged, she says,
“Now be sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?”
“For the liveliness of your mind, I did.”
“You may as well call it impertinence at once… The fact is, you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking and looking, and thinking for your approbation alone. I aroused, and interested you, because I was so unlike them… You thoroughly despised the persons who so assidiously courted you.”
Here it is explicitly, from the horse’s mouth. As I type these notes up it occurs to me that female projection is another reason for this trope of female-authored fiction. That last sentence, “You thoroughly despised the persons who so assidiously courted you,” is the female reaction to any man who seems to really desire her. So: snowflaking plus projection.
There’s other red pill stuff in this novel too. E.g. the main male character, Darcy, comes across as a completely rude asshole at first but then falls for the heroine and they fall in love and get married. At a ball, a mutual acquaintance offers Darcy to introduce him to Elizabeth. Elizabeth is sitting right there. Here’s Darcy’s nuclear neg which is the first thing he says to her… or rather, about her:
“Which do you mean?” and turning round, he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said, “She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”
LOL, what an asshole. They end up engaged. Pride and Prejudice was written by a woman in 1813 and is arguably the most famous and popular work of chick-lit in the English language. (The only other contender is Gone With the Wind.) Tell me, go ahead, tell me, that Game is just a bunch of nonsense that some male PUA nutters made up in the 1990s.
More: Later, when they have a little spat he tells her, “Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?” LOL. Your family sux! Now get on your knees and get on my cock, bitch!
In the end– surprise!– the asshole falls for the heroine. And, bonus, he turns out to have a heart of gold: Darcy pays off a man who was threatening to run off with Elizabeth’s sister without marrying her, thus ruining her reputation. He does this solely because he’s so in loooooove with Elizabeth. So you see, he’s an asshole… Who Really Has A Heart Of Gold Underneath It All.
Oh yeah, thoughts on the novel as a novel: You know, it’s actually not that bad. (I know, I was surprised too!) What happens is, because it’s a classic of chick lit loaded with shopworn tropes like the jerk who really has a heart of gold, etc. you think it’s going to be one huge wedge of cheese dropped on your head like Dorothy’s house landing on the Wicked Witch of the East. Actually, there’s a good deal of humor, which the admirers of this novel really should play up more if they want to effectively proselytize on its behalf. For example, consider the well-known opening sentence:
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
I always read this as a straight line, as if Jane Austen actually believed it. Ha, no. The passage, and indeed the rest of the novel, proceeds in a way that makes it clear that she’s joking:
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
And then we swing right into this bit of dialogue:
“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?” Mr. Bennet replied that he had not. “But it is,” returned she; “for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it.” Mr. Bennet made no answer. “Do you not want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife impatiently. “You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.” This was invitation enough. “Why, my dear, you must know…”
In other words, social satire with understated English humor.
Due to its droll comedy-of-manners humor and its generally well-written dialogue, I am afraid this novel is not even a serious contender for the coveted Ten Chunks of Cheese prize. I can award it several chunks due to its “bad boy who eventually falls for the heroine… and turns out to be rich” blurt, directly from the Universal Female Id. We’ll call it six chunks of cheese. Sorry, Jane Austen, but the state of the art in female porn romance cheese has really advanced since 1813. Your competition is much tougher now. Good effort, though.