Chris Brown, who’s convinced that he’s apologized enough for what he calls his “mishap.”

Over on his little chateau, otherwise known as a blog, the pick-up Heartiste Formerly Known as Roissy suggests a rather unusual role model for young and not-so-young men hoping to impress women with their alphaness: Chris Brown. Not for being a charismatic singer, but for that time he nearly beat Rihanna to death.

Oh, you don’t have to literally beat up women to be an alpha. Just work on making them uncomfortable and insecure.

Maxim #19: Making a woman feel a little emotional pain will reward you a thousandfold in returned physical pleasure.

You don’t have to be fists-of-fury Chris Brown to pick up a Rihanna and make her fall in deep, profound love with you, but don’t let the lesson of their relationship be lost on you. If you are a beta male — and odds are you are — you can superglue your relationship bond by instilling in your woman a calculated level of discomfort and insecurity. You won’t feel bad about this, because you will know that the discomfort you create is subconsciously DESIRED by your girl. Despite her outward appearance of frustration and timorous appeasement, you will know that inside, she is lit up like a vagina tree, with a squirting orgasm shooting out of the star on top.

In addition to everything else that is horribly wrong with this quote, let me just say that “lit up like a vagina tree” is not a phrase that I hope works its way into the vernacular.

So far, so good.

An innately unsexy lady athlete somehow cons a dude into kissing her.

So over on Chateau Heartiste, the Dude Who Used to Call Himself Roissy seems personally affronted that the female athletes in the Olympics, by and large, didn’t live up to his wet dreams of Perfect Womanhood. In one post, he hails a Turkish newspaper columnist (yes, the same one we talked about here) who complained about the allegedly unwomanly bosoms of female Olympians, and offers his own less-than-complimentary assessment of their looks:

Who with the eyes to see hasn’t noticed the narrow hips, the grotesque six-pack abs (never a good look on women), the chest “stubs”, the linebacker shoulders, and the manjaws of an inordinate number of the female Olympians?  

So why does it matter that Roissy/Heartiste couldn’t get a boner watching the Olympics? Apparently because these women are violating the PRIME DIRECTIVE, which forbids representatives of the United Federation of Planets from “intervene[ing] in matters which are essentially the domestic jurisdiction of any planetary social system.”

Sorry, that’s the PRIME DIRECTIVE from Star Trek. These gals are violating what Roissy/Heartiste thinks are mother nature’s PRIME DIRECTIVES (plural) for women, which are to look pretty and make babies. No, really. You see, women aren’t actually supposed to be, or look, athletic. It’s SCIENCE.

[W]omen must conform more to the male physique ideal in order to compete successfully in sports, and particularly elite sports, because women’s natural bodies are not evolutionarily designed to run, throw, fight or lift optimally like men’s bodies are designed to do.

Yeah, there’s no evolutionary advantage in being athletic, if you’re a gal. Evidently female hunter gatherers during humankind’s “environment of evolutionary adaptedness” didn’t ever run or throw or carry or fight anything or anyone, spending most of their time hanging out in cave clubs and texting their friends on their Smart Rocks.

Women’s bodies are — and I know this will get under the skin of the right sort of losers — shaped by the relentless laws of nature to fulfill TWO PRIME DIRECTIVES.

Visually please men.

And bear children.

Everything else women do is commentary.

Apparently Roissy/Heartiste has become an amateur Torah scholar. (And not a very good one, at that.)

You might be wondering: if Roissy/Heartiste really believes in all the evolutionary psych crap he constantly spouts, why on earth would he care that some women aren’t fulfilling their evolutionary duty to give him boners? Won’t they just get bred out of existence? What does it matter to him?

Well, evidently Roissy/Heartiste was feeling so defensive about people asking this very question that he wrote a whole other post explaining, sort of, why he cares. Sorry, why he totally doesn’t care.

The issue being raised was never about how much it personally mattered to me, or affected my own life. That’s the problem with you unthinking liberals — you always want to reframe an argument you find distasteful, or you find yourself on the losing end of, into a personal matter, a position from which it’s easier for you to morally strut and preen and preach fire and brimstone from your tawdry little masturbatoriums.

Yeah, you strutting masturbatoriumizing liberals! How dare you ask him why he spends so much of his life complaining about the bodies of women who don’t give him boners?

He continues:

The morality, or lack thereof, of manned-up women competing in the Olympics is not the point of the Olympic female athlete post. No one’s rights are abridged if some manly swole she-beast hoists 400 lbs above her head, nor is any moral law du jour violated. The point here is to remind the losers and equalists and assorted anti-realists that there is nothing inherently empowering about female sports participation unless one defines empowerment as “becoming more man-like”. It is also to address, honestly and truthfully, the obvious fact that a lot of female athletes are just quasi-men, in appearance, musculature and temperament.

Boy, there’s a brave and original notion.

Therefore, the encouragement of women by the media industrial complex into elite sports mostly rests on a foundation of denying women their feminine essence.

Huh. In his first post on the subject, Roissy/Heartiste complained about the “narrow hips” and “manjaws” of female Olympians. Did the evil “media industrial complex” somehow lure women into developing narrower hips and less-rounded jaws? Is Roissy/Heartiste some kind of Evo Psych Lamarckian?

A nation that wasn’t fucked in the head with an overload of kumbaya horseshit would not shy away from this bald truth of the reality of sex differences, and would realign its cultural incentives so that a proper balance was restored, reflecting innate biological reality, until sports programs and funding return to what they once were: mostly geared toward men.

If “innate biological reality” demands that women remain unathletic (and thus pleasing to Roissy/Heartiste’s eyes and penis), why are there any female athletes in the first place? If athletic women are by definition going against nature, why bother talking about culture at all, much less the urgent need to “realign cultural incentives?”

Evo Psych types like Roissy/Heartiste like to pretend that it’s biology, not culture, that sets up the allegedly innate differences between men and women. But somehow culture matters again when people stubbornly refuse to conform to their supposedly natural roles.

At the very least, the feminist propagandizing of female sports empowerment has to end, and hand-wringing over “equal representation” needs to become a shameful relic from this ugly, god-willing bygone era.

Huh. So I’m beginning to get the impression that you do care about all this, after all.

In the comments, some dude calling himself Maximin manages to be even more pompous than Roissy/Heartiste himself, declaring that

feminism … aspires, in the name of equality, to make women in to men, but revealing, at the same time, the inherent hatred of women that is feminism. This is not equality—rather this is bigotry against women. By forcing women to act like men—to look like men, to have the musculature of men, to date like men, to have sex like men, to work like men, what they are saying is: the male body and the creations of the male body are superior to the female body and the creations of the female body. Therefore, change the female body into the male body and hence allow the female body to then create male works (and from what we have seen, these masculine women can only, at best, land in mediocrity).

And of course, it’s ugly women who are to blame for it all:

It comes from a hatred of the female—most likely from highly masculine women who are naturally more intelligent and competitive than highly feminine women. They cannot garner the attraction of men because they are ugly, so they scorch of the earth of femininity, and suddenly the scales are tipped in their favor. Beware a masculine woman scorned: she will burn down the world and rebuild it in her favor.

Fellas, be careful! If you don’t watch out, Holley Mangold will sneak into your bedroom at night and LIFT YOU OVER HER HEAD!

Manosphere misogynists like to tell themselves fairy tales about women. Their favorite such tale, repeated endlessly, is one called “The Cock Carousel” – sometimes referred to in expanded form as the “Alpha Asshole Cock Carousel” or the “Bad Boy Cock Carousel.” (Hence that Rooster-riding gal you see in this blog’s header about half the time.)

Despite the different names, the story is always, monotonously, the same: In their late teens and twenties, when they’re at the height of their sexual appeal, women (or at least the overwhelming majority of them) have sex in rapid succession with an assortment of charismatic but unreliable alpha males and “bad boys” who make their vaginas (or just ‘ginas) tingle. Then, sometime in their mid-to-late twenties, these women “hit the wall,” with their so-called sexual market value (or SMV) dropping faster than Facebook’s stock price. As Roissy/Heartiste puts it, in his typically overheated prose:

So sad, so tragic, the inevitable slide into sexual worthlessness that accompanies women, the withering tick tock of the cosmic clock stripping their beauty in flayed bits of soulletting mignons like psychological ling chi. A sadistic thief in the night etching, billowing, draping and sagging a new affront to her most preciously guarded asset.

While many women try to pretend they’ve still “got it,” even at the ripe old age of thirty, they inevitably have to either get off or get thrown off the “cock carousel.” At this point the more savvy women glom onto some convenient “beta male” who, while somewhat lacking in sexual appeal, will at least be a good husband and provider for them – and in many cases the children they’ve had with alpha male seed. Those women who don’t accept the new reality are destined to end up alone and childless, surrounded by cats.

To borrow the phrase South Park used in its episodes about Scientology and Mormonism, this is what manosphere men actually believe. Not only that, but they claim that this fairy tale is based on real science.

So who are these mysterious alpha males that get the women so excited? As one guide to pickup artist (PUA) lingo puts it:

In animal hierarchies, the Alpha Male is the most dominant, and typically the physically strongest member of the group. For example, in wolf packs, the “alpha wolf” is the strongest member of the pack, and is the leader of the group. This position of leadership is often achieved by killing or defeating the previous Alpha Male in combat. Alpha wolves have first access to food as well as mating privileges with the females of the pack.

Social status among human social groups is less rigidly defined than in the animal kingdom, but there are some recognizable parallels. Although people don’t often engage in physical violence to achieve dominance, there are still recognizable leaders in different fields who have wide access to material resources and women.

Because the qualities of the Alpha Male (such as social dominance and leadership) are attractive to women, many PUAs have adopted these ideals as models of emulation. In fact, the term “alpha” has come be shorthand for the qualities of an attractive man, and it is a common refrain among PUAs to be “more alpha” or to “out alpha” competitors.

There’s a certain logic to all this. But unfortunately for the PUAs and other manospherians the notion of the Alpha male is based on bad science. The notion of Alpha dominance, as the definition above notes, came originally from studies of wolf packs. Even if we assume that wolf behavior is somehow a good model upon which to base our understanding of human romance  – as manosphere men and evolutionary psychologists tend to do – the science behind the Alpha male wolf has now come completely undone, with many of those who promulgated the theory in the first place decades ago now explicitly repudiating it.

The problem, you see, is that the studies underlying the notion of the alpha male wolf, who aggressively asserts his dominance over beta males in order to rule the pack, were all based on observations of wolves in captivity. In the real world, wolf packs don’t work that way at all. Most wolf packs are basically wolf families, with a breeding pair and their pups. When male pups reach adulthood, they don’t fight their fathers for dominance — they go out and start their own families.

As noted wolf behavior expert L. David Mech, one of those who helped to establish and popularize the notion of the alpha wolf in the first place, explains on his website:

The concept of the alpha wolf is well ingrained in the popular wolf literature at least partly because of my book “The Wolf: Ecology and Behavior of an Endangered Species,” written in 1968, published in 1970, republished in paperback in 1981, and currently still in print, despite my numerous pleas to the publisher to stop publishing it. Although most of the book’s info is still accurate, much is outdated. We have learned more about wolves in the last 40 years then in all of previous history.

One of the outdated pieces of information is the concept of the alpha wolf. “Alpha” implies competing with others and becoming top dog by winning a contest or battle. However, most wolves who lead packs achieved their position simply by mating and producing pups, which then became their pack. In other words they are merely breeders, or parents, and that’s all we call them today, the “breeding male,” “breeding female,” or “male parent,” “female parent,” or the “adult male” or “adult female.” In the rare packs that include more than one breeding animal, the “dominant breeder” can be called that, and any breeding daughter can be called a “subordinate breeder.”

So the dominant male wolves – those whom manosphere dudes would still call the alphas – achieve this position not by being sexy badasses but simply by siring and taking responsibility for pups. To use the terminology in the manner of manosphere dudes, alphas become alphas by acting like betas. That’s right: alphas are betas. (For more of the details, see this paper by Mech; it’s in pdf form.)

Also, they’re wolves and not humans, but that’s a whole other kettle of anthropomorphized fish.

Who’s the real Alpha Dog?

Over on Chateau Heartiste, the adult man who actually goes by the name “Heartiste” is getting into the spirit of the election season by going all Ann Coulter on us with a post on how terrible it is that single women can vote – mainly because they vote for Democrats, which Hearty attributes to the lack of real men in their lives.

When you don’t have an alpha male in your personal life to admire and rely on for support (partly because you make your own money and don’t feel a pressing need to have a middle class compliment&cuddle herb around for security), you turn to the next facsimile — the substitute alpha male who promises limitless resources for you and your future sprogling. This substitute alpha male is The State, and its shaman emissary is Obama. …

Single women are bankrupting this country. And they don’t give a shit, as long as they get theirs, which includes tingles.

By “tingles” he’s referring to what the dudes of the manosphere like for some reason  to call “gina tingles,” with “gina” short for “vagina.” After a brief excursion into racism – he’s apparently afraid the country will be overrun with swarthy Democratic-voting immigrant hordes – Hearty gives us this report from the front lines. Sorry, the front swimming pool:

I swim among single women — mostly white, mostly educated and/or intelligent, in their 20s and 30s — and I can assure you they have a rock hard clit boner for Obama and leftie policies in general. Romney may as well be the anti-Christ when he’s not some buffoon at whom they happily lob insipid snark bombs. …

This is the reality we live in. It’s status whoring and self-righteous hypocritical white girl preening all the way down. The people have suckled on the Big Daddy Government teat for too long, and they ain’t giving it up.

The Big Daddy teat?

Single women are the worst teat sucklers because it is in the nature of women, before they have had their estrogenic rocket fuel burned out of them by marriage and children, to extract as many resources from the tribe’s public pot as they can manage, and to dispense as much of the public till to sympathetic groups in a showy self-annihilation of pathological altruism.

Hearty’s metaphors here have grown so baroque here that I’m having a little trouble visualizing what he thinks is going on. Can someone draw me a picture of white girls suckling on Big Daddy’s teat while using rocket fuel to extract resources from a large pot?

And men, the majority of them generally being weak-willed betas all too happy to dance to young babes’ tunes, have neither the balls nor the heart to call them out for their vapid politics. Many white men are so manboobed they actually yearn for their dispossession, both demographically and politically, like some cuckold fetishist lubing his palm with his salty tears and pulling forlornly at his purple pud in the corner as he gets psychologically ass-rammed by his gleeful tormentors.

Classy, dude, but thanks for including me in your weird cuckold/rape fantasy.

As the day must yield to night, so did suffrage yield to anarcho-tyranny.

Meanwhile, every rose has its thorn, just like every night has its dawn.

Hearty wraps up his piece with a thoroughly muddled conclusion. On the one hand, he takes hope in the fact that by general consensus Romney “out-alpha’ed Obama in the debate.” And chicks love that, right?

It’ll be interesting to see if the polls budge among women in favor of Romney because he looked like a boss disciplining a lackadaisical employee during the debate. Obama’s head nodding while Romney dressed him down was a huge beta tell, and women pick up on that subtle body language stuff. If they are sufficiently turned off, this election could be up for grabs.

Never mind that immediately before this, Hearty declared that

Obama still holds the trump card of being the guy who represents the dream of every girl to have a harem of eunuch beta male orbiters showering her with emotional support and money while demanding nothing in return.

I’m a bit confused. I thought that in Heartisteland women only tingled for alphas. And at the start of this post Obama was the ultimate Alpha who was giving women “tingles” and “rock-hard clit boners” – or was it just the Big Daddy state that was the Alpha (while simultaneously serving as a wet nurse for the nation’s women and other ne’er-do-wells). Now Obama holds the trump card because he a Beta? Or maybe doesn’t, also because he’s a Beta?

I’ve given up trying to understand these guys. The only constant in their arguments are that women (and men who don’t hate women) are awful; everything else flows from this.

I’m pretty sure this isn’t how birth control actually works.

You might think that Pickup Artists, dudes obsessed with sexing up the young fertile lasses, would be huge fans of contraceptives – which, after all, are what makes their particular lifestyle possible. But some prominent PUAs are about as enthusiastic about contraception as a Pope.

In the case of the charming fellow who calls himself Heartiste, I mean this literally. In a recent posting, he quotes approvingly from Pope Paul VI’s 1968 Humanae Vitae dissing contraceptives for allegedly demeaning the women that use them. Paul suggested that contraception may cause men to

lose respect for the woman and, no longer caring for her physical and psychological equilibrium, may come to the point of considering her as a mere instrument of selfish enjoyment, and no longer as his respected and beloved companion.

I’m no Pope, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way.

Heartiste, for his part, embraces and extends this line of reasoning, adding in some of that Alpha-Beta-Schmeta nonsense that manosphereians seem to regard as cutting edge science.

[A]s cheap contraceptives silently and subtly move men toward devaluing women, so too does the technology move women toward devaluing beta males, those bitter losers in the sexual market (note: I did not say marriage market or child market) for whom contraceptives, coupled with female economic self-sufficiency, have rendered them practically superfluous as primetime sexual partners.

The mass-produced condom and the Pill have freed men from feeling obligation for women as much as they have freed women to regularly and blithely pursue what was historically risky sex with caddish alpha males on the make.

The contraceptive is, in practice, a female hypergamy facilitator.

Yep, that’s right: contraceptives are the tickets to the mythical Alpha Asshole Cock Carousel.

But poor Heartiste has impaled himself on the horns of a dilemma. He’s got a good anti-woman rant going, but there’s just one problem with it: he’s devoted his life to becoming one of those Alpha Assholes that contraceptive-using women purportedly cannot resist riding.

It’s funny for me to write this, because contraceptives have, in fact, been very very good to me. I did a back of the envelope calculation and figured that my aggregate sex life would have been truncated by 90% if contraceptives were prohibitively expensive, unreliable and hard to get. A world in which women had to grapple with real, palpable fears of STDs, pregnancy and subsequent abandonment is, not to put too fine a point on it, a really shitty world for womanizers and serial monogamists and uncomplicated lovers of the art of seduction itself. I imagine I’d have to *gasp* start promising marriage or some such claptrap to any woman I wanted to bang, just to loosen her up enough to unhook her bra.

Spoken like a true asshole.

Oh, but don’t worry, Heartiste isn’t going to stop attacking sex-having women as one of the harbingers of “the cultural and technological juggernaut that hastens, if it is not the sole cause of, the death of Western civilization.”

Indeed, Heartiste almost seems to relish the ironies of his position, as it allows him to spew forth some of the silliest purple prose you’re ever going to find outside the pages of bad romance novels (or comments from our friend Steele):

Here I am, standing at the edge of the abyss, pointing into its bowels like a histrionic jester, leading the ignorant and the deluded to peer into the void and imploring them — no, more precisely taunting them — to heed my warning of their desolate future… and still I cavort insouciantly along its lip, secretly relieved that no one will seriously weigh my prophecies.

Well, at least he’s right about that “histrionic jester” bit.

Last I checked, Heartiste’s post had spawned 450 comments. I can’t bring myself to look through them to see what further horrors can be found there.

EDITED TO ADD: You should all be aware that our lovely Alpha Asshole Cock Carousel illustration is available in t-shirt form! As is the Mammoth! And a delightful Cupcake as well! And you’re in luck! Zazzle is having another one-day 40% off sale on T-shirts! Click here to go to the Man Boobz Zazzle store. Use the code 12DAILYDEAL8. Oh, and in a lovely irony, the profits go to Planned Parenthood!

There’s no good way to illustrate this post so here’s sleepy Maru in a box.

Lady feminists! I have some terrible, terrible news for you from pickup artiste Heartiste, the would-be God Emperor of Poon. Apparently he and his pals have been having sex with you all.

Heartiste lets us all in on this little secret in a post earlier this month titled “Lots Of Feminists Are Getting Banged Out By PUAs.” He explains that those dudes who “scavenge snatch” in upscale white neighborhoods in big American cities – what Heartiste in an attempt at humor likes to call Stuff White People Like Land (or SWPL-Land) – will by definition score with some of you feminist ladies.

This is because most girls in the big blue population sinks of SWPL-Land are feminists of one stripe or another. You can’t swing an Emperor Deluxe condom without hitting a feminist in the cooch if you live or operate within these zones of misandry.

Heartiste helpfully spells out for his readers some of the different kinds of feminists to be found in these misandry zones.

The first, the most extreme exponents of radical feminism are what one of his readers calls the “Jizzabel-type feminazi,” or what Heartiste himself calls “the femcunts.”

Yes, that’s right. Apparently the most radical of all feminist publications, the SCUM Manifesto for our internet era, is Jezebel.

Heartiste explains:

These are your Jizzebomb fanatics, the devotees of feminism as a life-affirming ideology. They are the smallest in number, but the loudest in bitchery and kookery. This is the kind of manjawed girl — typically a lawyer, academic, organic farmer or diversity consultant — who reads and comments daily at sites like Feministing and Slate/Salon/SuckMyClit with furrowed brow, regurgitating what she learns therein at parties and in the middle of dates, exposing a vile expectation that all the world should agree with where her retarded logic takes her.

Uh, I’m familiar with Feministing, and Slate and Salon, but I’m afraid I don’t have any idea about this mysterious “SuckMyClit” site he’s referring to. (There isn’t even a site up by that name, though enterprising publishers will be happy to learn that the domain name is for sale.)

Heartiste continues:

As long as you don’t embroil yourself in her occasional tantrums at invisible enemies, and keep the pick-up light and breezy while steering her in different conversational directions whenever you sniff the approach of another feminist tirade carried along by the id winds, you will get the bang. She is, underneath her femcuntery, still a woman, and as such (however much you may need reminding) she will respond viscerally to ancient cues of your mate worthiness, and her vagina will flower in spectacular opposition to the wilting of her mind.

Heartiste is an even worse writer of erotic fiction than E.L. James.

Oh, and here’s another little bit of shitthatneverhappened.txt. (TW for crude rape reference.)

You don’t want to stay with women like these beyond a few hate smashes, so for shits and giggles I suggest you regale her in the morning with your support of the Second Amendment and the ludicrousness of the equal pay myth. For bonus soul-shivving points, casually muse aloud, after you have sprayed her mug and she’s inserted her glazed face into your armpit nook, that 1 in 5 women who are being raped will orgasm during the act.

Yes, that’s right. Heartiste is publicly posting his fantasies about Jezebel-reading radical feminists rubbing semen (his own) into his armpits with their faces.

Next in Heartiste’s imaginary classification scheme come The Partisans.

These are the girls who occasionally read feminist blogs (usually when a fat femcunt friend passes along a link) and parrot the benumbing Cathedral crap they hear on TV and read in approved MSM papers. But these soapbox episodes are blessedly infrequent and pass unremarked, unless they manage to corral some dipshit manboob into acting as a sounding board for their cockamamy nonsense on white male privilege and socially constructed beauty standards (Hugs Shyster, Scrotumless Scalzi, I’m looking at you two distilled estrogen pools.)

Hey, a shoutout! Thanks, pal!

And finally, The Lemmings:

MOST women in the cities will have spent the better part of their sexually adventurous single girl years steeped in the platitudes of feminism, and they will know nothing else. Combined with women’s natural aversion to abstract thinking beyond immediate, selfish concerns, what you wind up with is a population of lickspittle lemmings who mindlessly nod in agreement every time a talking head exploiting this deficiency in the mental circuitry of half the voting public sonorously intones something about “equal pay for equal work”, or “war on women”. The Lemmings, by far the largest group of women you will likely encounter unless you live in South Dakota, include all types of girls, from club sluts to self-important HR robots to daddy’s princesses to deliriously frantic scenesters. Luckily for your sanity, these girls do not take feminism seriously … .

In the end, Heartiste tells his readers that “90% of your city’s women are feminist in name if not in execution.”

So they’re feminists, even though they’re not really feminists. Gotcha. With such an expansive definition, it’s no wonder Heartiste is convinced that a significant portion of the women he “bangs out” – whether in the real world or in his fevered imagination – are feminists of some sort.

He concludes:

Most hardcore feminists, whether or not they know it, are fucking men who either pretend to give a shit about their precious ideology, or don’t even bother with the pretense of pretending to give a shit about it. In fact, the majority of men, and an even bigger majority of players, are like me: they find feminism absurd on its face and will dismissively change the subject anytime the girls they are seeing make the mistake of veering into feminist bromide territory. Most girls are sensible and will know when their feminist retardation is turning off the men they like, and will quickly fall in line with the change of subject.

There are exceptions. A few supercharged feminists will eventually wind up with sycophantic manboobs for lovers, and a more perfect pairing I couldn’t imagine.

Aw. Another shoutout. It’s almost as if he has some sort of he-man heterosexual man crush on me.

A better way to retain your mate: Be a sharp-dressed man.

You may know Heartiste as a reactionary, misogynistic, proudly racist dispenser of manipulative, sometimes abusive dating advice to would-be “alpha males.”

Did you also know that he was an open advocate of domestic violence against women?

Well, I didn’t, until a friend pointed out a strange little exchange on his Twitter account the other day.

Last Tuesday morning, apropos of nothing in particular, Heartiste made the following pronouncement:

Depriving men of the means to make credible mate retention threats will assure that women need more retaining. #evolutionaryarmsrace—
  (@heartiste) June 18, 2013

When someone asked what sort of threats he meant, he elaborated:

@ChrisCaroll1 Violence. Abandonment. Shame. Ostracism. etc. RT: What are "credible mate retention threats"? That's a new one on me.—
  (@heartiste) June 18, 2013

The latter three items on the list (“Abandonment. Shame. Ostracism”) are standard techniques in Heartiste’s dating strategy, but the open advocacy of violence is, I think, new.

In addition to being repugnant, Heartiste’s argument here doesn’t even particularly make sense. Essentially, he seems to be saying that men need to be able to hit women to keep them in line so that they won’t have to … hit women to keep them in line.

Also, the phrase “mate retention strategy,” apparently popular with Evo Psych types, gives me the creeps. I’m pretty sure the best “mate retention strategy” is to be the sort of person your “mate” wants to be in a relationship with.

I did a quick search for the phrase, and found numerous references to two academic studies. One suggested that some women fake orgasms as a “mate retention strategy.” Another possibly more revealing one claimed that men of “low mate value” often insult their mates to lower their self-esteem so they won’t feel confident enough to leave. That seems more or less in line with what Heartiste’s general approach. And certainly, by any reasonable definition of the term, Heartiste and his followers are some pretty “low value” people, both as “mates” and as decent human beings generally.

I also found this reference to research by Evo Psych big daddy David Buss suggesting that violence — surprise! — isn’t actually a particularly effective “mate retention strategy.”

Also, beating up your mate is, you know, just generally a pretty shitty thing to do.

If Heartiste takes his tweets down, I’ve got screenshots.

Oops.

Mark Minter, a bitter, angry, divorced man in his late fifties, made a name for himself over the last year or so in the tiny world of the misogynist manosphere as that subculture’s most vociferous opponent of marriage.

In a series of little manifestos, deposited as comments on various manosphere blogs, Minter excoriated the institution he thought made a “slave” of men. “Get it through your head,” he wrote in one,

Men are from mars; women are FUCKING IDIOTS.

Never marry. … Duh. Game. Duh. Pump them, dump them, next them. Duh. THAT IS THE ONLY WAY TO WIN. Duh!!!!!

That was the old Mark Minter. Then, last week, word got out that Minty was getting married. To a single mother (oh no!) over the age of thirty (eek!) that he’s apparently never even met in person (well, actually that does sound a bit worrisome).

If this isn’t all some elaborate work of performance art, it may well be turn out to be the most entertaining drama I’ve seen since I started following the manosphere three years ago.

It was Minty’s future wife, a mysterious manosphere-friendly woman known only as Kate, who first broke the news, in a comment on Heartiste’s “game” blog, where she is something of a regular fixture. Heartiste posted about the strange engagement shortly afterwards, wondering if it had been his blog that had “brought these two lovebirds together into a promise of holy matrimony.”

Needless to say, some of Minty’s fans — now ex-fans — reacted as if he had just pooped in the punch bowl.

“Oh crap, the one man wh ostands agianst marraige……destroyed by the unmerciful claws of marraige,” wrote one commenter, evidently too overwhelmed by emotion to type properly. “Farewell Mark, you will be missed. The medusa kate has you now.”

“Speechless,” wrote another. “This is like having Jesus spit in your face while saying ‘FUCK YOU BROTHER!’”

Feeling a tad defensive, Minty rushed to defend himself, and his future wife. In a comment on Chateau Heartiste, he explained

I suppose I have to eat crow. So why the change of heart?

First, I would say I saw some photos that the rest of you have not.

He’s seen some photos? Am I right to think that the only possible interpretation of this is that the two haven’t actually met in person yet?

Second, she is Red Pill and has actually been in this community longer than I have. You cannot imagine what it is like to have conversations with a woman and say “Remember the CH essay on ….” and have a girl say “Yeah, He was right on with that one.”

And I think the odds of men finding someone that fits the first statement AND the second are pretty remote. I believe I nailed down one of the 2 or 3 that might exist in the world that have photos that can make a fellow sit up and pay attention, and then having the intellect and the preparation to keep that attention.

After some proud blabbing about Kate’s apparently quite traditional values, Minty brags about what an alpha dog he is for scoring her:

To me, this engagement is a validation of Game.

I practiced what I learned here. I am 58 year old man. None of you know what that truly entails until you get to that point in your life. Kate is an attractive 34 year old woman, with options galore if she chose to take them.

And in following what I learned here, following the suggestions, the psychology, the mandates, I have an attractive woman 24 years younger than me that is ready to commit to me.

Top that motherfuckers.

As for the medusa Kate, he defended her honor in another comment,

When this Facebook announcement thing happened and members of Kate’s family learned of it, my name got Googled and the writing I have done came to the attention of her family. And some of it was quite provocative and written by me to be intentionally provocative.

And her family came straight at her.

They set up something like an interdiction where she was confronted by not only her family, but also by a PhD in Psychology …

The family compelled her to attend this session with them and this counselor.

They could not believe that a rational woman would wish to marry a known sexist and misogynist.

So she went into that meeting alone, and she stood her ground, she defended our ideas of the Manosphere, she stood up for me, my right to write what I have written, and she won the day. …

She deserves your respect and she has earned it.

Not everyone in the manosphere is convinced that she — or Minty — deserve this respect any more.

In a post yesterday, PUA skeezball Roosh V denounced Minty as a “phony” and warned him that he would no longer be tolerated in Roosh’s corner of the manosphere:

He is like the conservative politician who espouses family values while diddling young boys on the side.

What? What kind of a world do you live in where a man who announces his plans to get married is in some ways equivalent to a child rapist?

He is the PUA who sells products on how to get laid but can’t even approach a single woman, someone who creates a false character to gain either money or—in this case—praise, at the expense of everyone’s trust.

For that reason, he has lost all respect from me. If he were to knock on my door, starving, begging for food and drink, I would only place the sustenance on my front step. He would not be permitted to enter my home so that the foul odor of hypocrisy that now trails him does not infect my place of sleep.

I hope his name will forever be synonymous with a man who doesn’t live by his own code. He deserves to be permanently exiled from the manosphere community. No more praise or compliments should be directed his way.

Contributing to Roosh’s disillusionment with Minty: his discovery of comments left here on Man Boobz by Minty’s ex-wife Suzanne Minter, which depict Minty as something less than the swashbuckling figure so many in the manosphere took him to be. With somethig less than fondness, she described him as

an absolutly insane person. … we have been divorced for ten years, dont you think it is time to get over it? …

[He] has 2 children, including a 19 yr old daugther. He has never paid a dollar of child support in his life, so all of the crap he spews is crap. He has not worked in 5 years because no one will hire him. Amazingly, he has been fired from EVERY job he ever had. He lives with his sister because without her support he would be homeless.

This is the man that people are calling “great” – he is a bitter ass.

In a comment on a site called FOKMCAST, which had posted something supportive of Minty,  Suzanne elaborated further:

Mark Minter is a fraud. … Mark is the biggest victim I have ever known. You say his children didn’t appreciate him? What the hell did he do for them? They were 7 and 3 when we finally divorced. He never saw them because he moved out of state and then emptied out is 401k after getting fired for the 6th time , to go to South America to have relationships with women he met on the Internet. (As a result of that brilliant financial decision he owes the IRS about 35k in back taxes and penalties and fees)

You people act like Mark is the greatest thing ever. He is a fraud and a liar. 99% of what he has written on the web is fabricated. Don’t you people have real lives that involve human interaction or do you only have the social abilities to exist in cyber space? I really would have thought that one or 2 of you might have been smart enough to do some fact checking before you took Mark as your messiah.

His engagement is a sham. Don’t you find it odd that he is marrying someone he has only seen pictures of? Well, I take that back, he did marry a columbian woman he met on the Internet which she shortly after had annulled. …

Moral of the story: mark is a liar and a fraud and they way you people idolize him his a sad testament to the modern Internet. I am a 5’7 135 lb blonde who earned 200k last year. I raised my children on my own and was single for almost 10 years before marrying someone 8 yrs younger than me. I am clearly the slob, pig, bitch, moron, bloodsucker here.
Have a great Sunday.

After quoting Suzanne Minter’s comments here, Roosh sadly added “I don’t know what to believe right now, but our manosphere “innocence” has been violated.” In a followup comment, as he evidently began to take in the implications of all this, he wrote:

Our enemies will use this against us for a long time. Minter has done serious damage. I accept blame since I helped spread his writing. My troll radar seemed to have failed me this time.

Dude, speaking as one of your enemies, we figured out that Mark Minter was full of shit the minute we first ran across him. Why do you think I was writing about him with such obvious relish months ago, back when he was still your hero? When Suzanne Minter came by to tell us that he was (to borrow your own description of him) “literally … a basement dweller troll,” we didn’t even blink, and I didn’t even bother to write a post about it. We already take for granted that the gurus and would be gurus of the manosphere are a bunch of liars and frauds. The fact that the manosphere is full of gullible idiots is not news to us.

In the comments to Roosh’s post, some commenters wondered if he was some sort of “feminist psyop,” sent to disrupt the manosphere.  “Until I see the photo of them in wedded matrimony,” wrote taterearl.

I’ll just take this as a pleasant fairy tale for us to bark about. For all we know they could be actually be double agents from Jezebel posing as people with the elaborate plot of trying to take down the place.

Well, it’s pretty clearly not that, but whatever it is, I suspect it will be providing us all with some lovely drama for some time to come. Will the now happy-couple make it to the altar before the old marriage-hating Minty rears his ugly head once more? Will Roosh and Heartiste start a feud? Who the hell knows, but it should be entertaining nonetheless.

Suzanne Minter summed up her reaction in an email to me,

This can not be real.  Seriously, Mark is penniless and I don’t see his sister forking over the dollars to buy him a car (he has not owned a working vehicle in 3 yrs) so he can go meet his fiancée in person.  I can’t see a woman with an IQ higher than 40 signing up for this, no matter how “red pill” or what ever the hell it is that she is.   …

It does blow my mind though that a man who lives like a troll in his sister’s spare bedroom for 4 years, hasn’t had any real human interaction in years, can’t get a job dispute the fact that he is truly gifted in a math/computer science sense, has managed to create a name and following for himself in the cyber world.

I should add that while I have confirmed Suzanne’s identity (and that she’s really the one who’s made all these postings of hers I’ve quoted), I don’t know how much of what she says about Mark is true. I also don’t know if the engagement is real, or even if Kate is a real person. Of course, I don’t know if Roosh has slept with a single HB8. In the manosphere, it’s fair to say, roughly 80% of everything is bullshit. I’m guessing the truth value of Suzanne’s comments is higher than that.

To keep up with the ongoing drama, I suggest starting here:

The original, ever-growing thread on the Roosh forums

The comments to Roosh’s “Mark Minter is a Phony” post.

The comments to Heartiste’s announcement post

For more on Minter see:

Roosh’s two earlier posts quoting him at length.

My posts on him, especially Mark Minter takes on Marriage, Mangina Manservants and America’s Matriarchal Infrastructure.

For Suzanne Minter’s take on the alleged engagement, see her comments to that post, starting here, as well as her comments on the FOKMCAST post, some very pointedly directed at the mysterious Kate.

For more on his future wife Kate, see this post of hers on the racist manosphere blog Eradica, where she urged white men to “alpha up” lest white women desert them for men of other races, thus destroying civilization. Yep, she’s a real prize.

But I’m a Nice Guy! Why won’t she date me?

Some people dream of going back in a time machine and strangling baby Hitler in his crib, thus preventing World War II, the Holocaust, any number of stupid memes. Our dear friend Heartiste  — the repellent right-wing pickup guru — dreams instead of delivering the incredibly wussy teenage Hitler his own Sixteen Commandments of Poon, thus saving young Adolph from the horrors of Betahood and perhaps also preventing World War II, etc.

Heartiste, who evidently gets his news from seven-year-old stories in the Daily Mail, has been reading about a not-so-new book that tells the story of teenage Hitler’s unrequited crush on a girl named Stefanie Isak. To hear the Daily Mail tell it, Hitler was quite the beta simp, watching from a distance in fury as  alpha male army officers charmed (and won over) the young lass. Heartiste is driven to comment:

Hitler the bitterboy beta. Instead of learning from his alpha male betters, he lashed out at them, much the same way our modern manboobs lash out at alpha male “douchebags” and “players”.

Thanks for the mention, douchebag!

Anyhoo, so young Hitler wrote the girl poems, stalked her, contemplated kidnapping her, and considered a murder-suicide backup plan in case the kidnapping didn’t work out — you know, all your typical nice guy stuff. What he never did was talk to her.

Poor Hitler! That’s what “One-itis” can do to you!

Heartiste wonders what Hitler might have been able to accomplish if he’s been able to read the Chateau Heartiste blog on his early-20th century iPad.

As you can see, even maniacal dictators with dreams of world conquest can fall into the same horrible beta traps as your typical weepy 21st century brooding teen boy with xVideos tabbed for convenience. If only Hitler had the compiled wisdom of CH, he would remember the maxim that you do not reward a woman with your love until after she has rewarded you with her sex.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure you don’t need Heartiste or any misogynist douchebag to tell you it’s not a great idea to fall in love with a girl that you not only haven’t had sex with but whom you haven’t even spoken to.

But Heartiste is caught up in his own fantasies at this point:

[A] part of me feels not just pity, but even tender admiration, for young Hitler’s romantic idealism, so pure of thought and intention. This was a Hitler, however misguided, who denied a cynical world its tribute in parcels of his uncorrupted soul. How might things have turned out differently had a strong male presence — an alpha male mentor — shown him the way to fulfill his burning desire? Or at least told him to stop acting like a tool.

If only Hitler had known how to neg!

One of the stranger aspects of Hitler’s unrequited love affair is that the target of his obsessions had a Jewish last name. She wasn’t in fact Jewish, but (according to the Daily Mail account) Hitler didn’t know that at the time. The Daily Mail suggests that this could mean that his later anti-Semitism wasn’t genuine, but was instead cooked up for political reasons. (Yeah, fat chance.)

Heartiste has a different theory.

[P]erhaps … Hitler became the man he did when, as a young man in the grip of hot unrequited love, his Jewish princess “rejected” him for the charming alpha males Hitler despised. What followed from that irreparable wound to his heart was an act of id vengeance that would set fire to the world. Was WWI then, the revenge of a beta male scorned?

I believe you mean WWII. Do try to get your World Wars straight.

Chateau Heartiste has written that game can save the West. Disbelievers scoff. But if this outpost of sanity had been around during Hitler’s flowering youth to enlighten him about the nature of the fairer sex, the West might very well have been saved. Saved not just from war and genocide, but from every evil — cultural Marxism, feminism, equalism, and now racial self-annihilationism — that has come after.

I guess it’s not surprising, really, that Heartiste is egotistical enough to think that his blog could have prevented World War I, er II.

What is surprising is that Heartiste would have wanted to get in the way of Hitler’s campaign of hate and war. Heartiste, after all, is an increasingly open far-right racist, who in a recent post blamed American “emasculization” on the “[l]ack of a cleansing war.” (Really, because it seems to me that we ARE at war, and just got out of another war, and I don’t know if you saw this in the news or anything, but we’ve got some military strikes on Syria penciled in for later this week.) And if you go through Heartiste’s comments section you will certainly find plenty of people who don’t think Hitler needed any excuse to hate Jews — because they’re just so inherently hateable!

Hitler and Heartiste, two terrible tastes that taste disgusting together.

EDIT: Oh, by the way, the Blue Pill subreddit is totally on this whole Hitler as pickup artist thing. Here’s the original discussion, a spinoff discussion in r/badhistory, and a picture of PUA Hitler trying a little kino escalation (from here).

Actual nice guy

Men’s Rightsers and Pickup Artists alike are obsessed with the dilemma of the so-called “Nice Guy” who can’t get laid. MRAs see his plight as a symptom of a gynocratic society in which fickle, asshole-loving women are the gatekeepers of sex; PUAs see it as a sign that beta males need to learn how to imitate the vaguely aloof swagger of the natural alpha male.

And both MRAs and PUAs completely miss the point.

To see just how badly they do, let’s take a look at a recent post from the sadly influential PUA shitbag Heartiste, who uses an alleged Facebook screencap of uncertain provenance as a springboard for a diatribe against the “desperate male,” that is, the “desperate, clingy ünterbeta male” who pursues a woman, often in a weirdly apologetic, even abject way, long after she’s made it clear she has no interest in him.

But Heartiste’s example, as you’ll quickly notice, isn’t exactly a textbook case of so-called “friendzoning.” (I’ve blotted out the dude’s face; Heartiste didn’t bother.)

Be warned: it’s a teensy bit long.

Yeah, so I’m thinking that the problem isn’t so much that the dude here is “too beta” as that he’s “a creepy stalker with no sense of boundaries and the obsessive persistence of a serial killer.” It’s not even clear why he’s developed this fixation on her. He says nothing to suggest he knows anything about her other than that she’s a “pretty lady,” and she doesn’t remember ever even meeting him.

Heartiste, naturally, takes him to task not for his creepery but for violating “just about every Poon Commandment” — that is, Heartiste’s set of “alpha male” rules for getting, well, “poon.”

He also notes the fellow’s repeated promises to not “take advantage” of her if she comes over to his place. Generally speaking, when someone casually promises not to rape you on your first date, and presents this as if it’s somehow a generous gesture on their part, it’s pretty much the opposite of reassuring, as it sort of suggests that they were at least considering it as a possibility.

But Heartiste sees it as an example of excessive chivalry:

Any man who thinks promising a woman that he “won’t take advantage of her” is the way to her heart is a power tool. Chivalry works in the abstract (specifically that abstract where unicorns are a possibility); in practice it’s an abysmal failure. A woman, if asked, will always say she wants a man “who respects her need to take it slow”, but in reality, where her words meet the unstoppable force of her tingles, a chivalrous gentleman’s pose is the equivalent of downselling: “Sure, this smartphone looks fast and functional, but it actually has parts made from Fisher Price toys. Try this cheapskate badboy clamshell over here instead.”

No, dude, the problem isn’t that this guy is being too “nice.” The problem is that he’s creeping out a random woman because he refuses to accept that she’s not interested in him.

The trouble with a lot of so-called “Nice Guys” isn’t that they don’t understand when a woman has rejected them — our creepy Romeo in the screenshots here was aware that he was probably “bothering” her only a few messages in. It’s that they refuse to accept these clear if implicit “no’s” as real” no’s.” Because, on some level, no matter how lonely and desperate and “ünterbeta” they may feel, they still feel entitled to sex with a “pretty lady.”

I rather doubt that many “Nice Guys” show up for work at companies that have interviewed them and hired someone else. The solution isn’t for these guys to learn “game”; it’s for them to learn to respect a “pretty lady’s” no as they would anyone else’s.

Dr. Thaddeus Pixel, Inventor of Science. (Detail of poster from Chateau Heartiste)

So the other day some of the fellas over on Chateau Heartiste — one of the internet’s top destinations for racist, misogynist pickup artist wannabes — ran across a little graphic celebrating some of the lesser-known “[w]omen in science that you should know … and probably don’t.”

Apparently offended by the reminder that, yes, women have actually had some influence over history, one of Heartiste’s readers decided to make a graphic similarly celebrating the men of science. But while the original graphic contained pictures of only 12 women, this new graphic featured a vast sea of male faces, as if to rub in just how male dominated the world of science has been, and still is.

Looking at the graphic, Heartiste also thought he spotted another demographic anomaly: a preponderance of white faces. “That’s one pale looking pastiche,” he wrote.

“The Men in Science poster. A Snowvalanche of Whiteness,” agreed one of his commenters,”Bwahahaha.”

Huh. That’s weird. because when I look at the poster I don’t see a lot of white. I mean, if you blow it up a little you can see that the spaces between the various squares are white, but the squares themselves are all sorts of colors. Red. Pink. Black. Brown. Blue. Green.

Are a significant portion of the Men of Science from Mars?

And there’s another odd thing about this not-so-pale pastiche: it’s full of repeating patterns. If you look closely, you’ll discover that this isn’t one vast sea of male faces. It’s a small pond, endlessly repeated.

Specifically, it’s this bit (from the upper left-hand corner) pasted over and over.

Also, when you look closely at these alleged “scientists” they turn out to be real blockheads. Yep, if you zoom in a little further you don’t find an assortment of tiny Einsteins and fig-sized Newtons. You get this:

All hail the founding pixels of science!

Heartiste, you may want to get your eyes checked for bigotry.

Thanks to dashapants for bringing this wondrous graphic and its repeating patterns to my attention.

Don’t let anyone see you checking your notes!

So our dear friend Heartiste, the white-supremacist woman-botherer, has assembled a little “Chateau Heartiste Crib Sheet of Game,” a compilation of some of his best pickup advice, boiled down to a few handy tips and clever one-liners that wannabe alpha males can use on the ladies during conversation in order to get their ginas tingling. (Sorry, that’s the way these guys talk.)

Looking at Heartiste’s list of “lines” I was struck by how generic and, well, frankly unoriginal most of them were, from standard issue negs like “nice shoes. Those are really popular now” and “is she always like this?” to old-school PUA cliches like “I don’t buy girls drinks but you can buy me one” and  “what else do you have going for you besides your looks?” both of which come straight from peacocking PUA pioneer Mystery, the guy with the fuzzy hat and the long-ago-cancelled VH1 show.

Indeed, a lot of Heartiste’s “lines” are as old and stale as he is:

Don’t get clingy

Miss me already?

Hey, hands off the merchandise

If i didn’t know any better i’d say you were trying to pick me up

So I thought I’d do Heartiste a little favor and write up some new lines for him and his fans that are both more original and a bit more honest. Next time you’re in “da club,” Heartiste, why don’t you try some of these out? Some of these I made up myself; some are taken, or adapted, from things you yourself wrote.

Hi, I spend most of my life on the internet trying to figure out how to manipulate drunk women half my age into bed.

People on the internet know me as Heartiste. No, not Fartiste. With an H. No, it’s not a joke. I thought it up myself.

I like to call black people “darkies.” No, not to their face. Anonymously, on the internet.

I’m an alluringly savvy man self-assuredly parrying the clit-hardened jousts of intrigued women.

Too much outbreeding decreases charitable kin-feeling and incentivizes a decadent ennui that severs the citizen’s sense of obligation to his nation and co-ethnics.

A gentlemanly selectiveness honed by years of experience and psychological nimbleness has proved adequate at filtering out women likely to lay like dead fish in my roiling sea of sperm.

If anyone can usurp the lawyercunt in cuntishness, it’s the Twittercunt.

The walls are closing in on the lords of lies and their feels army of emotabots.

Whether our ruling class knows it or they bumble along like drug addicts seeking the next pleasurable injection of power at any cost, their sex-swapping project will turn the West into matricentric, female forager Africa.

Every time we had sex over the following weeks, it ended with her tucking her knees under her chin naked on the bed to quietly cry into the wrapped bubble of her body.

The only bond that matters in a woman’s heart is the one you caulk in her cock vault.

The ruling elites despise whites, despise the concept of whiteness, and despise especially the idea that the territory and nation and culture from which they parasitically suck the lifeblood was created and sustained primarily by white men.

The id of the Like Me Generation is a furry suit wrapping a toddler.

Women should avoid trying to be funny altogether and stick to maximizing the return on their authentically valuable assets. That would be your tits, ass, face and pussy, in case you were wondering.

That last bit was pure Heartiste. (As were the previous ten.) Like the women of the world, I can’t hope to attain such pinnacles of wit.

Heartiste’s nonsense is a bit hard to swallow.

I‘m beginning to wonder if Chateau Heartiste isn’t so much a “Game” blog as it is an elaborate unannounced contest to see who can say the worst possible things about women in the most pretentiously incoherent prose. My evidence? Heartiste’s latest choice for “comment of the week” from an aspiring ladykiller (hopefully not literally) who calls himself burke.

Burke’s grand insight into the female of the species?

if you could grind a woman’s entire being to dust with your dick, like a mortar and pestle, that’s the oblivion she is searching for

Well, that’s pretty good, as far as pretentious douchebagginess goes, but it’s almost coherent. I mean, dicks are roughly the same basic shape as pestles, and it’s not hard to visualize one grinding away in a little stone bowl. Hell, there’s probably some porn video out there featuring just that.

But then Heartiste comes along and offers his own comment on the comment, and shows burke just how it’s done. And by “it” I mean “awful, pretentious, incoherent misogyny.”

Insight elevated to sheer poetry by the breezy lack of punctuation. Women secretly desire their oblivion at the insistence of an imperious man. As the vessel sex, they must be filled with the life force of another — a powerful man, or a child — to fully experience sublimation of their souls. Thus it is that surrender is encoded in the gristle of woman.

The gristle? It’s “encoded in the gristle?”

Gristle is cartilage. The tough stuff in meat that’s hard to chew. The stuff that sharks have instead of bone. Nothing is “encoded” in it. Animals don’t store all of their genetic material in their gristle.

The somewhat archaic phrase “in the gristle” means “not yet hardened into bone or strengthened into sinew” or, more broadly, “young, weak, and unformed.” It’s not a fancy synonym for “in the genes.”

Here’s the phrase in a sentence — that is, in a sentence written by someone who actually knew how to use language.

A people who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not yet hardened into the bone of manhood.

Well, come to think of it, that’s a sentence fragment, not a sentence. But at least Edmund Burke understood why that particular metaphoric phrase made sense in that context.

Heartiste, not even competently pretentious.

From Elliot Rodger’s Google+ Profile

Pickup artists, classy fellows that they are, are using Elliot Rodger’s killing rampage as a marketing ploy. In the comments to one of Rodger’s videos on YouTube, a company called Strategic Dating Coach offered their solution to prevent similar shootings in the future: send disturbed young men who can’t get dates to one of their coaching sessions!

While this response to Rodger’s mass killing is uniquely crass, the argument that “Game saves lives” is hardly new. To PUAs like Heartiste and Roosh Valizadeh it’s practically an article of faith.

In the wake of George Sodini’s murderous shooting spree in a Pennsylvania gym in 2009, Heartiste (then known as Roissy) wrote

If Sodini had learned game he would have been able to find another woman and gotten laid after his ex dumped him. He wouldn’t have spent the next 20 years steeped in bile and weighed down by his Sisyphian blue balls, dreaming of vengeance. Game could have saved the lives of the women Sodini killed.

The fact that Sodini had in fact imbibed in the alleged wisdom of pickup artistry, going so far as attending a pricey seminar from old-school pickup guru R. Don Steele, a self-proclaimed expert on dating young women, didn’t lead any in the pickup community to reconsider this position.

Nor has it this time. It is clear that Elliot Rodger was steeped in “red pill” thinking about women. And while he wasn’t himself a PUA, he was certainly aware of the basics of “Game.” Indeed, he subscribed to a number of PUA channels on YouTube and was a regular commenter on PUAhate, a sleazy forum devoted to criticizing “game,” not because it is manipulative and misogynistic but because it doesn’t work.

On the Roosh V forum earlier today, Roosh acknowledged that Rodger knew at least a little about “red pill” ideology – noting that Rodger referred to himself as an”alpha” – but still went ahead and argued that Game was the solution to massacres like this:

He is self-delusional and massively entitled, but exposing him to game may have saved lives.

In a followup comment, Roosh expressed his concerns for the real victims of this tragedy – Pickup artists:

I’m trying to think of ways our enemies will come after us because of this, but if anything, we’re the solution to this sort of murder rampage. This is the society that progressives wanted, where women are fully able to choose the top 10% of alpha males while shaming masculinity, leaving beta males with modest resources in the dust. Of course they will simply push a ban on guns, but this wholly neglects the cause. Seven people died because this guy couldn’t get laid … .

Other commenters were quick to agree. According to someone known as Moma,

Roosh has a very valid point. This will continue to replay over and over again. As human beings, our wiring is very basic yet primal. …

When have you last heard of a porn star shooting up a place? How many have emptied their balls in a hot lizard and then felt the urge to go and smoke 50 strangers?

According to Samseau, the problem wasn’t that Rodger hadn’t heard the Game Gospel; the problem was that he had rejected his salvation:

He knew about Game. If he had an account on PUAHATE then he knew about game. He was just a denialist. There was no helping this dude.

Roosh seconded this bit of wisdom, seeing it as clear evidence that “game denialism kills.”

Michelin, for his part, hoped that PUAs would be able to use the massacre as a publicity bonanza and a great “told you so” to all the haters.

One should write a mainstream article about this case. The argument that game could have saved lives can be an eye-opener and a smash in the face to haters of game.

Tuthmosis, the man best known for a Return of Kings post on the “5 Reasons to Date a Girl With An Eating Disorder,” reported his joy that PUAhate was getting bad press:

Seeing your enemies fall is a delicious treat you only get to taste a few times in your life. I’m savoring this delicacy with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. It’s a shame real people had to lose their lives, but I can’t help but think this will discredit a horrible website, PUAHate–and a way of thinking–that could have harmed even more men and innocent people. Beta losers will never go away, but this will wake up a few men and, more importantly, scare others.

Zelcorpion blamed “girls” and MGTOWers for giving Rodgers bad dating advice:

I bet a few girls told him that he only needs to be himself, be nice, be a gentleman, have a nice car, looks etc. – only to realize that it mattered shit. Instead of learning from the PUA-community he chose to listen to PUAhaters and some of the anti-female comments of the MGTOWs who themselves are often refusing to accept Game or even basic concepts like Alpha/Beta. I think that problem will become way worse, since hypergamy and promiscuity will only increase and most men will be left in the sexual wasteland.

But it took a relative newcomer to the forum by the handle of thedavidgt to raise the obvious logical objection to the Game-for-everybody solution to incel rage:

If every sexless beta in the world took it upon himself to learn game, approach girls, lift, dress well etc, would it not simply feed women’s egos and entitlement? So instead of occasionally getting awkwardly hit on by skinny fat, poor-dressed chumps, the average 7 would then be approached several times a day by extremely high value men. We’ll have a society of men working to improve themselves for women who will get lazier and lazier while at the same time demanding more and more.

In fact, the “Game saves lives” mantra is dead wrong, but not for this reason. First of all, there is no clear evidence that “game,” per se, works, except insofar as it encourages men to pursue large numbers of women and numb them to the pain of rejection. It’s possible that a few of the conversational ploys invented by various PUAs may work better than having no conversational ploys at all. But there are no magic cheat codes to “getting with women.”

There is one more disturbing way in which “game” may increase “success” with women for unscrupulous men: many of the standard techniques of “game”– invading a woman’s personal space, touching her repeatedly, trying to “isolate” her from her friends – may serve as “tests” to find women who are less likely to resist violations of their boundaries. In this way, “game” may serve as a quite effective enabler of date rape. Indeed Roosh himself has admitted to raping a date too drunk to consent.

So how much of a solution is training a guy who is already filled with a toxic mixture of entitlement and self-loathing (yes, these strange bedfellows do often go together) in some techniques that might help him to tamp down his insecurities enough to manipulate some willing or not-so-willing women into bed?

You might have simply turned a mass killer into a serial rapist, or possibly a serial killer. Ted Bundy was quite the charmer. Somehow this didn’t make him a decent human being.

Even if “game” were the beneficient form of “self-improvement” that some of its proponents like to claim it is, teaching Rodger how to be a better dater would not make him a better person. Would having a girlfriend solve all his problems? Hardly. Relationships require patience and compromise and mutual respect, and Rodger seems to have had none of these qualities. Instead of directing his narcissistic rage at “girls” at large, he would likely have ended up abusing a string of girlfriends.

The problem wasn’t Rodger’s lack of “Game.” It was his lack of humanity.

Alpha cat demonstrating higher value.

Love is in the air at the Chateau Heartiste, the online home of the racist, woman-hating pickup artiste with an “he” at the start of his made up name. In a recent post, Heartiste responds to a reader with the plaintive question: Can sluts fall in love?

Heartiste takes the opportunity to drop some (pseudo)science on the questioner. By which I mean he plucks this nugget of not-quite-scientific nonsense from his posterior:

Absolutely. But they can also fall out of love. And they do both more easily than non-sluts.

Sluts are a strange amalgam of genetic, environmental, and “gray area” influences. Hormones are a good example of a gray area somewhere between the environment and genes which shapes character. While I’ve no hard evidence, I’d bet that sluts release less oxytocin than normal women do during lovemaking, which means the hard slut is less likely to emotionally bond when she’s spermally bonded.

Ah love, sweet ineffable love!

It’s not quite clear how Heartiste became an expert on love, since he seems to thoroughly hate the women he spends so much of his life obsessing about.

Elsewhere in the same “reader mailbag” post, for example, he urges another question-writer to gaslight a former girlfriend who is still showing interest in him in order to score some easy sex. I’ve bolded some of the more repugnant bits for those who’d rather skim than read Mr. H.

She wants the lines of communication open, because she still has hope you’ll give her what she needs. Reply, but only a fraction of the time she texts. Initially, keep it friendly and frivolous, but don’t allow yourself to get boxed into a “friends forever?” interrogation. If she starts down that road, first, know she doesn’t really mean it, and second, amputate that rotten limb of conversation promptly. “You’re so funny” is a reply that will light a fire under her hamster’s ass. Anytime she sends you one of those “just thinking about you” texts, reply “aw that’s sweet.” If she texts, “just got our hair done”, reply, “thanks! i needed to know this.”

The idea is that you are reinforcing your relative higher value by repeatedly and (some would say) sadistically mocking her eagerness to keep you in her life.

Allow for a few weeks of this empty banter, then maneuver her into your fornication zone with a disarming suggestion: “If you need to talk, you can swing by tomorrow (tonight’s no good)”. Through the expert deployment of ambiguous promises, you want her to believe you are warming to the idea of a committed, conventional long-term relationship. The goal is increasing perceptions of your “commitment attainability”, and that will require some feints to the beta side. Convinced of your good intentions, you can extract sexual goodies in this manner for another six months or so, before the process begins anew.

What a charmer!

Heartiste is fond of spinning out these sorts of sadistic fantasies, and his fans lap them up. It’s not clear if any of them have spoken to an actual human woman in years.

Captain America and the guy who’ll be taking over his job

So it turns out that Red Pill Redditors aren’t the only ones in a tizzy about Marvel comics’ plan to replace Thor (the superhero, not the actual Norse god, all praise him) with a woman. All over the manosphere, jimmies are rustling at the news.

The proudly racist, woman-hating pickup artist guru known as Heartiste is not only outraged by the “gelding” of Thor but also, and even more vehemently, by Marvel’s decision to make Captain America black, which he bizarrely describes as a kind of racial cuckolding:

Liberals are gloating over the recent editorial choices to geld Thor and race cuck Captain America. The former will become Whor, the female Thor, and the latter will become Captain Gibsmedat, the numinous negro who saves the right kinds of white people from the wrong kinds of white people.

“Gibsmedat” – I had to look it up – is a term that ridiculous racists like to use to describe welfare checks and other “goods, services, or material … given predominately to minorities, in exchange for their tacit agreement to reciprocate by not burning down America’s cities.” It’s short, you see, for “gibs me dat.”

Hilarious, huh? The term seems to be especially popular on Chimpmania.com, a site so ludicrously racist it makes Stormfront look tame.

Heartiste continues, lashing out at a “fat white liberal quasi-male named Devin Faraci” for publicly supporting Marvel’s decision to (at least temporarily) give the Captain America costume to The Falcon, another public-spirited superhero who happens to be black:

The fat white liberal face is archetypal. These race traitors all have a “look”, don’t they? Genetics, perhaps, or just a lifetime spent wiping orange Cheetostaches off their porcine mugs. Look at that faggot. He could double as an old lesbian halfway through her hormonal replacement therapy. If ever a face looked as if it was born to have a fist buried in it, Faraci has it.

Homoophia, racism, misogyny, fat-shaming, then back to homophobia before ending with a fantasy of violence. Charming, huh?

Faraci, for his part, has taken that last bit about facepunching  in stride, adopting it as his Twitter bio.

Oh, but Heartiste isn’t done yet: he then goes on to accuse Faraci – on the basis of precisely no evidence – of hypocritically living in a neighborhood devoid of “the minorities he jerks off to.”

The anti-white liberal white male is the most loathsome of creatures. More despicable than the minorities he jerks off to, because he fulminates a credo at 180 degree odds with his chosen lifestyle for status whoring feels. Hypocritical, smug, and you just know the first to run from a fight, gathering his skirt up and shrieking like a little girl.

I wonder about the demographics of this pigman’s neighborhood? Anyone care to investigate? I might put up a post in future called “The Leftoid List”, with the names of infamous anti-white leftoid equalist turds juxtaposed with the race demographics of their immediate neighborhoods. Should be illuminating.

That would be illuminating. Not about the “Leftoids” in question, but about the fellow who calls himself Heartiste.

The comments to Heartiste’s article are, of course, appalling, filled with rants about “homos and … leftards” and “social justice fags.” They hit all the “alt right” talking points, from homophobia to racism.

They even manage to evoke the far right’s all-time favorite villain: The Jew. One commenter announces that he

did some half-hearted googling about “Faraci” to see whether his mother had been a jewess or maybe whether he had changed his jew birthname to a more WOP-sounding name when he joined the Film Actors Guild … .

And then there’s this exchange:

(I’m pretty sure that is not the actual Hillary Clinton commenting.)

Meanwhile, another commenter claims that this “anti-White Kulturkampf [is] part of the greatest gencoide ever perpetrated.”

That’s right: Heartiste’s neo-Nazi fanboys think there’s a Nazi-style genocide being perpetuated against them.

Not that they’re particularly shy about advocating violence themselves. One long-time commenter writes:

Meanwhile, another commenter posts the address and telephone number of a guy named Farci living in California; another gently points outit’s up to someone who calls himself Ted Cunterblast to point out that he’s gotten the guy’s name wrong. Yes, that’s right: among Heartiste’s followers, it’s Ted Cunterblast who serves as the closest thing to a voice of reason.

But it’s not just Heartiste and his horde who are angry about white male superheros becoming something other than white or male.

Over on the also-ran Men’s Rights hub The Spearhead, W.F. Price takes a few minutes out from tending to the new baby in the household to bash out some ill-formed thoughts on what he calls “Trans Thor.”

I’m not sure whether this is an attempt to grab some publicity or a true appeal to feminists/transsexuals, but it’s a risky move in the long-term. While adults might tolerate the switch as an amusing diversion, comics are fundamentally children’s literature. …

So I wonder whether this new storyline is intended for an adult audience, and if so, whether it’s a signal that Marvel either doesn’t care about the base market for comics, or has already been surpassed by other companies that appeal better to boys and has decided to give up. …

And if Marvel thinks it can make up for the loss of interest in boys by picking up girls, it’s time to think again. Normal girls (as opposed to future feminists) far prefer feminine characters doing ladylike things — not dominatrix types holding giant hammers. …

Finally, adult women who like Thor will not be all that happy about this. Thor’s main appeal to women is as a Nordic hunk. It’s hard to overstate the appeal of manly warriors with flowing blond hair — especially to white women. Changing Thor into a woman is going to seriously anger some of these female fans; perhaps even more than the men.

The commenters on The Spearhead, as usual, manage to outdo Price in their bigotry and ridiculousness.

One commenter claims that

This is just another variation on “piss Christ.” Changing a European mythical figure into a woman is meant to humiliate.

Spearhead regular Uncle Elmer suggests that switching Thor’s gender is designed to appeal to actual feminist Nazis:

Himmler was fascinated by Teutonic myths and named his daughter after some Germanic heroine. He was also obsessed with pre-Christian witch cults and blamed the church for mass murder of thousands of witches during the middle ages.

So it fits that making Thor a woman is a move to placate Femi-Nazis.

Meanwhile, Nemo suggests that the gender-switchers are more like old-school Stalinists:

I don’t know, dude. Probably never? It’s not feminists who are suggesting that a punch in the face – or a beheading – is the proper response to a comic book character getting a gender or racial makeover.

Oriental Industry’s new “Dutch Wife” sex dolls: Cannot be distinguished from real women (if you’ve never seen a real woman).

Over on Chateau Heartiste, everyone’s favorite racist pickup artist gasbag Heartiste excitedly reports on the a giant leap forward in the ongoing “Sexbot Revolution” – a Japanese company has a new lifesize sex doll that looks slightly less creepy than the creepy sex dolls now on the market.

Heartiste quotes a Daily Mail article on the dramatic new development, because where else would you turn for important news in science and technology other than the Daily Mail?

Orient Industry say their new range of dolls, made from high quality silicon, are so realistic there is very little to distinguish them from a real girlfriend at first glance. …

[A]dverts in the media boast that anyone who buys one will never want a real girlfriend again.

Thoughts in my head respond that the potential girlfriends of the world will not be heartbroken at the news that dudes who can’t tell the difference between a giant rubber doll and a real woman will be leaving the dating market.

Heartiste, however, is delighted, writing:

The dolls come with a “skeleton”, which means they can be arranged into any position. Any position.

I’m pretty sure you can already do that with Stretch Armstrong, at a fraction of the price.

The coming sexbot revolution — and make no mistake, it is coming — will have profound ramifications on social order and the functioning of the sexual market. To this day, people underestimate the effect the Pill had on Western society; multiply that effect by a thousand and you’ll get an idea of the subversive havoc mass consumable sexbots will wreak.

Of course, these new sex dolls aren’t, strictly speaking, sexbots. They’re inert human-sized, human-shaped sex toys that probably weigh more than me.

If you want to experience true interactive setbottery, you need to go virtual.

The video below shows just how advanced modern kissing simulators have become. Indeed, one would be hard pressed to tell the difference between the software demonstrated in this video and actual real world kissing.

The video below that, meanwhile, offers a glimpse of what technology has achieved in the realm of breast simulation, though sadly the current technology only supports one breast at a time.  But make no mistake, the frighteningly wiggly and anatomically, er, improbable simulated boob revolution is coming! NSFW, obviously. And even weirder than the kissing video, if you can believe it.

Kissing:

Boobs:

The REAL thousand-cock stare

One of the odder folk beliefs of the pickup artist subculture is that women become worn down and used up and even a bit addled if they have sex with too many men. Men, by contrast, are said to be able to handle an equal number of female lovers with grace and aplomb.

In a recent post, our old friend Heartiste offers what he sees as decisive photographic evidence illustrating the different effects of promiscuity on men and women. As evidence of the “thousand cock stare,” he posts a picture of a young woman used to advertise some sort of singles event. Reflections from the photographer’s lights obscure her pupils, an offputting effect that gives her a slightly deranged look.

Heartiste, apparently not curious enough to wonder why the woman seems to have no pupils, sees this as clear photographic evidence of the tell-tale “thousand cock stare” that he believes women develop after exposure to more than the lifetime recommended allotment of penises.

To underscore his claim that promiscuous men are “more emotionally stable and contented” than their female counterparts, Heartiste offers this photographic evidence:

I think we can all see the problem here. Aside from the fact that a single photograph of someone smiling offers no real clue to that person’s relative stability or degree of happiness with their life – there are plenty of people who can put a good face on all sorts of troubles – this is not actually a picture of a promiscuous man.

It’s a picture of actor John Hamm playing the character of Don Draper, a promiscuous ad exec on Mad Men, in full costume and makeup and doing his best to act the part of a contented man.

As regular viewers of the show are well aware, Don Draper is not always so contented. Indeed, the character is a near-constant drinker with a troubled past who ruins two marriages through his compulsive womanizing.

Here are pictures of Don Draper in some less-happy moments.

Can we conclude therefore that excess promiscuity will turn smiling, confident men into puking emotional wrecks? Well, no, because, again, Draper is a CHARACTER, not a person. He’s NOT REAL.

But don’t try telling Heartiste that, because he seems to prefer to live in an imaginary world.

A man can sample the slits and furrows of outrageous fortune and survive the whirlwind of passion to mark a day in the future when he contentedly and without pathological second-guessing slips into a stabler, longer term commitment.

Women who have sampled a poo poo platter of penes accumulate emotional scars that never heal; promiscuous women have a mental storage closet filled with five minute montages of alpha male love, and these exciting, prurient memories rob the female id of something important. Call it purity or innocence or self-worth or ability to appreciate romantic idealism, the slut with ass chafing from riding the cock carousel is never the same as she was before she let herself get pummeled by dick.

Uh, just so you know, Heartiste, the Chinese menu item you evidently have in mind is actually called a Pu Pu Platter. A Poo Poo Platter is something, well, a bit different.

Then again, I suspect that most of those women who’ve “sampled” Heartiste’s alleged charms would have, in hindsight, rather spent the evening cleaning shit out of a toilet tank.

The Duluth Power and Control Wheel

Heartiste – real name James Wiedmann – is a proudly racist, woman-hating “pickup artist” guru known for advocating manipulative and often quite abusive “game” techniques to give men the upper hand in relationships and in the dating market. These run the gamut from emotional abuse – what he calls “dread game,” an elaborate portfolio of gaslighting ploys to keep women feeling insecure and off-balance – to straightforward physical abuse – slapping women “when necessary” to assert “alpha male” dominance.

Now he’s suggesting that wannabe lotharios borrow some tips on how to “game” women from the Duluth Power and Control Wheel, a widely used violence intervention tool designed to fight abuse, not provide a blueprint for it.

The Duluth Wheel highlights some of the most prevalent kinds of abusive behavior. Heartiste mines its descriptions of abuse for dating tips, claiming to find in it “a few curious nuggets of anti-feminist truth about relationships and how to keep them going.”

In his recent post, Heartiste goes through some of the descriptions of abusive behavior on the Duluth Wheel – and recasts them as handy tools for would-be “alpha males.”

“make her feel bad and guilty” — reframing.

“play mind games” — that’s one way to provoke a vaginal gusher.

“smash things” — occasional bursts of anger, when justified, are cues of sexy male dominance and they do turn on women. …

“threaten to leave her” — dread game. …

“take her money” — aka make a woman feel like she’s invested in you. she’ll try harder to make it work.

“be the one to define men’s and women’s roles” — chicks dig a leader. and they also dig benevolently sexist men! …

“treat her like a servant” — 50 Shades of Gray has sold millions of copies. To women.

His followers are, if anything, even more enthusiastic about adopting these abusive tactics to their dating life.

“[T]hanks for the road map,” writes dog king. “[A] handy chart for aspiring alphas,” notes Laguna Beach Fogey, also an occasional commenter on The Spearhead. “Much Thanks CH,” adds Ang Aamer. “It’s posts like these that turn the Femi-Matrix Vag monologues into decipherable ideas we can use.”

One commenter calling himself maldek offers a personal testimonial, claiming to have used the tactics on the Duluth Wheel to keep his wife of 20 years on her toes:

This is a female wishlist indeed.
Take it word by word.

Most of the listed items are things I do on a regular base. I mean it. And for more than 20 years it is working. Wife is looking top 5% in her age group, 3 kids, good life.

IT DOES WORK!

PS: That is 200% true for the darker parts of this list, you know the points those white knights would want to burn you on stake for. These are magic.

A commenter by the name of J Fisc seconds this endorsement.

This is an instruction manual for how to keep your woman happy. My marriage was doing pretty shitty until I said ‘Fuck it’ and started acting ‘abusive’. At least half the things on this list I do regularly and she eats its up.

One reader calling himself zaltyskaralius explains a favorite technique he (allegedly) uses to anger and excite the women – sorry, girls — in his life:

In the theme of brilliant game moves that bring the moist looks of indignation from girls, one of my old friends: The “Touchdown”:

When a girl says something (incredibly) stupid, interrupt and ask her if she knows what “touchdown” means.

Ignore her lack of football knowledge, shake your head and proceed to tell her that it has another meaning, as you put your hand on her shoulder with a grin on your face. Ask her if she has ever heard of Down’s syndrome. Tell her that it’s a tradition in your friend circle, that once someone says something not-so-very-smart, you proceed to do a “Touch-Down”. If she doesn’t get it, do another “touchdown”.

Congratulations, you just got a “pass this shit-test and collect tingles” card for the particular girl. From that moment on, anytime she says anything you dislike or throws a shit test at you, all you will have to do is simply place your hand on her shoulder and give her a knowing look, every so often muttering “touchdown” under your breath. No effort, no thinking, just a little touch.

Great move for AMOG [Alpha Male of the Group] friends as well. Great move for everyone in the know.

Luckily I think the chance that he’s actually used this “great move” on anyone outside of his own imagination is roughly zero.

Heartiste seems to think that the Duluth Wheel was conjured up by some Social Justice Warrior on Twitter. Only one of his commenters – at least only one that I noticed – admits to knowing where it really comes from.

“They made me memorize that graphic in a class i had to take because a broad said i hit her,” writes monster221.

Needless to say, he seems not to have learned anything from that class, noting that the experience convinced him

that i should act however i want and let them come and go. … Lifes great when its onyour terms, fuck anybody who tells you how to handle your shit.

Somehow I suspect that the “broad” who says he hit her was telling the truth.

My post about Heartiste and the sour slut grapes the other day inspired the following highly ironic series of Tweets from Mr. H and one of his fans.

I am overwhelmed by the intellectual firepower on display in these Tweets!

RedPillPhill has offered other highly erudite critiques of my writing in the past.

Hmm. This last one seems debatable, given that RedPillPhil is a Dark Enlightenment “race realist” who recently retweeted this lovely cartoon:

Apparently posting racist cartoons and calling me a womanly panty-sniffer is how Phil plans to win the war. What war? THE CULTURE WAR.

Is the Dark Enlightenment called the Dark Enlightenment because everyone involved in it has their head permanently up their own ass?