Tag Archives: Game

Banging Caucasus Girls

Caucasus girls can be strikingly beautiful. With jaw-dropping exotic looks and feminine character, they truly are a breed apart from most girls you find in the Post-First.

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But how does one go about bedding them?

Well here’s the problem. Their men are territorial and will not tolerate a member of an out-group dating one of their girls. Exceptions abound, but a talk with any serial daters within FSU countries that have Caucasus migrants will confirm that these exceptions simply prove the rule. You must always assume that the primary obstacle to dating a mountain girl is the mud man behind her that will literally try to break your ribs if you start making the moves on one of their women. Now, a conquering peoples always allows out-group mating for their own males, but enforces strict dating codes for its own females. This is nothing new, and it is happening now in Europe. White European women are being culturally-enriched in staggering numbers. But again, this is not mentioned in the media and even if it was, it is reasonable to assume that nothing would happen. Europeans, like all whites after all, exhibit pathological altruistic traits and out-group tolerance at levels that borders on the suicidal. One could argue that this is the result of out-breeding and the prohibition of cousin-marriages- a practice that continues in the dark world- leading to decreased sense of kinship among members of the European peoples. But that is the subject of another paper. Suffice it to say, you’re not going to get far with Muhammed or Shamil’s daughter unless you either bribe him with a goat, or do it on the sly.

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Be careful though. From my own experience, Caucasus girls have a very powerful form of a shit-test indeed: they threaten to tell their family that you have been seeing them. This spells a beat-down (or worse) for you, and a beat-down for her. This is a nuclear shit-test, probably inherited from generations of bride-abduction tradition in the Caucasus. Dial the Alpha up to 110% because you are going to have to brag about how you can personally curb-stop all 22 of her cousins at once and that you aint afraid of nuffin. Caucasus girls are strange like that- they hate and are obsessed with their family at the same time. They long for Western society and to make the flight to freedom from over-bearing fathers, groping cousins and seedy uncles. Many of them lust for white men and if you have blond hair or blue eyes you will be a hot commodity indeed, but some of them are possessed with insane levels of guilt about seeing a non-Durka Durka man. They will eventually tell someone, and then you’re in for it. Be prepared to walk around, looking over your shoulder and forget about going to your local shawarma spot. You never know where her brother, or cousin will be and how could you- they all look the same anyway.

I would be remiss if I did not give you another warning.  If you ever piss her off or get caught with another lover, she may just tell her family that you forced yourself on her, and at that point I hope you have some buddies that can back you up. Understand this and proceed with caution.

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Muzzies are very territorial of their women, and even the “westernized” women are kept under tight wraps. Their men however are free to date whoever, and treat them however they like if they are not Muslim. You won’t find many feminists complaining about how Muslims treat their women and the women of any country that was stupid enough to let them in in any significant number (Read: Every single white country in the world) but then feminists never seem to notice when transgressions occur and the perpetrators are not white men. The sand people are not the only group to be territorial of their women, Basketball-Americans exhibit some of these same tendencies when whites try to make a move on their women, even though they themselves spend most of their time lusting for “da white wimminz” and musing about, “where dey at.”

The benefits of banging a Caucasus girl are ephemeral. Mostly its a dare bang. You get a thrill from being a modern day vag-Crusader, and the satisfaction that you bagged a rare girl indeed. But if you do it at your place, and you have a falling out with the girl afterwards, be prepared for a restless couple of weeks indeed. I hope for your sake that you are packing heat. This is in no way an exhaustive guide to banging women from the Caucasus, in fact its a very niche topic. After all, how many people have Chechens living nearby in their neighborhood, or Dagestanis? But if your Conquistador blood gets roused one day, and you decide to mount an expeditionary raid into uncharted territory, bear in mind the warnings I have provided for you today. But then do it anyway, your ancestors will be sniggering and fist-bumping you from their graves. And really, what better incentive could you possibly need?

We’ve Tried This Before 1: Feminism and Miscegenation in the USSR

The Russians have first hand experience with feminist and multiculturalist lunacy. In the early decades of the USSR, the Bolshevik government concocted an artistic style called “Socialist Realism.” And no, they weren’t trying to be ironic. “Socialist Realism” depicted things the way Stalin and his fuck-puppets in the politburo thought they should be. This resulted in all sorts of absurdities, absurdities that you know well, because they have resurfaces as some of the commonest tropes in current entertainment.

If there is one rule in art, it is that you cannot regularly violate the principles of psychological normality. In certain genres, you are free to mess with the laws of nature –animals can talk, it can rain jelly-beans, creatures that are half-man, half horse can frolic in meadows of candy canes and corndogs, whatever. But even then, the characters must generally behave according to known psychological principles (the occasional wack-job notwithstanding). No one could tolerate a novel where all the male characters were happy to let some dipshit boff all the women, asking for nothing in return but 18-hour days toiling in the uranium mines. It’s too great a stretch of the imagination. People just don’t act that way.

One of the most blatantly absurd tropes is the bad-ass girl who beats up or kills dozens of men. You’ll find her in both Socialist Realism and current US entertainment.  This trope (goddamnit, I sound like Anita Sarkeesian) has made cop-dramas and Hollywood action flicks not just predictable, but unwatchable.  Now, you might object that the bad-ass girl is only an abuse of physical reality, not psychological normalcy. But you’d be wrong. Of course a girl can hold down the trigger and mow down dozens of studs. What is so irksome about the bad-ass girl is that she is a psychological abnormality. When it comes to fighting quality, the typical woman does not compare to the average man. Even Homo Americanus, between marathon red-tube sessions and IPA hangovers, wouldn’t lose a fight to a girl 999 times out of 1,000.

So of course Socialist Realism got off to chicks racking up rediculous K2D ratios. In Chapaev (1934), bad-ass babe Anka mows down rows of Tsarist soldiers (the sexy dudes in the screen-shot below, note that the officer looks like he’s chomping on a stogie, but it’s probably a whistle). But even before Anka goes all Audey Murphey, a bunch of her male comrades loose their nerve and flee, only to be rallied by their commissar.

But Chapaev is pretty mild compared to other Soviet films. Even though Anka holds off the reactionary hordes, she runs out of ammo (seems to be a Russian thing) and gets saved by the male protagonist, Chapaev.

If you want the full monty, you have to watch Tsirk (1936).  Tsirk “Circus” hits all the commies’ favorite talking points–feminism, miscegenation, multiculturalism–and rams them down your throat. It’s the story of Marion, an American actress who gets run out of the US for having a child with a black man. The scene of her expulsion is especially piquant. A mob of rasiss Americans chases her out of town, shouting “lynch her” and “nigger lover.” So naturally she seeks refuge in the freedom-loving Soviet Union, where she joins the circus, irony not intended. She gets into a one-sided relationship with a beta-boy German showman, but she only has eyes for her Slavic-superman fellow performer Ivan. Ivan is happy to oblige. He must have gotten bored with nice, sane Russian girls.

cucking for communism
Cucking for Communism

The movie climaxes in a multicultural lovefest. Marion’s German beta-boy ex exposes her for the miscegenetrix she is. The circus crowd is nonplussed at the revelation, and passes the adorable mulatto around to prevent the German from getting a hold of him. He retreats in shame, and the audience passes the boy around some more, singing a lullaby, with solos by representatives of the USSR’s various minority groups.  They wrap it up with some parading on red-square, featuring Marion side-by-side with her alpha-cuck boyfriend.

Then there’s Gladkov’s Cement, almost a book version of Tsirk. The hero, Gleb Chumalov (more like Chumalot), returns from three years of fighting capitalists and monarchists only to find his wife is a cold, Communist new-woman. And she’s been shacking up with another man. To top it off, everyone blames him for her infidelity because he was away at war. A woman tells him, “You left Dasha to torture and death and now you cannot expect to get a hold of her.” I bet a lot of our Iraq and Afghanistan veterans can relate. I’m sure plenty more lunacy happens in Cement, but I wouldn’t know, because I can never get through more than a page before I give up.

These are just three examples of Soviet lunacy. The message-films like Tsirk are largely forgotten. Russian literature from the 1920s and 30s is virtually unreadable today. It has largely disappeared from Russian memory. Russians know the 19th century classics, they often know Pushkin poems by heart. But Socialist Realist works, despite decades in the official curriculum, are rightly neglected. Tolstoy and Dostoevsky are timeless, Gladkov is absurd.

Throughout history, feminism and miscegenation have appeared from time to time, but are invariably subsumed. That should give us hope. We’ve tried this before, and it failed.

 

Feminized Christianity

Coming to college, upon the recommendation of a blue-pilled beta friend, I joined an organization called Chi Alpha. They were the real deal: crying and shaking, guitar-strumming, tambourine-banging, born again evangelists. But being an immigrant, and clueless to boot, I had no idea what kind of craziness to expect. Full disclosure, in my beta boy angst, I was easily seduced by the easy smiles and talk of community, acceptance, and Christian life. I even went on a retreat with the group where I saw feminized Christianity at its best. Luckily I made it out unscathed, with a tale or two for you, dear readers.

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I’ll never forget the time that a middle-aged (read: post-wall) speaker came to talk to us on special invitation. She lamented how God had not yet sent her a man and described how hard she had worked at her career and how she had a few men that walked out on her earlier in her life, leading her to take a break from dating. She claimed that she found God at this time, leading her to only pursue men in a Christian manner, which I assume meant not frequenting the same dive bars.

Either way, this new “Christian approach” to dating didn’t seem to pan out, because the subject of her talk was all about God not giving her a man and how it must just not be her time. The trials that this poor spinster faced elicited comparisons with Job and Rachel from the Old Testament. I remember how her voice trembled, and I couldn’t help feeling how awful those men were for dumping her while she was trying to pursue a Christian lifestyle.

She even talked about the debt that she had accumulated from going to graduate school in her early 30s, and how she hoped that God would help her find a way to pay off her debt. I wonder how much the first goal and the second goal were related in her mind. As always, the “hook up culture” was decried and the disrespect for women by males at the university was constantly a subject of pontification. Naturally, the true causes of the hook-up culture were never addressed, the broken nature of the old dating model never mentioned, and slutty behavior by women never called to account. But hey, what do you expect from gynocentric feminized Christianity?

The girls all shed thick, heavy tears and nodded emphatically about how hard it was to find a good Christian boy to fall in love with. Needless to say, there were Christian boys all around them, only none of them seemed capable of igniting a fire in their loins. I wonder why. I’ll venture to say selection bias had something to do with it.

Whiny femme-boys with no applied charisma skill (game) trying to justify their involuntary celibacy as part of a wholesome Christian lifestyle don’t make college girls swoon. But rather than confronting their sexual marketplace value and working to improve their game, their character, and hell, maybe even working out a bit, they instead found religion as a balm for their broken hearts. Here’s the pitch:

Pastor: Do you feel out of place and rejected by girls?

College boy: Boy, do I!

Pastor: Never get invited to parties?

College boy: Not really…

Pastor: Come join our cult club and Jesus will take all the pain away.

College boy: Maybe I’ll get a cute Christian girlfriend if I’m good and God rewards me!

I only saw one match-up occur between two Chi Alpha members: a reformed slut and a football player. Full disclaimer, the girl was a 3 or a 4 on a good day, and on the big retreat to Virginia beach, broke down during discussion time and sobbed out a story about how she had lots of pre-marital sex with her boyfriend and felt abused because of it.

Now a black football player, at any university, is a prime catch for any girl, and this guy wasn’t bad looking at all. His big problem though: he was too nice and had no game. Naturally he tried with several girls when he came to college, and flamed out spectacularly several times, leading him to join Chi Alpha as the savior intended. After being “set up” with this damaged goods “Christian,” the football player became the toast of the club, a shining example of what every good Christian ought to do. The fact that this 3/10 had had more sex with more partners in her short 19 years of life than he ever would probably in his entire life never seemed to bother him.

How noble of all of these angsty betas to renounce their involuntary celibacy for a voluntary one—the sacrifice must have been immense. Here is my main point about these religious groups: they are INCREDIBLY damaging to young men because, like youth groups of the past, it puts a skewed moral burden on many young men and actively prevents them from developing their skills with women.

The sexual marketplace has changed, and all those beta traits that church groups used to foster in their young men are totally useless. You know that hottie sitting next to you in the pew? Chances are she’s banging some random dude she met at the university pub on Saturday and sitting there talking to you about “Christian values” on Sunday (true story). Why? Because its alpha or die, dear readers.

And as long as she continues mouthing platitudes and shedding tears during the group sing along, no one will know. Even if she should choose to confess her sins or something, I guarantee you that she would be forgiven. Evangelicals are predominantly female. Evangelicals love reformed sluts. Jesus has been re-branded as the perfect white knight poster boy for the feminized Christianity cult that I see in America. Try pulling that shit as a guy who got drunk and had a one night stand, you’d be standing before an honor council by the end of the day.

According to Chi Alpha and evangelical groups like it aimed almost exclusively at youth, one would think that Christ came down from heaven for one reason and one reason only: to prevent underage drinking and pre-marital sex. In a nutshell, this was the point of the group. Any group that takes awkward betas and reinforces their tendencies to the point of associating religious holiness with social awkwardness deserves to be purged. There are enough conflicting messages from Hollywood, clueless parents, left-wing school administrators without so called religious “conservatives” jumping on the bandwagon and skewering men as well.

Where was the tradition? The whole, “women be loyal and submissive to your husbands,” “don’t whore around in your 20s and expect a husband when you’re overweight, pushing 40 and drowning in student debt” stuff? It wasn’t progressive enough I guess. Our university’s brand of evangelicalism even avoided condemning gays the same way their southern brethren would. I asked several times about the church’s position on the homosexual lifestyle, and got no replies, probably because we had many homosexuals in the congregation. Pretty conservative, amirite?

There was nothing truly Christian about the experience. The movement felt like it had been spawned in the early 90s and that Jesus had died as early as the 9/11 attacks with only a tenuous connection at best to the actual crucifixion and the story of the early church. Long story short, it wasn’t for me, and I decided I needed a church based in tradition and not drowning in progressive platitudes, and based on the “make it up as you go along” attitude of the Protestant tradition.

Orthobros Unite!
Orthobros Unite!

A short epilogue:

After I overcame my weird, guilty, religious phase, stopped showing up (I only went for about 3 months), and read up on some game material, I turned right around and banged a couple of those girls. Praise be to God.

Rape Culture and You

Most of you by now know about the rape culture campaign that has reached fever pitch around the nation. Even Michelle Obama and some other B-list celebrities got in on the action by posting youtube videos talking about ending “rape culture.” This hysteria rages particularly hard on college campuses, making me feel very lucky to be off the dating market at the moment. But not everyone is as lucky as me.

An acquaintance of mine was dating her boyfriend in college for two years. Over the summer before her junior year however, she decided that she had enough. Naturally she gave a myriad of reasons why she wanted needed to break up with him. Apparently he was “holding her back” from experiencing college life. At the time, I took this statement at face value and thought he was just a stick in the mud. More realistically however, she was just starting to get bored of the boring beta that trailed after her at all the parties and wouldnt let her have any “fun.”

And boy did she have fun after they broke up. I had a front row seat to the affair. And since she was like “one of the bros” she didn’t skimp on the details. Full disclosure: she is not a prime catch (otherwise I too would have been tempted to smash), in fact I’d rate her a solid 5, in other words: very average. But most college males are incredibly thirsty and will jump at the opportunity to get with anything that even resembles a girl with interest in them. Suffice to say, she did way better for herself than one would expect based on her looks. She even had a fling with a 35 year old banker that would wine and dine her every week.

This brings up something I’ll never understand: why adults looked wistfully back at their college years as if they were years of abundant poon just falling out of the heaven like unleavened bread. The truth is that chicks dig older guys, and the first half of college is rough for your average male, and only gets a bit better for most as they get older. Personally, I had a blast, but I had the added knowledge of being an acolyte of game. The others though…they’ve been struggling, and probably will continue to do so until they become rich bankers themselves. It doesn’t help that you have the histrionics of the “rape culture” people to deal with either.

Back to the story—one night several months after their breakup she and him met up at a party again. One thing led to another, and they slept together that night. Only several weeks later, the girl went to the administration and claimed that she had been raped. The administration hem-ed and haw-ed and decided that the safe thing to do would be to suspend the boy for a year, pending a further investigation. Did you catch that? He wasn’t proven guilty, he had witnesses that even came to his defense (one of my old roommates), and they were both drunk, but none of these mitigating factors prevented him from even openly debating whether he in fact committed rape or not.

Personally I know the guy, and he is one of the most vanilla-fied, beta-fied, and pussy-fied herbivores that you will find on a college campus. The idea of him forcing himself on anyone, including an ex-girlfriend that is the exact same height (and weight probably) as him is downright laughable. So perhaps the girl was suffering from a case of buyer’s remorse? It seems like the most plausible explanation, but it begs the question, who is the type of guy that gets falsely accused of rape?

It’s the lesser beta, never the bad boy alpha.

My own experiences add a splash of color to the affair. About a year and a half ago I asked out an Indian chick (HBD 8.5) on a date. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was oozing with charisma and natural game. She was working at the desk as a sort of secretary and was studying for her MCAT when I approached her. Keep in mind that this was before I understood the science behind applied charisma.

Naturally Alpha Me: You look really excited.

Her: What?

NAM: To be working this job.

Her: Yeah, its a blast. (*rolls her eyes*)

NAM: Are you studying for your MCAT?

Her: Yea, it sucks.

Me: I could tutor you!

Her: Are you also taking the MCAT?

Me: Nah

Her: Haha then why do you think you can tutor me?

Me: Just a hunch. We should get lunch before we study together though.

Her: Haha..ok?

Me: When’s your break, I’ll come pick you up then.

Her: Hahahaah, ok 12.

I was wearing a sleeve-less t shirt, ray-ban knockoffs and most importantly I had that special factor x swagger that gave me that mischievous sparkle in the eyes and sly grin on my face that showed her I didn’t take her too seriously. (In retrospect, I suppose I used a variant of Roosh’s elderly opener.) The lunch date became an alcohol date the next day and just as I was escalating for the grand finale, she drops this bombshell on me.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Ooof, game over right? Well the red-pilled male naturally understands that this is just last minute resistance, but I took it at face value. I backed off. Which is a shame because sexual tension continued to grow between us, until one night after we went on a drunk walk through the city at 4am, she insisted on sleeping over in my apartment. When I tried to make an advance on her, she refused and said that we had to sleep separately.  I had a bunk bed and was on top, she was on the bottom. I hop up, close my eyes and hear her say:

“If you were a man, you would take me now”

I jump down, blood boiling, throw myself at her, only to have her start squirming and say, “WHAT are you doing!? I have a boyfriend!”

Confused, I climb back up. One minute later.

“Why did you stop?”

I jump back down. Encounter resistance again, climb back up, confused as fuck.

“I’m in your room and you’re not doing anything to me?”

Third time’s the charm right? Wrong. Same thing happens, I fall asleep soon after.

I wonder to this day what would have happened if I had done what she was begging me to do. Would I be in front of the honor council? Was I alpha enough then to escape her morning after buyer’s remorse? Hard to say, but the deck would have certainly been stacked against me…

The only conclusion that I can draw is that college used to be a sort of training wheels on practice ground for middle-class males. Only now, the learning curve is steeper and the consequences much more dire for failing to internalize the lessons of game. I don’t even think this will stay on campuses for long, so I’ll be the first to say it here: “rape culture awareness, coming soon to a workplace near you.” The moral of the story? It’s alpha or die, dear readers.